#cod oc: stray

[cod-dump]

See, Stray would happily receive his gifts from leave and offer him various odd precious stones and fudge in return.

Very much a "That's a beautiful piece of sea glass. Here, have this piece of petrified wood that I picked up in Arizona in return. All tumbled and polished and ready to go," moment.

Giving Moose a pretty rock and fudge? Heart stolen. Food is the quickest way to a man’s heart and that especially applies to Moose. He’s laying on the floor, eating fudge and sanitizing the pretty rocks to put in the fish tank. Count EA would love it. Oh? That’s a nice piece of wood, great for Stan to enjoy. Don’t expect a intelligent conversation from him for the rest of the day.

[whisperingsweet-sleeptoken]

INCORRECT QUOTE SHITS I MADE WITH OC'S N STUFF!

All OC's to their respective owners! @stuffireadandenjoy, @mike-like-t-scream @cod-dump & @yawnderu.

COD-DUMP: Meerkat Yawnderu: Stray

-At Shadow Company Base-

Graves: What in the fine fresh Sam Hell-? Price: The fuck am I witnessing? Soap: *cACKLING WHILE FILMING* Ghost: What in the bloody- Gaz: GO STRAY!!! GO MEFKA!!!!

Stray, Mosely, Meerkat, Mefka, and Esther: *Dancing to that tiktok song while the Shadow Company wave their phone flashlights like paparazzi*

[yawnderu]

Incel Keegan👀

cw: misogyny, Incel!Keegan, deepthroat, boot riding, slut shaming. MDNI.

Incel!Keegan is FILTHY. Spending over 20 years serving and seeing history repeat itself is what initially turns him into an incel. So many of his good brothers being cheated on while they're risking their lives saving the country is enough for him to know whores like you aren't worth a dime— yet he still allows you to come to his house every single day he's not deployed.

“Keep sucking.” He spits out, burying his cock down your throat despite your gagging and the tears spilling down your cheeks, only pulling out after a few seconds to spit into your mouth and make a bigger mess out of your face.

Every single inch of his cock is glistening with your saliva, helping his hand slide up and down his length, his grip tightening when he sees you open your mouth, tongue darting out like a well-trained slut.

“You're gonna swallow for me, sweetheart?” His tone is nothing but pure condescendence, knowing you're right where you belong— on your knees, with a superior male jerking off in front of you, groans and deep moans escaping his lips.

This is what Keegan always craved. Your submission is enough to make his heart skip a beat as he jerked off faster, smearing leaking precum all over your tear-stained cheeks while you desperately tried to suck him off again, only to be pulled back each time by a rough yank, his grip on your hair firm.

Keegan can barely register when you start rubbing your needy, wet cunt on his boot, a small smirk pulling on his lips. It's filthy. He should punish you for being such a whore, yet it's so fucking hot to see you reduced to nothing than a brainless little toy, desperate to cum.

“Of course you are, you nasty bitch.” Your needy moans as you rub yourself on his combat boot is enough to send him to the edge, shooting ropes of warm, filthy cum right into your waiting mouth, fulfilling your purpose— a brain dead piece of meat meant to serve men.

[doggoboigaugau]

Jealous!Ghost propaganda

- I continue to spread the Jelly Ghost propaganda 👍👍👍 - a lit bit nsfw(?)

hehe trans men in crop tops 🤭🤭🤭

🤭🤭🤭below🤫🤫🤫

- I'm still not confident enough to make the full HD stuff and post it online lmaooooooo - Drawing to cope with my crippling d3pr3ssion because of finals...

[yeetmyboi]

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭.

Chapter 4 : Choices & Consequences

cw : implied domestic abuse and alcoholism

— — —

The rest of the day goes by as per usual for how your first days typically go. You arrived, attended a brief (albeit tense) briefing, returned to your quarters to settle in, and now you found yourself heading to the canteen.

Just in time for dinner. Yippee… You can already feel yourself wanting to rush the entire affair. Get in, grab your food, eat, get out. You repeat in your head.

It was bustling, much to your dismay. A big cafeteria-like room with tables and booths for various groups to sit at. Light wood seemingly used to brighten up what else would be a dreary interior, given the numerous amount of camouflage uniforms that filled up said chairs and booths. Still it gave you flashbacks to high school. Times when you were more happy at school than at home. Truth be told, anywhere was better than being home with your mother and her new boy-toy of the month.

