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Cod Ghost - Blog Posts
He look sooo good 😊
If I had brain worms over a specific TF 141 au in mah lil wrinkly brain, who would y'all like me to draw first? I think it's an original au, I haven't seen anything of it before
Please anyone who sees this reblog it cause I'm rlly rlly curious how this'll turn out, thanks!
Look at hiiiim! Such a pretty lad! Gonna give him a smooch if johnny don't get to him first-
Simons tattoos! i have always seen him w neck/chest tattoos but i finally got around to drawing them :]
I don't know if I'm reading too much into this, but I came back to this comic after the final part was released and noticed that the ghost finger puppet thingy is kept separate from the rest of the 141. And for those who have seen part 3... well...
If that was intended foreshadowing, I'm screaming , kicking my feet and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure cause FUCKIN' HELL. But if not don't mind me and my brain worms :)
CW:// IMPLIED MCD + ANGST
CW:// IMPLIED MCD + ANGST
So y’all wanted a part 2? Here u go :)
There will be one more part to this whole thing!!
Edit: part 3 is posted🫡
how do we feel about bunnyhybrid!reader and OC (ted)?
masterlist
just imagine sniffing around and finding your way onto random farm. some random ahh guy outside herding some sheep w his farm dogs.. scary but hey.. he's a bit hot in his overalls ngl. he's human tho sooo.. u dont really know how this is gonna go.. but guess what!? you hop over anyway! you made your way over, crunching on some leaves as you tried to sneak up on him, stopping at his feet and observing him from there as he fills up some type of.. bowls? with.. water? for.. whom? they were some big ass bowls so maybe for the dogs? or horses? you take a few steps back and watch him from a corner as he starts moving again.
you continue to watch until you spot the most beautiful strawberry bushes ever, taking your focus off of him for a moment to look at them, wondering how you're gonna get over there and what you're gonna do with the heaps of strawberries. now, with the greed that was building up, thinking about taking all the strawberries for yourself for harvest, you feel a presence, a watcher if you will. and as you get that feeling you're suddenly picked up by.. the farmer!?
"was macht so ein ding wie du hier.." he mutters, examining you. you just let it happen and take this chance to also examine him up close. he's got a little beard coming in. or did he just shave? there stubble so maybe the latter. his skins fair. he doesn't seem harmful at least. as you examine yet again, he's doing the same. looking over your brown coat (which was now your skin) plus your ears and puffy scut (tail) that was sticking out from your rear.
and you just.. sit there as he cradles you in his arms taking you into his home. he places you on a couch and crouches in front of you. "deutsch sprechen?" he says. it sounds foreign but you can understand a bit. you tilt your head, continuing your observation from earlier. "english?" he questions. you understand that clearly, taking some time before responding. "yes.." you practically whisper. "okay." he takes note. "um.. what are.. you doing here?" he asks, taking his time to choose his choice of words. you shrug and blink a bit. "fruit.. bush.. berry." you mutter, words not really making sense since you rarely ever take on your human form.
"beerenstrauch?" he questions himself, trying to figure out what you were talking about. "fruit? um.." he tries to gather words but you beat him to it, clearing things up. "strawberry." you mutter once more. "oh. the strawberry bush. "
🐾; lmk if u want more pls
translation;
germ; "was macht so ein ding wie du hier.."
eng; "what's a thing like you doing here.."
germ; "deutsch sprechen?"
eng; "speak german?"
germ; "beerenstrauch?"
eng; "berry bush?"
ou-la-la, retired Simon with nothing but warm love in his heart.
masterlist
as you slowly blink yourself awake, twisting and turning in bed before you finally decide to get up, simon is already up as usual. his job keeps him on a time routine even when he's not at work. it kinda ticks you off when you wake up and he's not in bed but y'know, who are you to tell him off (his life, his world, his everything)? puffing out before sitting on the side of the bed, you rub the cold out of your eyes, patting your hand on the nightstand beside you to find your glasses only to find they're not there..?
