#cod parallels

[local-apollo-kid]

SOBBING /POS

ITS SO GOOD

nothing’s new

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

They are absolutely SICK for this

[meowmeowriley]

Same person, different font.

No, my mind cannot be changed.

[ryansosilly]

I was there too, Wasn't I?

quick summary of the fic for those have the 'i ain't reading allat' mindset

it isn't specifically an 'x reader' in a romantic sense and nor is it gendered. Everyone can read and imagine themselves as it. It's more of a switch in dynamics if instead of it being Soap and Ghost against the world, it was Soap, Ghost and [REDACTED] against the world :]

This is basically if you played 'Shoko' to Ghost and Soaps 'Gojo and Geto'. If you don't know who they are, you'll enjoy this fic. If you do know who they are? You'll not enjoy it any more, you will just know exactly how it ends

I do my best to never put any borders or rules for [REDACTED] on what they are and they aren't. But for this specific one, you are going to be a medic at least PART TIME! You can imagine yourself as everything and anything else. Sniper, a fucking barbarian or just go full on medic. Anything.

Tw: Typical war stuff you'd expect. Death, blood blah blah

Soap, Ghost and You.

Long time ago, you met Ghost first. Way before Soap was in the picture.

But you didn't meet him in no normal circumstances that people usually met. You met him at his very lowest, beaten and barely alive. You were a part [REDACTED] at the time, and by the string of fate wrapping around both of your necks, you got your hands to Ghost, or during that time... Simon's ruined body. He was alive..barely. After he had managed to dig himself out of that horrible horrible grave with only Vernon's jawbone, he 'ran' into you. Or perhaps you ran into him?

Days blurred by and before you even knew it, four months of healing had passed by. Simon became somewhat attached to you, despite never even realising it.

But at the back of your head you always..had some..ideas..some inklings that maybe.. he didnt quite feel the same. He didn't quite understand how deep your appreciation and care for him went. Though, you made it no big deal. He was recovering. Hell? He even looked too young to have such things figured out already despite being 'an adult'.

Your understanding of him carried even once he got recruited into the task force. Of course, taking you with him as his trusty right hand.

Wherever you go, he goes with. Wherever he goes, you and ...and? Soap, of course!

Sooner than later, the duo became a trio. Or did it stay a duo

You, Soap and Ghost were inseparable. You healed together. You saw the live re-enter Simon's eyes. You saw Simon again for the first time ever since his death the accidents.

Soap even came into your life harder than anyone else before, becoming YOUR right-hand man. He followed you, you followed Ghost, Ghost followed Soap. All of your backs were safe and kept protected through each other. Some called it brotherhood, others made gay jokes. Third types of people tried to split you up while others even counted you as an entity all together. 'the 3 of them', what they called you. The two strongest and their life saver.

But just as time was a blur before, it became a blur again. The happiness couldn't last forever when Soap was pronounced K.I.A.

By Ghosts own request, you were tasked with retrieving his body from the battlefield, cremating him.. writing a report with Laswell and a letter to Soaps parents.

It was surprising that Ghost let you do all of that for Soap. You would've assumed that he would've ran straight to the opportunities but Ghost was tired. Too tired to go out and do it alone. Too tired to find the words. Too tired.

So you understood. You pulled him back up on his feet once, you'll do it again.

"How do you think he would've wanted to go? A grave?"

You spoke quietly, putting on your gloves as you looked down at the dead body of John McTavish, a dear friend, brother and more and an outstanding soldier. His body was cold. So cold that most of his insides were already frozen from the cold air he spent his 'time' laying in. Parts of him missing due to animals finding him before the Task Force did.

"I don't know."

Ghost replied, leaning his head back on the wall in despair. His voice was low, still audible and clear yet so full of unidentifiable emotion. He was sat down at one of the medical carriers. The same one that brought John in here. The morgue felt colder than the metal. Mourning wasn't going to warm him up but neither was John's jacket he kept. Nothing was.

Your gloved hands on the cold body were the only warmth in the room. The only warmth Ghost had left in his life. It was just an unfortunate timing that he had his back towards you, refusing to look at the way John's body was ravaged by the wild animals.

Why were you even here, Simon?

The settlement of cremation came after long talk with the rest of the team. Unfortunately, none of the letters sent to John's supposed family and place of residence were returned so the choice the Task Force made was the final one.

A final choice.

You were there during the entire process of it. And so was Simon. His stomach could hardly handle it so he made Gaz and Price switch with him from time. He described it as 'He didn't want to leave him alone'.

It was obvious to everyone that his mental health was heavily affected, a strong blown dealt to his psyche that everyone excepted you to heal.

You stood there, Simon stood there with you.

You stood there, Gaz stood there with you.

You stood there.. Price stood there with you.

And Simon stood at the front alone once it was time to retrieve the ashes.

You trusted Simon with picking an Urn, picking the place where you'll pour the ashes in between the still difficult deployments they had to finish before a proper 'burial' can happen. You stood by Ghosts side without going anywhere. You saw how bad it got, and was there to comfort him, hug him and bandage his wounds he got from being careless. There to take the alcohol bottle away, put the cigarettes fire out and remind him to wash his sheets, shower, sleep and eat. There to fight off the asks of him to be taken to a ward for his safety. You did everything to keep him where he felt safe, where you knew he was safe.

But no matter how much you hold someone, they'll hold someone else.

An urn in Simon's arms, a letter meant to be burnt away with all of Ghosts unsaid words to Soap.. and a lighter. It was a custom made lighter you've not seen before. It said G & S. It was cute! Your initial was on the other side of it.

The burial went as expected. Everything went by 'smoothly'. Ghost kept his composure and 'life went on'. It went on and on excruciatingly slow.

All that time passing by, lead to one moment you'll always remember whether you like it or not.