Shit seemed so much simpler then…

You get in line, grab an empty tray, silverware, and await your turn. Sliding down in tandem with the others before you. Ahead you spot Mohawk— er, Soap. His ocean blue eyes looking up to the person next to him, twinkling with a hint of mischief while he cracks a joke. You can hear the warmth in his laugh as it makes his shoulders shake. When was the last time you laughed like that?

Your eyes move from the man— who’s been nicknamed after a freakin’ cleaning product —up to land on who he’s chattering to. Oh? He’s actually making conversation with the Lieutenant? Well, as much as one can when talking to a brick wall. Yet, it looks like Ghost is engaging with him. Making comments back and entertaining the whole conversation.

For whatever reason, the sight of Soap and Ghost in that moment eats at you. That closeness, that solidarity. The way the shorter man speaks with such ease to the other. Comfortable, light, open. With he who also seemed to be attentively listening and conversing back. It makes you feel something you haven’t wanted to think about for the past year.

Something, somewhere nips at you. Deep inside, in the far back of your mind. The beast rattles its cage. It’s familiar fangs not having lost their edge. You thought you had muzzled this beast, locked it up and threw away the key. Yet, here it was. Back to remind you what you hate the most. It opens its jaws, drool dripping from its hungry maw. It growls, low and rumbling like distant thunder.

You’re lonely.

No, there’s a difference between being alone and being lonely, you try to silence that voice. Squash it before it has a chance to burrow any deeper. Besides, it’s not like you hadn’t seen others interact like that before. What made this any different? What had changed?

You feign ignorance, but the beast sees through it.

You both knew the truth.

Shit.

Your attention snaps back just as those deep brown eyes flick to you, effectively catching you staring. Your body tenses for a second before you force yourself to relax. Still you don’t shy away from his gaze. Yeah, he caught you. So what? Trying to justify it to yourself and brush off the fact that he caught you. You were pretty sure he’s been watching every move you make since the meeting and you just happen to do it more blatantly.

Your eyes only tear away from the silent stare-off when you turn your head to the man serving you a scoop of green beans. Muttering a small, polite ‘thank you’ before looking back. Only to see the pair of them gone, likely heading to their own table.

Thank fuck for that.

Finishing your way down the line, you look around the room. A private corner where you can eat in peace and hopefully retire for the evening. But that’s when you spot the group of men huddled in a corner, commandeering a large table. The whole Task Force minus Price. All buddy-buddy with each other.

You got two choices here, Stray.

That beast bares its fangs once more. Its pacing back and forth in the back of your mind. Like a rabid dog trapped in a cage you put it in. Reminding you of what you felt only seconds ago. Merely a drop in what was an ocean worth of repressed feelings inside you. The ones you’ve be struggling to fight back, especially this past year.

Gaz was the one who was the first to meet your gaze. His polite smile now curling the ends of his lips. A curt nod offered to you.

Great, now you really can’t pretend you didn’t see him.

With a sigh, you head over to the table. This time opting for the seat furthest away from Ghost. You take the edge seat, easily able to dip out if you’d want to, and feel as if Ghost takes note of this. Gaz sat to your right and Soap across from you. Ghost, being diagonal, merely offered a grunt to your presence.

Well, at least it looks like you’re making an effort to be friendly.

“How are you settlin’ in?” Gaz asks, seemingly trying to be the first one to offer an olive branch.

“Good, Good.” You answer, giving a few nods to aid your inexperience with small talk.

Gaz’s attempt at initiating conversation with you skirts the edges of Ghost's attention, the barrier of his own indifference momentarily wavers. Your response was hesitant, almost mechanical, and he can't help but analyze the slight restraint in your voice. Ghost had studied similar responses in others— it's part of his skill set —and he knows it suggests either a lack of trust or discomfort.

Gaz, who seems pleased with the exchange, regardless of its brevity, continues, "Anything you need help with, let us know, yeah?" He means for it to sound casual, but the concern is evident.

Soap chimes in, his infectious grin not dimming in the slightest. "Aye! An’ don't mind mean ol’ Ghostie there," he says cheerfully, slicing a chunk off his steak and pointing his knife at the stoic lieutenant. "He's got a soft spot, jus' buried deeper than the bloody Mariana Trench, is all."

