#cod lore

[cerosin-bis]

might I ask for a handful of just random cod trivia ..

and/or ! just your thoughts on the games and reboots, if you’re comfy w that?

I feel like you always have some random notes or tags about weird trivia in the game but obviously this isn’t specific At All so feel free to just ignore this if it’s weird sjdndjhd

Hi! no this isn't weird 🥺 I think what gives this impression is "just" that I played most of said games a lot and got interested in the lore that's not necessarily accessible to people who, big quotation marks, are superficially in the fandom. as in people who aren't interested in multiplayer or secondary gamemodes, let alone lore and are more focused on the main cast or one particular mp character (such as könig)

This got VERY long so, my rambles and opinions about the Modern Warfare games and their reboots below.

I played mw2 and mw3's campaigns in 2010-2013. I wasn't playing multiplayer at the time, I started it with BO4 in 2018. But I fell hard into MW's multiplayer with the first reboot, mw19, in early 2020.

Just so that my words have a bit of "the player's weight": I have around 900 hours on mw19, 400 on MWII and I believe 200-300 on MWIII.

Regarding campaigns: Call of duty is Call of duty. It's literally funded by the US army. it's blatant propaganda, and I expect no less when I run a campaign. With that being said, what I expect from a CoD campaign is either being over-the-top and extra (like the original trilogy and in some ways MWIII specifically), or rooted in reality and wanna be serious like mw19. This is minding the blatant history 'rewriting' it's doing (eg. chemical attacks in syria, highway of death mission). My honest opinion on it is that the reboots don't know what they want and it's especially visible in MWII. In my opinion, the original games nailed that "american action movie" feel that the reboots kinda lost by instead veering towards something overlapping with real-life maybe a bit too much while still wanting to include crazy shit. Like, I don't think it's a balance that can work. I do like that we had more character development with MWII and it felt fun to play (in that regard I have no complaints, and I even liked the semi-open missions that a lot of ppl disliked), but it feels a bit less like call of duty. I'll be curious to see what direction they take for the next MW game, but I sure hope IW get their shit together and have a clear direction.

Transitioning to multiplayer with that. This feeling that the MW games are now an amalgamation of things sewn together hastily started with the Warzone fusion and the BOCW implementation. It became especially visible in multiplayer with the addition of crossover bundles, providing less and less "mil-sim" skins, and it was obvious that by MWIII IW would step away and let other developers (treyarch, SHG, which are both turned more towards arcade gameplay) take over the multiplayer development. Which is kinda insane: MW was always Infinity Ward's flasgship initially.

In my opinion the MW multiplayer started feeling different (in my eyes, falling off) for 3 reasons:

Catering to a younger playerbase, notably the "tiktok crowd": younger gamers want games that are incredibly fast-paced (mirroring their use of social media and those yknow "adhd videos") and like extremely flashy skins. Therefore, they'll spend money to get them. I'm not saying this to say "it's bad!" it's just an observation

The absolute success of mobile games and fortnite-like collaborations. This is mostly due to the current way people "consume" social media and games, with everything being quick and instant and fleeting. The sheer impact that these two things have had on video games as a whole is absolutely insane: they started adding microtransactions in games because it started on mobile & they realised that if you let people buy skins with real money w the press of a button, spendings increase tenfold. Same goes with the battle pass model: it's incredibly lucrative.

Crunch, changes of leadership, writers and artists probably being allowed less communication and therefore focus; and, in MWIII's case, the arrival of AI giving us some tasteless slop in cosmetics. That they sell. For real money.

I've said it countless time but I really regret mw19 multiplayer's artistic and narrative direction. It had a story that's completely absent from MWII where characters are just empty shells with a few lines of marvel-like, mary-sue grade bios. Where's the cohesive story? Where are the outwardly morally grey or flawed characters, the sub-squads, the interaction lines, the bundles that made sense with the characters' backstories?...

Long story short, I don't know if the MW series will ever go back to what made it MW. I hope so, but seeing how between 2020 and 2024 the multiplayer entirely lost its soul & the campaigns don't know what they want to show, I'm afraid it might either never come back or take a dozen years so that a reboot of reboots gets out or a new series takes over.

'til capitalism and cashgrab leadership ruins it again and the cycle begins anew.

[callofdutylorist]

heyyy! not sure if yous aware but on yt there are some ppl making stuff up that ghost and soap have girlfriends in some comics and what not, also that ghost was implying in campaign how he sleeps around????? is this true or people are just talking nonsense? im not too familiar with ghost so idk

I have heard... So let's clear things up

Does Ghost have a GF in the comics?

Nope! Ghost is portrayed with no love interests in the comics. However the comics does show Ghost's brother finding a wife, and having a child who would be Ghost's nephew.

It's important to the comic because Ghost helped his brother become clean from drugs, and sees his brother's family as his closer household.

All of them later die

Youtube Misinformation

There were some incidents of a people spreading some Ghost misinformation on youtube, especially in comment sections. Most of this has been about Ghost's relationship status.

