#cod event story

[mccutcheon121]

Only been in the Cod fandom around two months and here I am already having a fic about SoapGhost!! 😱

I know it’s not very good so go easy on me. Feeling down about it today

@yearoftheotpevent

#original post #my story #cod mw2 #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #mw2 2022 #call of duty #new fandom #new to the fandom #writing #otp2023 #year of the otp #writing prompt #writing event

[bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus]

Baying Dogs; Chapter 3: Separating The Herd

Warnings for: violence, gore and swearing! And above all, character death!

Word count: 2,649

For those of you coming to read from the Solstice event, this is the third chapter of my ongoing Call of Duty fic where I've basically made a whodunit and mixed in some elements from one of my favourite movies: Dog Soldiers. Take this as a horror short! I'll have another short up later on based on my original work too.

Here's the blurb from the Ao3 version to give you some context:

"They were outnumbered, barely making it out by the skin of their teeth. However, they haven't got time to breathe. People are starting to drop like flies and someone's behind it. As for who? Well, as much as I hate to say it, it might be one of their own."

As she was putting her first aid kit back into her rucksack, Dougs heard a peculiar sound.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

It almost sounded like rustling. The scratching of fabric making itself known, followed by a few repressed, pained grunts.

“Gah! Shit!”

Dougs rolled her eyes, knowing full well what was going on.

“I hope you’re not destroying my handiwork.”

Ghost paused at the sound of her clipped tone, her Jamaican accent thickening in her irritation.

After a brief pause, the sound of his itching resumed.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

That does it! This is the third fucking one!

“Don’t scratch your stitches!” Dougs pounced, grabbing his arm, “For fuck’s sake! You’re the third guy and this is getting out of hand.”

The hand which she had caught by the wrist was tense, fingers in a claw-like array, trying to fight against the urge to shove her off. Dougs’ big brown eyes bore angry holes into Ghost’s face, and, judging by the hints of a raised brow under his mask, he was taken aback.

“It’s… so itchy.”

“Well, don’t give in. I can’t be staying up all night redoing everyone’s dressing because they can’t be arsed to resist the urge to itch!”

His eyes narrowed.

“I thought doctors were supposed to be empathetic.”

“Sometimes we get a bit fed up. Now, quit trying to undo your stitches.”

“Can’t I have some of that numbing cream?” Ghost asked, pointing to the tube sitting half-out of its cardboard box.

She shook her head.

“I have to conserve that for when it’s actually needed.”

“I need it.”

“Distract yourself with other sensations. Rub your legs, go look at the stars outside- just don’t itch!”

He was about to protest, only for the zip of their tent to be undone.

Gaz poked his head in.

“I’ve undone my dressing.” He smiled guiltily, showing a bloodied arm.

Dougs wanted to pull the hair out of her scalp.

“What is going on?!” She cried, “Give me your arm, let me see.”

His wound was red and raw, with local swelling around the cut.

“Infected…” Dougs thought aloud, before turning to her half-packed med kit.

“Infected?” Gaz asked nervously.

“Let me just get some TCP out and-”

She turned back to see he was raising his eyebrows at her.

Dougs just stared at him blankly.

Again, he raised his eyebrows at her.

She looked back at Ghost, who was watching on, either with utmost curiosity or because he didn’t know where to place his eyes.

“Well, we don’t know for sure if it’s badly infected.”

“But it is infected.” Gaz said, emphasising the last word, “Infected from the attack.”

“Or b-because dirt can get into it, maybe?” Dougs nodded slowly, “And also because we lack the resources to deliver adequate enough care to have prevented this when we first completed your dressing.”

“Or it could be from the attack.” Gaz once more suggested.

“We don’t know for sure your theory is certain.”

They are definitely talking about something else… Ghost tilted his head to one side, listening to this almost robotic conversation, or they’re both having a stroke.

“Am I in trouble?” Gaz swallowed hard, “Because I’ve got a fever too and-”

She checked his forehead, to find he had a hot head like Graves and Price.

“We’ll see, Gaz. Let’s see what we can do now, okay?”

He nodded, but unable to shake the dread.

Something was weighing down on his chest and Sergeant Garrick began to wonder if the lack of recollection from the night leading up to Weir’s death was in fact not due to a heavy sleep but rather responsibility. Perhaps there was a reason he was the first to find her body.

No, Gaz pushed those thoughts away, there’s no evidence.

Dougs popped on a fresh dressing and sent him on his way, letting out a big yawn.

She ought to have antibiotics with her, knowing full well that these types of infections can get serious, but all she had were diaphoretics and salt.

Luckily, there hadn’t been any signs of pus forming in any of the injuries she had seen so far… but she knew it would be inevitable.

Better get ready to make some salt baths soon.

“Do you feel feverish, Ghost?”

He shook his head.

“Can I check anyways?”

Reluctantly, he removed the skull mask and loosened his balaclava. Guiding her hand, he let her feel his cheeks and forehead.

At least we’ve got one without a raging fever.

He felt cool, the only sensation Dougs really picked up on was the slight roughness of his stubble. She gave a small sigh of relief, eyes blinking slowly in their growing tiredness.

“Well, it seems you’re clear. Don’t start scratching at your dressing whilst I nod off, understood?”

Ghost nodded, taking her advice to distract himself from the urge by raking his nails along his thick cargo pants.

As Dougs snuggled into her sleeping bag, she turned to face Ghost, watching him begin to close up shop. It was nice to be lying down, her feet pulsing with the ache of their walking, only just experiencing a proper rest after miles of trekking. Every muscle in Dougs’ body was reverberating with a dull pain: her back, her feet and her hands, which were cramping a little from all the fine-motor tasks. She clenched and unclenched her fist underneath the covers, trying to get the stiffness out of her joints.

“Are you going to sleep with that thing on?” She asked, a curious smile creeping across her tired face.

“Yes, and soundly.” Ghost replied.

Dougs was going to remark on the surprising tranquillity of this evening, but her mind turned to the chaos that was replacing almost everyone’s dressing.

She looked back at Ghost, who had set his mask aside, looking in his rucksack for the hangable torch, his wounded hand raised in the air, sleeve rolled up. Presumably, the man was trying to see if the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ thing worked and it seemed it was as he wasn’t itching.

She shook her head, hoping that maybe letting the wound breathe might help alleviate the irritation, but she could see by the way his arm shook a little with tension, that he was resisting the compulsion to tear out the sutures.

I should have brought cones of shame with me. Works on dogs.

As if on cue, Dougs whipped her head around at a strange sound. It was distant, but unmistakeable. Almost like a lamentation, it rasped out a little at the end, but picked up for a new cycle of wails.

“Is that howling?” She rose from her sleeping bag, looking in the direction of the sound.

“Baying.”

The medic turned around to Ghost.

“That’s baying.” He repeated, not bothering to dart his head about like Dougs.

“Baying?”

“Yeah. Not quite howling. Not quite barking. Dogs usually do it when they’ve found something they want others to see. Not surprised a farm dog would be baying at this hour, probably saw a fox or something.”

“Are you sure it’s a farm dog?”

Ghost scoffed at the worried look on her face.

“What else is it gonna be? Wolves?”

She shrugged, drawing her knees to her chest.

“I saw you talking to Gaz.” Ghost continued, “Is he still harping on about the attack being animals?”

She shook her head.

“No. He doesn’t think it was animals anymore.” Dougs half-lied.

“Glad he’s getting with the program.” Ghost remarked, hanging up a torch on the carabiner above them, “The last thing we want is infighting on who done it. Northolt is our objective, let’s focus on that.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, “Yeah.”

Dougs looked off to the side, hearing the hound’s baying once more.

***

BANG!

Gunfire rang out and both Dougs and Ghost shot up at the echoing sound.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she stumbled out the tent, following the lieutenant.

Soap clutched his gun in shaking hands, the barrel still smoking as he watched the thing collapse onto the ground.

“Soap!” Ghost ran to his side, “Soap, are you alright?!”

“What the fuck is that?”

“What is what?” Ghost looked at him, only to follow his gaze down MacTavish’s raised arm and pointed to finger to see something he… he didn’t know what to make of.

“What the fuck is that?”

Ghost backed up.

It was large, surely as big as a bear if not bigger, with a mane of fur around its neck and two sizeable bullet holes in its stomach. A forked tongue hung out its mouth which was lined with teeth fit for shearing and tearing meat.

Gaz slunk past Ghost to get a closer look, only to be grabbed by the shoulder and held back by his lieutenant.

“It looks like a dog.” Graves observed, resting some of his weight on Dougs who propped him up so he could stand a little more upright.

“That’s one fucked up dog.” Soap remarked, grimacing.

Dougs covered her nose.

“Smells rank.”

“What is it, though?” Gaz asked.

“Dogman?” Soap suggested.

“Fucking dogman?!” Gaz pointed to it, “That’s a whole-ass werewolf!”

Its eyes opened. As they squabbled and argued about the hypotheticals of what this could be… the thing was listening.

And Dougs clocked it was alive.

Blood began to pour from its wounds once more.

“Uh… guys…” She began to back away with Graves.

“Why are you fixed on the biology, Soap?!”

“Guys…” Dougs said again, seeing its fingers tense.

“Because that looks like a dogman! And I know for a fact that dogmen are more likely to be real than a fucking man who can turn into that thing!"

“Oh my God.” Gaz pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Boys!” Graves snapped, “Shoot that thing before it gets up!”

“What?”

“Fuck!”

It had risen onto its hind legs, drool dripping from its chops. They all staggered backwards.

“Fucking shoot it, Soap!” Graves yelled.

Without a second thought, Soap open fired on the animal. It let out a shriek before trying to take a swipe at the gun.

Soap managed to hit it before it got close enough, and the creature stumbled, before falling to the ground.

This was a mistake.

Because, and they hadn’t realised it yet but, that thing was way more comfortable on all fours.

Licking the slobber hanging from those dribbling lips, it snapped at them. Clearly, unfazed that it had another wound gushing with blood.

Soap lined up to take another shot.

“Shouldn’t we need silver?” Gaz mumbled.

Graves shot him a dirty look, keeping a hand on his chest so he’d remain the furthest behind them.

“If I shoot it, what difference is it gonna make?” Soap asked, finger hovering over the trigger.

“What does it matter?!” Dougs groaned, “It’s either it dies or we’re dinner!”

Soap took a deep breath and steadied his aim.

BANG!

Straight through the eye. Its head flung backwards, only to return to facing ahead, glaring daggers at them.

“You see?! What the fuck do I do?”

That’s when Ghost charged at it from behind and flung boiling water from one of the cooking pots.

It screeched, totally caught off guard.

Ghost grabbed his knife and stabbed it in the gut.

Only to be grabbed and thrown across the camp, landing on top of the spare tent.

“Fire again!” Graves shouted.

Soap did so.

And again. And again.

Each time, the animal would get knocked back, return to its original position, staggering towards them like a deranged, sickly yet determined fool, oozing buckets of blood.

The whole party did what they could only do, raise their arms and roar at it, sticking close together so as to appear as a single, frightening unit. They roared and clapped their hands. Roared and fired their guns.

It hissed before turning back around and making a retreat, dashing into the woods with a slight limp… just as the sun’s morning rays landed on their small, temporary plot of land.

They were all left speechless… well, except for Gaz.

“I fucking knew it!” He shook his fist in the air, “That’s what hit us before!”

“How do you know for certain?” Graves asked.

“What got you, Commander?”

“A man.” Was the reply.

“Are you sure?”

As Gaz began to explain his theory on their enemy, Dougs looked around.

And counted.

Soap, Gaz, Graves and Ghost.

There were supposed to be six.

Price.

“Guys.” She called for silence, “Where’s Price?”

They all looked about.

“Oh fuck!” Soap’s head was on the verge of doing a full 360 spin, “Where’s Captain Price?”

“Shit…” Graves sighed.

As they trekked along the winding path, keeping to the perimeter of the field, Dougs spotted something ahead.

Someone.

“Hey!” She whispered to Graves, who had taken to using her as his new crutch, “Do you see that?”

“What?” He asked, wincing as the sun blinded him momentarily.

“Look!” She pointed with her free hand, “Look!”

“Oh… Oh! Woah! Folks!”

They stopped dead in their tracks.

“Is that-”

The distant figure collapsed onto the ground.

“Fuck!”

Ghost remained on overwatch with Dougs as Soap and Gaz, guns at the ready ran ahead.

Within minutes, the remaining three’s radios crackled.

“It’s Price…” Soap said, “And he’s dead.”

They had crowded round the dead body, looking down at it with despondent eyes.

“It’s him.”

They could just about recognise the lifeless form of their captain. His gear was reduced to rags with gaping wounds littering his body.

“What happened to him?” Soap asked, not sure what other words to say.

