#call of duty oc
I dunno if you post ir somewhere, but I'm lazy to look for it. But how did Jade got her neck scar? 🧐
Btw, I love your sparring session where Ghost got his a$$ kicked 😏
Hello! (。・∀・)ノ゙
Actually, I haven't told anybody about Jade's scar on her neck 👀. Even though it is a major spoiler for my Cold Heart fic (which has been on hold for a millennium now I'm sorry), I can tell you two things about it :
it's one of the first scars she's ever had, and
she did not get it during a mission 👀
And oop-- yes but it won't be an easy fight for either of them (ʘ ͜ʖ ʘ)
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Thank you for asking!
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vithoma · 2 days
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January 2023
Laswell: *through text* You have an interview tomorrow at Stirling Lines with Captain John Price of the Task Force 141. Good luck
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cannedmuffins · 6 months
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Daddy Simon 💕
Daddy Ghost 👻
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oleworldblues · 3 months
Hi I was hoping to request idk like a headcannon for ghost and reader in like a situationship and like maybe after a successful mission 141 is celebrating w los vaqueros and they're dancing (I can't dance for shit) so maybe Alejandro being the cheeky bastard he is offers to teach/dance with reader and maybe how ghost would react to that
I’ve asked a few people this already and I love their responses, I hope it’s okay I’m asking you too I love your writing🫶
Technically you made this request when my requests were closed.  But, I have a trade offer: I’ll write this, but it will be with my Cod OC: Dice. I did not use her name or describe her apperance, so it can still be read as a Reader in 3rd person. There is a several-month period between "Out from the Shadows" and "Somebody's Problem." where she and Ghost are in a situationship. I would have written a similar dynamic with a reader insert anyway. The lyrics are from "Caraluna" by Bacilos
In Their Sights
Simon "Ghost" Riley X afab F!Character
Rating: 18+/Explicit Words: 3.5k Tags: Alcohol, oral sex m!receiving, "both parties are tipsy" sex, unsafe sex, PIV sex, slight breeding kink, inappropriate use of a mask, gagging.
Blues’ Masterlist | COD x Reader Masterlist |  Ghost x Dice Masterlist
“You sure I’m allowed back in Las Almas?” Asks Dice for the hundredth time. If the answer changed, it was already too late. She was on the plane and there was no going back.
Price grunts, “you think we’re dragging your ass back to Mexico to get you bloody killed?”
“Of course we wouldn’t, mate,” says Gaz.
“There’s easier ways to get rid of ya, hen,” adds Soap.
Ghost just sits in silence and tunes out his team. He’s the smart one that attempts to get used to the time change during the flight. She��s grateful he sticks to the shadows, because otherwise it would be difficult to keep her eyes off him.
It’s been a few months since they became a coupl—whatever they are. A strange few months of physical comfort and mental gymnastics.
Colonel Alejandro requested their help after Valeria escaped from prison. She seems to have a new station of operations in a new area Los Vaqueros didn’t have under control. Most of Alejandro’s men are busy tearing down other locations.
He needs more hands on deck. So he called the best people he could think of, aside from his own, of course. 
So now the 141 is en route to Las Almas.
Just in case, Dice walked out of the plane with her hands up. She’s half-kidding and half-serious. Moods were high when they all took down Graves, but now feelings have had time to settle and resurface. 
Then there’s that feeling, again. This paralyzing dread whenever she has to be around someone that knew her. The “old” her; the person she’s desperately trying not to be. It makes her constantly ask herself if she’s changed. She wants to shake someone relentlessly and demand they tell her she’s a better person. 
As if that would actually make it true.
Thankfully, the mission was stressful enough to keep her mind occupied. El Sin Nombre—Valeria was on the run. With her small team they were harder to catch, but less equipped. Eventually their adversary would run out of steam.
They cornered her at a new, barely established, warehouse.
That meant Valeria didn’t hesitate to burn it to the ground. 
“Valeria!” Alejandro shouted after her. Behind him the warehouse was going up in flames. Even from Dice’s point of view she could see the anguish on his face. His men are shouting behind him and trying to get control of the chaos.
He has to let her go. He knows this and it’s eating him up inside.
Despite Sin Nombre escaping, there is cause for celebration. Another head was chopped off the many snakes of the Las Almas cartel. Valeria was still on the run with even less resources. Eventually the crease in Alejandro’s brow fades.