For those saying Ghost as of 24/9/2023 has girlfriend, are incorrect. He is single, with no confirmed sexuality. I believe this info is mostly being spread as retaliation of homophobes in the community, being offended by fandom shipping.

Confirmation of Single

Aside from the fact that not once in the campaign does anyone mention that Ghost is taken, and that his backstory contributes to a big reason why a man like him wouldn't have any lovers as of right now....

Ghost is confirmed single by an article uploaded by Activision on valentine's day. Also as a loner type character with trust issues, a preference of no support, and a specialty in solo missions, it's expectant that he's not a lovers boy to someone yet.

Ela Memes?

One thing I did find was that there seems to be a current crossover ship meme shipping Ghost with the character Ela Bosak from Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six Siege, and having both take the roles of resident evil characters. The main producer on Youtube for this stuff is Benjamin York Gaming if you're interested in funny crossover ship content.

Cod Mobile

Call of Duty Mobile does exhibit its own version of Ghost. Who is out of character for the multiple Ghost characters we know, showing to be much much closer to other characters he interacts with. But Cod Mobile is non-canon to the main series, and is it's own thing.

I hope this clears everything up

:D

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART ELEVEN

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of death, angst, lore!!!, a bit of realizing feelings masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

The mystery man was petrifying, what with his grimy smile and darkened eyes burning with a thousand fires that longed for fear and destruction. The mere sight of him had your body freezing, stopping you from walking with Ghost.

Ghost was quick to notice. He paused his steps, halfway turning to you. He took in the sight of you, stiff and paralyzed, before shifting his focus to the cause.

You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. You felt trapped. Under a spell. Even as the man was beginning to disappear into the bustle of people, the smile never vanishing from his face, you were captivated, yet in the most sickening way.

“Dove,” Ghost called out. His voice was rough, and perhaps a bit frantic. “Let’s go.”

Just as you were able to turn your attention back to Ghost, his hand snatched up your arm, pulling you along the curvy paths. His pace was hard to keep up with, and you stumbled for your footing several times, yet he didn’t seem to care.

He had hatred practically oozing out of him like poison. It fermented the air, souring your nose with a sickly pit forming in your stomach.

“Ghost,” you tried. “Ghost, who—goodness, will you slow down? Who was that?”

Ghost paid you no mind. He was blatantly ignoring you, but for what? That man with the wicked smile… did Ghost know him?

Dust kicked up at your feet as your sped walked along his side. His grip never faltered, only tightening every time a shopper passed by too close to you. The muscles in your arm throb, and you could feel the blood pumping.

“Ghost,” you pleaded. Ghost merely glanced at you from the corner of his eye before shaking his head and resuming focus on his mission.

You didn’t know where the two of you were going, or why he was so put-off, but it made sense once you began to approach the clearing where you and the crew split to do your individual purchases.

You were heading back to the ship. The sun wasn’t quite sitting along the horizon, so you weren’t even sure the others had returned.

Something twisted within you, like a knot tightening. That sickly feeling only grew the closer you got to the ship.

Something was terribly wrong. As always, you were left in the dark.

“Up,” Ghost ordered, hands cupped together and lowered to your level. You stared at him as if he’s grown two heads. He grew impatient rather quickly. “I said up, damn it, don’t you listen?”

The plank to walk up to the deck hadn’t been lowered, and that was all because Ghost hadn’t taken the time to do it. He seemed to deem it unnecessary, as now he was attempting to haul you up on to the deck himself.

Reluctantly, you placed a foot into his hands. He immediately grabbed hold, hoisting you with a firm grip on both your foot and calf. You clumsily clawed on to the upper deck of the ship, pulling yourself into standing position on wobbly knees.

Ghost was quick to join, not even breaking a sweat as he grasped the sides of the deck and joined you, only letting out an annoyed grunt as his form of struggle.

"Get into Price's quarters," he commanded, lightly giving a shove to your shoulder to beckon you to the Captain's doors.

His body was stiff, standing monstrous and frightening over you. The only other time you'd seem him so coiled up was when him and the others slaughtered your town, when he appeared from the shadows like the boogeyman and sucked up all the souls of the village.

When you looked into his eyes, they were as pitch black as the night. You could hardly see the whites in them from how much anger pooled over.

This wasn't the man who had slowly but surely made attempts to open up in his own way.

Opening up is an overreaction, but it was his way.

Slow and steady.

Now, he was back to his former shell, the one you feared meeting again since the very first day you met.

You were quick to scramble to Price's quarters, slamming the door behind you. The air was eerily quiet now that you were alone, and it prick your ears like an aggravating fly buzzing at your head.

Fear crept inside of you like an incoming storm.

To see Ghost so serious when the past few interactions, he's been rather pleasant was worrying. He didn't answer your questions, nor did he seem to want to acknowledge them.

You knew it had to do with the man you saw. All mighty and erotic, with the smile of a demon. It'd be something that would surely haunt you in your nightmares.

