#soap demo

[squinkoblinko]

tugs out heart locket and opens it to reveal a cutout of this babe

[coppercorpse]

I dont wanna say it's a redesign, but I drew fanart of Lady Demo 𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱, it's not canon to the offical design, from Soap Demo (series made by Delak on youtube)

[yeol205]

waow

[boimann]

i'm showing him some quality entertainment

[farahfriday]

more paulwell … there are cathedrals everywhere for those with eyes to see. and delicious fucked up lesbians for those with minds to crackship

[samyurice]

😺😸

Two blokes dating?

[asthedeathoflight]

Okay so I was thinking someone should do something adjacent to this band au by @emilywaters but with Rembrandt as the lighting director but i fear that i may be the only person capable of this considering you know. Thats actually my job. But i have too many wips so you're getting this au in post form. Everything I changed from the original post is due to me writing out this entire post before I successfully tracked it down so like it's not me disagreeing I simply forgor.

I'm not sure what like level of fame they were supposed to be in the original but i need them to be doing stadium shows purely for Rembrandt's sake okay she deserves it theyre touring with an ma3 just believe me.

I think Cleon was originally their lead singer but she had to step down for. Reasons. Idk. So the Warriors are hard up bc their producer is on their ass about getting demos recorded for their next album but none of them really feel good about replacing Cleon.

Mercy is a mistreated burnt out pop idol who's just kind of getting listless at this point because she's basically just a prop for a brand and she can't even give a fuck about her music anymore. She meets Swan at a party and they hit it off and get blackout drunk and Swan wakes up the next day with a recording on her phone of Mercy doing a demo of one of the songs she wrote. She takes it in to their producer like here fine theres a demo are you happy and shes like??? Hello???? This is incredible??? Who is this singer??? And Swan is like hahaha. About that.

The producer reaches out to Mercy's management and theyre like um absolutely not she does not want to join your band she's a solo act but then Mercy gets Swan's number somehow and is like i DO wanna join your band actually but im stuck in this goddamned contract. So then its about them getting their record label to go up against Mercy's and get her out of her contract so she can be their new lead singer.

And also more importantly (to me) is the subplot about the like relatively young and inexperienced lighting girl from their home venue who Cleon insisted on hiring for their first tour and who just kind of stuck around and became part of the group. They tour with a disproportionately nice rig bc Rembrandt is a fucking nerd and none of them can resist her puppy dog eyes about getting shiny new toys. And like yeah she's kind of quiet and doesn't talk much in a group but she can hold her own against the fucking overhires giving her shit at whatever venue and not taking her seriously and she gets stars in her eyes when Ajax asks her about programming so like needless to say Ajax is a little bit obsessed with her. Rembrandt's job is half ordering around men twice her size and age and half real-time computer programming live in front of an audience. Ajax never stood a chance. There are always fans trying to see Ajax after the show and Ajax is always in the booth while Rembrandt talks about the latest patch grand ma pushed out and how she hates everything about it and everyone at that company is trying to ruin her life (she will have adapted and forgotten about this in two days until the next patch which alters her workflow .00001% upon which time she will again believe her career is over and she needs to call them to revert the console)

I think probably their relationship is more of a flashback moment bc obviously The Warriors can't be touring while they're looking for a new singer but I think when they're not on tour Rembrandt lives in Portland and does like weird indie performance art shit and Ajax stays in LA with Swan and the others and the long distance is kind of killing them. Could Ajax stay with Rembrandt in Portland for a few months and fly back down when they're actually recording stuff? Absolutely. Does this idea terrify her existentially for reasons she can neither articulate nor overcome? Also absolutely. But on a more fun note Rembrandt drags Ajax to USITT with her every year which is actually kind of fun for Ajax because in addition to Rembrandt being so excited nobody there is impressed at all by her being famous but they ARE impressed that she knows how DMX works. So. Who's laughing now Swan. The flashcards worked.

[lunarw0rks]

soap being a math genius (bc demolitions)

but having trouble with reading...

[donethatbeforelong]

Y'all guess what

LOOK, LAD, LUUUUK

Screen shot from Soap Demo by Delak←the dude who made Heavy is dead (poorly edited by me)

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[all-purpose-dish-soap]

TF141 reactions to "want me to paint your nails?"

