Latest Posts by eicee - Page 3

everyone: what's your goal in life?

me: to write a story so soul snatching, so gut wrenching and so devastatingly beautiful that it leaves you crying at 3am when you have a 8am lecture/shift and it inspires people to write entire essays, to write entire fanfics, mood boards and playlists based on it.

Thanks to the girls who write fanfiction for making me happy and restoring my faith in the humanity. ❤️

credits for the pic: ghostsgirlie

22Soap + 09Ghost meeting in the afterlife🤯🔥

Things that are broken also end up there!!

,,quite a lot when one can’t drive(22ghost) and one breaks a lot of laptops(09ghost)

Someone reblogged my post about racists intentionally leaving Gaz out of 141 content and they said “It's not that people are racist, it just that most, not all, but most people just aren't attracted to Gaz and won't include him...”.

How dense can you be?

You don’t have to be attracted to Kyle. Everyone has their preferences, but to write 141 content, specify that the content is for 141 as a whole, leave out Kyle and/or replace him, is FUCKING RACIST. No one writes for 141 and swaps out any other member; it’s always Gaz.

Please don’t reblog my posts with stupid comments like that. You’ll be blocked, just like the person who made this asinine comment.

It goes without saying, but 141 includes Kyle “Gaz” Garrick. If you’re gonna exclude him, your content shouldn’t say it’s about the 141. Period.

The cod fandom is so fucking white what even .The Gaz erasure is so gross .a lot of you don’t even try to hide it .Don’t get me wrong you can write about whoever you want but to title it is as 141 X reader and then not include gaz is just disgusting .

too real.... guilty as charge on all accounts~

Being approached by a real man in the real world like a normal person -

Ewww...go away!

Fantasizing about a fictional man that has taken over your soul and holds a tight grip on your subconscious -

Gimme gimme gimme!!

For all the COD lovers out there...

okay i’m really tired of the gaz exclusion💀

i was on a tiktok live of someone playing mw2 and this person was like “i like everyone except gaz” and this other person agreed saying “SAMEEEE” like ????? wdym everyone but gaz???? and so i asked “why do yall not like gaz genuine question” and then one of them asked “gaz is kyle right?” and just completely ignored my question😭 like atp it’s just racism cuz everyone but gaz???? you didnt even know that gaz was kyle???? did u even watch the actual gameplay???? im probably being over dramatic but this really ruffled my feathers clearly💀

You've heard of Elf on the Shelf...

. .now get ready for:

This is so badly done if artists wanna do it properly pls do 😭.

It's Soap on a rope, Ghost on toast, Price on rice, and Kyle in a file

here's another veiled racist thing i've noticed amongst the CoD fandom. it's when writers deliberately title something like "call of duty headcannons" or "(situation x) with call of duty men" rather than titling it "141 headcannons" or "(situation x) with 141" to give the excuse of not adding gaz.

because if it's "(situation x) with call of duty" it's less likely that people are going to call out the exclusion of gaz because the horizon has been expanded. which is still unsettling to me because when i see this title, followed by Price/Soap/Ghost/König, it gives off the feeling that if i were to ask "why'd you leave out Gaz?" i'd get a "it's Call of Duty men, not 141 men"— if that makes sense? idk if that makes sense.

which then makes me wonder if it's "Call of duty men" then why include these three specific men of this specific faction and then remove their teammate and add another character from a different faction, rather than writing about four characters from four different factions?

if it's call of duty men, why not go Price/König/Nikolai/Alejandro? instead of trying to hide behind a fucking technicality to hide your racism??

This thing breaks me every. single. time. because Simon is such a mama's boy. He had been getting tortured with his comrades non-stop, and this is literally his reaction when being told ''that's your mother's skull''. His smile?? The comfort he's getting as he holds it?? I'm gonna scream.

Not only this but he's such a family man it's insane. This man kicked his abusive father who had been tormenting them for over 20 years out of the house, beat his ass, didn't go back to the army until his brother recovered from addiction (which he saved him from), was his brother's best man when he got married, loved and cherished his whole family, used to play with his brother's kid, showed his family true love and what a normal life is for years, even after he got hung by the ribs, tortured, SAd by men and women, had violent nightmares and mild psychosis.

This man was about to kill himself when he found his family dead, but instead he decided to get revenge for them and kill those responsible for their death, all the while he decided to become a Ghost and give his family a funeral pyre, destroying everything that attached him to Simon. But no, Simon never fully died and he knows it, that's why his tattoo sleeve has a set of dog tags in honor of him.

I want to share some advice given to me by my mother, who has been writing longer than I have been alive, and is one of the wisest people I've ever met.

I was emotional and upset and told her "I'm burnt out and tired, and I think I may stop writing entirely."

She sighed, not unkindly, and said:

"Darling you may not have a choice. That's the thing about writers is that when they have a story to tell, it will not leave them alone until it is finished. Writers write not always because they like it, but because they have a gift and a curse to tell stories. When you keep it inside of yourself, it will find a way to get out whether you like it or not. It's not up to you. Take a break, allow your stories to rest, and when they are ready they will try to break free again."

I see people fearful that they get to a point where they will never put words to paper again. But the truth is once you find a story to tell, your story, it won't stay inside of you until it's finished. Isn't that magical? Isn't that beautiful?

Take your time, darling. The rest will come when it is ready

just heard that a bunch of cod actors (including Julian) are pro Isreal life is ass !!

I knew there was some stuff with Nick Martineau/Horangi being pro-Israel (at the very least, focusing on the wrong issues and being willfully ignorant) and Maria Camargo initially posting some pro-Israel stuff (not sure where she stands now, iirc she reposted pro-Palestine stuff but my memory is shot), but I thought the others were better……..

I swear I saw Barry and Sam at least repost pro-Palestine stuff, even Julian and Neil strike some memories, but I may just be misremembering?? Bestie if you can tell me where you got the info, I’d appreciate it because wagh 😭😭

I don’t keep up with celebs for a reason… no matter how nice they seem, you never know who they are. There’s been countless celebs that have shocked me with their stances, COD actors included…

I think this is obvious atp, but for anyone wondering: This blog is firmly pro-Palestine. What’s going on is a humanitarian crisis, and just like how I won’t tolerate anti-semitism on here, I will not tolerate Zionism. If you’re pro-Isreal, kindly fuck off.

*hugs*

aww thankyyy friend *hugs back* 😭♥️

*Incoming long personal rant.*

Reading this made me tear a bit. I had a medical operation back in June and July, that made me not move too much with my arms for at least a month. I can move back to normal-ish since September. That September I played the OG Call of Duty though prior to this I played MW2019 way back and played it on repeat while MW2022 I just watched repeatedly lol.

Just need to acknowledge myself since I was in a series of transitions of my life: I had graduation as a Fine Artist (as a Cum Laude, shocking for me.) on June, 1st operation on June also, then 2nd operation in July and after that recovery till September where I considered myself in ✨funemployed era✨.

Now I need to acknowledge my feelings and things, too many feelings at once I am currently realizing that I have. Prior to before operation, we had a tradition called baccalaureate mass for the graduation class, I was unable to attend due to medical procedures that day and I cried a lot for days, liked very hard, that my parents said why I was so moody at that time they kinda not acknowledge the reason I'm sad and that I 'overreacted' lol (well that's not new to me). I admit I had lost some opportunities as an artist. One of them is having an art exhibition as an alumni, just a jumpstart that I am unable to due because I just recovered from my 1st operation. The spark as an artist after the operations kinda died in me(for months). I know I shouldn't be too hard on myself but sometimes I can't help it. Many lost opportunities and moments were a lost for me at first.