"Place feels so dead without Soap."

Ah? Was Ghost helping a new recruit? Talking to them as he stood by a window with you on his left side, holding a pack of cigarettes opened for him.

"He is my best friend. My..only friend."

Ghost shared quietly, staring out the window as he held a cigarette by his mouth. He started wearing the mask even longer to an unhealthy amount now, only taking it off to sleep, smoke or shower.

"oh shut it. I was there too, wasn't I, Simon?"

You tried to joke in this 'unjokeable', dull situation. Reminding him that.. you were there. You just couldn't do anything to save him on the battlefield. Too far, too late.

The recruit was confused more than anything. He had heard so many praises about the sergeant from everyone. But he never knew about you being in the picture?

"[Redacted], were you also friends with the Sergeant?"

As the recruit questioned you, Ghost took his cigarette and left, going to a different window. Too much social interaction, you'd assume. Maybe just the mention of Soap was still uncomfortable. It's been years.

Years..was it really years?

How could just a couple years fill up a morgue so fast? Ghosts suppressed rage harmed civilians, his teammates and the enemies. You fell responsible for it by choice. Patching up a hurt kid that fell in the crossfire, bandaging up Gaz after a fight with Ghost, keeping the bodies of enemies for 'later use' as Ghost said.

Some would say he got better, that he got over it. But it was just never the same. Your friendship almost became entirely professional. He was in and out as soon as he got what he wanted from you. Meds, cigarettes, a new lighter, more meds, bandages, information on bodies. The warm friendship became less than a conversation per day.

Of course, one thing remained the same. When Simon was going through an especially tough time, he made his way to your doorstep. And you listened, comforted him and helped him.

You were adults now. There were no excuses like there were back then. You tried to talk to him about it, which he ended up..actually taking quite seriously. You started hanging out a bit more. Going out for coffee sometimes, chatting more often even if you had to now refer to him as 'Lieutenant' Ghost. Simon in private. He even started to walk with you in silence sometimes.

Things got 'better' as the casualties got more and more. Until the very last casualty that Ghost even got into your office.

The morgue was once again especially cold, one less set of lungs breathing to warm up the air around, less voice to speak and bother as you put on your gloves to cut off the balaclava from the British man's face.

the black, and now red, piece of clothing barely held together what was supposed to be his head. A gruesome view. Your cold hands went around through his whole body to check if there was any chance it didn't happen like that. That maybe there was a traitor, a mole, a stupid fucking rat who managed to get a shotgun to the Lieutenants throat. But there was nothing but bloody slashes on the limbs and tightened rope patterns on the man's neck. The papers you needed to write for that were as clear as day.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley status has been changed to 'deceased by method of Suicide'.

Report filed by.. [text unreadable]

[lemonwrap]

Thinking about Ghostsoap but with Ellie’s “Everyone I have cared for has either died or left me. Everyone—fucking except for you!”

[frogish-person]

Dead men don’t need saving.

dramatic bitch

(@sunshowersanddandelionwine psst.)

[darth-mortem]

This is a first chapter of my COD fic "At the Crossroads of the Worlds" translated bu @g8se.

Task force "141" was sent to clean up a secret laboratory, the research of which was financed by states recognized as sponsors of terrorism. The soldiers broke into a bunker located in the Caucasus Mountains on the Russian-Georgian border. At first, everything went according to plan, but after the fighters split up, Ghost came across a strange room, the door of which locked automatically the moment he was inside. Without knowing it, Simon Riley had set off an experiment that had been brewing here for years, and now he would have to be very strong to finally return home.

Chapter 1 of 6. 2084 words.

Past character death, angst, action, secret lab, experiment, parallel worlds

August 15, 2030. Georgian-Russian border. Caucasus Mountains. Coordinates classified. Experiment status: Prepared for the first stage. Research No. 16/3. Reality LW-414/2030. Attempt to transport into reality LW414/2016.

Captain Simon "Ghost" Riley walked slowly down the corridor, illuminated by the bright, cold light of built-in lamps on the walls and ceiling. He held his assault rifle at the ready and listened to the conversations of other members of Task Force 141 through the earpiece of his radio. The unit had split up ten minutes ago, and its members were now inspecting all levels of the bunker, each carrying out their assigned tasks. Some engaged in clearing operations, facing armed guards head-on, while others searched for information and civilian personnel in this classified scientific facility funded by the budgets of several countries - sponsors of terrorism, including Russia, Iran, Palestine, and several others.

Ghost inspected this level of the bunker alone. The commander of Task Force 141, Major Price, had ordered the soldiers to form groups of two or three, but Simon didn’t follow this order. He hadn't followed them for seven years since that fateful day, when a bullet from the Russian terrorist Makarov's pistol took the life of Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish.

For Ghost, John wasn't just a partner or a fellow soldier; he was the one who saw beyond the terrifying skull mask and recognized a human in him. He made Simon feel alive again. John reminded him of how to be happy, laugh, and love. He was Ghost's personal ray of sunshine, and when he was gone, the light went out forever.

Riley couldn't come to terms with it and continue to live a full life. He kept his distance from everyone and didn't even try to socialize with the new members of the unit. People came and went, and Simon didn't even bother to remember their faces. At some point, he considered leaving the army altogether, but then he realized that he didn't know how to do anything else, so he stayed. The only person Simon occasionally spoke to outside of missions was Price. He knew that Simon felt guilty for John's death, which is why he turned a blind eye to Ghost's insubordination, especially considering that he was still the most effective member of Task Force 141.

The doors to his right of swung open, and his reflexes kicked in before his brain. The man in a white lab coat received a devastating blow to the face with the butt of the rifle and fell like a felled tree. Captain Riley dragged him into the room he had emerged from and quickly secured him to a pipe using plastic ties.

