#plague!cod au

[justadeadreaper]

❇COD Plague! AU

The downfall of humanity... plagues. For how long has the world suffered at the hands of the submicroscopic agents of death and cancer? Mutating the body to overwhelm every cell to produce another corpse to be thrown to a pit filled with a mound of bodies all suffering the same macabre fate as they rot amidst the earth. All for their Mistress who urges them on to continue their ravaging across all of humanity, just following her mantra and her undying will.

Consume... Consume the body, consume the cells. Eat your way through its walls, eat your way through each and everyone one until there is none left that have not felt our hunger.

Conquer... Infect. Infect the host. Override their engines, twist and turn and manipulate their nature, subjugate them to my every whim and thought until my reign overwhelms them all.

Multiply... Force them to make more of us. Make more of us. Split and squirm and overwhelm the cell. Millions upon billions upon trillions until it bursts. Then repeat until we have multiplied to the point that there is no more of the host but only us.

Destroy... Destroy anything that is left over. Use what you have to pick away at the body even if it is bit by bit. Destroy its will, make it weak, make it desperate. Take and destroy until they are withering away into the wind. Destroy all their will until they have nothing left to live for but only wish for the sweet relief of death 

Kill... 

Kill. Them. All.

With the will that she commanded her agents spread and spread until it destroyed all it could. Humans huddled in fear at what she did, praying to whatever God they had to save them from the same fate as the mounting bodies that mounted outside their villages in the burning heaps to try and save others from the very same fate that tried to take them all. But, apart from fear, how did humans react in other ways?

A common way was to make a figure of this plague. No one could tell you the why as no one knew. Every person had a different reason for giving these diseases physical figures for all to see so no one reason could be accepted. Some say it was to humanise the disease, to put it on the level of humans so that it would not be as feared as it was. Others said it was to comprehend the disease as no natural thing could be behind the disease and they could not believe that their Gods would do such a thing to them so they had to create a figure, a representation to do so. Then again the physical forms could have just been made for forms of entertainment such as poetry and paintings where it could be appreciated and show the true tragedy that would otherwise not be known. Although shock was another reason proposed by others as it would show as to why you should fear such a thing as most had features that would occur in humans if they ever did catch it, to show how powerful it was, how it could change you beyond an unimaginable degree.

They just did not realise that by making his physical representations that if enough people believed in them that they would become real. And that is where our dear COD characters come in as now they are not stuck as mere mortals in the military to kill people but they are the diseases. Across different time periods and different countries with different amounts of victims to their cruel goal, they are twisted forms of themselves as now they represent the diseases and everyone’s fears.

Like my last AU, this is an AU that anyone can use but this is just the foundation and base and the basic rules to it so people can build from it and have a starting point to expand from. All I ask is to use the tag I made for the AU, for you to credit me for the AU, and credit me for using my version of the character, apart from that go wild and have fun with this AU, if you have any questions please ask as no question is a dumb question.

[cod-dump]

Teen!Rudy visiting teen!Ghost: How many swords do you have?

Teen!Ghost: Sword of a lot

Teen!Rudy, immediately turning to leave the room: Blocked

Teen!Ghost, jumping in front of him: Parried!

Teen!Rudy: *stares intensely with his eye twitching*

Teen!Ghost: Uh-

(Downstairs)

Teen!Gaz: Ale, do you think it was a good idea to leave Rudy and Si alone?

Teen!Alejandro, focused on his switch: Rudy can defend himself

Teen!Gaz, hearing a yelp: Yea, that’s what I’m concerned about

[sassman7]

Mechanic AU cause there’s just something about it

[codfather]

With the cod shrine Grian made, my brain immediately made an au of priest Grian, God Jimmy (based off E1 Jimmy where he's the Codfather), and adventurer Scar who Grian is debating sacrificing for a mending book

Also just fun interactions of Jimmy being a wildly feared god, sending waves of plague random, but Grian just being like "Hey. Fuck you."

The mending book is maybe some form of a sign from the Codfather in [insert fantasy town name here], where you pick a rare item and then if the Codfather has chosen you you'll find the item. Jimmy decided to fuck with Grian by giving him basically every other rare item aside from the one he wanted

Scar comes in after he wanders in, sees everyone fishing and asks to join in. They oblige, because they're not an asshole fantasy town. Jimmy wasn't paying attention, and meant to finally give Grian the mending book, but sent it to Scar instead. This is why Grian's debating sacrificing him despite the fact human sacrifice is very illegal.

[snootlestheangel]

Oh god I might have to write the Animal Shifter AU with Bailey and the 141

Where she's a little cat shifter

Price and Nik are Bears (hehe)

Ghost is a Wolf, Soap is a Raven, and Gaz is an Otter.

I've been thinking about it again, I'll find the original post and reblog it so y'all can know where I'm coming from

But this is basically it.

I have an idea for a plot and everything and oh god

[redadm1ral-moved]

scuttles back on this blog. I come bearing gifts

well, kinda: I'm still throwing myself against the wall that is reworking Chapter 1 of The Plagued Capital (for new followers who've been trickling in during my inactivity: that's my Dishonored/Call of Duty: Modern Warfare crossover). I've come to realize that the first two acts of the fic needed serious overhauling, which I think was contributing to my writer's block; now that I'm smoothing out those issues and changing the plot happenings up a little, I'm a lot more eager to write. I'm also getting a handle on the type of tone and writing style I want to go for in COH as a whole, which means my Chapter 1 rework is going a bit faster too.

it'll be a while before I have new stuff to share still (I've been at the mercy of ailing physical and mental health for a while). but I do really want to share a portion of what's for sure definitely gonna be the final version of Chapter 1. I'll stick it under the cut (and maybe also tag @onlycodcanjudgeme since it's WIP Wednesday)

Dove gray light scattered across the overcast sky as the frigid morning sun crept over the eastern horizon, pulling the jagged fragments of Prague into the tentative embrace of dawn. Black pillars of smoke towered over the city’s rooftops, spitting debris into the clouds and shrouding the world in a thick veil of gray and brown. The air shivered with the deep drone of patrolling helicopters, punctuated by the occasional crack of gunfire from the streets below.

