Guess Who Has An Ideaaaaaa

✨Guess who has an ideaaaaaa✨

I saw this post about ghost having lost some of his teeth from over time and for some reason I thought of the exact opposite thing.

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It all started out with Soap’s notice of Simon’s oddly sharp canines.

Soap overtime has gotten very few glimpses of ghosts face, especially when they’re still finding grounding with each other after meeting. The first time Soap sees ghost without his mask, Ghost doesn’t speak. The next time he takes it off and he does speak, but Soap is too caught up in awe to even think there’s something different about ghost.

He doesn’t notice them until their first kiss. The kiss itself was uncoordinated yet so passionate- all tongue and teeth- given their far too many close calls on this last mission.

It’s Soap letting out a small hiss as his tongue feels as though it had been pricked. Any thought soap had about whatever just pricked his tongue left the atmosphere as Ghost made a soft noise in the back of his throat. The sound had been so vulnerable yet so Simon. It had Soap practically melting for the man.

It wasn’t until the next time he had seen ghost maskless that Simon smiled after something Soap said.

At first he was blinded by the beauty of the man in front of him, how could he not? What with the sun from outside the window shining on Simon’s pale skin, his light freckles being illuminated by the warm hue.

But there, in that perfectly crooked smile, were the ever sharp canines. As pointed as a spear and as white as a cloud.

Now Soap isn’t stupid, quite contrary really. But after this observation, some other things about ghost seemed to be connected.

How Simon had these almost inhuman canines.

How Simon was always pale and dressed to the nines- all in dark, grim clothes- to never be touched by the golden sun above them unless it was indirectly- like through a window.

How Simon was always frigid to the touch.

How Simon rarely ever ate with the rest of the task force.

Even on missions, Simon would just disappear sometimes, eventually coming back with far more blood than he had before.

At first, Soap had thought Ghost had just run into some altercations- which he probably did. At least that was soaps previous thought before he stumbled upon ghost as they were clearing a building. The man was hovering over the enemies body, blood dripping from his mouth that becomes soon to be wiped away by the Brit’s sleeve. Simon had explained that he had lost his gun in the fight, and as a quick resort before the man could call for back up, he had bitten him.

Simon hadn’t seemed proud of the action. Johnny didn’t push, but he certainly filed that thought into the back of his head.

Now, Soap isn’t saying his boyfriend is a vampire per se, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it- especially after that.

At first Soap tried something simple, just to test out this silly little thought.

On a recon mission, soap had picked up a small but sturdy stick and sharpened the end slightly with his pocket knife, making a stake. He simply pocketed the thing and went on his way.

When he got back to base he went to ghosts room to ‘show it’ to him.

“Hey L.T, got you a gift.” Ghost had looked up from his desk and looked at Soap, who then looked at the makeshift stake. Simon had just looked at it for a moment and nodded, putting his hand out to take the offering then giving soap a masked kiss on the cheek.

Soap paused for a moment at the lack of reaction towards the stake- at least the lack of a negative reaction. The man simply accepted it…though really Simon is probably used to the odd gifts by now- (given the growing collection of rocks on ghost’s shelves gifted to him by Soap.)

Soap had simply nodded and gave a “of course, Si.”

The next thing Soap had tried was garlic. He waited until they were both on leave and he made some simply spaghetti with garlic. Now he didn’t actually put the garlic in. If his “suspicions” were correct and Ghost was a vampire, he’s not about to poison his boyfriend.

Once again, Simon made no reaction to the garlic as Johnny was cutting it, despite the garlic letting out a potent smell. Simon had simply moved to wrap his arms around Johnny’s waist and rested his head on the Scot’s shoulder, his eyes closed. Perfectly golden eyelash’s fluttering.

By the time they finished eating Soap simply accepted that ghost wasn’t a vampire. Not that he actually thought Simon was- that would be just silly- but whatever experiment he was conducting came to be a failure. Not that he minded much.

Little did Soap know that Ghost was very thankful that Johnny didn’t put the garlic in, given that he is, in fact, a vampire.

Anyway this was just a fun idea that I had that became a lot longer than I expected. I might do something more with this, I might not. We’ll seeee.

Also here’s the post that inspired me ^^^^

another option:

turning it into a windows 95 logo is also acceptable.

When Johnny asked Simon to come home with him on leave, he had never expected… this.

Johnny’s flat in Glasgow was a tiny thing, barely large enough to fit one, much less two massive soldiers. They made it work well enough, as long as neither of them minded being constantly wrapped up in each other, always within reach, and neither of them did. Their last mission had gone to hell in a heartbeat, and the 141 were lucky to be alive; Price had sent them all home on mandated medical leave, and Simon and Johnny were taking full advantage of the time off base to reacquaint themselves with each other being present and tangible and alive.