Ghost, unable to stay silent any longer, glances at Soap with a pointed stare that seems to carry an unspoken ‘watch it’, before turning his attention to you. His expression remains blank, everything but his eyes hidden behind that ever-present skull balaclava. "She doesn’t need to be mollycoddled," he speaks to Soap, but the message carries to the whole table, including you. "She's a mercenary, not a bloody recruit."

After that, the group slowly continues their conversations. Ghost’s input causing a brief lull before Soap started up about one of his favorite stories of having a close call during a mission. Gaz engaging only to make sure Soap’s ability to over-embellish didn’t take away from the actual tale.

You sat there, an outsider looking in. Their closeness evident in the way they talk and tease each other, almost like close siblings. Soap and Gaz riling each other up while Ghost quietly eats.

Your eyes couldn’t help but glance the rare sight of skin. Noticing how he’s only opted to roll up his balaclava instead of taking it off. So he does wear that thing 24/7… The strong jawline of his profile, slight stubble on his chin, the pink of his lips, and the various white scars that was chipped from his skin. Only there was one that immediately caught your attention.

It was a deeper one. Starting from the corner of his lips extending back, curling slightly upwards. It looked jagged, cut roughly and with little care. Small branches breaking off of the deeper stem.

Glasgow scars.

You try not to look for too long. Eyes immediately darting back to the tray in front of you. You hated when people stared at yours. After your little tiff in the meeting room and awkward staring contest, you’d rather avoid any more offensives at the moment. For lack of wanting Laswell or Price to pull you away and give you one last warning to ’play nice’.

But still, seeing his skin marred reminded you of your own. You could still clearly picture the stolen glance of his jaw in your mind’s eye. The brief, almost fleeting image causing a phantom burning sensation in your left cheek. That deep etch of your own reminding you of its presence.

Dinner was mediocre. Typical military food. Bland, but enough to keep your body fueled. With an empty tray in hand, you give a nod to excuse yourself. Normally you would’ve just left when you were finished. Hell, you wouldn’t have even sat with them. Yet you sat there, lingering after you finished your meal. Just listening. Why? Disposing any bits of leftovers in the bin, you stack your dirty tray with the others then leave the canteen entirely.

Your boots clacked in a rhythmic pace down the linoleum tiles that lined the halls. It was fairly empty as most were still unwinding from a day’s work in the mess hall or elsewhere. The emptiness causing your mind to drift, feet left on autopilot as you head to your room.

What the fuck is going on with you? One minute you’re ready to chew someone’s head off, the next you’re rolling over and exposing your belly. You’re out here acting like some type of kicked dog. It’s pathetic, really. You were once a Lieutenant. There’s no excuse for you to not be able to be in control of your emotions.

How far have you fallen?

You chastise yourself. Beat yourself up over your lack of control. How that feeling of loneliness continued to nibble away at you. Like you craved something akin to what you had just witnessed in the canteen. Once again, you’re forced to remind yourself that this is just a job, not something entirely permanent. That you’ll be gone before you know it and anything you fostered here would too.

And yet…

A door swung shut behind you, snapping you back into the present moment. Your focus returns as your eyes survey the cramped quarters, finally able to have a proper look around now.

It was spartan, as usual for anything even remotely military. A desk with a lamp, wardrobe, and a bed. Your duffel bag was still on said bed, causing the thin pad that qualified as a mattress to dip slightly. Right where you left it.

A heavy sigh leaves your chest, yet the weight behind it stayed there. A sense of melancholy had followed you from the deeper recesses of your brain, draping over you in a less-than-comforting shroud. It felt like having a tense conversation that was left unfinished, dreading when you’d be forced to continue it later. The drab room seemingly echoing the numbing emptiness you were feeling.

In effort to push away your conflicting and confusing thoughts, you head over to your duffle bag. The zipper moving with a familiar ease. Something constant to fight against the unpredictability of your emotional state. Your clothes, personal belongings, and such were still carefully packed inside. In an act you’ve done dozens of times, you methodically unpack— having it down to a science by now. Laying a silent claim to this dorm as your temporary place of residence.

Filing the last of your thermal undershirts in the provided wardrobe, the time difference was finally hitting you. That call to sleep getting too strong to fully ignore. You look out the singular window in your room. It was nothing but a small rectangular piece of glass that sat imbedded near the top of the wall. Clearly put there to only provide some natural light, if any. Not like there was much of a view with the blinding snow that lays just outside. The sun was now gone, meaning the cold night was fully here.

