#also Simon is so hot...

[r0semultiverse]

Hey, what's going on with Betty/GOLB?

Hey, what are you doing Simon??

Hey WHAT???

HELLO?!?!?

WHAT IS THAT?!? WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!??

[anney-baker]

Nadja & Human Scams

[temeyes]

i'm still a little unwell about bikerdad!Ghost,,,,,

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an “i wish i could,�� never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[leow]

nothing gets between this man and a bowl of noodles

[karlachismylife]

Curious to know what your thoughts on ghostgaz are!

I love GhostGaz!! I know I probably say this about every pairing, but, first of all, it's true, and second, I love them all for different things. To me, GhostGaz is pure peace. I know I kinda wrote SoapGaz also being about this dynamic, but the difference is, SoapGaz are that AND two little troublemaker shits that are going to blow shit up and blame each other. GhostGaz is calmer, they obviously have their playful side (mostly sarcastic jabs and sass, these two), they obviously have passion, but there is this veil of just wanting to rest together peacefully. There's a lot on their shoulders and they're both reluctant to lean onto others, so when they finally do, it's a lot of exhaustion. And they're also both insanely beautiful, there's a lot of just "admiring the view" between them that probably leads to them both being flustered.

I have a little retired GhostGaz thing here and also a few headcanons on them here (MDNI)

And let's do another piece, because the world needs more GhostGaz. Me, I'm the world. (MDNI)

There is an old garden swing behind the pub, awkardly standing against the brick wall with a perfect view on the trash spilling from overflowing skip bins. The roof had been taken off the swing, and its supports could use a fresh coat of paint, but it doesn't crumble under Riley's considerable weight and even moves when he rocks absentmindedly, staring into the dark night sky above and clouding it with cigarette smoke. His head is fuzzily empty after a few glasses of nice bourbon, not drunk yet, but certainly tipsy and thus at peace with the whole world - ironically. Ghost and peace don't exactly go together other than when he's blissfully under influence.

Simon doesn't even wince when the back door he came through into this well-like backyard surrounded by buildings on all sides opens again, letting yellow light, muffled human noise and music into the cool silent night he was enjoying. The person coming outside stumbles over a brick that is probably sometimes used to keep the door open and mutters a curse under their breath with a chuckle. It's Gaz.

"There you are, sir," he purrs once he locates the dark heap that Ghost is, the only light spot being the lower half of his face, freed from under the bally and tilted up to the sky, and the bare pale neck with Simon's Adam's apple moving lazily as he breathes. Like a cat wary of the human presence, Ghost watches from the corner of his eye as Garrick approaches the swing and stops with his back turned to it, too inhebirated to multitask - he's fumbling with a ciggy, concentrating hard to try and light it. Yellow flicker of his dying lighter shows off the adorable concentration crease between his brows and the famous nose scrunch - Simon wonders, what caused it: reeking trash, cheap smoke, nasty aftertaste of the horrible coctail the Sergeants drank to prove they can, Kyle's own clumsiness and the cigarette's unwillingness to cooperate?

Gaz floods Simon's thoughts so abruptly, like a warm light does once you flick the switch on - what seemed like an abandoned apartment shows signs of life and invites inside, where a teapot is already waiting with your favourite mug to drink from. Before Ghost can stop himself, he bends his widely spread legs and pushes the swing forward, successfully undercutting Kyle's knees. With a surprised "oh sh-", Garrick drops his cigarette and lands on the creaking seat heavily, sounding like his ass is cut from wood itself.

"Fock, mate, sorry-" - Ghost, his eyes widening with surprise themselves, sits up straight and chuckles gruffly, catching Kyle before he can slide off the swing going back now - his smile shines in the darknes, laughter at his own landing loud and clear. The ciggy he dropped gets swallowed by the night, and Simon feels a little guilty for denying a man his smoke. "Didn't think you'd fold this easy. 'Ere, let me..."

He produces his own cigarette pack from the hoodie pocket and offers one to Kyle, leaning in close to light it with his smoudering cigarette's end. There isn't much tension in the action - not until Simon looks up from the flickering red-orange light and sees Kyle's long lashes in all their glory while his tipsy Sergeant still looks downwards with a thoughtful look. At first Simon thinks he's just drunkenly mesmerized by the little breating light, growing with each inhale and fading at exhales; but then suddenly he feels a deft hand with long fingers grip his thik thigh, squeezing the muscle through his lazy black sweats - not that he'd bother wearing anything better for a drinking night with the team in a lovely dingy pub.

