But Hey I Am Not Like Those "grumby" Peopel Yall If You See Something Funny You Can Share And I Shall

Headcanon that Keegan has horrible migraines but refuses to acknowledge he has them because that makes him weak. He refuses to admit it to anyone when asked but the team can tell and try to help by giving him ibuprofen and water but refuses to listen to.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Stubborn as hell.

Characters: Keegan p. russ, Gn reader.

Notes: Headaches. idk.

The Beginning – The First Signs

Keegan was good at ignoring pain. It was part of the job, part of who he was. A Ghost didn’t stop just because they were uncomfortable.

So, when the first sharp throbs of pain started behind his eyes, he did what he always did—pushed through it.

No complaints, no mention of it.

But the others noticed.

You saw the way Keegan clenched his jaw a little too tight, how his usual sharp movements were just a fraction slower.

Kick caught the way Keegan subtly rubbed his temples when he thought no one was looking.

It was small things. Almost unnoticeable.

But not to them.

“You good?” Merrick asked casually one evening, tossing Keegan a bottle of ibuprofen.

Keegan barely glanced at it before scoffing. “Fine.”

Kick raised a brow. “You sure? You look like you wanna throw up.”

Keegan gave him a flat look before deadpanning, “That’s just my face.”

Keegan exhaled through his nose, standing up and walking off like he hadn’t even heard them.

He wasn’t weak.

And admitting to something as stupid as a migraine? That was weak.

The Middle – Getting Worse

The next few days were hell.

The pain wasn’t just behind his eyes anymore—it was drilling into his skull, a constant, unbearable pounding. Light made it worse, sound made it worse, existing made it worse.

But Keegan still refused to say anything.

His movements were stiffer, his grip on his rifle just a little too tight. His patience, which was already thin on a good day, was damn near nonexistent.

He just it would be gone at any time.

The breaking point came during a training drill.

Keegan was lining up a shot when a sharp, blinding pain lanced through his skull, making him flinch. He missed the target—barely—but that was enough.

But damn he was so professional at hiding them, But that doesn't mean you didn't notice.

No one said anything immediately, but as soon as the drill ended, You called out, “Keegan. A minute?.”

Keegan sighed, already knowing where this was going, but followed you anyway.

The moment you were out of earshot from the others, you turned to face him, expression unreadable.

“How long?”

Keegan feigned ignorance. “How long what?”

You didn’t take the bait.

“The migraines, keegan.”

Keegan tensed slightly before shaking his head. “I don’t get migraines.”

You sighed through his nose, patience running thin. “Keegan—”

“I said I’m fine.” Keegan’s voice was sharp, a little too sharp. He went to turn away, but You caught his arm. Not harshly. Just enough to make him stop.

The room was silent for a long second before You finally spoke again, voice lower this time.

“Being in pain doesn’t make you weak. Ignoring it does.”

Keegan’s jaw tightened. He wanted to argue, wanted to fight the point—but the throbbing in his skull was making it damn near impossible to think straight.

So instead, he just yanked your arm free and walked away.

The End – Finally Giving In

It got worse.

It always got worse.

By the time the next mission rolled around, Keegan was running on fumes. The pain hadn’t stopped, the lack of sleep was making it worse, and he could feel the nausea creeping up every time he moved too fast.

And of course, You noticed.

The mission had barely started when You, without looking away from his rifle, muttered into comms, “Take the ibuprofen.”

Keegan, crouched behind cover, scowled. “Fuck no.”

You exhaled sharply, like You expected that answer. “You’re useless like this. Take the damn meds!.”

Keegan swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. The pain was unbearable now, like his skull was being split in two. His hands weren’t as steady as they should’ve been. His vision was a little too blurry.

And he hated that You were right.

With a frustrated sigh, he dug into his vest pocket, pulling out the bottle You had definitely slipped in there at some point, and dry-swallowed two pills.

Silence on comms for a beat.

Then You simply said, “Good.”

Keegan sighed, adjusting his grip on his rifle. “Still fuckin’ hate you.”

Your voice was unreadable. “Yeah, yeah. Get in position.”

The headache didn’t go away immediately. It never did.

But for the first time in days, it eased.