“Bravo 0-7, took another one,” Ghost reported over the radio. “Checking the last rooms on the sixth level.”

“Copy, Bravo 0-7,” he heard Price's response. “Try to find out what they were up to. We're almost done clearing the fifth level and heading down to you. Copy?”

“Crystal clear,” Ghost frowned, and the corners of his lips under the mask drooped. “Bravo 0-7, out.”

He didn't need assistance. Riley could handle it on his own and escort the captives. But he never argued with Price during missions. Ghost might not follow his orders, but for other soldiers, the authority of the major had to remain unquestionable.

After surveying the room, Ghost went out and headed towards the last set of doors at the end of the corridor. Behind them, was a desolated room in absolute chaos. Chairs were scattered on the floor, papers strewn about, monitors partially turned off, only a few displaying some unintelligible numbers and symbols that constantly changed each other. There could be something useful here, but before sitting at the computer and attempting to extract information, Ghost moved towards another set of doors in the far corner of the room. These were massive air-tight doors with a complex opening mechanism. Opposite them stood a table with several monitors, and looking at them, Simon understood that one of them seemingly transmitted views from several cameras installed in the room behind the mysterious doors. Why this was necessary, the captain did not understand, as the small room behind the doors was absolutely empty. Its walls were covered in some silvery material, thick wires protruding in places. Also, Riley noticed several panels with small screens and numerous LED indicators.

“Bravo 0-7,” Ghost spoke, examining the locking mechanism of the air-tight doors on the room's interior monitor, “it seems I've found something.”

“What exactly, Bravo 0-7?” Price asked.

“Don't know yet,” Riley replied. “Trying to figure it out.”

“Be careful,” the major said. “Bravo 6, out.”

Simon glanced at the other monitors. Two code designations immediately caught his eye: LW414/2030 and LW414/2016. A progress bar flickered between them, showing ninety-eight percent, followed by calculations of adjustments in meters and, for some reason, in hours. Simon couldn't comprehend what it was exactly because everything was encrypted. He tried to look at the papers, but it was even worse, so without further delay, Riley approached the air-tight doors and pulled the lever of the opening mechanism.

As soon as he entered the small square room, Simon smelled the electrified air. An orange light started flashing above the door, and instead of the voices of the soldiers he heard a buzzing noise of interference in his earpiece. Some contour that ran around the entire perimeter of the room opened after the doors were unlocked and now lit up in red. A mechanical female voice from a speaker hidden somewhere in the wall began to repeat something persistently in a language Ghost did not know, and then the doors automatically closed, and the lever of the mechanism moved into the "locked" position. The contour closed, its colour changed from red to green, and the voice from the speaker said something else, after which it started a countdown.

“Fucking hell,” Riley cursed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and rushing towards the doors. “Bravo 0-7 calling Bravo 6! Bravo 6, can you hear me?”

There was no response. There wasn't even interference, just dead silence. Ghost grabbed the lever, tried to turn it, but all in vain, despite the fact that the captain was a very physically strong person.

The electrifying sensation intensified. The air distinctly smelled of ozone, and sparks began to run along the walls following complex and tangled contours. Riley retreated to the centre of the room, gritting his teeth. The room was too small to blast the doors, and they were so massive that it might not work anyway. The countdown continued, electrical discharges intensified, and then Ghost saw how the laces of his boots lifted into the air. The same happened with other elements of his gear – at first with smaller items, but gradually even heavier objects, like his assault rifle, which the lieutenant grabbed by the strap and pulled towards himself.

“Bravo 6,” Ghost tried once more without any hope, “John, can you hear me? Respond!”

The captain felt his feet lifting off the floor, where lines of contours were also glowing. Numbers and symbols appeared on the screens of the panels, all indicators lit up green, and then the accumulated static turned into a powerful electrical arc that pierced Ghost's body, sending him into oblivion.

Consciousness returned to him slowly but surely. Riley felt the cold wind piercing through his clothes and gear. Somewhere nearby, he could hear rumbling, and these sounds seemed familiar, but Ghost couldn't recall what exactly could be the source.

Captain Riley could only open his eyes on the third attempt. Above him was the overcast sky shrouded in led clouds. He lay on the ground, arms outstretched, listening to the rumbling of... the helicopter rotor!

Simon didn't understand what was happening. He remembered being trapped in a small room deep underground in the bunker. He remembered something strange happening to him, a jolt of wildly powerful electricity, and... he found himself here. And now, as he slightly raised himself and looked around, Ghost realized where exactly this "here" was. The landscape around him was familiar – it was what the members of Task Force 141 saw when they landed and headed towards the entrance to the bunker. Perhaps, Major Price or someone from the team managed to open those doors from the outside. They found Ghost in the blackout and brought him to the surface. So, the helicopter he hears is their evacuation transport.

Having reasoned this way, Ghost stood up, hoisted his assault rifle, and headed towards the sound. Of course, it was strange to be left alone here, but perhaps the soldiers were occupied with captives, and someone went for supplies. Captain Riley, however, felt better, and overall quite normal for someone who got electrocuted. The radio was still silent, but Simon had already climbed a small hill, saw the helicopter, and people around. Captain Riley was about to shout that he was okay when suddenly he realized that these people were not members of Task Force 141. Moreover, it seemed they were enemies. They surrounded two soldiers, one of whom seemed to be seriously injured. The other was supporting him on his shoulders and wouldn't have time to grab his weapon when one of the men – presumably the leader – pulled out his pistol and pointed it at his chest.

Simon didn't know what was happening, but he saw a patch with the British flag on the sleeve of the man the other was aiming at. Without thinking for another second, Captain Riley swung his assault rifle off his shoulder, released the safety, and, chambering a round, fired a short burst into the air, drawing attention to himself.