Something about him was odd. You couldn't pinpoint it. It wasn't only the creepiness he exuded, but rather the way he appeared. Out of thin air, like a ghost. And he spoke to you.

I'll be seeing you, dove.

Your blood ran cold as you played back his voice, over and over. Taunting. Mocking. Yet, hypnotizing.

What was a boisterous day with you leaving the ship and becoming apart of the people of normalcy was stripped from you once again.

The only thing that broke the deafening silence was the distinct sound of a bell, the piercing ringing traveling through the cracks in the wood and filling the air around you.

It was Ghost. And he was alerting the Captain that something truly was terribly wrong.

For a while, it was radio silence. Ghost remained outside, while you stayed locked into Price’s quarters, forced to remain trapped in your mind, sifting through what could possibly be happening.

You tried to connect dots. It was clear to you the man you saw wasn’t of the normal crowd. He was an oddity, something that stuck out yet wanted to be hidden.

Ghost knew him. His instinct reaction was to flee, bringing you in the mess. Sure, the man was unsettling, but what about him had Ghost of all people running?

Or perhaps he fled because he wanted to protect you. Even thinking of that scenario filled you with doubt, because it didn’t seem like a him thing to do, but you couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d drag you along the way he did. Frantic, and angry.

It didn’t matter how confusing the bigger picture was. Ghost had a well enough reaction for you to assume that whoever you saw was dangerous.

You wanted to rip your hair out from how little you knew. The Captain held you back from finding out, yet now, it felt important to know more than ever.

Damn him.

Damn this ship.

Damn being left in the dark.

It was unfair. You feared for your life. And worst of all, you feared for their lives as well.

You wondered if they felt the same. As ridiculous as the feeling was, in this time of terror and uncertainty, you wondered if things were to go down, if you were to fall trap into something you’re not supposed to, if they would care enough to pull you out themselves.

Stupid.

Just as you got too wrapped up in your own negativity, you heard voices outside the door. Familiar ones, and they sounded serious.

Between the cracks of the wood and the little soundproof the walls offered, you could faintly hear it.

“It was Graves. I swear it, Cap.”

Ghost. His voice was no longer littered with shock and panic. It was lower, laced with venomous anger.

Graves? You’d never heard that name before, and you could only assume it was the man you saw before. The name was rather fitting. Riddled with something ominous.

The door to the quarters barged open, slamming against the wall. In front stood the Captain, hand still firmly pressed to the door, eyes quickly darting around the room until they landed on you.

“Dove,” Price breathed.

He hurried up to you before you could give it a second thought. His hands grasped everywhere he could, pulling your arms straight out to inspect them, rough fingertips running along your skin. Then they moved to your neck, tilting your head side to side.

His eyebrows were knitted together with concern as well as concentration. But his eyes spoke for themselves. Enraged, just as Ghost. Burning embers broiling into a forest fire.

“Are ye okay, dove?” Soap asked. When you looked at him, he was standing cautiously behind the Captain, eyes flickering over your exposed skin as Price studied it.

“Yes?” you replied, unsure. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Price paused, glancing up at you. He seemed to realize something before dropping your arms, letting them fall back to your side.

“Price?” you asked. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“It’s nothin’,” he grunted, looking away. He stepped away from you, clearing his throat. “We heard the bell. Thought somethin’ happened—”

“No,” you cut him off firmly. You were growing tired of the games, tired of the tiptoeing. Even now, when they thought you were in danger, or even hurt, Price was actively trying to avoid telling you the truth. “There’s more. You’re lying to me again.”

“Dove—” Price attempted.

“Who is Graves?” you ordered. “I saw him. Earlier, in the town. He whispered to me. Who is he, Price?”

Soap and Gaz shared a look of concern before glancing over at Ghost. Ghost shifted uncomfortably, avoiding their gazes.

You hated this. You knew something was wrong, and all of it ended back to Ghost. It was him, wasn’t it? He was the one causing this distress without realizing. He was the one being distressed.

“You asked if I would trust you, and I agreed,” you continued, staring down the Captain. He was stiff, unsure of his next move. His eyes bore into you. “But you are toying with me and I will have it no longer. This is not trust. If you do not tell me what’s been going on, I will leave the ship and you will never see me again. None of you will stop me.”

Your words seemed to hurt the people you weren’t intending on hurting.

Soap’s eyes told you everything you needed to know, brimming over with surprise from your boldness and an aching sadness from your reality.

Gaz was glaring daggers into the back of the Captain’s head, more frustrated than upset.

“Just tell her, will you?” Gaz said coldly. “You’re playin’ hopscotch with her feelings. Both of you. She deserves to know.”

Your eyes flickered over to Ghost, who winced at the comment. He was just as fault for hiding the truth as Price was. All of them were. But at least Gaz was sticking up for you in the end of it.

“That’s Ghost’s decision,” Price grumbled, scowling.

“Bullshit,” Gaz retorted. “It stopped bein’ his decision when we became a crew. She’s apart of it now, whether any of us wanted that or not. For God’s sake, tell her.”