Gaz knelt down to check his breathing.

“Yep…” His voice quivered, “… Dead.”

“You don’t think he was… you know…” Graves looked to the company to the left, and then to his folks on the right.

“Are you saying that I shot Price?” Soap growled.

“Well, why else would he be here, half naked and dead with wounds that we gave to a monster hours ago?”

Dougs felt cold sweat run down her temple… or was it the foggy air condensing around her?

Either way, she wiped off the moisture.

Only for the wetness to return, this time in the form of a droplet; followed by another and then another.

Ghost looked up to the sky and held his hand out.

“We should think about moving, or this’ll get worse.”

“What about Price?” Gaz raised, “We can’t just leave him here!”

“Can’t exactly bury him…” Soap muttered.

That’s when Gaz turned to face Soap with narrow eyes.

“You were on night watch last night.”

“Aye. So were you.”

“I left halfway through because of my stitches.” Gaz walked up to him, “Did you see anything? Do anything?”

“Gaz…” Dougs spoke sternly.

Soap stared at him, unsure whether to meet his eyes or not.

“I heard voices. More specifically your voice.”

“Gaz, that’s enough!” Ghost barked.

Gaz placed a finger on Soap’s armoured chest.

“Tell me everything.”

“Gaz, what are you implying-”

“Report, Sergeant!”

Dougs knew she would’ve flinched in that moment, but Soap stood strong, unmoved. Instead of recoiling, he simply sighed.

“I saw Price come out the tent, walk into the woods. At first, I thought he’d got up to piss but something was off. I followed him, called after him. And… I lost sight of Price.”

Gaz began to laugh, shaking his head.

“You just lost sight of him?”

“I swear I had nothing to do with this!” Soap snarled.

“You fucking…” Gaz clenched his fist.

Only for a hand to place itself on his shoulder:  Ghost looked down at the sergeant with tired eyes.

“We don’t need this. Price is dead and we have a long way to Northolt, so let’s just stick together as a- Ah!”

He released Gaz, clutching his arm.

“You alright, Lt?” Soap came to his side.

“Yeah…” Ghost breathed out, “Just… tore my stitches.”

He looked over to Dougs, apologetically.

#winter solstice writing event #longest night stories #cod mwii fic #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #captain john price #phillip graves #simon ghost riley #there's an oc here too lol

[bitchkay]

Picnic Date♡

~Knight

CW: small Knight♡, tooth rotting fluff, outdoor painting date, no description of hair color, skin color, height, body type, outfit or any distinct features, maybe little personality queues specific to me but that's it

Rating: General consumption

Word count: 1121

Note: I love Knight so much I wanna get married--

Update: I just read Knights route of the new event path(I read Tinos first) and I'm gonna start crying rn I love him sm--

"I can carry this all myself you know.."

I wanted to go out and paint in my free time, enjoy this beautiful day while creating something new, seeing as there were no lectures today and I hadn't painted in a while. My paramour, Knight, also having time to spare, offered to join me, turning this into a tranquil picnic/painting date.

"Nonsense, I shan't let you carry this all on your own," Knight said, carrying my bag full of my paints and paint brushes, and the canvas I had made for the occasion, leaving me with the picnic basket full of goods to snack on.

"Knight," I whined, dragging out his name.

Not that I don't appreciate the help, but I'm plenty capable of carrying my own things.

Arriving at our destination, a grassy field with tall trees shading the area, flowers and other plants in the surroundings, I laid out the picnic blanket next to a tree placing the basket down in the middle, Knight placing my things on the blanket as we sat down.

"I told Tino we were going on a picnic and he gave me some fresh bread for us to eat, I also made us some sandwiches, packed some fruit, biscuits, not necessarily a hardy meal but perfect for a mid day picnic," I smiled taking my paints out, seeing Knight empty the basket.

"What kind of sandwiches are these?" Knight asked, taking out a couple trying to inspect the contents without removing the plastic wrap.

"Try one, let me know what you think."

I watched him unwrap one of the sandwiches waiting for a reaction only to see him take the smallest bite known to man, basically nibbling on the crust.

"Come on, take a bigger bite than that, the good stuff's on the inside of the bread ya know," I said really to shove the thing down his throat.

"Alright! Alright! I am eating!" Knight said, leaning back away from me, taking a big bite, crunching through the sandwich. "It's full of greens!"

"Yeah, do you like it?! I know not everyone's a fan of vegetables but I use to love this sandwich when someone would get it for me, it has lettuce, cucumbers, salted avocados raw broccoli-"

"This is amazing!"

"Do you really like it?!" I said smiling, hearts in my eyes as he devoured the sandwich reaching for another. "I made plenty more so dig in! There's also fruits and baby carrots-"

"You really like eating healthy don't you?" Knight questioned opening up another sandwich.

"It's not that I like eating healthy, I just like vegetables I guess," I said, taking out my own sandwich.

-

Setting up my canvas, laying a piece of fabric on my lap to protect my clothes, I dipped my brush in the cup of water.

"Knight?"

"Hm?" he answered, fiddling with a vine of grapes.

"Pick a color, any color," I said, gesturing to the many jars of paint laid out.

"You want.. me to pick?"

"Of course, any color will do, pick as many or as little as you want," I said.

Knight put a finger to his chin in thought scooting closer to me for a better look. Looking at the different colors and different shades and tones of different colors, he narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Or how about I paint you?" I suggested.

"Me?!" Knight yelped.

"Yeah… you're really cute♡ and you have quite the fixed color palette, I think it'd be fun," I said, taking his cheek and turning his face my way.

Knight blushed deeply at the action, loss for words as he looked back at me. I caressed his cheek with my thumb giving him a small peck on the lips.

"Do you like that idea?♡~"

"I- um.. I mean- you- like- it's uh.." I giggled as he fumbled his words, face red to the tips of his ears.

So cute☆

"Or I can paint something else? I'll let you choose," I said without dropping my hand from his face.

Knight fumbled for a second before picking up a couple jars of paint.

"How about… you make something with these," Knight said, holding up three jars. Lavender, light green and light blue.

"Perfect," I said, stealing one of his grapes.

-

"Knight, can I have a biscuit please," I asked without looking at him.

"Of course, here," Knight held out the biscuit for me, looking at me oddly when I didn't take it.

"Ah," I opened my mouth.

"... you have hands."

"Knight! I have paint on my hands, please," I said, showing him my fingers.

"... um," Knight averted his gaze.

"Come on, no one's here, and I want a biscuit. Ah," I opened my mouth again waiting to be fed.

"Dragon's teeth, fine," he said, breaking a piece and putting it in my mouth, letting me chew before I opened my mouth again.

"More please☆"

-

"Boop."

"Boop?? What's boo- did you just put paint on me?!" Knight scrambled when I taped his nose with a blue paint covered finger.

"Calm down, you'll make a mess, it isn't toxic, nor will it take long to dry, you can peel it off," I said, peeling some dried paint off my hands.

"Still… you're the painter not I," he pouted.

"And you're the painter's paramour, I'm a package deal hehe."

"A package de-?? What?"

-

"Ta-da!"

"Pretty."

"So how'd I do, critique me," I said, propping the painting against the tree.

"Nice colors."

"You picked them."

"I know," Knight chuckled lightly, standing at my side. "Your work could hang in a gallery."

"You flatter me, be mean for once," I say, pushing his shoulder.

"I speak only the truth, this is beautiful.." he said looking me in the eyes.

"I was only thinking of how nice it was to be here with you today… a picnic lunch, the fresh air, painting.. you, it's perfect," I said, holding his gaze.

Knight blushed hearing the sincerity in my voice. Grabbing my hand he tugged me closer, staring at point blank range he called out my name.

"... I should like to kiss you now.." it sounded more like he was questioning himself then he probably would've liked. 

"Go ahead."

Slipping his arms around my waist he pulled me in pressing his lips against mine. I held firmly at his biceps as I returned his advances with the same amount of affection.

Releasing each other's lips with a smack of the lips I smiled.

"Wanna help me hang this up in my room?"

©bitchkay.tumblr.com

I'm in love with him.

I wanna get married and like have little baby Knights running around, ion even like kids but if he wanted some I'd make him a daddy no hesitation come here baby, gimme some loving😼😼 /hj

#cod knight #court of darkness #fanfiction #otome fanfic #I love Knight so much give me more event stories🤬🤬 #voltage inc #cod fanfic #court of darkness knight #court of darkness fanfiction #kay's writing

[castlingvanias]

what's up with the general population and not understanding curse of darkness

#'its just a worthless side story' shut up #also ellis my brother in muhammad u write the show u can simply just make the events of cod not just a one time thing #like curse of darkness isn't perfect but ppl whi disregard it completely are a huge redflag #rodispeak

[courtdarkness]

CoD Story Events 2021 JP Edition

Jan 1 2021～Dec 31 2021

#CoD 2021 Story Events JP #JP story events

[ghosts-cyphera]

Harder.

╰﹒ sometimes a slip of Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley’s hand is all the push you need.

content/warnings: swearing and suggestiveness; gn!reader; wc: 1k

a/n: gods, it's been years since I've last posted my stories online, but I couldn't sleep after playing CoD and... well. those who get it, get it. feedback and requests are welcome! ♡

Your feet pounded the cement as you ran through the cargo hold, finding security from the midst of the rusty metal containers.

All around you shouts and calls erupted from your friends' lips—some followed by warm laughs, others by deep curses, as the Task Force 141 submerged into the practice session.

"Gaz, do you copy?" The call passed your lips as a warm chuckle, as you crouched behind an oil container. "I've just gotten Soap's dog tags."

"Oh, I know." The reply was spoken with a laugh. "He's sent Ghost to come and find you. Fuckin' dumb on his part, considering that—"

"His tags are the last ones we need to win." You nodded your head. "Any visual on him? The last I've seen him was when he swiped poor fucking Roach off his—"

"I only needed his dog tags, didn't I?"

You grinned at the deep voice echoing from the other side of the container. You should have focused on listening to him approaching, but then, when did you ever really hear him coming?

"Funny," you chuckled back at the man, as you planted your feet steadier against the ground, careful to not make a sound. "You see, Lieutenant, your tags are exactly what I need. So why don't you just go ahead and toss them to me? We can take it real nice and easy."

"'Cause that's how you fuckin' like it, eh?"

You could hear the laughter in his voice, slightly breathless from the time spent dashing around under the scorching sun. Just moments before you had cursed the heat under your breath as you'd felt the pearls of sweat rolling down your forehead. Running in full gear tended to get to the fittest of the force, yet it did have its benefits, too.

Benefits, such as the sound of Ghost's vest brushing against the metal of the container. At your ear level, right around the corner to your right.

You wet your lips with your grin. "Want me to show you just how I like it, Lt.?"

"Darlin', you and I both know that I can read you like an open fuckin' book."

You could hear the brush of his vest against the metal again, as he moved closer to you. You knew he was out of paint-ammo: Gaz had gotten away with his tags from mere luck only moments prior, which meant that you had the higher ground. The moment he moved to lunge at you, could take him down with a single pull of the trigger, and grab his tags off his soon-to-be paint-covered vest.

Yet what was the fun in that?

With an arched brow, you laid your gun on the pavement. The screech of it against the ground, as you kicked it out of both your reaches, did not go unnoticed by Ghost.

”Sure you wanna do that, love?”

"Just to make it fair and square," you chuckled.

"You know I can't just kick off half my fucking body, yeah?"

"Wasn't it just this morning that I wiped the floors with your—"

A gasp and a curse were all you could manage, as your back collided with the hard cement of the ground. Handling the shock of the impact was one thing, but seeing him towering over you, fucking victorious, was another pill to swallow.

"Jesus fuck, Ghost." Despite your voice being a mere pained groan, you could not shake off the laughter from your features: the same laughter that glimmered in his eyes. "You know we're just fucking practicing, right?"

"I know. But you see, whatever the fuck it was that you said about takin' it nice and fuckin' easy—," he chuckled, as he crouched by you, "just doesn't do it for me. So what do you say I take these…"

His skeleton-patterned gloves reached for the chain around your neck, and just as you rolled your eyes at the certainty of your team having lost over you letting down your guard, the events began to unfold.

Whether it was from his finger slipping on your glistening skin, or from you turning your head at the exact wrong moment—perhaps it was from the combination of both—his hand did not wrap around the chain of your dog tags.

Instead, Ghost's fingers wrapped around your throat.

One moment he was sure of the victory of his team. Next, his brain could not function. For there you fucking were, on your back with your eyes slightly widened and lips parted, and his hand—his goddamn gloved hand around your throat from all the fucking places.

The worst of it all was not the wave of embarrassment that flushed through him. The worst of it was how fucking good you looked.