Call of Duty, for its fandom and content, (besides the toxicity) I love and especially this Tumblr CoD community. Writers, artists, and the people made me realize that maybe life isn't too bad after all. Thank you writers, artists, and people for making it such a comfy place towards people like me. You people made people like me, come back to making writings and artworks that we're grateful for or others that use this community as a viewing pleasure and something to deep dive into. Hope we last long and yeet that certain recent official canon lol.

your worth doesn't come from what you provide as an artist or as a person you're enough on your own

Graves + Shadows Headcanons

Unsurprisingly, he's very protective of his Shadows. Yes, they're mercenaries and soldiers and very much capable of looking after themselves, but he will not tolerate it when clients treats his Shadows as expendable. They are his soldiers.

Graves has absolutely gone out of his way to get to know the Soldiers that work under him. He knows each and every one of them by name, a random fact about them and at least one of their interests.

Would and has killed for his Shadows at one point or another and would do it again. The same goes vice versa.

Movie night at least once a month in the rec room is compulsory.

Team bonding exercises/days out are also compulsory. They all need to get along one way or another if they're going to be relying on each out out in the field.

Has offered himself in exchange for the safe return of one of his soldiers who was captured during a mission.

Actually put an age restriction on becoming a Shadow. Being a mercenary isn’t easy and it’s very different to being a soldier in the army. All shadows are over 21 when hired, but even then most are over the age of 25.

Due to the nature of their roles, being injured enough to lose a limb isn’t as rare as Graves prefers. When this happens, he has always made sure the Shadow affected has access to the best medical care as well as prosthetics should they want it. If they decide to leave/retire from Shadow company after that, they are still given access to the best medical care money can buy funded out of Graves' own pocket.

Is surprisingly good at cutting hair! Some Shadows don't feel comfortable having a stranger cut their hair/see their faces underneath their masks if they wear one often. He learnt how to cut hair pretty well from his momma.

HUGE on his Soldiers going to therapy. Some missions are harder than others and especially stressful, it's important his Shadows have a place to vent.

Has several chefs with different specialities in the kitchen who are all able to create and cook nutritional and delicious meals that all cater to everyone’s eating preferences.

Many of the younger Shadows have called him dad at least once by accident. It’s a running gag at this point and Graves always laughs it off and then goes to his room to cry a lil bit.

Expanding on this, a lot of the Shadows view him as a parental/familial figure and Graves prides himself on that fact. He doesn’t see them as his own kids, considering some of them are older than he is, but he definitely considers all of them part of his family.

Further expanding on that, some of the older Shadows have called him 'son' on several occasions and he has caught himself almost calling them dad more than once.

One of his Shadows named their first born son after him. They brought little Phil to base when he was only a few weeks old and let Graves hold the kid and he 100% ugly cried and refused to give the baby back for a solid 2 hours.

Some of his Shadows have kids back at home. Graves has memorised all their names and birthdays and makes sure to send them a little something on their special days. The younger kids calls him Uncle Philly and he absolutely cried when he heard them go “Hi Uncle Philly!” across call once.

have a request? send one in!

Ahhhhh I love this 🥹😭

141 + Nikolai Reactions to Soap Coming Back/Being Alive

Words: 2.8k Warnings: Mentions of depression, alcoholism/self destructive behaviour Ships: Ghost/Soap, (implied) NikPrice A/N: i swear this was only supposed to be around 600 words but my brain wouldn't stop until i wrote all of this. up next: los vaqueros reaction.

- Price / words: 683

Soap’s death had been sudden. Unexpected. He was so young– the youngest, but he was one of the best. Only a Sergeant, but he could have gone as far as becoming something of a Captain in a few years time if he kept his head screwed on. All that promise and potential, taken away by one single bullet– no. Not the bullet– the man wielding the gun. Price doesn’t remember the last time he had slept more than 4 hours in the night since they spread Soap’s ashes. There was too much to do. There were other lives to save– other lives that were yet to be lost. Mourning for the man would have to come later. Later. Later. Later. There was only so many times that Price could push his needs to the back of his mind before it boiled over. So he took to cigars– cigarettes, if he was in desperate need. Alcohol became a common nightcap for him. Not enough to affect his performance as a Captain, but enough to garner worried looks from Ghost, Gaz, Nikolai and Kate. He couldn’t have them worrying about him– not now, not when they themselves were all reaching breaking points of their own. Ghost had withdrawn on himself to the point he was even worse off than when Price had first met him. He grunted and mumbled his words or avoided conversations entirely. He was still a beast on the battlefield and during missions, almost scarily so. His kills became more brutal, more messy. Dirty, Nikolai had called it once as he watched overhead as Ghost snuck up on a man and stabbed him 27 times. He had counted. 

And Gaz. Who had blamed himself. Price didn’t need to be a therapist to know that. What broke his heart the most was when he was escorting an exhausted Gaz back to his room when the sergeant muttered something under his breath. 

“Wazzat, Garrick?”

“... should’ve been me, sir.” Price didn’t have the words to respond to the statement. It shouldn’t have been Soap. Or Gaz. Or Ghost. It shouldn’t have been any of them. If anything, it should have been Price himself. If Soap hadn’t rushed in head first to save him, then Soap would still be here–

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Price would deny to his dying breath that he choked around his cigar when a familiar face entered his office. He had been run ragged and thin these past few weeks– chasing leads on Makarov and also juggling the emotions that hung in the air since Soap’s untimely demise. Or ‘apparent’ demise, considering said man had just walked into the room as if nothing had happened and Price hadn’t watched his head successfully catch a bullet while trying to save his life. 

“... surprise…?” Soap said awkwardly as he shut the door quietly behind him, scratching the side of his head as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Like still being alive. Price could have snorted at the absurdity of it. Instead, he rose to his feet and ignored the screeching of the chair behind him. He stared at Soap as he rounded his desk, striding towards the not-so-dead-Sergeant.

“Fuck my old boots, I’m going crazy.” he breathed. Jogging the last few steps, he envelops the scot in a hug. One arm wraps around Soap’s back, the other cradling the back of his head. The body beneath the palms of his hands is warm, thrumming with a steady and strong heartbeat. 

“John.” he whispered and arms wrapped around him in return, squeezing some of his jagged pieces back into place. The time to explain how or why would come later. For now, he was comforted by the fact that Soap was still living and breathing. He was still here. He had unknowingly given Price a second chance– one that the dear Captain would not squander.

“Preferred it when ye called me sunshine, sir.”

“Don’t push your fucking luck, Sergeant.” If Price’s grip on the other man tightened, neither said a word.

- Gaz / words: 565

Gaz has been running laps every single day since Soap died. He had been training, pushing himself as hard and as far as he could go. He wasn’t quick enough. He wasn’t quick enough to help when his team needed him most. He wasn’t quick enough to help Soap when he stared at Death in the face and watched as he pulled the trigger. He should have been faster– he convinced himself that he had to be faster. For Ghost. For Price. He wouldn’t fail them like he had failed Soap. He still thinks about the day they lost the scotsman. Remembers the blood pooling around his head like a sickening halo. He uses it as an incentive. As a reminder for what he lost that day– for what he still has left to lose.

Another lap came to an end in the form of him wheezing and almost stumbling to the finish line. He was bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to even out his breathing. He had pushed himself again today and he felt the telltale signs of nausea curl in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t beaten last week’s record yet. He makes a move for one more lap, but a voice stops him. Usually it was Price who stopped him before he pushed himself too far and ended up in medical. The Captain would appear seemingly out of nowhere, cigar in one hand and Gaz’s shoulder in the other.

‘That’s enough for today, Sergeant.’ He would say, and silence any words of complaint or refusal from Gaz before they were even spoken, ‘That’s an order, Kyle.’

“Whoa there, not the best idea to push yerself so hard. You’ll make yerself sick ya daft tit.” 