An icy breeze snaked through the old city’s veins, scraping soot from the bottoms of mortar holes and dusting the steps of shelled-out buildings in ash. The ash clung to frost-coated walls, to rain water trapped in the dips and crevices in pavement, to the blood seeping between stones and pooling under the corpses of waxy-faced insurgents. Crows squawked and squabbled between each other as they feasted on the bodies amid the smoldering, mangled remains of the civilian vehicles and military transport trucks scattered across the Old Town Square.

Rising above the carnage, glimmering under brilliant white floodlights and crowned by a grand brass clock, the Hotel Lustig stood as a beacon on the southeastern end of the square. Golden light beckoned from around the scarlet curtains in her arched, frost-kissed windows. Her unblemished silvery walls promised security, comfort, warmth—though only for some.

Soap narrowed his eyes at the Hotel Lustig. Unlike the hotel, the Church of Saint Nicholas swaddled its many occupants in darkness, in the muggy warmth of moving bodies and the tenuous security of her stone walls. But that was many stories below Soap’s feet, in the nave. Up in the church’s mortared bell tower, Soap and his companion, Yuri, weathered the cold October morning on their own. The freezing wind plunged through the mortar hole and sank frosty teeth into exposed skin, chilling their blood and stiffening their gloved fingers, and Soap drank down the stink of smoke and the threat of rain with each slow breath. And yet, rather than envy, the Lustig’s rosy lie of safety inspired contempt. The hotel—and its occupants—could burn as far as Soap cared.

And by noon it would be, God willing.

Soap slipped his hand into his pocket, tangling his fingers in the cool, solid beads of his rosary. This would be the best time and place to appeal to God’s will, if he wanted. And once upon a time he might’ve. But he would not; Soap was certain God had long left the equation by now, just as he was certain of the cool, firm weight of the rifle resting across his thigh.

The shuffle of fabric and the soft clink of metal against metal alerted Soap to Yuri’s movement. He’d started yet another examination of his gear. Nervousness from Yuri wasn’t new—he’d always been quiet and reserved, sometimes to the point of neurosis—but he’d already counted his rounds ten times, and he moved with the careful precision of a man focusing too hard on staying calm. Truthfully, the anxious knot in Soap’s own gut left him with little room to judge even if he wanted. Any apprehension this morning was warranted.

“Which vehicle do you think he’ll be in?” Soap asked. A pointless question; unless he’d spontaneously gained the gift of prophecy, Yuri wouldn’t have a straight answer. And for once, Soap didn’t want one. What he wanted was reprieve.

A few moments slipped by before Yuri lifted his gaze to the hotel. The dim morning light glinted off the round he rolled between his thumb and forefinger, and a white cloud floated past his lips as he let out a long, low breath.

“They constantly rotate for security.” The gentle clink of metal against metal as Yuri slid the round into the magazine underscored his statement. “We won’t know until he steps out.”

It was a perfectly acceptable answer. An educated guess. Soap might’ve come to the same conclusion, had he been asked. Even so, Soap found himself lingering on his companion’s face as Yuri returned to refilling his magazines, searching for…well, he wasn’t certain. Because it was a perfectly acceptable answer, after all, and so he let out a low scoff and simply muttered:

“You seem to know a lot about Makarov.”

Yuri’s fingers stuttered over the rounds, not quite fumbling, then returned to their smooth, rhythmic glide over the metal.

Soap gave himself a mental shake. Paranoia at this stage would do him no good; Yuri was a man, just as susceptible to clumsiness and anxiety as any other. And as Soap turned his gaze once more to the square, to the corpses scattered across the stones and the writhing black mass of crows that devoured them, he knew as well as God that they had every reason to be afraid.

Because Vladimir Makarov was responsible for this. Every corpse, every burning building, every speck of ash and soot on the wind and every drop of blood seeping between the stones of every city square and footpath, the cracks in the pavement of every street—he had orchestrated it all, carving a bloody swathe from the Urals to the shores of the Atlantic. Chasing Makarov had been a long, grueling, bloody endeavor, a spiraling descent into cruelty and betrayal. But it would be worth it. Bringing the architect of a third world war to justice would give meaning to all of Soap’s sacrifices. And maybe, once the head had been lopped off the viper and all was said and done, the dreams would finally—

The crackle of Soap’s radio snapped him back to reality.

“Alpha One,” came Price’s low, firm voice through the static. “Radio check, over.”

The black hands of the Lustig’s clock read seven. Almost time. Soap untangled his fingers from his rosary and held down the transmission.

“Bravo One, copy,” he answered. “We’re dug in with line of sight.”

“Right. Kamarov’s our eyes and ears inside the hotel; once he gives us the nod, we’ll kick this off.”

Soap said nothing as he scanned the hotel again, hunting for any sign of their approaching quarry. A flicker of movement caught his eye—on the second floor balcony, human-shaped blots teemed in the shadows like maggots emerging from carrion. The long silhouettes of rifles stood out against the soft light filtering through the curtained window. Ultranationalists.

“You see that?” Soap growled to his companion. Yuri responded with a low hum, and Soap reached for his radio.

“Price.”

“What do you see?”

“I’ve got some activity on the balcony,” Soap answered. “Four armed guards.”

“Any sign of Makarov?” Price pressed.

Soap scoffed. “Bugger-all, mate; looks like Makarov’s late for his own funeral.” Beside him, Yuri let out a dry snort. “They’ve got curtains up on the second floor—you and Kamarov are gonna have to take care of ‘em if you want sniper support.”

“Right. Sit tight until you’ve got a clean shot.” Price’s low, dry voice darkened. “Then you can put as many rounds on him as you like.”

Here they were: three men perched on the edge of a bloody morning, poised to finally catch their kingfish after years of relentless pursuit. Yuri had never been completely clear about his stakes in this hunt for Makarov, but when their gazes met and the resolve in Yuri’s stony brown eyes mirrored Soap’s, suddenly, the specifics didn’t matter. All that mattered was putting Makarov in the ground.