They started to shoot at Ghost, so he ran, ducking and returning fire, and when the distance closed, he pulled out and threw several metal knives one after another, reducing the number of enemies. The soldier with the British flag carefully laid his comrade on the ground and remained by his side, also starting to return fire. Now Ghost could see his balaclava with a skull print and the bald head of the enemy leader, who, realizing that something had gone awry, was trying to retreat to the helicopter.

"Hey, you!" Ghost found himself next to the guy in the balaclava and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Kill the pilot! Come on, let's go!"

He nodded and ran around the helicopter. Captain Riley stayed with the wounded soldier and quickly replaced the magazine in his rifle. Meanwhile, the bald man turned around, raising his pistol again, and Ghost froze, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"Shepherd?" he finally exclaimed. "It can't be!"

After Johnny’s death, Price himself killed the traitor of a general with his own hands, yet here he was, staring at Ghost with a cold gaze and aiming a pistol at him.

A gunshot echoed. The bullet hit Simon in the chest, but it didn't get through the armoured plate. Captain Riley, purely on reflexes, returned fire. A burst from his assault rifle tore through Shepard's body, and he fell. Another soldier in a balaclava was already running toward Riley, wielding his weapon.

"Shepard is a traitor!" he shouted. "I just received a message from the captain!"

"We need to get out of here," Ghost got up, rubbing his chest. "Let's carry your friend into the heli. Provide him with first aid. I'll take the pilot's seat. Just tell me where to fly."

Two soldiers, both hiding their faces behind skull masks, picked up the third one and brought him into the helicopter. The situation was strange, even wild, but Simon strangely felt neither suspicion nor doubt towards his new companion. On the contrary, this man seemed eerily familiar and inspired absolute trust in Simon. And it appeared that the guy in the balaclava felt the same way about Riley. He didn't ask who his unexpected rescuer was or where he came from, haven’t even asked for Ghost's name. However, Ghost didn't waste time on etiquette either. After receiving the coordinates for the flight, Riley focused on piloting the helicopter, glancing at the dashboard. Somewhere there, they would meet a captain, likely the leader of these two soldiers. Most likely, he could clarify the situation and provide Ghost with information about what happened to TF 141 and where to find them.

“We’re almost there,” Ghost reported, having replaced his dead radio with the one that belonged to the pilot of this helicopter. “How's your friend?”

“Solid,” came the response. “Our guys are already waiting, so land here!”

“Roger that,” Riley replied briefly and started to land, glancing at the two soldiers who were waving at the helicopter.

[gunnrblze]

Ghost members as Ghost songs. Based on the overall vibe&the lyrics

Hesh-Call Me Little Sunshine

Logan-Darkness At The Heart Of My Love

Elias-Absolution

Merrick-Rats

Keegan- From The Pinnacle To The Pit

Kick- Square Hammer

Rorke-I’m A Marionette

I’m hurting my own feelings with this one LMAO.

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side Stories

Story III: Gaz

[Konchar] [Graves] [AO3]

I worked on both this and that Ghost painting I posted earlier in the time I was away from this blog, and I apparently had enough motivation to finish both today haha

If you remember the conversation Gaz and Soap had on the helo in chapter 14 of Not Alive, Nor Dead (the one where they were talking about the worst time they've used their powers), then the events in this story might be familiar...

I enjoyed writing this so much, I absolutely love Gaz (and more specifically rev AU's version of him <3)

Alright enough yapping time for pain

Kyle should be used to the feeling of free-falling. To the air rushing past his ears, to the sting in his eyes as the ground approaches him rapidly. The pull that catches him not a moment too soon, invisible ribbons wrapping him in their safe embrace.

It was perhaps a little naive of him to think gravity will never betray him again.

The whistling wind is what wakes him first, that familiar tune Gaz made his own in the past year. Familiar, but out of place - wasn’t he just running after the HVT…?

Kyle opens his eyes.

The sky warps around him, skyscrapers higher than the heavens towering over him like giants, silhouettes in the night. His body twists uncontrollably, and his view shifts to the ground, people nothing but ants, growing larger and larger-

The sinking feeling in his gut screams one thing, and one thing only.

You’re going to die again.

Several hours earlier

“Sergeant Garrick!” someone calls from behind him. Gaz turns, expecting to have to search for the source in the pre-mission rush of soldiers. He instead instantly zeroed in on a frankly giant man. To his credit, he wasn’t expecting a soldier clad in all black tactical gear, and a stark white skull mask.

Well, only one guy in the SAS that fits this description, “Lieutenant Ghost, sir.” Gaz’s head tilts up to look at the eyes behind the mask.

He’s heard a lot about the legendary revenant, and while most are probably the works of the rumor mill working overtime, just the presence of Ghost emanates a sort of unrivalled power that raises the hairs at Kyle’s nape.

It’s unlikely any of them will see the Lieutenant in action today; he’s here to fill in for Captain Price in overwatch, but he can’t help but have a sort of morbid curiosity, a craving to know if the revenant lives up to the myth.

Ghost motions with his head for him to follow, and begins walking towards the tents that have been set up as their temporary base of operations, “Captain told me you can fly.” he begins.

Gaz smiles nervously, “uh, not exactly. I got gravity manipulation.” they enter the tent, the flurry of activity as disorienting as it is outside, with squad leaders confirming last-minute details about the mission. “Can use it on others as well, but I have to be in direct skin contact.”

“Won’t need it in this op either way,” Ghost rumbles, a somewhat bitter note in his words. A few men do a double take at the two of them, and Gaz suppresses an eye roll.

Being a revenant turned out… different than he thought it would be. Sure, he knew they had superpowers and the ability to converse with extradimensional beings, but he wasn’t ready for the staring.