"You don't miss leg day, eh?" Kyle's voice is all purring mirth, amber wiskey coating a tumbler's walls and swirling as it pours down Simon's ears. Worse of all - Garrick's appreciation is genuine, fingers kneading the meat of Ghost's thigh and his thumb repeatedly pushing into the softness on the inner side. Just because Kyle likes how it feels. Simon lets himself fall back onto the swing's backrest and take a couple drags as he distinctly feels his prick chubbing up before he drops the cigarette butt on the ground and looks to the side again.

"You're one to talk, Garrick. These are murder weapons right here," Ghost's big palm pats Kyle's knee clumsily and stays there. Comfortable silence lingers, Kyle's hand strokes up and down the fat muscles, jumps from one thigh to another while he's finishing his smoke. His grip is firm and feels like a relaxing massage after a rewarding workout, sending tingling waves of heat to Ghost's crotch as he stays still, manspreading and bringing the swing into movement over and over, arms resting on the backrest, a hand toying with Kyle's hood. Gaz leans in for a shotgun kiss and Simon's mangeld lips are already parted for it, welcoming the smoke and letting a hot tongue lick into the desperate mouth tasting of tobacco and alcohol.

Simon's hand comes up to pull Kyle in by his nape, playing with the dark curls at the base of his skull, and Gaz lets out a shaky sigh, scooting even closer and throwing his leg over Simon's knee. Ghost doesn't half-ass anything - pulls Garrick up fully into his lap, ignoring how the weight of Sergeant's ass presses down on his boner, and kisses his clean shaven cheek with wet lips. He's got half a mind to slide his huge paw down Kyle's pants and just feel his hefty balls in a handful, fondle them with gruff tenderness and hear Garrick sigh like that again, but he's still sober enough to not be too excited by the prospect of a hasty handjob behind the pub.

"Let's go gome, Si?" It's almost like Gaz reads his mind, offers lazily, resting his head on Ghost's shoulder - he doesn't mind staying for a bit longer and downing a few more, so that he'll be sitting with his palm over Simon's crotch in the taxi, breathing heavily without any willpower to stop his clingy drunk Lieutenant from slobbering all over his neck; he doesn't mind departing immediately, either, holding Simon's hand in his warp grip and huddling together on the tube, taking up three seats instead of two with their wide arses.

Simon thinks of an answer, weighing his options carefully. There is no rush. They can stay under the dark sky above this trashy well for a bit longer, before Soap comes looking for them "snogging around". Might as well give him something to look at.

[7roaches]

i think all he knows how to make is bowl of cereals & even that he burns sometimes

[hatsbuckets]

here’s a short idea of mine to distract you, didn’t manage to make it into a small fic cuz brain couldn’t come up with an ending of sort (as always😂) not sure if NikGhostPrice is your cup of tea so you don’t have to answer it if not!

Price with beard oil, Nik recommended him once and he would use it religiously. Keeps it soft, fluffy and smells really nice.

It’s a sort of ritual, either Nik or Ghost would join him, standing close to observe him slathering the oil on himself while Price hums a bit. It’s quiet and it’s comfortable, relaxing and serene.

Sometimes they touch his beard after he’s done, or Ghost looms over and not so subtly sniff him, rumbling in approval.

Other times they’re more hungry and aggressive, pulling Price away and pressing their face into his jaw impatiently while Price laughs.

I like two big guys spoiling our dear Captain with attention :3

hi gomz :) 🤭 I adore NikGhostPrice. Literally so much to unpack with these gruff ass men. Price trying to keep it together, Ghost a walking emotionally constipated cat, and Nik our low-key traumatized Russian who laughs through it. Yeahhhhh I like me some strong emotionally repressed men old man yaoi. thank you thank you <3 i uh took it and ran

Pure spoiled Price fluff ahead

...

The bathroom is warm, thick with steam from the shower that just ended. Price stands at the mirror, towel slung low on his hips, bare chest glistening faintly. His hair is towel-dried and tousled, but his attention is on his beard, neatly trimmed and still damp.

He hums as he unscrews the cap of the beard oil. The scent fills the room almost immediately, sandalwood and something smokey, a hint of citrus. It's clean and grounding. (It sells unscented, Nik added the essential oils.) Nik had given it to him once, with a small shrug and the casual authority of a man who knows what quality grooming smells like. Price had taken to it religiously ever since.

He drops a few golden beads of oil into his palm and begins working it in, fingers gentle, massaging through the grain of his beard, into the skin beneath. There’s care in the way he does it, like everything with Price, measured and thorough.

The door creaks open behind him. No rush. No surprise.