Music plays and drinks are shared. Rudy advised that something should be done to keep morale up. Soon enough, there is a crowd around the 141. People asking questions or curious about this ragtag group of soldiers. Her hesitation around Alejandro and his men faded quickly. The hatchet was buried months ago under the rubble of Grave’s decimated tank. Most of Alejandro’s men didn’t recognize her at all.
Barely two drinks in and Dice begins to tap her foot to the rhythm. She’s relieved that, for once, her reputation doesn’t precede her.
“Someone wants to dance, eh?” Asks Rudy. Dice holds up her hands.
“Oh no, no, no,” she declares. “I don’t really dance.”
“Ach!” Interjects Soap. “You danced with me before.”
Dice scoffs, “I taught you line dancing and we swayed. That’s middle school shit.” She takes another drink. “I can’t dance, dance. Not to music like this.”
“All the reason to learn,” says Alejandro behind her, before pulling her up by her shirt. He laughs almost menacingly. This might be how he had planned his revenge. She’s pushed forward, over to Rudy, but holds her finger up before he takes her hand. She quickly chugs the remainder of her bottle before tossing it to Soap.
“Ok,” instructs Rudy. “You’ve got some rhythm to start. Let's see if you can get the steps.”
Dice stares at their feet as she attempts to follow Rudy’s lead. Ghost watches her from a corner of the room, next to Price. The two of them nurse a beer or two and enjoy the show. 
Soon it becomes a game, if she fumbles a step or trips on Rudy’s feet she has to take a drink. Ghost is putting on his best poker face as he watches Dice fumble in time with the music.
It’s hard not to think about the first time, when they met in Las Almas. Ghost thought she was flirting with Soap for most of the day, and then she showed up looking for him.
She looks happier, he realizes. Some days she seems like a different person.
But have things really changed? At the end of the day, she’s dancing care-free around other soldiers poking fun and sleeping with her superior. Meeting in Las Almas feels like a lifetime ago, but also like it happened yesterday. It’s times like these when doubt sets in for Ghost. 
What are they even doing? It’s sex, but it’s not just sex.
Price mumbles, “Might have to make Soap the sniper for a while.”
“What’s this about, captain?” Asks Ghost. 
“Maybe having you on overwatch every mission is a mistake.” Price isn’t even looking at Ghost. He’s looking out onto the dance floor.
“If you’ve got a problem with—”
“Just saying, mate,” he interrupts, “Maybe you’re getting complacent. Waiting a bit too long when your target is in your sights” The old man stretches his back and ignores the look on Ghost’s face. If he really had a problem with his work in the field this is not an appropriate time to bring it up.
Soon Ghost is left alone in that corner. Left alone to watch her laugh and dance with Soap and Gaz. Those two join in on the drinking game too when a few women and daring men offer more dance lessons.
Dice is still the most popular pupil. A few beers later, she’s getting the hang of it. The drinks flow and laughter threatens to drown out the music playing on the wireless speaker. The moves get more bold the more beer she consumes.
The more beer in her system, the more she stares at him. Her partner’s hands wander a bit more with each song, but she keeps looking at him.
La vida se me esconde Detrás de una promesa sin cumplir De donde nace alguna inspiración, de donde nace otra canción Y ya no sé bien quién se esconde Yo ya no sé lo que se esconde
He understands most of the lyrics. He ignores them. He chalks up the atmosphere up to Spanish being a romantic language. He thinks nothing of it when Alejandro cuts in to take her hand.
Y yo sé que tal vez Tú nunca escuches mi canción, yo sé Y yo sé que tal vez Te siga usando a ti robándote mi inspiración
She rests her chin on Alejandro’s shoulder and bats her eyes at Ghost. He thinks she’s being too obvious, and might give the game away. But, Soap and Gaz joke around just as much. Maybe he’s being paranoid.
She has a habit of making him think too much. About everything.
Mientras siga viendo tu cara en la cara de la luna Mientras siga escuchando tu voz Entre las olas, entre la espuma Mientras tenga que cambiar la radio de estación Porque cada canción me hable de ti, de ti, de ti
“So,” Alejandro says, “You and Ghost, eh?” She bats her eyelashes to act aloof.
“I have no idea what you are talking about.” She tries to look away,
“I don't know," he mumbles, "things seem different.”