PRICE has never been asked that question before

knee-jerk reaction is no. because he is a man.

but he knows better than that, too; it's just an assumption he was raised with and he's lived too long and seen too much to care about other people's judgement.

he leans over and watches you paint yours. seems harmless enough.

he allows you to paint one (1) pinky nail.

you do as neat a job as you can. very deliberate strokes. sliding one of your unpainted nails around the edge of his cuticle to catch a smudge.

you say "there you go :)"

he nods, seems pretty unaffected by the whole thing. just indulging you, it's a good captain thing to do. fun is allowed sometimes as a little treat.

if you catch him looking down at that one painted pinky nail in thought, in meetings, running his thumb over it in thought, no you didn't.

GHOST balks. acts like that's a stupid question. this is a lie.

even if you shrug and say okay, your loss, he feels kinda tingly about it in the stomach for a minute.

but if you were to just... maybe reach over and pull his hand in anyway, he wouldn't stop you.

he just lets you paint his nails. all of them. just sits there like it's not happening.

activates the monkey grooming part of his brain. not only are you doing a nice thing for him for no reason, you're touching him.

like, you're holding his hand almost. that shit is intimate.

his touch-starved ass starts having pavlovian reactions to the smell of nail polish after that.

GAZ says yeah. asks you to show him.

you lean in and show him the hand you're working on.

when you pull his hand over to do his, he pulls an uno reverse. flips your hand over in his.

plucks the nail polish brush out of your hand and starts painting the thumbnail of your non-dominant hand.

he's just doing it as an excuse to have your hand in his. he does not deny it when you point this out. no, he's not letting go.

his grip is secure. you protest and he counters by asking you how long it takes to dry. how many layers. if this is your favorite color. how to clean up that dot he just made on your fingertip.

he is so coolheaded about it that he flusters you the more you try to argue. you eventually have to just shut up and let him work. and answer his questions.

he is smirking.

after that, he makes a point to grab your hand whenever you're not wearing gloves and check your nails. if they're chipped, he quips it's time for him to fill you in.

SOAP says sure >:)

do not trust him. this is a mistake.

the minute you scoot over to pick his hand up, he yanks you over and wrestles you to the floor.

pot of nail polish? spilled. your freshly painted nails? ruined. done for.

you should've known. like this is seriously your fault. you know him.

he gets your nail polish on his fingers by accident. then happily smudges it wherever he can reach. 

he loves wrestling :) and playing too rough on purpose

eventually he will apologize for ruining your manicure.

helps you repaint them. you're awed when he does a better job than you could.

he has steady hands. part of his demo skillset. and he likes sketching, so

you don't have to clean up any of the nails he paints.

he even uses your detail brush to draw a little something on your accent nail to remind you of him. you think it's just something to make up for his bullshit, but now whenever he sees it (and that thumbprint of nail polish he left on the back of your shoulder and didn't tell you) he feels like he signed you <3

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[quarterlifekitty]

jerking off + rampant escapism + breeding frame talk —> thinking about john price fucking me doggy with my legs restrained in his medical chair stirrups (the flat kind for your calves tbh)

the rest of the task force may get a demo

(he’s not a doctor, he just has the chair in his house… freak!)

So this is based on a prospect fic I read a long time ago, I’ll link it if I can find it but uhhh

Imagine a light dystopian/apocalyptic AU where most of the world population has been rendered sterile due to radiation and chemical pollutants, as well as a low quality of life.

And in a world like that, anyone with above average virility/fertility is taken and kept in state of the art facilities— what remains of science and government is devoted almost completely to halting the rapidly approaching death of the human race. These individuals are not hard to find— they typically become central figures in their community or are used as bargaining chips.

You’ve been at the facility for a little while, as has Price. You’re typically paired with him for breeding sessions— you have a reputation for being difficult to work with. You came from harsh conditions and have the temperament of a skittish mare. Price is the only one who knows how to handle you— your vitals have to be within a certain range before the session can proceed.

So when the new blood comes in, who better to show them how it’s done? Gaz and Soap are chomping at the bit to take a crack at it, seeing how you quiver and flinch when Price soothes his hand over your ass, just keeping a comforting, solid touch. Your legs spread in the stirrups.