He knows he’s not human anymore, that he lost a fundamental part of himself the moment he left that helo crash alive, but he doesn’t need to be reminded at any turn.

Perhaps Ghost is onto something with the mask. At least he can roll his eyes all he wants.

Ghost addresses the soldiers in the tent, everyone snapping into attention, “Sergeant Garrick will lead the infil team. Target is at the suite of the Amandi Hotel, possibly guarded and armed.” the Lieutenant scrutinizes them, “I’ll be on overwatch on the comms tower north of the hotel. Helo circles the sky in case we need to extract from the roof.”

He crosses his arms, the perfect image of authority, “any questions?”

“No, sir!” the soldiers in the tent echo.

“Good. Garrick’s team is up in 5.” Ghost’s attention turns to him, “you’ll treat the Sergeant like any other soldier - his powers are irrelevant here.”

Gaz’s eyes widen as the rest of his squad gives Ghost the affirmative. The Lieutenant leaves the tent, ordering the others, and he shakes away from his stupor. A surprisingly warm feeling spreads through his chest.

No time to wonder about Ghost’s intentions, they have a man to catch.

It takes only ten minutes for the mission to go completely off rails.

Ghost wasn’t lying when he said his powers are irrelevant here. With the narrow hallways of the hotel, and lack of loose, heavy objects around ready to be thrown, Gaz is as good as any of his human squad mates.

He grits his teeth, popping out of cover to shoot yet another henchman down. The HVT must be bloody loaded to afford this much manpower.

“Be advised Bravo 6-1, enemy reinforcements approaching your position. I don’t have a clear shot on them.” Ghost’s low voice sounds from his comms.

Gaz returns to cover when a bullet grazes his cheek, and he answers between a hiss of pain, “copy, attempting to advance to the suite now.”

“Stevenson, Ellis, take the left hallway, the rest with me!” Kyle orders the corporals. He’s betting on the fact the henchmen will be too preoccupied with their assault to notice the two soldiers flanking them.

Gaz and his team goes on the offensive, unnerved by the bullets ricocheting around them. A few fast heartbeats later, the hostiles go down with gasps of surprise. He allows himself a moment of celebration, before pushing onwards.

This is another thing he had to learn in his new second life. Turns out, the brass promotes revenants faster than other soldiers, and soon after his Reaping he was promoted to Sergeant. He will probably never forget the nasty looks he got from his old mates after that, people he thought were his friends. Sometimes Kyle wanted to scream that he didn’t ask for this, he didn’t ask to be the only one left alive.

Usually following that thought is a reminder that he very much did. He asked to live. 

Gaz knew what he was wishing for.

Stevenson and Ellis join them, and he makes sure to order most of the squad to watch their six, Ghost’s warning still fresh in his mind.

“Lieutenant, got sights on the HVT?” Gaz radios in.

The comms crackle before he gets an answer, “negative, he went to the back two minutes ago, likely holing up in the bathroom.” he can hear the faint sound of wind through his mic, “stay sharp, this might be a trap.”

“Understood, sir.” 

Gaz holds a fist up to signal the squad to stop, and attempts to listen for any movements inside the suite. Price’s mind reading abilities would’ve been nice to have around right about now…

He lets out a shaky breath. Going in blind never gets less nerve wracking, “Smith, Farage, keep watch on the hallways, Ellis, Stevenson and Wright, prepare for breach in three…”

The soldiers move to their positions, and the moment his count reaches zero, Gaz kicks the door down and begins clearing the room. Every dark corner becomes a potential hiding spot for hostiles, every flickering shadow catches his attention.

The main area of the suite is an open floor plan room, floor-to-ceiling windows making up the whole front part. The city lights twinkle through the clear glass, unaware of the danger that dwells above them.

“Main room clear, moving to the bathroom.” Gaz relays to Ghost and the rest. He lowers his rifle and reaches for the handle. The door creaks ominously when he shoves it open, revealing a dark and completely empty space. He clears it in a few seconds, all the while his confusion grows.

“Ghost” he clicks his comms on, “the HVT isn’t here.”

The Lieutenant is silent for a brief moment, “He didn’t leave the suite, Garrick. Keep searching the other rooms.” Gaz opens his mouth to give the affirmative, when he hears Wright and Stevenson give the clear for the two bedrooms. A twisting feeling in his gut grows.

“Sir, I think we’re missing something-”

Loud bangs echo from the main bedroom, Gaz instantly exiting the bathroom to watch Stevenson go down, “fuck!”

Hostiles stream out of the room in an endless swarm, the rest of his squad taking cover around the suite. “Garrick! What the fuck is going on there?!”

“Stevenson missed a bloody secret room, sir!” Gaz grunts, shooting two men down. From the corner of his eye, he sees Wright push forward, so he joins him.

A shattering sound alerts him to Ghost’s shots, “do you have eyes on the target?!” the Lieutenant’s voice echoes through comms. Another shot rings out, and a body drops to his right.

“Negative!” he answers. Smith and Farage are fighting further out, enemies forcing them back to the hallway, Stevenson motionless on the ground. Wright snarls beside him, his left arm bleeding from a graze. Ellis…

“Sergeant! Behind you!” Ghost shouts. Gaz whips around, to watch the HVT drag himself to the broken windows.

Himself, and the unconscious body of Ellis. Gaz charges forward before the HVT locks eyes with him, a manic sort of fury burning within them.

The bastard smiles at him, blood staining his bright white teeth. He heaves Ellis, dragging him right to the edge.

“You take one more step, and I drop your friend.” the target drawls. 

Kyle stops, raising his arms in surrender, mind rapidly trying to pinpoint the location of each hostile and soldier left in the room. If he could be sure his squad will be able to apprehend the HVT by themselves, he could be free to follow Ellis, and catch him before they both hit the ground.

