#cod rp

[soapmactavish-blog]

👁️👁️

Why do you look like my Captain?

@bone-lickers-son

I'm uh, the son

[dagger-the-medic]

open rp I CRAVE interaction

tw- blood mention, upset medic

[Dagger was just back from a mission, arriving back to base. He was exhausted, agitated and covered in dried blood that wasn’t his own. If he was honest he was bordering breaking into tears but he just kept walking.]

[He grumbled before he ran right into someone, he couldn’t tell if it was his fault or the other persons fault. When he ran into them he absolutely ate it onto the floor.]

“god damn it—“

[rye-bread-call]

(Open rp)

Rye wasn't much of a drinker. She enjoyed a few glasses now and then but the last thing she needed was to add drinking to her list of bad habits. Hell, she was trying to slow down her smoking now that she had something worth living for. Her pa would be proud if he knew.

But she couldn't deny the enjoyable feeling the golden-hued liquid gave her. Making her cracked aching bones feel lighter, less heavy, and burdened with injuries.

This wasn’t the normal dive bar either, it seemed there was mix of specialist, companies, people. The hum of laughter and glasses clinking. It was nice. A good change from the normal slum of days. A new chance to meet people.

Shout, laughter, whispers bubbled around her. Some woman, likely past her limit, singing some Disney Song.

“It’s a mad house in here…”

But a small smile was on her lips.

Hope this opening is okay still getting use to writing them

[sgt-callsign-shelling]

open (CoD) rp starter

No TWs ↓

It’s hot out, April showers bringing heavy, damp mornings, even without the rainfall.

Shelling is hanging out in one of the base’s garages, or, more accurately- a fairly large warehouse filled with tools and vehicles, hanging around..admiring himself in shiny objects…probably not in the place he’s meant to be right now.

[vladimir-makarov-czar-9-0]

How mad would you be if someone stole your bank card and spent a lot of money? This is definitely not your daughter asking <3

Rori... How many times have I told you to ask? Just ask! I will say yes. I always do. How much did you spend?

[soapandsuds]

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH.

donnae pretend ye dinnae ken who i am.

⁀➷ names soap, but ye already ken tha’. donnae call me johnny if ye favor havin’ a tongue (LT'll come after ye). can call me sergeant or mactavish but donnae overdue it less ye wanna sound like cap or me maw. 

⁀➷ 30 years old an countin’! i ken i got shot by ol’ mak, but contrary to popular belief, i survived. an i got a cool wee scar to prove it, too. donnae worry, though. i'll get my revenge. 

⁀➷ i work for the best force in t’e WORLD. SAS elites, baby. team is so-so. gaz is a pain in the arse (so am i, though), ghost broods too much, and cap complains aboot his fuckin’ knee pain like no tomorrow. wouldnae change a thing, though. tha’s my family. 

THE MUN.

Hi! my name is Kaz, I'm 24 years old, and I go by they/them pronouns!

While I'm brand new to the tumblr roleplay community, i have been roleplaying on instagram, facebook, twitter, and discord for a very long time. But please bear with me as i figure all of this out! 

( main blog: @itsindigo — cod oc )

THE RULES.

• minors do not interact. nothing against the minor community, i’m just personally not comfortable interacting.

• if i see you use any form of AI (writing, drawing, etc) you will be blocked.

• NO homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, etc. allowed. you will be blocked and reported.

• i reserve the right to not answer any asks that make me personally uncomfortable, or would make soap uncomfortable as a character to respond to.

• i’m more of a short form roleplayer, so if you are looking to roleplay with me i might get overwhelmed if the starter/responses nudge into long form/novella! that being said, i do have my moments where i will write a lot, but i tend to prioritize short form as it prevents the possibility of me getting mentally exhausted and just ignoring the thread completely.

• this character is open to: romantic, platonic, and negative connections/plots!

TAGLIST.

• #soap+suds.ica — in character asks

• #soap+suds.icp — in character posts

• #soap+suds.ict — in character texts

• #kaz postings — out of character posts

— anons <3

💤 | 🪽 | 🥈 | 💥 | 🌱 | 💅 | 💫 |

[sergreantmakarova]

It'd been a long mission. They were somewhere in the middle of Russia, fighting through Makarov's forces. Her men were tired, worked to their last living thread and barely hanging on. Morale was at an all time low. They were all numb and the only thing that kept them going was adrenaline, nicotine, and the very little sleep they were able to afford. Cheryl had been typing up reports that evening, face sunken and drained. She'd been in the middle of one to many reckless close calls, nearly hit by airstrikes that were much too close for comfort. Danger close. In recent days, she'd come to notice how risky these calls had been.

Sure, the General had made risky calls before, they all had if they thought it was plausible. But, after his return, he'd been a lot more careless with his calls. It all seemed incredibly rash, and without any discernible reason why, she was worried for him. She was itching to contact him. To talk to him. To make sure he was okay. She did make an effort, if anyone say, they couldn't say she didn't. But, when she was stood right in front of his office, she couldn't bring herself to head in. But then she felt lump in her throat, and the moisture pooling in her eyes. All of a sudden, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't do it. She knew she couldn't. So she sped off. She snuck off, cigarettes in pocket, gun at her side, and lighter held tight in her fist. She thankfully cooled down a little as she reached the clearing, settling down on a stump. It's pleasantly warm for Russia, cooling down as the sun slowly sets. She lights a cigarette, leg bouncing. Then, she sits there casually, as if waiting for someone to appear from the shadows.

@general-shepherd-fucker

These battles were never going to end, or at least that was how it felt to Avora. Her father was either picking a battle or starting one at the drop of a hat, like it was just another ordinary Tuesday. It wasn't—not that she really had any idea what normalcy looked like. Her sense of that had long since been skewed beyond repair. The biggest thorn in his side right now was General Herschel Shepherd—the annoying bag of wrinkles that led the American army into war...

Or in this case, the Shadow Company. Each time, they lost. Their asses handed to them on a silver plate, which was far too reckless for a man of Shepherd's caliber. It left Makarov confused, but he wasn't going to complain when he was winning nearly every single time. Always one step ahead.

Though, there were plenty of losses, yet no time to actually grieve or process any of them. One of Avora's friends died on the field that day, however, she didn't shed a single tear. Not because she didn't want to, but because emotions were a weakness and showing them was worse. A death sentence for someone that was supposed to maintain her composure.

She needed a break. Some time to process what'd happened without being yelled at or confronted, so she left the base on foot. She walked for several miles, until she stumbled upon the rendezvous point where an old friend of hers was supposed to be.

The sunlight scorched the earth, causing Avora to sweat profusely, even though she dressed appropriately for the weather. A short sleeve shirt, shorts and combat boots, but it did little to actually keep her cool. She leaned against the tree, clinging to the shade, until she heard footsteps approaching. In a single fluid motion, she unsheathed her combat knife and rounded the tree quietly, light on her feet. It wasn't until she saw Cheryl that she lowered her guard and sheathed the blade.

"Took you long enough." Avora approached Cheryl and sat down in the grass, at least a foot away from her. "What did you want? I'm not supposed to be here... Not really, but I know you aren't exactly here with permission either."