Yet he knew.

He knew.

No, he should have known better than to let his guard down: to allow himself to get distracted by the tug of the corners of your lips, as you tilted your head ever so slightly, chest rising and falling with your heavy breaths, your eyes fucking twinkling. 

Yet as the fingers of your hand rested on his and the word passed your lips, fucking pretty, who could blame him?

"Harder."

To hell and fucking above. From your breathless request, his lips parted involuntarily under his mask. To say what, he did not know: plead, maybe, for the first time in his life.

No, it wasn't pleading and begging you wanted from him, was it? Quite the fucking opposite.

No. Focus.

Fucking focus, Lt.

Using the fleeing moment of his racing thoughts to your advantage, you pushed off the ground and brought your knife—sheathed—to his throat. The twinkle in your eyes was brighter than ever, and as you laughed, the sound was all but menacing.

"Really, Ghost?"

"Don't even fucking begin," he cursed, breathless, as your fingers wrapped around the chain around his neck, and tugged off the dog tags. 

Yet as long as he had tried to deny it, it was not the slight touch of humiliation of having lost that made his head spin. You—he wet his lips, as he watched you twirling the tags around your finger—were going to be the goddamn death of him, and for one reason or another, he was ready to welcome it with open fucking arms.

“Ready for round two, sarge?” His chuckle was deep as you tossed his dog tags back to him, your eyes twinkling with challenge. “You know, I’m not gonna take it fuckin’ easy on you now.”

“Oh, that’s mutual, Lt.” 

That—Ghost wet his lips with a chuckle—that he was fucking counting on.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fluff #ghost cod x reader

[mxiaogod]

— 15. [FANTOMĂ] GHOST / SIMON RILEY  X FEM! AFAB READER

WARNING : MANHANDLING, DEGRADATION, PRAISE, FEAR PLAY, DOUBLE PENETRATION, KNIFE PLAY, BONDAGE, SPIT PLAY, MASK KINK, IMPACT PLAY, OVERSTIMULATION, BLOOD, PRIMAL PLAY, SIZE KINK, DARK CONTENT! NSFW, (DNI IF YOU AREN’T 18+)

A/N : The story will be substantially altered, and certain portions may not be linked to the original lore of COD. I do not play the game, nor am I educated in the military field; this is simply self indulgent. ALL OF THIS ARE A WORK OF FICTION AND IS LABELED AS DARK CONTENT, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

And a big thank you for 342 followers.💐

— Ghosts are a tale, a haunting narrative; some may find them symbolic, but they are essentially a mental construct; some may believe in them, while others do not. They are terrifying, instilling fear in the hearts of those who cross them.

Your trembling fingers grasp the firm soil beneath you, gripping it with might. The thumping of your heart synchronizes with the heaves of your chest, under your nails are caked with dirt, twigs and dead leaves entangling with your hair. You’ve been running for what felt like hours now, you’ve fallen and got back on the soles of your bare feet more times than you can count, your frail fingers grazing the tender bruises trailing down your thighs as you  try to ignore the constant throbbing in your skull.

A twig snapping causes your head to snap up, wintry wands, waved by nature's hand, take on a bold black silhouette in silvery air; a sob caught in your throat. You get up by the palms of your hands, sliding your back up against the tree as you run, tears blurring your vision by the sheer fear that has its grip in your heart. Multiple debris has dug into your foot but you paid no attention. Through the dance of fog, the  twirl of mist, a small, cozy cabin sits atop of firm land, big enough to play cat and mouse with whoever is running after you. You immediately seek shelter, your frail body slamming the aging, oak door. You slam it shut, pushing an old book case to block the door with whatever strength you had left.

You grab ahold of the ends of your dress, wet from the rain and caked with mud, wringing it with your hands. You start to look around, a measly wooden chair and table sits on the corner, spotlighted by the moonlight, book shelves after book shelves that are littered with rubbish. Your feet thud against the wooden floor as you near the lone desk. A wall of newspapers, pages torn from magazines and books are slacked onto the peeling walls. You grab one that piqued your interest, ripping it off the wall and reading it with trembling fingers.

As you take in the information, a prickling sensation by your nape alerts your senses, tears brimming your eyes as your gut drops. The paper crinkled in your hand as you fell to your knees. “No, no, no!” 

��Found you.” Strong arms held you by your armpits, lifting you into the air. A scream tore from your throat, pain spiraling up to your spine by being slammed onto a shelf. “Fuck! What do you want from me, please let me go!-” You were interrupted by a pointer finger touching your cold lips, “Shh” he said. You finally had the courage to open your eyes, widening as you were faced with a man bigger than you, his face concealed in a skull mask, eyes blown with primality. Your mind, hazed from previous events, is confused by the calmness emanating from him, but the danger was overpowering.

Your whimpers subside as tears lick the flesh of your cheeks. He brings you into the bathroom, tying your arms to the shower head with a crimson rope he picked up on the way.

He steps back and admires his work as your chest heaves from the intakes of air, nervousness and fear wrapping it hands and gripping your throat, along with your heart.

"What did I say, hm?" He inquires gently, his deep voice rumbling deep within his chest. He's so large that you had to bend your head back to face him. As a display of defiance, you shake your head and purse your lips.

“I asked you a question, love.” He repeats, “To- To stop roaming these forests.” you respond, voice steadying. “Right, and you didn’t listen.” you can’t help but feel ashamed for defying him at his disappointed tone. “You said I can’t be here because there are dangerous people around, but you’re lying, I haven’t seen anyone around, except you.” 

“Exactly.” His tone is gruff as he tears your dress off down the middle, ridding you of clothes except your underwear. You gasp and cross your leg, tugging your arms down in an attempt to cover yourself.

“You look so beautiful like this, all filthy and afraid.” As his fingers caress the apple of your cheeks. You flinch from his touch, turning your face to the side. “You scared of me love?” he says, almost humorously. “Isn’t that the reason you come here, everynight? To come see me? Because you know you’ll only get that fear you crave from me.” 

“Does it make you wet, knowing that people fear me? Knowing that you’re the only one who has gotten close enough?” He chastises, “Your curiosity will get you in danger, my love.” Your stomach caves, thighs pressing together as you try to resist the nature of your very being. You tried, tried to resist the chase, the thrill, the fear that this man has brought to you, but it had gotten so addicting, so inhabitable to the point you live and breath for it.

You tell yourself that it’s wrong, so wrong to be living like this, living with threats behind, chasing after you but you couldn’t resist the temptation, couldn’t stay away from him, so raw and untouched. 

His face had gotten closer, you could feel his hot breath on your cheek through his balaclava, your lips part open as you welcome all the ugly parts of him, all the sick and twisted elements that you’re willing to take from him, and he knows that with how you bare yourself to him, like an offering to a god. “Please.” One word was enough for him to kiss your lips through his mask, your hips immediately rutting against his thigh. “I’m going to fuck you til’ sunrise.”

His big hands grip the plush of your hips, helping you to tilt your hips back and forth in his thick thighs until he sees you forming a wet spot on his combat pants. “Look at that, grinding on my thigh like a little slut. My little slut.” He moves high thigh away, and you give him a desperate whine in return. 

A sharp, glinting metal trails from your sternum, to your hips, a sharp cry escaping from your lips as it digs through skin, just light enough to leave a scar. The knife moves to the side of your hips, tearing through the thin fabric of your underwear, baring your swollen cunt to him. 

He circles your clit with the rubber handle of his knife, spelling his name, you couldn't decipher it with your hazy mind, pleasure rolling off in waves. He trails it back up your torso, your slick sticking to your skin. “Spit on it.” He instructs and you do, sticking out your tongue and letting your saliva drip into the handle while maintaining eye contact. Your arousal and your saliva mix together as he inserts the handle into your cunt, your legs automatically widening to welcome his assault. “Feel so good” you moan through heaving breaths, he smiles under his skull mask, kneeling down on his knees as he lifts half of his mask, exposing his red lips, parted open and wet with his saliva as he sucks your clit into his hot mouth. You throw your head back, hips gyrating on his face as the knife pumps in and out of you, his hands that grips the sharp end of the knife, digging into it, his crimson blood trailing down his forearm dripping down his elbow onto the bathroom floor. Your eyebrows knit and your eyes close in pleasure, your hips shaking from the stimulation. He spits into your clit as he rubs it with his other hand, his eye trained on your face, there’s nothing he loves more than seeing your face contort with pleasure.

“Look down so you can see how I’m on my knees for you, bleeding and desperate to taste you, look and cum for me.” He stated firmly, you trail your eyes down and meet him and it was a sight you’ll never forget, pleasure climbs up your spine, coursing through your veins, consuming you whole.

“That’s it, scream for me, sounds so beautiful.” You come down from your high, head lolling to the side. He nips and sucks you clean until he’s satisfied, “That’s my good pussy, yes it is.” He coos. . 

He stands back up, throwing his knife to the side as he turns you around, the rope twisting harder into your wrist as you wail in pain. His combat boots kick your left feet to the side, widening your legs for him. He grabs ahold of your waist, his other hand pressing down your lower back, arching you beautifully.

He presses his hips into your bare ass, humping and thrusting as he releases groans beside your ear, you bite your lips as you thrust back, his movements getting harsher and harsher until you hear him zip his pants down, hurriedly taking his cock out.

You look back at him, stroking his cock, standing tall with his tip swollen and dripping with pre cum, veins bulging as he grabs himself at the base, his hips rutting into his palm. “Please- want it so bad.” You plead, throwing your ass back onto his hips as he catches it with his palm, steadying you as he guides the head in. “Fuck-”

“Does that feel good?” He asks as he pulls out, and thrust back in. “Oh I bet it does.” He pants as he thrusts his hips, making you take the entirety of his length. A beaded chain, wraps around your thighs, his hand curling against it as you feel it embed into your skin, the chain dangles as he fucks into you, his dog tag.

“Fuck, it’s too much, can’t anymore-” as your hands push his pelvic back.  

Smack!

“You’ll take it because I said so.” He said, thrusting harder, tilting his hips as he repeatedly hits your g-spot. “This is for doing a good job.” He whispers, wet lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You feel him spit into his hands, his thumb circling your puckered hole as he inserts it inch by inch, “And this is for being a good girl.”

“Gonna cum, gonna cum-” You warn as your head falls back onto his shoulder, he lifts both your legs up, lifting you as he continues to chase his high, his cock bulging out your stomach.

“So good love, so good, fuck, cum with me- now.” His ragged moan beside your ear pushed you to the edge, pussy clenching on his girthy length. His hot cum fills your pussy, your eyes rolling back, saliva dripping into the side of your mouth from the immense pleasure.

You feel your arms loosen, as he unties the rope that binds your hand. 

“Care for a bath?” He whispers, rubbing his warm hands on your lower back as he carries you bridal style.

“What’s your name, Ghost? Will you tell me?” You ask, doe eyes pleading.

Your eyes snaps open, jaw trembling from the cry forming inside your throat. You feel your hips itch as you scratch, your scar making an appearance.

S.R

Etched into the skin of your hips, your hair sticking to your neck from the sweat. You dreamt of him again.

But that’s all he ever was, a figment of your imagination, haunting your dreams, instilling fear into your heart.

A ghost, Fantomă.

#ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #header by @/661ave #is he real or is y/n just delusional😧 we may never know😁

[floralpascal]

Teasing Headcanons - TF 141 + Alejandro, Rudy, & König

Summary: Seductively teasing and being teased by the COD MW2 boys outside of the bedroom...

Rating: Explicit (nsfw, mdni)

John Price

Oh. Oh wow. 

