#Ghoap kinda

[ellaa-writes]

Meeting your boyfriend Simon's, best friend Johnny.

The first time you met him his eyes lit up, they caressed you skin and hugged your curves. His blood boiling hot and his tongue damn near sticking out to pant like a dog. But he knew to behave, to not let Simon see. Johnny just smiled back and hugged you a little longer than he should have but nobody complained.

The next time he saw you was at you and Simon's house. Simon inviting some friends over for a football(soccer) game. Johnny's been to Simon's plenty of times before, even during the first few months Simon kept you a secret. But he noticed the little things, besides Simon's sudden change in mood, but the way the old beat up pillows were now replaced with new ones. How the crusty smushed bar of soap that's been next to the bathroom sink has now been replaced with a yellow bottle with sunflowers on it. Small things.

He didn't know what to bring besides a case of beer, holding it nevrrously in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. When you opened the door your smile bright as ever, Johnny swore he died and went to heaven. You pulled him in for a hug, telling him how sweet and thoughtful he was. Taking the flowers into the kitchen and putting them in a pretty vase.

Johnny made it his mission to bring you flowers any time he was coming over. One late night after a Sunday supper, you were in the kitchen doing the last rounds of cleaning and tidying up. Simon and Johnny sitting out on the back patio enjoying a cigar over a bottle of scotch. Simon was the one to speak up first.

"Amazing isn't she." Johnny stuck his finger in his ear to make sure it was clean, taking a minute to understand what Simon said.

"Aye, she sure is, Lt. I'm happy for ye." he took a sip of the smooth amber liquid, watching has the stars began to shine.

"Won't stop yappin' bout ya either." Johnny's head snapped in his Lieutenant's direction, eyes wide as ever. "She likes ya too." Simon wasn't even fazed, taking a drag of his cigar.

"Ya should stay tha night, she'd be thrilled bout 'at." Simon finally looked at Johnny, smile big as ever. "Watcha ya say?" Johnny didn't have to be told twice.

[bashi-splashy]

posting on tumblr first instead of twt for once 🫡🫡

i think Ghost called brainwashed Soap “johnny” one too many times…

[s3rrrpentine]

first page for the other part (｡・//ε//・｡)

tbh ahhhh i cannot wait to show you all the next parts!!!!! so to ease my excitement i give you. 1 page. for now. and hopefully my creative juice keeps being juicy so i could complete the comic wayyy waaaayyyyyyyy fasssssterrrrrrrrrrr (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ

[spookyscaryspoon]

just thinking of... poly!141 hybrids living in a cozy cabin deep in the woods...

it's winter and Kyle stumbles upon an unconscious Spring faerie, far from where she should be...

she's bruised and beaten, and Kyle being the sweetheart he is, knows he cannot leave her there!

he takes her back to the cabin, and while the others are still out hunting or doing yard work, he sneaks her into his bedroom and takes care of her wounds

Johnny is the first back, holding a heap of groceries from back in town. as he puts them down, he smells something in the air...a foreign scent of flowers...a hint of vanilla, maybe?

he rushes to kyles room, catching him red handed holding a little fae. he's immediately smitten.

they're both treating her, preparing food while waiting for her to wake up, distracted by her completely, when Simon finally saunters in, smelling like the sweat with a mix of the outdoors having just come back from hunting. hes immediately on guard when he spots the Fae on Kyle's bed, pulling Johnny away from the bed with a whine as hes forced away from his new little fae.

Behind them, John finally walks in arriving from the outside and coming to see what all the commotion is about.

fuck, how are they going to explain this?

[yi3248]

napping

[karlachismylife]

So, we all know Simon is covered in freckles, beautiful constellations blooming on his pale skin, nature marking the perfect paths for kisses along his collarbones, down the dip of his spine, scattered on his arms.

And his face, of course, little spots on his nose and cheeks, sneaky ones all the way up to his eyes. Hidden from everyone, full attire, a mask and smear black providing cover for the shy stars, like clouds do on windy, humid autumn nights. Cold and detached wrap to keep this weird sign of life on a living dead body from overly curious eyes.