you groan and look over, squinting to see nothing but the quarter gone cup of water you had last night and some candies. you slowly step onto the cold wood floor, seeking out to find simon somewhere in the house.
you hazardly walk around the house, softly calling out for him. "simon, baby?" you continue until he calls back "yeah, luv?" he responds from the front door. "did you leave? have you seen my glasses?" you ask, watching the blurry figure walk toward the living room. "went to tha' shops, got us some matching frames, come sit." you follow the sound, feeling for the couch as you come close then sit next to him. he scoots you close, setting your legs over his as he explains what he's went out to buy. "my eye doctor's told me to go out n' grab my prescription today, i thought i'd go out n' take y'r glasses to switch them out fir a pair of new frames that'll match mine." you nod at the cute idea, suddenly looking down as the sound of wrapping unfolds.
you can get a small glimpse of glasses in a basic frame, clear with black lines inside with an addon of black legs. his were the same, of course but a different shape, the shape most reading glasses are built. yours were your original shape, the one that framed your face nicely. as you hold them in your hands, still observing, simon has already slipped his on, tapping your shoulder to look.
"like em?" the corner of his eyes crinkling as he gives you a small smile, grabbing your glasses to put them on for you. "now y'r almost as cute as me." he chuckles as you playfully hit his shoulder, giggling slightly alongside. "thank you, simon." you peck his cheek and get up, yawning a bit as you walk to your bathroom. "needed anything, woman?" he asks, following behind. "no, I just felt like a baby bird without these." you refer to your glasses, opening the bathroom door. "well you are a bird, my bird." he mumbles, sliding up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist as you began brushing your teeth, nuzzling into the crown of your bonnet, smelling nothing but a mix of gels and a scented edge control you forgot to clean off the night before.
"you're such an old man."
ＨＯＭＥＰＡＧＥ
‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙ ✮ ̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿ ‿ ✮ ̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻
𝔸𝔹𝕆𝕌𝕋 𝕄𝔼
ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ! 🍒
ɪ ᴘʟᴀʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇꜱ (ᴄᴏᴅ, ʀᴇ, ᴛᴏᴍʙ ʀᴀɪᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ)
ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ chicana
ɪ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴏᴄᴋ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ🎸
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𝔼𝕏𝕋ℝ𝔸/𝕆𝕋ℍ𝔼ℝ
ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ɴɪᴄᴇ! ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ɪ ɢᴇᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴍʙᴀʀʀᴀꜱꜱᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴍʏ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ!
ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ🩶
Rules for requesting:
Current WIPs: 𝙻𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚍 𝚂𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑
AAAAAAAAAA
I finished this piece of... ghoap 😇
Ok, so I was looking through a COD Monster AU and she had interesting and creative interpretations regarding to what the characters would be like as this specific monster/hybrid or otherwise.
These characters include:
-Price
-Soap
-Ghost
-Gaz
-Alejandro
-Rodolfo
-Valeria
-Graves
-König
-Horangi
-Laswell (makes a brief appearance but she seemed to stay human)
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So focusing on the 141 members it’s clear she did the ‘19 versions, so no Roach. :’(
(Which is FINE btw, totally understand why she didn’t include Roach, people can include whoever they want in their AU, I’m not hating).
BUT, this fandom seems loose with cannon anyway, so I thought I’d go brainstorming what Roach would be like as a monster/hybrid.
These are my head-cannons:
For the most part it seems like the monster designs retain aspects related to their monster side (claws, wings, talons, scales, fur, shadows, fangs, etc). So going off of that, I’d incorporate that into Roaches design.
First and foremost, Roach has to have his signature antennas. >:DAnd just for fun maybe include insect inspired eyes, and maybe insect wings? Pincers (maybe)? I’ll leave that up for interpretation.
He has an ability to communicate telepathically to roaches. This could be great for spying (Roach has all the tea) and for intimidating the enemy. What’s more terrifying than being bombarded by a huge swarm of roaches? :D
Thought it’d be fun if Roach had a smaller build to him? Like, I’ve seen some fan art where people depict him being a menace by hiding in small crevices and/or cupboards, or somehow ended up hanging in the corner of a ceiling somewhere. I thought that’d be perfect! (I’ll leave that up for interpretation).
