dhawerdaverd

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I don't punch Nazis.... I give them high fives... To the face

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So I fell very hard into Jedi Fallen Order and Survivor, and of course jumped on the SpyScrapper bandwagon. I have thus started a fix it fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62479153

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This author is one of my favorites, and this fic is just perfect. I recommend all their work, 100%

The last chapter for this fic, I might revisit the AU in the future but for now it's what it is.

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I'm boosting this because I'm from a hurricane prone area, and know what the aftermath of flooding is like . Please donate if you're able to. Asheville and the surrounding areas have a LONG way to go for recovery and rebuilding..

I just heard from my friend who lives in Asheville. She is safe, and recommends The Appalachian Helene Response Fund for donations. It's a network that's doing tremendous good on the ground.

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100000000000% would read this if you wrote it

was reminded of that one jangobi au i almost wrote where boba was force sensitive and jango loves him unconditionally of course but what does he do about that. and his answer is to kidnap the very first jedi he sees, fly them to a remote planet, and tell obi-wan at gunpoint that he's a private tutor now. obi-wan is fine with this btw he's been under a lot of stress lately he's taking a nap first.

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It's a bananawan kenobi

Somewhere out there there's a codywan au where he's a surfer and he works at a frozen banana stand. and uh... yeah. Enter me.

Episode ?: Heatstroke

Obi-Wan overheated in the banana costume and also he saw a hot man and who can blame him

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Eggs: Over medium or scrambled with cheese

Steak: barely any pink

Milk: 2%

Alcohol: Daiquiris, Hand Grenade, Hurricane and Fireball

Warm drink: Sea salt and caramel hot chocolate

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And the fact that so many people now are wanting to put him back in office in November scares the hell out of me

:/

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Fanart inspired by "Careless To Let It Fall" by Artemisdesari

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Oh hey look! Married people!

Just some little doodles of my comfort ship :’] been a little nervous about posting them but here they are lol

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As a reader, as a writer, and as a fan I can’t think of a single website that has given me more happiness than Archive of Our Own. Thank you so much to everyone who works so hard to make it such a wonderful place. 

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The feels I'm feeling right now

#the dialogue from the Alone mission

Ugh, my heart

the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.

empty.

but ghost can't accept that.

price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.

he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.

cold.

it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.

"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.

he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-

"what's my problem?"

ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.

"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."

he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.

it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.

soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.

"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.

it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.

"yes, johnny," he breathes.

soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.

"ugly," he murmurs.

ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.

it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.

agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more

"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp

"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart

soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."

his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.

soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.

they can’t get it off.

they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.

"show my face," soap repeats.

"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-

the muzzle clatters onto the table.

the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.

it belonged to soap.

how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.

just the kind of sick game makarov loves.

ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.

his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.

but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.

ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.

"good to see you again, johnny."

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So I hit a roadblock on my Star Wars fic, and over the holidays I started playing Call of Duty. Have a snippet of a two part series I plan to post about my two favorite boys- Soap and Ghost. This fic will have the title Come What May.

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I love this man your honor

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Thought I'd share my first time drawing the beautiful Captain Rex