“Well,” she replies, “I’m not working for a dickbag anymore. Things got much better quickly.”
Alejandro hums in disbelief. He is pestering her like he’s got money riding on it.
Near the end of the night, she’s stumbling around with bright red cheeks. She also cannot stop staring at him with a smile on her face. Practically walking around with a 'I'm sleeping with my L.t." sign. Or, she is challenging him to stop her. Either way, he stands up and crosses the room to her.
“Alright there,” he grunts before he slings her arm over his shoulder and leads her out of the room and down the hallway. Once the door is closed and they are out of earshot she stands up straight.
“Ah,” muses Ghost, “there she is.”
“Who?” She asks, looking a bit more sober. Still tipsy, but not nearly as far gone as she was acting.
“Trouble,” he answers. Simon tries not to smile.
“Were you jealous?” She asks, her voice getting higher and a bit cocky. “How did it feel watching everyone line up to dance with the gringa?” 
“You needed all the dancing lessons you could get,” he answers. Avoiding her trap to make him sound jealous.
“If that’s how you feel,” she says with a pout. “I’ll go get more.” Before she can turn to step away, he reaches out and grabs her hand.
“We both know you aren’t going to do that,” he states flatly. 
“Are you a betting man?” She asks. “That Hernandez fellow was awfully light on his feet. I could—”
Before she can take another step, he pulls her back to his chest.
“We both know you aren’t going to do that,” he repeats. His voice is lower, almost threatening. A wicked smile spreads across her face. Then she steps closer and lifts up the bottom of the mask.
“I won’t be able to keep quiet,” she whispers against his neck. He shudders when her breath dances across his skin. He should have known better than to try something, here of all places. This is too risky and they are already pushing their luck.
But, that fades with every whimper that accompanies the grinding of her hips.
“I have an idea,” Simon assures. “We just have to find someplace.”
“Not the closet again?” She giggles. That brings back memories for both of them. The first time she propositioned him and he decided to give into temptation. Here he is again.
Simon finds it's hard to regret this. 
He leads her down an empty hallway away from the noise. She does her best impression of a sober person as she follows. It's moderately convincing. He remembers the way towards a storage room he used months ago.
But, what he's really looking for is the room inside the room. Behind shelves of equipment there is a door to a small room for things like armor plates and other smaller equipment. Now they have two sets of doors between them and a compound full of soldiers. Everyone is celebrating, there shouldn't be anyone needing a few frag grenades. 
The walls are lined with small arms and a variety of tactical and lethal grenades. In the center stands a sturdy table. He tries to lead her over to it, but she has other plans. 
She pushes him against the door with a thud. 
She kneels in front of him, looking up with wide eyes as her hands fumble to pull down his pants. She's concentrating so much as she works her way through his belt, pants, and finally pulling down his underwear down to his knees.
The excitement, the foreplay, and her enthusiasm have him half erect already. One swipe of her tongue up the entire length makes his cock twitch. He thinks she's going to continue, but it seems she has other plans. Instead she goes a bit lower.
“These fuckin’ thighs,” She mumbles against his legs. It’s his only warning before her teeth start to nip at the strong muscles. Simon hisses through gritted teeth. She’s never acted quite like this, and she's already a very bold woman.
She licks and sucks at the meat of his thighs. He's left marks on her thighs, but he's never had it back. She looks so full of reverence at his feet.
"Look great on your knees, pet," he remarks. She replies with another bite on his thigh. Before he can reprimand her, his cock is halfway down her throat.
"Easy now," he mumbles with a gentle tug of her hair. "That's it."  She looks up at him as her cheeks hollow out, her hazy mind focused on one thing and one thing only. For half of the night she looked at him like she was a predator. That look is still in her eyes. He’s not sure if it’s more or less threatening with his dick in her mouth.
“Were you thinking about this all night?” He asks. She hums around his cock and nods her head slightly. “Center of attention and this is all you think about?”
She moans around his cock. He shouldn't enjoy knowing that this much, the idea that he is always on her mind. That’s only fair, right? He can’t stop thinking about her. Why should she be free? Why should she go a minute without thinking about him fucking her? 
Maybe he shouldn’t have had a few glasses of liquor.
Her mouth sucks and tongue licks with ease. She’s well-practiced at this point. Running her tongue up the underside of the head. Even gently squeezing his balls with her hand. So eager to please, even when she’s tipsy.