“It’ll only take one,” Soap growled into the radio.

Silence settled over the bell tower.

The urge to smoke nibbled at the back of Soap’s mind. If time were on his side, he’d have indulged in that craving; instead, he chose to spare his lungs, slipping his hand back into his pocket to tangle once again in the cool comfort of his rosary. The sensation of the beads rolling between his gloved fingers melted some of the tension in his shoulders, and on his tongue settled the distant anticipation for the cigar he’d share with Price once this was all said and done.

“How are you feeling?”

Yuri’s voice snatched Soap from the comfort of his short-lived fantasy, and he gave his companion a quick glance—Yuri stared at the hotel, having abandoned his inventory-taking. With a low huff, Soap averted his gaze and grumbled, “I’m fine. Freezing my arse off, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No,” Yuri pressed. “How are you feeling, John?”

Soap turned toward Yuri with deliberate slowness, making no effort to hide his annoyance; he’d made it clear that he wanted Yuri to address him by either his last name or his callsign. Yuri had never slipped like this before—and if the earnest, though cautious concern lurking in Yuri’s eyes as he faced Soap was of any indication, he hadn’t slipped this time, either. A misguided attempt to foster familiarity, then. Or maybe Yuri just wanted to mess with him.

“What’s this, therapy hour?” Soap released the rosary in his pocket and brought his hand back to his rifle. “I’m fine.”

Yuri hesitated. “Are you still having those dreams?”

Soap arched a brow. “I don’t remember telling you that.”

He and Yuri spun away from each other, repelled by the awkward tension crackling between them. As Soap stared at the men patrolling the Lustig’s second floor balcony, he struggled—and ultimately failed—to suppress a low, sharp sigh.

They’d started in the early days after Shepherd’s last stand. Morphine-induced slumber had trapped Soap in a whirl of twisting dreamscapes, a contradictory cacophony of whimsical vibrancy and achromatic desolation. Under normal circumstances, none of this would be notable; Soap had always been predisposed to vivid dreams, and he blamed any disquieting dips into surreality on the drugs. But as the weeks dragged on, as his knife wound closed and he was weaned off the morphine, one dream persisted—and increased in frequency.

Words alone struggled to encapsulate the sheer vastness of his recurring dreamscape. To Price, he called it an abyss; in his journal, he called it a world of only sky. A cold, brackish mist diffused the light of a blazing sun, a brilliant hole punched through a limitless dark that stretched leagues, eons. Through the mist, a frigid, swirling wind carried the mournful calls of unseen creatures and shivering islands of jagged black stone. One of these islands kept Soap from plummeting into the abyss.

On another island stood a stranger; the flickering haze reduced him to a tangle of disjointed images, to snatches of curly, dark brown hair, patches of a deep umber complexion, and fleeting glances of curious black eyes. The stranger drifted through the mist, sometimes closer, sometimes farther. Sometimes the mist consumed him entirely, with only a deep-seated pull in Soap’s chest to assure him of his sole companion’s presence. Soap’s calls to this stranger went unanswered, swallowed by eternity.

Soap drank in a deep breath, and the frost and ash he swallowed down reminded his lungs of the freezing sting of that unending sky. Images of the black dreamscape lanced through his mind, and dense, deep pressure—the pull, the tether—battered against the cage of his ribs. It felt ridiculous to admit even to himself, but Soap never woke up from these dreams. He returned from them.

Soap drummed his fingers against the side of his rifle and glared out at the broken horizon. After a few moments of prodding the raw inside of his lip with his tongue, he finally asked, “How did you know?”

A few heartbeats passed before Yuri answered: “I overhear you sometimes. Talking to Price.”

“So you’re eavesdropping on us now?” Soap demanded, and internally winced—his attempt at a playful jab had come off far more forceful than he’d intended.

Yuri’s eyes widened. “What? No, I—” He cut himself off with a sharp sigh, then said, “You seemed distracted.”

“I’m fine,” Soap insisted. He drummed one last beat against the side of his rifle before forcing his fingers into stillness. “I’m just focused on Makarov.”

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Yuri asked.

Soap weighed his response against the rifle in his hands. He’d come to Price about the dreams because he trusted him in a way that transcended friendship, transcended family—an entirely different beast than the more tenuous, practical trust he placed in Yuri. To Soap, the quiet, solitary ex-Spetsnaz sat firmly in the categories of ally and asset but not quite friend. He’d assumed Yuri felt the same; perhaps that was why this uncharacteristic line of questioning bothered Soap so much.

“Aye,” Soap finally answered, and he gave Yuri a sideways glance. “I’ll be even better once we put a bullet in Makarov’s skull.”

Yuri nodded, silent and firm.

The minute hand inched past five.

A splash of green and red emerged from the Lustig’s main entryway: four more armed guards, milling impatiently before the Lustig’s stone walls. Then the telltale thunder of a low-flying helicopter rumbled through the frigid air, prompting Soap to duck behind cover moments before it swept into sight. It passed without landing, and Soap raised a brow at his companion, who’d also hidden himself away. Yuri responded with another silent nod just as Soap’s radio buzzed to life.

“You see that?” Price growled through the crackling static.

“Aye,” Soap answered. “Any sign of him?”

“Negativ— Wait.” A pause. “I think that’s them. Four armored vehicles, coming from the east.”

Soap swung his rifle into position and rested it on the edge of the crumbling wall, then settled into his perch overlooking the square. Yuri clicked his magazine back into place and mirrored Soap’s position.

“Head’s up,” Price said. “Makarov’s convoy is arriving now.”

