#anyways ghoap

[sudsyv2]

Soap: I don’t know why but it’s been getting hard to sleep recently

Ghost: I could always knock you up.

Soap: wha

Ghost: I MEAN KNOCK OUT. I MEAN I COULD ALWAYS KNOCK YOU OUT-

*gaz cackling from the other side of the room*

[reds-skull]

I really should draw Soap more with his red mask, as you all can tell I love it

[furiosophie]

it's something sinister to love without regard for dear tomorrow

[eiraeths]

After Ghost and Soap retire, and they’re looking at houses together, it occurs to Soap that he doesn’t know Ghost’s favorite color. He of course, has to find out and pesters Ghost about it. Ghost stares at him for a few quiet moments before saying blue. Soap may be stupid fucking smart, but there can be a lot of emphasis on the stupid when it comes to awareness of self. Their house ends up full of little blue accents. Ghost is delighted about this and Soap is a little embarrassed when he realizes, but he embraces it quickly.

[gomzdrawfr]

it's hard loving yourself

[maiamars]

my birthday is also your birthday so here :

[soaqrudyz]

immortal soap au but ghost is yelling and panicking because “why don’t you ever listen to me?! you could’ve been killed!” and soap just smiles sadly, holds him close, and tells him that he isn’t going anywhere, promise.

“you can’t guarantee that, soap! you can’t promise i won’t lose you!”

“oh love,” and he squeezes him that much tighter for all his troubles, “you’ve no idea.”

and really, he didn’t. he had no clue that soap had seen and loved every version of him throughout history, that they’d laughed and kissed and left their fingerprints on every continent, or that he’d still love him centuries in the future when they did this song and dance for the trillionth first time.

[shadow0-1]

If I push, will you pull?

[iite-cool]

losing my mind thinking about being curled up in bed between simon and johnny, moaning straight into soap's ears as simon presses his long fingers up against the spot in your cunt that makes you squeal. he leans in to nibble at your earlobe and pour honey in your ear, "like my fingers in you, sweetheart? yeah? can feel you leaking around me, fuck. go on lovie, tell johnny how good I'm making you feel." you do as he says - of course you do - and curl your fingers in johnny's hair to pull him closer, holding onto him for dear life as he starts licking at your pert nipples, 'feels s'good, johnny ah- mmh feels so good!' and he can only take so much of your whimpering until he starts canting his own hips against yours, rubbing his painfully hard cock against the side of your hip.

simon grabs you firmly by the back of your neck to direct your attention back to him and he groans gutterally at the fucked-out look on your face. fuck he loves watching you go stupid bc of him. he presses his lips to yours in a wet kiss even though you're in no headspace to kiss back and just moan straight into his mouth all cross eyed. he sucks your tongue and lets his teeth scrape against it a little. simon speeds up the pump of his fingers in you when he feels your walls start to clench around him desperately, "you gonna cum for me, pet? yeah, you're gonna give it to me? 'course you are, such a good girl f'me, ain't ya?" you start to babble mindlessly, 'please simon, please si let me cum please- i'm so close, i'm gonna- i'm gonna cum- i'm gonna cummmm-!' your mouth parts in a silent scream and your nails dig so hard into simon's arm, he knows he'll be able to see it for days as you reach your climax, twitching and writhing.

both your boys come close to hold you through your peak and be there when you come back down to earth, and the whole time johnny's still humping his leaking dick against you, desperate for release. when you do come down and your eyes focus again, you have a dumb smile plastered across your face, all content and sated. "y'alright, pet?" you nod at simon and give him a sweet kiss and this is when he drops his hand back down to your cunt to collect some of your spilt wetness. you whine a little, still insanely sensitive, but shut up immediately when you see simon's fingers dripping with your nectar heading toward johnny, "open up, lad." you nearly keel over at the look on soap's face - his pupils are blown wide, charcoal swallowing ocean blue, with the most desperate look you've ever seen on him and he's flushed pink from the neck up. he wastes not a second laving his tongue around simon's fingers, moaning and drooling around them in his mouth. johnny's eyes roll back into his head and his hips jerk once twice three times until he stills and fills his boxers with his cum. you press kisses to his neck while he comes down with simon's fingers scratching the shaved sides of his head. you take some time to revel in the warmth of the bubble created with your loves before you roll on top of simon to return the favour, signalling to johnny to do the same.

masterlist

please comment i have so many thoughts about these men that need to be talked about

[sudsyv2]

Soap: what’s the one thing I told you not to do.