Ghost pulls back, but her tongue is still hanging out. He can’t resist slapping his cock against it. A surprised noise escapes her followed by a giggle. Tipsy and delighted all while sounding so satisfied with herself.
“Sit on the fucking table,” he orders. She stands up, laughing, and kisses him on the cheek.
“Yes sir,” she replies. She sits on the edge of the table in the center of the supply room. Simon kneels down to unlace one of her boots. She kicks it off to the side and holds up her foot like she’s expecting him to kiss it. He stands up, scoffing at her smug attitude.
“Help me out here,” he orders as he starts to take off her pants. She lifts her hips off the table when he pulls her pants down, along with her underwear. Her pants hang off her leg with the combat boot still on and dangle onto the floor. Simon settles between her legs. He teases his cock against her cunt.
“Take it off,” she whispers with a sigh. “Please.” Her fingers dip under the hem of the mask. She leans forward and brushes her lips against the fabric. Part of him knows he shouldn’t, this is risky enough as it is.
Well, if it’s already that dangerous.
He pulls off the mask and places it on the table, beside her. She pulls him in for a kiss. It’s needy and a bit frantic. Against his lips, she squeals a bit when he pushes his cock forward. Then she sighs against him.
“You get this wet from sucking my cock?” He groans.  She is soaked.
“Not just that,” she confesses.
“Oh?” he chuckles. He starts to thrust slowly in and out. Her fingers dig into his shoulders and grab his t-shirt. 
“The alcohol helped,” she mumbles. “The way you looked at me helped more.” That shouldn’t excite him the way that it does, a drunken confession of how much he affects her.
“How did I look at you?” He asks, hiding his desperation for the answer.
“You looked jealous,” she admits. “Thought you were going to sock Alejandro in the jaw.” He thrusts forward, hard. She whines into his shoulder.
He doesn’t know what to say, so he just fucks her harder. Her body is relaxed, eager and greedy. The more he growls and grunts the less words he has to say.
When she opens her mouth to tease him, he just fucks her harder. When he picks up the pace one of her hands grabs his hair and tugs. Tugs enough to send a spark up his spine. 
“Fuck!” He warns. “Close!”
You gonna cum in me?” She moans.
“Don’t you fuckin’ say that,” he orders. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she holds onto his tighter. Broken, messy pleas to fill her are slurred when she tries to speak. His instincts are screaming to fulfill her request. Fill her, claim her, and watch his cum spill out onto her thighs when he pulls out.
“You pervert!” She teases, “You’re picturing it aren’t you?” “Shut the fuck up,” he orders. His fingers dig into her hips so he can keep his wits.
“I’m so close,” she moans. “Wanna knock me up?”
“Fuckin’ hell,” he barks.
Simon grabs his spare mask, the knit balaclava, from the table and forces it into her mouth. If she won’t shut up, he will make her.
“I told you to bloody shut up!” He warns. She doesn’t hear a word of it, her eyes are rolled up to the back of her head and he can feel that she’s close. Because she’s gagged, she doesn’t hold back. 
Fuck, he can still hear her begging him to cum inside her. He won’t. He can’t. Not while she’s drunk. Not when they haven’t discussed it.
But, bloody hell, he really wants to.
She cries out, eyes staring directly into Simon’s, even gagged she’s challenging him. But, soon it's overwhelming. When she shuts her eyes tight, he knows she’s cumming. Her body tenses and she gets so much tighter. She attempts to crack an eye open and look at him. Her pupils are blown wide open and she looks enraptured. A look of pure adoration.
He’s not sure how he feels about it, but it’s sweeping him up at the moment. She’s crashing down hard against him. Hips bucking against his to ride out her own orgasm and help him chase his. She’s nodding rapidly, practically ordering him to cum. If she wasn't gagged she would still be teasing him to cum inside her.
At the last moment, he pulls out. Without a free hand, he can’t aim it anywhere. His cum spurts between their bodies. Most of it landed on her stomach and on her shirt.
Serves her right.
“Too close,” he tells himself. “Too bloody close.” She doesn’t hear it. She’s blissed out with her head thrown back. He pulls the mask out of her mouth and expects some smug retort, a jab at his expense, or something to tease out his jealousy.