That didn’t change the fact, though, that his flat was only slightly larger than a postage stamp, which was fine for a few days, but he had sensed Simon getting antsy, feeling caged in, and had suggested visiting his parents for a couple of days, if only to get out of the house. It wouldn’t be any less oppressive—the MacTavish family was massive and overbearing on the best of days—but it would offer some reprieve from the near-constant contact and the stifling city.

Which was how Johnny found himself staring down at his lieutenant, his partner, curled up on his back on his parents’ couch, fast asleep, a green dinosaur stuffed animal clutched against his chest.

It didn’t look particularly comfortable; Simon was too tall, his legs too long, to be able to stretch out completely, so his knees were hiked up, his socked feet flat against the cushioned armrest. His neck was at an odd angle, resulting in his chin nearly touching his own shoulder, his unmasked cheek squished slightly where it was pressed against the leather. And the stuffed animal…

Johnny had bought it as a gift for one of his nephews, a toddling bairn who had struggled with nightmares, and the shopkeep who sold it to him had assured him that the little beads in the dinosaur’s tummy would provide enough weight to be a comfort without being dangerous. Evidently, his nephew had taken one look at Simon Riley and decided that the scarred soldier needed it more than he did.

Both of Simon’s arms were wrapped around the soft toy, squishing it against his chest, rising and falling with every slow, deep breath. He looked at peace in a way that Johnny hadn’t seen him look in a long time. They had spent the day surrounded by fussing family members and babbling children, their attentions split between warm homemade meals and whatever trinkets had caught the toddlers’ interest. Johnny would’ve felt bad; he was long used to his family’s antics, had grown up surrounded by siblings and cousins and extended relatives. But Simon had taken to it like a duck to water, effortlessly shifting focus from one person to another, treating each with equal sincerity and devotion, the same way he did in the field. It had been a delight to watch, especially when his mam and sisters had taken advantage of Simon’s distraction to shoot Johnny knowing glances.

“Gonna stand there all night, sergeant?”

Johnny startled, not enough to move, but enough to send his heart rate skyrocketing. He recovered quickly though, too well trained to do anything else. Simon hadn’t moved, hadn’t even opened his eyes, and it would’ve unnerved him if he hadn’t spent the last two years cementing himself as a permanent fixture in Simon’s life and, therefore, becoming incredibly used to his partner’s uncanny sense of perception. Even, apparently, while asleep.

“Just wonderin’ if Gaz’d ever believe me if I told him, sir.”

“Take a picture,” Simon grumbled, his voice deep with sleep. “It’ll last longer.”

Johnny snorted a quiet laugh, already imagining the look on his fellow sergeant’s face. He didn’t pull his phone out, though, just like Simon knew he wouldn’t. These moments were for the two of them alone, raw and bare and soft.

“Let’s go to bed, love,” he whispered, reaching out to run his hand through Simon’s hair. It was tangled from the grasping of tiny, fisted fingers throughout the day (Johnny’s nephews had never seen blond hair before and, as such, had been absolutely enraptured by Simon’s head of golden hair), and he didn’t mention the way Simon pushed into his hand, seeking touch and warmth like a cat. He also didn’t mention the way Simon continued to hug the stuffed animal to his chest as he unfurled his long legs, stretching slightly, his knees popping, before drawing himself up to his usual towering height. His eyes were half-lidded with sleep, soft in a way he rarely allowed himself to be, the green dinosaur tucked safely in his arms as he followed Johnny upstairs.

In a week, they will be back on base, back to their tactical gear and their sidearms and their razor-sharp focus. They will be shipped out to some foreign soil, either sweltering heat or numbing cold, either dry deserts or soaking rainforests, and blood will be spilled, probably their own, definitely their enemy’s. They will once again be hardened soldiers, products of war, and there will be no room for such softness. Which was why Johnny reveled in the way Simon curled around him now, in a bed two sizes too small for two muscular men, a warm blanket blocking out the worst of the Scottish chill, a green weighted dinosaur stuffed animal clutched in two massive arms against an equally massive chest.

He tucked his nose against the nape of his partner’s neck, one arm thrown over Simon’s hip, and drifted off to the quiet sound of breathing, of comfort, of peace.

This post cured my art block I’ve been having for months 😩

Hunter, the vampire frat bro who was inspired by my besties likeness lmaooo

This ate

i spent $32 on this fucking bowl at the moma and at first i felt bad buying it bc it was so expensive but ive had a terrible day today and every time i look at my lil bowl im like :o) you know what. i can get through anything with this bowl by my side