Cod Mw2 - Tumblr Posts
i wanna know how baby daddy Simon would handle his kids teenage rebellion phase PLEASE 🙏
Not well.
This man loves his kids, he die for them, kill for them; however, he has no good representation of a father or how to raise children. He knows what a mother’s love is but does not know to be a good father.
His kids know he’s in the military, and that it and his identity needs to be hidden.
His kids probably grew up being teased for coming from a single mom. Bullied for not always having the latest clothes or technology (Simon didn’t think it was necessary. He will never let them live in poverty with no new clothes, but brand clothes make no sense to him.)
If his kid is a Boy, he be more involve and show a tuff love situation, like how he deals with recruits but less soul crushing and miserable. Maybe try to connect. If his Son becomes abusive or a womanizer Simon won’t let that slide.
If his kid is a Girl, who is rebelling by acting out and partying, he’s going to ground her and take away privileges. He won’t take brat behavior. If his daughter is rebelling by doing drugs and alcohol, straight to rehab.
If his kid is Nonbinary he has no idea what to do. He’s an old man at heart, struggle to understand or get. He thinks it’s stupid and it drives a wedge between them. His child is more likely do more self harming stuff Simon will step in.
In all I feel like his kids either gender or in between struggle with a sense of abandonment issues or daddy issues. It’s not that he doesn’t love them, but it’s because he’s technically dead, and does dangerous work.
How would Baby Daddy! Simon if Reader get's into another relationship?
Jealous. Jealous. JEALOUS!
That man is fuming, but he can’t do anything, it was his idea to separate.
Like why are you dating if you still have him?
He isn’t going to sabotage your date or scare him off, no he’s gonna do anything better than the guy.
Joke aside
I don’t see reader falling in love with another man. Simon is still around, in volved, and still active. To some degree you syill feel married tp him.
Hell he do anything for you and do you.
Baby daddy Gaz? Baby daddy gaz 😏
Anyways should I?
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader drops by the base with a bucket full of eels to pour onto Soap as he sleeps
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who then blames it on Gaz and Soap 100% believing them
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who took off running when Gaz saw them and climbed onto Ghost and hissed like a raccoon and began to honk like a goose weirding everyone out
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who looked all 141 in the eyes before eating a cockroach alive
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who stole Price's hat and hid it in Soap's room getting him in trouble
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who gives Soap his first gray hair in the span of 30 minutes of being on base
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who was asked to come down and help with a bomb because they constantly work on creating new fireworks, bombs, explosive
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who is a pyromaniac that stares at every fire they see to the point Soap has a leash attached to their belt to drag them places
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who left Soap gagging, gasping, and crying for some peace
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader drops by the base with a bucket full of eels to pour onto Soap as he sleeps
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who then blames it on Gaz and Soap 100% believing them
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who took off running when Gaz saw them and climbed onto Ghost and hissed like a raccoon and began to honk like a goose weirding everyone out
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who looked all 141 in the eyes before eating a cockroach alive
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who stole Price's hat and hid it in Soap's room getting him in trouble
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who gives Soap his first gray hair in the span of 30 minutes of being on base
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader Who was asked to come down and help with a bomb because they constantly work on creating new fireworks, bombs, explosive
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who is a pyromaniac that stares at every fire they see to the point Soap has a leash attached to their belt to drag them places
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who left Soap gagging, gasping, and crying for some peace and side-eyeing Soap to do anything
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who is definitely on the Autism ADHD spectrum
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who fell asleep actually saying mimimimi as a sore
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who makes all of 141 drink and cry after they left
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who is now band from all base activity unless it's world-ending events
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader whom Soap loves dearly but is too... chaotic for even him
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who is Soap's only family who is still around
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who sends Soap weird ass shit with no context
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who knows all the base drama and has weekly gossip Facetime as they cook and Soap has some off time
Soap's eccentric Cousin! reader who sends Soap actual homemade soap they found in food shape because one time Soap accidentally ate Soap when he was sleep deprived on leave
What if Tortured Serial Killer! reader gets caught by 141?
It’s chaotic.
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader Pure miracle, they literally stumble across them
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader took over seven shots and got knocked out by Ghost's punch
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader who woke up chain to a chair and patched up by a fried medic with no pain killer
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader who woke up screaming and cursing
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader who grew quiet before laughing once they saw them and scream at Ghost saying they murder him
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader who didn’t flinch at the prospect of torture or flinch at the idea, already derealizing and dissociating into lalaland
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader who was put into jail because everyone think their working for Makarov
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader who had their records uncover by Laswell for Price
Tortured Serial Killer! Reader who’s fate enrage Price and co. and at Ghost for standing by
In all Tortured Serial Killer! Reader is bloodthirsty for justice, revenge, and retribution. Ghost got a lot of explaining to do
Omg I immediately fell in love with your babydaddy!simon fics🫶🏼🫶🏼
do you think them having a baby has affected their sex lives? Especially at the beginning when their daughter was really young and they were still together?
Thank you so much!!!
——
Yes.
50% young parents too tired because a new born is a lot of work. Other 50% too scared, they does not need or can afforded a second child.
It takes awhile to get back to sleeping together. And for Simon it’s more out of deep love for the mother of his child.
Simon thought reader was pretty before and even after birth when her body isn’t the same it was still Gorgeous to him.
Sex isn’t rough it’s deep and passionate. This man make love as if it’s the last thing he can do.
