Hello! I Haven't Done Any Non-141 Headcanons Yet, So Here We Go! I Always Mildly Dislike When People

Thinking about !Butcher Simon Riley with his sweet regular customer..

Simon Riley who doesn’t believe in starting over. Not really. Retired from the military, he’d traded one kind of blood for another. The butcher shop wasn’t much—small place tucked in the corner of Manchester, no fancy signage, no bright lights—but the regulars came. You came. Twice a week, Wednesdays and Fridays like clockwork.

Simon Riley—your butcher—moves with a kind of brutal grace behind the counter, sleeves rolled to his elbows, arms cut from marble and hard labor. You watch him work the cleaver like it’s an extension of his body. Focused. Calm. Every slice is deliberate, clean, respectful. There’s no waste in his motion, no hesitation in his hands.

You tell yourself it’s just the way he works—but your heart tells you otherwise. It stutters every time he glances up and catches you staring. You always look away too fast.

He’s seen things, you can tell. Something in the set of his shoulders, in the way he carries silence like a second skin. They say he was military once, but no one in the neighborhood asks. They just buy their lamb chops and brisket, nod respectfully, and leave him be.

But not you.

Sometimes you don’t even need anything. You come into his shop just to linger by the display case, pretend to think hard when he asks what you’re in the mood for, and always end up letting him choose. You like the way he speaks when he’s talking about cuts—like meat is an art form and he’s the only one who understands it. Like there’s a language in bone and fat and sinew, and he knows how to read it all.

He knows you’re into him.

You think he doesn’t notice—how your eyes linger on the flex of his forearms, how your breath catches when he tightens his grip on the knife. But he does. He knew from the first time you smiled at him over a pound of sirloin, all nervous and bright-eyed.

And he liked—more than he should’ve—how you smelled faintly of sugar and coffee when you leaned in to hand him cash.

It wasn’t anything serious. Not at first. Just a little dance. A tilt of your head, a brush of your fingers when he passed you the package. He told himself it was nothing.

But he starts saving the best cuts for you. Packs a little extra into your order. Keeps the shop open late on days when you run behind, just in case. It’s nothing. And it’s everything.

The day you tell him about your promotion, you’re practically vibrating. He can see it before you even speak. You ask—halting, hopeful—if he’d like to come over for dinner. Just dinner. Maybe.

He says yes.

Later, in your tiny kitchen, you cook with meat he cut for you himself. he watches you handle the meat. Sees the way your hands move, careful, precise, even if you’re nervous. You ask him how thin the slices should be. You ask him if he likes garlic. Ask if he likes bourbon. Fuck—darlin’, are you trying to get yourself a ring?

He’s still all knives and scars and quiet edges—but with you, he doesn’t have to be just that. So when you ask him if he wants to stay a little longer after dinner. With that soft, bright smile like you’re not afraid of what’s under his skin, something in him loosens. Maybe even heals, just a little. And he finds he doesn’t mind saying yes to that either.

═════════════════════════

Hello! More headcannons! I am having lots of fun <3 kinda got a bit angsty oops

Anyway!

Have some lightly angsty cod headcanons!

Simon has a love hate relationship with cigarettes. Sure, they help him relax. But he hates them. The smell, the bite they take out of his bank account, how they make his teeth worse. He isn't a self destructive angsty teen anymore. So! He decides to quit. Tries his hardest to do it quietly, but the rest of the team notices quick. He chews a lot of gum because he scoffs at the stupid nicotine patches. Goes cold turkey, because he doesn't do things in half measures. Sure, he was grumpy as hell for the first few months, but after a while he notices how he's struggling less. Doesn't preassure anyone else to quit. Just wasn't for him, he says. He keeps chewing the gum though. Just ate mint and cinnamon when he first quit, but he branched out eventually. Likes watermelon the best now.

Johnny is an artist. It's canon, we all know that. I propose a Johnny who volunteers as a muralist when on leave. Goes around, painting walls anywhere he's asked. Hospitals, subways, schools, homeless shelters, bridges, ect. His family helps send jobs his way. He tells himself that it's just to help out. Just to practice and add to the community, have fun with a different medium. Won't tell himself that its a way to make sure he's remembered for anything besides the things he did while deployed. Does he regret those things? Hell no. But does he need to be more than just a soldier? Hell yes.