Or, OR, let’s go completely off the rails. Since his original design has him mostly covered up, he's just completely made up of roaches that are embodying military suite (Armor? Clothing? Don't know my military term that well).
And like, when first meeting him you're under the impression that he's a human or something but then later on you just see his body burst into an army of roaches, like a hive mind situation. 👀
And like, I’ll leave it up for interpretation if he can still talk or not, since he’s essentially just made up of a swarm of (intelligent) roaches.
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The original maker of this AU is @bluegiragi. Just a heads up, she’s mostly known for making (+18) content. I was intrigued by her character designs and stayed for the lore. 😗
While I’m not too crazy about the erotic side of her work, she is writing an interesting story and am curious where she’ll take it. 👀
(Plus I’m a sucker for a good ghoap story). 😔👉👈
Oh my gosh, WAIT. Another interaction featuring Soaps new skin. They recreate that scene in HTTYD 2 between Stoick and Valka 🫢
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There’s no way. The man who died right in front of his eyes, standing there alive. His sergeant, his teammate, Soap.
Johnny was the only thing that circled in Ghosts head. In disbelief, he slowly approached him. Soap shifted his position, holding his ground as the green smoke illuminated around him.
Soap: “I know what you’re going to say, LT.”
Soap: “How could I have done this? Stayed away all this time. Why didn’t I come back to you?”
He said expectedly.
Ghost continued to slowly walk up to him, not uttering a word. Soap continued to speak, keeping cation as Ghost grew closer.
Soap: “Oh don’t be so Stoic, Ghost. Go on, shout, scream, say something-“
His sentence was cut off as a warm hand cupped his cheek. Soap finally dared to look into Ghost eyes, only seeing nothing but pure love reflecting in them.
Ghost: “You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you…”
Skills include: Off-road "driving"
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Credit: OG Ghost render by Pavseh@deviantart
this is ghosts tinder pfp 100%
Soap, give him tea
filler drawing until i have more ideas :((
in advance, i might do some non-cod related posts soon soooooo stay tuned ig
i've had no inspiratioin since making this account, and now idk how to draw
errr so until my motivation reappears, yall are getting some ugly ass sketches
Sleepless
Ghost never sleeps. At least nobody ever saw him do it. On missions, he'd always take the night watch, the most he did was close his eyes and snooze a bit, immediately waking up if anything happened. When he slept on base, his room was always locked, and he obviously had the room farthest from the rest. Peaks of being a lieutenant. But now here you were, in a safehouse in the middle of nowhere, crammed together in the tight space. Ghost was not pleased, to put it mildly. He didn't show it, but you could see it in the way his jaw clenched under his mask and his voice got even more gruff.
"Y' go to sleep. I'll take the watch", he ordered, sitting down heavily on a chair. "With all due respect, sir, you look like shit. You should sleep a wee bit too", you remarked, looking him up and down. Even with the mask he couldn't hide his tired and droopy eyes. "Watch your mouth, sergeant", he gruffed. You smiled and raised your hands "Just being honest, Lt" An annoyed and tired sigh escaped him. "Go to sleep. Don't make me force ya"
You giggled, but relented. Taking off the heavy vest and settling down on the floor. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, the exhaustion from todays work kicking in.
A loud bang ripped you from your peaceful slumber. You shot up, alarmed, gun at the ready. After a few seconds another bang. Worry set in. Was Ghost in trouble? Had you been discovered?
Quickly you got up, clearing the house. Nothing and no one was there. Until you got to the entrance, where Ghost was set for night guard. You didn't see him immediately, which by his size was hardly possible. He was leaning against a wall, facing the door. As soon as you saw him, you froze. That wasn't Ghost. That wasn't the deadly, tough and cold man you knew. He was scared. Hunched in on himself, arms wrapped around himself, knees pulled up to his chest. He was trembling.