And Keegan finally admitted to himself—maybe, just maybe—listening wasn’t so bad after all.

But he still don't give a damn fuck XD.

MEMES TIIIIGHHHMMMMAA🗣️🗣️🗣️

It is impossible to a fandom be this broke

literally cod ghosts fandom:

Last scene they are fighting over a digital art.

man legends never die hit haawwdd

So funny like they judged me and then the next day they did the same thing EXACTLY and ITS DISCGUSTING ME??.

They write something with "oh" or just doing that look or the attitude of "uhm chile anyway" like you cool or something?.

I want to give a friendly reminder and a lesson i have learned today!! ༊*·˚

Hey friends, Just a small reminder and something I learned today that I want to share with you:

Never let anyone's judgment shake you—especially when you’re not doing anything wrong. If what you’re doing brings you happiness, whether it’s writing, drawing, loving a character, or just enjoying your own space, then that’s enough. As long as you’re not hurting anyone, you have every right to enjoy what brings you joy.

Don’t let anyone make you feel strange, guilty, or “wrong” for simply being yourself. More often than not, the same people judging you are doing the very things they criticize—sometimes even more so!!.

I realized that today, and honestly, it made me feel sick. I was just vibing, minding my own business, and suddenly felt like I didn’t want to be around certain people anymore.

So please—keep doing what you love, no matter how “cringe” or just them judging you to make themselves look so good in front of you, This is your one life. Live it joyfully, authentically, and on your terms.

Have a nice day <3!!.

OKAY HEAR ME OUT!!

Fem teammate reader who used to call (hesh, kick) by their callsigns now suddenly out of nowhere call them be their real name when they hadn't heard their real name in a while!

even elias call david hesh.

Ok so we don't know kick name so ig im gonna just say "his name"

edit: Fucking crying what did i write😔

Hesh walker

No one calls him David many times. Even Elias, his own father, sticks to "Hesh."

He never minded it. "Hesh" is who he is in the field, a soldier, a Ghost. But somewhere along the way, "David" just… kinda disappeared.

When you suddenly say it, it hits him like a punch to the gut.

It feels personal, real—like you see past the soldier, past the mission.

He doesn’t know what to do with that feeling, but he wants to hear it again.

"David."

Hesh almost didn’t register it at first. It had been so long since he’d heard his own name that it sounded… foreign.

He blinked, turning to you. "What did you just say?"

You kinda scoffed, expression casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I said, ‘David, you good?’"

His chest tightened.

Nobody called him that. Not his team, not his father, not even Logan. Somewhere between training and war, his name had been replaced—Hesh was who he became, and "David" had been left behind.

But now, you’re looking at him like you don’t just see the soldier. Like you see him.

He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly feeling exposed. "Yeah. Just… not used to hearing that."

You smiled, just a little. "Maybe you should hear it more."

His breath hitched.

He didn’t respond, just gave you a look that you couldn't quite place. But later that night, when he was alone, he found himself repeating it under his breath with a smile.

David.

It sounded different coming from you.

And, somehow, he liked it.

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Kick

Nobody uses his real name. His callsign is his identity on the battlefield, and it just stuck.

Even off-duty, he's "Kick." It’s easier, detached—less personal.

But Ofc will remember his family when you said his real name.

When you say his name for the first time, he almost doesn’t react right away because it’s been that long.

He thought you were talking to someone else.

When it clicks, he freezes—not out of discomfort, but because he genuinely forgot what it was like to hear it.

So congratulations you made his feelings mixed of nostalgia and depressions cause you made him miss home already.

It feels raw, real—like you’re reaching into a part of him that he didn’t think was still there.

He doesn’t say much about it, but something in his eyes softens.

The gym was mostly empty that evening—just you and Kick, both unwinding after a long day. He was working the punching bag, sharp and focused, sweat dripping down his temple. You were stretching nearby, half-watching, half-lost in thought.

Then, in between his strikes, you casually said, "You good,?" and of course you ended the ask with his name.

His next punch completely missed the bag.

For a second, he just stood there breathing hard from the pressure of the punching, staring at you like you’d spoken in another language.

You raised an eyebrow. "What?"