[lostagoodcigar]

Plagued by visions of the 141 but throw them in the Hellsing/Hellsing Ultimate universe

Laswell as Integra, running the Hellsing Organization so well anyone who hears her name has a slight bit of fear and admiration

Price fits in the realm of Walter, Laswell’s right hand man and attends to issues within the manor and within the organization when asked, looks a bit unnerving but can turn on the charm while he’s ripping a man’s heart out

Ghost is Alucard and I could easily see Soap slotting in as Seras. Big brooding insanely powerful vampire and his little yapping newly turned vampire pet who can also turn on a dime and kill someone with a rifle no problem, maybe I’d also slightly insane

I could also see Soap maybe fitting at Pip? But I think Gaz fits there too- with his charm and humor n all that. Laswell needed help, who would Gaz be if he didn’t take a well paying job for him and his men?

Maybe you’re the poor thing that got thrown into the midst of the organization. Your Kate’s niece, thought you applied for a normal assistant job, or you found yourself wrapped in the supernatural world and now that you’ve seen a glimpse of what lurks in the underbelly of Britain Laswell is content to have you as part of the Org.

And she’s got 4 dogs willing to protect and… take ‘care’ of you. Lucky you hm?

[bornofsteelblood]

I can't get this big tall nerd out of my head so I wrote this to ease my mind. DISCLAIMER: This is my take on König but I have other AU's too. I headcanon him to be a reserved nerd whose anxiety stems from being bullied for his size as a kid and now he's aware/confident that he's built like a redwood tree. When he's with his SO, he's happy to yap. My take on the "strong and silent" trope. He studied military history to become a Colonel which evolved into a hobby of collecting war memorabilia. I don't speak German so this may be cringe for anyone that does lol. I haven't written something like this in years, let alone about a character in the military, and I'm not super familiar with the COD franchise. I don't know how to edit this to look fancy either. I'm just a huge König fan. --------------------------------------------------------------------

König had come to terms with his towering stature before he enlisted in the army. He wasn’t always the muscular Austrian that you had come to call your own. Plagued by social anxiety, restlessness, and gangly limbs, he learned to adapt through his military training. He grew into his body but couldn’t shake his inability to stay still. Snipers were renowned for their unwavering hands but this skill evaded König.

Getting rejected from becoming a sniper made him more resourceful, as evidenced by his t-shirt mask that he constructed himself. Adolescent cruelty and resentment towards his size no longer haunted him as he was now a colonel for a private military company. He was confident in his abilities and enjoyed destroying down barriers as an insertion specialist.  

Your relationship blossomed when you discovered the man had a military history degree that complimented your fascination with general history. It thrilled you even more when he took you back to his flat just to showcase the memorabilia he had collected throughout the years, including some impressive tactical gear he took pride in.

You viewed his interests and ramblings as endearing. “I am not boring you?” König asked as he plucked down a canister of discontinued replica bullets from a high shelf. You shook your head with a smile and retorted if he had installed that shelf himself since it was nearly touching the ceiling. Heat rose to his face and you could tell he was smiling under his mask with the crinkles that formed on the corners of his eyes.     

His fondness for your company grew into adoration. The long stretch of his shadow often engulfed your own when he stood near you; a bad omen to most but a reassurance of security to you. The constant shuffle of heavy gear and gloved hands against your waist was comforting. König was a man of few words around his comrades; chiming in when he felt it was important or to interject with his dry, sarcastic humor.

However, his reserved demeanor was another tactic that only you were aware of. Anyone could see that he was an unyielding powerhouse on the field, wielding his body like an indestructible machine as bones effortlessly splintered under the weight of his boot. Only you got to see him become completely defensiveness under your touch.

For instance, the solid weight of a gun was a morbid comfort to König. It gave his hands something to hold and cured his restlessness when he couldn’t touch you. When you were on base, he preferred to holster his gun to his back and allow you his full attention. He’d widen his stance and place his hands on his lower back to stop himself from mindlessly groping you; a point you made that always ended with him sheepishly muttering “Ich kann nichts dafür. Du bist wunderschön.”

He bent down at the waist, hands twitching to stay still, to allow you to brush his mask aside and kiss him deeply. He lost his half-hearted fight to keep his hands to himself when he felt your mouth traveling along the small scars that littered his neck.

Translation:  “Ich kann nichts dafür. Du bist wunderschön.” -> “I can’t help it. You’re gorgeous.”    

[brittle-doughie]

Hi! It’s me again. I have a few things I want to say that are all related to my long fic ask. I apologize if I sound bossy but I have to get it off my chest.

1.I might copy-paste my ask and send it to other people to see what their take on it will be like. Is that ok?

2. I have more info about my Y/N fic ask that I just came up with that I want to share with you in case you ever think about making a sequel, and it’s related to shipping and the Cookies of Darkness this time, so here goes.

Y/N Cookie (AKA Tomato Juice Cookie) is part of the CoD. Y/N doesn’t kill and eat any of them because they all consider them “interesting”. All of the rest of the members are scared (Licorice avoids them like the plague, and Red Velvet never lets them near any of the cake hounds.), or at least somewhat intimidated (Poison Mushroom and Pomegranate are always a bit cautious around them), by them, Including Dark Enchantress Cookie (who considers them to be her equal in power and greatly respects them).

All except one.

Affogato Cookie

Why? Because Affogato and Y/N are in a loving, romantic relationship with each other. In fact, they are actually happy married!

Affogato was not brainwashed, their love for each other was completely mutual. Affogato Is also murderess and cannibalistic like Y/N (so it’s technically an AU) and he often joins Y/N in “gathering food”. Their relationship is completely healthy (at least, as healthy as murderess power couple can be with each other) and Y/N has no plans on killing and him anytime soon (they would never hurt the love of their life. A happy, psychopathic couple.

That’s all I have for now, I hope Tumblr doesn’t mess up again and fail to send this to you.

Warning: Cookie Cannibalism

Affogato Cookie must have one heck of a type if his preference was a cookie eating vampire that likes to make paintings with strawberry jam.

And he must be REALLY dedicated if he’s partaking in Y/N’s…”diet”. CoD round table banquets have quite the accommodating dishes for these two alone, Poison Mushroom better be out of the room when these two dine.