“And risk puttin’ her in danger? You want that?” Price hissed, anger bubbling more rapidly.

Gaz sneered at Price, matching his emotions. He stepped up to him, pressing an accusing finger into the Captain’s chest. “She saw him. He spoke to her. That’s enough to assume she already is.”

“Danger?” you asked. The two of them whipped their heads in your direction, realizing their mistake.

Your fear from before returned tenfold. Your life seemed like it was bound to an unbreakable contract of deception and betrayal.

“What did he tell ye, dove?” Soap asked, breaking the tense silence that filled the air. “Word for word.”

You wrung your hands together anxiously, picking at the skin around your nails. All men held a different form of expression in their eyes, yet they all held their breath all the same.

“He said he’d be seeing me,” you explained, a tight knot in your throat. “He didn’t exactly… tell me, I mean, I was with Ghost the whole time. It was more like a whisper. From afar.”

The looks on their faces had you wanting to coil back into your skin. It was looks of perplexity, of realization, of worry. You had nothing to be worried about, right?

“What the hell does he mean by that?” Ghost roared, the tension in the room thickening. He seemed visibly angry, even under his mask. His body language was surely enough to read. “What, he’s goin’ after her now?”

“What?” you breathed, hands becoming clammy. “Who?”

“Graves, damn it,” Ghost hissed, shoulders tightening. His voice was rough, spitting out pure venom. “The black blood? The mask? The skulls? All him, dove.”

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. Your head felt like it was going to explode. They were explaining, but not getting anywhere with it. None of it made sense.

“He’s Ghost’s old captain before he found Price,” Soap explained, a sadness to his tone. His expression was solemn as he looked at Ghost. “He has Ghost on a leash. Even now.”

“A leash,” Ghost laughed mockingly, sharp and bitter. “That fuckin’ traitor has me marked. That’s worse than a damn leash.”

Soap winced, appearing guilty for even mentioning it. Yet, Ghost was so occupied in his own misfortunes that he failed to notice.

You stared at Ghost while he spoke. The skull mask stood steady on his face, hiding how he truly felt beneath. His eyes were a world of hurt, giving you the only gateway into his mind.

You weren’t sure what marked had to do with him, but judging from old tales you’d heard as a kid, you knew it wasn’t good.

He was a target. Whoever Graves was, his old captain, he had a vendetta against Ghost. Now that the old can of worms was opened, part of you wanted to shut it back up.

This is what you asked for. You wanted open honesty. You just didn’t know that learning about the very men who changed your life for better and worse would hurt so dearly.

“Marked?” you asked. The skull ring on his finger glinted tauntingly at you. “What do you mean, marked? How does that explain anything?”

Ghost went silent, as did the men beside him.

Price, calmer now and looking much more defeated than anything, gave you a sad smile. “He has the marking for the curse of death, dove,” he said quietly. “We can only hope that you don’t, too.”

a/n: a bit shorter than i’d like, but i have some things going on. i hope you enjoyed regardless and as always i’d love to hear your theories!!!

[pricetagged]

raft of the leucothea

A little Kyle piece for the Gaz lovers 💖 to tide you over while I work on the Nikolai and the Price stuff.

Shipwrecked. Washed ashore, injured and sick, and thankfully not alone. A man called Kyle Garrick has washed ashore with you.

No big warnings, just some ever-so-slight dubcon naked cuddling (for survival!).

----------

The harsh, salty spray stung your cracked cheeks. Like clay left to bake in the sun, you felt the cracking and peeling of stinging flesh. But you felt it, that was the important thing.

Sunshine seared through your eyelids, a high noon wake-up call. Glowing ember-red, turning the sands to hot coal beneath you. You only had a second to process it before you rolled over, cramping muscles seizing in a paroxysm of a crawl as you hacked and coughed briny, burning seawater.

Alive then.

You were scared to open your eyes. You could pretend that they were crusted shut, sand and grit and god only knows what flaking over. Irritating, painful. A conjunctivitis of caustic circumstance. If you opened your eyes, it was real.

No, it was better as you were. A temporary balm to a blistering scald. Eyes-wide-shut, blind to the horrible damp marl and putrid air burning through your smarting nostrils. Sea life and smoke; pungent enough to turn your stomach once more.

You moaned as you collapsed on the shore, skin-fever hot and itching. Grit and shell-shards dug in, piercing your sensitive flesh. Clinging, burrowing. Discomfiting. Like the discordant memories swimming to the surface, all driftwood and screams and kicking, aching feet.  

There was no more screaming.

The waves lapped at the shore, a gentle balmy breeze carrying the soft sloshing of surf. Hazy popping and crackling accompanied it, a paradisiac white noise that scrambled your sluggish thoughts. Your eyes fluttered open. Temporarily blind from solar glare, you blinked moisture back. Tried to, at least. You were parched, eyes-dry and throat drier.

