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What kind of sleeping position does each of the 141 members have? Are they more "Victorian Damsel in Distress" or "A Victorian Child Dying of Scarlet Fever"?

They are all about that tactical bed sharing

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Ghost has an interesting sense of humor

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More animal ghoap doodles from twitter 🐻‍❄️🦝

Booping your boyfriends snoot 🦦🐺

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Shower thoughts about 141's phones…

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Snipers and Gregg's Sausage Rolls

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begging you for soft, in love (maybe retired? 👀) ghoap 🥺🙏 maybe with some cuddling??????

on it 🫡 (‘tis a little bit short/rushed because it’s been too long since i’ve actually written Them i do apologize)

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Retirement, for the most part, has been a series of positives for Simon.

He’s no longer frequently in imminent danger, for one. He also gets to run entirely by his own schedule now, for another. He has the free time to indulge in a hobby if he really wanted to, and for the first time in a long time, Simon finally feels normal. Like a human person and not yet another one of the military’s countless weapons.

But the best and most important thing of all—Simon now gets to have Johnny all to himself.

Which is particularly nice on the mornings Simon’s brain has decided to lag behind in settling into retirement.

Not for the first time in their few years of peace, Simon wakes up disoriented.

A soft bed and warm sunlight filtering through thin curtains are something Simon seldom had in combination for many, many years of his life. That, and being permitted a slow, unhurried wakefulness, because his brain and body are insisting that something is wrong and that he has somewhere to be now.

Except when Simon tries to move, tries to climb out of bed so he can get dressed and report to whatever duties the day has in store for him, he is decidedly trapped in place. There is a solid presence pressed up against the curve of his spine, and the faint scent of an aftershave that isn’t his own.

“If you don’t quit squirmin’, Simon, I’m kicking you out of bed,” a voice roughened by sleep grumbles into the space between Simon’s shoulder blades.

Tension instantly seeps out of Simon’s body. He inhales deep, exhales slow, and takes the time to regain his bearings whilst his heartbeat slows to a more reasonable pace.

“Watch your tone, Sergeant,” Simon sleepily fires back.

“Yes, sir,” drawls Johnny. He snakes his arms tighter around Simon’s torso, sighing contentedly. “Are you making breakfast or am I?”

Simon huffs. “Give us a second to wake up first, yeah?”

Inevitably, a second turns into a few minutes, and a few minutes turns into an hour, but it isn’t like either of them have places to be—despite what Simon’s instincts insist. The bed is warm and Johnny’s sturdy as ever, reassuring as ever, so sue him for losing track of the time. Not like Johnny is counting, either.

Retirement, overall, has been a very good thing for Simon. But he thinks, without a doubt, that it’s only been made worth it by the man who’s seen him through his worst and still loves him by the end of each and every day.

They end up making breakfast together.

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hey, glad to see you back :) hope you have been well

hello!!! i have been, just super busy (which is why i am responding to this almost a week later than i meant to :’) )!! i miss being more active on this account but i have just been Swamped with work and school lol

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First week of knowing each other.. what have u gotten urself into Tav

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ancient mw art from the crypts

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ghost is a good soldier, but he’s not perfect, not by any means.

so when a mission goes wrong and he’s partly to blame (whether in large or small part, no one can figure out), after he briefs price, he all but demands to take leave. time to himself to figure out what went wrong and how he can prevent it from happening ever again.

price, knowing there’s a non-zero chance ghost would leave with or without approval, lets him. it’s only a week, and ghost barely takes time off as is, so price reasons—why not let him think this will help?

it’s on this leave that ghost meets one john “soap” mactavish—how and where they meet he insists is classified—who is in a similar-but-not-quite-the-same predicament as ghost; temporary suspension for insubordination, having made a reckless decision against direct orders that could have very well killed many of the people he’d ultimately ended up saving.

“luck o’ the irish,” soap says.

“you’re scottish,” ghost replies.

soap grins, something mad, cryptic, and strangely amicable. “exactly.”

ghost returns from leave a few short days after. he isn’t satisfied, hasn’t gotten whatever answers or solutions he’d been looking for, but he still has to work, no matter how paranoid he is about fucking up again, possibly worse than the last time.

then a few weeks later, he’s greeted by that same odd scotsman, who promises to save ghost a seat—and suddenly ghost doesn’t feel so paranoid anymore.

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Forgot to post this publicly for my ko-fi request 😭

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Self-care <3

Last one for @tacticallyunsoundjohnnyboy 🫶 Thank you so much once again for trusting me with our favourite boys 🥰

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ghostsoap commission for @bluegiragi!

thank you so much for an opportunity to draw them again 🖤

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soap and ghost being GAY

inspired by this post https://bsky.app/profile/hyenabones.bsky.social/post/3lngg6vc7o22m

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would we be able to get some injured but okay ghoap please <3

Ummmm I don’t like angst but imagine he hurt his finger or something hehehehehhee

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Ghostsoap in Polish Army PT uniforms

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Velcro bf <333