“Alright.” Gaz swallows thickly, keeping his voice as calm as he can, “we’ll give you what you want, just let him go.”

The target’s smile widens, “tell your soldiers to drop their weapons” he shakes Ellis, Gaz’s heart jumping to his throat. He nods, slowly lowering a hand to his radio.

“All stations, hold fire, we’ve got a hostage.”

The commotion behind him stops abruptly, his soldiers murmuring in confusion but listening to him all the same. Gaz scans the HVT for weapons - a pistol at his right hip, a knife strapped to the other. As long as he doesn’t use those on Ellis, he still has a chance to save him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here.” Ghost warns, “I don’t have a clear shot, don’t doom the entire squad to save one man.”

His jaw tightens in response. He’s not going to allow any more of them to die today.

“Good” the target’s voice drips with satisfaction, “at least one of you soldier boys has more than half a brain. Now… I have other matters to attend to, so if you will leave the premises peacefully, that would be helpful.”

“Not without him.” Gaz motions to Ellis.

The HVT tsks, “do I look stupid? I know you’ll shoot my men down the moment I let him go.” his head tilts mockingly, “no, he’s coming with me.”

“Garrick…” Ghost growls. “Ellis’ chances are low. Get the HVT secure and get out.” This is taking too long.

“I prefer to have… insurance.” the target continues.

Gaz’s lips pull back in disgust, “for a cornered man, you’re asking for a lot, mate.”

“Am I cornered, though?”

The telltale click of a trigger shoots adrenaline down Kyle’s limbs, and he moves out of the bullet’s way a second before it reaches him. He grunts as he grasps at the attacker’s rifle over his shoulder, twisting it around his torso to disarm the man.

Lieutenant Ghost’s voice booms through comms, “Bravo, get your guns up! More hostiles are entering your floor!!!”

Gaz barely avoids a fist coming from his left, ducking and dodging a knee to his guts. Gunshots echo behind him, grunts and growls and screams of pain almost deafening.

Two hostiles manage to get a hold of him, and over their massive shoulders Kyle watches in horror as the target pulls Ellis up over the window’s edge, and lets go.

“Corporal Ellis is falling, I repeat, the Corporal is falling!” Ghost yells. Gaz’s heart hammers away at his chest, his breaths becoming shorter and heavier.

Through the cacophony of combat, anger and agony, one voice stands out from the rest.

The HVT’s mirthful laugh, high and grating as he watches Ellis fall down, down, down-

Gaz screams, grabbing the arms around him, and reverting gravity on all three of them. He lowers his head, avoiding the ceiling. His attackers, however, are taken by surprise, and hit their head against the concrete with a sickening thunk.

The laughter ceases, but he pays it no mind. If Gaz jumps off now, he could strengthen the effect of gravity on himself, and fall faster, reach Ellis before the ground does-

A sniper shot splices the air beside him, the bullet hitting the floor, Ghost’s voice loud when he calls out, “Gaz-!”, Kyle turning around to find the stock of a rifle approaching his face, his foot slips, and-

His vision goes dark.

He’s going to die. The wind beats at his body, howling and shrieking and stealing the air from his lungs. He’s going to die. The city lights smear and create blinding trails at his periphery.

He’s going to die.

Kyle locks onto a dark shape, several feet below him, and the fog of panic clears for long enough for him to remember why he’s falling.

Ellis. He fell before him. He’s going to die.

But Gaz won’t. His powers rush forth, otherworldly ribbons wrapping around his fingertips at his command. Instead of hanging from the sky, he orders them down.

They’re about 100 feet from the harsh asphalt roads when he starts descending at an inhuman speed, eyes watering and muscles trembling from the lack of oxygen, but it doesn’t matter, not until he touches Ellis, not until he pulls him back from certain death.

50 feet. 40. 30. 20. 10-

Kyle barely manages to brush a finger on Ellis’ tacvest before he pulls back, his face mere inches from the ground. His eyes are closed, his mouth gaping as he takes in air for the first time in minutes.

He heard the crunch. He knows his ribbons didn’t wrap around Ellis. Yet, there’s a little naive voice in his mind, holding onto hope that the Corporal has been saved.

The screams of the ground team tell him otherwise.

Kyle releases his powers, his body dropping. Voices echo around him, words unintelligible through the rushing blood in his ears.

Ellis is dead. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. You failed again, he screams at himself in the recesses of his mind.

Kyle chokes on a sob, only then registering the tears flowing down his cheeks. He curls further into himself. Selfishly, he doesn’t want the others to see his pathetic crying. Not only did he fail, he’s also weak.

Someone touches his shoulder, and he freezes. His eyes are glued to the dark grey of the road below him, its rough texture digging into his trembling palms. The voices stray closer, words still incomprehensible but concern clear, and yet he refuses to lift his head.

He doesn’t want to see Ellis. He knows what gravity does to a person, how it tugs at their limbs until they break, how bones stab at soft flesh, how muscles are ripped apart like a rag doll’s stitches. He knows, saw five different bodies, all twisted beyond recognition, by the very power he controls. The memory makes bile rise to his mouth, acrid taste spreading on his tongue. The sight of mangled soldiers, the smell of burning fuel, the whistle of an RPG.

If only he was strong enough to truly control it.

The hands tug at him more forcibly now, attempting to roll him over, but Kyle resists. His mouth tries to form words, but only whines and muted sobs stream from his clenched teeth.

‘Leave me alone’, he wants to whisper. ‘I already know I failed’.

A deeper voice rumbles above him, and the hands stop and leave. Kyle hears the rustling of fabric before the voice begins calling his name.

“-arrick. Sergeant. We need to know if you’re broken.”

He shakes his head, shoulders shuddering along his sobs.