Instead, she kisses him. Nothing frenzied or hurried like they often do. It’s something slow, to accentuate coming down from the high. The taste of booze is long gone on both of their lips. 
This is too much. Too needy, too passionate, too much everything. She shouldn’t be doing this. He should stop this. But he doesn’t. In the morning, he can always blame this on cheap booze and Mexican beer.
“Hungover, Dice?” Ghost asks. He sounds very amused with himself as she sits on a storage container by the tarmac. The plane back to base is getting gassed up and packed for the trip back. Leaving them sitting in the full glory of the Mexican sun.
“Not at all, L.t.” She lies. She pulls down her sunglasses to get a good look at him. There are bags under her eyes and she looks exhausted. Her face has a layer of sheen from sweat.
“Looking a bit warm there, mate,” he jokes. She’s wearing a sweatshirt over her fatigues in the Las Almas heat. She has no idea how Ghost tolerates wearing so much clothing and that goddamn mask in weather like this.
She lowers her voice, “Maybe if somebody didn’t make a mess on my shirt I wouldn’t have to cover it.” “You should hold your liquor better. That would prevent spills.” Then he leans down to whisper right into her ear. “You didn't give me many options, love. I had to think fast.”
She raises her eyebrow and he can see her cheeks flush a bit more. He wonders if she remembers just how passionately she was begging him to cum inside her.
“Think of it as pay back,” he says before speaking in a whisper. “Do you know how bloody hard it was to get dressed without Soap and Gaz seeing those little marks you gave me?”
She feigns innocence with a shrug and a smug grin. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
As the snarky whispering continues the two move closer and closer. Their voices get quiet as the remarks get more salacious. The two normally observant soldiers get a bit too distracted to notice Alejandro watching them from a distance.
“Oi, Rudy!” He says elbowing the man. “Gano la apuesta. You need to pay up, hermano.” It takes Rodolfo a moment to realize what Alejandro means, then he waves him off.
“They are just talking. No significa nada,” he replies.
“Pensé que eras un hombre de honor,” Alejandro scoffs. He is offended that his second in command would renege on a bet.
Blues’ Masterlist | COD x Reader Masterlist |  Ghost x Dice Masterlist
Taglist: @hearts4sky, @libbyrequiresescapism @me-a-weirdo @katzykat @ayesha-fish l@okisdoll @darlingangel-17 @lunagrantspectorlockley @frenchonionghost @https–pansy @midnightpiers @createillusions @useless-creature-213 @pssytrux @kee-0-kee @lovely098 @wasteland-babe @thriving-n-jiving @holt-from-the-blue @kitty-satan1 @gomzwrites
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raffe156 · 7 months
So here’s one of the many things I wanted to share with you guys! I’ve commissioned the lovely @hffhifjou to do some art work for me based around our girl Tank and the series - The first one is based off an anon ask I got around Price an Tank having kids an this is bang on 😍
Honestly I love it, their art work is amazing an can’t wait to see the rest! Please go check their blog out! Their 141 Knights and rugby AU are amazing!
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mctvsh · 29 days
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Today I found Amanda Seyfried's faceshapes for Daz3D and remembered that she is the faceclaim of Jade - @sleepyconfusedpotato character! And the idea of ​​render appeared by itself!
I just wanted to do a simple render with Jade ( •̀ ω •́ )✧
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ghostingaces · 7 months
We Need To Talk About Glass | 141 x Reader/Oc
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Synopsis; There’s something not right about the rookie
Warnings; vague horror themes and foul language
Notes; Glass is technically an oc but I don’t mention a name or physical description in this, even though she has one, is because this is kind of like a screen test for her. The only description so far is she's tall, Irish, and has plale eyes. This au is also inspired by this and this which I absolutely adore. This is my first piece of writing on this site so I hope you enjoy.
Its also only Price and Ghost for now. It’s a bit rough. Part Two here.
▄︻̷̿┻̿═━ 一
Most of the file before him was blacked out.
Rows upon rows of dark lines stared back at him as he flickered through the manilla folder, crime scene like photos of bloodshed tacked to pages after pages of mission reports. Occasionally the repetitive drivel would be interrupted by a disciplinary report, but those were drowned out with commendations.
“No picture?” Prime hummed as he flipped back to the first page.