You didn't know what to do, so you just stood there. He shook and trembled like a scared puppy. It hurt to watch him like this. "Ghost?", you asked, carefully. He began muttering under his breath. "No no no no, don't touch me, don't fucking touch me!", his chest began heaving with effort, his fists clenching the fabric of his uniform. You took a step closer to him. "Stop, please stop, it hurts, please!", pleas kept falling from his lips.
Should you wake him up? It didn't seem like a good idea, but he kept banging his head against the wall, which you were sure was too loud for your both sakes.
So you placed a gentle hand on his hand, shaking him slightly. "Ghost? You gotta wake up", his eyes shot open in an instant, they went from fear to rage in a split second. He growled lowly, leaping forward and pinning you on the ground under him, his giant, gloved hand around your throat.
His eyes bore holes into you, but they didn't seem focused. He seemed to be still somewhere else. "Ghost!", you called out, trying to get him to let go of you. No reaction. "Lieutenant!" Still nothing. It became hard to breathe. "Simon, please!" His gaze went sharp, focusing on your eyes.
"Fuck, shit", he cursed, immediately letting go of you. He sat next to you, looking worried. "I-I'm so sorry", he whispered. You could see remorse in his eyes.
"Everything is fine, Ghost, I'm fine", you assured him, despite a blue ring forming around your neck. "No, it's not, I hurt you", his hands reached out to you, without touching you.
"Is that why you never sleep with us (get your mind out of the gutter)?",you asked. He nodded. "I don- I can't. The next time I maybe wake up when it's too late."
You sighed, pulling him to his feet. He looked lost.
"Then I stay awake with you"
Royal guard
Note: I got the idea from a prompt on Pinterest
Ghoap but Soap is a energetic, bored prince and Ghost his stoic, quiet body guard
Soap huffed and rolled his eyes, looking at Ghost in his stupidly body shape enhancing armour. „Would it kill you to relax?“, he teased, knowing Ghost would either not say anything or give a short answer to make him shut up.
„Probably“, Ghost replied, eyes still trained on the wall in front of him. „Likely it would kill you too, that’s rather the point“. Soap let out a groan. „Why do you always act like you got a stick up your arse?“ Silence. „It’s my job to protect you. Not entertain you“. „Why not both? You definitely look like you could be….fun“, Soap shamelessly flirted.
Ghost visibly tensed up at his comment. „Oh, stop clutching your pearls, Ghost.“ He grins. „I‘d know a way or two how I could get you to relax“
Ghost cleared his throat. "This is highly inappropiate" Soap strolled towards Ghost, who stood there as still as a statue. "Oh come on, relax a bit", he grinned. He held out his hand. "Dance with me"
Ghost looked at him with a uncertain expression, but didn't take his hand or made any movement in general.
Soap rolled his eyes and took Ghosts hand in his.
"Now, do you really want to disobey the princes orders, guard?"
lil drabble/Gladiator Ghoap
Ghoap, but they're both gladiators in ancient Rome. Soap, the celt from Northumbria, and Ghost, the always masked fighter from South Britannia. They loathed each other at the beginning, coming from warring tribes.
But being perched and enslaved together, having to share a room in the barracks does something. At first, they’d fight almost every day, bruises marring their bodies. Whenever they had a fight in the arena together, they were out for blood, even if the fight wasn’t supposed to happen between them.
They had to perform in order to survive in the ring. They had to give the audience what they wanted to see, otherwise their popularity would decline and they’d be sold. So they acted. They played the best friends with flirty fighting for the people, still hating each other as soon as they left the arena, though.
After some time, though, their acting from the arena affected them. They wouldn’t punch the other at the slightest provocation, sometimes even going as far as helping the other out when they came back from a fight injured.
Maybe sharing a room wasn’t so bad after all. And as the best two gladiators their master had, no one would bother them when there were some strange sounds coming from their room.
Note: Should you guys like this au, I’d be happy to write some more for it!
Bloody hands
Trigger warning: Graphic descriptions of pain, wounds and violence.