He blinked. "You called me by my name."

You tilted your head. "Yeah? That’s your name."

He wiped a hand over his face, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Yeah, but—nobody calls me that anymore."

You smirked, tossing him his water bottle. "Guess I’m not ‘nobody’ then."

Kick caught the bottle, taking a long sip, but the smirk on his face was different—smaller, more genuine.

And from that day forward, he found himself waiting to hear it again.

Later, when the team was settled for the night, he caught himself thinking about it again. About how his real name felt different coming from you—less like a relic of the past, and more like something real.

Something worth remembering.

u will be missed lo

Forsaken

Logans POV from the Pit

One - The beginning, or the aftermath?

Just when he thought that everything was alright, that everything was over and done with, that they had got their revenge and justice for all those people that had died, for Ajax - it all crumbled down in one minute

Rorke.

How the fuck did he survive?

He remembered Hesh had smashed his skull with a fire extinguisher, he himself had shot him straight in the chest with a twisting speeding bullet, and Rorke was drowned in water almost an instance after the glass broke. How could he survive?

Maybe this is why Rorke was such a dangerous Ghost. Keyword, was. He was no longer a Ghost, he had lost that title a long time ago when he had betrayed the squad. Elias had told him.

But why did he come back even if he did survive all that? Why was he so intent on taking him? Why not his brother? Why not both of them? Shouldn't Rorke have just run back to whatever hole he came out from and went back into hiding and recover from that hit? So why? Why did he take him with him despite everything?

Did he really remind Rorke that much of Elias?

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────

Two - The Silent Mind

He abruptly coughed dryly as the thoughts in his mind swirled around, lying on his side, choking for those few seconds as he gasped for air.

Eventually, the coughing fit of a storm calmed down - not without leaving tears in his eyes, that is.

He was dehydrated. Thirsty and starving. Weak and frail. His throat felt like it was burning, an irritating tightness being felt as the reflex to cough kept attacking him over and over again like raining bullets. Like a thorn was lodged in his throat, and he couldn't get it out, an endless cycle.

He weakly shifted his head from the side-laying position to look up, eyes bleary. All he could see was that same old metal wire barrier between him and the outside world. It was dark outside, the dark looming trees blocking out any sort of excess moonlight as they silently wavered in the breeze, the scent of all sorts of vegetation and dark mushy wet soil wafting down to him.

It was quiet, too quiet.

Too peaceful. Like the calm after a storm. Expect, he was in the storm still.

He would have used this time to take a moment to collect his thoughts and maybe even get some rest - if only it weren't for the fact that pipes were all up his ass, to clense his bowels, and the dirt ground was crawling with insects. He couldn't lay down even a second without hearing the sounds of those fucking teeny tiny legs scittering and scattering around. It grossed him out, even if those things couldn't exactly hurt him. His limbs were tied, keeping him in place with no way to move around into a better position to avoid the bugs on the ground. Zero proper blood circulation, so he felt tense and tight in place.

He was literally kissing the filt on the floor, even if it was just the side of his face. It smelled like shit, like grime. He really wished he didn't have the sense to smell right now. Didn't it smell worse because one of the Fed's took a piss on him?

Well—not on him, more like near where he was placed. He couldn't remember exactly, though. His mind was fogged up.

He knew this wasn't even the beginning of what he would have to go through. All he knew was that his brother and the entire Ghost Team were coming to save him. They wouldn't leave him behind, now would they? He was sure that they were currently trying to track down his location. Maybe they had already found it and were making a plan to attack - though that was probably a stretch.

He reminded himself to relax, to not get too hopeful or excited. It had only been a couple of months, right? He wasn't too sure as to how much time had passed, but he knew it had a long time judging by the amount of weight and muscle mass he had lost. He knew his hands would be all shaky if he was told to hold a rilfe, hell, even the same pistol he used to shoot Rorke would have the same result.

If he was given a mirror, he knew that he wouldn't even be recognizable...would his brother even recognize him after all this? Would he have changed that much?

He tried not to think about the bad parts too intently. He knew the team was working on his case, after all...

No Ghost ever got left behind.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────

Three - Denial and Acceptance

Hesh?