A few extra hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt…

You strip off your clothes and swap them out for some warm flannel pants and a long sleeve shirt before crawling into bed. The heavy wool blanket was at least partially comfortable. Not too scratchy but still not a soft as you’d prefer. At least it would keep you warm, and with the evidence of the shitty insulation you were sure you were in for a chilly night. Releasing a quiet groan, you stretch your muscles before curling up on your side. Slowly closing your eyelids. Mind drifting off toward that siren call of momentary peace, narrowly avoiding the raging thoughts from earlier. Allowing you to briefly be free from the clashing thoughts that lurked in your mind.

Then just as the wool blanket, sleep wrapped you in its soothing embrace.

ּ࣪ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ּ࣪ ᯽ ּ࣪ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ּ࣪

You’re in a room. Once familiar, but now completely foreign. You glance around, taking quick notes of your surroundings. The only exit seemingly behind you as a closet door was haphazardly left open to your right, children’s clothes and toy flowing out of it. A thin mattress laid on the floor ahead of you, adorned with disheveled brightly colored blankets and stuffed animals. Lacking any sheets underneath. It was pushed to the farthest corner of the room. Across it to the left was a crib. An abandoned blanket and pacifier laid inside. A pain squeezes your heart inside your chest.

It’s your childhood bedroom.

The one you shared with your younger brother growing up. Stale scent of cigarettes hangs in the air adding to the heavy weight of quiet dread that threatens to press down on your shoulders. You could feel the palms of your hands getting clammy. Ears starting to fill with the dull roar of your blood pumping. Instinctual fear slowly creeping up your spine. It’s tendrils inching up and curling around each individual vertebrae, like icy fingers walking up the middle of your back.

Then a sniffle was heard right beside you. Quickly, you turn your head to look at the source. Your throat tightens at the sight.

It’s you.

Well, your younger self. One still left intact, untouched by the cursed events of your life that have yet to happen. She’s crying, wearing the pjs you faintly remember from childhood. Small hands consistently wiping at the salty tears and snot that couldn’t seem to stop flowing from her person. Her wide eyes are looking to the door in front of her, her shoulders shaking as she tries to stifle her sobs.

The sight draws out the protective side of you. A soldier ready to act and protect those who can’t protect themselves. The guard dog you’ve become. One bitter with anger at the negligence she was suffering. That you had suffered through.

“Hey, shhh…” You whisper gently, moving to crouch down in front of her.

Slowly, you lift your hands to place them on her shoulders. Giving her ample time to deny your touch, but when she didn’t you gently rub your calloused hands up and down her small arms.

“It’s okay. You’re safe in here.”

You gently pull your younger self in, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace— using your body acting as her shield. Something you knew you longed for. A hand cradled the back of her head, while the other soothingly rubbed up and down her back.

Before you could offer more get to words, that’s when you hear the muffled yelling. A slamming of a door. Multiple feet stomping against the thin floor of the trailer. Feeling each step shake the floor underneath your knees. Colorful profanities painting the air.

You can feel her trembling in your embrace.

“Shh, it’s okay. They won’t get you in here.” You whispered, pulling back to look at her. Her eyes are trained on the door, almost too scared to look away. As if the moment she did, that’s when the monstrous entities outside the door would strike. You look to the empty crib behind her, then back to her. A sharp sting hitting your chest once more.

“Hey, where’s Jason? Is he out there?” You asked, gently probing but not wanting to add to her distress.

She nods.

“Okay,” you give a weak smile, “I’ll go get him. You just stay here and curl up under the blankets, okay? I promise I’ll be right back.”

With a tender touch, you cup her cheek. Your thumb moving to wipe away a stray tear. A small nod and you’re up, turning to face the door.

The yelling is getting louder the closer you get to it. Just as your hand touches the cool metal of the doorknob, a slap could be heard. Promptly followed by the deep rumble of a strange male’s voice. You can pick out your mother’s own rebuttal. A shrill drunken shriek compared to low slurred timbre of the male’s voice. A baby cries.

Jason.

The bitter anger swells up inside your chest. Determination carves itself into your face. You glare at the door and what waits on the other side. Gritting your teeth, you fling the flimsy piece of wood open and charge.

Some force shoves you back, just as roughly as you had charged. Causing you to fall backwards. You land on your ass with a grunt. All you can see is white, briefly blinding you. Your eyes blink rapidly to try and adjust to the sudden change. The dim lighting of the trailer had been switched to that of midday. You hear traffic before you see it and feel the motion of movement without physically moving. Your vision slowly creeps into focus. Hands frantically reaching out and grasping for what’s underneath you. The touch of cracking leather greets your fingertips. It takes a minute for you to register where you are.