“No Sir” The Irish Ranger in front of him answers. He's a tall man, bald with keen green eyes, and the rookies former CO. Lieutenant Byrne. A respectable and very capable man. A man who’s knuckles had been bone white on the file when he handed it over, green gaze refusing to flicker over the pictures he had probably seen dozens of times already. He had probably lived through several.
Price cast his gaze back down to the first page of the rookies file. Her name was simple and easy to remember, but distinct enough to suit her stature. He read it twice again just to make sure that it stuck though.
 He rubbed his eyes as an uncomfortable itch overtook them.
“Infiltration, demolitions, interrogation, guerrilla warfare..., Jack of all trades aren't you...” He read over the callsign inscribed on the page “Glass”
The figure in the corner nodded. A scratchy voice echoed from behind the balaclava “Yes sir”
He had barley noticed the woman when she had walked into the briefing room behind Lieutenant Byrne. Draped in all black and of a similar stature to the man, she had seemed more of a shadow then person. By the time Price had realised she wasn't just an apparition, she had retreated into the dark like she belonged there. 
“Before you're cleared for active duty you'll run some sims with the team” He explained. He settled his gaze on where he thought her eyes would be but could only see the shimmer of something staring back at him.
“Yes Sir”
“Even after that you won't be let out on the field for a while, not until you sim scores are perfect. Any objections?”
“No Sir”
“I expect perfection for my team, no room for mistakes.” Price stood from his desk and circled it slowly so he could sit closer to Glass (what was her name again?) and stare into the depths of the shadows that covered her “Understood”
There was what he perceived as a nod “Yes Sir”
“Good.” He grunted before reaching out to the other ranger for a grateful handshake “Lieutenant Byrne, thank you for the introduction but I can take it from here”
“Of course Sir” The irishman smiled aloofly has he shook the captains hand, grip firm, before stepping back closer to the woman “I’ll be out of you hair by the morning.”
Captain Price nodded with an amicable smile and watched as Byrne stepped closer to the woman who had moved to face him. They spoke in hushed voices, a flush of cold sweat gathering across the mans bald head, and what sounds like him snapping out a small ‘behave’ bounced around the room before he moved briskly to the door.  It open with a scream of rusted hinges.
“Good luck Sir” Lieutenant Byrne smile tightly and shut the door behind him.
Good luck?
Price watched him go, head turned towards the door, before looking back to Glass.
She was closer than before.
A lot closer.
He could make out the structure of sharp bones under the black balaclava, high cheeks and an almost roman nose, as well as tired pale eyes that seemed to look perpetually glassy. He looked away when the itch returned. John huffed, callused hands rubbing his eyes softly, and watched in his peripheral is Glass continued to stare.
When the ache subsided, he offered a hand to shake “Welcome to the 141″
The corners of her eye crinkled every so slightly and he caught what looked like a smile in her dead eyes “Happy to be here Sir”
He could feel the ice of her skin through her gloves when they shook hands. Something distinctly wrong settled in his chest as he stared into her almost fake looking eyes. (Iris too glass like, pupils to much like a void)
What was her name again?
▄︻̷̿┻̿═━ 一
There was something wrong with Glass.
Something almost artificial, something uneven in the way she walked. Something doll like in the way she turned her head.
Ghost, the paranoid man that he was, noticed it first.
Noticed the lights that flickered when she walked into the room, a figure that wasn't her appearing in the shadow, before the bulbs would return to their usual florescent glow. The woman didn't seem to notice (or she didn't care) and was content to to carry on with her day. Ghosts eyes would follow her though, catching her gaze in the mirror she walked past. (He knew for a fact all the mirrors in her room were covered)
Her reflection would linger a moment while her body walked on.
Every instance of wrongness was so quick.
Too quick, like she was teasing him. 
Daring him to say something.
He never told anyone he saw it happen
She made attempts to be normal. Well versed on most topics, she held up conversation easily (if you could ignore you own voice echoing back at you occasionally) but her gaze seemed to pierce through you. Glassy. Fake. Eyes more lifeless than the taxidermy deer head his father hung above the mantle.
He’d watch her for the rest of the day. 
He'd watch as she stalked from room to room, lingering in the back, ghoulishly pale eyes fixated on the people that milled about, as if waiting on one to walk off alone so she could follow. Stalking like a predator, like something hungry. 
