pseudowar-archived

[pseudowar-archived]

@deadwar asked for: reverse + [ heart ] / simon, for roach. meme ; still accepting

Gary's nightmares are not frequent, not like they were, but they still were there. Lurking behind every good day like a phantom, or an assassin, waiting for the right time to pop up. The worst kind of paralysis demon - one made of memories he'd thought he'd made peace with, thought he'd worked his way through, but lingered still. Agony, as it turned out, was a hard thing to forget, harder still when the evidence of it still laid on his skin.

Most of the time, his nightmares are him alone in that pit. Staring at Ghost's back as he got away from certain death and left him behind - a memory that was false, made of insecurities, Roach had been unconscious by the time Ghost had crawled from their grave - and sometimes... Sometimes...

Sometimes, Ghost - Simon - was there with him. Eyes glazed with death beneath cracked sunglasses as fire consumed them both. The smell of burning plastic and material, their gear, turning into the smell of burning flesh as his gear gave way to his body. Flames eating at the other man's balaclava and sunglasses until all that remained was his face - and then -

And then it ate that too, leaving Roach paralyzed and in utter agony, staring as the man he loved, even back then, began to resemble his mask - a ghastly skull with an even more ghastly smile. One that seemed to remind Roach of his failure to keep up, to have been so weak, to have brought Simon down with him...

Gary wakes with a scream lodged in his throat, blocked by imaginary ash, by smoke, by the taste of burning flesh and petrol. He wakes with violence, soundless like how he's always been. Not a grunt falling from his lips as his hands swing and his feet kick, his body twists and pulls against the weight of his failure, the weight of his sin of inattentiveness heavier than he was strong.

And for a moment, all he can hear is the roar of an angry flame. The sound of flesh crackling beneath it. The pops of unused ammo from their gear as it went off. Then -

"Gary." A name, his name. Murmured like a plea against his ear as arms wrap tighter, and the man pressed against him tried his best to hold him down. "Gary, Gary, Gary. It's okay. You're here. Home. I've got you."

But was he, or was this another nightmare? It wouldn't be the first time he'd had them strung together. One horrible dream tied into another, like a train that he couldn't find the stop on. Each of the cars feeling more real, and more devastating, than the last.

"Breathe." The voice rumbles against his ear, almost a command, and Gary does out of reflex. Ribs expanding as he fills his lungs to the brim, all that he'd smelt before dissipating. Replaced with the smell of clean sheets and the scent of a man he practically worshipped, a man he'd loved so much even then, he'd been glad to die at his side. As he exhales, Gary goes limp in his arms, or close enough, and the action is rewarded with a kiss pressed to the soft, sensitive skin beneath his ear.

"S-Simon...?" It takes him a moment, not to speak, but to recognize the broken sounding voice as his own. The way it shook unfamiliar, unnatural. Not like Sergeant Gary 'Roach' Sanderson, who had survived so much at such a young age that even people with higher ranks were impressed with him. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up, it was just a nightmare."

It's so fucking stupid how quick he jumps to reassuring the other man, fucking ridiculous considering the situation, but Simon takes it with a quiet huff and no smart rebuttal. Just a shifting of his stupidly heavy arms as he releases Gary. Comfortable with the action now they he knew the younger man was fully awake, and not going to hurt himself with frightened flailing.

Gary sits up the moment he can, runs his fingers through overgrown curls and stares at the partially closed bedroom door. At the little light peeking through the gaps - a night light he'd installed months earlier so they both could stop tripping over dog toys on late night toilet visits.

"Don't."

Don't apologize. Don't get up. Don't leave. Simon's single word has so many meanings, and Gary recognizes them all. Obeys them without a second thought. Eyes closing as he presses his palms to them. Groans out something miserable and tired as sweat trickles down his back, cold and uncomfortable against his heated skin.

"Love?" It was a single, word - an affectionate nickname - but it was also another series of questions that Gary easily recognized. Their relationship unique, even among soldiers, entire conversations that could be had with just touches or looks, or single spoken words. Simon was asking if he was okay, if he wanted to talk about it, if he wanted to get up together and watch something on the telly until they both passed out again.

And honestly? Gary didn't know the answer. Hands dropping to his lap. Breathing in deep once more before shakily exhaling. Lips parting to say as much but - something else spilling out instead. "You were dead. With me." He shudders. "Burning. It was so real. I - I could smell it. You, me, us burning. I watched your fucking eyeballs - melt and I -" The sob shakes his whole being, his voice cracks from the strength of it, and the rest of his explanation dies on his tongue. Dies like they had - or maybe like they should have back then. "I'm sorry."

He expects to be engulfed again in weighted arms as he feels the other man shift on the bed. Expects to be wrapped up and coddled like a child by their nan. Cooed and rocked back to sleep in the safety of the arms of someone he trusted, someone he loved...

Instead, he feels the sensation of rough fingers around his own. Instead, Simon pulls his hand from the sheets and up towards his chest. Pressing an equally scarred palm against his chest as he breathes out something sad and small, and offers Gary nothing but the simple comfort of reassurance in return for his confession.