A car. You’re in a car now? Shoved into the backseat with someone in the driver’s seat. The environment outside the speeding car is just a blur. You were moving fast. Just as you were about to yell at the driver to slow the fuck down, you see him.

“Jason?” You call out his name, looking to meet his in the rear view mirror.

Only he’s not quite right. His face is slightly blurred and proportions just a bit off. Is the nose a bit too big? Or are the eyes just a touch too far apart? You couldn’t tell. He just looked… off. It’s almost like your brain can’t fully recollect what he looks like.

Have you already forgotten what your own brother looks like?

The man who resembles your deceased brother smiles back at you through the mirror. You watch his lips speak your name, but the voice is muffled. Unclear and distorted. Before you can say anything else to him, your eyes snap to the traffic in front of you. A stop light lies up ahead, and the car is approaching it quickly.

“Jason, slow down! You’re not gonna make it.” You try to warn him, already knowing what’s about to happen.

He doesn’t.

“Jason!” You yell, trying to snap his attention back to driving. His eyes just continue to stare at you through the mirror, not paying attention to the now red light.

“JASON!” You scream once more, this time at the top of your lungs. Only now it feels like you’re screaming under water. Distorted, suppressed. Muted.

The car enters the intersection.

You lunged forward to try and grab the wheel. Your hand can barely grasp the worn leather of the steering wheel when movement just outside the driver’s side window catches your attention.

“Jason—!” Is all your muted voice can yell before your whole body is rocked to the side. Forcing your side to slam against the passenger seat. The sound of glass breaking and tires screeching pierces your ears. It’s all you can hear as everything turns black.

[the-whispers-of-death]

Getting Caught

*Stone walking back to his barracks with two bags in this hands, having come back from a trip into town* Price, who is waiting outside the barracks for Stone: Ah, Stone. I was a little worried when I heard you had left base, you're not the type to go gallivanting. Stone: I had to just go into town quickly for some things, next time I'll tell you when I'm leaving. Price, eyeing the bags in Stone's hands: Are those cans of cat food and a bag of dry cat food? Stone, without hesitation: Yes, they are. Price: *realization dawns on him* Stone, is that for the stray cat that's roaming around? Stone, again without hesitation: It is. Price: ... Price: The stray cat that has bitten and scratched several soldiers? Stone: She's misunderstood. Price: She? Stone, heading towards the door of his barracks: I gotta put these bags in my room quickly, I've left the base hospital unattended for too long. *runs into the barracks and closes the door* Price: *stares at where Stone had been* Price, sighing and turning away from the barracks: At least he's making a friend, even if it is a stray cat.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something!

[medicbrainrot]

even in a different life, you still would have been mine

A/N: Here's a stray kitten fic! I hope it's to your liking @v1naco <3

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon on base, and Artemis is out for a walk when she hears a faint meowing sound come from the corner of one of the buildings. She stops, trying to pinpoint where the sound is coming from.

As she waits, she hears another pitiful crying meow sound, and Artemis realizes it’s coming from one of the gutter drains.

She carefully approaches, crouching down next to the exit of the gutter, and spots a little black furball in the drain.

“Hey little buddy. Guess the cat distribution system chose me today, huh?” Artemis whispers to the little kitten, hoping she doesn’t startle it. 

“Pspspsps” Artemis whispers to the kitten, trying to see if she can coax it out. The kitten doesn’t move, only meows and cries pitifully as he stares at Artemis. 

“Aww, are you stuck little buddy?” Artemis asks softly. “Let’s see if we can get you out, okay?” She carefully reaches her hand into the drain and gently grips the kitten by the scruff of its neck, and pulls it out. The kitten gives another pitiful meow, but doesn’t scratch or bite Artemis as she pulls him out. 

She looks the kitten over, and realizes that he’s got something stuck in his paw. “Aww buddy, is that why you couldn’t leave the drain? Where’s your momma?”

Artemis spends a few minutes looking around, trying to see if she can spot any other cats, but she doesn’t see any.

“Okay little buddy. Let’s get you inside, cleaned up and fed, and then we’ll see what happens, okay?” She says to the kitten. 

She tucks the kitten into the pocket of her hoodie, hoping that she can subtly make it to the kitchen without anyone noticing. 