But not from his Captain. Price knows these freckles, he's seen them young and bright, he's seen them dull and almost invisible on a half translucent skin.

He's seen them disappear, long, cruel winter and the mask almost grown into Ghost's skull wiping everything besides uneven scars and black ingrained into his skin. He's seen the summer taken out of his boy, replaced with the dead sleep of the winter, white and icy like Simon's eyelashes.

And, frankly, he won't have that.

If there's not enough sun for those little specks of life to shine, be it London fog half of the year or excruciating cold of the northern polar night they're stuck in on an op, Captain Price is giving his Lieutenant a personal sunshine. One that will melt polar caps if you let it shine in full brightness, hot, unpredictable in its flares, relentlessly glowing and cutting it's radiation through any barier.

Deadly as a burning globe of gas can be. Sergeant MacTavish.

Johnny doesn't have a problem with disregarding laws of physics. If this sole, dark, barren planet of ice refuses to circle him like everyone else does, Soap flips all those heliocentric theories over and instead makes a satellite to Ghost out of himself. Simon's joints stop aching when the shared space heats up, air few degrees away from rippling around Soap's broad form like it's boiling overhead a fire pit. His breath appears visible again, contrast to the almost non-existent fog that was leaking out of his mouth, making everyone who knew (not many of them) wonder, if Simon Riley actually ever left his grave.

One day, Simon's knuckles turn white and hurt. One day, Simon's frosty lashes flutter and not a single cloud of steam exits his mouth. One day, he feels frozen in place despite being basked in molten sunlight of Johnny's gaze, because Sergeant's restless hands found a makeup pen and are swiftly covering Simon's flushed cheeks in freckles.

Crowded constellations, all little sister stars from the MacTavish clan, clinging to Simon in semi-permanent kisses.

Price walks in on them, Simon sitting with his hands clenched tight and his breath held, Johnny with his tongue stuck between his front teeth as he keeps bringing spring out of its long dormant state on Simon's once again alive face.

Just like a sun should. Just like Captain Price expected.

[emmster]

Little wip 👀

(Actually proud of my lineart here hence I’m showing it off)

[forestshadow-wolf]

Soap honestly thinks that he's very terrible to be around, like just his general presence is annoying. It's honestly to the point that soap doesn't even realize he's being self depreciating

So he cannot fathom why ghost...? Hangs around him so much.... does he like... hate himself or something??? Should soap be worried about him? Does he need to go tell price that Ghost is being mean to himself by subject himself to soap's presence?

When ghost initiates something with him one night he goes a long with it but only because he assumes that either ghost didn't want to deal with strings attached (what with the mask and all that), or he was desperate and maybe everyone but him is too scared to touch the big bad ghost

When ghost asks for them to become more serious (it was always deadly serious for soap), he says yes even though he's SO confident that this could only end horribly for him.

Ghost really, honestly, struggles to get soap to see that it's really enjoyable to be around him. But slowly it starts to get better. Some days are better than others. And it's not perfect, but neither is Ghost.

Can you tell I like fuckin' with soap?

[eiraeths]

age difference ghoap but it’s just soap singing your love by outfield as horribly as possible to annoy ghost

soap: youuu know i like my boys a little bit olderrr

ghost, covering ears: i will actually pay you to shut the fuck up.

[s0fter-sin]

supernatural au where ghost is a flesh eating ghoul and soap is painfully human

in the middle of las almas, soaked in rain and blood that feels a little too close to soaked earth, soap asks - begs - ghost if he'll eat him if he dies here. ghost has to swallow the urge to promise that he will; that he'll savour him, let his body and his memory keep him warm and full as he mourns

not a drop would go to waste

and soap... soap needs to know that he won't be left in this place reeking of death and betrayal. the thought that he could fall in one of these back alleys and be left to rot and bloat, his ribs eventually cracking open and exposing his soft insides to the mexican heat fills him with a unique dread

he needs to know he'll be brought home

but scotland hasn't been home in a long time. england never came close; the various concrete bases he’s shuffled between no better than the blending walls of hotel rooms to his teenage eyes

ghost wouldn't drop him off at the nearest morgue to be planted a field with a cookie cutter headstone to be forgotten. he would consume him; piece by piece, bite by bite. it would probably take hours - days maybe - of slow, devoted feasting

but ghost is nothing if not persevering

ghost would give him a home and a duty to fulfil, even in death. he would make it so his body served a purpose just as he's served all his life

served his parents. served god. served the military. poor, aimless soap- always longing for a reason, a higher calling

what higher a calling is there than feeding a starved man?