Perhaps you expected to see devastation. Destruction. Flotsam and jetsam and bodies strewn along the beach. There was a fire, yes, but it was not from the casket of the ship. Debris visible, but neat. Collected and organized into tidy little piles by a great smoking fire. Through the heat-haze of the flames, you spotted a flash of green: fresh leaves. Gaseous white billowed up; perfect for maximum visibility.

"Ah, you're awake." A shadow fell over you, gentle hands supporting your back until you were somewhat upright. "Here, you'll need this."

You grimaced as your cracked lips crinkled around the fruit, harsh little fibres stabbing in. But the relief–

Light, nutty, refreshing. You guzzled it down, big greedy slurps as your hands raised to cup it closer, throat constricting as you lost your breath–

"Hey, hey, slow down," the stranger spoke, easily plucking the coconut from your shaky fingers. "You'll make yourself sick. Again."

"Thanks." You could at least croak out your gratitude, squinting to get a better look at him. "The others–?"

He was gorgeous, dark eyes and eyebrows slanted into the perfect expression of concern. He looked surprisingly normal, given the circumstances. Only a slight split on his full lips, a smear of sand crusted into his curls, marred his handsome face. You watched as his mouth twisted, as he rolled his neck glanced away. A grimace, more telling than words.

"Just you, me, the sand and the coconuts. Paradise cruise, eh?" He finally spoke, nose scrunching as the joke came out a little flat.

It wasn't a shock, but it was jarring all the same. Though you swallowed, your voice came out thick. "At least you're here. Wouldn't have gotten this open by myself."

It was feeble, words half swallowed as survivor's guilt and gallows humour met and warred. A dysfunctional marriage of relief and self-reproach curdled the coconut water in your stomach. A third player entered; unease. Anxiety, sending your heart rate spiralling high as your breaths grew shallow. Something stung your eyes, and you couldn't entirely blame the smoking fire–

"Hey, hey, look at me," You couldn't look away, not from his steady, unwavering gaze. Beautiful. Like sunlight filtered through whiskey, warm and soothing. "Breathe as I breathe– in, out, in– hold it– okay, out. That's right, that's perfect–"

He talked you through it, brought your trembling, clumsy fingers to his chest as he breathed in counts of eight. Kept his palm over your hand, cupped it against the rise and fall of his ribs. You could feel the firmness of his muscles beneath, feel the way his heart beat a steady rhythm just below your fingertips, and slowly, you relaxed into it.

Your cheeks were wet. You realised that around the same time you realised his other hand was rubbing ataractic circles on your back. A shameful emollient, setting you at ease but lowering your gaze. Here, in the arms of this stranger, who were you? Troublesome castaway, retching on the beach as he built a signal fire. Slurping down the fruit that he offered, then crying in his arms–

"Stop that," His hand paused between your should blades, chin tucked as he leaned down to catch your gaze. "You're doing so well, love. Bit of a fucked up situation we're in here."

"How are you so calm? How are you so organised? I feel like I'm going to drift away like–like–"

The hand at your back pushed you forward, pressing until you were draped across his lap. He rocked you, stubble against your temples as he shushed and soothed. Analgesic whispers that slackened your tight limbs, sent eyelids fluttering until you slipped into slumber. Mind numb, docked in restful harbours.

-----------------

When you woke up, you were hot. Shivering, teeth-chattering, but hot. You could no longer smell the fire, but you could feel it against your bare skin. Toasty, crackling embers smouldering and making you sweat.

The fever slowed your mind, too. Thoughts turned to sluggish, sticky mulch as you nuzzled into the strong bicep supporting your neck. His skin was smooth, slightly tacky where it met yours, and you whined a little as you tried to pull away.

But moving sent your head spinning, aching muscles seizing until all you could do was cry.

"You're alright, just sleep. Don't move–"

"My clothes," you slurred the words, heavy and sticky on your tongue. Crystallising like spoiled honey, you tried to spit them out faster, but they just dripped. Molasses-slow, and murky. Confused. "I'm not– my clothes are– what–?"

"I took them off you–shh, shh– They were tattered anyway, we'll need to dig through the piles and see what we can repair." You felt his arm flex below you, rolling your head until it was resting on the pillow of his chest. You tried to open your eyes, but the image was hazy. Like looking through seaglass. "It's cold here at night, freezing. The fire's good, but body heat's best."

"'m too hot– feel too–"

"Yeah, noticed you weren't just cold when you wouldn't stop shivering," his forearm banded around your squirming body, pinning you to his. "I know, baby, I know. It's not nice. Gonna try to sweat it out of you. Don't exactly have the luxury of good food and medicine."

His voice was pitched low, sweet. It made you want to cry, mind adrift and body at his mercy. Holiday turned tragedy, swallowed up by the sea and spat up on the beach like refuse. Control slipped through your fingers, finer and more fickle than the sands below and all you could do was cry.