These two lovingly looking at each other as they’re munching on a cooked cookie arm and sipping their glasses of strawberry jam, that’s surely not to going to traumatize the other CoD members.

[konigsblog]

Yo yo yo, love your works. 🥵🎇❤️‍🔥

Also to clarify a lil, yes gooning is related to porn addiction, but tbh it’s quite a severe type of it. It’s like a “state of mind” where people tend to try to keep themselves at the edge of an orgasm for as long as possible and like become overwhelmed and just “dazed”. I’m talking like silent but slack jawed and drooling with blank eyes.

Something wayyy past the point of frequent masturbation to porn. It gets to the point where people start to worship pornography as a “god” and “gooning” becomes like a prayer. No joke it’s as if they are in a cult, absolutely makes them lose sense of morality. Oh also it’s usually solely focused on masturbation, because it warps peoples minds to the point where real sex just doesn’t do it for them.

Anyways I’m saying all this cuz I think it can make a fire concept to write about. Esp that loss of morality part 😋 and how the gooner may use a victim to keep as a literal “live flesh light” doesn’t even pay them any attention just uses their body whilst watching porn to “goon”.

Oof I’m a dark cod writer too but ran out a steam a lil, idk how you keep pumping works so consistently girl. But keep slaying 🤩 (and I’ll keep eating these up 🍽️)

-e.c

thank you for the extra information, this gooner au us plaguing my mind even more now :( 🪦🕊️

tw: non-con, rape, "gooning", gooner/depraved!könig, cult-like themes, hints at kidnapping.

the thought of "gooning" being like a cult is crazy to me. imagining him using you as a sacrifice; eyes wide and drool dripping down his chin as he pounds into your swollen, raw folds. you can barely speak, his rough and fast thrusts knock the wind from your lungs, silencing your cries for mercy and help. he's not using you for his pleasure, you're just an outlet, something to help him. he rocks and drives his thick hips against your ass, gritting his teeth as he pants and growls, addicted to the porn on his computer screen.

since he views pornography as a "god", he spends most of his time "praying" and by praying, i mean jerking off, his wrist painfully sore from the continuous movements. he sits, eyes glued to the screen and his dick drooling, his captive chained to the wall, naked and bare and bruised after his cruelty.

he will watch almost anything, regardless of how immoral and wrong it may be.

[justadeadreaper]

CW: Gore, Death, Puke, Decaying flesh, Buboes, Blood, Description of the symptoms of the different plagues in The Black Death, Gruesome description of how the representation would look like, Please tell me if anything that should be put as a warning was not, thanks.

The most feared plague in history, The Black Death.

Mainly the bubonic plague mixed with its two more deadly brothers the pneumonic plague and septicemic plague. It was the deadliest plague of the time as it ran through Europe, Africa, and Asia and conquered any village, town, and city it found itself in, flooding the streets with blood, mucus, and rotted flesh as once healthy humans dropped dead from the plague that seemed to come from nowhere before it dragged everyone to the Hell it had seemed to have spawned from. It did not care who you were, it did not discriminate, rich or poor, loved or hated, known or not, it would blow out the little life that you had. It thrived off the fear and only seemed to grow stronger as another soul joined the long chain of victims that had already succumbed to the disease. Anywhere from twenty to sixty percent of the population of the time was taken by it.

The perpetrator? Yersinia pestis. The carriers? Fleas. The spreader? Rats but some say it could have actually been hamsters that were stowaways. But how were the rats able to spread? Trading ships that jumped from town to town leaving a deadly gift as it sailed away that would lead to the death of all that were unfortunate enough to live there.

Now you may ask what would happen if you were to catch it and let me tell you it was living torture. It would start with a simple flea bite but that flea was infected with Yersinia pestis causing it to build a barrier in its stomach so no blood could be digested or go into its stomach causing it to build up and be infected by the bacteria, and this blood would be thrown back up by the flea onto the wound infecting it as it would be absorbed into the bloodstream. From entering the bloodstream it could take one of three routes: the lymphatic system, continuing through the bloodstream, or directly to the lungs. If you were lucky enough for it to infect your lymphatic system then you had a sixty percent chance of dying meaning you had a forty percent chance of surviving. Even though you had more chances of surviving it did not mean that you were saved from not suffering, from one to seven, or if you were lucky eight, days of contracting the disease was when it would show symptoms. At first it would trick you into the false belief that you only had the flu. You would have a general feeling of being ill, lethargic and weak which only grew into worse fatigue as the days went on, followed by chills and a high fever which anyone would know just seems to be like a normal cold but then that soon developed into muscle cramps in your aching limbs as seizures overtook the body. Then it would present the symptom that gave it the name the bubonic plague, buboes. These were when the lymph nodes would balloon to become large, painful, smoothe swellings which would occur near the original area of infection alongside the groin, neck, and armpits which would continue to grow until they burst. You also had the issue of your skin slowly beginning to necrotise as it died alongside the lenticulae which were small black dots that would be scattered across your body and gangrene took over your lips, nose, toes, and fingers which all caused severe pain to the point you would rather die there and then instead of waiting it out to see if you had the lucky chance of surviving. Of course there were other symptoms like heavy breathing as your lungs felt like they were being held down by rocks, your own body becoming like the flea as it would start to vomit gallons of infected blood, coughing, gastrointestinal problems, and spleen inflammation, but in some cases even the sleep would be disturbed to the point of insomnia where sleep would be impossible to get as your were forced to stay awake to feel all the pain that riddled your body. But then the worst of the systems came at the final stage as delirium came and took over any rational thought as all organs began to fail from the disease overcoming them and causing them to shut down which only led to a coma, but it all ended the same way, death.

