Untitled

[dorkus99-com]

Ghoap

Gaz holding up a piece of paper saying “I’m wearing a wire”: Hey ghost, nice weather aye? What’s your favorite thing about soap.

Ghost: That he’s my boyfriend.

Soap, outraged, appearing right behind Kyle: For fucks sake you can’t say ONE nice thing to me about me ?!

Ghost: I can but they aren’t meant for your ears.

Later at some pub, many many many drinks in.

Ghost: He always washes the black clothing first cause he knows it’s all I wear, he’s insanely good at charades, I love the scar on his chin, the day after he shaves and his face’s all prickly, when he’s fresh out the shower and his Mohawk is all floppy, he’s always sketching ideas for my next tatt—the day we got together I tattooed his name on my arm, oh and when—

Soap, coming back from the bathroom: Wouldn’t believe the line, LT

Ghost: Hm.

[haveuseenlilith]

I imagine TF 141 hanging out in their favorite pub. Pints in their hands and watching the Scotland vs. Haiti game sitting on the bar.

One second, they're laser focused on the game shown on the plasma--But when it ended on Scotland's win, Soap violently stood up, knocked his chair and shouted "No Scotland, no party!!"

His lieutenant is unfortunately sitting beside him already muttering curses under his breath, his ears getting ripped apart by Soap's triumphant shouts. The next second, he's held up by Soap shaking him in celebration, but remains nonchalant. His pint at hand already flailing and the liquid pouring all over them.

Gaz and Price are watching them both in amusement. They both said their apologies to the bartender for the mess, and readily bought another 2 pints for the two idiots because they already know this will happen.

👻🧼🚬🧢

RIP Soap. I bet you would be ecstatic now if Makarov didn't shoot your brains out 😭

I wanted to draw this as a comic soooo bad, but my pad is broken. So I'll just write down this random brain worm for now.

[laswells-ashtray]

They bicker like an old married couple, get into screaming matches over football when drunk and smack each other like wains fighting over a toy if they sit on the couch together for too long.

But they don't fight.

At least, they don't fight until Simon washes a blanket. It's red, white and blue, and it's been on their bed for weeks. It smells like sweat, fags and the faint hint of aftershave. Common sense tells Simon to toss it in for a wash.

It's childish, Johnny's reaction. Slamming things down on the kitchen counter as he unpacks shopping bags, red in the face and swearing him out in that heavy, almost indiscernible Scottish brogue.

Quite frankly, Simon wants to leave until the other man can get his act together because he won't tolerate a tantrum over a household task. Until Johnny's voice wavers and he catches a glimpse of the other man's eyes, rimmed with tears.

"What's so special about that fucking blanket? You don't kick up a fuss when I was any of the others."

"It wis ma da's. Huvane fuckin washed it since he-"

Since he died.

The blanket that Johnny's dad kept over his chair at the sergeant's childhood home, because it's his team's colours, something the man had told Simon when Johnny had reluctantly dragged him away to meet his parents.

And Johnny refused to wash it because it still smelled like his dad's aftershave, one he'd been using for years on end and refused to change, claiming loyalty to the brand that made it.

Suddenly, Simon feels like a cunt. The idea of holding a parent close after their passing, remembering their smell and the sound of their voice, was something that never crossed his mind. He can't relate to the experience. Once again, his own father managed to ruin something for him, and the man is long dead.

[mala--draws]

“you [were] gentle— a cleft in the rock of the world i could hide in” blanche, a streetcar named desire

[lawnchairmower]

A quick doodle...Ver'alor Ghost loves his blue milk ft. the lovely Ruus'alor Gaz who i am totally not screaming over armor designs rn

[rimfaxe]

OK i did not mean to work on this before the last page of "The Reveal" but like sometimes things just doesnt go they way you think! XD

ANYWAYS.... Heres Ghosts first meeting with Graves, and i can tell you there will only be one more meeting after this >:3

ALSO, ive suffered so having to draw Graves so much! and i hope theres not any serious mistakes in this cause man am i tired now. And the dialouge is very much cringe but i just wanted Graves to be a huge asshole ok XD

[haveuseenlilith]

Soap was just about to leave his room when he saw Gaz jogging up to him, already smiling and looking giddy.

Breathless because of his excitement, he reached out to Soap's shoulders for support. "They're serving haggis in the mess hall, mate. Get a move on before it runs out!"

Soap's eyes went wide. He was craving it for ages. Haggis were only served in the officer's mess sometimes, but never in the Sergeants'. There were few cafés outside Credenhill, but their haggis taste rank. The good ones are located farther, and only available in the early morning. Of course, Soap won't be able to drive out and pick some as soon he wakes up.

"Och! Thank the heavens. Race ye there!" Soap took off to the mess hall's direction and Gaz followed behind.

When they reached it, Soap pushed the double doors with extra force that the others stopped what they're doing to look at him. Like on a mission, his eyes focused on the serving line, which was unexpectedly a bit longer today, definitely because of the rare item in the menu. He and Gaz beelined to grab their trays and plates.

