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How do you tell a dog from an SAS sergeant?
Soap's been trying to think of a punchline, but so far, all he's got is a dog’s gotta shit in the woods and bury it slightly more often than an SAS Sergeant.
Bookmarked by fishpoets
31 Dec 2025
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Ghost is motionless, staring down at John's outstretched hand like he's trying to recall on which page of How to Behave Like a Real Human in Polite Society he’s previously seen the gesture.
Before things can get awkward, John turns the aborted handshake into a jovial, manly sort of punch to Ghost’s shoulder. It's rather like how he imagines it would be to hit an adult moose, both in the physical sensation and in the frisson of anticipated danger it elicits. Gamely, he says, “Truck’s just about set, sir. Glad to be working with you.”
Ghost’s eyes flick up to John’s face, and then higher, to his hair. He frowns.
~
Two idiots are assigned to an ambulance. They fall in love.
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Bookmarked by fishpoets
07 Jul 2025
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Nicolò looks sheepish. "I killed you yesterday, and you awoke at the same time, the same place. But when I die, I wake at different times, different places. This bolt," he tosses it to Yusuf and it lands in the dirt by his knee, "it killed me yesterday, but I woke up many years from now. I lived several lifetimes in those places before returning here and pulling it from my neck."
Nicky's lives and deaths are different. He is unstuck from time - at every death he revives into a different point in his life. Each time he is struck down he wonders, will he awaken to deserts and swords? Will it be gunshots in cities? Joe and Nicky build a fractured life together, falling in love across two different sets of centuries, then patiently waiting for the other to fall in love too. He meets the rest of their little family out of order, but they still build a family around Nicky's involuntary time-traveling.
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Bookmarked by fishpoets
09 Feb 2025
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Ghost wants to be responsible. Usually. Almost always, he wants to think things through, to be rational. But on nights like tonight, if he really wanted to be rational he wouldn’t be trying to hook up with a stranger in a bar. Looking at this man, he knows: this is what he wanted, this is the goal he came here to meet. Still, he doesn’t say anything.
The man sticks out his hand, a little awkwardly. “Name’s Johnny.”
Bookmarked by fishpoets
31 Jul 2024
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For a moment, Soap let the silence sink in. Let himself shift his gaze slightly to the side and rest on Ghost’s thick thigh, fat with the softness of his relaxed muscle, lightly dusted with fine blond hairs. He wanted to sweep the tips of his fingers delicately over those hairs, see if they were as downy as they looked. Wanted to see the way Ghost’s muscles would twitch at the sensation, wanted to see if he’d shy away or press into the touch. Wanted to know if he’d like it.
Would probably end up with a knife in his gut, but at this point, Soap thought it was probably worth it. For one touch, it might be worth it.
It's 3:30 in the morning, and Soap and Ghost can't sleep. How will they pass the time.
Bookmarked by fishpoets
17 Jun 2024