[lemonwrap]

I’m interested in seeing a Soap who survived Makarov with brain damage and some resulting issues—but by far the biggest problem is that Soap is absolutely, thoroughly, one hundred percent convinced that everything around him is just a figment of his imagination.

Everything. Even Ghost, the man he loves.

[mikichko]

Ghoap/bluetooth anon. The reader has a list of names she wants for her future kids and number 1 for a boy was Zachary and the reader added a note next to it that basically says “I got my perfect Zachary already” or something like that and the boys find it and are trying to fight back both their horny knee jerk reactions to the reader with more kids and their tears because she really was meant to come into their family from the start, huh?

hi cariño!! this has been sitting in my inbox and got drowned by everything else!

i'm writing this with a focus on johnny cause I can't hone in on simon's pov at the moment. now dont glare at me too much since i haven't written in a while but here i go...

Fatum part of chao mi niño cw: female reader, suggestive language (nothing explicit), all lowercase

johnny finds the list on accident.

he's rifling through the papers on your desk in search of the nursery details when he finds something else.

the sheet's color captures his attention at first. it's white, but dulled in comparison to the other papers on the desk. his fingertips graze the sheet, the material smooth and sturdy under his skin. your strokes affirm the feeling, carbon staining the sheet without a stray line. fluid and cohesive throughout the paper, safeguarding your words.

his eyes trace the words and he suddenly understands why you'd been meticulous in choosing your materials.

it's your list of baby names.

the names are printed neatly on blank campus paper. everything is written in pencil, no trace of pen ink. each name is accompanied with it's meaning and small drawings that you've brightly colored.

there are creases across the sheet from where it's been folded. and if johnny stares at it long enough he can start to gather what you've folded it into countless times.

he can't help but wonder how often you'd unfolded the paper. had you known all these names would be yours from the beginning? did you start with only one and build your way up? how long had you been ruminating over the idea of your own babe?

johnny tries to move past that last thought but a warmth spreads across his lower belly. he thinks of you, alone in your own flat, the list held in your hands as you wonder when you'll have the chance to use a name.

his hand grips the edge of the desk as he breaths deeply, trying to calm the sudden urge that arises in him. to have you on your back, give you a child for each of the names on your list. make this goal of yours a reality.

he closes his eyes, breathing deeply to settle himself, before he opens them again.

this time he catches something new. lead ink, more saturated and darker than the rest, right next to the first name on the list.

Zachariah - God remembers got my zachy. he'll always be reminded he's loved

johnny's breath stills. his chest tightens and he swallows.

he remembers the nights he'd spent in the desert. skin chafed by sweat and aggravated by the sand. staring up at a sky that Glasgow hadn't let him see. eyes tracing the stars that had watched so many before him. he'd asked the stars then what the hell he was doing. asked them for guidance in his life because he had no idea what he was marching towards.

at the time he'd thought it was certain death.

but now here, in this house, with this list, and an empty nursery underway he understands.

he'd been making his way to you. to simon. to zach. to the family that had been waiting for him.

[juggalomary]

Saw someone do it and I’m a proud follower

10 notes: I go through my drafts

25 notes: i re-edit my teen au

50 notes: I finish and publish my art

75 notes: I try (keyword try) to fix my iPad

100 notes: I finish and publish all my one shots

Not likely

200 notes: i start my new projects I’ve been procrastinating

300 notes: i clear my tumblr drafts and post that

400 notes: i get twitter

500 notes: smut…

For fun

1k and I get a therapist

[shyravenns]

Ghostsoap western au sketch!

