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mactavishenjoyer · 20 hours

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Unlike Ghost Soap's family wasn't murdered. Just a series of advents. Suicide is what took his father. Alcoholism is what took his mother. She ended up passing after two years of dialysis. That's what soap remembers the most about her. That she didn't listen to anyone that tried to help her. That she was mean in those last two years. That he had felt guilty when he was just tired of taking care of her. Him and his brother ended up in foster care. Getting split up but finding each other surprisingly quickly when his brother hit 18. His brother died in a car crash a year later. 19 was too young to go but death didn't care. His brother was the only person Soap buried. He deserved to rest somewhere nice. Instead of sitting in a box shoved into some closet like their parents. Soap must have been around 27 when he had actually spread his parents ashes. It only took 15 years to do so but he did it. Something he'd never admit out loud was that he didn't care. It felt wrong but it just wasn't a big deal. The only time he remembered crying over his family was burying his brothers smashed and unrecognizable body. Soap doesn't talk about it. Not because he wants to keep it hidden but because he is tired of the train of "I'm sorry" that comes with telling people. It annoyed him. He would also never say that out loud. He'd never tell someone that it was a waisted sorry. That he truly didn't care that his parents were gone. Paired with his career people would think he was crazy. They'd think that he lacked emotions when that was far from the case. He knew his emotions well. He knew the feeling of dread that washed over him when Simon didn't finish a solo mission in the estimated time. He knew the fear that ran through him that he'll pick up a call just to hear that Kyle didn't make it. He knew the terror that coursed through his body when Price would go dark. He knew the panic that would set in when Gary would get split up from another member. He knew he loved his team. He knew this was his family. He knew that he'd be lost without them.

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queermentaldisaster · 1 day

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Roach learned at a young age that blankets were a source of comfort and safety, because it was a place he could hide away when everything got too much, so now, when he's upset or overstimulated, you'll find him buried under tons of blankets. Don't ask how he got under them all, no one knows.

#gary roach sanderson #roach call of duty #roach #cod roach #roach cod #call of duty roach #gary sanderson #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #elo rambles

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schizo-bbgs · 6 days

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Ghost & Roach

Roach design credit: @/BigMikeMW on twitter link to the original tweet thank you for the permission!

#cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare #ghost call of duty #call of duty ghost #call of duty roach #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley

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toomanywordsnllines · 20 days

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TASKFORCE 141 AS LITTLE GUYS!!!!! I might make charms/stickers out of these 🤔

#manyrambles #manysart #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty roach #call of duty soap #call of duty ghost #call of duty gaz #call of duty price #gary roach sanderson #john soap mctavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #taskforce 141 #I love making them into little animals <3

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roachy-draws · 29 days

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He's a leash kid now

Y/n: Calm down

Roach: *rabid dog noises*

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diejager · 9 months

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Sparrow

Pairing : Task Force 141 x Vampire!reader

Cw: blood, vampire, death.

Wc: 947

Price watched everyone board the helicopter in a steady shuffle, he counted the names when they passed him as if taking their attendance to assure that everyone followed him. Ghost, Roach, Soap, and Gaz- he gaped at the missing soldier, he was sure you'd been behind them this whole time, eyes scouring the darkness for you. He turned to the others for information, frowning when they all said that they hadn't seen you.

"Sparrow, what's your status?"

Thumb still pressed into his radio, he waited for your reply. When all he received was silence from you, he asked a second time: "Sparrow, how copy?"

There was only complete silence on your end. That worried them, but they knew you wouldn't go doing so easily; you'd told them once that you would bomb everything before dying - if you could, from regular bullets or knives.

"Sparrow," Ghost growled out, his deep, rumbling order echoed through the shared line.

It was quiet at first, but then the sound of muffled screams and slurping came through. Their tense shoulders slouched, finally knowing where you went: to quench your hunger.

You left the line open, letting the team listen to the pained moans of the soldier that crossed your path. A thud followed afterward when you stopped drinking, the bloodless body falling forward.