"It wasn't real." And they're not groundbreaking words, but still, Gary finds comfort in them. Comfort in the beating heart beneath is palm, the pulse that was strong and steady, and definitely not dead. "We lived. And we're here. I'm here."

It shouldn't be enough, but it is, because it's true. They'd survived hell. The nightmares was just that, a nightmare. Neither of them had died - and they were both alive, they were together. Alive and happy and in the flat they shared, with the dog Simon had taken home when he'd retired and his handler couldn't take care of him, They were living a life together, comfortable and cozy and normal and -

They were home.

[pseudowar-archived]

scars:  how many scars does my muse have? where are they located on my muse’s body? how did they get them? what do they look like?  / roach.

relaxation: what does my muse do to relax? do they find it easy to carve out time to relax?  / trick

stress: does my muse handle stress well? what is a surefire sign for others to tell that they’ve become stressed? how does stress affect them mentally / physically?  / moe

scars:  how many scars does my muse have? where are they located on my muse’s body? how did they get them? what do they look like?  / roach.

Roach is a bit like Simon when it comes to his body being a canvas of scars, especially later on in his career. He does have a handful from his childhood, scars that are faint and faded from time, but they're barely visible. As for the others... Well, they don't call him Roach because he's dirty. (He is a clean, clean man, thank you.) I don't think I have the brainpower to go through all of his scars and how he got them, but here's a few notable ones: face: a scar the runs from the left side of his forehead, through his eyebrow, down and just barely missing his eye towards his nose, and then back to the left. He got this in a civilian car crash when he was nineteen. torso: - a scar from being shot on the right side of his chest, a little bit below his collarbone. this is from a mission he'd barely survived while a royal marine when he was about twenty. - a scattering of scars from grenade shrapnel. this one is from a training exercise that went wrong, he was twenty one and thankfully, he was wearing his full gear. thigh: a scar on his right thigh from being stabbed, the scar itself is only an inch and a half long. another wound from when he was nineteen, although this is from when he got mugged in London during a short leave. our... main verse?: - burn marks on the left side of his body. these start on his thigh and travel up his neck and the base of his skull. the burns themselves are not consistently on the left side, they spread out across his ribcage but are faint in other areas, and there are burn splatters across the rest of his body. The scars are a healthy shade of pale pink from healing. - a scar from being shot in the gut, and the surgery that came after - a six inch vertical scar that ends above his belly button, and some small circular ones from the staples that held him together after.

relaxation: what does my muse do to relax? do they find it easy to carve out time to relax?  / trick

Trick is a little more high strung than he lets on, and therefore, while he appears to be relaxed a good chunk of the time, he really isn't. I don't want to say the man has control issues, but he does have issues, and they make it hard for him to find anything to relax completely. Well, anything but sexual attention and stupidly hot showers...

stress: does my muse handle stress well? what is a surefire sign for others to tell that they’ve become stressed? how does stress affect them mentally / physically?  / moe

In stressful situations, Moe is the best person to have around. She has a remarkably level head despite her attitude, and she's pretty good to have around if you need to get out of a sticky situation. That being said, for long term stress? She is actually the worst to have around. She gets more than a little fighty and flighty and will say nasty things she doesn't entirely mean. A sign she's getting stressed, for real? Sharp words and picking at her nails. Sometimes, she'll repeatedly run her fingers through her hair until it becomes a mess. As for the other questions, it depends on the situation - in-the-moment stress? She's calm, with a little adrenaline, and a lot of [excited] swearing. Long time? She's getting mean with it. Physically, she's fine with in-the-moment stuff. Anything else has her making her fingers bleed from picking at them so much.

[pseudowar-archived]

👫 + simon & gary, xoxo

i. In the beginning of their relationship, Gary spends a lot of time staying overnight in Simon's room instead of going home to his flat. It doesn't stop the nightmares, but waking up to the other man helps the aftermath.

ii. Gary's luck is still shite, even with the team looking out for him. There have been multiple occasions where he's lost his pack to something or another - but it's okay, because Simon always splits his food, and shares his bedroll.

iii. They don't celebrate anniversaries - it's hard to when you can be called away at a moment's notice by the CIA and the like. But once a month, Gary does try to set up date nights if they're both available. (So, he orders dinner, orders a movie on the telly, demands Simon watch all of it with him, and then the two fall asleep on the couch together because they're old mentally.)

iv. They don't fight, like, ever. They have disagreements like all people in close relationships, but they don't argue. It's not a matter of not getting mad, but rather the fact that they are so fucking co-dependent, they don't want to fuck it up.

meme ; accepting

[pseudowar-archived]

[pseudowar-archived]

just a lil soap headcanon for yall: he tried really hard to get abs like, you know, a celebrity in a superhero movie when he was in his early..er twenties but then he realized that they get those by dropping water weight aka getting extremely dehydrated, and he's not about that life. so he doesn't have defined abs, but he is built. and hairy.