There’s no man on this earth that can tease better than John Price

As in all things, he’s an expert at it. To him, it’s a game of strategy and precision, two things he’s extremely good at

John isn’t in a rush when he teases you. He plays the long game and he plays it extremely well

It’s never anything overt from him. He makes little comments in your ear over time, each one dirtier and more suggestive than the last

He knows exactly what to say to get you excited. Every time he teases you, he learns more and more about what gets you needy for him and files it away for next time

He’ll discreetly squeeze your ass when he can, but usually his teasing is all verbal. He loves to see just how riled up he can get you when he’s barely even touched you

John’s goal is to have you so needy that you’re begging for him - a goal he’s never failed to achieve

His facade of calm, collected innocence is unshakable. You genuinely don’t understand how he does this all with a straight face. With the calm way he looks as he talks to you, someone might think he was talking about the goddamn weather.  Even once he’s built up to just whispering utter filth in your ear, no one could ever guess from his demeanor that he’s teasing you for being so needy for him

Tease this man at your own risk. I mean, you’ll love the result but please be ready for the intensity of this man when he’s needy

Most of the time, if you try to tease him, you’ll just make him start teasing you - and that’s a game he’ll almost always win

He’s almost impervious to your teasing

But he does have a soft spot: lingerie

If you go out with him to a social event (especially one he can’t back out of) and then very quietly let him know that you’re wearing something new for him under your clothes? Now you’ve got him

He doesn’t tease you when he gets like this, he’s too busy trying to keep his own composure

Give him a little peek at a strap when you have a moment alone and you’ll see his knuckles go white for the rest of the time you’re out

He’s so pent up the entire time after that and it’s so nice to see him needy for a change. His eyes barely leave you 

When he finally gets you back home, you don’t even make it to your bed. You’re lucky if you even make it out of the entryway

He’ll fuck you with the lingerie on, hard and fast on the floor, the wall, the table, the couch, all the above - he doesn’t care and neither do you 

It’ll be a long night, eventually you’ll make it to your bed

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Ghost can take it and dish it out equally

He never says or does too much to tease. It’s a quick murmur of how good he’ll make you feel that night, a light brush of his hand a little too low over your ass, and a meaningful shared gaze with you

He always teases so little but somehow it always works on you

He really enjoys watching you get all worked up for him, slowly getting more and desperate for him

Ghost’s favorite thing is when you can’t take it anymore and you pull him away to some private room - be it your house, a private bathroom, a damn broom closet even - to be alone with him. When you do that, he’s always got a small smile on his lips when he pushes his mask up to his nose before you desperately pull him in to kiss you 

Usually, he can tease you without working himself up too much and he likes it that way. He loves the contrast between his calm demeanor and your flustered one

It’s a different story when you tease him though

He’s not nearly as resistant to your teasing as he pretends to be

For him, verbal teasing doesn’t do much, it’s the physical teasing that gets him

Wear clothes that show off in all the right places, bend over so he sees your ass, or trail your hand a little too high up your own thigh as he watches and he’s starting to crack

He’s also a sucker for a simple sultry look over your shoulder but he’ll never admit it

He’s so easy but he swears he’s not 

The mask helps him pretend like your teasing isn’t getting to him as much as it is, but you’ve learned just to watch for the building tension in his muscles

You know you’ve got him when he tightly crosses his arms over his chest

He can control himself for as long as he needs to but the second the two of you are alone, he’s on you

He’s really handsy after you tease him, he just needs to feel every inch of you that’s been tempting him for hours

John “Soap” MacTavish

Soap is a huge tease, himself. Serious teasing, not serious teasing, a little mix of both - he can and will do it all

The thing about Soap is that he’ll even lightheartedly tease you if there’s other people that overhear it, passing it off as a joke. It’s never anything intimate, just some passing comment that most would easily ignore

He’ll never make you uncomfortable, though. If you don’t like something - like him jokingly teasing in front of other people - it’s off the table

Any serious teasing he does is never overheard or witnessed by anyone else though. That’s for you and you alone

He’s so confident when he’s teasing you. He’ll whisper the most depraved filth in your ear with a smirk on his lips

But the thing is that if you tease him back, serious or not, he’s a goner

Tease him, please. I’m begging you. 

He needs it to survive

He takes your teasing as a challenge, too. He’ll try to meet your teasing with his own, always trying to one-up you. It’s a game of “who will cave first?” (It’s him, it’s always him who caves first)

So once you start teasing him, please don’t stop

It doesn’t even matter what you say as much as how you say it. If you say it suggestively, that’s enough to get his imagination in overdrive

Soap can’t take his eyes off you after that and he’s practically making heart eyes at you from that point forward

If you’re in public and he can’t get you alone, he’s so distracted that people usually let him out of whatever he was supposed to be doing

He’ll pull you into the closest quiet and secluded space he can find and fuck you hard and fast, all the while whispering in your ear about how easily you can drive him mad

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

He’s an unintentional tease

And it’s usually more physical than verbal

He’ll run his hand a little too high up your thigh or a little too low on your ass

He’ll hug you from behind and press his whole font against your back

He also leaves quick kisses on your neck, absolutely driving you insane

Gaz thinks it’s just small displays of affection for you, he swears he didn’t mean to tease

He’s always so surprised when you point out how he’s been teasing you. He never thinks about it that way until you point it out

But after he realizes how flustered it’s making you, he’ll start whispering mischievously in your ear every once and a while with a small grin on his face

“That’s really all it takes to get you excited, love?”

“Did you want my hand to go higher, babe?”

He’ll lightly chuckle when he sees your breathing pick up

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

But if you start doing all the teasing things to him that he did to you, suddenly he understands

He goes silent when you tease him. He’s so flustered and unsure what to do

BIG “I can dish it out, but I can’t take it” vibes (and that’s so sexy of him)

Gaz can mostly endure your teasing if he has to. He can usually muscle through it until he finally gets you alone

But if you sit on his lap after you’ve been teasing him for a while, that’s his final straw

If you’re out in public, he’ll make a flustered excuse for why you two are leaving and then get you home as soon as possible

I feel like he would also be down for car sex if he was pent up enough and it would take too long to get you home

Alejandro Vargas

Doesn’t tease you

He could do it (and do it so well) if he wanted to, but he’s too impatient for that. If he’s talking dirty in your ear, he wants to be able to do something about it now

Plus, if he tried to tease you, he would end up working himself up, too

But, oh boy, can you get him riled up when you tease him

You only have to say one suggestive thing and you can see the change in his demeanor

If you tease him when you’re alone at home with him, I hope you’ve cleared your schedule for the rest of the day because you’re not leaving again. It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is or what you had planned, he’s getting you into your shared bed and keeping you there

Now, what’s way more fun is when you tease him while you’re both out and surrounded by others

Whisper in his ear how badly you want him, that you’re wearing a new set of lingerie under your clothes, or (better yet) that you’re not wearing any underwear and he is gone

Physical teasing works the exact same way. Bending down where he can see, grazing your hand along his thigh a little too high, holding his gaze while you wrap your lips around something like a popsicle

Once again: it’s so easy for you to rile him up

He’s ready to drop everything to take you home after only a few of your teasing gestures

If he can’t get out of whatever he’s doing and has to simply endure your teasing, he’ll be super short and grumpy with everyone and everything. It’s like he’s in physical pain

Once he does get you home, all your transgressions are forgotten. Just know it is going to be a little rough and very desperate 

Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Doesn’t tease you, he’s not very good at it and has never quite figured out how to do it well

He also just much prefers it when you tease him

Dear god, please tease this man, he absolutely eats it up

He enjoys every torturous second of it

Physical teasing? Verbal teasing? Even just giving him a suggestive look? He wants it all

The way he sees it, your teasing shows how much you love him, that you want him that much

He likes any type of teasing you do, but it absolutely drives him insane when you sneak kisses down his neck

Or when you’re whispering in his ear and then you quickly and discreetly nip at the area just under his ear 

The one that really gets him, though, is when you kiss him and draw his bottom lip between your teeth before you pull away

Rudy will watch you walk away after you do it, his eyes hooded and a lovestruck smile on his face 

He loves the anticipation of it all and can endure your teasing for however long you want him to, either alone or in public

If you’re in public, others just notice that Rudy seems a little spaced out at times. Other than that, he seems pretty normal on the outside

Rudy never understands how no one ever seems to catch the two of you or notice just how whipped he is

But you can see how his eyes dilate, the way he drinks you in every time he looks at you 

On those nights, the sex you have once you get back home is absolutely mindblowing and intimate

König

Literally can’t tease to save his life

Couldn’t even do it if you asked him to

He would overthink it way too much and feel embarrassed even trying

When he’s out and about with you, his touches and words are nothing but innocent

Might unintentionally tease if he’s working out in front of you though. He somehow doesn’t understand how his straining, sweaty, ridiculously defined muscles as he physically exerts himself could be considered teasing. He never complains about the outcome though 

He loves the fact that it drives you wild. It really helps that it keeps him from being self-conscious about it 

König will start to blush anytime he knows you’re watching him work out, though. He knows by now that it means you’ll desperately pull him aside after he’s done 

“B-but I’m all sweaty…” he doesn’t understand that that’s the point

This man can’t withstand your teasing, especially if you’re in public. He may be fearless on the battlefield but he’s like putty the second you tease him

You can tease him in public as long as others don’t see or overhear it. That would send his social anxiety spiraling. So whispering to him is usually the best option

Whisper in his ear about what you want him to do to you later and that’s all it takes to get him flustered for you. OR, even better, if you whisper to him about everything you want to do to him (one little whisper about that makes him lose his damn mind for you)

If you start hardcore teasing him like that, he’ll melt

Thank god he wears the hood because he’s blushing so hard underneath it

It doesn’t take much before he’s practically begging to take you home so he can do everything you wanted him to do for you

#cod mw2 #cod mw2 headcanons #john price #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rudy parra #könig #call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare 2 #my writing

[1whore1gang]

1Whore1’s COD Guide!!

Masterlist:

Soap:

Soap in a relationship

Being Soap’s favorite stargirl

Marrying into the Scottish Royal Family with Soap as your Bodyguard (part 2 coming soon)

Snippet of The Christmas Trap (cancelled story)

Drabbles:

Hybrid!141

- a mission gone wrong causes you all to lash out against Shepherd

- in which your alphas need to help you NSFW!!!

Ghost:

“I thought you were dead”

Captain Price:

-in which you wear the wrong underwear

One Shots/ TF141:

141 x reader: You okay Honey?

-small sexual themes

- in which the boys play rock, paper, scissors to decide who will pretend to be your boyfriend so men at the bar don’t hit on you

Post MW3 Drabble:

Soap x Reader, Ghost x reader- in which you navigate life after the devastating events of MW3

Ongoing stories:

it’s the little things🤍

John Price x Reader

-in which the 141 boys turn into littles and you and John Price must figure out how to manage the situation together as a team

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3 (please read the warnings)

PART 4 (warnings)

PART 5

PART 6 (NSFW, MDNI!!)

PART 7

PART 8 (MDNI, please read the warnings! PLEASE)

PART 9

#captain price x reader #modern warefare 2 x reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #tf141 x reader #cod mw2 #johnny mactavish #simon ghost riley

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello! I’ve been following you for a bit now, and all of your recommendations have been super cool and interesting! If you don’t mind me asking, do you have any recommendations for really long indie ttrpgs? One that could match the length of dnd or CoD books, I mean. The specifics don’t matter as much, I just really like sinking my teeth into long game books like that.

THEME: Long Indie Games

Hello friend! Fear not, I have a multitude of long indie games to recommend for you!

Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine, by Jenna Moran.

Length: 578 pages.

The Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG is the diceless RPG from Jenna Katerin Moran, author of the well-regarded Nobilis and an important contributor to Eos’ Weapons of the Gods and White Wolf’s Exalted RPG.

Chuubo’s is a special beast. I personally don’t know how one actually plays this game, but the book itself is fascinating to read. It has recognizable parts such as character skills, Health Levels, and XP, but I think I’d want to sit down with a physical copy to be able to properly read it and get a handle on how you play through a story. If you enjoy a challenge, or even just something enchanting and evocative, I’d recommend Chuubo’s.

Part-Time Gods, by Third Eye Games.

Length: 318 pages.

The gods of today are shadows of what the old gods possessed. Their power has been heavily diminished, and many choose to live a regular, mortal life, revealing themselves as gods only when absolutely necessary. The reason for this is twofold. First, fate doesn’t like it when the gods share their secrets with a mortal. Unless they are the god’s worshipper, terrible events and horrific accidents have a way of happening to the people closest to the god. Secondly, divine works attract creatures and monsters called Outsiders, created by the Source (after its capture) to destroy any god they encounter.

This is a game that’s on my TBR shelf - and it might stay there for a while, because this is another pretty lengthy book. I am very grateful for the index at the back of this book, because I think this would be pretty difficult to navigate. Part-Time Gods is set in the modern-day, but the premise behind your god-hood is very unique, so one of the first chapters is dedicated to telling you what exactly it means to be a part-time god, part-time taxpayer. The book also contains small pieces of prose set in the world, meant to give you a flavour of the genre and tone intended by the designer. I’m really interested in the concepts expressed in this game, and I hope I have enough brain space to read it in the future!

We Are All Mad Here, by Shanna Germain.

Length: 226 pages.

Jack climbing the beanstalk. The little mermaid finding her voice. Alice struggling with the madness of a place unruled by the laws of reality. The queen. The child. The woodsman. The knight. When you think about fairy tales, who do you become? Where does your imagination take you?

We Are All Mad Here is a tabletop game about fairytales and mental health, providing you with new options for the Cypher System while also creating a setting about visitors to a magical land called the Heartwood. In the fiction, only those who have had some kind of struggle that affects their mental health are able to travel to this magical land. Germain intends this to be a way to tell a narrative about mental health using allegory and metaphor. The Cypher system itself is pretty complex, and you probably won’t be able to play a game of We Are All Mad Here without the core rulebook, so it might be worth it to take a gander at the Cypher System Rulebook while you’re at it.