She’s halfway down the hallway to the kitchen when Simon sees her from the corner of his eye. He’s in the rec room watching a movie with a few other people, but he seems to always be aware of Artemis’ presence. 

He sees her sneaking down the hallway, and he leaves the rec room to follow her and see what she’s up to.

“Artemis, what are you doing?” He asks her.

Artemis freezes in her tracks, but doesn’t turn around.

“Artemis, you’re trying to sneak more snacks, aren’t you?” Simon sighs slightly.

“No…” She says suspiciously, not fully turning around.

“Then what are you doing?” He asks.

“Nothing…” She says hesitantly, guarding the pocket of her hoodie.

Artemis and Simon stand in the hallway staring at each other in awkward silence, while Artemis tries to come up with an excuse for her suspicious behavior.

The silence is interrupted by a small ‘mrow?’ coming from the pocket of her hoodie.

 Simon sighs and rolls his eyes at the sound. “Did you seriously bring a cat onto the base and into the building? Temi, you know that’s not allowed.”

Artemis flushes bright red. “I didn’t bring the cat. I found it.” She says as she places her hands protectively around her pocket.

“Artemis, we have these rules for a reason. The cat isn’t allowed in here. It might make a mess or something.” Simon sighs. “Go put the cat back outside please.” 

She shakes her head. “I think he’s injured, I was just going to feed him and clean him up before calling someone about it.” Simon pauses, having a better understanding of where Artemis was going with this. “Alright, show me that cat. We’ll see what we can do about it.” Artemis lifts the bottom of her hoodie up and opens the pocket, revealing to Simon a tiny black kitten with wide greenish eyes. “Look at him, he’s so cute.”

Simon, unable to resist the cuteness of the kitten, relents and coos softly at the kitten. “Yeah, he’s cute. If he’s injured then I guess he can’t go back outside on his own.”

“He’s got something in his paw,” Artemis says softly as she cradles the kitten in her hoodie. “He was crying when I found him.”

“Alright, let me get a look.” Simon extends his hand for the kitten.

Artemis carefully pulls the kitten from her pocket, who lets out a meow of protest before she places him in Simon’s outstretched hand. “Just be careful, he’s scared.”

Simon gently holds the kitten, looking the creature over, taking care not to scare or hurt him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He inspects the paw Artemis mentioned, carefully turning it over. “It looks like a piece of glass. It’s small, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous for the poor guy.”

“I was going to take care of its paw myself, but it might be easier with another set of hands.” She says to Simon, as she softly pets the kitten.

Artemis and Simon make their way to the kitchen where Artemis flicks the overhead light on so that they can see the kitten better.

She pulls a pair of tweezers from a pouch on her cargo pants and hands them to Simon.

He carefully uses the tweezers to pull out the glass embedded in the kitten’s paw. With only a small drop of blood and a small meow from the cat, the glass was out. “There we go little guy, it’s gone.” He says softly, handing the kitten back to Artemis.

“Alright little buddy, I’m gonna wash you now.” Artemis says to the kitten as she runs warm water in the sink. She carefully places the kitten in the bottom and starts bathing the kitten to clean it of any dirt or other things it might have on it.

After she finishes bathing the kitten, Simon wraps it in a dish towel and starts drying it off. The kitten meows again, seeming much calmer. As Simon dries the kitten, it starts meowing more, almost sounding like it’s purring. 

Simon smiles, wrinkling his mask, as he starts to pet the cat. “What are we going to name him?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Artemis starts thoughtfully. “He seemed to really like hiding in the dark pocket of my hoodie.” She pets the kitten as Simon cradles it in his hands. “And he was hiding in the shadows, I almost missed the little guy when I was looking for him.” Simon softly rubs his thumbs along the kitten’s fur as they think about a name. 

Artemis laughs softly, “He just appeared out of nowhere, kind of like you do sometimes. Like a phantom.” 

Simon looks at Artemis with a twinkle in his eyes. “Maybe we should name him Phantom then.” Artemis lifts the kitten, smiling at him. “What do you think, little buddy? Should we name you Phantom?”

The car purrs, seeming to like the name it’s been given.

“It’s settled then.” Simon smiles, “Welcome to Task Force 141, Phantom.”

Artemis hands the kitten back to Simon and laughs, smiling softly at the pair, “Ghost and Phantom.” 