Either Price had adopted a Scottish accent in some deranged form of honouring their lost Sergeant, or Gaz had begun hallucinating from overexerting himself. It was likely the latter. He didn’t want to think of Price hiding a mohawk underneath his hat. A hand meets his shoulder and his own slaps over the top of it on instinct. Looking up, he squints as his eyes adjust to the sunlight– begin to focus on familiar features in front of him. Grinning familiar features. 

“Oh, you’re a bloody bastard.” He said, still regaining his breath from his laps. He knows that he hasn’t gone crazy– not yet, anyhow. He knows that the hand on his shoulder is real– that the man in front of him isn’t a figment of his imagination. His other hand claps Soap’s shoulder, gripping hard as he struggles to keep himself together. “You’re a bloody bastard, you know that?”

If Soap heard the crack in his voice, he’s kind enough not to mention it.

“I’ve been told. I only came back ‘cause you owed me twenty quid.”

“Last time I checked it was only fifteen.” Gaz raised an eyebrow, tears in his eyes but a smile on his face as they both fell into a similar routine as if Soap had never left. 

“Interest fee.” Soap quipped back, clapping Gaz on the back and bringing him into a tight hug. 

“Welcome back, Soap.” They fell into silence, the embrace lasting a little longer than usual.

“... I’m not giving you your twenty quid, by the way. If anything, you owe me twenty quid for the emotional damage.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid!”

- Ghost / words: 1215

Ghost had withdrawn in himself after Soap’s death– or, more specifically, after the funeral and spreading of his ashes. He hated it. Hated watching as the breeze carried Soap away, spreading him across the Scottish countryside. It… it had been too final, for him. An end. The end of Johnny. That’s what it had felt like. The end. And he couldn’t fucking take it. 

Price had given Johnny’s dog tags to Ghost a week or so after everything. It was likely an excuse to talk to the Mancunian– to try and coax him out of his room. It had worked, albeit slightly, as it was an effective reminder to Ghost of who he still had left. Cutting Price and Gaz off wasn’t the way to go– and most definitely what Soap wouldn’t have wanted for him. 

It had been around 2 months, 11 days, 13 hours, and 42 minutes since Soap had died. The days had somehow blurred together but dragged in such a way that Ghost was still aware of the time passing in the back of his mind in some tortuous slew. It was a rare day that he had not only left his room, but the base entirely. His therapy sessions had gone from monthly to weekly to even bi-weekly sometimes. Price had forced them on him after the funeral. Ghost only went to get the old man off of his back. The sessions were generally an hour long, maybe a little over if he accidentally overshared. Most of the time he only sat and listened to the psychiatrist talk about different ways to deal with thoughts of depression and other ways to deal with bereavement. It was all a load of shite. Don’t get him wrong, his psychiatrist was a wonderful person– very passionate about their job but Ghost had been so overwhelmed by his grief some days that going to his appointments was just a waste of time, resources and money. Today’s session ended like the rest, a curt and professional goodbye and the arrangement of another session at the same time the following week. Ghost wondered just how many more sessions he could attend before Price stopped forcing him to go. The last time he didn’t, Price had wrangled him into Nikolai’s helicopter and had the Russian personally escort him to and from his appointment. How Soap would have howled with laughter if he had ever bore witness to it.

Price and Gaz were talking. That was the first thing that Ghost noticed when he walked past the common room. Whilst that wasn’t uncommon in the slightest, what was suspicious was that there was a third voice amongst them– one that Ghost was yet to forget. Likely it was his mind playing tricks on him again, filling the void that Soap had left in an attempt to save himself from the pain but still managing to gouge more wounds into his heart. Despite the apprehension, he was already opening the door before his brain could even comprehend it. 

“Hey, Lt.” Soap said, turning around to face Ghost when he entered and smiling like he wasn’t supposed to be dead and his body spread across some cliff in some backend of scotland. From the way Price and Gaz were looking directly at the sergeant, it was clear that he was no figment of anyone’s imagination.

“Ghost? Ghost!” For the second time in the space of around 12.5 seconds, Ghost’s body was already walking before his brain caught up. He was walking back to his quarters, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. A few seconds later, desperate knocking filled the room. 

“Ghost, lemme explain!” How dare he? How dare Soap come back like this and treat it like none of the 141 had mourned his loss. 

“Simon… Si, please.” 

The mancunian leant against the closed door, struggling to even out his breathing. Silence fell, only broken by the occasional shaky exhale from Simon’s lips. It stretched on for several minutes, maybe even longer– 

“... Did’ja hear about the cheese factory that exploded in France?” What the fuck was Johnny talking abou– “Da-brie was everywhere.”

Simon almost snorted at the absurdity of the situation and the stupidity of the joke. Looks like the time Johnny had spent being dead gave him time to brush up on his jokes. 

“As I get older, I remember all the people I lost along the way. Maybe me budding career as a tour guide wasn’t the right choice.” Damn him. Damn Johnny for coming back like nothing happened and standing outside Simon’s door telling him goddamn puns. Simon still remained silent, not wanting to give Johnny the satisfaction of making him laugh. 

“Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a smile to your face, like when you push them down the stairs.” Alright, Ghost would admit that had wormed a soft snort of amusement. Johnny grew silent for a few seconds and it didn’t take too much brain power to imagine the shit eating grin forming on the sergeant’s face, undoubtedly hearing Simon’s mirth. 

“I was digging in our garden and found a chest full of gold coins. I wanted to run straight home to tell my wife about it. Then I remembered why I was digging in our garden…” Awful. Absolutely awful– Simon had taught him well.

“Do you know the phrase ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’? Wonderful saying, horrible way to find out that you were adopted. I can do this all day, Lt.”

That’s what he was afraid of.

Simon sighed to himself as he stood up and opened the door that currently separated the two soldiers. There was a loud curse and a thump as Johnny fell backwards and into the now open doorway. He must have been leaning on the door and didn’t expect the sudden opening. Serves him right. 

“Hi, Simon.” the scot breathed, staring up at Ghost like he had hung the moon. 

“Where did Joe go after getting lost on a minefield?” Simon found himself saying as he stared down at the man who was supposed to be dead. “Everywhere.”

Johnny’s face scrunched up in disdain and he groaned, throwing an arm over his face and still making no move to get up from his place on the floor. 

“Terrible.”

“And yours were any better?” Simon knelt by the fallen sergeant, head tilted to the side as he regarded him, drinking in the visible parts of his face. The shorter man moved to sit up, hands hesitating just before they touched Simon as if afraid of his reaction.

“They got you t’open the door, didn’t they?” Damnit. Simon held out his hand, palm facing up. Johnny took it as it was and placed his own over the top, intertwining their fingers. 

“Gonna take a lot more than jokes to fix this, Johnny.” 

“I know, Lt. Got a lot to make up for but lemme make a start. Permission to kiss you, sir?” The fact he asked where before he would simply act was enough to melt Simon’s heart– just a little bit. 

“Permission granted, Sergeant.” Forgiveness would be a low thing– but feeling Johnny’s warm and soft lips on his own was definitely a step in the right direction.

- Nikolai / words: 332

The first thing Nikolai does when he finds out Soap is alive is punch him. Not hard enough to break anything or bruise too severely, but hard enough that Soap will be reminded of it for a few days afterwards. 

“That is for making everyone think that you were dead.” It’s still fresh in his mind. Watching as Price fell apart at the seams after they spread Soap’s ‘ashes’, as the guilt ate him up from the inside out. As the ‘what if’s plagued his mind, ruined what little sleep he already didn’t get in the night– and stole his happiness, for a time. Nikolai can remember the week where Price smoked so many cigars that the Captain woke up with a tight chest, wheezing like a man starved of oxygen and clutching onto Nikolai’s shoulder as he gasped and spluttered– only to repeat the process the following day. 