“You’re not injured? Good.” the voice answers calmly, as if they’re not sitting beside a dead body, blood pooling, bones sticking out of place-

“Stay with me, soldier. Focus on me.” the voice orders, and Kyle knows, somewhere in his fractured mind, that he needs to listen.

He risks lifting his gaze a little towards the voice, a knee clad in dark pants coming into view, “you’re safe, Gaz. Take all the time you need to collect yourself. The others won’t bother you now.”

He nods minutely, wanting to show his gratitude to the voice, but refusing to lift his head any higher.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Kyle tries to keep his focus on the person in front of him, but his brain continues to pull at his thoughts, get them to drift to Ellis, his cooling body dead not 3 feet from them-

“You know why blind people don’t like going skydiving?”

Kyle blinks down at his hands. What…?

“‘Cause it scares the shit outta their dogs.”

…That’s the dumbest joke he’s ever heard. What’s dumber, that it’s actually making him huff in amusement.

“That deserves at least a little laugh.” the voice sulks, the deadpan quality of it making their words funnier to Kyle.

He clears his throat before saying, “all that deserves is a groan of disappointment, Lieutenant.”

His head lifts to look at Ghost’s dark eyes behind his skull mask, “you wound my poor feeble heart, Garrick.”

A wobbly smile spreads on his lips, before he slowly looks away from the Lieutenant at the scene around them.

They must’ve already moved the body, leaving dark red blood seeping into the cracks in the road as the only sign anything went wrong. Some combat medics have stayed behind, but from the look on their face Kyle can tell they’re too afraid of Ghost to get any closer.

He casts a questioning look at the Lieutenant, who sighs, “they shouldn’t toss you around while you’re in shock.”

Kyle frowns, “they didn’t ‘toss me around’, but… thanks.”

Ghost simply hums.

It takes him a few more seconds to gather the courage to ask, “the mission… did it fail?”

Did I make us fail?

Ghost regards him with narrowed eyes, “HVT has been secured and is in transport awaiting questioning.”

He lets out a small sigh of relief, nodding.

The Lieutenant stares at him, “you did everything you could, Gaz.” he opens his mouth to disagree, but Ghost lifts a hand, “no. Ellis was dead the moment he was captured. If I was in your position, I wouldn’t have risked the mission, the team, myself to try and save him against the odds.”

Kyle sputters, “but- I didn’t save him.”

“But you tried.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s dead!”

Ghost’s tone lowers dangerously, “it may not matter to Ellis, but to the rest of your squad? His teammates? They know you tried, and they will remember in the future that Sergeant Garrick will endanger his own life for his subordinates.”

Kyle’s eyes widen, Ghost’s voice gaining a somber tone, “you haven’t had a lot of experience in leading.” he half-states, half-asks, so Kyle shakes his head.

“The trust your men have in you is fragile, and invaluable. Today, you’ve gained something many others can’t. You have respect, the kind that is hard-earned in battle.” His eyes look away, lost in memories Kyle will probably never be privy to, “that’s why it matters.”

He thinks back to the way everyone approaches Ghost, fear and awe in their eyes, “are you talking from experience?”

Ghost’s eyes refocus on him, “my soldiers respect me because I’m powerful. They respect me out of terror, not trust.”

“Respect is respect, no?”

“None of them would risk their lives to save mine, if it came to it.” Ghost rises to his feet, “respect born of fear is weak compared to respect born from admiration.”

A gloved hand, adorned with skeletal markings, is offered to him. Kyle takes it, allowing Ghost to pull him up to his own shaky legs.

Gaz takes a good look at the grotesque mask, at the appearance that signals danger and unmatched strength. 

And at the hand in his, grip powerful enough that he doesn’t have any doubt it will catch him if he falls.

“I trust you, Lieutenant.”

Ghost freezes, before he begins walking towards the parked vehicles, “your mistake, Sergeant.”

Gaz follows, believing wholeheartedly in his words.

“I’m planning on building a task force.” Price begins the moment Gaz settles into the office chair in front of him, “a revenant-only task force.”

“And you’re inviting me?” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Kyle, we both know your powers are extremely rare.”

Still, to be chosen by the Captain Price out of everyone…

“You’re giving me too much credit, son.” Price’s moustache twitches up with a hidden smirk, “I’ll take it as a yes?”

Gaz nods resolutely, “yes, sir!”

“That’s what I want to hear. Any questions?”

The words “no, sir” are ready on his tongue, but he retracts them to instead ask, “are there any other members yet?”

Price scans him for a moment, before he pulls out a folder, “you remember Ghost, I presume?”

He can see how Price clocks in the excitement in his mind, “of course.”

A warm smile crinkles Price’s blue eyes. He rises, offering Gaz a hand to shake. Gaz takes it.

“Welcome to Taskforce 141, Kyle.”

[remotewatch]

I wish tumblr gave you better access to analytics bc I want to make a pie chart of what fandoms interact with Jack’s fics (so far it’s a swiftie and F1 sweep with hockey and matthew gray gubler Stan’s gunning for second)

[mossyfart]

[buglord-isaac]

Parallel Play: Ghost and König

König wasn’t the best at socialising. He had never really gotten the chance to improve his social skills. He had gone from being isolated and bullied in his early life to being isolated and denied what he wanted to do in his military life. He was ridiculed for hiding, he was ridiculed for being big. He was called a ‘mountain’. ‘Psychopath’. ‘Scary‘.

He had grown used to the feeling of being alone so much that he no longer knew how to talk to people. He knew more how to talk to himself. He was horrible in conversations. He had no military ‘bros’ that he could chat to. Talking in a group was a chore that left him tired and defeated.

This was until he met Ghost. Well, he didn’t really meet Ghost. They passed each other, they trained a few times, they barely spoke. Ghost seemed to be the closest kind of person to König that he had ever found. He, like himself, would stand away from a crowd and listen, only speaking when he needed to.