Baby Daddy! Gaz
Baby Daddy! Kyle is your long-time boyfriend who hasn’t asked you to marry him
Baby Daddy! Kyle who cried and immediately called his Mama and grandma
Baby Daddy! Kyle who couldn’t think so he went book shopping for parenting books and how to take care of babies
Baby Daddy! Kyle who grew a great fear of dying so he spent an entire weekend making a will
Baby Daddy! Kyle who went to Price to be Godfather
Baby Daddy! Kyle who was thrown a baby shower by Soap and a very annoyed Ghost
Baby Daddy! Kyle who learns he's gonna have twins and begins to brainstorm name ideas
Baby Daddy! Kyle who was there for the birth of his son and daughter and held both in his arms refusing to let them go
Baby Daddy! Kyle who takes a few days off and has over 100 photos of just his baby and another 50 of you and the babies
Baby Daddy! Kyle who was so upset he wasn't there for the first step or word, did drink himself stupid and cried to Soap for at least an hour like someone coming out of anesthesia, Soap took a good... 5 videos of Gaz making a fool of himself.
Baby Daddy! Kyle who comes home from tour always with gifts for you and the baby
Baby Daddy! Kyle who fights the urge to buy all the cute baby clothes, especially the girl clothes (they are always cuter)
I do badly want to write a small fic where Graves has an adopted daughter, who’s a little strange
Humanoid monster
Previous, Next
“What was that about?” Soap asks Gaz. The two of them backed down when the reporters got nosy, they followed her all night long hounding her for answers.
“Abraham believed In a theory, it's written in Latin so either she knows Latin or Abraham told her.” Gaz grumble digging through his notebook.
“What theory?”
“There was a time were humans and monsters got along, they worshiped this female deity. She was murdered, and war broke out, Abraham was born in the last few days of her reign.” Gaz explains finding his notes he had written about back when he was in school.
“So?”
“So Abraham no longer speaks about this time, and in one of his papers, he theorizes this deity is still alive.”
“Mate—”
“That woman is highly educated, she shouldn't be, she wasn't born here she *came* here. Teaching humans is banned in all states except for Switzerland, how does she know?” Gaz asks Soap shrug, it didn't sound important to him but from the look on Gaz’s face said it all.
“Mr. Garrick,” the two sergeants froze and turned to see Priscilla standing there peeping her head in head feather raising in slight embarrassment. “Do we need to cancel flight training?”
“No!” Gaz shouts and walks closer to her. “Your mother.”
“yes?”
“Did she go to school?” asked a question with a smile.
“No… Why?”
“Well your mother knows things she shoulders like a diety—“
“Oh you mean Abraham’s fairytales? he likes to tell fairytales when we were little, you know? of a better time where we’re all equal, it helped most of us sleep.” Priscilla says fondly with a sweet smile on her lips.
Gaz sighs and Soap pats him on the shoulder, with a small reassuring look and smile, “See mate, you overthinking it.”
“Your mother where did she come from?”
“She came from South America and found most of us traveling up to North America and sailing over to Asia, then traveling to Switzerland.” Gaz nods and the two walk to the field with the little Harpies.
The press saw them, and the monster swarmed them, “What’s your view of the orphanage director?” The first reporter asks.
“She’s my mother—"
“So she cut off your wings?”
“No! She found me like this—“
“If given the opportunity would you go home?”
“This is my home!” Priscilla shouts her frustration begins to teetering on tears. Gaz spread his wings out blocking her from the cameras.
“Don’t bother the kid—“
“As a soldier in the monster military aviator wing, what’s your view of this almost dystopian utopia?” One Gargon asks her snakes hissing with delight and anticipation.
“I am weary but everything here so far looks good, and the orphanage director didn’t know we were coming or how long we are staying,” Gaz said in the most PR statement possible. Switzerland has one of the biggest armies, and it is wise not to attack its citizens and their politics. The media followed them, Priscilla couldn't stop looking over her shoulder, they were making her uncomfortable.
“What's your relationship with each other?” a reporter asks.
“I'm helping the younger harpies fly.”
The reporters mostly watched, occasionally they would speak to their camera, and it was easy to hear them.
“Most of these harpies are missing wings or mutilated. We suspect that the orphanage—”
“Shut up, pendejo!” One of the kids shouts at the reporters. “We all had these injuries before the orphanage.”
“It’s done by you monsters,” another girl snaps.
“Why do you defend this place?”
“It’s our home,” nearly everyone replies.
—-
The air of attrition on cordiality was fading, for every child was a surveillance camera all going back to Mother Maia. This was not lost on anyone, not the soldiers or the reporters.
The children slowly became guarded. Weary and secretive. It wasn’t lost on the task force that they were no longer welcomed there. The gargoyle creatures that usually only watch began to show themselves more often, the dragons were more active, and they were expanding their territory.
Both sides of the war were left with little progress made, and far more interest in the orphanages. The human side is more than the monster’s.
“Maia,” Abraham walks into the dimly lit office. She looks up, and the veil hangs up on her hat hook. Abraham nodded and sat down. “My old contacts have warned me that the monsters have decided to hack—”
“I understand” Mother Maia responded in a calm tone, “I’ll change a few things. The only thing they will get is the spending log, it’s best.” She smiles and begins to type away.
“There have been talk about monsters adopting—”
“I will not allow it,” Mother Maia looks up, “we both know the children who will be adopted will be sent into the military or worse eaten, I am no fool and neither than you.” Abraham smiles and nods before standing up, his wings doing a small stretch.
“I am glad we are on the same page,” Abraham said with a smile, Mother Maia only nodded and continued to work.
Abraham always knew humans were not equal to monsters in strength, but their intelligence is quite admirable. It’s been centuries since Abraham found a human he could view as equal, but another Maia was that human.
She was articulate and wise for someone who never had a true education. And yet with his simple guidance, she was able to keep her children.
“What about the new disease?” Abraham froze and sighed. Everyone knew at this point, even the humans.