‘I can stop when I need to.’ Price had said to Nikolai, brushing off any concern that the russian had voiced about the almost permanent smoke cloud that formed in Price’s office. 

Nikolai was not stupid– soldiers were lost all of the time in war. But not all soldiers left lasting impressions like Soap had to his Captain and teammates. He had touched the hearts of many with his shining personality and enthusiasm, Nikolai himself included. He had been fond of the Scotsman, even a partner in crime once during a prank that involved several bags of glitter and the helicopter fan blades. 

The scowl on his face morphs into something softer as he watched Soap try and massage the pain away with his hands. He brings Soap into a hug, pressing his forehead against Soap’s newly scarred temple.

“And this is for coming back to us. We all missed you, солнышко (Sunshine).” Despite the gentle words, his grip tightens until it is almost bruising. “Don’t do that again or I will kill you myself.” Soap doesn’t doubt that even for a second. 

Yup definitely gonna rise from my writing hiatus. Will definitely start writing just gonna start brainstorming with my feelings. The hell cod mw3?!

Will write some fanfictions (x reader too) just not smut I don't know how lol.

Me if Price dies :

Me if Gaz dies :

Me if Ghost dies :

Me if Soap dies :

"he asked for no pickles"

MWIII Campaign Thoughts and Reviews

(Played in the recruit difficulty because I suck at FPS games, and I want to explore and spent time in the campaign without dying too much). Leave some thoughts!

⚠️SPOILER ALERT⚠️

So… that was devastating. 

(+) To start things off, Makarov - Boy, holy shit. Yes. YESSS. They didn’t hold back with the new Makarov. He’s a mastermind, he’s a charming fella, he’s a psychopath lol. And the fact that he smiles a lot in this campaign just adds to the creepiness. I might get some side-eye here, but this Mak can go head-to-head with the OG!Mak. He’s always onto something, he’s proven destructive, had the 141 hauling ASS to chase him. I know just one game with rushed development won’t be enough for an iconic character like him, so I’m glad they didn’t kill him.

(-) I absolutely ABHOR, DETEST, LOATH the Open Combat Missions (OCM). It is so very not Call of Duty campaignesque. it doesn’t help anything with the narrative, and if anything, it even took away the narrative for us. The former missions in former games are iconic in their own way because the mission designer put a lot of thought into how the game will be played, the situations we found ourselves in.

But OCM's, we're like... Left to our own devices without any story-driven dialogues.

I think one of the reasons why MWII was so close to everyone's heart was because of the banters between the characters, especially in Alone. Here, because it's literally our choice and our time, it left us with no actual given time to know and love the characters more than we already did. Yes we love the characters, MW19 and MWII did that for us. But in this one? They said "character development is done, mate. Now go to war.”

Then again, is OCM a product and evidence of MWIII’s rushed development? 100% yes. I don’t give a shit if they cover it with “oowh we make OCM so you can play the missions differently each time without repeating the same mission over and over again!”. Let me ask you this, Activision - Have ‘repeating the mission over and over again’ been a problem with us campaign-enjoyers? No! I played the MWII campaign like 5 times, in all difficulty (except realism I still love my life), and I enjoyed it, because the mission designers took a lot of time and thought to it instead of just creating a map, putting a bunch of loadouts scattered around the area and throw us in it. So yes, it’s clear that OCM is a product of rushed development. It sucks the life out of the campaign missions.

(+) Look, I said it before that I will go to the campaign with the lowest expectation possible. I expected Mak to be sub-par, I expected them to play safe with the characters, and BOY WAS I WRONG. Settings aside from the point above where the character feels stuck on the character development (which is a huge minus btw), all the characters have time to shine in their own missions, especially Price because I feel like we play him the most. However, I do also love the fact that the girls get shit done here. Farah and Laswell did their work so beautifully and apparently it was revealed that Laswell will be a MP operator, so that’s cool. 

(+) Ghost being a menacing presence, can stood his ground. Price being level-headed though at the same time unhinged as usual. Gaz being the voice of reason throughout the entire fucking game LMAO. Soap being the brave man he is, the passion and fury is evident throughout the campaign. Farah being badass and dependable as usual. Alex being the main supportive guy to Farah (Faralex is canon at this point argue with a wall). Nikolai being our most reliable get-away guy. And of course, Graves and Shepherd being the fucking goofy ahh duo I actually find interesting. The trial cutscene was such a goofy scene LMAO the fact that they backstabbed each other in the ass is real funny. I side with Graves though. However wrong and unhinged he may be, Graves is just a guy doing his job and did what he’s told to do.

(+) I love the fact that Mak tried to frame Urzikstan to pin the blame on them. It's exactly what the OG!Makarov did but in HD. The Passenger mission is phenomenal and more damn traumatizing if only it was a bit longer and more stretched. There are many more reference to the OG games and I absolutely love it.

Now…

Soap’s Death

Remembering all the MWII missions with Soap... It hits differently now, man. 

(-) I've read a lot of people's arguments about it that the fact that it happened is just for shock value and kind of disappointing. Because let’s be real here, Soap is an SAS who got the name Soap because of how much of a slippery bastard he is. Granted, Mak is an ex-Spetsnaz and can fight with Soap. But how he went down in a goddamn takedown without any chance of fighting is just… it’s not it.

To add to that, the reaction from the boys is just... Underwhelming? Like I get it they're battle-hardened SAS soldiers, but let them show some damn emotions for fuck’s sake. One of the main reason why the OG!Soap’s death is really painful is because of Price’s reaction to it. How he said “NO. NO NO NO SOAP!!” While he shook Soap’s lifeless body in the table. At least let Price kneel to him, straighten his body, touch his vest. Close his eyes, gather Soap’s hand and PUT HIS GUN ON his chest all the while Ghost and Gaz knelt beside them. I do love the fact that they literally went to Scotland to let go of his ashes with Ghost holding the urn though. I cried in this scene. 

And the fact that it happened with the shortest campaign out of all the reboot MW games, it just felt rushed. Yes. It’s completely rushed, there’s no doubt about it. Again, the result of rushed developments.

(+) Now, with that said, I kind of want to shed light on how Soap is literally the youngest guy in the group. He had so much to live for. He's a sunshine in the middle of this gruff emotionally hardened man. He's such a joy to be around. He's brave. He's fresh. The fact that he's got so much to live for adds to the sadness and bitterness, which I actually like.

Sometimes I do kind of like those kinds of deaths, where the character is too soon to die,  because it hit so much harder and in a different way than the OG! one. We got to see the OG!Soap went from when he was an FNG, turn to a captain, to a man of fortitude that  earned Price's honor and sacrificed himself to protect Price. We saw how he developed and changed. We saw his entire career with us throughout all the OG!MW trilogy.

Reboot!Soap's story barely even started, and the fact that he's still so young, imagining how he'd be one hell of an officer, how he'd lead his team in the future. 

OG!Soap’s death is sad because all the times and memories we’ve been through with him, but Reboot!Soap’s death is equally sad for the times we could’ve gone through with him.

I want to say this though, some people said that Soap's death is sudden, but I wouldn't agree with that. I think the telltales are all there.

In the helicopter scene after Price and Soap caught him in Verdansk, Mak literally SAID HIS FULL NAME. That is a literal pinpoint death sentence from Makarov. And how emotional Soap’s reaction is compared to the other boys when the airport blew up. The signs are literally all there! I saw it coming actually. 