They waited at the end of the clearing, seated in the helicopter as they strained their ears to listen to your near-silent steps. They could see you before they heard you, piercing, red eyes glowing in the dark foliage as you approached them. The sight flooded them with relief, seeing you wipe your blood-soaked face and pull your mask over your nose to hide the gory view of your sharp fangs painted in red.

"Sorry," you bowed, voice raspy and quiet from the ecstasy of drinking blood - delicious or disgusting, blood worked the same way it did either way.

"'S fine, Sparrow," Price mumbled, motioning you to sit next to him, the last seat on the aircraft.

Silence lingered in the shared space as Nikolai pulled into the sky, the blades ripping through the air loudly. The team watched your half-lidded eyes, blinking owlishly in some sort of trance. You were always dazed after feasting on someone, calm and slurring words as if high on blood. Your body took time absorbing and cycling the blood through your undead body, extracting the nourishing substances within a few weeks.

A satiated cat, that's how Soap first described you when you first fed on one of them, a hissy and skittish cat until it ate its full, satisfied, and sleepy. Soap was the first, finding your fangs deep into a man's neck. He stopped dead in his track, gaping at your red eyes and pointed teeth. He offered himself to you a few weeks later and quickly became addicted to the thrill of sharing an intimate part of himself.

Ghost caught them months later, finding you suckling on Soap's shoulder with a dazed look. The brooding man froze, unable to understand whatever he just saw; the shock and the unnatural spark of pleasure at your teeth breaking Soap's skin and laving up stray drops of blood. The image stayed in his mind, haunting him day in and day out until he found himself offering the same as Soap did. The danger and fear of having someone touch him made him hard, the slight sting of your teeth and your warm mouth around his wrist, shoulder, and neck - he almost begged for you to drink from his neck.

Gaz and Price stumbled on your feed on a mission, and have spent almost two months on infiltration and information gathering job for Shepherd, you got too hungry and snapped at the first straggler. Price, being who he is, shook off the confusion and helped you, making you promise to explain everything afterward. Gaz, however, somewhat gushed, a mix between confusion and amazement at your case. He, unlike the former, was more entertained with the idea of letting you feed on him for the experience.

Sweet Roach was the last one, you told him upfront about your little problem when you returned from your deployment with Gaz and Price. You signed it to him in your room, hanging from your bunk to tell him. He took it easily, perhaps too easily and calmly for someone whose roommate for the past year was a vampire. If you're ever hungry, I wouldn't mind helping you, Sparrow, he confessed, eyes glimmering with adoration and lips pulled in a small smile.

"How was it?" Soap pipped up, peering at you from the opposite side of the bird.

"Like shit," you grumbled, adjusting your rifle to sit more comfortably. "Fear and anger makes it taste bloody sour."

"You should've told us you were hungry, Sparrow, " Ghost growled lowly, he never liked letting you drink from other men or women other than their team. "Wouldn't have minded it." The last part was whispered, almost as if he was too shy to admit it.

"Don't be an arse about it, L.T., she was just hungry."

Ghost only grumbled lowly about how Soap wasn't any better. Gaz nudged your arm, telling you that he's free later if you're still hungry, knowing full well that you had your full. The little wink he gave told you everything, he just wanted to have you around him.

You sighed and turned to Price and Roach, tired from the night's event and the horrid taste that lingered on your tongue. I agree, Sparrow, his shoulders shook, head tilted towards the two bantering - more so of Soap annoying Ghost - men. None of us mind.

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summoningflames · 6 months

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this is my favourite asmr video and now my favourite art trend thank u

#roach when he sees an actual roach #probably.#call of duty #cod #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare 2009 #cod 2009 #gary roach sanderson #roach sanderson #call of duty roach

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heathcliffvu · 9 months

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Work pressure.

#artist on tumblr #fanart #cod fanart #call of duty mwii #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #digital art #call of duty fanart #ghost cod #call of duty mw2 #gary roach sanderson #cod mw2 #ghostroach #ghost x roach #call of duty roach #roach call of duty #cod ghost #roach mw2 #morden warfare

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

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Hello Hal,

Congratulations on 5k followers <3 I’m so happy for you honey!!, for the request can we get a cute fluff short story with roach please ? You can do whatever you want w it !