Note: The way I described it here is how I learned it in my tactical field care course, which is very different from what spec ops learn, so sorry for the inaccuracies. Also, there will be tactical inaccuracies as well, I have no idea what strategies the SAS uses on their missions.
Pairing: Ghost x Soap
Trope: Hurt/comfort, whump, angst
Word count:
It was a simple intel mission, something they’d done dozens of times before. Soap grabbing the intel from an old abandoned warehouse, Ghost in sniping position from a hill near the warehouse.
„Smooth as butter“, Soap thinks as he scouts the warehouse. The few hostiles were quickly eliminated, and he starts searching for the laptop. „How’s going in there, Johnny?“, Ghosts deep voice cracks through comms. „Beautifully, sir“. „Good. As soon as you got the intel, come to my location. Evac will take about half an hour to get here“. Soap rummages through a desk. „Understood“.
After a few minutes of searching, he finally finds the laptop. „Got it, Ghost“, he announces. „Well done, Johnny. Now get your arse over here“ „Yes sir“.
Soap quickly leaves the warehouse, carefully making his way towards the hill about two hundred meters away. „How’s the view from there, lt?“, he jokingly asks. No answer. „Ghost?“, he asks again. Still nothing. He gets a bit worried. „Ghost, you OK over there?“. Silence. He curses and picks up his pace.
As he reaches the foot off the hill, he sees something bloody in the tall grass. He scrambles towards the figure, sighing in relief when he identifies it as not Ghost. But a knife stuck out of the mans neck, it was one of Ghosts. He was in trouble.
As quickly as he could he runs up the hill, searching the ground for Ghost in his ghillie suit. When he finds him, his blood runs cold. Ghost is lying face down on the ground, a puddle of blood pooling around his torso. „Fuck, Ghost!“, Soap curses, quickly kneeling down next to him.
He turns him around and immediately grimaces at the sight. The mask was broken, his eyes closed. Blood pools out a bullet wound in his stomach, dark and slow.
„No no no no“, Soap mumbles, immediately pressing down on the wound, grabbing the med kit from his backpack. „Ghost! Wake up!“, he tries to urge the other man, putting on latex gloves and scissors, cutting away the fabric from his torso. Ghosts eyes flutter open. „Johnny“, he mumbles.
„Hey, hey“, Soap tries to talk to him, keeping him awake somehow. Ghost tries to speak, but his voice strangles into a pained moan when Soap starts packing the wound with quick clot gauze.
He tries to hide it, for Ghosts sake, but Soap panics. Ghost is hurt. That doesn’t happen. Some cuts and bruises, sure, but not like this. He was in pain, and he couldn’t hide it. Soap had never seen Ghost lose his composure, but here he was, hands gripping the fabric of the ghillie suit with white knuckles, small moans and whimpers leaving his lips as Soap tries to keep him from dying.
„It hurts“, Ghost mumbles, writhing under Soaps hands. „I know, I know, I‘m sorry“, Soap tries to comfort him, running his hands over Ghosts body to check for other injuries. The thoughts in his mind are running a hundred miles and hour as his hands press against his muscles, trying to ignore how he feels underneath his fingertips.
He grabs the morphine pen, uncapping it and stabbing it into Ghosts thigh, releasing the pain medication into his blood stream. „It’ll be better soon, I promise“, he tells him. His fingers reach up the the dishevelled mask, slowly pulling it off „I have to take this one off, lt. Gotta make sure you don’t accidentally swallow your tongue, yea?“ Ghost faintly nods, not enough strength in him to speak, a warm, comfortable cocoon starting to envelop him.
The sharp and agonising pain in his side slowly lessens to a dull ache, which is far more manageable. He tries to stay conscious, for Soap, but it is no use. He’s so tired, and no amount of struggling keeps him from slipping into a comforting darkness.
Soap in the mean time attempts to stop the shaking in his hands. He’s a sniper, a demolitions expert in the SAS, for fucks sake. He can keep his cool in the most stressful situations, but right now, he’s scared. Scared that it won’t be enough, that Ghost will die under his incompetent hands, killed on a stupid mission in a strange country.