So is Soap’s death rushed? Yes. Could it have been executed better? Is it for shock value? Yes. But is it as sad? Yes. Honestly, I blame the rushed development and due dates for this. Activision is a cash grabber who wanted a yearly release so they can catch more money. I fucking bet my ass that initially they didn’t want to kill Soap, but it’s like a last-minute decision to make this game actually look like it’s worth 70 dollars. 

WHAT'S NEXT?

Now. Shepherd is positively fucken dead. Price is now an actual criminal and a fugitive. He just killed a 4-star US Marines general in his own office. Price is entering his insane and unhinged era. I do wonder if he'll go even more unhinged than this.

The story will undoubtedly continue in the MP seasons (although probably only 2 seasons that mattered because it'll also undoubtedly be filled with skins and collabs and shit). I think it will also focus more on transitioning to the next CoD games, which will be Black Ops (It is confirmed that for the 2024 and 2025 CoD, it will be Black Ops games).

We're talking future here, so if there's going to be a CoD MWIV, It might be possible that this is the game where we'll finally defeat Makarov while the 141 copes with losing Soap. I do wonder if Price will become too unhinged and will get rid of everything on his way to kill Mak. will become too much for Gaz, and Gaz would do something against Price's command or wish - and Ghost will have to choose a side. Now that's the kind of drama I want to see.

What do I score this campaign, what do I score this campaign... The story is actually good, but because the development is evidently rushed, the packaging feels a bit hollow. It's a 7.5/10 for me!

---

Wait you know what

We get to pet a dog named Riley. 10/10, Game of The Fucking Year.

Reboot!Logan/Hesh (?) 👀

---

So there it goes! If you've read this far I love you and Activision will pay for my therapy (ʘ ͜ʖ ʘ)

I remembered that some people have early campaign access. (others due to advanced timezones like mine, it's already Nov 2 here.)

Istg if any of them dies (or not) or just maybe how emotional damage the campaign is.

Y'all see me coming out of my writing hiatus and will make fanfic for each and every one of them.

Me if Price dies :

Me if Gaz dies :

Me if Ghost dies :

Me if Soap dies :

HAI! i rlly like your platonic 141 fics and I'm wondering if we could get some more dad price and/or brother gaz sleepy cuddles? :3

stretched too thin — python333

— — — —

synopsis gaz notices you overworking yourself one night and decides to step in before you end up pulling an all-nighter.

relationships platonic!gaz & gn!reader.

characters gaz.

word count 2.05k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of pet names [love, darling], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note oh my god im so sorry i disappeared for like. a month. ill try my best to not be gone for more than a week at a time, but with all of my schoolwork and just over all stress ive been experiencing lately, i dont know if ill be able to get fics out every week :< ill try my best though! please accept this fic as an apology—its another big bro gaz one!! special shoutout to everyone else who has an older sibling thats very distant with them, you and me are in the same boat fr!! also, last thing—im thinking about making a discord server where i announce when fics are being written and published and stuff, but i dunno if yall would join or anything, so if u would pls lmk!!

You haven’t left your office in five hours. 

Recently—just about two days ago—you finished up an assignment fairly quickly and, as a result, had to write a detailed report of said assignment. It went over the mission you’d gone on, and listed off every major detail you could think of, though because you just can’t give yourself a break you were constantly thinking of other details you might’ve missed even though there was little chance you’d missed anything.

The mission wasn’t anything too important, honestly. It was originally going to be a week-long camp-out reconnaissance by an enemy task force’s base, obtaining information on their schedule and what they did throughout the day and whatnot. However, only a day into the mission, the small squad of soldiers that had accompanied you saw another small military group observing the same group you’d been observing.

So, naturally, you observed them as well. Aren’t you just the best multi-tasker?

The task force eventually found out about the other group, just a day later, while your squad was still in the clear to continue your observations. So, your mission had quickly come to a close—but, because of the circumstances under which the mission had come to a close, you were required to write an extremely detailed report on the other group and the group you’d been observing.

It would be an understatement to say you were tired. You’re exhausted.

Between the non-stop writing, the coffee sitting on your desk that’s been microwaved five times and has been refilled thrice, and the uncomfortable chair you’ve sat in that you have yet to replace, you’re extremely exhausted. Your movements are sluggish, your fingers aren’t as swift on the keyboard of your computer as they usually are, and worst of all—you still have more to write. 

Your eyes stung and felt dry, your hands felt like they were going to stop working completely at any moment, and you were overall just exhausted. 

You look over at the clock on your desk, and it reads 02:28 AM, indicating that you would only have about four hours to sleep if you went to bed now. I’m too far into this report to stop now, You tell yourself, sighing as you blink slowly at your computer screen, If only my vision didn’t keep getting blurry… 

Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, and for a second you think you’re hallucinating until the knock sounds once more. 

Reluctantly, with a voice raspy from not using it almost all day, you call out, “Come in!” 

Your voice is softer and quieter than you’d like it to be, but it doesn’t matter too much to you at this moment—at least, not in your foggy mind that still begs you for sleep, even when you have far more of your report to finish. 

The door opens with a creak, and in walks Gaz. 

“Sarg,” He greets you, not bothering to close the door behind him as he walks up to your desk, “Pleasure to see you for the first time in, what… three days?” 

“Two days and eighteen hours,” You correct him, taking a moment to crack your stiff knuckles, not taking your eyes off of your monitor, “And you know you don’t have to call me ‘sarg’ or ‘sergeant’ or anything. We’re the same rank.” 

Gaz promptly ignores you, “Right, well, anything over a day is way too long for me to go without seeing you. Why’re you all cooped up in here on your computer?”

“‘Cause I need to write a report on my assignment,” You briefly explain, before lightly goading Gaz, “Not all of us need a shit ton of attention every day like you do.” 

“Ehh,” Gaz theatrically makes a thinking face, before shrugging, “Not sure what you mean by ‘us’, but alright.” 

“By ‘us’, I mean everyone but you.” 

“Surely that doesn’t include you, right?” 

“It does.” 

Gaz gasps quietly at your reply, before dramatically responding, “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“I absolutely can,” You hum, finally taking your eyes off of your computer screen to look up at Gaz, “Is it so hard for you to believe that I don’t need to talk to you every waking hour?” 

“It is, actually,” Gaz scoffs, “Because I know that you do need to talk to me every waking hour.” 

“Uh, no I don’t,” You childishly argue, raising an eyebrow at Gaz.

“Uh, yes you do,” Gaz immaturely argues back, crossing his arms, “Look me in the eyes and tell me that the past two days and eighteen hours haven’t been shit because I haven’t given you any attention.”

You open your mouth to form a response but quickly close it, realizing that yeah, actually, I kind of do crave his attention. 

Fuck.

“You’re not the only person that gives me attention,” You point out, hoping to find some way to change the subject.

“Sure, but you like the attention I give you the most,” Gaz hums, leaning forward to rest his crossed arms on your desk opposite of where you sit.

“You don’t know that.”

“Then tell me that I’m wrong,” Gaz challenges you.

You narrow your eyes at him, glaring at him for a moment before sighing, “You suck.”

“Maybe I suck, but you look like you haven’t slept for the past week,” Gaz points out, “You look exhausted, by the way. And dehydrated. Actually, you just look like the human embodiment of a headache.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“I mean that in the most loving, non-offensive way possible.”

“You come into my office, accuse me of needing attention from you, then you insult me by calling me the human version of a headache?”

“It wasn’t an insult!” Gaz raises his hands in surrender, before sighing, “I’m being serious. You look dead, [c/n]. You need sleep.” 

“What I need is to finish this report,” You huff out, beginning to turn your attention back to your computer, before Gaz’s hand is quickly placed on your chin and forces you to look back at him. 

“No, what you need is some rest,” Gaz argues, more serious this time, taking his hand off of your chin—something you shouldn’t miss nearly as much as you do, the warmth of his hand fading far too quickly from your face—and bringing it back to rest on the desk. 