"Look, almost everyone's getting the haggis," Gaz leaned to Soap, saying it in an almost whisper manner, as if they're plotting something sinister. "Reckon there will be left for us?"

"Has to be, mate," Soap's brows furrowed and eyed every person that's getting it on their plate. "Ah'm Scottish, ah deserve tae have it!" He said it with absolute resolve that it sounded like a bloody declaration.

Gaz huffed a laugh. "Too right, mate. Let's hope at least we get one each. It's been long since I last had it too."

Little by little, the pile of haggis was thinning. Soap didn't know that he was swallowing and muttering a small wish to the heavens. Please make 'em ignore mah wee haggis, please let me have 'em.

Then, a hulking form walked hurriedly past them, straight to the front of the serving line, wearing his usual black balaclava with skull print. Soap tried to grab his arm but he was too fast. The others in line automatically gave way to Ghost, stepping back without a single breath of complaint. Of course they know better than to argue with Lieutenant Riley, the legendary 'Ghost'.

Gaz was equally surprised, his mouth wide opened. But not Soap. "Oi, Ghost! There's a line! Have ye gone blind?"

Ghost looked at them blankly, then he flipped the finger. He turned away, talked to the server, and got all the remaining slices of haggis. He turned back to Soap, obviously looking cocky and triumphant even with the mask on.

Soap's shoulders droop down. Gaz noticed and tapped Soap's shoulder, trying to comfort his defeated friend. "Right, back to English fry-up, then. At least, that won't run out."

Soap only got 2 eggs and a toast. Gaz and him went to sit at Ghost's table. Still sulking, he sliced his egg violently and shoved it to his mouth. In between, he'll look at Ghost's plate, to the stack of juicy haggis, and to Ghost, who was deliberately eating his toast and eggs painfully slow.

"At least get it down yer mouth fast, ye bawbag," Soap muttered, stopping himself from practically drooling now that it was just a few inches from him, he could almost taste the smell. He swallowed hard and scowled at Ghost. Ghost looked amused, watching him intently.

"Copy that, Sergeant," Ghost then picked up the pace, finished other items in his plate quickly, except the stack of haggis. He then pushed it closer to Soap. "Actually took it all for you, seeing you there mentally cursing everyone who's getting it."

Soap felt his cheeks warm up, he paused and looked at Ghost, then to the plate. "Ye sure?"

"Very," Ghost's eyes lingered at him for a second, then stood up. "I'm off to the range, training the FNGs," he tapped Gaz's shoulder then walked straight out of the mess hall.

When Ghost was finally not in sight, Soap clapped his hands to his face. His uncovered ears obviously red as a tomato.

"So, you're eating these or not?" Gaz snickered, already happily sticking his fork to a few slices of haggis and placing it on his own plate. "Ahh, the perks of being Ghost's favorite."

Soap slapped Gaz's hand lightly. "Haud yer wheesht! And that's enough fer ye! They're mine!"

🧢👻🧼

Ghost is just really observant when it comes to his favorite sergeant.

Brain's still infested with random slice-of-Ghost-and-Soap's-life worms.

[lawnchairmower]

Ramikadyc-A Star Wars Call of Duty AU

ramikadyc: commando state of mind - an attitude that he/she can do anything, endure anything, and achieve the objective.

Part One

Five Years Before the Battle Of Geonosis

Sundari, Mandalore.

In the wake of the cleanup of the Deathwatch attack (Kryze and Almec say that Deathwatch no longer exists, was shattered a long time ago, but everyone knows better) on the Sundari Dome, blue and red lights flashing against shattered glass-Gaz can’t stop staring at Alor’ad Price’s EE-3 carbine blaster rifle. 

It’s not like Gaz had never seen a blaster before. In fact he had held one, shot one before Clan Garrick gave up their arms and beskar in exchange for pacificism, for a promise of no more blood, no more war, no more senseless violence. 

So much for that. 

Even as a Mandalorian police sergeant, working in tandem with the Mandalorian Protectors assigned to guard Duchess Satine Kryze; he didn’t have a blaster. Gaz had always secretly, blasphemously considered a blaster the true weapon of the Mandalorians. 

Even when his cousin brought back a broken, smoldering carbine to his aunt, the only thing that was left of his uncle after Galidraan and his aunt collapsed in his mother’s arms. Even when his family melted down their beskar and Gaz managed to snag his late father’s helmet and hide it away. Even when he had witnessed innocent civilians be slain by the same blaster bolts Gaz yearned to wield. Gaz looks down at his electro-baton and shield, then to the lights bouncing off of Price’s scuffed armor as Alor’ad Price talks with the Alor’ad of the Mandalorian Royal Guard.

If Gaz had a blaster, maybe he would be able to save more people.

If all Mandalorians had a blaster, maybe less innocents would be dead, and more of the enemy would.

Price snaps Gaz out of his thoughts. 

“You saved lives today, Ruus’alor.” He says in that gruff voice, barely different from when Price’s voice was distorted by the vocoder of his helmet, which he currently has tucked under his arm. 

Gaz creases his eyebrows as he looks at the sheets laid over corpses, scattered all across the city square. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, sir.” He says, tearing his gaze away from the bodies and turning around to meet Price’s flinty blue eyes. 