You felt his fingers, whisper-soft, stroking through the ends of your salty, parched hair. Your tears dripped down, soaking into your flushed cheeks and the sparse, scratchy hairs on his chest. He paused for a beat, fingers swiping over your damp forehead. Whisps pushed away until you felt a butterfly kiss against your clammy forehead. Quick and gentle and fleeting.

Small waves kissed the beach, too. Susurrus, splashing caresses that almost sent you drifting off again. The rumble of his voice tickled your cheek, made you blink slowly until you could make out his face through bleary eyes.  

"It's just you and me and this island," He spoke it softly, sting mollified by surety. Bittersweet ointment for a distressing prognosis. "I've got you; I'll take care of you. I promise."

Your answer was faint. "What if no-one comes for us?"

His arms curled tighter around you, twisted until you were splayed atop him. In another time, another place, you'd be flustered by the open splay of your legs, bare against his lean waist. Here, shame withered away, fizzled out. Ephemeral as seafoam.

"I told you, I'll take care of you. Rescue or not, it's you and me now."

Later, you'd blame delirium, fever dream-fugue, for how the words echoed in your mind. 'Just you and me.'

You and him, and the island.

-----------

[gomzdrawfr]

Please! I need to know how the others feel about bear Price and his little cute tail. He's so fricken cute, I can't! 🤍

well...

because im biased towards Ghost and Raven...

[machveil]

a treat for my 20th birthday🎂✨thanks for keeping up with my daily König sketches, looking forward to another year of them<3

[amonisweird]

I saw a post like this on Instagram but it was with Gorillaz and I thought about this😂

[charliemwrites]

Can we get some horny headcanons for Saint?👀

You said they're big as fuck and I wanna know how he'd react to a smaller omega (fem) in the pack during his rut🤭

Hiya! I’m gonna use they/them and be vague about genitalia to preserve some of the lovely ambiguity of Saint’s vibe.

But Saint’s a virile Alpha through and through, with a pack of high-energy Omegas so they are horny. These aren’t just headcanons, these are canon canon :)

- kissing their jaw/chin instantly gets them going, esp if it’s messy. They make a noise that’s not quite a purr, not quite a growl. Not all Alphas make that noise, but Saint does. They get all narrow-eyed and relaxed, rolling their hips.

- omegas on top are their favorite position, they love watching their pack take what they need while they coo and praise them

- free use kink, esp for omegas in heat and pre-heat. They secretly love doing something else while their omega gets off, listening to them chirp and purr for attention while they have a conversation or fill out forms. Until their omega gets that’s sweet needy, demanding edge and saint gives them all the attention they could possibly handle.

- it’s a crass term that saint would never use, but “bitching” another alpha is a secret fantasy. They’re a bit ashamed of it, so they only ever really use it as fantasy material during pre-rut and rut, when their inhibitions are lower.

- their scent glands aren’t actually as sensitive as one might expect (due to applying neutralizer so often) so biting down on it, even without drawing blood, will have them moaning and getting close. Being a little rough with them in general is hot, they love scratches and bites and bruises, it’s what they’re built for

- soft dom. Loves to praise. Loves to gently correct. Coos and churrs and purrs while you’re falling apart, holding you close while you cling and murmuring sweet filth in your ear, subharmonics in every word. “I know, I know. It’s a lot but you’re taking it all so well. I knew you would, sweet omega. You can cry if you need to, I know you’re overwhelmed.”

[darkbunnylove]

Poly!141 at the gym

Soap is that one GymBro™ that is respected by all because he outlifts nearly everyone at everything, but somehow also stays incredibly humble about it. “Oh that? Nah, you could totally do that too,” he says to a guy half his size, holding a 2kg dumbbell and vibrating with fear.

Basically lives in the gym. Goes whenever there’s a gap in his schedule. Runs a surprisingly balanced split (he took gym advice from a Reddit thread in 2014 and now quotes it like it’s the Bible). Cardio? Handled during drills and chasing down targets. The walk from the locker room to the squat rack is plenty.

Everyone likes him because he talks to everyone. Literally. You. The guy hogging the bench. The janitor. The vending machine. Every gym session starts with a cheerful, “Hey, mate, how many sets you got left?” and ends with a full-blown conversation about the newest pre-workout trends or the crushing weight of modern masculinity.

Gaz is the other GymBro™ and also hits the gym whenever there’s a spare moment, but unlike Soap, he’s usually there in the early morning because it helps him clear his head and start the day right. Probably did track or cross-country as a kid, so he actually likes cardio. Takes it very seriously, too. “You do realize your heart’s a muscle too, yeah? Gotta train it like the rest,” he says, likely even mid-sprint.

Also probably the only one out of the four who goes to the gym because his body is a temple, not because he’s battling a whole army of inner demons.

Friendly, but keeps to himself at the gym. Headphones in, locked in, not trying to bother anyone. But if your form is truly a disaster, he’ll absolutely say something.

Once accidentally signed up for a spin class. Secretly loved it. Now he goes twice a week for the white-girl music. Not like he would tell anyone, though.