“Maybe you need rest, Gaz.”

“Sure I do,” He shrugs, “But I’m only going to sleep if you do.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Really? You’re pulling that card?”

“I am.” 

You stare at him for a moment, mentally weighing your options, before sighing and bringing your elbows up to the table so that you can place your forehead in your hands.

On one hand, if you stay in your office you can finish up your report before four and then go to sleep, and hope that you magically feel active even with just an hour or two of sleep in the morning. On the other hand, if you go to sleep now, so does Gaz, and then you both get more than just two hours of sleep. 

After another moment of consideration, you huff out a frustrated breath and mutter, “Fine.” 

Gaz smiles down at you and walks around your desk to your side of it, holding out a hand for you to grab to help yourself up from your chair and using his free hand to save your report and power off your monitor. 

You take his hand and stand up, your legs a little weak and balance iffy from sitting down for so long, but within the next few minutes you’re sure you’ll be able to properly walk. You let go of his hand once you’re positive you won’t fall over, and once he sees that you’re able to walk, Gaz silently walks towards the door of your office. Just as quietly, you follow him. 

He turns off the lights for you and lets you walk out of the office first, locking the door from the inside and closing it once you’re out. Once he’s done, he takes the lead again and you follow him down to his sleeping quarters. It’s not too long of a walk there, only two minutes at most.

Once you’re there, Gaz opens the door and lets you walk in first. Once you’re inside and Gaz has closed the door, you shrug off your camouflage patterned jacket and toe off your already loosened tan boots, leaving you in just your camouflage cargo pants and army green undershirt.

You look down at your pants with a frown, knowing from experience that sleeping in them was incredibly uncomfortable and left you regretting your whole existence the morning after, but before you could even look over at Gaz to tell him of your situation, you felt something being thrown at you. 

You immediately turn your attention to the item that had been hurled at you—the item in question being a pair of gray sweatpants, some that would probably be a little bit looser than you’d prefer on your figure—and then look over at Gaz with a questioning look. 

“Figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in that,” Gaz shrugs, nodding to your cargo pants in response to your nonverbal confusion. 

You hum in appreciation, not wanting to talk too much at the moment, instead waiting for Gaz to look away before slipping off your pants and replacing them with the sweatpants Gaz had thrown at you. The fit isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought they’d be—they’re loose and hang low on your hips, just like you thought they would, of course, but they don’t feel nearly as weird as you thought they would.

Once you’ve tightened the strings on the waist of the pants, you get into Gaz’s bed, pulling the covers up and over yourself. Gaz quickly settles into the bed next to you, quickly getting himself comfortable under the sheets, and pulling the covers up and over his shoulders in one swift movement.

He gets closer to you, so close that his chest presses against your back and you can feel the tip of his nose ghosting over the top of your head. He wraps one arm over your body to pull you impossibly closer to him, and his other arm snakes underneath the side of your body so that both of his arms are wrapped around you.

He hums contently and his thumb rubs small circles into your clothed stomach, the action—despite being small—causing your stomach to warm up almost immediately. 

“Comfortable, darling?” Gaz asks quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“Very,” You mumble back, trying to subtly lean your head back against Gaz in hopes of getting at least one more kiss. Noticing your efforts, he huffs out a small laugh and presses another gentle kiss right at the edge of your hairline before pressing one last one to your forehead. 

Even with the comforting atmosphere, you can’t find it within yourself to fully relax, your body still tense and stiff underneath the blanket. Gaz, just like he did with your “subtle” movements, notices and frowns. 

“Just sleep,” Gaz tiredly mumbles into the top of your head, “You have to get up in three hours. The sooner you sleep, the more sleep you get.” 

You don’t respond, instead simply sighing and forcing your eyes closed. You do have to admit, it’s nice being able to actually close your eyes for something other than blinking, and closing your eyes for longer than half a second has made you realize that they were even drier than you thought they were. 

Exhausted and ready to finally sleep, you eventually get to a point where you no longer need to force your eyes shut, and as a result, your whole body relaxes for the first time in almost six hours. 

“G’night, love,” Gaz murmurs, feeling your body relax next to his. You hum in acknowledgment of his words, not finding the energy within yourself to properly respond, instead finding yourself drifting off into a deep sleep. 

And if four hours later, Gaz wakes up and simply lies there, not waking you and instead letting you get some more sleep despite you having to be up soon, nobody has to know.

Call of Duty Modern Warfare Overview

Are you new to Call of Duty? Don't know where to start? I've got some videos for you! Here's a great way to get to know the games so far...

Modern Warfare is a reboot of the original Modern Warfare series from the 2000's. Many of the characters are re-designed, but there's quite a few that are introduced for the first time as well. Here's a video on the original series:

In addition, Call of Duty released a comic book about the original Ghost. It can be found here (TW for child abuse, torture, gore, psychological abuse, drug abuse, and more. Please read at your discretion)

On to the reboots!

@oleworldblues made a great guide that you can find here, (Which includes the SpecOps missions and the Atomgrad missions) but here's some other videos as well

This goes over the two campaign stories thus far (MW2019 and MW2022) and provides a great but detailed summary of the gameplay.

However, if you want to watch the actual games, which I highly recommend, you can find MW2019 here and MW2022 here. Honestly, they're really enjoyable because of the absolutely fantastic quality, and the no damage in particular makes for a very realistic gameplay. They also have no commentary, just pure gameplay

Warzone

Warzone is the multiplayer PvP version of Call of Duty where the 141 and their allies (Known as SpecGru) face off against their rival PMC KorTac. While not directly part of the campaign, the season clips are connected to the main storyline. Here's a great video with all of the warzone seas clips:

(Not included in the above- Shadow siege event)

Finally: The upcoming game. MWIII

There's been a number of trailer releases thus far:

Makarov reveal: Where we are introduced to the main villain of the game

Teaser Trailer: What we can expect to see in the upcoming game

Gameplay trailer: Footage of actual gameplay

Bonus: Call of Duty Zombies, which will be an addendum to the game and not part of the campaign

Finally: Here's the Call of Duty wiki, which is a great place for general questions about characters, but should not be taken for pure canon as there is sometimes inaccurate information included.

This is not an exhaustive list of everything, but I hope this is helpful in introducing folks to the canon events thus far. For future updates follow the Call of Duty social media on Youtube

Welcome to the fandom, and welcome back for those returning! See you in MWIII!

A message to the writers of the fandom from Javi 💜

Soft launching my art and writing blog.

I'm too impatient and I want to post it on Tumblr now lol.

Halllo here's my first digital sketch on the COD MW 2019 cast. Down the rabbit hole on creating CoD content, here I come.

It's been a long time since I've drawn anything. Not gonna lie, this is my first time drawing seriously on digital arts since my degree is more on traditional arts.

Thanks to my sibling's PC he brought Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2019 back when it was pandemic and me curious little thing wanted to play it and loved it ever since especially with Gaz and Price.

Apologies I'm not used to drawing men and I'm still rusty af.

*Now contemplating if I should post this on my Ig art acc though.*

Back from the dead I was operated on from my chest (got infection how shameful of me) and just got recovered for at least 2 months lol. Sorry if I ghosted y'all (if any of you are still active and might have stumbled upon this post).

Gonna start writing fanfiction again and will soon share some fanarts.

I'm on the cod fixation era and will definitely have more content on my side blog.

Hiiii I'm AiCeeArts [I•see(or sea)•arts] you can call me Ai,Cee, or whatever.

My main blog is actually eicee.

I've created this side blog for compilation of my writings and especially my artworks. Hopefully it won't be as or more chaotic with my main blog lol.

Recently graduated as an arts student (miracle that I've passed) but due to medical reasons after graduation I was inactive for months.