Ghost appears in the mirror first. Shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips, blonde hair still damp from his own rinse, his face clean and fresh. He doesn’t say anything, just leans on the wall behind Price, arms crossed, watching like it’s his favorite show.

Then Nik steps in after him, quieter, bare feet on tile. He doesn’t speak either. Just approaches, moving like a large shadow until he’s just behind Price, close enough to feel the heat rolling off his skin.

Price doesn’t look up. Just smirks faintly and keeps lazily working the oil in.

“Didn’t think you two were so interested in hygiene,” he teases, voice low and amused.

“We’re not,” Ghost rumbles. “Just yours.”

Nik reaches past him without speaking, palm up. Price raises a brow, but drops a few more beads of oil into his hand.

Price tilts his chin up slightly as Nik steps in front, fingertips slick and warm as they work through the lower part of his beard, like scratching an old dog under his chin. Slow. Intentional. Ghost’s eyes are glued to the motion.

“Could get used to this,” Price mutters.

Ghost moves then, silent, sure, and presses in behind him, chest to back, hands resting heavy on Price’s hips. He dips his head and noses at the side of Price’s neck, breathing him in.

“You smell like a bloody forest,” he says, voice low.

“That a complaint?” Price murmurs.

A low chuckle against his skin. “Not a chance.”

Nik finishes with a final stroke, smoothing the shape of the beard. His eyes meet Price’s for a moment. There’s something reverent there. And then his hands drop slow, one curls around Price’s waist. The other touches his chest, fingers splayed.

“You’re spoiling,” Price says softly, grin twitching. “Two bloody giants doting on me like I’m delicate.”

“You are,” Nik answers, pressing a kiss to his throat. “Delicately built for handling two greedy bastards.”

Suddenly Nik’s fingers are digging a bit deeper into his skin, possessive. Ghost’s mouth is open against his neck, breath hot. Price chuckles, but it breaks on a note of pleasure as Nik leans in and licks a stripe along his neck, shameless.

“Oi,” Price says, not moving an inch away. “You lot are animals.”

Ghost growls against his neck. “You smell too good. That’s on you.”

Nik presses his lips to Price’s cheek, slow and deliberate.

Price laughs, deep and indulgent. “Fine, at least let me put a shirt on first.”

Neither of them move.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he mutters. “Greedy, the both of you.”

But He doesn’t sound the least bit annoyed.

...(soft cuddles below. I meant for this to end here, but I needed them 🥺)

They don’t move. Price sighs, quiet, content, and lets his shoulders drop just a little, body easing back into Ghost’s chest while Nik rests against his side. The heat of them wraps around him like a second towel, solid and comforting.

No one says anything for a long moment. There’s no need. The only sounds are the distant hum of the shower pipes settling and the soft inhale-exhale of three steady heartbeats.

Nik lifts his hand again, thumb brushing under Price’s eye like he’s memorizing the lines there. He doesn’t speak. The silence is one Price has learned to read in touches and glances. Right now, it says: You are here. You are safe. And you are mine.

Ghost’s hand shifts slightly, from hip to stomach, slow and splayed. He presses his face into Price’s neck, breath fanning over damp skin, his eyes shut. Nik's hand finds Price’s again, fingers lacing.

It’s quiet again, but the weight of them is there, pressing in just enough. Price lets his eyes close. Leans his head back against Ghost’s shoulder. Nik shifts only to press a kiss to the back of Price's knuckles.

“You lot keep this up,” Price mutters sleepily, “I’m gonna fall asleep right here on the bloody tile.”

Ghost snorts. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Nik’s low chuckle is like velvet. “Bed, then.”

It's more like a suggestion that’s already halfway to a command. But Price feels the tired in it, the weight in his chest, and he turns in Nik’s arms slowly, lifting a hand to cradle Ghost’s jaw for a moment before nodding.

Price never gets that shirt.

The lights stay low. The covers don’t matter at first, because they’ve got each other.

Nik sits against the headboard, Price is pulled back against his chest, broad and solid and always warm. Nik wraps around him like armor. One arm drapes heavy across his stomach, the other resting across his chest, hand curled gently over one shoulder. Price exhales, soft and low, letting the weight settle into him.

Ghost settles in last. He moves without words. He crawls up into the space between Price’s legs and chest like he was made to fit there, bigger than he should be for curling up like this, but he makes it work. Nik moves his hands to make room and hold him too. He presses his face to the center of Price’s chest, nose to skin, arms loosely around his and Nik's waists. Like a fucking cat.

Price huffs a quiet laugh and cards a hand through his damp hair. “You’re too bloody big for this, Simon.”

Ghost just grunts. His voice is half-muffled, lazy.

