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Summary
Ghost's face has been wiped off the face of the Earth. Nobody knows what he looks like, and nobody can find any pictures. That's the point of erasing yourself.
Except in Soap's journal, where he's sketched Ghost's face fifty-seven times.
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Laswell tilts her head with a bland smile. “You're here for an exercise.”
John glances toward the window, narrowing an eye at the unfamiliar stonework outside it. “In Toulouse.”
“Yes,” Laswell says, digging now into a different pocket and pulling out an evident passport. “You will need to arrive at the target location by sundown without detection.”
“Detection?” John repeats, glancing between Laswell’s face and the passport with a blink.
“Do you recall Las Almas?” Laswell deflects, firmly, voice determinedly neutral and wearing her most unreadable expression.
John suffers a vague thump of unease beneath his sternum. “Aye.”
“It has been decided that urban navigation is a useful skill to hone and improve on,” Laswell says, gesturing upward with a palm in a spinning motion that seems to be intended to encompass the situation around them. “So as an exercise, we’re doing it in a relatively controlled environment.”
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Summary
How do you tell a dog from an SAS sergeant?
Soap's been trying to think of a punchline, but so far, all he's got is a dog’s gotta shit in the woods and bury it slightly more often than an SAS Sergeant.
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not like before (when I was empty) by Starlight_VLD for DisasterFrog
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
20 Sep 2025
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Summary
Five times Soap found different ways to
torturefall asleep on Ghost, and one time Ghost relaxed enough to return the favor.Series
- Part 12 of COD Fics
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Summary
What they do– it's not love.
If it is love, it's an animal kind of love. Proper domestication takes thousands of years and they're just the first generation of it. They scrounge each other's carcasses and they nip each other's fingers and they call mutualism a relationship because they're still stuck pretending they're human and not a different type of creature entirely.
Soap loves him, because he's meant to, and he's choosing to, and because he's got the strings of fate around his neck like a garrote.
(One of the dogs at the Predmostí burial site, 27-thousand years ago, was found with a bone in its mouth.)
Series
- Part 2 of sit, stay, beg