Looking forward to whatever is to come!

Never ever be normal about fictional characters but please GOD be normal about the people who play them, I am begging you

This is just sad but it also has feels with soo many levels 😭

I really eat for platonic fics

Believe {Father John Price & Reader} [Angst, verbal Fight]

You loved your Dad. You really did. You may not know him, but you knew he was a good man, a soldier. But you don't remember a time where he was really there for you. One day, he sits at the table with you, asking you questions and all you can think of, is why?

A/N: I absolutely didn't base this off of a c.ai Bot I talked with. Absolutely not. Now cry like I have.

TW: yelling, family argument, ilugky crying, fighting, discussions about absent father, exactly that father trying his best, people saying things they don't mean or want to say, !!NO ABUSE!!

You had come home from college, when you already saw the strange truck in the driveway. It took a few minutes before you remembered it was his truck. You father was back. You weren't bothered, but it also didn't spark any real type of joy in you. Your keys jingling, you opened the front door, kicked off your shoes, threw your backpack next to them and looked for you mother to say hello.

You mother was in the living room, lounging on the couch, a thick arm around her shoulder, as you could see your father's head buried in her hair, slowly scratching his scalp. "Hey Mom." She didn't perk up like usually, her eyes only scanning you drowsily. It was kind off cute. She smiled, greeting you back softly, her voice a bit cracked. She had cried, but you didn't bother. Of course she did. "Hey John." You smiled at your father as well, even if it was a tad more blank than the one given to your mother. He noticed, if course he did.

Dinner was already done, so stalking into teh kitchen to serve yourself some food, there were a bunch of small candies strewn on the table. You recognized them. The tiny pinkish Bonbons wrapped in yellow, blue and green paper, a fancy font slapped onto it displaying it's name. You had eaten these a bunch when you were little. But you hadn't for about 10 years at that point. You sighed. It was a cute gesture, so you stuffed them in your pocket. One of your friends would eat them, it would be okay.

Finishing your dinner and putting away the plates, John accompanied you in the kitchen. "Hey, Mouse. How was school?" "Good." An awkward silence settled into the room. "Anything special happened?" "No." Another period of silence as he sat down at the table, in front of where you had been sitting. "I see you took the candy?" "I'll give it to a friend. I don't like them." He looked a bit confused. "I thought you liked them? You always lived them as a child." You sighed, taking your seat. "Exactly. I was a child. I don't like them anymore, too sugary sweet." You didn't know what he thought, not being able to read him like your mother.

"What uh... What have you been up to while I'm gone?" "Studying. I have a Job to earn some pocket money. Got new friends." "Are you dating anyone?" You shook your head. "Not interested right now. Maybe some day." He smiled. "That's good. Wanting to focus on your studies first." "I want to be there for Mom, that's all. If I get a partner, paired with the Job and my studies, I won't be able to be there for her. Don't want her to basically loose her only other family member." Your words struck John, his gaze flickering to your Mom still lounging on the couch.

"I-" he paused and sighed, scratching his neck. "I know I wasn't always there. But I have a few months off now, so we could... We could do something together. If you want." You shrugged. "Sure. Anything specific?" "I hoped you might have some suggestions." You chuckled. Of course. "Well. What do you like to do?" He pondered. He actually didn't really know. He usually stayed home, doing something fun like going to theme parks or taking the kids to teh ice cream parlour down the street. "I don't mind as long as we do something together. I really missed you two and we could do something together, I thought. As a family."

"That's sweet, John." You simply added. "Let Mom plan something, she's better at it than I am." Another round of silence brewed over them. "You stopped calling me Dad." Price stated, matter of factly and you flinched. You tried to avoid the subject. "Yeah." You paused. How would you let him know without sounding harsh? "I don't think it's right someone you don't know your father. It shouldn't be that way." Your words stung. They stung to actually admit, but they stung more to be heard by your father. You loved him, you did. But you just weren't sure if he really was your father. Biologically, yes. But he had never been there for you, or your Mom.

"I'm... Sorry. I'll try to make it up." "It's okay, you don't need to. You already lost my entire childhood, I don't think a few years more will matter." You mumbled, glancing at the table. You really didn't want to look at him right now. You were being honest, you remembered him always preaching to be honest to him and his Mom, so that they could always be honest with you. So you did just that. What would it do to hide your hurt? You could feel the way he had to digest your words. "I know I wasn't there in your life. But I would like to be. Please, Mouse. Let us.. talk. Tell me what you like, what you want, I'll get it."

You huffed. "I don't want anything money can buy. I want a father. A real one." Your words sounded harsher than they should have, tone sharp and accusatory. "Sorry, that's not... I just meant I don't need anything from you. Thank you though." He stared at you, you could feel your body heating up at his stare. Or was that your feeling of guilt making you feel this way? "I understand." was the last words spoken in the small room for a while. "I know I was absent. I promise you, I missed you all the time. I just wanted to hold you, see you grow up... I hated coming here with you having already achieved so many milestones. Milestones I couldn't witness, a baby that was mine, that I didn't raise sits in front of me as an adult. I know it's not supposed to be this way, and I really want to make it up. To get to know you. Please."

Your breath was shaky, as you looked out the window to the garden, tears starting to burn in your eyes. "I needed a father. Not a soldier that was never here." You muttered, you voice waivering slightly. "I know." He leaned forwards, putting his hands on yours. You pulled it backwards instinctively, regretting the action on the spot, as you saw his hand retract back, hesitantly, he spoke again: "I know it hurts." "Do you? Do you really?!" You felt your patience snap, something in you just telling you to scream at him, another part begging you not to, he was a poor man working his job and trying his best for you, he couldn't do anything against the fact that his best just wasn't enough. Startled, his eyes finally found yours, fury in your eyes as you stood up.

"Because I know how much it hurt watching you leave! Every single time, seeing your back as you got into the truck and disappeared for months! Do you know how it broke Mom?! I took care of her, when she was depressed, not being able to get out of bed because the thought struck her that you could be dead!" Your mother shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed because of the commotion. Your voice was louder, even if you weren't shouting, it was simply slightly raised by your anger. "When she didn't know how to fix something in the house. I tried my best to look it up and do it myself! I did the heavy lifting, I was that one kid in school who only ever had her mother! They called her a whore, you know that?! I protected Mom, I protected myself! Because you weren't there, like you should have been!"

He seemed surprised, before his body slumped into itself. Exhaustion clear on his features. You felt pity, but you also felt you weren't done. You wanted to be down so bad. Why did everyone else get what they wanted but not you? "I'm sorry, I wish I could go back, do it all again, make different choices, but I can't. And I hope we can go forward together, Mouse. I don't want to loose you becaus eif my mistakes, little one. I know my Job isn't an excuse to not be there for you and your Mom, I..." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "I tried to protect you by keeping threats out of this country, people away from weapons they shouldn't have, and yet I failed to realise it was too far away for you. And I... I hope you can forgive me like your mother can, e-" "No, I can't!" You screamed, interrupting your father in his speech.

"I can't and I won't! How can I forgive a man I don't know?!" You started to cry, the sadness and disappointment mixing with you anger and simply becoming too much, as tears fell down your face and sobs and whines accompanied you. "The only one in this house that knows you is she!" Pointing towards your mother, Price didn't even need to follow you finger, the only other person in this house being her. "I know. I know. I want to get to know you, so please, calm down, sit, let us talk about ourselves. Please. I just want to be a father for you." "WELL YOU WON'T BE!" your mother gasped, John startled and you stopped in your track, knowing you went too far. You didn't even mean to say it, it just slipped out.