If you were unlucky enough for it to infect your lungs first or just infect your lungs before the other systems became worse then you had a ninety-five percent chance of dying meaning you had a five percent chance of surviving. To make the pneumonic plague even worse you could develop it even after being infected by either the bubonic plague or the septicemic plague; it could also be caught from not just it infecting your lungs after a bite which infected the bloodstream but by also breathing in air borne droplets of the bacteria from another thing that was riddled with the plague. As it would normally be caught after having bubonic or septicemic plague it meant that at first you would present all the symptoms from the other plagues before experiencing the specifics of the pneumonic plague. At first you would think you have a fever but a severe one as headaches, nausea, and weakness run rampant as if it was trying to warn you that this would be no normal bubonic or septicemic plague. Luckily compared to the bubonic plague the time you would suffer with this plague was a great short, even though it would take around three to seven days before the symptoms showed as soon as the symptoms worsened or even showed you could guarantee that you would be dead within thirty-six hours, most likely less. You would be constantly vomiting for three days straight as your lungs slowly began to feel as if they were being sewn shut at each bronchus, only leading to each breath becoming shorter and shorter as you seemed to constantly be coughing and rasping for the tiniest bit of unrestrained air. Then soon enough your lungs would spew out a bloody and watery mess that would stain your tongue with its mercury taste which you would continue to cough out in between the vomiting until you went into shock as your full respiratory tract went into failure and just stopped, finally leading to death.

But if you were the most unfortunate person alive on Earth at the time that every God seemed to hate since it stayed in your bloodstream and completely infected your blood it meant you had no chance of surviving as you had a hundred percent chance of dying. It made the other two diseases seem like child’s play as it normally only took around fourteen hours before it shut down the body, worse of all it could even kill you without showing any of the symptoms. Like the others you would think it was a common cold due to the fever, chills, and low blood pressure but soon enough severe abdominal pain would set in as it felt like you were dying due to the extreme amount of diarrhea which would be accompanied by nausea that only led to severe vomiting. But soon enough the vomit and diarrhea would be filled with blood until it was fully red as the body lost most of its clotting resources from the tiny blood clots that had formed throughout the body so it could no longer control the blood which started to bleed into the skin and organs creating red or black patches of rashes or bumps which could be seen on the skin. The blood clotting also caused necrosis as tissue and organs would die from the lack of blood flow as it all leaked into where it should not, the most obvious spots of the decay were the gangrene in the fingers, nose, and toes. Then the bleeding would extend from not just bleeding in the body but blood coming out from the rectum but most noticeably the mouth and nose where it would come out like a waterfall. Obviously due to the blood leaking into everything it would cause difficulty breathing as it would fill the lungs and deprive it of the blood outside the lungs that was needed to exchange the carbon dioxide for oxygen. And with no blood to deliver the oxygen needed for the organs to live they all would go into organ failure causing the body to go into shock before the final moments where everything went back as it was taken over by death.

As it can be seen all of them had the same outcome, death.

Luckily nowadays the plagues are a simple pest if the person has access to treatment to stop it from progressing further but at the time that The Black Death ran rampant no one had the luxury of those treatments leading most to die who caught it. Masses upon masses of bodies continued to build up only attracting more of the rats then the ones that had already been attracted to the large towns by the excrement and rotting butcher’s meat that made a river through the streets. With more rats that withered away from the disease it just meant more fleas would jump to more human hosts to use which only led to more living corpses to roam the streets as the disease turned people into skeletons while still living before turning them into an actual corpse.

It was understandable as to why humans of the time would be so scared of such a thing as to them it just seemed like their fellow mortals were dropping like lowly flies that would eat away at the flyblown flesh that continued to pile away in mass graves to create more nests for their larvae and eggs to incubate inside. Imagine the terror and fear that must have filled their minds as they did not understand pathogens at the time, to them it would have seemed like divine wrath but no one could think of a reason as to why their Almighty would betray them like this as everyone appeared to be on their best behaviour. They needed something to blame. They found something to blame. 

Simple rumours turned into truths.

Somewhere in England there was said to be a village. Small, nothing of concern as it was like every other village of the time. Like every other village it had a butcher, a silent man who was rumoured to once be a knight but no one knew why he was not anymore. He tended to be quiet, avoiding others who were not his friends and family. It was said that he loved his nephew and that if he had enough swigs of barley that you could get him singing and dancing on the roof or you could convince him to give you his primest cuts of meat. He was deemed as normal, he was like everyone else, until one day.

No one knew what happened. It was supposed to be a joyous day to celebrate the coming of winter but it was far from that. Nearly the whole family was found butchered with a precision only expected to be known by a trained killer. The lower left leg and most of the fingers of the right hand of the older brother laid in a puddle of blood but they could not find the rest of his body; the mutilated body of the brother’s wife was spread around slightly from each different part as if when she was being attacked the culprit had went after another member while still holding onto the part it was hacking off; the body of their son was curled into the corner clutching onto the leg of his mother while out of the stab holes that covered his body in ten folds nearly making him unidentifiable oozed out blood into a bloody puddle that collected around his body; and finally the grandmother of the family who was found decapitated in her rocking chair with her head being found outside within the well. The only one not found dead was the butcher and when he returned, covered in blood, everyone turned their suspicions to him. When he tried to explain that he had been out hunting but had been attacked by a large grey man no one believed him, especially when they saw the crazed look within his eyes that could only be produced by when they had let Beelzebub into their soul. Everyone agreed to grab their pitchforks and chase him out so no more could be hurt.

It was only a few months before the figure started to appear across the world. People from the village murmured to other villages and beyond when they heard what the figure looked like in its earlier stage that they believed it to be the same butcher infected with the plague of Beelzebub to infect the world with their sin to bring more to Hell. Everyone believed him to be the reason for the spread of the plague. It was said that if you were to see him within the fields outside of any town, village, or city that all the inside were destined to die. 

The Ghost of The Black Death.

A figure that would strike the fear into the hearts of all.

A horde of rats followed behind him in trails as flies buzzed around his head, if he was near you would always see a Black Shuck which commanded a storm alongside it as if they were his hounds of doom brought along to give the townsfolk warning of their dire fates and to pray to the Almighty while they were still apart.