Price who doesn't have a life outside of the military. Gaz has his support group, Soap has his hobbies, Simon does...whatever the hell he does. Price has nothing. On the way to becoming everything he thought he needed to be, he forgot to be anyone besides the Captain. He pretends it doesn't bother him. And it doesn't, at least, not in a debilitating way. But it shows in the little things. How he always stays late doing work, checking on the wounded, helping out. Pretends it isn't him avoiding his empty apartment. His empty life outside of the military, his boys.

Gaz goes to therapy at the behest of his mom. He checks it off like it was just another box. He pretends at all the progress he's making, hiding how everytime he goes in he goes into the mindset of an interrogation. Let them know nothing, deflect and distract. Lets the therapist think he's a good patient. Talking about his "regrets", the horrors on the field, the nightmares. He does the actual coping later. Journals, then burns them. No loose ends. Writes down everything. The things on the field, how he doesn't- can't- regret a damn thing. Just that he didn't do better. He's suprised when later, after a mission, he's using the breathing exercises the therapist taught him. Maybe it wasn't all pretend afterall.

My favorite thing about Dracula Daily Tumblr Edition is that we have all gone from "look at our good friend adorable woobie Jonathan Harker discovering spices" to "RIP HIS THROAT OUT, J-HARK, YOU'VE GOT THIS."

I did not need to be reminded of this*

Rewatched LOTR for the millionth time and took even more psychic damage than usual, have a scene repaint of Faramir suffering

They're fooling around drunk, Simon's hand stroking the Scotsman's cock as his other hand holds him firmly at the back of his neck. Scuffing him like a mutt. He doesn't think much about what he's saying, attention focused on Johnny as the sergeant tries to keep his moaning quiet.

"If you cum on my hand, I'll make you lick it clean, pup."

The downright pathetic groan that leaves Johnny's lips as his hips buck up to meet Simon's hand, coating his hand in cum is music to his fucking ears.

The next time he gets his hand on Johnny's cock, he isn't stopping until he yips like the brainless puppy he is.

Lord of the Rings Legolas reminds me a deer. The more I think I about it the more it’s just consuming my brain.

Bro has soft doe eyes.

Bro’s eyes sparkle.

Bro is soft. Like deer.

Bro is from the woodland. Like deer.

I am obsessing like look at these gifs and tell me they don’t give you soft deer vibes ???

DUDE JUST GIVES SOFT DEER VIBES I DONT KNOW HOW ELSE TO EXPLAIN IT

okay, so i know ppl are talking abt wraiths and implications but im just here like-

aragorn just doesn’t want his new friend to even think abt dying?? he wants frodo, sam, merry and pippin to be healthy, please and thank you, and aragorn will ensure that, for better or worse!

like- he just cares! and i think this is a sweet moment. v “dont u even joke abt that!”

Non-sexual things that COD people do to drive their SO feral? Thoughts?

- John with his tippy toe hip thrust thing has Nik in a chokehold, also instead of moving a chair in like a normal person John does this little scooting/hip thrust/legs spread manoeuvre that is too good to ignore.

(Evidence of this is seen during the Cutscene of Kate and John meeting to discuss making Taskforce 141)

-Kate has a way of folding her arms and looking down at her that has Sarah turning to utter jelly. Kate also has restless hands, likes to tap, stroke and squeeze, so a simple repeated gesture such as drumming her fingers on her thigh from Kate has Sarah wondering how else to occupy her lovely wife's hands.

-Faralexgaz I think would love for almost domestic self care, watching Farah brush and braid her hair had her boys fidgeting and wanting to touch, watching Gaz rub in his hydration lotions makes the other two wanna lick it off and Alex doing his facial hair maintenance with the oiling and trimming has Gaz on his knees "Helping" while Farah holds the mirror for them.