“The Monster scientists have named it Cerebrum deterioration, or as the soldiers call it brain rot.” Abraham studied Mother Maia’s face, most humans couldn't hide their glee when disguising this topic, all except for Mother Maia.
“How pitiful, has it linked to the human resistance?” she sighs the scars across her face rippling with the slight movement of her face.
“No, the scientists said it was discovered rather than made.” Mother Maia nods and continues to write.
“Let's keep informed if a war breaks out this could affect this free state.” Mother Maia said sternly. Abraham agreed. “And when the vaccine is made, be sure to be one of the first to get it, you are a model.” Abraham laughs but nods.
“You are a strange one—”
“I am only being realistic Abraham, even though you've been a pacifist for a few hundred years, you still hold power.”
“Of course.”
I had a dream were König was carrying me through the post-apocalypse…
Writing for Nikto
I'm thinking about writing a sweet headcanon for him, idk his characteristic very well but got this cute idea.
Nikto Headcanons + Alter! Reader
This is my personal headcanon!
Forward: Also I do not have DID. Also DID does not make monsters! They are usually hurt individuals trying to survive!
——
In his doscripion he is said to have a dissociative disorder and in his voice lines used the term we, when referring to self.
Since we don’t know Nikto’s real name I’m gonna call the host Nikto for simplicity.
Nikto! alsway had DID, but as the Host of the system didn’t know that. He comes from an abusive household hold and the military was his escape. During his torture he discovered another Alter. You.
Alter! Reader has been there since six. You are an inhuman alter, an angel to be perceive (your a mix between archangel Michael and mother Mary). You are also ageless.
Alter! Reader is the primary protector and Primary caregiver.
Alter! Reader who was consider Nikto’s imaginary friend until you decided to go low key to keep him from looking crazy.
Alter! Reader who pulls Nikto from fronting after the first day of torture.
Nikto! Does not remember the torture, but was pretty upset to be disfigured and during his lowest moment you step in again.
Nikto! Thought you were a hallucination when he heard your voice in his head.
Alter! Reader explain who you are, what is going on.
Nikto! Is later diagnosed with DID, and was advice to leave the PMC lifestyle. But since Nikto is disfigured he knew he had no real future and chose to hide his disability and keep working.
Alter! Reader who tries to get him to quit but Nikto refuse.
Alter! reader begins to Co-front with him to the point Nikto begin to use we
Alter! Reader who has not tell Nikto they’re others for his safety
Nikto! who never really takes days off mainly to stay in control and force him to live in the moment and and not lose control over the body.
Nikto! who begins to rely on you as your a stable figure of his ideal protector (base off an all powerful angel and the only noncruel religious figure (Mary)) and brings him peace
I bet nikto purrs
*Scurries off back into the darkness
Oh for sure! But it’s actually not the Host but a little, specifically the youngest little alter, mostly bitching about being tired and not fronting. The first time Nikto “purred” it too everyone by suprise but no one said shit because this man is ✨unstable✨. But it's pretty funny because it's usually happens at random times.
One recruit ask what he did it. That recruit had two broken legs after word.
War Machine
Former teammate turn machine
War Machine! Reader who was once Gaz’s mentor and died yeas ago
War Machine! Reader reappeared killing hostages and giving Soap a gut wound
War Machine! Reader who works for the highest bitter aka Makarov
War Machine! Reader who broke free from the programming and attack Makarov’s forces and alerted 141
War Machine! Reader who meet one on one with Laswell telling her to leave her alone
War Machine! Reader who's being chanced by 141 for her crime
War Machine! Reader who Gaz found first and told War Machine! Reader to be put her hands up.
Gaz! who was shaking because this was his former Lieutenant who died standing right in front of him.
War Machine! Reader who turn around and gaze at him with eyes of no recognition.
War Machine! Reader who explain what happened and that they wish for a peaceful like away from war
Gaz! Who tazed them and knocked them out
141! Who waited for this machine human hybrid go wake up. They notice this person have autopsy scars across their chest
Gaz! Who feel conflict seeing their old Lt. In front of him
War Machine! Reader who wakes up seeing Ghost standing in front of them, gun at the ready
War Machine! Reader who was given a chance to either join them or be dissected and destroyed
Above the Ruins | Six
Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader
masterlist
In a world devastated by chaos and the threat of the undead, two destinies intertwine in an unexpected way. Ghost, a hardened ex-military man haunted by the horrors of war, encounters [reader], a lost and desolate young woman. With his experience and determination, Ghost decides to help her, and together they embark on a dangerous journey in search of a refugee center.
notes: English is not my first language, and I initially wrote this fanfic in Portuguese. With the help of online resources, I rewrote it in English.
Five - Seven
"We're at Alcântara Base…"
I heard a voice coming from the communication radio Soap had brought along with him, accompanied by the two men who seemed like kids who had just received the best gift of their lives…
"Is it just you two?"
"No. Ghost has a girl" Soap says, smiling as he looks at Ghost.
"That's great, guys! If possible, I'd like to speak with her…"
Descending the rest of the stairs, I approach the radio.
"Sir?"
"Please, no formalities… What's your name?"
"[name]"
"Alright. [name], you're with two of my best soldiers. I want you to trust them and yourself. The way here is compromised… lots of undead roaming around, but we're managing to keep the survivors safe."
"Are there many survivors?" Soap asks.
"About 2,000 here, but more keep coming. We're getting a higher number than expected. We're also in contact with other shelters and the numbers are looking good. I'm hopeful."
"That's great, Captain" Ghost compliments.
For the first time in years, I felt hopeful. Just a bit more and we'd be closer to some semblance of the life we had before.
I looked at Ghost, smiling in relief, and he seemed to reciprocate through his eyes.