Ghost: burn the house down.

Soap: and what did you do?

Ghost: made you dinner.

*fire alarm blaring in the background, the smoke coming from ghosts supposed dinner wafting from the kitchen as both ghost and soap are at the front door*

[reds-skull]

Can't believe I had to google "rare puns" for this comic

[ghcstao3]

Retirement is supposed to be peaceful—at least, that's what Price had told Ghost. He'd said that, while the quiet is unnerving at first, you settle into it relatively easily until it's something in which you find solace. You learn to relax your shoulders if only a little bit, and you rediscover small joys you had completely forgotten about when your entire life was routine, routine, routine.

And now Ghost is starting to believe that the old bastard had been lying to him if only to talk him down from a ledge.

Because retirement is anything but peaceful. Sure, it's nice to be able to cook his own meals and have more downtime for his reading, and sure, it's nice to not have to be so hyper-vigilant in his own space for once—but God knows he knows nothing of the experience of silence when his neighbour is so goddamn loud.

Maybe it's Ghost's fault for choosing to live in a flat—he could find himself a home in the countryside without issue, he's sure of it, if only it didn't require so much effort and paperwork—but at the same time, he feels totally blameless. Because he is.

His neighbour, however, is not.

Now, Ghost has never encountered this person before. Never ended up stepping out as the same time as them, never bothered to introduce himself when he moved in. All he knows is that the person directly across the hall from him has no concept of respecting one's neighbours in terms of volume.

Be it making a racket in the wee hours when, presumably, making breakfast, or be it playing music or movies far too loud, or hell, be it talking to themselves about something Ghost needn't know the gist of, whoever it is knows no quiet. And it's getting on Ghost's last nerve.

He doesn't feel it quite warrants a formal noise complaint, but he does think it needs an intervention. If Ghost had to be forced out of the military due to injury, he's very well going to make the most out of his retirement.

Which involves silence.

Ghost waits until he knows his neighbour is home, if evidenced by the loud clashing of pots and pans in their kitchen, to go over and knock to finally, hopefully talk something out, but he too soon discovers that the plan is entirely useless.

Because as Ghost knocks and knocks, it's as if his neighbour doesn't hear him. Even in the lulls of little to no noise, there's absolutely no response. It's unbelievable.

He knows confrontation isn't everybody's thing—it's barely his own—but Christ. At least he'd answer the door.

Ghost leaves a note instead. Slips it beneath the door and retires to his own flat, hoping that his neighbour could at least bother to read.

And they must. Because Ghost realizes, over the course of the next few days, he can finally hear his own thoughts again.

A week goes by, and it's blissfully quiet. Maybe Price hadn't been such a liar after all.

Two weeks go by, and... Ghost realizes that no, Price is still a liar. The complete silence isn't peaceful at all, not when he'd grown so accustomed to noise.

Maybe Ghost had overreacted.

He's on his feet and across the hall before he has time to think about it, fist hovering over the door, unsure if he should knock. It didn't work last time, but he feels an apology should be spoken, not written, so certainly it's worth—

The lock on the other side clicks, and suddenly Ghost has no choice. The door swings open to finally reveal his mystery neighbour, and... oh.

Oh.

"Well, hello. Can I help you wi' somethin'?"

Ghost tries not to wince at the man's volume, though he doesn't think he's all that successful. Years of wearing a mask had not done well for him and keeping his expressions schooled.

But loudness aside... the lilt of his neighbour's Scottish accent is otherwise... pleasant. Rough in a way Ghost finds far too enticing, and brimming with life in a way his own deadpan never has been.

He tries not to linger on that thought.

"I'm..." Ghost wets his lips, feeling strangely nervous. "I wanted to apologize for my note. It wasn't very... it was rude. So I'm... sorry."

Since when is talking to new people nerve-wracking for him? Ghost must be going soft.

The man tilts his head. There's a slight furrow in his brow, and Ghost assumes it's because he's recalling the note to put a face to its scribbled words.

Ghost assumes wrong.

"Sorry, could you... repeat that for me?"

Ghost frowns. That was... not at all what he was expecting. So much for apologizing for his own note when his neighbour is going to be a prick anyway.

He opens his mouth to bite back a response, but not before his neighbour's eyes are widening and he's frantically gesturing in surrender.

"I don't mean to... I'm only asking because I'm deaf," the man hurriedly explains. "I don't... I've never been good at readin' lips."

And, well. If that doesn't answer every one of Ghost's questions.