People had been going MIA recently 
He’d never seen her eat, never drink, never seen a sliver of skin that wasn't the greasepaint covered flesh around her eyes. Hands constantly bound in leather gloves, tall body locked away in layers of black fabric and body armour. However, in spite of the heavy boots she wore, her steps were basically soundless. She moved like smoke.
“Keep sneaking up on me and I might shoot you” He had snapped one day, tone playful but a genuine threat thinly veiled in his words. He wasn't comfortable with her at his back, not with the knife always on her belt.
Glass has simply laughed, the sound as grating as nails on a chalk board, before she slinked off to to bother Soap or linger in Prices shadow, knife hilt glittering like polished gold.
A Celtic cross was carved into the handle.
A similar gold one hung from a thin chain around her neck, weathered with age and handling, but meticulously cared for.
Soap had asked is she believed in God when he first saw it dangling around her throat, polished gold blindingly vibrant against the blood and black of her tac vest. The chain was short which made the sigil sit right on her breastbone, right above rows of magazines waiting to be used.
Glass had chuckled hoarsely, like she thought having faith in something was more of a desperate joke more than anything else, before spinning a painful vague story about a grandmother and family heirlooms.
Ghost new many people in the service who believed in one god or another, he knew how important it was in a job like this to have something to hold onto to ground yourself when the bullets started flying and bodies dropped around you. Knew it was better to have anything than to let horror of the job eat you alive.
But Glass?
He knew no god could help that creature.
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doggoboigaugau · 4 months
🐶Chase's Intro Sheet🐶
Newly transferred to 141:
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Name: Chase
Call sign: also Chase 
Age: 21
Species: Hybrid between human and wolf
Place of birth: Born in a laboratory (which is also why he has no proper name) – He is the only successful specimen of a whole series of experiments on human children that aims to produce soldiers with animals’ natural abilities.
Height: 1m75 a.k.a 5’74”
Military rank: Private (when first transferred to the 141) – Corporal (now)
Abilities: He can do anything that a healthy adult wolf can do (night vision, enhanced senses,...) 
Supernatural abilities: 
+ Healing factor. He has accelerated healing abilities and can heal himself mid battles, but when the injuries are too severe (e.g. wounds from being in close proximity to explosions, too much blood loss,...) he’ll turn into a small puppy. This much smaller form helps to perverse energy to focus entirely on healing (which also means he’s eepy 24/7 until he can get into a reasonably out-of-danger state).
+ Shapeshift. Into a small puppy or a giant wolf at his own will.
Issues: Inferiority complex, Dissociation, Substance abuse (idk if this is the right term but he resorts to smoking whenever he feels overwhelmed with his emotions, which is very very often), Avoidant personality disorder.
Skill set:
Speed: 10/10
Strength: 10/10
Fighting: 10/10
Intelligence: varies from 0.1 to 10/10 (he’s very dumb sometimes)
Endurance: varies from 7.5 to 100/10 (he cannot train for more than 1 hour with Ghost but when people he loves are in danger boy can go through hell and all)
Courage: 10/10
Social: varies from 5 to 8.5/10 (don’t expect him to come out of his room during an existential crisis)
Team Work: 100/10 (good boy loves to impress people)
Bonus :3 (probably because he didn't pay attention during training, well you know, a puppy's attention span is very short--)
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asteroiidx · 3 months
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Im so coocoo for this man
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alexxmason · 23 days
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I like to keep my God close, but the Devil closer
Commissioned @felrija for a sketch for Selena x Russ 🥹❤️ they look so sweet and soft and like total professionals!! Alek’s always such a joy and talent to work with!
alt version under the cut 💕
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Hi, I'm Avril, I saw your content and it's fucking beautiful and I love your Your character Jade. And here is a gift for you it is made by me I hope you like the jade drawing ^^
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I LOVE this so much! Thank you for this lovely gift! Oh how I miss drawing on my last pages of notebook 😔 last time I did that it was years ago back in high school (⁠>⁠0⁠<⁠;⁠)
Anyway, such a beautiful style and you draw her so well! Thank you again (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠`⁠)⁠。⁠*゚⁠+
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zirahpastel · 2 months
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something i did to rest on doing comms lol
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It's the little things (7)
Previous / Next
After nine years of knowing him, Christine Vega had about lost hope about ever learning how to not give in to John MacTavish's puppy eyes.