Grabbing a tissue, you pushed her stunned mother aside, making your way up the stairs to your room, as your crying became more violent. You heard your father scramble up in his seat as you were halfway up the stairs, his heavy feet booming on the floorboard, as he reached you when you were at the top of the stairs. "Please, Honey. I know it's a lot, but I really want to know you, I want you to know me, let us start a new beginning, please! I'll be there for you!" You turned towards him. "Until you have to leave again. I know your Job still comes first, John." "I won't let you down, I promise! I'll.. I'll find a way!" You huffed, your eyes gazing upwards to the ceiling, trying to hold back even more tears, even though they dropped anyways. "I know you won't."

"They will call and you will leave, and then we won't hear anything form you until you suddenly show back up. And then we'll have to talk to each other again! That's not how it's supposed to be! That's now how it should be! You should be here for me, and I know this is selfish and rude and mean, but I just wanted a normal family!" John shook, you could see tears forming in his eyes, as he realized the pain he actually caused you. "I'm sorry I failed you." "It's okay." Your voice sounded oddly at peace then. "I stopped believing in you a long time ago." You entered your room, locking it, as you pushed your back to the door, falling to the ground. For a few seconds you could controll yourself, before your son's, cries, whails and whimpers were unconfined escaping your mouth. You just wanted to scream, punch, run. You loved him. He was your father, so why did it hurt this much?

John, on the other hand. Stood frozen, tears catching in his muttonchops, as he stared at your closed door, posters decorating it he had never seen before, drawings and pictures of friends he didn't know. He had gone wrong so many times, why, oh why didn't he realize it sooner?

First we had platonic cuddles with Simon

Now we need platonic cuddles with price !!

We need the dad cuddles !!!

Please

It shall be done @itsscromp 😌 hope it's to your liking.

Also! Callsign poll going up tomorrow at 10AM MT.

Platonic cuddles with Captain Price

Price is hesitant to cuddles in the way he's very busy and it's his job to protect you all. If something happens he takes the blow so he's stressed out a lot.

Not only does he not feel like he can take a proper break, but cuddles or affection in general would mean being vulnerable and over the years it's something he's started to lose grasp on.

It wouldn't feel appropriate, just as much as going up to Simon or you sergeants and asking for touch. Price gives touch, he leads, he shows affection. He gives the occasional gratitude and pat on the back, making sure his soldiers are alive and breathing.

Sometimes those small moments of affection are grounding for him. Touching Simon on the shoulder after a mission and seeing their eyes meet relaxes his mind that Simon is very much still alive. Same goes for the rest of you.

So long story short he can give affection but does not ever ask for it in return. Ever. He may want it, but he feels it's not his place among many other things.

Then you came along. And unlike others, you saw. You heard and you saw. You'd hear the exhaustion dwindling on the edge of his voice, his head full and his hands busy with paperwork and whatever else needed to be handed in before he got his ass kicked.

You saw how his shoulders would bow slightly when the invisible weight on his shoulders pushed down a little too much.

Of course you initiate contact. And he forgot just how much he misses it. Wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him until his worries too are drowned out...

You knocked on the door to his office, coming in to see him finishing up a briefing on one of your last missions. You'd not been feeling good all day so Price had given you the day to rest.

"Y/n, what are you doing up??"

You sniffled, tired puffy eyes looking down when you came over. "I can't sleep..." You whisper.

"Did you get more medication from Ghost?"

You nod, rubbing your sore eyes again. Price sighed and stopped his paperwork, standing and attempting to help you. "How about we get you to bed and I'll make you some tea. Clear up those sinuses a bit."

But before he can move you come forward, wrapping your arms weakly around him and lean into his body. You listen to the sounds of his heart over the panting breaths of your fever.

Price hums, rubbing your back and runs his hand down the back of your head. "It's ok."

His strong arms wrap around you, firm hands grounding you to him. Making you feel safe, and content. Your head spins from the fever, giving you little strength to move from the warm, soft spot that is Price's chest.

"Can I get you some soup? Have you eaten much today?"

You hum, lazily shaking your head.

"Alright. We'll get you something to eat then. No use fighting this on an empty stomach hey?"

He would send you away back to your room, but Price was a strong man and very rarely got sick. So he wasn't concerned with that.

He slid his hands under your arms and hoisted you up. Doesn't matter your height or size, he's got you. He picks you up in his arms, feeling you curl a little closer and brings you back to your room.

"There, gonna lay you down. Nice and slow." Price whispers, slipping you back under the covers. You grumble, grabbing onto him and pull on his shirt. He softly shushes you, but doesn't hesitate for very long.

Only until you fell asleep he said to himself...

Jokes on him, Price falls asleep with you. The exhaustion and the stress slowly melts away for a time and he rests.

It's a curious thing. You are. Sometimes you won't even be stressed, but you can see Price is stressed.

If you've had a long day you will occasionally seek him out. You know he's busy and he's got many other things on his mind so you aren't always expecting him to give up his utmost attention for you.

Until he does. Somewhere along the way Price relaxes when he sees you. He invites you all on leave back to his home and that's when he gets a moment to relax and that father figure comes out.

Especially when on leave, he remembers that you are family and he cherishes every moment with you. Simple touches on the shoulder turn into wrapping his arm around them and pulling you against him for a short hug.

But still, when he needs a break Price doesn't come to find you. He doesn't come to find anyone. He's the captain and therefore needs to sort his own shit out himself. Getting done in with paperwork and organizing recruits and requests and all that bullcrap.

Until you stop him. Like the safety roadblock before he hits a deadend.

You knock on the door to his office, hearing him call you in before stepping inside.

"Y/n, what can I do for you kiddo?"

"I just wanted to check on you. You've been in here a while.. and you didn't have much to eat at lunch today."

"I'm alright. Just filling this out and I'll be done." You could tell it was a lie by the way he looked away from you and back down to his paperwork to avoid eye contact.

You closed the door and stepped further inside.

"Anything you needed other than checking up on me??"

You walk over and grab his pen from his hand, shoving it in your pocket.

"Sergeant-!?"

"Come on Price. Take a break."

"Y/n I have stuff to do. Hand me the pen."

You shake your head and grab his hand, attempting to pull him from his chair... Which... Doesn't work. At all.

"Y/n." Price warns. "Please hand me the pen."

"how about I give it back after you take a break. Even ten minutes. Just please take a break." You gave him the most darndest puppy eyes you had and he sighed. How... How could he say no to that??

So he shook your hand off and stood. "Fine. Ten minutes."

You nod and the two of you head to the common room. He sits down on the couch to relax for a moment and you snuggle up next to him. He doesn't complain, wrapping an arm around you as you rest your head on his chest.

"Ten minutes..." Price whispered, already feeling his eyelids growing heavy. "Just... Ten minutes..." And just like that his eyes closed, leaning back against you. You smile softly, pulling off his hat and letting him rest.

"Sleep well Price." You whisper.

Yes, Price may be your captain. But he's only human and has his limits. And you're there when he needs you. Even if he's a little stubborn at first, that's ok.

Price is there for you as well, starting to grow closer and give you that affection. Hugs, cuddles and whatever else you need.

When in the safety of the base, you can break down those walls of captain and sergeant to be father and child. It was special.

😊😊😊

I effing love platonic fics 😭🥹

Legacy

I have to do everything myself. /nm

ship: Captain Price x filo!141!reader

summary: running away from your birth family and then using a new name to enlist in the military came back to haunt you… of course it does.

a/n: I awakened my daddy issues and create a little something for the platonic dad Price lovers of the fandom.

tags: sfw. angst comfort. platonic dad Price. reader is a member of 141. post-mw2 (2022). Price calls reader “kid” but they are an adult (Price is just a dad). John Price being a good dad because look at him he’s literally dad shaped, Filipino words, Price speaking Filipino

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