✧˖°₊
"According to Price, the best route is through here," Ghost points to a spot on the map.
"Do we have enough ammunition?" Soap asks.
"I hope so… we don't have much choice. We have food, weapons, and water. We'll leave in two days. Rest as much as you can!" he orders.
I sat on a couch farther away, feeling useless at these times.
"What are you thinking?" Ghost approaches, asking as Soap heads upstairs to shower.
"To be honest, I'm scared and hopeful. It's hard to explain."
"I understand. It's been years of loneliness and confusion, hasn't it? And now it seems like everything is falling into place and that everything will be resolved," he says as I nestle into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and smelling his scent.
"I'm afraid of not making it to the shelter, of not being useful on the way, and putting us in danger."
"[name], don't worry so much. You were trained by the best, remember?" I feel his chest move with what sounds like a laugh.
"Smartass."
"But I'm serious. We'll make it, you'll see. Soap is a great soldier too, we'll protect you and help you if we think it's too much for you. But you were really good in training, you'll be a great help, you'll see."
"I hope so…" I sigh, snuggling even closer to his warmth.
After a while, we returned to the room, and Ghost went to shower. He returned without his mask and with wet hair.
He was arranging some things in the closet while I sat on the bed, admiring him. Ghost had a very masculine appearance. Sharp jawline, straight nose, and mouth with some scars. Not to romanticize what he went through, but they made him even more handsome.
"Why are you staring at me?"
"You're handsome."
"Do you think so?" he asked, laughing and lying down on top of me.
"Yes, I do," I laugh, kissing him.
"We'll get through this. You'll see," he said, giving me one last kiss and then pulling me into his embrace.
✧˖°₊
[Ghost]
I wake up and go downstairs to find Soap.
"Good morning, LT!"
"Good morning, Sergeant!"
"Is the girl still asleep?"
"Yes. She's worried, and to be honest, so am I."
Ghost rubs his hand on his covered face and sits down.
"I don't know what to do, Jhonny."
"Did you teach her how to shoot?" Soap asks, sitting next to the lieutenant while offering him soup.
"No. I didn't have many bullets."
"Look, I have an airsoft gun. I think I can teach her with it if you allow me. Of course," he chuckles sarcastically.
"Sure, Jhonny. You have my permission," Ghost says, laughing.
"I'll respect you and your girl, LT. Don't worry."
"I never expected anything less from you, Sergeant," Ghost said, joining in the banter. "Why do you have a toy gun?"
"I thought it might come in handy at some point. I was right," he said, laughing and grabbing the gun.
✧˖°₊
"It's not hard, miss. Just aim a bit higher than what you want…"
Then [name] shoots with the toy gun.
"Why isn't it hitting the target? I don't understand," I hear [name] say, and I laugh at her impatience.
"You're not keeping your hand steady. When you shoot, your hand moves out of position and misses the target. Keep your hand steadier."
"I see…" then she shoots again, closer to the target this time.
"Good job, miss!" Soap praises her as they high-five. "Now try shooting farther. This gun is a toy, but it simulates a real one quite well. Don't worry, it won't be much different."
Then she shoots and hits one of the cups farther away on the table, letting out an excited squeal.
"Did you see that, Ghost?" she asks, looking at me.
"You're doing great, pretty girl," I compliment, making her smile even bigger.
After a few shots, her aim was even better.
"I think you're ready, miss."
"Thank you for helping me, Soap. It means a lot to me," she says, giving Soap a friendly hug.
"No need to thank me, [name]," he says, returning the hug.
"Now, both of you need to rest. We'll leave the day after tomorrow, don't forget!" I interrupt, handing them the soup I heated while they were busy.
"Thank you, Ghost," Madison thanks, and Soap gives a thumbs-up, already devouring his food.
"I'll leave one of my guns with you, [name]. Only use it as a last resort. Let's try to use knives first," I say, making both of them nod.
"So, is the shelter far?" [name] asks, taking a generous spoonful of soup.
"About 5 days on foot, but it might take us longer. We'll find out…"
"Wouldn't it be better by car?" she asks.
"No doubt, but it's too risky to find a car around here."
"Yeah. You're right."
"Let's try not to dwell on the problems, guys," Jhonny interrupts. "Let's try to be… positive? Yeah, I think that's the word," he says thoughtfully, running his hand through his tousled hair. "I have a story to tell you, miss."
"Go ahead," she says, smiling.
"Well. Before all this craziness started, when we were still living our fucked-up lives, but not as fucked up as now," he says, making us laugh, "we liked to go to a bar after difficult missions. It was good for distraction. Our big guy here would attract the attention of pretty girls."
Jhonny spoke, laughing, and [nome] narrowed her eyes at me, making me laugh.
"Once, a tall brunette came over to try to get a piece of our LT, and he just stared at her. It was scary, and the poor girl was getting more embarrassed by the minute," he laughed loudly. "She looked around, scratched her neck, and Ghost looked at her as if he were seeing all her sins."
"It wasn't like that," I tried to defend myself.
"Of course it was, LT. I bet the girl never approached anyone after that," he continued laughing.
I looked at [nome], and she was laughing uncontrollably, twisting in a strange way. It was good to see them more at ease and with less worry.
"I just didn't want anything with her…"
"That's why you looked into that woman's soul?" Jhonny asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Then I'm special, Lieutenant," [nome] calling me by that name did things to me.
"You are. Believe me, miss. Who would've thought we'd need a damn zombie apocalypse for our old Ghost to find someone. Destiny is indeed strange."
"Shut up, Jhonny," I said, making them laugh.
"And you, miss? Tell us something about your life."
"Let me think… I was studying nursing when this happened. I was going into my second year."
"Wow. So you were very young when this happened, how old are you now?"