Price rolls his eyes, but his hands are already moving, one over Ghost’s back in slow circles, the other resting atop Nik’s where it lies on Ghost's back now. His eyes slip closed.

The three of them stacked together like puzzle pieces, breathing each other in, fitting around one another in the stillness. It’s the softest part of their day. The safest.

Ghost shifts just enough to press a kiss to the center of Price’s chest, then sighs. Nik’s breathing slows behind him, steady and even. Price lets himself relax, lets his body go slack.

The room is quiet except for their breathing and a hum of a fan.

And when sleep finally finds him, it’s easy, like slipping beneath water, held and warm and wanted.

[greyangelpain]

Simon and Nick try to not play boyfriends challange: impossible

[jazzemu]

THE SIMON PEGG ARMY GROWS‼️‼️

[ozzythecutecat]

Hot fuzz fan art because it’s my favorite movie of all time and I love it sm 😎

Like I’m serious this movie is THE movie of all time. Literally the funniest shit I’ve ever seen. Hilarious and awesome what else can I say!! 🤷‍♀️

[marlenacantswim]

when i'm feeling down, i just think about angelbutter living their lives together and suddenly the world is two shades brighter.

when @whoophoney's birthday started to roll around, i'd asked her what she wanted me to draw for her, and she said she was really in the mood to see Nicholas kissing Danny on the cheek. Unfortunately, I work at a snail's pace, and it has since been— *checks watch and bites lip* —some time since whoop's birthday. nevertheless, i've gotten it done 💖

closeups + lineart under the cut, snip snip ✂️

nick frost's face is so fucking fun to draw, and i pity anyone who has yet to explore how to convey his facial uniques in their art.

[whoophoney]

"I run the local supermarché. Drop in and see me sometime; my discounts are criminal. Catch me later!"

TIMOTHY DALTON as SIMON SKINNER in HOT FUZZ

[vampyrmar]

another one thank you

[taviokapudding]

Simon Petrikov has always been a GILF and before the crown took over his mind, I think we can all agree long white haired - not ice king yet Simon was kinda hot before the madness set in

Now that I have your attention - hear me out AT fandom- what if Ice Prince in Fionna’s dreams is what Simon/Ice King thought he was throughout the original Adventure Time series?

I always thought Ice King having extremely high self confidence was just a gag or joke before we learned about who Simon was- but there’s tons of instances where he declares he’s hot & doesn’t mind showing off his body in the original. And with the canon 12 yr time skip, we know now everything about Fionna & Cake’s AU and Ice King’s actions to form the AU was based off the madness of the crown playing into Simon’s wish fulfillment, trauma, & life; but also a form of escapism from his reality as a lonely man in a world he cannot relate too.

In the original & first appearance of the AU Ice Queen is H O T {and I’m not just saying that as a pansexual} she is leagues more attractive than how Ice King was and I would argue looks more like what I think Betty would look like if she wore the crown. She’s wish fulfillment but being heavily crown coded explains why she’s no longer Simon’s mind/Fionna’s dreams.

But Ice Prince? That is way more Simon coded than crown & also doesn’t match any of the male background characters we do see in episode 1. What if that’s not just Simon wishing he could be more like Ice King but instead what he actually thought he looked like the whole time the crown controlled him for all those centuries? That would explain why Ice King was so shameless but also partially explain why Simon mentions in ep 2 of Fionna and Cake that he both misses but hates what Ice King looked like.

Yes it’s a Tuxedo Mask reference & an obvious sign Simon still has some magic powers, but you cannot deny that if Simon wanted to dress as Ice King he’d probably go a more Ice Prince style to line up with how he currently dresses. If the AU remained the AU that was all originally knew, Ice Queen would’ve been some evil Sailor Scout or Queen Beryl coded character to Fionna Campbell; Ice Prince wouldn’t be a thing if it was just an alternate universe. And that tall glass of frosty water is definitely what Simon wished he looked like {honestly me too, Ice Prince is so gender}

EDIT: Btw in ep 2 of Fionna and Cake, Ice Queen is seen as the icecream vendor and she looks nothing like Simon but way more like a cross between the Gunther penguins and crown. And yes I know Fionna “dates” Ice King in the original au - my point still stands that it’s still what Simon wanted/thought he looked like with the crown on. Fionna Campbell would be into a very blue robes & wacky eyebrows Ice Prince and Ice Queen wouldn’t be just an icecream vendor who’s nice to kids if the crown had influence still

[mummifiedgoose]

Okay guys I've seen the cornetto trilogy and every mission impossible movie where else can I oggle simon pegg I'm taking suggestions