So when he had started whining about how long had it been since she had last cooked fried chicken (it was last month), she just... got to work. She couldn't help it.
And there she was, in the small kitchenette that Price had made install in their private common room, up to her elbows in flour and spices, coating chicken in it, then in eggs, then in panko crumbs, then dropping it in oil, checking over it with the wood tongs...
It was a tedious and messy process for just one person, but both Soap and Gaz had been roped into taking the privates to the assault course. So they'd be hungry when they got back. And that day Price had mentioned mournfully that Dr. Heather was having lunch with a friend. So she had to make sure it was enough food for five people, four of which ate like they were always famished.
But she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel joy seeing them devour the food she cooked. It made her feel useful to know that she was good at something.
Now, if only she had been good at tying her damn hair properly, that would have been awesome.
For the last ten minutes the shorter strands of her hair had escaped from her loose bun, and brushed over and over again her face, tickling her nose when she leaned in. And her hands were sticky with the mixture of flour and egg and bread crumbs, so she couldn't just... brush it back. So she did as she could using her forearms, to no avail. She even blew softly to get the loose strands out of her face.
''What are you doing?'' Simon's deep, gravelly voice sounded right behind her, and Christine let out an undignified squeak, almost dropping a piece of chicken and turning her head.
He was standing there, hands inside the pocket of his hoodie as usual, looming over her and watching curiously the messy display on the counters.
''One day, Simon, I swear I'll scare you to death just like you do when you sneak up on me'' Christine mumbled, facing again her task, but she couldn't help but smile. And then frown when with the movement her bun definitely came undone. ''Well, shit''
''Problems, lovie?'' His low rumbled laugh made her heart flutter as always, and the left corner of her lips hurt when her smile widened without control.
''Bad hair day, I guess. I can't seem to keep it up, and my hands are filthy and I can't...'' She froze when he felt hands... his hands, gently brushing her hair back and bunching it up until he could hold it with just one of his enormous hands.
God, he even had taken off his gloves.
''Does this help?'' His voice sounded lower than before, and a tad more uncertain, and she resisted the urge to nod like an idiot, trying with all her might not to tremble.
''Yes...'' Christine murmured, exhaling the breath she had been holding, and continued working while he stood there beside her, holding her hair with one hand and the other still inside his pocket.
Simon wasn't even sure why he had done that. And even less why he had taken his gloves off before touching her hair, but he had remembered Belarus. When she asked permission to touch the skull plate on his mask, and when he agreed, she had taken her glove off to touch it with her bare fingertips.
As if it would have been disrespectful, unholy, to touch him with anything less that her exposed skin.
Maybe that was why he had shed his gloves before touching her hair, and now, was still trying to decide if it had been a good or a bad idea. Feeling her hair between his fingers, the back of her head almost resting on his palm, made him feel things. Things that made him clench his jaw beneath the balaclava, his eyes focused on the nape of her neck.
Soft, pale and delicate skin where he could maybe...
Her low humming distracted him from his less than chaste thoughts, and he couldn't help but look at her fondly. Busy as a bee, completely dedicated to feed them like a mother hen, fiercely taking care of her newfound place.
Without thinking, his fingers tightened his hold on her hair, craddling her head in his palm, and he saw her shoulders relaxing, her humming becoming sweeter and softer, almost a purr.
Wait, he knew that tune.
''What are you humming?''
''Ah... Think, by Kaleida, it... it's in the first John Wick film'' Christine barely turned her head to look at him, not bothered in the slightest by how tight he was holding her hair now. If she had to be honest... she liked it too much.
Simon pretended to be deep in thought, and then shook his head.
''Don't remember it'' He was lying. That was the song that he heard in the video that Soap sent him during his last solo deployment.
She fell for it. Or maybe pretended to fall for it. But she turned her head back to her task preparing food and started to hum softly again, until she ended singing just as softly, warming his heart.
Think of me, I'll never break your heart Think of me, you're always in the dark I am your light, your light, your light Think of me, you're never in the dark
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cannedmuffins · 4 months
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She just wanted to be sexy and cool but she’s also old and her shoulder is shot (pun intended) from sniping.
Bonus under the cut
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He ended up being the one taking care of her (again).
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libbyrequiresescapism · 5 months
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For the one and only @sleepyconfusedpotato
Got procreate a week ago, thought to experiment with colour on my favourite cod couple :))).
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