- Ghoap where Soap goes feral seeing how Ghost's mask moves, he can SEE when ghost's tongue wets his lips under that thing and he wants that tongue in his mouth immediately. He's a Victorian man seeing a scrap of ankle every smoke break when he sees Ghost lift the balaclava for a ciggie (Never mind the fact he knows exactly what's under the balaclava intimately)

-Alerudy with Alejandro being utterly pavloved when Rudy adjusts his leather belt, the sound of it is like ringing a dinner bell for a starved man. Also if Alejandro takes his gloves off with his teeth, it's not exactly Rudy's fault if he wants them in his mouth afterwards.

-Graves getting a little power trip from all the "Yup Yups" from his people, he's very touchy even during basic pre-check for missions so the shadows are all definitely angling themselves to make sure he touches them as he passes.

This was like a cool glass of lemonade on a warm day. Like waking up only to realise that you have three hours before your alarm goes off and you can go back to sleep. Like when you're six drinks in and vodka is now tasteless.

A blessing.

John Price's little hip thrust move is responsible for several casualties, Nikolai included. Sometimes he doesn't even realise he's doing it but the minute Nikolai spots it, his eyes are on John's crotch. John moves his hips far more than he thinks he does and all Nikolai can think of is the times he's stood behind the Englishman and made him buck up into Nik's hand instead of stroking his cock like John had so nicely asked.

When Kate crosses her arms and looks at you, it feels like she's looking down on you. It isn't intentional, she just has that intimidating feel to her and Sarah eats it up. But when they're at a bar and there's a table of men acting rowdy, Kate is irritated and she has one elbow resting on the bar with her other hand trailing her nails up and down Sarah's thigh? Well, Sarah is glad she wore a skirt because Kate'll be needing easy access when Sarah drags them both home. They don't even make it upstairs into their bedroom, Kate fucks her up against their front door and the next morning she comes downstairs to find her own black lace panties by their welcome mat.

Farah's version of unwinding before bed is sitting down in one of Gaz's t-shirts and a stolen pair of Alex's boxers as she braids her hair. It's habit and she doesn't have to think twice about doing it. Alex and Gaz are amazed by it, how quickly and efficiently her hands move when she doesn't even have to look. It's hypnotic. And it has Gaz crawling on his knees over to the end of the bed where she's sitting to massage her shoulders only his hands slip under the shirt and it devolves from there. Watching Alex trim his moustache always turns into sex to the point that if he doesn't want to get interrupted part way through and have to come back to finish trimming it after they're all thoroughly fucked out then he has to hide from both Farah and Gaz.

God, Ghost lifting the balaclava just enough to smoke. Soap is staring at him with dazed eyes like he just watched Ghost hand place the stars. Something about it feels personal to him, being allowed to see that bit of Ghost when he's in the "uniform" despite the fact that he has not only seen Ghost naked but he's also had the other man's cock in his mouth. But that little flash of skin, that has him damn near panting like a fucking dog.

Alejandro upon seeing Rudy's shiny new leather belt realises two things. One, introducing leather into their sex life might've been a bad idea because now he can't see it on the other man without feeling horny. Two, if Rudy doesn't tie him down, gag him with that belt and ride him until Alejandro's crying and begging him to stop then he might explode. The first time Rudy watches Laejandro pull his gloves off with his teeth, Rudy almost walks directly in the path of a moving vehicle. He blames his concussion, it's only partly to blame. Alejandro eventually notices that the action tends to render his sergeant major stupid and acts accordingly. The next time Rudy wears gloves, Alejandro pulls them off by the fingertips with his teeth and he barely has time to drop them from his mouth before he's yanked forward and mey with Rudy biting his lip while he unzips Ale's pants.

I think Graves is big on putting his hand on the back of someone's neck and squeezing because to him it's a friendly, reassuring touch. To his Shadows it's a memory for the wankbank because his hands are warm and his touch is firm. Graves himself, he knows there are eyes on him. He's their leader, he's God in this crowd of followers. They hang on his every word. Their importance is measured by him. There's little a hookup can do for him in comparison to how his Shadows eyes will follow his every move when he asks their attention.