Soap takes a look at his watch. Evac should be there in ten minutes. He prays to God he’ll be able to keep Ghost alive in the mean time. He doesn’t know what to do if he can’t. Ghost has passed out. At least he doesn’t have to feel the pain anymore. Soap would do anything to take it for him. With shaky hands he grabs a tube from the kit, intubating Ghost as gently as he can.
There isn’t much else he can do now anymore, only making sure Ghost keeps breathing and his heart keeps beating. He takes a look at the other far less damaging wounds, a fairly deep gash on his thigh and some bruises. With careful hands he cleans the gash from the dirt and dried blood, tightly wrapping a pressure bandage around it.
There isn’t more he can do now. He just has to wait and hope. A shuddering breath escapes him as he leans back on his knees, looking at Ghost. He looks so… Small. It is terrifying. Soap is used to being cared for by Ghost, whether it be being pulled out of the line of fire by the straps of his vest or big hands pressing into his body to stem a flow of blood. But not the other way around. The most he did for Ghost was helping him wrap a bandage around his arm once. But now, the mighty, strong and scary Ghost lies on the ground, hurt and weak.
It wasn’t the first time Soap had seen his face, but definitely the longest. His eyes were closed now, but Soap knew they were beautiful. A deep and rich brown, like the bark of an oak tree in summer. His lips were dry but of a slight pink colour, and way too plump for his own good. Soap wonders what they’d feel like on his, on his skin, on his-
The familiar sound of a chopper coming closer tears him out of his thoughts. He quickly scrambles up, packing the leftover plastic wrappers of the med kit in his bag pack, kneeling next to Ghost with a hand on his chest.
Two soldiers storm out, a stretcher in their hands. Soap helps them to roll Ghost onto it, and he gets quickly carried inside the chopper. A medic awaits them, and Soap hurries to report about Ghosts condition to him.
„Sit back, I‘ll take it from here“, he says and turns to Ghost. Soap lets himself fall heavily onto a bench, his own exhaustion getting stronger. He fights to keep his eyes open and trained on Ghosts unconscious figure, taking his hand in his and squeezing it, hoping he could feel it.
„You’re gon‘ be alright, ok? I‘m here, I won’t leave you alone“
Nightmares / Part I
Note: I made this two parts since I really wanted to post this but couldn't find the energy to write for the others tonight. Tomorrow you'll get Price, Rudi and Soap tho (I used alphabetical order, that's why they're last). Trope: Fluff, angst, hurt comfort Word count: 1.303 Trigger warning: Mention of torture
Alejandro: Alejandro was no stranger to sleepless nights. It took an eternity for him to fall asleep, worries and sorrows keeping him awake. When he did finally fall asleep, the nightmares came. He'd stand in the town square of Las Almas, having to watch as his family, friends and comrades were put against a wall. He couldn't run or scream, just stand there. When he suddenly stared in the barrel of a gun he finally woke up, shirt wet with sweat, the rooms silence filled by his heavy breaths. "Joder (Fuck)", he mumbled, getting up and putting on a new shirt. It was 0200 (2 am). He decided to get a tea. As he stepped in the community room he was surprised to see the lights on, you standing in pyjamas in front of the boiling kettle, a mug in your hand. "(Name)? What are you doing in the kitchen an two in the morning, tesoro?" You turned around, grinning but tired. "I could ask you the same, Ale" He sighed and grabbed a mug and tea bag (Spanish orange) "Can't sleep. You?" "Same. Do you... Wanna talk about it?", he shook his head. "Not right now, I think.... Just need to think about something else" You shrugged. "Understandable" You two sat down on the couch, sitting in silence, drinking the tea, each lost in their own thoughts. "Would you rather fight one hundred duck sized horses or one horse sized duck?", you suddenly asked. He looked at you like you had grown two horns. "Ehhh, madre mia, the horses, I think?", he answered. "Me too. Even though it would depend on the horse" He chuckled. "Are you trying to distract me?" You grinned "Is it working?" He rolled his eyes "A bit". You leaned you head on his shoulder, and after a moment he put his head on yours. "Good" You continued to banter about random nonsense until, finally, fatigue overcame you and you finally fell asleep. It was the best sleep either of you had gotten in a while.