[pseudowar-archived]

'Ghost? Stunned himself?' His signs are slow, expression surprised, and more than a little bit confused. Where the fuck had he been when this happened? Or was this before he'd been stolen by Captain Price and Laswell? And even still - Roach can't see it. Ghost was, at times, reckless with his own self being - but cooking a grenade to the point where it put himself in a daze? Soap must have been daydreaming, or Ghosts must have been pretty fucking desperate.

Soap is going to get them both murdered by the big guy at this point, and Roach doesn't know if he should stop him. The image of Ghost's expressive eyes if the thing went off cleanly was a pretty good one. The other image though...

'When he asks, I had nothing to do with this.'

“Tell that t’ the stuns I’ve seen ‘im cook on the field. Pretty sure he stunned ‘imself once ‘cause he cooked too long ‘n it blew up in his face.” Was sharing that going to come back to bite him in the ass? Probably. Did Soap really care at the moment? Nah, he’ll deal with the consequences of his actions later.

Not gracefully by any means, he’s already sure this is going to come with him sleeping outside on their next op or moving rocks off of the air strip with a toothbrush…

Soap grinned, already holding a hand up. “Pay up then. He’s gonna use it without even knowing.” The fact that he already had a plan? Probably should be worrying. “He always keeps a flash on his vest next t’ the smoke. I replace it? Voila, he’ll use it.”

Yep… that was his plan.

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#dads

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R stands for Roach

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“I’m sexy and I know it “

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brooke olimpieri

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loretta jackson

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He's cute for a soldier. Big baby blues and thick, dark styled in a mohawk. Tall enough (although, she is taller) for his taste, stocky, and scarred. Pretty, too. Just the way Trick liked them. And honestly, from her point of view, he could have done worse when it came to crushing on a co-worker - could have done far worse with fucking one too. She almost feels bad for telling him to keep it in his pants - almost.

"If you fuck his career, I'll fuck your entire life over." A decent enough greeting, accompanied by a sharp grin. Despite being the younger sister, Moe was still protective over Trick - he was hers to bully. No one else's. "You understand, princess?"

@deadwar ; starter call

[pseudowar-archived]

the timing was just... the moment had to be captured

bunch of traces and studies ripped from official materials and thrown into a comic, study time has been very fun haha.

i can tell i finished puberty since i last engaged with this game cause back in the day i wats like "ghost! funny stick figure man and my best friend forever" and now it's

[pseudowar-archived]

This is not what Lt. Simon Riley meant by more tactical, Roach wants to point out, but Soap's enthusiasm for the new project doesn't allow it. Doesn't allow for Roach to want to destroy his every hope and dream - although undoubtedly, Ghost was going to do it when he heard what he'd done but that was besides the point. He hated being the bearer of bad news, so... The Lieutenant could do it.

'Ghost isn't a chef.' He points out with a small, absolutely tiny grin. A fact that was true to his knowledge - Ghost preferred a good shot over a good explosion. Roach was pretty sure that was because it fucked with his Silent Ghost vibe but, well, he wasn't too sure. 'But the case -' A shrug. 'I don't know about that. Seems dangerous.'

He pauses, thinking. Then: 'Hundred quid he doesn't even test it.'

Even though he waves his hand while the other works, Soap still has an eye on Gary just to make sure he’s getting every last sign. Surprisingly well, at least, signs that he’s definitely been studying a lot harder, but that wasn’t the point here. “Eeh, it’ll be fine. He’s the one that wanted more tactical.”

‘More tactical’ probably didn’t include modifying a stun grenade to carry a tracker in it. Greatest idea Soap’s had in a while, he was sure it’d work. Maybe. “Look, it’ll be fine if he doesnae cook it. Maybe.” A beat. “—An’ maybe if the case doesn’t break… look, I got faith in this. It’ll be fine. Totally got this.”

Soap most definitely didn’t have this and really wasn’t fancying the inevitable anger that’d follow if Simon had to pry the tracker out of his own hand.

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'Soap,' Gary starts with a look - the look of a man who was struggling to keep it together. His hands are steady despite this, signs slow and careful so that he's understood. 'Ghost will absolutely kill you if he catches you.'

And yet, Roach makes no attempt to stop the other sergeant, perched instead on a piece of equipment and watching Soap with dark eyes, his expression slightly squinted with how hard he was trying to keep from laughing. Soap was absolutely going to get them both in trouble with the Lieutenant, but at this point, Roach didn't have it in him to stop him - it was good entertainment.

@soapfcrce ; starter call

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Step one: Don't stare at the scars. Step two: Definitely do not look at the scars at all. Step three: Try to keep from squinting at the guy's terrible card. Is this really what PI's did for branding? God, that was pretty depressing.

Moe at least keeps herself pleasant - ish. A single eyebrow raised as he explains who he was and what he did - and most importantly, why he was standing there, at her favorite dive bar, lurking like an unwelcomed cousin at a holiday party. (She should have let them kick him out for asking too many questions but, what can she say? She's weak for a pretty man with baggage.)

"Oh, baby boy, you're gunna need to work harder than that to get my number." And yet, she's taken his card. Slipped it away in an inner pocket of her jacket with too much ease. "You know, a drink. A smoke. A good time."

@sealedhim ; starter call

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how’s roach holding up

The COUNTRY, Sanderson