"I'm 23. I was 19 when it all started. Unfortunately, college didn't help me survive here, since I hadn't learned procedures yet."
"Do you plan to return to nursing when things get back to normal? Or at least close to normal?"
"Yes. Now, more than ever. All of this taught me that anything can happen, and we need to be prepared for everything."
✧˖°₊
[One day until the journey to the shelter]
We would leave tomorrow. Things were already packed. Spare clothes in [nome]'s backpack; extra weapons and ammunition with Jhonny; food, water, blankets, and first aid items with me. Each of us also had a silenced gun and ammunition.
It was already night, and we were all ready. We rested on the couches while going over the plans.
"We'll go this way," I pointed on the map. "Price said it's the best. We'll go in a line, me first, [nome] next, and Soap following."
"Okay," they nodded.
"We'll walk as far as possible and then take turns to stand guard while the others sleep. I'll take my turn and [nome]'s."
"What?" she exclaimed.
"It's safer this way."
"Ghost, I want to help too. I don't want to sleep while you two keep watch."
"Jhonny and I will take turns. We're used to getting by with little sleep. It'll be better this way."
"I want to be useful and help too, but it seems like you're taking everything away from me. When a damn zombie shows up, will you shoot for me too?"
"Ghost, the girl can take care of herself. Give her a chance," Soap interrupted me before I could retort what [nome] said, making me shoot him a glare.
"Alright, but I don't like this idea."
"I understand, Lieutenant. But the bird won't learn to fly if you don't give it freedom. Nothing will happen to her. As the captain said, she's not only with two of the best soldiers, but she's also trained by them," Soap said arrogantly, making us exchange fist bumps.
"Sure," I said sarcastically, watching [nome] thank them and both of them fist-bumping.
it's actually me im giggling art by aidenlydia!!
Q: redraw the picture if your character appeared in two (or more) parts of COD
blood stains and butterflies
includes: Soap, Ghost warnings: PTSD, panic attack, vomiting, gore length: 4,000 some words summary: Ghost isn't all too happy that Christmas showed up months early. A/N: uh... Boo. I'm alive! Anyways, new obsession time. Also, ik tumblr goes crazy with bots but where did they all swarm me from?? Enjoy though, and please give me feedback.
Ghost stumbles, nearly slipping in the pummeling rain. His gloved hand hardly catches traction on the slick side of their stupid fucking safe house that's spat up 30 miles past bum fuck nowhere.
The sky is as dark as the field that surrounds him, clouds hiding the moon away like it's something shameful.
I'm shameful, Ghost's brain spits as he gasps as quietly as he can. He can feel his throat closing up tight- too tight- tighter than anything he can handle.
Oh sure, because waterboarding and gasoline is nothing compared to stupid, god awful-
"Creepin' Jesus, L.t.-"
Ghost hardly has the wherewithal to yank his mask just over the bridge of his crooked, fucked up nose before he's spilling what little bit of lunch he ate before they were sent on this lousy mission.
"Ghost, what's goin' oan? Ye alright?"
Shut up. Shut the hell up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
He's dry heaving so much that something is stinging somewhere deep behind his eyes.
A hand, steady yet uncertain, touches his shoulder and Ghost feels flames licking at his skin, even through the ever persistent rain storm.
"Don't fucking touch me," he seethes, baring his teeth like a rabid animal, feet clumsily scrambling further away, leaving his arms to weakly try to compensate. The last thing he needs is to bust his ass on his own throw up.
Soap jerks his hand away like he is the one being burned. The rain is so loud, but not even shelling could drown out the sound of Soap's breath catching in his throat.
"I'm fine," Ghost rasps, sounding impossibly fragile even to his own ringing ears. "Go back inside before you get yourself sick, Soap."
"Sick like ye?"
Ghost is gagging on bile before he can spit fire back. Instead, he spits up the last of his pathetic lunch.
"I said I'm fine. They're just-" Christ, he's shaking so hard he might slip again- "fucking Christmas lights. Nothing's wrong with me."
If Ghost would stop being a little bitch for a second, he'd see the way Soap's eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion with a single blink.
"This is aboot th' holiday decor?" Soap asks desperately. Ghost can hear a puddle splash as Soap inches closer.
Ghost would rather be buried alive again than admit that he is having a breakdown over some lights speckled with blood. Hell, he'd rather gulp down gasoline than speak anything ever again.
Ghost screws his eyes shut in hopes of- of what? Hiding? He's such a shameless coward.
"L.t. please. What's goin' oan? I don't understand- what's wrong with th' lights?"
The door was kicked open, windows smashed in, and they were dead long before he jerked his car in park.
He wanted- needed- them to be alive so badly, so desperately, he skimmed over the fact that more of Joseph's brains were on the wall than in his skull for fuck's sake-
He's retching again, but tears are making his vision too blurry to see what he's hurling onto the muddied clump of grass beneath his feet. Rain, actually. The rain is making his vision blurry.
"Come back inside 'fore ye hurt yerself more. Please, Ghost." There is a noticeable hesitation and Ghost hopes Soap will just go back inside and leave him in shambles.
Soap doesn't go anywhere, but Ghost crumbles anyway from what he says.
"Ye're scarin' me…"
"You're scaring me! Tommy, stop it! Please- please stop!"
Tommy sneered behind the cracked skull mask, and Simon felt his lower bunk dip with his brother's weight. The pillow under his head was snatched from him.
"Don't ever beg anyone for anything, Simon. Hasn't dad taught you that?" The sneer bled into a sickening grin. "Here, let's practice."
His pillow was shoved over his face before he could even choke out the word 'no'.
Ghost loses his footing and falls to his knees, hands weakly grasping for any leverage on the side of the safe house. There isn't any. His left knee digs into the mud as he stumbles.
