I was just scrolling through the pins of a discord server and I suddenly remembered this THING.
My magnum opus.
56 notes
·
View notes
I can’t remember their faces.
I try so hard to remember them, but they all jumble together into this senseless pattern. I gaze into their eyes till my head aches, but all I see, are fractured orbital sockets, broken nasal bones, facial lacerations, antemortem wounds - and their skulls are crushed, and their collar bones are shattered.
They shouldn't be able to speak, but they do.
They can’t stop talking to me - and I can’t stop listening.
OC: Asva
Don't repost or edit.
442 notes
·
View notes
Lick Your Wounds
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar)
Chapters: 2/3
Notes: Thank you to @solidly-indulgent for inspiring the fic with their request of Jag getting injured and Ghost being sad feral, I'm cranking out these chapters, also idk why this needed to be a chapter but we had to put Ghostie through some more ~t r a u m a~, smut next chapter,
Part One | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST
Simon watched everything happen with wide eyes behind his mask. He watched as the man with the rocket launcher’s brains exited his skull, watched as the death of his cranial neurons caused his finger to twitch against the trigger—one last desperate grip at life. And he watched in absolute horror as the missile made contact with the wall you were firing from. Screamed your name as the wall caved in a plume of smoke and chaos. Shook Soap’s hand off of his shoulder when he tried to pull him into cover.
It’s happened once before, these feelings. A long time ago when he saw the corpses of his family littered about the floor. His nephew looked undisturbed, as if he was just sleeping. His mother, face down. Every sequential death he witnessed or caused left him feeling nothing. He’d steeled all his emotions away, turning himself into an empty vessel: a ghost. Waking in the middle of the night drenched in sweat—to horrors replaying and a voiceless scream on his lips and a constant numbness. But here he was, all these years later. Feeling. Guess you brought out the worst in him. You reminded him he was human after all.
Soap yanked him hard into cover as a bullet whizzed by his head.
“L.T.!” the Scot shouted. “L.T. focus! We can’t worry about her right now.” He fired his assault rifle at an approaching target.
Can’t worry about her. It echoed in his head. Reverberated off every part of his skull. In spite of the oppressive heat, Simon felt hypothermic—like he was frozen in Russia instead of this Mexican jungle. But he sucked in a deep breath and snapped back into The Ghost because that was all he knew how to do. He stabbed the enemy next to him in the neck; a spray of blood gushed across his mask as he removed his bowie knife.
The pair advanced in unison. Soap set up the charges against the metal door to the target room while Ghost provided cover.
“Clear out!” Soap shouted. Simon shifted two steps to his left.
The explosion was small but impactful as it burst the doors open. Soap ducked inside, clearing out any remaining enemies while Ghost surveyed the grounds of the compound, looking for any stragglers. He fired his rifle into a few more bodies before following Soap.
“Fuck,” Soap breathed.
The inside was filled with caches of equipment. Computers, hard drives, munitions. It was what all of you had come for and then some. All the evidence that the Buluc Chabtan were smuggling for the Cartel.
“It’s gonna take ages to sort through this, L.T..”
Simon’s mind was still reeling—fighting the bile that was threatening to come up. He tamped it down.
“Fifteen minutes, Sergeant. That’s all the time we get if reinforcements come.” He looked at his watch and then at Soap with something of a plea in his eyes.
Johnny sighed. “Go. I’ll bag as much as I can.”
Ghost nodded, then threw his collapsable duffel on the floor and hurried out the door.
Back in the stifling heat, Ghost weaved between crates and trucks and corpses, making his way toward you as fast as he could while maintaining his guard. It was oddly quiet amidst the chaos—all the insects and birds silenced and only the radio playing. The compound appeared clear as he sprinted with his rifle in hand. His sweat drenched his camo fatigues, turning them a shade darker. Ahead, he finally saw the rubble and smoke from the rocket's destruction. He felt the bile come back but sucked in a deep breath instead and climbed inside the collapsed structure.
154 notes
·
View notes
"Beginning..."
(repost from my instagram)
This ended up being my favorite drawing so far, I have like 7 unfinished tc drafts I want to finish and thought this would end there too, but nope!
Either way, suprirsed by how much I didin't hate it.
Tags:
44 notes
·
View notes
Yknow how Little Guy is represented by a Mii on Naomi's computer? Yeah, I couldn't quite see Scar doing that, so its a meme of Jellie instead.
Grian tries to be serious about his work, but he has a silly brain.
[I'm not SUUUUPPPER proud of this but I've gotta give something for this au. For the girls and the gays.]
625 notes
·
View notes