Have fun and congrats again :)

—Raining Cats and Dogs

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

It was raining more in the last few hours than it had in the entire month, with a constant deluge of harsh winds and the occasional lightning strike; the rumble of dark-clouded thunder above the roof. Yet here, snuggling on the couch, you and Gary reveled in it.

The curtains were open to watch the raindrops, your cheek to the man’s chest as the warmth of the fireplace made you sleepy. There was no vacancy of comfort in this living room, Gary’s fingertips traveling up and down the length of your spine as the minutes slid into hours. The air was heavy with sappy heat, the thin blanket long pushed down past your shoulder blades.

His breath was puffing against your forehead, your nose situated in the junction of his chin. Gary was humming, too. A tiny little melody that neither of you could name—perhaps it wasn’t even a conscious symphony, just a mess of rough pitches and whatever he felt sounded good enough for your ears. You weren’t complaining, even if he was no lyricist.

His arm at your waist tightens, pulling you closer as he nuzzles his nose into your head with a tiny grunt.

Gary’s eyes are half-closed, the deep well of color soft and as malleable as clay. There was no need to speak to one another, no, in moments like these, the silence spoke for the both of you. The crackle of fire, the slam of rain; soft inhalations of your lungs. You press a warm kiss into his neck, and Gary’s lips pull into a tiny smile, his fingers digging into your flesh that yields to him as his gaze glints.

His chest reverberates with a hum, purring like a cat while a smug expression litters the lax lines of his face. With a gentle shift of his body, the man settles your back to the cushions as he shimmies to loom above you, blanket tying the both of you together in its fabric arms.

Gary’s hand is under your shirt, the wide hold of his grip cupping your opposite hip from behind as he suddenly collapses atop you with a sigh. You grunt, before a tiny fit of wheezed giggles escapes your lungs, the weight of his body no concern as his head shoves itself into your stomach, legs out behind him with one hanging off the edge. Head against the pillow, your warm hands rub through Gary’s hair, carding through the locks as he loses all focus and sags—eyes fluttering at the scrape of your nails.

You both release a long breath as a slash of lightning slices the dark world outside; neither of you flinches, not even the Sergeant in your grip, when the thunder rolls through. There wasn’t anything to fear in this house, and there never would be.

So, Gary gradually succumbs to the ministrations of your touch, his humming tapering off until nothing but his gentle snores give you their song. You continue to play with his hair, thumb rubbing circles.

The fire burns on, the storm continues its rampage, and the lovers fall to sleep in each other’s arms.

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aleksanderthemesschild · 7 months

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Me and the boys at 3 am like:

#roach #gary roach sanderson #call of duty roach #he is my silly #i love him so much #“sir how much we know about bbg?”#"nothing #“Perfect he is bbg”#what is the czech equvilent to kurwa?

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grimmroach · 9 months

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sorry i haven’t been posting, lost my job and i’ve been incredibly depressed

anyways barbie roach

#gary roach sanderson #cod roach #cod #call of duty #call of duty roach #art #fanart #cod fanart

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mactavishenjoyer · 9 hours

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Imagine if Roach wasn't born mute. Instead becoming mute due to an accident. So like idea:

Simon was the first person Gary saw when he came back. Not ghost. It was Simon. The way he dropped everything and came running to him told Gary that. Just another solo mission. That's how it was supposed to be. Roach had gone on many so Ghost didn't worry. He knew he'd be coming home. Even if Roach had to crawl his way back. Even if he was choking on his own blood. Even if his throat was slit. He's Roach after all. The knife being stabbed into his neck was terrifying. He can still feel the knife being dragged through his neck. He'd seen Ghost do it to enemies but never expected an enemy to do it to him. He never thought he'd be sloppy enough to let an enemy get that close. If the enemy knew what he was doing Roach would be dead. His larynx was shredded. That will heal. What was unlikely to heal was the vocal cord paralysis. He couldn't face Ghost while healing. Maybe he felt ashamed? Or maybe he was afraid of Simon not loving him as much. The way Simon was holding him made all that feel stupid.

Enjoy my word vomit or something idk. Thank you for reading! I'm sorry I'm not a writer.