Soap, the persistent, heaven-sent bastard, is by his side before Ghost slips any further.
"I don't-" Soap hovers by Ghost like a lost dog, buzzing with confusion and concern. "A'll take it doon, Lt. A'll get rid of it all."
Ghost vaguely hears Soap's footsteps trailing off, the pummeling of the rain and the rushing in his ears nearly drowning it out. But then Soap stops and the footsteps rush back his way. Ghost shudders in the rain, in his thoughts, fingers weakly dragging against the dirt as he presses his back against the side of the shelter. Soap is so quiet that Ghost can almost pretend he isn't there.
But, fuck, he is. Standing right there, thinking God knows what, and Ghost's mask is still above his scarred, vomit-laced mouth-
Ghost drags his soaked sleeve over his mouth and chin so rough he feels a strap jerk against a scar. He grits his teeth and bares it and yanks his mask back over the rest of his face.
"Give me yer knives."
Ghost startles- fucking jumps out of his skin. He thought Soap was gone. Scratch that- he hoped Soap was gone.
Ghost slaps together the meanest glare he can muster. He's pathetic like this; a mess in the mud, his own vomit washing away in the rain next to him, being waterboarded by his mask.
Soap doesn't even flinch. Hell, he reaches his hand out, expectant.
"Ye might…" Soap takes a breath, his fingers curling into his palm just a little. "I don't want to come back oot 'ere to find that ye did something stupid to yerself."
"You think-" Ghost has to take a short breath, his voice shredded and raw and so god damn fragile. "You think that I'm-"
"I don't know what t' think," Soap rushes, sounding as desperate as Ghost hates to feel. "Just promise me ye won't."
Ghost screws his eyes shut, wondering if a promise like this only counts for the moment, or if he has to keep it for the rest of his miserable life.
"Am beggin' ye, Ghost."
"Did you beg them, Tommy? Did you?" Simon heard himself say as he stared at his brother's limp body dangling in a bloody mess of Christmas lights from the rafters. Fitting it was, that he suffocated. "Or did not have the chance to?"
"Simon-"
"Don't you- Don't fucking call me that," Ghost rasps.
Soap opens his mouth, desperate as a drowned man gasping for air, but Ghost beats him to it.
"I won't, fuck. I'm not bloody insane." Although he sure as hell felt that way.
Soap's jaw tightens, teeth clenching against each other as he draws his hand back. He is still hesitant to leave Ghost alone; alone with his thoughts and feelings. And knives.
"I won't," Ghost breathes quietly, Adam's apple bobbing as he gathers what little pieces of him were left. "I wouldn't, Soap."
Soap nods, gaze lingering as he turns his body away towards the shelter. "A'll kill ye, if ye do."
Ghost chuckles, heartless and hurt and so pitifully wrapped in his head. What a perfect way to go, that would be. That's the only way he can see himself dying, being taken out by Soap. Ghost wonders how he would do it.
Soap hasn't moved.
"I promise, Johnny."
That seems to do the trick because seconds later, Soap is taking off through the rain and heading inside the house.
Ghost is, blessedly, devastatingly, alone. But he's left with his thoughts. And they begin to wander before he beats them down.
The whole fucking shelter is done up with Christmas decorations, and it makes him wonder how many layers of dust are on every light and ornament. It makes him wonder what happened to the people who strung them up.
He doesn't wonder, however, how the blood splatters got there.
It's not even near the holiday season, either, which really pisses him off because it's just his luck. He thought he'd be safe from his holiday horrors, months away from Christmas. Of course the world slams a curveball right in his face and spits on him while he's down.
He doesn't notice that his hands are gripping at the top of his mask. They would be tugging on his hair, but he's a spineless, faceless coward. No wonder everyone thought Tom was the better brother. They were fucking right to, weren't they?
Christ, they're all he can see. Tom, hanging from the rafters by the Christmas tree lights, his throat a mangled mess. Beth, a crumpled mop of blinding white ribs and heavy dark blood, her Santa hat mostly red and somewhere underneath what was left of her. His mom, stabbed in the neck, blood soaking into her newest ugly sweater she was so proud of. Joseph's head and reindeer antlers headband was blown off with a bullet, his blood and brains and matter covering the various paint splotches on the wall where Tom and Beth couldn't decide on a new color.
Joseph's toy airplane kicked to the side, forgotten white wings stained with pieces of the boy.
He wanted to be a pilot when he grew up, Joseph did. He used to make Simon hold him above his head so he could stick his little arms out real far like they were wings on a plane. Simon would carry him all around the house; pretended to be the panicked control tower, telling pilot Joseph that he couldn't use the runway- the hallway- because there were fallen trees- a broom and a mop- blocking his path. Pilot Joseph was always a quick thinker, and he would land his plane further down the way, on an empty back road- the couch. And Simon would toss his beaming nephew on the ratty old brown couch and listen to his giggles as he shouted, "Again, Uncle Simon! Again!"
God, the pure joy on the kids face whenever Simon bought him that little toy plane for Christmas one year was burning at the back of his brain. Fucks sake, all Simon could afford at the time was a little figurine. It wasn't remote controlled, no doors could open- hell, the propeller couldn't even spin. But Joseph loved it more than anything in the world.
The sound of glass shattering behind the shelter has Ghost choking on his breath.
Simon would've killed to have been deaf when he took Tom down from the rafters. Glass shattered, body thumped, glass shattered, glass shattered, glass-
Bile scorches the back of his throat as his memory supplies the imagine of blood splattered Christmas ornaments. He tumbles forwards onto his hands and knees, frantically tugging his mask above his lips again. One hand claws at the dirt, the other, supported by his elbow in the mud, holding the bottom part of his mask out of the way as he retches and dry heaves until he swears he could be spitting up blood.