A black coat hid the majority of his body as bloodied rags of old hunting gear of a peasant hung off of skeletal remains with a jaw hanging off his neck as if it was a necklace as it was tied there with rope. Messy blonde hair spread out in all directions as blood leaked out from the tear ducts in a false mockery of the tears that millions had split in their last moments. No nose or bottom jaw could be found, decayed off long ago. The face looked skeletal as teeth, gums, and a tongue were exposed to the bitter air that reeked of death and loss as the cheeks were tattered in form as more skin continued to flake off as it continued to decays; once blue eyes so full of life were left sunken, dead as if they were another victim that had succumb to the plague that the Ghost was said to bring alongside him. A trail of buboes surrounded his neck as if it was a noose to which he could hang himself with as the tail was marked by a diversion of buboes that wrapped around and under his arms to around his groyne. His spine and ribs jutted out for all to see underneath the greyed skin which was littered with blackened patches of decay as branches of red veins leaked and bleed out to leave a path of blood in his wake for all to track him by. Still, as he rotted away, vague faints of the muscular body that had been far gone from its prime lingered where it once remained. The bottom of his calves with his feet and the bottom of his forearms with his hands had turned black and mummified from the decay and gangrene that had taken them over, leaving no remaining sensations within the hands to feel the warmth of a human ever again for the rest of eternity.

If you were to see him late at night, staring into your soul you better pray that The Ghost does not turn you into another soul like him.

[cod-dump]

Price adopts very young orphans (around two or three) Gaz and Farah, later marrying Graves who becomes the kids’ stepdad. Right off the bat they see Graves as a threat and reject him. Graves, for the next couple of months after he moves in, tries to bond with them but every time Gaz or Farah just brush him off or just ignores his attempts.

Price tries talking with them after a particularly cruel comment but all that does is make it where Gaz and Farah don’t say things when Price is around. Graves eventually stops trying to bond with them and just accepts he won’t be a parent in their eyes. He does still try to discipline them but trying to be their friend is now out of the question. He doesn’t say anything to Price because he doesn’t want to become between him and his kids. He doesn’t want to actually make Gaz and Farah’s fears come true.

One evening Price is running late and asks Graves to pick up Gaz and Farah from the bus stop. He agrees even though he wonders if the two would even get in the car with him. After waiting at the bus stop for half an hour and the bus finally rolling up, Graves braces himself for the worst.

What he didn’t expect was Gaz and Farah getting off the bus with four older kids following them. Graves thinks nothing of it and assumes that they live in the neighborhood. But once the bus leaves they swarm Gaz and Farah. The moment they were shoved to the ground Graves jumped out of his car and stormed over. He was beyond pissed at seeing that they were middle schoolers picking on a ten and eleven year old.

They got scared off the moment Graves started yelling and ran off. Graves made sure they weren’t coming back before checking on Gaz and Farah. They had scrapes on them and some bruises but other than that they weren’t injured. They were quiet and tearing up as he herded them into the car and took them home. At home as he bandaged them up he got to them to talk some about why those kids were picking on them.

Once he heard it was because the middle schoolers were homophobic and didn’t like that they had a gay dad he was furious. He got the kids’ names after much coaxing before sitting Gaz and Farah in the living room and wrapping them in blankets before storming off to the kitchen to make a few phone calls.

He would spend what felt like hours yelling at school officials and parents. When they didn’t do anything immediate to punish the kids Graves bluntly stated that Gaz and Farah wouldn’t be returning to school. Graves grew up in a small southern town and knew very well how cruel people could be to those who were different or had someone who was different in their lives. He wasn’t about to let Gaz and Farah be tormented in school because of their dad.

When Price finally got home Graves explained what happened. He got nervous after telling Price he told the school that Gaz and Farah wouldn’t be going there anymore. They weren’t his kids, they were Price’s. And he made a big decision without consulting Price first. But Price wasn’t angry at him and told him he made the same decision that he would have. After a kiss Price goes to talk to Gaz and Farah.

Since that day, after getting Gaz and Farah settled in a new school, the two acted completely different towards Graves. They didn’t make rude remarks, reject his attempts at small talk, ignore him when he tried to talk to them. They didn’t do a complete 180 but they were no longer acting like he was the scum of the earth.

A couple years would go by when Graves would go to pick Gaz and Farah up from school. They got into the car and immediately started talking about their day. When they got home and once they got to the door, Farah would say something that made his heart explode.

“What’s for dinner, Dad?”

He sobbed for an thirty minutes while on the phone with Price, Farah thinking she said something wrong. He would insist she said nothing wrong and then Gaz would get a relieved look on his face. Price would come home, they would eat dinner, and before Gaz and Farah went to bed they gave their nightly hug to Price. Graves had his back turned when they hugged him as well before running off to bed.

Price had to hold him up as he cried, never being happier before in his life.

[kit-williams]

Masterlist

Hi decided to actually make a masterlist because it's probably for the best.

Things to know: I will write from a mainly female pov/perspective and it will for the most part be monogamous hetro relationships (in the terms of genitals) I won't do fxf or mxm or trans because that's not how I grew up and I'm god awful at writing homosexual sex (genderbend I can do) Another no: Adultry/cheating/spouse(or partner) thievery

Asks are open

Come buy me a coffee

Number of asks waiting to be answered: 15

My Ao3 (I havent updated a story on there since like 2016 I'm scared to even let ya'll see it but I might post the AU on there)

So I mainly write Halo, Runescape, and Warhammer 40k but here I've only been posting my Warhammer 40k and D&D au

So expect a lot of polls because it helps focus my ADHD ass

Also Fanart is ALWAYS allowed! Just Tag me!

