bhaalergate - Tumblr blog

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Gaz shows Ghost how to get youtube up on the TV and then walks in an hour later to Ghost and Price watching model building videos with the intensity of a footie match. He has to walk away when Ghost angrily tells the screen that they can't use super glue on foam board.

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The ink bottle lying on your desk... begins to crawl away..???

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Bite loverr 💋

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Turtleforce 141 as requested over on twitter 🥰

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SOAP “NAUTILUS” SKIN 🧼 🧬

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The way I scrambled to finish and post that before the DnD oneshot I was a part of tonight...

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When John MacTavish was a wee bairn, he got lost while his family was in Manchester for his sister's dance competition. There, he met a boy named Simon. He doesn't believe in fate, but he does believe that God has a sense of humour. At the very least, someone was laughing when he was reunited with Simon Riley just in time to get lost in another city thousands of miles away.

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💀🩷

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My work for COB pin-up calendar 🤭

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There’s just something about Captain Price driving a stolen police car with a loaded military weapon up front being completely willing to run down anyone who gets in his way while looking sexy af doing it.

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I love Simon Riley so fucking much.

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My baby’s got a —

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WIP

The mission parameters have been set and roles assigned. All that's left now is final preparations and then it's open season for one yankee doodle motherfucker; maybe two if they're lucky. Soap has always hated this part the most: the calm before the storm. He lives for the moment when his boots hit the ground, static in his ears and the staccato rhythm of gunfire pounding like a bout of tachycardia in his chest.

For once, however, he is grateful for it, if only for the rare opportunity it presents. He makes no attempt to be discreet as he watches his lieutenant slip into one of the side rooms, nor when he follows a breath behind him.

Ghost raises a brow at Soap as the door clicks shut, granting them a modicum of privacy. It's strange, being able to tell this easily when he does it with how much skin the opening of his balaclava bares. Stranger still to think that Soap has seen his face in its entirety, all of the puzzle pieces falling into place to create an image that, while not unpleasant, was wholly unexpected.

After all, the possibility had never occurred to him that Ghost might be familiar.  

Soap's mouth has gone dry, words abandoning him as blue eyes are caught in brown, like the earth cupping the sea.

Ghost surprises him again by speaking first.

“Did you need something, Sergeant?”

The spell breaks and Soap's lips spread wide to grin at him, shaking the cloth mask in his hand. “Think you could help me with my makeup, LT? Got a hot date tonight I'm right keen on impressing.”

“With your demolitions, I hope.”

“Naturally.”

Ghost huffs and gestures to a rickety wood and metal chair that reminds Soap of the ones he sat in as a schoolboy. Fitting, he thinks as he settles into it with a creak of protest. Ghost takes a tin of grease paint from his tac-vest (of course he keeps a spare on hand) and unscrews the lid.

The container is made of metal, wide and flat like one of those old-fashioned tins of shaving cream. Ghost sets it on the table next to Soap's chair, then peels off his gloves to work. Soap studies his bare hands like a cartographer, mapping out landmarks new and old with an eye for detail. Long, pale fingers—a couple of them slightly crooked—knobbly at the joints. He bites back a laugh as he realizes that he recognizes a few of the faded scars on his knuckles, erasing the last of his doubts.

Something of his mirth must peer through because Ghost is giving him another dubious look. Soap tries to give him his most disarming smile, earning himself a sigh.

Ghost drags two fingers through the grease paint and instructs, “Close your eyes.”

It's an easy ask. Soap has already placed his trust in this man's hands enough times to feel at home beneath them. Ghost takes hold of his chin between his thumb and forefinger to steady him, then Soap feels the cold, wet drag of paint beneath his left eye.

He counts thirty seconds, then flicks his tongue across his lips to part them, drawing in a breath. “You know, I never thought I'd see you again.”

“You handled yourself well out there, Soap,” Ghost tells him, and the praise warms him even though it isn't what Soap is looking for.

“I'm not talking about Las Almas.”

The steady motion of his hands slows, the teeth of the cogs dragging like there's something caught between them. Nostalgia, Soap hopes.

“Manchester,” he prompts.

A beat passes, tension bubbling like water in an overfilled glass of optimism about to burst.

Ghost snorts and it sounds at once like amusement and disbelief. “Can't believe you fuckin' remember that.”

Joy runs over instead. John can barely stop himself from opening his eyes. “You remember it,” he accuses.

“My age wasn't in single bloody digits.”

“But you do remember.”

“Yes, Johnny, I remember.” The deep rasp of Ghost's voice sounds like exasperation, but also a little like fondness.

Alternative first meeting AU in which 7 year old Johnny MacTavish is accidentally lost/separated from his family while they are on vacation in Manchester when he's found by a scrappy blond teenager with a shiner and a day-old split lip. The teen dries Johnny's tears, introduces himself as Simon, then buys him lunch and helps him find his family since he knows the city.

Two decades and change later, Simon guides Johnny to safety in yet another city, far from England, which he only realizes the moment his lieutenant finally takes off the mask.

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I'm writing it 💀

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I have a positive ending for these two ,,,

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If you see him

It's already too late

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"gratuitous" violence? well, yes, i do find it very gratifying