His first thought is that he'd been stupid for not thinking of the possibility. His second is thank God for Roach.

Tentatively, Ghost raises his hands, a little out of practice but familiar nonetheless with sign language. Now he just feels even more like an arse.

"Want to apologize," Ghost repeats. "For the note."

A grin slowly appears on his neighbour's face at the use of sign, responding with enthusiasm despite the rocky start and the reason for Ghost's being there.

"My fault," the man says, shaking his head. "Never realize how loud I'm being."

"Still sorry." Ghost offers out one of his hands, finger-spelling with the other, "Simon."

"John," the man replies aloud, his smile warm as he shakes Ghost's hand. There's an awkward moment after their hands fall back to their sides, and for a second Ghost considers just turning and leaving, but thankfully John saves him from that.

"Well, I have to get to the shops," John says, and right, he'd just been leaving, "but I'll see you around?"

Ghost nods, and that seems to be enough for John to brush past, closing his door behind him.

That was certainly... something. At the very least, a better outcome than Ghost had been anticipating.

He should call Price. Tell the man that his idea of retirement is entirely twisted—because clearly he doesn't have a neighbour like John, who Ghost fears just might find a way to worm himself into Ghost's post-military life one way or another.

Maybe he shouldn't have left that note after all.

[furiosophie]

[wispscribbles]

Your art style is just so delicious!!! It’s got such low key Ghibli vibes, especially in the eyes, and your color control is fantastic. You’re amazing, keep rockin it! ✨

aw yay, Ghibli vibes!! I grew up on those movies, they've definitely inspired me to create. Thank you sm <3

wanted to draw some small ghibli ghoap after getting this ask. 'Ghost's moving castle'

[eiraeths]

soap falls in love too early and ghost falls in love too late

[s0fter-sin]

soapghost circus au

ghost’s an extreme motorcycle stunt performer - globe of death, riding on his back wheel along tightropes, that sort of thing

soap’s a fire breather/dancer. he’s a roaming performer; he just finds empty spaces or bored people and starts twirling

he pretends not to notice the way he always wanders towards a certain tent every night to watch a certain masked daredevil defy gravity. he thinks he's slick and that ghost won't notice him in the crowd, completely forgetting that he's carrying something that happens to be on fire

ghost couldn't miss him if he tried

one day off, soap's trialing fire whips; he loves the loud crack and the way the flame licks through the air and maybe he's a little too impatient to practice with non flaming whips first, even though he's never used one before

he's covered in soot and fine welts where the tip of the whip keeps flicking back up at him, cutting through his shirt and stinging his skin but he doesn't let that stop him. it starts to stick to him, damp with sweat and blood and he's quick to strip it off; throwing it to the side to keep practicing

when soap finally gets a few good cracks in a row and breaks to celebrate, he almost jumps out of his skin when he sees the masked rider leaning against a trailer watching him

of all the times he's wanted ghost to talk to him, this is not one of them

he wanted to impress him, dance for him with his flaming batons and be mesmerised by his fluidity and skill

not catch him filthy and struggling with something as basic as a whip

he's ready for ghost to ream him out for not having control over the whip - he's known throughout the circuit for expecting utter perfection in his routines - but when ghost finally does speak, it's only to ask if he's done for the day

soap falters for a moment. he wanted to get some consistency with the whip before he stopped, but he's starting to feel the hours of practice; muscles aching and skin blistered with minor burns

he says he is and ghost pushes off the trailer, nodding his head to make soap follow. he brings him back to his trailer and tells him to clean up then takes out his personal med kit to treat the grazes on soap's skin

soap's shocked; for all that he loves to watch ghost perform, they've never really talked before

part of why he joined the circus was so he wouldn't be a burden on anyone, the oldest in a family with too many mouths to feed and not even time to nurture, and here he is taking up ghost's valuable practice time be he wasn't good enough to handle his own discipline. he tries to brush him off, downplaying the burns and tries to leave before half them can be treated but ghost just glares and orders him to sit back down

ghost does expect perfection from himself but it isn’t out of any malice or ego; it's bc he knows if he isn't perfect, he could very easily die. he’s picked a dangerous profession and he gives it the respect it deserves. there isn't any shame in being a novice or failing at something; he thinks there's a lot of beauty in having the courage to get back up again and again

so every day he watches soap practice and bullies him into his trailer to put him back together bc he knows he won't do it by himself

and every night soap wanders over to ghost's section of the fair grounds, in awe of his skill and wishing he could be worthy of the care he gives him