“They sent us in half-assed, so everyone can just keep pretending we’re not at war anymore, pretending that Kyr'tsad isn’t-” He cuts himself off, lips pursing as his eyes flicker away from Price’s steely gaze. 

Kyr’tsad. Deathwatch. Like speaking the damned name will bring another explosion, another attack, another war. 

“...Sir.” 

Price simply juts his head slightly. “Go on.” 

Gaz bites his tongue for a moment, jaw clenching as he looks at the carnage laid out before him-part of his home, now festering with a violence that could have been put down faster, quicker, maybe if he and the Guard had been allowed to investigate the previous threats beforehand, maybe if Gaz had a goddamn blaster-

Gaz turns his attention back to Price. “We don’t stand a chance in hell with these rules of engagement, Captain,” He nearly hisses, voice low. “They can tell us where, they can tell us when…but don’t tell us how.” 

Gaz’s gaze subconsciously flickers to the carbine strapped to Price’s waist, before he tears it away again in a millisecond. 

Alor’ad John Price, of course, notices. He leans in just a little bit, as if shielding the rest of the galaxy from their conversation. 

“You’re tired of the inaction.” Price says. Gaz clenches his jaw again, looking away; he says nothing, but his silence speaks for him. Price keeps going. 

“Mandalore and Her people deserve peace, yeah...but peace is won with violence, in a way. With putting the enemy down-completely. ‘S the natural order of things.” Price says in a low, gravelly voice. 

Gaz shakes his head. “But we didn’t put the enemy down. Not completely. Maybe it’s Kyr’tsad, maybe it’s not, but…something’s not right. There’s not as much stability in our system as everyone claims. Just ‘cause the war is over…” He trails off, exhaling deep and silent as he views the carnage again. When did the violence stop? Did it ever really stop? Would it have been better or worse if Mandalore didn’t give up Her arms?

…Would Deathwatch still exist, otherwise?

The Great Clan Wars, the Mandalorian Civil war, whatever you called it-was a tricky thing. Gaz had been taught it like every Mandalorian child, had heard the stories from plenty of viewpoints, angles, perspectives, first-hand experiences. Peace against violence, violence against peace, Deathwatch, New Mandalore, Old Mandalorians, True Mandalorians, Traditionalists, the Faithful, the Faithless, and-

None of them were happy stories, and every word, every story, every belief of nonviolence weaved into Gaz’s psyche just confused him more when he saw what peaceful inaction led to-

-Bodies, bodies, and more bodies...in his humble opinion, of course.

Price snaps him out of his thoughts again. “...but the war’s never truly over, isn’t it?” He says gruffly. Gaz bites the inside of his cheek this time, shifting slightly.

Price doesn’t say anything else; patiently waiting for the Sergeant to speak, waiting for Gaz’s piece which they both know is not going to be in disagreement. 

Not now. 

.........................................................................................................................

alor’ad: captain

kyr'tsad: Deathwatch-breakaway Mandalorian sect

ruus'alor: Sergeant

Thoughts, comments, concerns, anyone? This is my first time writing fic in awhile! Hope whoever reads this likes it lol <3

[lawnchairmower]

COD modern warfare but it's a clone wars AU? Anyone? Anyone...will probs drop more lore soon. Here is our lovely Ver'alor (Lieutenant) Ghost.

[ravaniacrescentia]

Chibi sketch dump. More under the cut, once again, with nonsense from start to finish. Starting with The Shield and The Shadow fanart!

Sometimes I think I need my chibi license revoked.

Johnny about to get his jingles jangled. RIP

[brattypagansub]

Soap: *whom was just woken up from a nap by Gaz’s boot in his side* WHAT THE HELL ARE Y-

Ghost: *who just threw the boot eyes widening in horror*

Price: That’s either the best or worst timing in the world. Can’t tell.

Soap: *whom just ate a boot to the face. Turns around locks in on Simon and beams him in the junk*

Gaz: *whom hit the deck, eyes wide and slightly teary eyed* I thought I was gonna die.

[rimfaxe]

Yesterday was my 1 year anniversary on tumblr! I may have been here before but that was so many years ago so we're not counting that!

This also means ive been into ghoap just as long, and I honestly dont see me leaving that space anytime soon though!!!

HUGE THANKS to every single one of you for making this year so frickin awesome! <3

I decided to redraw the first post i made in celebration! (with some minor changes :3) you'll find it below the cut or here's the link to the post, i remember i really liked it but oh man did i draw Soap skinny! XD

[robertwire]

almost finished with this 430k soap/ghost(/gaz) vampire fic and i've had a great time. much like soap, who has spent nearly the entire thing wet and wretched (positive)

[stormfrun-corp]

Oh, and yeah, I kind of forget to post pictures

It's something with a summer and warm vibe, guys are relaxing, they have a vacation, and everything's fine

The sun is warmer than ever

Inspired by the art I saw on Pinterest and didn't save...

[kazifrost]

More Cat 141 Doodles!!

[salt-lake3]

Late but not too much

[midnight-k1ss]

Boxer Ghost