Coyote & Crow, by Connor Alexander.

Length: 484 pages.

More than 700 years ago, a massive disaster changed the course of history. The world was plunged into centuries of darkness, but the event also introduced the Adanadi — the Gift — a strange mark that appeared on all life. This mark would have an enduring impact on humanity. Centuries later, the Earth is healing. New, advanced nations have risen. Ancient legends stir.

Coyote & Crow is a pretty extensive and unique game, using pools of d12s pulled from your stats, as well as narrative beats such as character motivation, Gifts and Burdens to help give your character a personality. Because it introduces an alternate history and a drastically different future, the core book as a decent amount of lore to acquaint you with the city of Cahokia and the world that surrounds it.

This game has quite a bit of support out there, with adventures such as Stolen Heart, Laughter Lost & Found, and The Case of the Great Underwater Panther.

Impulse Drive, by Adrian Thoen.

Length: 242 pages.

Play a crew of misfits and scoundrels living a life of danger and adventure as they explore space and try to make their ship a home in a technicolor sea of stars. Fight dangerous organizations, investigate unnerving mysteries, and find trouble in a game that rewards you when your characters face their shortcomings. Grow your characters and ship with new gear and abilities as you discover and create the universe together, as a group.

For a PbtA game, Impulse Drive feels pretty substantial. It provides a quick primer on Powered by the Apocalypse games, and includes advice for the players as well as the GM. This might be because the game includes a lot of details about gear and vehicles, as this is a space game that cares what your party has on hand and what their ship can do. There’s also advice on changing the game, extra moves, and a roll table for mutations! If you’re looking to see how to play out a space adventure in a more narrative-focused system, you might want to check out this game!

The Shrike, by Alice the Candle.

Length: 162 pages.

The Shrike is a game about fantastical voyages aboard a skyship. It's inspired by Avery Alder's The Quiet Year, John Harper's Lady Blackbird, Italo Calvino, Ursula K. Le Guin, and utopian and dystopian fiction. It features four complete adventures (two multiplayer, two for solo play). 

This indie game is on the short side of this list, but it’s definitely long by indie standards. The author has provided 4 different adventures that you can read through, which will likely spark your imagination along the way. Interestingly, the voyages are placed in the first half of the book, while the information about Solo, Co-operative. and Guided Play embody the second half of the book. I’m not sure how I feel about this layout choice, but if you’re mostly looking for a book that you can read, flipping through the voyages might be more interesting to you than the rules of play.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Lancer, by Massif Press. 431 pages.

The Wildsea, by Felix Isaacs. 364 pages.

Exceptionals, by Sahoni. 253 pages.

Gubat Banwa, by makpatatag. 399 pages.

Monster Care Squad, by Sandy Pug Games. 176 pages.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #asks #game recommendations #long games

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #6: A Nightmare on Elm Street

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #6 Summary: Marc spends the evening with you and Steven gets a haunting

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake mentioned)

Word count: 3k

Content: ANGST, the yearning, ghost probs (no body), language, dealing with death and grief, manner and COD discussed, violence, spooky/horror elements, probably inaccurate DID (show based), not beta’d

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PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

"And...and maybe don't sell the house just yet?" You barely managed that request in a choked whisper. "If this is the only place I am besides the dark, and...and you guys leave then, I'm afraid - "

"Of the dark," he solemnly concluded. Reaching for your hand again - pointless, though it was, he made a vow. "Baby, look at me. I will never leave you here alone. Never. I promise you."

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Marc wanted to stay home with you all day, but you insisted that they lead normal lives. You promised to come back.

He wanted to kiss you goodbye. You’d just told each other you loved one another. It almost seemed as if he was headed downtown to work, and you would venture into your loft to write for the day.

You missed your loft. Why couldn’t you go in there? Maybe if you concentrated hard enough…

You missed writing. Maybe you could write some children’s ghost stories. After all, you now had first hand experience.

What…were you thinking? Write?

Was this death? Feeling all these tormented emotions? And good ones too? The sparkle of laughter with Jake, the yearning to talk to Steven, the love and longing, even lust for Marc.

And the guilt. You were too harsh with Marc before, when you said he ran away from pain or punched it in the face. You had to see him again soon, to apologize. He was going through too much already - he didn’t deserve that - not from you.

“I’m so sorry, Marc,” you whispered into the stillness of your bedroom. As if he could hear you.

The feelings washed over you, making you feel…alive. And clearer than you had felt since you first became aware of yourself, or of this room.

You waited all day. This was new. It was boring. But boring was better than darkness. Feeling anything was better.

You were practically bouncing with anticipation by the time the sun set. Finally Marc arrived.

You called his name as soon as you saw him climbing the front steps to your front door, and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of you.

“Baby? You okay?” He huffed, having run up the stairs.

“Yes, you can see me?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, pulling off his jacket. “The way you were calling my name, I thought…something was wrong.”

You both realized how weird that sounded. Being dead kind of meant everything was wrong.

So you told him about your day. How you thought and thought and felt so many feelings. How you wondered about writing and your loft. How you never went back to the Dark Place. And how very sorry you were for what you said to him.

“I’m the last person who should be confirming your worst thoughts about yourself, Marc,” you explained. “Please forgive me, I felt terrible about it all day. I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” No way he wanted you of all people to feel anything negative. You were the one who lost your life after all.

You talked for a little while longer, about simple things - his day at work, his walk home. Ordinary things. He mentioned speaking with Ms. Marjorie and you shared that you heard Steven speaking about her quaint, lovely shop.

Finally, Marc’s stomach growled, letting you both know that he needed some dinner. He could plainly see that you were anxious about him leaving the room.

“Just gonna grab some leftovers, honey, I’ll be right back,” he softly assured you.

Great. Now you were a clingy ghost. What the hell…

He wasn’t gone long, by your estimation anyway, and ate in your bedroom, with the two of you sitting on the bed. Then you felt even more guilty, as if you were trapping him here somehow.

“Hey, is the World Series on yet?” You asked, knowing October meant baseball postseason.

“Next week,” he clarified. “Why do you ask?”

You smiled at him knowingly. “Well, I mean…you can go watch baseball if you want to. You don’t have to sit in here all night.”

He pretended to be offended. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No! No, I just…I want you to live your normal life…” You trailed off, sighing wistfully.

“Fuck it, I’ll just move the TV up here. Or get a new one,” he shrugged. “I want to be with you.”

That proclamation sobered you both, because it was the whole problem. You couldn’t be together. Not really.

“I want that too,” you whispered, easing a little closer to where he sat, leaning against the bed’s headboard. “It’s all I want. To be with you. But…it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” he found himself telling you, without really thinking before he spoke.

You frowned, confused.

“That’s what you kept saying, or…some voice I kept hearing when you first started appearing to me. ‘It’s not too late’. Even Ms. Marjorie said it. I didn't realize it til now but...I've heard it a few times: 'it's not too late.' What do you think it means?"

You shook your head. "No idea. It's obviously too late for us to really be together...isn't it?"

The sight of your wide, hopeful eyes broke his heart. "There has to be a reason you're here."

You talked a little while longer, about what this all could possibly mean. And instead of fading away, you seemed energized...and felt more alive, but you definitely were not.

Marc kept trying to touch you on instinct and you were most assuredly a ghost.

So you talked about ghosts: about myths and fables and any lore you could think of. You even looked it up online. Marc admitted Steven might be the better consult regarding this topic, but you both soberly remembered that he couldn't see you.

Which hurt because you felt overlooked and Marc felt crazy. But it wasn't Steven's fault, clearly.

"Ghosts can have unfinished business," Marc read from his phone screen. "All right, who are you still pissed at?"

The tension in his shoulders and the scowl he normally wore had relaxed as the night wore on. He almost seemed like his old self again. The person he was with you. The loving partner you adored, not the grief-stricken lonely man who questioned his sanity.

"No one," you thoughtfully answered, not knowing how the next words out of your mouth would change everything. "Well maybe the asshole who killed me."

Marc's phone dropped out of his hand and hit the mattress. He went deadly serious in one second flat. The mirth in his eyes turned stone cold - his lips parted as he drew a shuddering breath.

"W-what did you just say?" He choked out.

Shit, that wasn't a topic you should have made light of, or thrown around carelessly. Marc must still be reeling from your murder, if not blaming himself for it somehow.

"I'm sorry I said that - "

"What...did you say?" He covered his mouth with both hands as his eyes burned with fury. Pushing up off the bed, his fingers tore through his hair. "You...you weren't murdered," he gasped, his chest heaving the way it normally did right before he panicked. He wouldn't likely be here for much longer.

"You weren't," he hissed out a whisper. "What are you saying? There was an autopsy. You weren't...what are you saying!?"

Shit.

You floated off the bed, bewildered. You hadn't considered, even for a moment, that Marc was unaware of how you died. And it hadn't exactly come up.

"Marc, I...it doesn't matter how it happened, really. I didn't mean to...I thought you knew - "

"Yes, it really fucking does matter," he snapped, his fists clenched so tight they were turning white. His wild, frantic eyes landed on you, and seeing your distress, he shook his head in agony.

"You were...how? Who did this?" He let out a choked sob. "Tell me who. Who hurt you?"

"I-I don't know him. Marc, I thought you knew. If I wouldn't have gone to see Jake that night - "

"What?"

You went into the city the night you died? And Jake never fucking thought to mention it?

"I...I was on my way to see Jake." You did that sometimes - ride around with him at night, when Marc and Steven would have the next day off. It was a way to spend a little extra time with Jake, in his environment - his own little world. Plus it was fun to stay out all night, driving people around, eating at your favorite diner...making love in the back seat...

"I never made it," you explained. "I-I was still here in town when a man grabbed me - covered my mouth. He was strong. Then he moved my arm and I felt a pinch underneath my armpit. And that's all. He...maybe he injected me with something."

Marc pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, almost doubling over in agony. "No. No, no, no, no." He banged his fists against his forehead and before you could follow your instinct to go to him - before you could even remember you wouldn't be able to touch him, he was gone.

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Steven straightened up, blinking a few times before using his sleeve to dry his eyes. "What?"

He glanced around, trying to get his bearings when he heard the most heartbreaking cry of anguish...

coming from you.

“Bloody hell!” Steven gasped, scrambling away from your visage - not because it was you. He simply wasn’t expecting anyone at all to be in his bedroom. And he still couldn't see you, but he did hear someone cry out.

“No, no, no,” you cried, knowing Steven couldn’t see you.

"Losing m'mind," he mumbled, drawing his hands to his chest. His eyes swept across the room nervously, but he saw nothing.

"Maybe this place really is haunted," he murmured to himself. Deciding to take an evening walk and shake himself out of his spooky mindset, Steven found his shoes before shuffling downstairs, leaving you alone and heartbroken.

The feeling of being alive was so close, you could almost taste it. Your chest heaved with emotion - your heart, which stopped pumping life through your veins months ago, raced with worry for Marc and longing for Steven.

"Steven, please," you gasped, in a manner that would have been tearful, except that you had no tears to cry.

But he was gone.

Steven no longer lived in complete oblivion as he once did. If he suddenly fronted, his cheeks wet with Marc's tears, there was clearly a reason. Maybe Marc was still seeing you. He wasn't sure right at the moment because his alter was quiet - nowhere to be found, really. And it wasn't a parlor trick. He couldn't force Marc to appear or share anything.

Perhaps your little bungalow truly was haunted. Without giving it much thought, Steven's feet carried him back downtown, straight to the "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties" shop.

He was looking for Ms. Marjorie. He wanted answers and somehow, he felt that she could give them.

But as he rounded the corner onto Main Street, he stopped short. There, right where the Mystic Delights shop should be, was...nothing. The building was dark and little run down. Unoccupied.

"Wait a minute..." Steven mused to himself, inspecting the darkened windows, where twinkle lights had recently shone out, welcoming him in. He scurried a few more doors down, to Mrs. Alraune's flower shop. Her store was closed, but in tact.

Retracing his steps, Steven tried to reason with himself about where Ms. Marjorie and her lovely shop could possibly be.

Finally, he decided to inquire in the corner drug store. He recognized the face of the cashier but didn't know her name. She looked to be in her early 20s and often rang Steven's order when he stopped in.

He inquired after Ms. Marjorie and the little shop that had come to mean so much to him in only a couple days.

Devon, the young cashier was named, told him she had been employed at the drug store since high school and that particular store had changed owners a few times. The city had tried to clean it up on many occasions but she couldn't remember an antique store - not recently, anyway.

