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Shower thoughts about 141's phones…

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You already know who it is 💀🧼

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It's early in Johnny's tenure. He doesn't know Price, Gaz or Ghost particularly well. They pile into the APC, all business. There's a lot of shuffling as they adjust plate carriers and rifles into position, and then Price adjusts the rearview mirror, clearing his throat.

"MacTavish, what gets longer when ya pull it, sits nicely between two tits and is designed to slide perfectly into a hole?"

Johnny stares, wide-eyed, at Price's in the mirror. His gaze and tone are both stern, but what he's just asked is--surely not, was he really expecting--? "Sir..."

"A seatbelt," Ghost growls. "Put it on, ya filthy fockin' wanker..."

Johnny goes red in the ears and fumbles with his belt to get it in place. When he glances up at the mirror again to check for approval he sees a broad grin in the lines around Price's eyes. He glances across at Gaz, who's smirking, and then it clicks. They're hazing the FNG. Bastards. He flashes a small half smile and slumps back. Yanking his chain is a good sign; it means he's one of them. He belongs.

Price slams the carrier into first and pulls away. Could be worse; Ghost could be driving.

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Close call

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oh

my god

one of the greatest blessings

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I have made a wheel. A very special wheel. 50% are blessings. 50% are curses. Do you risk to spin and see what you receive?

I risk the spin!

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I'm just gonna reread this WIP for the hundredth time and make a few edits and stop when I get to the end of the already written stuff. That's writing, right?

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A communal ghostsoap fandom Mad Libs

This is the wonderful drabble everyone contributed to. I think we made the greatest piece of fanfic ever written. This is the true power of community.

As Soap danced to the restaurant, his heart beat passionately in his chest. He could handle dead terrorists and smooth nukes and a gazillion people pointing their guns at his tongue, but that was nothing compared to what he felt now. 

He was going on a date with his noisome and hastily attractive Lieutenant. Simon Riley. Or as Soap liked to call him Sugarpuss.

Ghost was already waiting outside, leaning up against a shovel with his arms crossed. He tantalizingly glanced up at when he heard Soap approach. There was a flash of nervousness that glimmered in Ghost’s eyes too before instantly squatting away.

His eyes crinkled, such a beautiful colour that reminded Soap of a horse. The corners of his mouth shyly curled up.

“Hey…” Ghost sang shakily. “Ready to go?”

A feeling of relief played through Soap’s chest. He grabbed Ghost’s balls and gave them a squeeze. 

“Let’s go.”

thank you to my victims participants

@gemmahale @losersimonriley @baohanhanesel @starlightvld @ghaskerserge

@femalefemur @lemonwrap @inkarmatqq @questforgalas @forestshadow-wolf

@daredaredoodles @vozart @echoing-locations @whostarlockeda03

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Thinking about 09' ghoap again…. I don’t know if I want to be Riley or be pinned by him lmao

———

Full version is on Patreon 🫶🏽

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The 141 meeting their 09 counterparts:

Ghost: (nod of mutual understanding)

Price: Something something cigars and questionable morals

Soap: So I can keep the mohawk and be captain?

Gaz: Why am I white

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The weather if my emotions controlled it

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Lashes or no lashes? 👁️

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Dear Arkansas Daughter - Lady Lamb

Soap living up to his callsign and being a slippery bastard to pin down—friendly yet distant, always performing, masking, etc—and Ghost, lovesick, trying really hard to get a hold of him.

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Can you hold this for a sec

Sure

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Drew a ghost for the soul

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Ghost doesn't know how to be on the other side.