Is...is that you?

He couldn't believe it

After so long, he had finally been found

Finally. Finally he would be given freedom and be reunited with the only family he had left. He would tell them all about what the Feds had done to him and they'll all help burn the place down, first was getting him to safety

He waited in the hole patiently, his heart pounding in anticipation. He waited, his body language tense and trembling in faint happiness. He knew he had heard his brother's voice, he swore he also heard that same rumble of Keegan's voice in line with Hesh's.

So, where were they?

His head was spinning as his back slumped against the dirt wall after waiting in place for 10 minutes. Did they lose his trail? Did they retreat? Did they get caught? What happened? There was no way they would leave him here.

No.

No, they weren't like that

Had he been dreaming about them?

No, it couldn't be. It felt too vivid, their voices, to be fake. He hadn't lost his sanity that much, right? Right. There was no way...

...then why would the voices suddenly disappear when he paid attention to them and expected something to happen?

He started to repeat the names of all the Ghosts to himself, mumbling silently from his bloody and cracked lips as his hands clasped together in almost a last attempt of desperation - as if he was praying. The memories of everyone he had flooding his mind like a tidal wave, the more notable memories featuring him and Hesh in the past, before they got into any of this, this whole mess. They had wanted to become something, not immediate soliders. But when Hesh joined, thanks to their dad, he also found himself joining, wanting to follow his brother...

If only he knew that he would be ending up here. And probably end up losing his brother, too. He had already lost his dad due to this job. Who else did he have to lose? Hell, even Ajax was dead. So, who was next? Him?

No.

They wouldn't kill him. He knew Rorke wanted him to himself. That man himself said he wasn't going to let him be a Ghost, ever.

Truly, he wanted to die. To kill himself to end all of this. But he didn't. His brother kept him alive. The idea that survival and freedom were still on the plate for him kept him alive. Even if it was slowly starting to slip away from his fingertips.

Qestion was, how long could he maintain this for before Rorke ripped his mind apart from the very stem and took a look inside to see what he could tweak and eliminate.

Could Rorke really make him forget who he was? He didn't want to believe it. But he knew what the Fed's were capable of. If someone like Rorke lost his way, there was no doubt that someone like him would have the same fate.

Question was how long his stubbornness could keep him going. Question was how long he could resist the Federation's advances. Question was how long he could hold on to his identity.

Hopefully, the name "Logan Walker" wouldn't become a former.

Hopefully, it wouldn't become a lost identity.

TW: Sucide photo!!

Hey guys reblogging for yalls safety!! please be aware of them and be safe!!

also see the additional of it in @stargazing-sapphire2

Important PSA

I normally don't do call-out posts, but after everything that went and what I've been told/shown, I can't stay silent about this, especially after it has badly effected close friends of mine.

TRIGGER WARNING UNDER THE CUT: Threats of suicide, self-harm, doxxing and harassment. Please proceed with caution when engaging with this post.

As of this month, this individual has been the subject of drama and unprompted harassment in the Ghosts fandom as well as in both servers (one of which I'm the moderator), as well as on here due to them harassing and acting aggressive on here to those who attempted to reach out to them.

*Urls blacked out for privacy reasons*

They've attempted to get back into the server despite leaving, and if you're here in there, do not understand any circumstance send them a link. This is for safety reasons

•Them sending anonymous hate in response to being blocked

Huge trigger warning for the images down below, as they contain a photo of their self-harm they themselves posted in the server as well as doxxing someone they've had issues with

*Openly bragging about someone who deactivated due to the constant harassment and doxxing*

I have been made aware of his behavior in the other server, where he harassed and insulted a minor over their art, as well as breaking the rules over SFW/NSFW content

Him also openly admitting to being transphobic on his alt account.

Due to the image limit on posts, I will be reblogging additional screenshots through there, and possibly a lot if anything else comes out.

Please block and report this person, and do not engage or talk to them under any circumstance. Please stay safe out there!

I wish i could hibernate like a bear.

Bullshit that cod ghost members would post

Logan walker

David hesh walker

"smash"

Keegan pussy russ

"me and ajax fer fer"

Kick

No idea for merrick, rorke & elias

Ajax