"No, that's not possible," Steven argued. Realizing his words might offend, he apologized. "Sorry, I just...I swear there was a lovely little antique shop right there. The most extraordinary woman owns it..."

Realizing he sounded like he wasn't quite right, he offered up one more apology and left.

Steven felt more confused than ever. Where was Ms. Marjorie? And her shop? Who was making noises in his home? And why had Marc claimed to see you?

October 31st hadn't quite rolled around, but Steven was all done with spooks. He walked home, quickening his pace, fueled by confusion and agitation.

Once he reached your front yard, he saw the curtain of his bedroom rustling.

"All right, ghost," he firmly declared, "I'm coming up and you bloody well better make yourself plain. No more games."

He rushed up the front steps to unlock the front door, hoping with all his heart that, if you were here - if Marc really saw you - that he might see you too.

So he called your name.

"Darling, I know I haven't been able to see you, and...I don't even know if you're here, but please...please send me some kind of a sign."

Turning this way and that, he checked the living room, the kitchen. With a heavy sigh, he climbed the stairs to the bedroom, pausing at your picture in the hallway.

"What's happening, love? Marc is seeing you, and I'm apparently having tea with a spectre instead of a shopkeeper. Please...are you there?"

His shoulders slumped in defeat and confusion, he trudged the final step into your once-shared bedroom

...and there you were.

Right there, seated on the edge of the bed, wearing Marc's hoodie.

"Oh my days," he breathed, his eyes widening as he stepped right in front of you. “Darling? Is it really you?”

Your gaze, so forlorn, snapped up to his. “Steven?” You gasped, “Can…can you see me?”

He rubbed his eyes for good measure, then nodded eagerly. “You are here. Aren’t you, love?”

"Steven, oh my god," you breathed, rising to meet him, wishing with all your nonexistent heart you could throw your arms around him. "I've been trying to talk to you, but you couldn't hear me, or see me," You emphatically explained.

"God, I'm so sorry," he sincerely returned, his dark eyes shifting, studying you with concern. "I didn't mean to doubt you. I'm sorry."

He shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe it. Marc was right. H-how are you here?" Stepping closer, he interrupted himself. "Are you alright, love? You're not hurt or anything? I mean, besides the obvious..."

He trailed off, granting you a bewildered smile as he drew his hands close to his chest. Oh, how you missed this precious, adorable man of yours.

"No, I'm okay. I was with Marc before. Then you left."

You explained to Steven a little of what had been going on, with your talks with Marc and Jake. Then you asked Steven if any of them knew how you died.

"Coroner said your heart just stopped," Steven explained.

"Yeah because someone injected me with something," you supplied, feeling the need to pace back in forth, even though you were really sort of floating. "They didn't find anything in my system? A drug, or a puncture mark under my arm?"

"Darling you're not...you're not suggesting that you were...killed?"

Just the thought of some asshole taking you away from your life - from your stories, your loft, from the town you adored, from this house and from the man you wanted to marry and have a family with - the feeling of the helplessness and despair you felt in that moment boiled into rage.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you curled your fingers into fists, squeezed your eyes shut and cried out, sending a wave of energy jolting through your bedroom, knocking Steven clean off his feet. The power was so strong, it knocked the lamp off the bedside table, crashing to the floor, and lastly, the mirror over your dresser shattered.

You acted out of pure spectral instinct.

Steven reacted equally, having summoned his Mr. Knight suit without a second thought. He didn't even intend to do it - it just happened as soon as his mind registered the danger of falling and flying glass.

The sight of your partner "taking arms", or suiting up in his defense against you...

It absolutely shattered you. The coherent thoughts you wanted to share with your partner were as scattered as the shattered mirror glass.

Powerful emotions swirled and blurred into despair. You found yourself untethered from the sweet conversation, longing and desire with your partner - the serenity you had experienced here over the last day or so, with Marc and Jake.

The broken lamp sent the room into darkness and as you fell further into despair, you could no longer detect the white of Steven's suit, or see even the moon's glow through the window.

You thought you heard your name called, but it was galaxies away, the way a voice above the surface of a swimming pool sounds when you're underwater.

The sound faded and all that was left was the Dark.

next

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Moon Knight Masterlist

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#spectre fic #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #halloween #jake lockley #marc spector x you #steven grant x you #jake lockley x you #marc spector x f!reader #steven grant x f!reader #jake lockley x f!reader #moon knight system #spooky season #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #spooky season fic #ghost story #halloween love story #halloween fic #x reader #x you #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac fic #moon knight ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ #mcu

[icyblogs]

wc: 471

Is this a niche? Probably but you know what it’s all good. Anyway-- Thinking about COD and DND. I’m imagining this specific scenario with a patron!Ghost x warlock!Soap x reader.

Reader is just some plain ol’ human in a world of, well, fantasy with things beyond the wildest imagination- dealt the wrong cards in the hands of fate. Maybe for plot sake let’s say someone close to you died: a family or a lover, or maybe you’re running from something in your past. Something that causes you to look for ways to gain more power- or to protect yourself, something, right? Years of reading in the depths and restricted areas of libraries, of tracking down people- of searching before you find what you’re looking for. Going to what you would consider far away from civilization- let’s say the mountains- in case you unleash some sort of unholy evil on the land, looking to summon a fiend in order to get whatever it was in your heart that you desired. 

Long story short, the reader would attempt to summon said fiend or ancient being- and maybe fail instead of succeeding? Maybe they misspoke the incantation, or had the wrong offerings or simply misunderstood the situation- not realizing that just because you try to do a summoning doesn’t necessarily mean it would work. And of course, such beings that lock in a pact with people.. In more cases than not it’s typically at the lowest point in their lives, giving the poor unfortunate souls an offer they usually can’t refuse. So I'm thinking the reader ends up failing in the summoning quite miserably but of course being out far from civilization for the ritual causes well.. Something has gone wrong. You end up nearly dead, just adding to the series of unfortunate events surrounding your existence as a whole; and guess whose attention you capture? Patron!Ghost- offering you a chance at life- at a chance to survive. All you have to do is take the leap. Oh forming a contract? Silly thing, you already offered yourself as a whole with that little ritual you did earlier! Aren’t you happy- isn’t this what you wanted? 

Look- he’s even so generous to have one of his oldest worshippers warlocks to help show you the ropes. Isn’t that so nice of him? After all you’re just a little human with nothing else going for you. Everything else you've known is gone! What do you mean you don’t want to be locked away- this is what you wanted! You wanted the power to protect yourself- and well you got it in the physical form of a new guard dog! (: And better yet you’re getting all the safety you could ever need, tucked away from everything else! You don’t want this anymore? You’d really try to leave a pact? How cute. 

EDIT: If you liked this, you're in luck!! Started writing a story about this here! (:

#shh ik this isn't how pacts typically work #dark fic #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghoap x reader #patron!ghost #cod #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #i fear i dont know how to write this properly but i am attempting it- will i ever man up and post part one who knows! #its just like a blurb stuck in my head and i find it so difficult to get it out- i feel like it would also obvious be ghost x soap as well #but toxic relationship- seeing ghost through rose tinted glasses UGG IDK #ghost would be this like looming presence imo #cod x reader #cod mw2

[octopiys]

Random hcs that I've written into my cod stories lol enjoy

Ghost has vitiligo

Rodolfo knows french

Ghost, Soap, and Roach have tiny tattoos on their wrists of their callsigns

Roach can cook very well

Ghost is not allowed in the kitchen under any circumstance

Gaz shipped GhostSoap since they met

Gaz and Farah are unbeatable at poker

Soap collects little trinkets like a crow

Roach is so protective of König its not even funny

Soap and Gaz both fear heights

Soap also has a fear of elevators and dogs

Ghost doesn't have a driver's license, and Roach makes fun of him for it

Rodolfo and Ghost have both made weed brownies before

No one will admit that they were actually pretty good

Don't challenge Ghost in a snowball fight. You will die.

Soap's family loves Ghost to bits. He doesn't understand why.

Gaz often has pretty bad nightmares about the events in Chicago. König and Roach are always there to comfort him.

That being said, Roach duct taped Gaz to the ceiling once

It was because he superglued antennas onto Roach's helmet.

König taught himself German sign language on accident

Laswell, her wife, Price, and Nikolai spend the holidays together

Rodolfo has a 'tramp stamp'

Alejandro loves it

Rodolfo also rescues stray cats.

Laswell named one cowboy

Ghost and Rodolfo have a few matching scars

Price has been trying to quit smoking without telling anyone

Laswell approves, has been trying to do the same

#call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #alejandro vargas #alerudy #könig modern warfare #octopiys writing #nikolai belinski #prikolai #kate laswell #gaz cod #kyle garrick #gary roach sanderson #rodolfo parra #farah karim #alex keller #alex x farah #farah mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod hcs #cod headcanons

[courtdarkness]

CoD 2022 Story Events JP Edition

Jan 1 2022～Dec 31 2022 (sorted newest to oldest)

#CoD 2022 story events JP #Makai Nightmare story events 2022 #JP story events

[waffles-art-writing]

One Hell Of A First Mission - Task Force 141!Platonic x F!Reader - JOKER

Summary: The very first mission you (JOKER) go on with Task Force 141, you end up clearing a house and finding the one person you need to find wasn’t there anymore. You’re then quickly flown out to meet the Los Vaqueros which results in you jumping off a cliff and being helped out by the one person you wish you never had to work with again. (THIS FOLLOWS THE LINES OF THE START OF THE COD:MWII 2022. And is before the events of JOKER and the previous parts)

Proof Read: NOPE

Pairing: Task Force 141!Platonic x Female!Reader

WordCount: 5k

Age Rating: 16+ preferably

Codename: JOKER

KEY: Y’all should know this by now… Y/N - Your Name so on and so forth

Warning/Info: Normal COD Stuff, Guns, violence, swearing, depiction of action, horrible writing on my part. Kinda a slow burn but it is the back story of how JOKER join the 141. Philip Graves gets his own fuckin’ warning. Sorry not sorry. A lot of time skips, because I’m following the plot of the game for this one the next chapters coming!

PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS PARTS TO GET A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF JOKER! (If you want) This does take place before the events of JOKER and the previous parts.

Previous Parts can be found here: MASTERLIST (And other things I’ve written)

TagList: @studywithrosie01 Sorry for tagging you but you’ve shown so much love for this series so I thought I should tag for you this part! I hope you don’t mind! And @robins-fanfics (I hope I got the right user name lol) (Tell me if you want to be added or taken off the tag list for this series!)

———————————————————————

Your boot taps the ground rapidly, hands curled around the gun in your lap. “Calm down kid, they aren’t that scary” Price states, you’ve known him for a long while. He’s practically your dad at this point, he helped you throughout your career in the military. Pushed you to your limit to get you into the SAS which you’re beyond thankful for, yet right now you’re wondering if that was a bright idea. You’re meeting up with the Lieutenant of the Task Force that Price has made. You were the first one to meet Laswell in person, she had a nice, friendly smile but you could tell she is tough as nails. “I know Captain, but… he’s ‘The Ghost’ the man everyone is scared of, he bloody appears outta nowhere!” You state, looking over at the bearded man, he shakes his head lightly. “Well, you’ll be following his lead for now kid. He’s being instructed by Shepherd on this mission” you sigh at hearing this, you’ve had a few run-ins with the US military a few times. They couldn’t understand your accent for the life of them, that’s one of the many cons from living in a household with multiple accents under one roof.

You have no clue what this mission is going to be like, you’re meeting up with another man apparently. He’s meeting you and Lieutenant Riley at the tarmac, just as you’re scheduled to fly out. You can’t help the nerves that are filling your energy, the jitters of anticipation and the fear of what is to come next. “I’ll see you soon kid, stay safe” Price states, drawing you out of your running mind. You nod to him as you give him a fist pump, a light head bump. You two have always done that, a fist pump which turns into a light head bump of good luck, and see you soon. You never part ways without it.

You steel your nerves as you walk out onto the air field, catching a plane to meet up with the Lieutenant and the new guy. Not sure what to expect of your new team mates when you meet them, or how they operate. But there’s excitement bubbling in your veins.

———

“So you’re the new kid?” A grumbly voice sounds out from behind you. Spinning on your heel you come face to face with the signature skull of Lieutenant Riley. “Yes Sir” you state, not breaking eye contact, even though the cold sweat dripping down the back of your neck is screaming at you to run. “Come on then” he states, walking past you, his large frame towering over you, gulping back the nerves you trot after him. Quickly falling into step with the man.