PLACE WHERE YOU CAN ASK TO BE PUT ON TAG LIST

Poll Storage Pheromone Spray poll part 1 First kiss part 2 Pheromone Spray part 2 Husbandry lewdness poll First Kiss part 3 How to tag the lewd poll probably going with carnal bond Should momrad include skin tone WIP poll Help momrad focus on what to write Ones ready to be typed

WIPs

Warhammer 40k

The D&D AU

The Yandere Black Templar and Flesh Tearer

The Yandere Space Marine Masterlist

Story Vault until I know where to put these stories/how to categorize them

The boys and their darlings

This is not Canon mini masterlist

Primarchs masterlist

Pheromone Spray 1 2

Bonus Zul Spray

Song Inspiration

First Kiss 1 2 3

Typhus fleas 1 2

Baseline hitting on the darlings

Varial the insatiable

Lamenters devouring

Raven in the belfry

Child in the Eyrie

First Words Can Damn You

Warhammer Fantasy

Dangerous Druchii pending

Warhammer 40k & COD

The COD Integration mini-masterlist

Demon Prince/Bloodthirster Graves

The 40k au

How does Horangi spend the thrones? Horangi focused

Lieblings König focused

Spirit Halloween Ghost focused

Hey Kiddo Price focused

Where do babies come from reply

Hail to the King Black Templar König

Everyone is space elves

COD

The mud pit cope fic

Hot Chocolate cope fic König focused

Missing the Bairn cope fic Soap focused

Zombie cope fic Ghost focused

He scares me Nikto focused happens before the Soap one

It's a wonderful life CODHoliday2023 fic angst-comfort Ghost

Age hcs/boys ages

Random romantic thing I wrote

Tanz mit mir Regency Au songfic

Halo

Most of it is on my Ao3

Random

The eventual bringing over that one non con I wrote pending

I have to edit it

The #I wrote something for my tumblr can help too

Sentience base off of lancer but I really just like the Balor

Baby fluff

barn anon/Tales from the Barn/Space Marine Husbandry Sentience

I will rename this when I can sit and think of better titles for them

Space Marine Husbandry Sentience Plot Beats

Space Marine Husbandry Sentience Mini Master List

51 more Space Marine Husbandry Sentience & Tales from the Barn

Hey Look another Space Marine Husbandry Mini Masterlist

Golden Apotheosis

Birthdays

avoiding bonds and eye contact

Favorite Wretch

Dischorus and Caracuss

Sentience Lore: Warp Fuckery

Weight of the Worlds

Insanity seems to follow...

Party

Anrir Husbandry

Reverse Husbandry AU

Reverse Husbandry Gabriel

Reverse Husbandry Headcanon

Reverse Husbandry Emperor

Sanguinius and Glitter

Gabriel and his sick human

Human Husbandry?

Primarchs in the reverse world

Gaius flees

Judgement from the Lord of Iron

Seeing things

Funny stuff/Fan art

Ovaries Stolen meme

Fan art by bispecsual

Blood Angel Gabriel meme

ZUL by moodymisty

Angron Post Surgery expression

Fan art by c-u-c-koo anon of Plague Witch

Apollo and Dodgeball

Plague Witch part 2 by c-u-c-koo anon

Apollo by greenarsonist

Aurora by greenarsonist

Fluffuary

Fluffuary master list

Fluffuary rules

MerMay

Story list

[devil-in-hiding]

Helloooooo.

I've never played or cared much about cod but in the last few days all I've been reading are 141 fics because ei found your blogggg. My mind has also been plagued by ec141 and the reader lol.

I came cross this video on my fyp and immediately thought of readers animals in that au so I thought I'd share.

I hope the link works lol.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGecWhBhW/

this is so fuckin cute that’s literally big bubba as a young cow

i will be introducing big bubba soon because i need price beefing over dominance with an animal

[snootlestheangel]

- How does Ghost/Soap finding her change Bailey’s reaction to Price?

- Does Price still want to adopt her?

- Is she going to be a Ghoap kid now instead of Price/Nik?

- Are they still Taskforce?

- Is there still an incident? Or did something else bad happen to Bailey’s family?

I have lots of questions and need to know more!

Also I love seeing you do AUs of your fic! It’s so fun!

Being found by Ghoap doesn't really change her perspective on Price just because of the nature of how she's found (which I'll explain)

He absolutely still sees her and just decides "yup that's my new kid"

It's a wonderful idea but defeats the purpose of Papa Bears NikPrice so we're sticking to her being Price's kid

Yup, still Taskforce, just a special one made for the best shifters in the SAS

There was still technically an incident, just not The Incident. It's more known as the Great Shifter Hunt, in which a radical group of humans kidnapped, tortured and killed dozens of innocent shifters. Whole families fell victim, Bailey just happened to be one of the few to escape when TF141 infiltrated the place to put a stop to it all. Bailey's twin and younger sibling were still alive at the time of her escape, yet didn't survive their wounds. She wasn't able to be with them for this.

So Soap and Ghost know they're looking for a shifter, which is why they kind of assume to know its the spicy brown kitten hiding under a truck. There's a bit more fluff to the Ghost/Bailey interaction that makes it to where he's able to confirm she's a shifter but it's not necessary to what I said earlier. Anyways, their job was to at least find her. They keep an eye on her for a bit before Laswell takes over. She and Price are the ones to talk to her about what she remembers and what the next steps are, especially for her. It's still a very similar process, it's just more like she's introduced to the boys from the start.

Please consider massive Wolf Ghost trying to befriend a hissy kitten Bailey. Like those big German Shepherds with a kitten the size of their paw

Please if anyone has more questions, please. This idea is eating me up inside, I'm going insane thinking about it.

[mi-i-zori]

A Wild Hunt

CoD Fae!AU - Fae!Ghost x The Hunter (Fem!Reader) SYNOPSIS : The Winter is a dangerous place, filled with creatures driven by hunger and greed. But the Hunter doesn’t fear them, for she was forged to face them, and eliminate the nuisances plaguing the frozen land. And It always lets her go unscathed - a favor in exchange of another. She always knows how to stay safe ; until a peculiar spirit of the Frost proves her otherwise. WARNINGS : Gore, body horror, death, weapons, violence, blood, wounds, predator behavior (Fae VS Human), fluff...

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform, including AI.

1 - A Cold Meeting

2 - A Deep Cleansing (Ft. The Apothecary)

3 - The Hunter and The Prey

4 - Nightmare of the Frost