Gaz: Falling asleep wasn't the problem. But as soon as Gaz drifted off into dream land, he was haunted. Faces of fallen comrades screamed at him for not saving them, the screams of agony of their last moments, the pleas of enemies he tortured filled his mind. With a muffled yelp he shot up in his bed, chest heaving. "Fuck", he muttered, getting up and pacing up and down in his room. His heart was beating like a racehorse. He grabbed his gym bag and decided to head to the training rooms. He was surprised to see the lights on, the thudding of fists hitting the punching bag filling the room. "Not bad, (name)", he stepped closer, looking at you. You sighed. "Can't sleep either?", you asked. He nodded. "Yea. Damn nightmares", he punched the bag, making it swing violently. You stepped back, sitting down on the mat and leaning against the wall. "Wanna talk about it?". He thought for a moment before turning his attention back on the bag. You thought he'd just ignore you and stay quiet, but as he started punching the bag, he muttered under his breath. "I couldn't save them. I killed them" His punches got harder and more aggressive. "It's my fault. It's my fault". You weren't sure who he was talking about, but it didn't quite matter right now. "Hey, hey, Gaz", you tried to calm him down. "Cmere", you patted the mat next to you. He seemed to contemplate for a moment, but then finally sat down next to you. A shuddered breath escaped him as he slumped in on himself. You opened your mouth, but quite honestly you weren't sure what to say. So you just sat in silence, but it wasn't an awkward feeling. It felt... Safe. Suddenly, you felt his head on your shoulder, and smiled, leaning yours against his.
Ghost: For Ghost, a good nights sleep was as common as a unicorn. Everytime he closed his eyes, he was there again. Buried alive, in a coffin, squished next to a decaying body. But this time, he didn't get out. He thrashed and screamed, unbeknownst to him not only in his sleep, but it was no use. He was trapped, he was trapped, he was trapped. Panic flooded his every fiber, but he just wouldn't fucking wake up. His eyes widened when he finally woke up. His breath came in short, shuddering gasps, tears staining his cheeks. He wanted to run, he needed to run or else he'd suffocate. He almost fell over putting on his pants and running shoes before he ripped open his door and ran. He didn't know where, he just needed to run. The sky was still dark, with the faintest shimmer of violet light creeping up the horizon. He aimed for the woods behind the barracks, mindlessly running along the paths. "Fuck, Riley, watch your step, big boy", a sudden voice squeaked. He opened his eyes which he didn't remember closing. He looked down, seeing you knocked over on the ground. "Sorry", he mumbled, giving you a hand and pulling you up. "What are you doing here at this time of night?", you raised an eyebrow. He shifted his weight. "Can't sleep". "Me too...", you looked at him. His gaze was weird... Dead, somehow. "Do you... Want to talk about it?", you asked carefully. "No", he said, voice firm. "Come with me", you grabbed his arm, leading him to a bench nearby, guiding him down and plopping next to him. "I'm here for you, you know that, right?" He gulped. "Yea..." A deep sigh escaped him. "...Thank you". You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "No problem", you mumbled, feeling him relaxing under you.
Horangi: They were here, they'd kill him, fuck, he needed to hide, he needed to hide. Horangi panted, clenching his fist in the sheets. His eyes opened wide and he rubbed the scars on his face. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and stepped outside, sliding down the wall. He lit it and took a deep breath, letting his head roll back and closing his eyes. "Whatcha doin there?", you voice suddenly sound beside him. "빌어먹을!" (Fucking hell, may be a bit wrong since I don't speak Korean) He had jumped up, sighing when he saw it was just you. "Stop sneaking up to me like that, (name)". You chuckled. "Heh, sorry". You sat down next to him. "Can't sleep?", you looked up at him. He nodded. "I don't wanna talk about it". "Then lets just... Sit" You leaned against him, feeling the tension melt slightly from his form.