Ghost definitely does some sort of hybrid training. Probably boxing, or Muay Thai. Scarily good at it. Like used to compete in high school good. These days, he just keeps it up to stay in shape. Only ever shows up late at night, when the gym is half-empty and dimly lit. Price jokingly calls it his natural habitat.

Definitely fighting some inner demons. Also the only person who can outlift Soap. Occasionally brags.

Not a big coffee lover, but absolutely has a caffeine addiction. Mainlines Monster White like it’s a medical requirement. Gaz is lowkey concerned but stays quiet.

Wears a black hoodie and joggers every single time with the hood up, of course. Never chats. Never smiles. People are lowkey terrified of him on sight, but mostly because between sets, he zones out so hard he ends up staring into the void.

Probably a phonk-enjoyer. Or Britney Spears.

Price either hits the gym at the crack of dawn or well into the late evening, thanks to his nightmare of a schedule. Usually catches Gaz on his way out or Ghost mid-brood. If he shows up at night, he’ll stay even longer than Ghost. 

Very solid split. Great all-rounder. Can crank out weighted pull-ups like it’s nothing and is the only one who actually takes stretching seriously. Does a lot of functional training too, like sled pushes and weighted carries.

Would actually be a phenomenal spotter… if he didn’t only show up when the gym is basically empty.

Does not listen to music. The haunting loop of “you should be doing more” on repeat is enough for him. Probably knocks out an entire set in silence, then just stares at the floor like it said something offensive.

Apart from trying to hit his protein goals the “natural” way, he owns exactly one shaker bottle. It’s survived three deployments and a house fire.

Can casually do pistol squats, but will only do it if practically bullied into it by the others.

Oh, and he's definitely the only one who actually wipes the bench after using it.

[tacticalanxiety]

When I return I'll look for you so listen for your name

[cerosin-bis]

hello cero!!!! i hope ur doing great

what do you think is the symbolism behind nikto's patch in MW'22??

Hi!! I don't know if there is actually any, so I went for actual significance rather than symbolism. Buckle up for lore. If you're not familiar at all with DMZ this post can help. It is a PvPvE mode exclusive to MWII with quite a lot of lore and different factions to complete missions for.

Nikto's patch in MWII (left) reminded me of either the Legion (middle) or Phalanx (right) factions logos from DMZ, although without being any of the two... Given the post-S4 DMZ lore it could be that he's working for/with either, though Legion was gone by S4 iirc. If Legion is out of the question, him working for Phalanx could make sense in a very far-fetched way since:

it seems he was a third-party in the Vondel conflict (see the S4 trailer video - Laswell mentions soldiers of unknown allegiance the moment they show him).

Phalanx seems to be here only to eliminate the Peacekeepers from Vondel (Milena's "forces"/NPC enemies in the Vondel map if I'm not mistaken),

DMZ lore implies that Phalanx has a partnership with Black Mous (another DMZ faction), and Black Mous has ties with the CIA (so, Laswell / the good guys from MWII).

So it's hard to tell. Nikto could be a renegade, someone working for Phalanx, or an extremely elaborate "false flag" built over the Phalanx/Black Mous and Black Mous/CIA partnership. i do think this is reading extremely far into it and that Nikto's patch is actually just "looks hard and cool".

[callofdutylorist]

Modern Warfare Timeline Differences (1)

Classic vs. Reboot: o! = Original, n! = Reboot

o!Soap is the higher ranker between him and Ghost, while the roles are reversed between n!Ghost and n!Soap

Roach doesn't exist in the second timeline

o!Gaz has no full name listed, and is noticeably white. n!Gaz is known as Kyle Garrick, and is black

o!Price has a more posher accent compared to n!Price. In fact about everyone has different accents, Ghost having the strongest difference in my opinion

o!Price is mentored on how to shoot a sniper well in ghillie suits by MacMillan. n!Price mentors n!Gaz on the exact same thing also in ghillie suits

n!Soap is shorter than o!Soap. n!Ghost is taller than o!Ghost.

o!Ghost is more extroverted, friendly, and dependent. n!Ghost makes notably darker jokes, is more introverted, less friendly, and starkly independent

o!Ghost has black hair and green eyes, while n!Ghost has brown hair and brown eyes

So far.... Gaz, Soap, Griggs, and Ghost are all dead in the original timeline.

During Shepherd's betrayal Shepherd does the dirty work himself, and successfully kills Ghost, alongside Roach. Graves does the dirty work in Timeline 2, and fails to kill Ghost

Alejandro Vargas and Philip Graves have similarly named characters in the 1st Timeline, but the relations between them is thin to nothing. Alejandro Vargas, the cartel fighting member of Los Vaqueros has Alejandro Rojas, a cartel enemy to Soap's team. Philip Graves has Darren "Graves" Cosgrave, o!Price's North Irish ally.