In the base, both of them seemed to have found the same special quiet place. A place were the rest of the soldiers seldom went, and if they went they were quiet. This place was the Chapel.

König wasn’t a religious man, and Ghost didn’t seem to pray or talk to any gods. It was just a place of peace for them. Ghost would sit there sharpening his weapons or inspecting clothing, seemingly as a calming method. König would do the same. Sometimes they’d look over to watch what the other was doing from afar. They never spoke.

One day, when König was reading a book about weapons, in a chapter on sniper mechanics - his hyperfixation - Ghost came and sat on the floor right in front of him. König looked up from his book and closed it, keeping one of his fingers in as a bookmark.

“You heard of something called ‘parallel play’?”

“Nein. I haven’t.”

“The others talk too much, and you seem rather lonely. ‘Parallel play’ is where two people do different things in each other’s presence. It’s like… socialising without socialising. I find it comforting.”

König had no clue why Ghost was suddenly talking so much to him. Maybe his silence had earned the man’s respect. Or pity…

“So you’re suggesting we do this- parallel play?”

Ghost nodded, shuffled backwards, and pulled out one of his knives. König watched awkwardly as Ghost focussed on methodically sharpening, polishing, and inspecting each of his knives. He recognised the kind of knife from his book, so flicked to the page.

“The adoption of combat daggers made of iron was a significant milestone in combat knife development… the British Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife… not the kind you have… was designed by two former members of the Shanghai Municipal Police who trained many soldiers in close-quarters fighting… The Combat Knife has two modes of attack: the simple slash, which can be done quite rapidly, and a lunge, a longer-ranged option that has a much slower recovery than the slash… you seem to be good at throwing th-“

He realised that he’d been rambling and shut his mouth quickly. He looked down at Ghost, who was looking up at him with full attention and focus.

“You can continue. Knives are my special interest. Hearing someone else explain them is… refreshing almost…”

König blinked. He swallowed. He didn’t want to talk anymore. His ramble had exhausted his social battery completely. Ghost stood up and sat on the bench beside him.

“This book is in German… you were translating all of that?”

König nodded. “Yes sir…”

“You impress me, König. We should talk more.”

Under his mask, König smiled. He’d made a friend, and out of everyone it could’ve been, it was Ghost.

(The information I got was from various wikis, incl. CoD wiki and combat knife wiki)

[crowflesh]

Help it's midnight and I'm brainrotting

Ok so consider a call of duty highschool/teen dungeons and dragons au (a lot going on I know but bear with me)

So we have Gaz, Ghost, and Farah who are siblings, all adopted by Price. Gaz and Soap were in art club together in highschool where they then became friends. Gaz has kept trying to convince Soap to join his siblings and their friends (Alex, Alejandro, and Rudy) dnd campaign. Soap thinks it'd be fun but is kind of intimidated by Gaz's kinda cool and really intimidating older brother (whom of which he's only really met in passing when visiting Gaz's place or passing him in the hallways at school ((he also may have a teeny tiny crush on him but it's not like he's gonna admit that)). He also just doesn't know jack shit about dnd and doesn't wanna somehow fuck uo the game (he also doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Ghost but shhhh)

Eventually, during the summer after graduation, Soap finally relents and decides that he'll come over and watch them play just to see what's up cause, at this point, they're already in a middle of a campaign and it'd be sorta awkward to introduce a new player. Soap promises if he's interested enough he'll join in on the next campaign and he'll come over and watch this coming weekend.

The weekend finally rolls around, after a week of nerves and second guessing, and Soap heads down into Gaz's basement to find everyone already there and the dnd table set up. They get everything ready and start right where they left off last week and come to find out Ghost is the dm and also a huge fucking nerd. He apparently is an avid critical roll and dimension 20 fan and takes inspiration from them (which is apparent in his story telling and weirdly accurate sound effects). Soap is impressed and actually finds himself invested in the story and the characters.

Before he knows it, hours pass by and Soap is hooked. So, he comes back around the next week, and the next, and the next. All through out this time, Soap and Ghost end up getting closer and become friends and kinda joined at the hip. Soap's (definitely not) crush (definitely does not shut up) gets kinda worse. Which, you can't really blame him, Ghost is a huge nerd, all dorky, and is kinda awkward, but it's all so endearing and cute. They have similar interests and similar music tastes and they just click in a way that neither have them were really expecting. But it's more than welcome to both of them. Near the end of the summer (and the campaign) they get so close and Soap just can't let his feelings fester anymore and he just blurts em out.

Ghost and Soap were cleaning up the table after a session and everyone went home and Soap pauses. He takes a good hard look at Ghost while he's fidgeting with a d20 and just, without thinking, says something like "I really wanna be your boyfriend" which causes Ghost to stop what he's doing and stare back at Soap. Soap blinks and realizes what he just said and drops the d20 onto the table (he rolls a nat 20 btw) and starts stuttering and trying to apologize and leave but Ghost grabs him by the hood of his jacket and pulls him in close and says "I...want to be your boyfriend too". Soap and Ghost are both flustered and blushing messes and Farah eventually comes down to tell em to shut up and go to bed.

By the end of the summer, Ghost and Soap are together and Soap gets to join in on their next campaign :)

[eiraeths]

do y’all ever think abt how in the og modern warfare how after price kills makarov he smokes a cigar in front of his body and its the same cigars soap would smoke when he was thinking abt and missing price

[winterwandersland]

i love a good movie parallel, so i am currently trying to incorporate them into my writing. however, idk if parallels are recognized as easily as they are in movies. we’ll see as the story goes on.

[mottemort]

blonde and exhausted Reiner and Ghost

tall and shy Bertholdt and König