The engine and blades of the chopper are loud, the wind it’s creating ruffling your jacket as you stand next to the Lieutenant. Both of you have stopped when an armoured vehicle with a bunch of soldiers in the back pulled up. Ghost was talking with Shepherd, “The Sergeant?” Ghost questions, he knew you were coming but didn’t know himself and another person were going to be leading this operation. Your interest piqued when you hear him say that. You subconsciously readjust the balaclava that’s on your face slightly, the sinister joker-like smile staring at anyone who looks. You watch as men jump off the armoured vehicle, waiting to see who is this new Sergeant that’s going to be leading you and other men into a war zone with the Lieutenant.

A man in a dark jacket approached you both as soon as he jumped off the vehicle. A smirk on his face already. “Let’s get ourselves a win, yeah L.T?” He states, bumping the Lieutenant’s shoulder with his fist. “Save ya a seat, sir…” you watch the exchange with raised brows, the black war paint around your eyes cracking slightly. The man nods to you too, the smile back on his face as he jogs off towards the chopper. “See you on the Chopper, Lieutenant” you state, quickly following the Sergeant. You hear a faint “Fucking Hell…” from behind you, a short snort leaving you as you jump onto the ramp. Looking for a seat. Waving from the corner of your eye catches your attention, it’s the Sergeant. You smile under your mask as you make your way over, throwing yourself into the seat.

“They call me Soap!” He states, holding his hand out to you, you take his hand with a firm grip. “Joker! Good to meet ya!” You notice the Scottish accent, it’s interesting to hear one compared to all the English accents you hear on a daily basis. Your nerves have been drowned out by the adrenaline rushing through your veins. This Soap seems to have a good energy about him, you could get used to this.

————

“Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays on board to land down range. Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive, but this is capture or kill” the Lieutenant states as he approaches the ramp that is lowering to let Brave team out. Both you and Soap stand to follow Ghost, you flick down your night vision as soon as you step out. You snicker lightly at hearing Ghost saying “Keep up Soap” honestly surprised he didn’t say that to you instead.

You kneel in the grass, out of the way of the chopper as it takes off to drop Apha team off down range. You jog after Lieutenant Riley, keep a few paces behind him. Your sniper rifle in your hands as your Semi Automatic is strapped to your back. You hear the radio chatter of the chopper in your ear, it’s louder than the blood rushing through your veins as you weave through the ruins of a stone building. You're zoned in on the mission, keeping your eyes peeled for anything and everything.

Suddenly you hear the frantic calls from the chopper, the whooshing hissing sound of a RPG being launched echoes through the night. The flares are not helping the chopper for the second missile. You come to a halt at the top of the small hill, the ground shakes form the impact of the aircraft plummeting into the ground. “Shit…” you curse under your breath, your knee digging into the dirt below you as Soap crouches down on your right and Ghost on your left. “Alpha, what’s your status?” Ghost asks over the comms, the crackling sound of coughing breaks through the haze. “Alpha, how copy?…” Ghost pushes for an answer. “Shit…” you curse under your breath. You block out the conversation over the comms, raising the Sniper up. Watching the flames lick the ground like a hungry beast, another missile hitting the chopper along with countless bullets raining down onto the downed bird.

“Ghost we need to secure the crash site now” Soap calls, his eyes moving from the chopper to the Lieutenant. “First, we clear for Hassan, that takes the heat off Alpha. Then we secure the crash site. Clear?” The timbre of Ghost’s voice cuts through the air like a knife. “Roger that.” Both you and Soap reply. “Let’s move” as soon as his words leave his mouth, you’re off your knees immediately, quickly falling in behind Ghost. Your boots hit the hard earth like thunder on the horizon, your rifle up and ready. You weave around small bushes, following Ghost through the low walls of what looks like a garden. “Force up to the house” his command is clear as you branch off to the side, Soap filling the gap between you and Ghost. You position yourself on the other side of the door, looking down the scope of your rifle. You glance up at Ghost and nod to him, he nods back to you and Soap. You hear the muffled yells of  “Kill all that they send here!” From the other side of the door. “Breacher Up” Ghost calls as he swings the heavy breacher into the wooden door.

—— Time Skip —— Mission With Los Vaqueros —

Your heart is thumping in your ears as you groan, pushing yourself to your hands and knees. “You good lass?” Soap questions, both of you just dropped down to a ledge on the side of a cliff. It has a hearty drop. You’re following a few of the men who work for Alejandro. Ghost is watching from above you, Alejandro with him. “Y-Yeah..” you cough, gripping your gun tightly as you turn around. “Oh hell no” you state, seeing the gap between the ledge you’re on and the one you have to jump to. Alejandro says something about cutting school and playing around these parts when he was younger. “Until the cartels moved in?” Soap quips before taking a running leap onto the ledge in front of you. Alejandro and Ghost jump down, quickly cutting in front of you and Soap. They easily shuffle along the small ledge on the side of the cliff, backs pressed against the wall as they move along it, you swallow down the nerves in your throat. Soap goes ahead of you, followed by Rodriguez - one of Alejandro's men - then you follow after. Your hands shake as you shuffle along the wall. Then the sound of a bullet flying past your head into the rock wall behind you makes you freeze. Ghost yells something that you don’t process as you watch Rodrigues get shot multiple times. His body falling away from the cliff, rag dolling down.

“JOKER MOVE IT!” Soap yells, ducking when a bullet flys over head. You shake your head free of fog, quickly shuffling most the way, taking the risk of leaping to the ledge. You do a tactical roll when you hit the ground, sliding up onto your knees. Breathing heavily, you don’t get a chance to breathe, Soap already pulling you up by your arm. You push yourself up onto the ledge that's higher, running after Soap and Alejandro. Ghost right on your heels. You throw yourself off the ledge onto the one that's lower, landing on your feet, stumbling into a sprint again. Rifle gripped tightly in your hands. You watch Soap disappear behind the lip of the ledge, realising you're gonna have to slide. Your hand falls behind you as you stick one of your legs out to brace yourself while sliding down the rough rock face, thankful you're wearing gloves and thick cargo pants. You stand just behind the others as they stand at the edge of the cliff, Ghost sneers out a “You led us to a dead end, mate.” You internally curse Alejandro.

Your blood runs cold when you see the Mexican soldier launch himself off the cliff, yelling out “We jump from here!”. “WHAT THE FUCK!” You yell, quickly looking over the ledge. “Don’t lose your weapon” he yells just before he lands in the water. “Your turn, Sergeant!” Ghost states, both you and Soap look between each other. “See ya down there, Lass.” He quips, doing a two finger salute before jumping. You back away from the ledge slightly, your head whips towards the Lieutenant. “Go kid, there’s no time! We stay here, we’re dead. Now jump!” you gulp as you tighten your grip on the rifle, you take a running leap off the ledge. You plunge into the icy water, your eyes screwing shut just before the impact. You quickly resurface, the water soaking the balaclava. Not helping with breathing, your breathing is heavy as you tread water. “You good, hermanos?” Alejandro asks. “Affirm” Ghost states, he’s next to you. “Soap?” The Scotsman nods his head “Breathing” he quips. “Joker?” You let out a small cough, shaking your head lightly to get the water out of your face. “Alive…” you mumble.

“Move down river to the bridge. Use the rocks for cover” Alejandro instructs, you all take off swimming down the river. You’re thankful you're going with the current, cause god knows you would’ve bailed and just went on land if you were desperate enough. Alejandro tries contacting someone on comms, you're too focused on not letting your heavy tactical gear get caught on anything under water, or drag you to the river bed. “Radio’s picking up somethin.” Soap states, you’re in the middle of the group, your smaller size getting dragged by the current quicker than the others. “Sounds American” Ghost states, he’s just behind you on your right. “Great, Yanks” you sneer. Everyone dives as soon as a vehicle comes into view, Alejandro stops behind a rock. Soap right behind him, Ghost a little further down. Before you can even attempt to stop at one of the rocks, Ghost grabs the strap of your vest, dragging you up next to him. “Thanks Lieutenant.” you mumble, you are situated just below the large long log that’s fallen across the river, resting on the large rock both you and Ghost are behind. You duck occasionally whenever bullets whiz past your head. Your feet slip and you plunge into the water, resurfacing quickly. Gasping for air as you grip onto the rough rock, you're thankful for the strap on your stifle still around your shoulder. “Fuckin hell” you curse.

“Keep pushing up river.” Alejandro calls. You groan as you struggle to keep your head above the water, and your gun trained on the shore where the enemies are. All three of the men are six foot plus, while you're below all their chins on flat ground. You dive underwater, seeing Ghost come to a stop at another set of rocks, Alejandro and Soap go around the two of you and perch themselves slightly down from you. You practically throw yourself onto the rock shelf that's just below the water, taking the short time to regain your breath. “Move up river! Go!” Alejandro calls again, you groan as you see them move off. Your eyes meet Ghost’s for a second. You bite your tongue and push off the rock, following after them. You dive under a log that's just above the water's surface. You resurface just behind a rock, coming face to face with a Mexican soldier who has their gun aimed at you, you're quick to train your rifle on them, letting a bullet lodge itself in the man's skull.

“The rivers slowing us down, mate!” Ghost calls, you can tell he’s agitated by being in the water for so long. “It gets shallow up ahead!” Alejandro states. “Oh thank god, the waters up to my fucking eyes!” You call, shooting down a few more men that are on the shore. You feel like your skin is in ice cold water, your clothing sticks to you as your plate carrier weighs you down. Boots slipping over the algae covered rocks, you just wanna rip the boots off your feet and the plate carrier off your chest. You push your way through the water, quickly grabbing the rock. You’re beyond thankful for the shallow water, you are crouched low behind a rock. You hear your lieutenant’s strong accent cut through the air, your stomach dropping when you hear what he’s saying. “Vehicles on the bridge!” You whip your head around to look at the bridge, “They’re not ours!” Alejandro calls “Fuck-! It’s the army!” You peek over the edge of the rock to look, eyes widening to see the heavily armoured vehicles roll onto the bridge. “Get to cover!” Ghost calls, you quickly duck back down and press your back up against the rock. “We have to hold here and get extraction” Alejandro states. Soap slides up next to you, Ghost next to him then Alejandro. “We can’t do shite against that armour!” The Scotsman states, you reload as you listen to the firefight happening.

Suddenly an American accent cuts through the firefight “This is shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position. Danger close!” You realise who is speaking, it's Philip Graves, the man you’ve worked with in the past. “Who the hell is that?” Alejandro asks, “Commander Graves. Shadow Company. They’re with us.” Ghost states, he glances at you when he realises you’ve gone very quiet when the American’s voice cuts through. The rumble of the bridge getting hit by the large shots trembling the ground, you watch as the bridge crumbles  “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7! Good Shots! Fire for effect!” Ghost says over the comms. “All stations, no enemy movement detected. You’re clear.” Graves states over the comms, you sigh as you stand shaking out your shoulders. “It’s good to see you boys.” You grumble lightly under your breath when the American states this “Likewise, mate” Ghost states, he nudges you to move when Alejandro calls ‘This way!’ You fall into a run, splashing through the water, jumping over a few larger rocks. “Graves, we’ve located a vehicle for exfil.” Ghost states as you all run up the slight hill from the river towards a pick up. “Roger that. Be advised, we got a possible hit on Hassan, two kicks north of your position.” Grave states, you roll your neck as you come to halt by the back door of the pick up, climbing into the back. “That’s cartel land. They have a compound there.” Alejandro states, you’ve been quiet the entire time. “Load in!” Ghost calls. “Shadow-1, stand-by…” You watch as Ghost slides in next to you, Soap climbing into the front seat and Alejandro into the driver's seat. “I’ll drive,” Alejandro states. “You boys, good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?” Graves asks, everyone looks at each other. The boys nod, you just shrug as you look out the window. Ghost watches you with a raised brow hidden under his mask. “Let’s wrap this fucker up, Graves” Soap states. “Solid copy. We are pushing to the target di-rectly. Shadow-1 out.” You slump back into the seat. Letting out a sigh, you rub the space between your brows, pushing the balaclava up a little.