Shepherd loses his iconic red beret and mustache in the 2nd timeline (and his hair in general)

n!MacMillan is implied to be dead, having gone a failed assassination mission against Zahkaev with n!Price. Although o!MacMillan fails to assassinate Zahkaev with Price, he does tear his arm off, and survive to tell the tale. IN fact o!MacMillan never dies

n! Griggs takes more a backseat in involvment compared to o! Griggs. n!Griggs Also has a full name, Marcus Griggs.

Farah Karim, Valeria Garza, Alex Keller and Kate Laswell do not exist in the 1st Timeline.

[cuppajj]

I haven’t canonized the complete order in which the ancients corrupted yet, but there’s a high chance now that Lily was first while Vanilla was last

[shadow0-1]

high rollers

[eyelambspider]

Spider. Eye. Lamb. || COD/Outlast Au

⤷ summary : you and him. together you'll be the ones to make it out of the trials... (drabbles/hcs)

┊pairing : könig, gaz, price x gn!reader ┊content warning : mentions of gore/death/blood, horror, pining(?) finding comfort in each other ┊a/n : ffffffuck! i love the outlast trials! (forgive me i like scary games) also: for god sakes, i'm doing chapters/scenarios for this

▹ König

Its nearly impossible for König to hide while in the Trials. He can't fit into the lockers quickly (or the barrels), so he opts to linger in the darker rooms with the burnt out bulbs.

so. he's usually wearing his night vision goggles or his eyes are adjusting to the dark. leading him to be more anxious and feeling exposed in brightly lit places.

Because of his size, König can break through the wooden boards blocking doorways with one kick if he needs to run.

Other reagents (people) in the sleep-room are afraid of him and tend to stay away. He looks too similar to the Prime Assets in the trials, with the cut up pillowcase over his head... and his height.

it doesn't help his mental health, not talking to much people in the sleep room... but the doctors seem to like him. If not only for his physical build.

sometimes, König comes to the metal door of your room and stands there, unsure how to really ask but- he likes laying with you on your bed. the two of you laying there in each others arms for nothing more than the comfort of being with another person who... knows how scary it is.

König likes to protect you in the Trials, intervening just as the grunts try to bring down their weapons on your prone form by shoving them off violently.

▹ Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz is the quietest and is hardly seen by those who roam the halls and rubble-filled streets of the trials.

he always has a lockpick on him, and often uses it to open up medical supplies for himself. always proving to be especially resourceful.

Uses bottles to throw and distract the enemies when he works.

Gaz is one of the braver subjects to be put into the trials, always taking risks and evading the prime assets and enemies by a hair.

Gaz's biggest fear in the trials is that he is too good at it. Trials become easier and easier, but it messes with his head to think that instead of getting this horror show over with as fast as possible-he's actually doing exactly what the doctors want him to do.

Is it just survival... or is Murkoff's twisted form of 'treatment' actually working?

Gaz likes talking to you.

Well, having your company. He doesn't open up about what he thinks and fears. Just sort of... sits with you and chats in the cafeteria during meal times.

And on the shuttles (from the sleep room to the Trials) Gaz likes to sit across from you, even with the TV in front of his face, and the bars on the side of his head (forcing him to watch)... he likes knowing you're right there. Likes reminding you to be angry instead of scared, "Fuck the doctors-remember that-fuck the doctors!"

You actually might be the reason he's still resisting the treatment. He tries to protect you from feeling as... as desperately terrified of becoming what the doctors want.

▹ John Price

Price hates to get paired with you in the Trials. Solely because he'd hate to see you hurt but... "its good to see a friendly face"

Price would do well in his trials, ranking a grade average 'B'.

It would be better, but he despises being apart of these sick games and 'messes up' on purpose.

(When you're afraid in the Trials) Price grabs your shoulders and forces you to look at him, keeping you grounded and giving you something to focus on other than the threat of dying. "Just get the key, alright? Its got a little black star on it. You get it and bring it back here... and we'll both get out of here. Won't let anything bad happen to ya," he assures.

In the sleep-room, Price always tells you to come and play a game of chess with him. "No buts." He knows it will distract the both of you for a while, and if you don't know how to play, he's got all the time to teach you.

(When you don't make it back to the exit) Price always waits for you, has to watch you enter the transport himself to make sure you're okay. And when you don't, he gets antsy, glancing at the red timer above the door that says you have only three minutes... "Fuck," he decides, turning his back on the exit and beginning to run back into the Trial to find you.

he likes taking care of you, gives him something else-something more important-to focus on outside of the trials.

if anyone was getting out of the trials, he'd hoped it'd be you

[worms-for-brains]

———————————————————————

Part one - Ghost

———————————————————————

Ghost was originally a mortal that lived many many centuries ago, being a colonizer that had been accepted into a small kingdom that resided in the jungle.

He was unfortunately slit in the throat, tied up and left for dead in a burial tomb when the villagers believed he had betrayed them to his former colonizer buddies.

His soul was devoured by the old death god, however he made a pact that bound him to be the new deity (the old one was well… old.)

Now Ghost presides over the duties of Death. Taking sacrifices and collecting souls for all eternity.

———————————————————————