Ghost curls in on himself and falls to his side, a deflated, crumpled heap of shame.
It's all his fault. It is. If he had gotten there sooner, if he had seen it all coming, if he had never gotten compromised, if he had never joined the fucking military- none of it would have happend. It's his fault, all his fault.
"My fault," he heaves, blurry eyes boring into where the dark, starless sky seamlessly bleeds into the black, rocky mud. He's drowning in the stifling nothingness.
Tom could be coming home from work, kissing Beth hello, playing 'pilot' with Joseph. But he's not. He's a rotted corpse six-feet under the dirt. That's how Simon should be. It's his fault that it didn't turn out that way. His fault, all his fault.
"I'm sorry," he breaks, shaking his head, bringing his muddy glove to his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead. The other half hides, burying into the ground, like he could dig his own grave like this.
Joseph would've been in high school by now, driving and going to meet friends. But he's not. He's stuck in a wooden box next to his parents. That's how Simon should be. It's his fault-
"Please-"
"Ghost?"
Ghost's eye snap open, body tense and frozen. He vaguely notices that he's hyperventilating. Christ alive, he's breathing so fast but he can't get any air. He can't breathe, no matter how hard he tries. He might as well be buried alive again-
"…-ost, look at me. I need ye to look at me Lt."
Ghost's blood shot eyes snap in Soap's direction- when was he sat up against the shack's wall?- and his breath hitches somewhere deep in his throat before he feels his heart pitter faster. It's trying to break out of his ribcage, slamming into his cracking bones, threatening to bleed openly into Soap's hands. Soap has such nice hands. He'd hate to soil them.
"Where are we reit now?' Soap asks, carefully crouching in front of him, both hands resting open palm facing up on his knees.
Ghost feels his eyebrows furrow at that one. Has Soap forgotten? Your location seems like an awfully important thing to know.
"Ghost, I need ye to tell me where we are," Soap insists, the tendons in his neck pulled so taunt. Ghost worries. He worries that Soap will hurt his neck, straining how he is.
"Manchester?" he murmurs so low that he can feel how his vocal cords vibrate with it. Soap's neck pulls over his Adam's apple as it bobs rough. Ghost wonders what it would take to snap the stretched tendons there. Ghost thinks he'll kill anything that dares to graze them.
"Nae. Nae, Ghost. Look around. Look around ye an' then tell me where we are."
Ghost's eyes carefully draw away from Soap's vulnerable, tense throat, and move to meet his gaze. Soap is scared, he realizes slowly, the thought dawning on him as slow as the sun rises. Ghost furrows his eyebrows, a frown tugs his lips down at the side. Hesitantly, his eyes drift to the trees surrounding him. He can hardly pick up anything distinctive through the rain, but he feels his eyes widen.
"We're at a safe house. But- but then I-"
"That's reit, Ghost. We're on a mission waitin' for exfil. Do ye remember what our mission was?" Soap speaks like a kindergarten teacher. One who wears long, gray skirts and a yellow button-up blouse, has the thinnest heels on her black shoes, and always has her hair done up in a relaxed bun. Ghost vaguely remembers hating his kindergarten classes; he could never focus. Ghost thinks he would hang on every word if Soap was his teacher. "Stay with me, Ghost," Mr. Soap snaps his fingers once or twice, the sound dancing away through the rain.
"Gather intel on the terrorists' bio-weapons… Destroy the sample. Get out with no one the wiser." Ghost holds his breath for praise, for Soap to tell him he's right. Tell him thats he's not a fuck up, not weak or stupid or not masculine enough. To tell him that maybe, he deserved everything that happened to him
"Yeah, that's right. There ye go, Ghost." Soap's lips twist into a pitiful, beautiful thin-lipped smile. "Thought I lost ye for good there, L.T."
"Never," Ghost rasps before he can shut his big fat mouth.
Soaps lips quirk up more at that, and Ghost has half the mind to get on his knees and ask for repentance. Acceptance, even.
"Are ye alright to come inside?" Soap asks carefully, words treading carefully like Ghost was a minefield.
Sometimes he feels that way, if he were ever honest with himself. He feels like a wired ticking time bomb, bound to explode at the smallest of missteps.
Well, Soap just happens to be a demolition expert, doesn't he?
"Ghost? Did ye hear me?"
Ghost feels himself blink, and when he opens his eyes, he can only look at Soap's lips.
It's unfair, really, how it all slams into him at once, after everything.
He thinks about it. He thinks about it so vividly that he can almost feeling his rough lips against Soap's, feel his clean shaven jaw rub against Soap's stubble.
He takes a shuddering breath when the thought of betrayal and blood and Christmas lights flood his mind.
He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve Soap's lips or stubble or- hell- his being. He isn't good enough.
Besides, it'll only get Soap killed faster. More brutal. They'd make Ghost watch, too. He couldn't shoulder that.
Ghost startles slightly when Soap's gloved hand waves in front of his eyes once or twice.
"Don't get in yer heid. Stay with me, L.T."
Ghost feels his lips tremble. Soap always knows his tells.
" 'm sorry, Johnny," Simon murmurs, blinking against the shine in Soap's eyes.
Soap softens at that, concerned frown morphing into a lopsided grin that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"No need to apologize, Ghost. Ain't yer fault," Soap hums.
Ghost grunts at that, and if it was in acceptance or disagreement, Soap could only hope to flip a coin.
Soap takes off one of his gloves, his pale skin free from the inky, filthy glove. He holds this hand out like an offering, palm up and fingers outstretched, inches away from Ghost's chest.