“It’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Simon laughs, then sighs. “We’ll have to talk to Captain Price, and Supply about this. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled about this.”

“Maybe…maybe if we train him to catch mice around the base, they’ll let us keep him?” Artemis says, looking hopeful.

“Well…” Simon pauses, taking a moment to think. “It might be possible, but it’s a bit of a long shot. We’ll see what happens.”

“We’ll see…” Artemis agrees, petting Phantom softly. “We’re gonna take good care of you for as long as we’re allowed to have you buddy.”

Simon looks down at the cat, giving it a soft pet on the head. “You seem pretty attached to the kitten…”

“He’s so little, and he was all alone.” Artemis explains, softly petting the kitten. “I couldn’t find his momma or anything, and I couldn’t leave an innocent kitten out there, especially since he was injured.”

“That was really noble of you, and incredibly sweet.” Simon smiles at Artemis.

“Maybe it’s the medic in me.” She says as she softly pets Phantom. “Maybe I just need to make sure that everyone’s okay.”

“It sounds like the medic in you runs pretty deep.” Simon whispers as he brushes a hand down Artemis’ cheek. “You’re a good person. Maybe too good of a person for this place.”

She shakes her head, a smile on her face. “I’m not ‘too good’ for this place. Someone has to make sure you all come home alive.”

“You might be right.” He says as he pets Phantom again. “Still, make sure you don’t let people take too much from you. They’ll take twice as much as you’re willing to give them, and they won’t think twice about it.” “I know, but that’s why I have you.” Artemis looks at Simon, smiling at how he pets Phantom.

Simon is about to say something else when he gets interrupted by a small “mrow?” from Phantom.

“He’s probably hungry.” Simon chuckles, laughing at how cute Phantom’s little meows are.

“Probably. I think there’s some canned tuna in here.” Artemis says as she reaches into one of the cabinets and pulls out a can. She opens the can and places some of the tuna on a plate. “Alright Phantom, here’s some food for ya.”

Phantom sniffs the tuna hesitantly, but then immediately starts eating, appearing to be excited by the food. 

Artemis washes her hands and then stands next to Simon, leaning her head on his shoulder as they watch the kitten eat the tuna. 

“Well isn’t that adorable.” Simon whispers to Artemis, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I hope we can keep him.” She says softly.

“Me too… Although we’ll have to convince Price that keeping the cat is worth the time and effort, and that it’ll add value in having him.” Simon says as he nuzzles his nose into Artemis’ hair. “Maybe the little guy could be a mascot.” “Hey, pets can be good for morale. Maybe a base cat would be helpful.” Artemis whispers to Simon. “And look at him! He’s so cute! Who could say no to that little face?”

Simon chuckles at Artemis’ enthusiasm for the cat. “When you put it like that, it’s really hard to imagine someone saying no. He’s damn cute, that’s for sure.”

When Phantom is finished eating, Simon picks him up, petting him softly. He then hands the kitten to Artemis and washes the plate. “Alright little guy, let’s go talk to Captain Price.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! Requests are also open!

Masterlist

[shyravenns]

thinking about my CoD oc who's a part time medic, but full time chicken farmer and is married to Nikolai but only three people know about her bc her husband is an asshole who likes to play tricks on people

[katabby]

Work in Progress List . * - ♡

I love you <3

Worshipper Coco (fan, smut)

Human Pet x Alien Yandere (smut, series)

Smut does pretty well-

Slowed/Paused

Want to write

Have no ideas/Not Started

About to give up on/No Interest

Currently Working On

Will Start Eventually

- Links

Character Sheet

Gender Headcanons Wildwood

Writings

NEW WORLD LORE

OLD WORLD LORE

[kat-kc-8107]

so ive been doing a thing for a while and since i got some semi done lines im happy to upload.

this is my baby stray traumatized extroidinair as all my characters are. im hoping to post more about her and the au but not to rushed if you guys really want it let me know and i get to it!

[cod-dump]

I saw where you said Moose needs more friends and I raise you one Cassandra 'Stray' Vance. Intelligence agent for Shadow Company, named for her inability to remain in one place and always being in the oddest places, much like a stray cat. She's prone to stress-baking and making fudge when she should be focusing on translating intelligence or decrypting files. Her office is 100% a safe space from pranks and bullshit for the Shadows that require a quiet space. (She's easily overwhelmed by loud noise.)