[karlachismylife]

Me: scrambling to finish homework before my linear algebra class

My brain: can you imagine fem!ghoap tho?

I can't, I'm my biggest fucking enemy. BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE FEM!GHOAP THO?

Fem!Soap has absolutely Harley Quinn vibes, batshit crazy with a sprinkle of pyromania and several decades of unmedicated ADHD. If Soap got his haircut inspiration from some local punk band in his hometown, fem!Soap was the leader of said band, adding to Mam's grey hair every time she returned with new tattoos. Was playing football, when a new kid tried outcasting her cuz she's a girl, went on to beat the shit out of him.

That story about a higher ranking officer Soap punched? Sleazy motherfucker was harassing other women on the base and was unfortunate enough to choose fem!Soap as a target.

Walks around in tank tops and sport bras, all muscle no boobs, probably has a couple fake teeth, always is the one fellow female soldiers turn to when they need to get rid of assholes in the pubs they go for drinks to. Absolutely relishes in being called a "fucking butch" and whatever else those pathetic men try to throw at her, quickly fizzling out when they realize her biceps is the size of their thighs. She worked hard to be better than them, no matter how much some of her family wanted her to be a bit more... traditional. Not her Maw, though, Maw always said if her little Jenny wanted to be a soldier, she could be a damn good one.

Regularly participates in armrestling matches (banned in several pubs where she got carried away and broke someone's wrist) and pays for the round whenever she wins.

All those girls (and some guys) hanging off her elbows, and everyone assumes she's going home with one (or several) of them every time.

And fem!Ghost? She might have a horrible reputation, people spreading disgusting rumors about her past and what's under that mask (doesn't bother her, truth is so much more gruesome). Keeps to herself, grim sense of humour doing nothing to make her seem more approachable. A looming shadow, the personification of horrors they tell about what war and captivity do to women - and that's for those who actually know she's a woman. Most people just assume she's a big fucking guy, loose hoodies helping pass, deep, hoarse voice - never came back as it was from the time with Roba, broken by her screams with an ugly scar on her throat on top - only adding to confusion.

Too much baggage to unpack, all those things done to her easier to cut off with the dirty blond hair she buzzes to avoid the fuss. Every chance of having a family robbed of her in horrific ways, loneliness feels safer. Easier. Everyone's better off without needing to bear all those tons of crap she hoards on her broad shoulders.

Sits apart from the main company on those outings, nursing her bourbon and freaking people out - if she gets hit on, she sends everyone off with a few words. Even Soap, the blasting (sometimes too bloody brightly) sunshine, seems to fail with illuminating that shadow, all her attempts to get closer shut down. Maybe not as harsh as the others, but Ghost thinks - everything she touches is destroyed in torturous ways.

Soap shouldn't suffer because of her.

Until one day the chair in front of her lone table gets dragged back with a disgusting screeching sound, a heavy thump signaling of a huge (drunk) body plopping down across. Ghost doesn't need to look up - she can detect Soap by the stupid mutt's loud breathing, for fuck's sake. How many did she have?

Too many, thinks Ghost when a tanned arm lands on the table, resting on the elbow in a ready to wrestle stand. Must've been some kind of bet, no one else brave enough to challange big Scottish butch - so bored Soap, naturally, comes to one person she probably deems a worthy opponent.

"Not gonna let me back out, are ya?" Ghost shakes her head with a chuckle and finishes her bourbon, putting the glass down lazily and forgetting to pull the mask back down.

Soap's arm hits the table so hard it nearly cracks the wood - mere seconds.

Disarmed by a crooked, scarred smirk her big blue eyes are so obviously glued to.

"What now? Buy me a drink?" Ghost tilts her head. There's a shocked crowd around them, someone collecting a hefty win.

"Buy ye two and ye owe me a rematch."

Stupid mutt with blue eyes. Ghost wonders if she'll whine like a puppy riding her burly thigh.

i have somewhat a part two here

[eat-applez]

Man I’m so glad that what happens in MW3 is Ghost and Soap get married and live happily ever after and nothing bad ever happens