"Ready to dry off, L.T? I mean, we could keep showerin' out here if ye want to, but…" Soap trails off, eyes following the dark, angry clouds moving in from the west.
Soap has the bluest eyes. Like Scorpion grasses. Those invasive beautiful bastards spread like wildfire in his mother's dingy little garden one year and she could never get rid of them. Hell, she made the whole damn garden full of Scorpion grass.
Ghost leans his head closer- ever so minutely- to get a closer look at Soap's eyes.
Yeah. Soap's exactly like Scorpion grass.
He's certainly invasive. Ghost didn't want him at first, but he kept coming back. Over and over and over again. And, well, Ghost certainly can't stand to get rid of him now. Soap calms his jumpy fucking nerves too, just like the flowers. He smoothes out Ghost's worries like it's as easy as spreading melted butter on toast.
Forget-me-nots.
That's right- they're also called forget-me-nots.
Ghost couldn't forget Soap for anything. He'd know him anywhere, anywhere at all. On earth, in hell, somewhere in the gray in between. Ghost could be blind and deaf, yet still know Soap if the man was near him.
Scorpion grass might just be his favorite flower if he allows himself that much.
"…Ghost? Ye alright?"
Ghost blinks, ripping his gaze away from the vast ocean he almost drowned in. With another, deliberate, blink, he realizes Soap is blushing. Pink dusts over his cheeks, his eyes struggling to hold their place on Ghost.
"Somethin' on my face?" Soap chuckles, the sound high and tense.
Ghost swallows, breath catching in his throat so suddenly his mouth dries up. He tugs his mask all the way down again, and fixes it firmly in place.
None of it matters anyway. Not a single bit of it. Not the way Soap looks at him like he's the most important thing in the room, not the way his face heats up when Soap punches his shoulder before they load out on a mission, and definitely not the way his heart pitter-patters oh-so quickly when Soap smiles at him when he says a stupid, corny joke.
None of that matters because the Scorpion grass in his dead mother's garden flopped over and went to hell when Ghost tried to care for them after she was gone, and so will Soap.
"Get out of yer head, Ghost."
Ghost flinches his head back, the sternness in Soap's tone sending him reeling.
"I'm was not-"
"Ye were. Ye had that 1,000-yard-stare glossed over yer eyes," Soap squints at him.
"I always have that stare, Soap. It's part of the fucking job," Ghost bites back.
"Sure, but when ye're out of it, it looks different."
"It does not-"
"Yes, it bloody does!" Soap sneers, the genuine anger in his face catching Ghost off guard. Ghost watches Soap as he sucks in a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his jaw, before swallowing behind the perfect columns in his neck. "It does. And I am sick and tired of losin' ye to yerself."
Ghost looks at him, really looks at him for any sign of- hell, he doesn't fucking know anymore. Resentment, maybe? Soap has every right to hate him.
Soap sighs, running his ungloved hand through his hair. His shoulders seem so weighted. Ghost wants to hold it all for him; carry everything even if the weight of it all breaks his bones twice over.
"Let's get inside, L.T." Soap reaches out his hand again, stronger this time and no longer shaking. "Before the rain makes ye more sick. We're both soaked to the bone and the fuckin' shack doesn't have any heating. Nothing 'sides a little fireplace. Hope ye don't mind strippin' down to yer tighty-whities near me."
It kills Ghost. It kills him that Soap doesn't speak a word of Ghost's several outbursts and breakdowns that have happened in the span of… of- Christ above, what time is it? How long has he been smothered in his head over Christmas lights?
Ghost takes a weary breath before he fully gets 'lost in his head' again.
The look of relief that breaks across Soap's face when Ghost strongly grasps his hand is enough to make the man's knees weak.
"Can't wait to see your Hello Kitty briefs again, Johnny," Ghost deadpans as Soap pulls them both to their feet. He knows Soap sees the way he sways with the rain, the way he uses the wall for support- Ghost can see it in his eyes. He's thankful, graciously thankful, when Soap doesn't mention it.
"That was one bloody time. Was Gaz's fault anyway," Soap grumbles, still holding Ghost's hand in his as he leads them inside.
As Ghost tentatively steps into the safehouse again, he realizes that Soap is a saint. Even though he's technically a mass murder, his sins are washed away with the simple act of rearranging a small shack.
Everything remotely Christmas themed is out of sight. No ornaments, no tree, no stockings, no snowmen, no Santas, no paper snowflakes- and not one single Christmas light. Ghost feels his face warm up a stupid amount as he tracks his eyes over the firepit.
The blood is gone.
Soap cleaned the fucking blood.
Ghost whips his head around, and in a rare moment- one of many so far tonight- his mouth is open without a sound coming out.
He wants to say something, really he does, but what can he say when Soap is busying himself with acting as if nothing has changed. As if this is the first time they've walked into the dump.
As if he isn't making a vile, almost forgotten feeling crescendo up in the empty void behind Ghost's sternum.
"Let's raid the place, yeah?" Soap says, looking over the layout. "There's the kitchen, living room, and bedroom. Though, that's fucking generous to call it that, eh?"
Soap is right; the living room and kitchen combined couldn't be more than 12 feet across and 10 feet wide. The bedroom is more of a closet with a pile of blankets against the wall. But, still, the kitchen has cabinets and the living room has a fireplace… that hopefully works.
"You search the kitchen, I'll see if the pit is functional," Ghost murmurs, ignoring how the words grate against his raw throat. Away from the rain, the chill of his soaked clothes is settling on his skin. He's ready to get warm and sleep away the pounding in his head.
"Copy that, L.T." Soap beams, sparing one brief glance before turning on his heels to ramble through the cabinets.
"And Johnny?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Johnny gives a lopsided smile that makes his eyes shine. "Of course, Simon."