König: As soon as he closed his eyes, the memories came. He was strapped to a chair, only dressed in boxer shorts, his hood gone. He felt exposed. They whipped, beat and cut him, the scars still evident on his skin. He stood up on shaky legs, the scars on his body aching. A small tin of ointment stood on the table, which he grabbed and carefully rubbed it in. He was not gonna fall asleep anytime soon again. With a heavy sigh he put on his clothes and shuffled towards the armoury. He plopped down on a bench and started cleaning his guns. "Hey there", he hadn't heard you, and immediately pointed the empty gun at you. "Scheiße! You scared me!", he mumbled. You giggled, sitting down next to him. "Sorry". He rolled his eyes and watched him clean his weapons for a minute. "Can't sleep?", you asked. "Nightmares", he answered shortly. You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling his muscles move under it as he wiped down the barrel of his gun. "You can always talk to me, you know?", you mumbled. "Yea... Danke"
Alive / Part X
Trigger warning: Mentions and descriptions about sexual abuse and rape. Word count: 459
The rest of the breakfast was tasty, but awkward. Ghost felt like Molly knew. (She does). She kept glancing at him and Soap, who were sitting next to each other, a mischevious smirk on her face.
After finishing eating, they helped clean the dishes and went up to their bedroom to brush their teeth. Ghost was quiet, but he could feel Soaps eyes on him the entire time. He wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy what happened, not at all. It just felt so.... Weird. Unfamiliar. He's had his fair share of experiences, but it has been years. And in the mean time there were some.... Rather unpleasant events. He stood in front of the sink, looking at himself in the mirror. He could feel their hands on him, doing whatever they wanted to with his body, forcing him to go on his knees and please them. He wanted to puke, nausea overcoming him. "I had to , I had to, I had to survive", he repeated over and over in his mind, a tear rolling down his cheek. It had taken years before he could even touch himself again without having a panic attack. Since then no one had touched him in that way. He didn't want them to. Sometimes he missed the intimacy, but he was afraid to crave it, knowing he wouldn't be able to allow someone so close to him. But now there was Soap. Ghost damned himself for it, but he trusted the man. Fuck, he loved him. And for the first time in what seemend like a lifetime, he craved touch. His touch. His hands dug in his neck, knuckles white and leaving small, red shapes in his skin.
"You ok in there, lt?", Soaps voice sounded from outside the door. "Er, yea, 'm fine", Ghost hurried to answer, voice a bit choked up. Soap didn't say anything. Quickly wiping his wet eyes and putting on his stoic expression, he stepped out the bathroom. He was certain Soap could see that he had cried, but he luckily didn't say anything.
"So, you wanna go for a hike?", Soap asked lowly, inching closer to Ghost, putting his hands on his waist. Ghost suddenly felt claustrophobic. He loved his touch and hated it at the same time. He stumbled backwards. Soap looked confused at a bit hurt, no, more regretful.
Ghost cleared his throat. "Yea, why not. Lovely weather", he mumbled. He began to look for his cargo pants and a shirt. Soap was awfully quiet. Ghost wanted to slap himself for repulsing. He craved him so much it hurt. It scared him.
He turned around, wanting to say something. "I'm sorry, Johnny", he said.
But Soap was already gone.
Note: I did not plan for this to turn out this dark, but I wanted to bring in an explanation for Ghosts mixed feelings on intimacy, since his sexual abuse and rape are canon. I've personally never read the comics, so this is just my interpretation. I also want to mention that the reactions to sexual trauma are extremely subjective, how I described it here is just my personal experience.
Writing Angst GhostRoach in class is so much fun, I'm not even done and I can feel the tears getting ready to fall cause I have it written out in my head and I just need to put it on paper (well computer).
i gave in and started snooping around on character ai and i need to be EUTHANIZED IMMEDIATELY.
