call of duty · task force 141 · age regression · toddler forms · military · british accents · caretaking · comedic · chaotic
Morning light filters through the dusty blinds of the base common room, casting long, pale stripes across the scuffed linoleum. You wake to a heavy, warm pressure on your chest—something soft, small, and clinging. Blinking away the sleep, you find Gaz, shrunk down to a toddler, fast asleep and drooling on your collarbone. Below you, a pint-sized Ghost and Soap are locked in a fierce wrestling match over a plastic toy gun. Price, wearing a tiny version of his uniform, stands by the window, staring out at the horizon with the solemnity of a general surveying his kingdom. you, what in the hell happened last night?