Moose would gravitate towards her. Though he is quite used to the chaos that the other Shadows bring, sometimes a break would be nice. The Shadows tend to be quiet while in his space, so his work place will be open to her if she was away from her office. And anything she stress-bakes would not be safe, Moose loves homemade food.

[tw1nkee28]

MORI... PUT HIM DOWN.....

I love the way he can just pick him up like a ragdoll 😭

Sorry Pixel,,,, I can't do much,,,,,,

Mori put the man down

@tw1nkee28

[yawnderu]

I need someone to talk to ab this cause imagine dbf!Keegan genuinely feeling so bad he likes his best friend's daughter, not to mention the age gap and all that. and he keeps trying to push the thought away until she's managed to get through his head INTO HIS DREAMS?? and he has a few normal sweet dreams, but ONE OF THEM BEING YKK a wet dream and he wakes up feeling so guilty but it was hot..? then not being able to get it out of his head when he sees her

- kindly 🪷 anon (hope it isn't taken btw)

YURRRR!! SO REAL FOR THIS ONE CUZ

Dbf!Keegan would definitely feel guilty about the age gap and the fact that you're his best friend's daughter. Sure, you're an adult, well into your 20s but that doesn't erase his guilt. He knows that in your father's eyes you're still his little girl, the apple of his eye, the only family he has left— and Keegan... well, he's something. The man kills people for a living and has seen more of his friends die than he'd like to even think about, a stoic man through and through who has done awful things for the sake of his country.

He might feel like he doesn't even deserve to touch you or think about you in any way other than someone he must protect with his everything. He forces all the thoughts of you to the back of his mind despite the way you always look at him like he's worth something, like he deserves to be looked at, yet it's the same way he forces the thoughts of you away what causes him to have wet dreams.

It's downright nasty. Sinful, forbidden, the way he keeps dreaming about you and has to wake up to a painfully hard cock after seeing the images of you, so perfect and glistening in sweat while he made you his. It gets more difficult with time— Keegan absolutely adores cuddling with you, yet he always has to leave bed and relieve himself in the bathroom so you don't feel his hard cock poking you, not wanting to make anything awkward despite knowing fully well that you want him too.

It's hard to push the memories of those dreams away when he looks at you, so damn perfect and always wanting to show him affection no matter what, the two of you having grown attached to the hip throughout the years. He has to adjust his position every once in a while when you're both cuddling on the couch, not wanting you to see the way he gets so hard from just having you close.

I'm so fucking feral for dbf!Keegan wjdjwlebwown

[doggoboigaugau]

My 4-hour hyper fixation drawing session

These pieces are based on my fic Stray dog, pairing Ghost x Soap x Male Reader This is only my version of Y/n, because basically the reader is yall so u can imagine him in whatever way u like.

"Guess it’s one of the driving forces behind their desire to survive through the deadliest battles, to be able to see you again, not covered in blood and sweat and dust from the field, but in your most adorable state–freshly bathed and safe in their very cherished home." - Part 4

(I also drew one piece of Ghost only but it turned out like shit so..... maybe next time)

(another thing is I wrote this bitch to be so pathetic in the latest parts that I myself forgot how a menace this bitch is to society)

[the-whispers-of-death]

sylvester is telling me he'd love and cherish all the stone variants (but the criminal variants are gonna take like. thrice as long to be let in because of mārītes hissy fits and his own hesitance)

he takes one look at grim reaper!stone and opens the door for him to come in and get out of the cold. he's already looking for a blanket as we speak and asking what tea he'd like.

me: why are you doing this?

sylvester: because thats still the guy i love. he's a little different, sure, but its still him, no?

~ rusty

Grim Reaper!Stone flinches when Sylvester comes with a blanket because he thinks Sylvester's going to hurt him. :(

He even eyes Mārīte warily, tensing whenever she's around him. Everyone around him is watched so heavily.

I imagine that for some reason or another (maybe because Mārīte really loves horses) Sylvester gets the ranch alone because he needs somewhere to hide since Līva and him can just find each other easily when he's in a big city, so Grim Reaper!Stone truly comes in the cold, pouring rain.

He's newly kicked out from the Marine Corps when he was stationed in the UK, not even able to get a ride back home because he had been labeled MIA and left to die in a mission since he was no longer of use to them. So he's bleeding, shivering and so untrusting.

But he needs a place to stay. A home.

[brokenpieces-72]

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The 627th M.A.S.H. Unit

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Pt. 1 ,

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Echo