—— Time skip to grabbing Hassan ——

“Breaching” Soap calls, the door gets bashed open by the Scotsman. “They’re here!” “Get the Major upstairs!” Multiple cartel members yell. You’re the first one to shoot down a few men and spot the man you’re all here for, you quickly switch on the comms, the throat mic switching on. “Shadow-1! Positive ID on Hassan!” You call, rushing forward. “He’s moving upstairs!” Soap calls, he’s right behind you, followed by Ghost and Alejandro. Grave’s brows raise when he recognises the female voice come through the comms. “Graves, he’s exiting the second floor! North-west side!” Ghost states over the comms. “Got a visual on Hassan!” Alejandro states, you're quickly moving across the second floor outside. You ignore whatever is happening over the comms, you enter the building again. “Get down!” Soap calls “Get down! Now!” Alejandro growls. “Get the fuck down!” You sneer, your sights aimed directly at Hassan’s head, “Who the fuck are you?” Hassan questions, his voice holding venom. The man who was with Hassan is now dead on the ground, Alejandro moves forward. “Mexican Special Forces, you're coming with us…” the restraints get secured around the man's wrists. You can see the anger in Alejandro's movements when he restrains Hassan, you keep your gun trained on Hassan. “Shadow-1, Bravo 0-7. Jackpot. I say again, jackpot. Target is secure.” Ghost states over the comms, you look over at the Lieutenant. Graves asks a question about the exfil, which Alejandro answers. Soap slaps a hand down on your shoulder, giving you a nod of approval. You nod back, a small smile hidden under your mask. A few moments of conversations between Graves and Ghost gets drowned out by the rumbling of heavy tires on the earth, your own stomach twists into uncomfortable knots as you realise that it's the Mexican Army. “For fucks sakes. Do we ever get a break?” You ask, the question not directed to anyone. “Not this time ‘round Lass” Soap states as he looks out the window towards all the heavy armoured vehicles.

Graves says something about the shadows being able to engage the convoy, the next thing you know is the whisper of a large 25mm round flying through the air. The deep thunderous sound of it hitting the earth shakes the building, the sound of metal crunching and being destroyed rings in your ears as you look around the room. The earth continues to shake when smaller rounds and bigger rounds make contact witht he earth, your blood is bubbling under the service, you need to move. You want to do something and not just sit around and wait for your next order. The next thing you know you're running down the stairs at breakneck speed, Hassan being dragged behind you as you kick open the door to the outside, the exfil vehicle ready for you all. Ghost cuts in front of you as you get out the door, followed by Alejandro then Soap who has Hassan in a death grip. You spin around keeping your gun up and looking for any movement that needs to be dealt with. “Come on! Come on!” Rodolfo calls over the comms, you are happy to see him again. Hassan spits something out that you don’t quite catch as the screeching of tires and the blood rushing through your ears is all you can hear. You do clearly hear Soap growl out a “Shut the fuck up!” When he shoves Hassan into the side of the Vehicle. “Fuuuuuck” you groan as you realise you're the smallest on the team, you immediately open the door and climb over the back seat into the back compartment of the vehicle. Rodolfo and Alejandro speak to each other in Spanish, you only make out a few words as you're trying to get comtoble in the one spot no one is supposed to really sit in these types of vehicles. “We’re good!” Soap calls, “Go!” Ghost growls. “Joker?” Rodolfo asks as he glances up in the rear view mirror, spotting you peeking over the back of the seat between Ghosts’ and Hassan's head. “Happy as Larry!” You joke, you're not comfortable by any means but you know you just want to get the hell out of here already.

—— Time Skip To Interrogation of Hassan ——

You sit on the hood of one of the Vehicles, the headlights cutting through the thick blanket of darkness that covers the desert. The animals of the night linger just beyond the lights. Alejandro and Soap drag Hassan into the middle of the group of vehicles, shoving him to his knees with a bag over his head. “On your knees” Soap growls out as he steps back. You got here before Graves did, you aren’t happy about having to conduct this interrogation with the American present, you hated working with him in the past and right now you still are sour about being near him, especially on a mission that you were hoping to just be yourself and the 141 accompanied by the Los Vaqueros. Graves is kneeling down setting up the laptop which has General Shepherd and Laswell on the other end, your Criss cross applesauce on the hood of the vehicle. “Y’all got a clear picture?” You cringe at the drawl in his words. You hear a “Crystal” and a “All Set” fromt he other two members of the video call. You inch your way forward to have your feet dangling off the edge of the hood as soon as Graves moves away, your feet coming to rest on the bumper. “Alright, we are live, folks” Graves states as he approaches Hassan, the bag no longer on the kneeling man's head.

“Do you sepal Arabic?” Hassan questions, looking up at Graves.

“No one other than you” you mumble, knowing he won't hear you.

“No” Grave relplies.

“Farsi?”

“No.”

“Course not.” Hassan states with a smirk playing on his lips, “Then I’ll speak your bastardised Medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs” You jump off the hood to curse him out in every language that you have learnt, but you get held back by a heavy hand. You look over your shoulder at who has stopped you, Ghost shakes his head lightly knowing that anger that is bubbling in you. You have too much adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Ahh, see… we’re getting off to a bad start here, Hassan” Graves starts as he tucks his thumbs into the top of his tac vest and looks down at the ground, something he always does when he's about to interrogate someone. “You are talking to a Quds Force officer” Hassan states. Graves leans in slightly, “You’re the commander of a foreign terror organisation” “I can say the same to you.” You know Hassan is gonna get under everyone’s skin, but you know damn well that Philip Graves has that skill as well. “What’s your target, “Major”?” You almost snort at the way Hassan’s brows scrunch in displeasure.

“What was your target when they sent missiles to my land?” Hassan questions.

“Oh well, wild guess… To nail your ass” Graves looks down at Hassan.

“So insolent and foul-mouthed. You will learn to respect me when your nation sees fire”

Graves steps closer to Hassan “You are in bed with the cartel, Hassan” he starts “If you disappeared, no one would know where to look for the fuckin’ stain” he growls out through a tight lipped frown.

A small shiver runs down your spin when you hear Hassan let out a small tiny pathetic chuckle of a ‘ha’.

“I have no doubt you’ll take pleasure in torturing me.” Hassan states when he looks back up at Grave from shaking his head lightly, a smile on his face. This time Soap speaks, his voice accent thick compared to the others.

“Who’d you get American missiles from?” You lean your elbows onto your knees, you jerk lightly when you suddenly hear General Shepherd speak. Almost forgetting him and Laswell are on the video call.

“I don’t care who they’re from. I wanna know where they’re going.” You almost want to yell at the older man, for overpowering Soap’s question which was a good question.

Graves was looking at the laptop before stepping away from Hassan, that's when the laughing yaps of coyotes cut through the air. They sound close, not too close but close enough for you to not feel comfortable. Graves walks a few half paces before turning around to look at Hassan. “Take a look around, Hassan” he states before stepping up the man and leaning down to get in his face “Now you can either become part of the food chain or you can start talking.” You watch the conversation from the shadows, just like your Lieutenant. “I’m a hostage here.” Hassan states, “This is illegal.” Alejandro speaks up from behind Hassan. “You’re a prisoner of war.” Hassan turns to look over his shoulder at the Mexican. “Iran is not at war with Mexico. I’ve broken no laws.” He turns to look back at Graves and motions his head to his surroundings “These men and their commanders are the law breakers.” He glances over towards you and Ghost but you can tell he is mainly looking at the laptop, he still makes eye contact with you through the haze of the lights, and with Ghost. You stare the man down, the dark oil paint on your skin making your eyes stand out against the rest of your dark outfit.

Ghost takes a small step forward “You and your beloved General Ghorbrani broke every—-” “DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!” Hassan yells, cutting Soap off. “You executed him and you will pay for your crimes…” he pauses briefly “Only god can help you now-” he yells in his mother tongue. You understood him barely, you wanted to snatch a knife from Ghost’s plate carrier and throw it between the screaming man's eyes. You attention cuts to below you, where General Shepherd's voice comes from the laptop “I want this bastard in permanent custody or looking up at the goddamn grass…” he sneers, Laswell is quick to cut in “General, killing Hassan is an act of war, keeping him is illegal. Right now, he is too hot to hold.” She’s right, you all know this is illegal but you’re still doing it. “Tell me you’re getting something actionable, Laswell.” The general growls, you move to slide off the hood of the vehicle when Laswell states something about working on it.

You stand next to Ghost who has moved over slightly to allow you to jump down. You both watch as Graves brings the laptop onto the hood of the vehicle. Grave's voice lowers as he looks at the laptop. “Actual, let me finish this” you tense up his words, you glance over at Soap and Alejandro then to Ghost who is just staring at Graves with no emotion in his eyes. Yet you can still see the thoughts playing like a movie. You focus back into what Shepherd is saying, only catching the end half of his sentence. “Without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us” you watch as Graves leans away, Soap quickly walking up and leaning into the conversation. “He’s right here. You can’t be serious” his voice is low gravely when he speaks, his accent a strong contrast to the others. Graves moves off the side slightly, Ghost as step forward an inch, his arm coming in front of you when he sees Graves look at you. “I’m afraid I am, son.” Shepherd says. You look down, looking at the phone in Ghost’s hand. “Laswell, did we get anything from his phone?” You bet Ghost to it, he looks at you with a clearly raised brow, you can tell. You give him the same look. “Affirmative. We got a hit.” Laswell states, “Good” the General pauses “Now take him back and let him go”. Ghost moves slightly, making eye contact witht eh eyes and nodding his head.  Alejandro bags and drags Hassan to his feet, Ghost slyly puts Hassan’s phone back in the man's pocket when he walks past. You notice this as you have done it many times, but you were taking the phones and not giving them back. You hear the familiar ‘thunk’ of the laptop closing, you nod to Soap who seems pissed. Not surprised.

#fanfic #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare #soap cod #alejandro cod #rodolfo mw2 #philip graves #captain price #slow burn

[mistydeyes]

I wanna get to know more about cod but idk where to start.

When I was younger I new of cod,but I wasn’t really into it.As I never had a console, (I was a wii kid 😭) my parents wouldn’t allow me to play those types of games.

but now that I’m older I joined the fandom a bit late and I wanna know where to start like what comics? I need to read,what game I should play first or watch a gameplay of etc

hi anon! thank you so much for asking :) it is a little daunting when you first look at it (especially with so many games, there's over 20+). i would recommend playing these/watching the gameplay in this order and i included some of the extra content where it fits with the games. the wiki is also a great source for information. here's a little timeline for you! this is primarily focusing on the cod: modern warfare series.

so what most people want to know is where to start if you're interested in the modern warfare story (with price, gaz. ghost, and simon). call of duty is separated into 4 different arcs: world war ii, modern warfare, black ops, and standalone games. as such it doesn't matter what order you play the overall games but within each category, they are mostly released with extra content in order

the initial games (2007-2011) what started it all for the reboots! the story has all the familiar faces but a different story! this includes soap and price having a stronger dynamic (as oppose to the reboot's Price/Gaz and Soap/Ghost). the timeline of the characters are also different compared to the reboot as you'll see throughout the games (this includes major events and character deaths). we follow Captain Price and his Taskforce 141 as they fight through various enemies and try to save the world. there is also more of an emphasis on joint missions (and playable characters) from the US military and federal agencies. there are also more playable characters (Sgt. Paul Jackson, Sgt. Gary "Roach" Sanderson, PFC Joseph Allen and James Ramirez, Yuri, SSG Derek "Frost" Westbrook, and Sgt. Marcus Burns). overall summaries: suggestive gaming | the leaderboard (timeline) price and soap's story: inkslasher

Soap's Journal from the Hardened Edition of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 - 2011 part of the collector's edition for MW3, this 80+ page book details soap's pov for various events happening prior to the first game and through the last game. this includes military sketches, diagrams, and written entries from soap. soap's journal

Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare - 2007 gameplay: gamingabsolute | gamer's little playground (only cutscenes)

Modern Warfare 2: Ghost - 2009 my post summary | the comic simon's story explained: inkslasher

Modern Warfare 2 - 2009 shameless promo here but this is my favorite game in the whole series! gameplay: mkiceandfire | gamer's little playground (only cutscenes)

Modern Warfare 3 - 2011 gameplay: nrmwalkthroughhd | gamer's little playground (only cutscenes)

the reboot (2019-2023) while sharing the same name/characterization as some of the characters in the initial series (including Price, Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Nikolai, Makarov, and General Shepherd), this story line is different from the initial series. instead of having many separate missions, it primarily follows Cpt. Price's Taskforce 141 and their allies, Laswell + Alex from the CIA, Urzik's rebel leader Farah Karim, Colonel Alejandro Vargas and SGM Rodlfo "Rudy" Parra, Nikolai, and PMC Commander Graves. the dynamics have changed in the game with the games focusing on Price and Gaz (+ Alex, Laswell, and Farah), then Soap and Ghost (+ Los Vaqueros and Graves).

Modern Warfare - 2019 gameplay: tmartn2 | shirrako (only cutscenes) summary: suggestive gaming | gamespot

Warzone - 2019 this six season battle royale style video game includes many of the characters from the main game. there are also various stories at align with the narratives in Modern Warfare, Black Ops, and Vanguard. summary: inkslasher

Modern Warfare II - 2022 gameplay: gamer's little playground | adguideshd (only cutscenes) summary: mrroflwaffles

Modern Warfare III - 2023 to be released in november

#task force 141 #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #modern warfare #izzie answers #madebyizzie #izzie is writing #izzie summarizes #gameplay #video games #modern warfare iii #call of duty mw3 #cod warzone