“Gotta talk ‘em through it— sensitive little thing, this one. One of the best ways to avoid a pulse spike.”

He reaches beneath you, just tenderly thumbing at your clit, sliding his cock between your folds to gather up some of your honey and slick himself up. The sound it makes is diabolically erotic— especially to men who’ve only really had quick, partially clothed flings.

“There, darl’— shhh. Such a good girl f’me. Got you drippin’ again, honey. Bet the boys can practically taste it on the air— smells so fuckin’ good. Nice and ready for this cock, hm?”

You hum placidly and push yourself against him— a signal that you’re as ready as you can be. Price aims himself and slides home— purely for instructional purposes. He could find his way into you blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back. He strokes slow, deep, and steady— the way that lulls you.

“C’mon, take a closer look. See that?” He spreads your lips just a little bit to show how your cunt quivers and pulses, leaking more arousal onto his shaft. “That’s a happy little partner. Vitals in range, more than sufficiently aroused and lubricated… About as breedable as they get. You keep ‘em on track to an orgasm, and you’ll get your first conception in no time.”

[thesportsprgirl]

Since Lando is involved, there's of course a particular narrative that has popped up around his Monster release and which other drivers deserve it more, so I'm going to get on my professional soap box once again because oh my god shut the fuck up already.

My creds: dual BS in Business Analytics and Marketing. MA in Strategic Communication (thesis on sports PR in the social media age). MBA with a sports economics coursework emphasis. Consultant working in corporate partnerships in a variety of sports, including motorsport.

Based on what I've seen today, people have no idea how much work goes into securing personal sponsors. In order to get a personal sponsorship deal, you and your team have to pitch the sponsor and demonstrate the value that it will bring to their business through things like DATA and RESEARCH. Engagement metrics, impressions, reach, products sold, brand recognition, return on investment, etc.

If a McLaren sponsor does a personal sponsorship of Lando as well, it's because his team pitched and demonstrated that the metrics bear out that it would be worth their money. It's not like oh let's throw money at this kid bc VIBES. Or bc Zak Brown says we had to. I keep seeing people implying that they just picked him on a whim, when things like this take ages to decide, with a ton of data, a ton of research, and a ton of really smart people analyzing it before making the call.

You have to show a sponsor the reasons that they should work with you and why it's worth their money. Lando and Quadrant have done that. And it's a fuckton of work to not only get them, but to deliver the results to retain them. Some of those results are in the form of social media engagement that they've gotten from Lando and his brands likely before the drink was even contracted.

Identifying sponsors, pitching and securing their money, etc. is a multi-billion dollar industry that requires a ton of work, data analysis, content testing, focus group testing, etc. The people saying "it should have been _____" clearly either have a personal bias or don't understand the level of personal brand you have to have to get this sort of a deal.

Lando has larger reach, more engagement, recognizable brands with very passionate followings, etc. when compared to some of the other drivers people are bringing up here. He's selling out merch collection after merch collection after merch collection, and that is not true of 90% of the other drivers on the grid. He sold so many tickets to Landostand that they quite literally BUILT ANOTHER GRANDSTAND. And sold that one out, too! These are things that come with a ton of value to sponsors. Sponsors are seeking out his audience based on demographics. It's not some sort of conspiracy, it's business.

Right now, there are a couple of drivers that are LEAGUES above the others when it comes to the effort they've put into developing their personal brand, ability to drive product, and relevancy within high disposable income and retail-spending fan demographics (Lando over indexes with four key demos: young women, highly educated women, queer men, families with children). Averaged across these "big spender demos," Lando is in the top 2. I can say that based on the data I have at my fingertips.

tl;dr - Monster is looking to sell product. Data says Lando Norris sells product because people actually like him very much.

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about price putting his hat on the boys' heads

cw war guilt, self harm through working out

it's only happened once or twice with each of them, only when they're on the brink and safe enough for price to let himself soften

🧼

the first time it happens to soap is on his first demo mission as a corporal; the first time he's been in charge of the planning the rig and the first time he’s close enough to see the human fallout of the explosion he worked so hard on and realises how often it means a slow and messy death

he knows they're the enemy; knows if it wasn't them, it would be him, then the long line of civilians at his back that he stands so strong to protect. he knows that

but that doesn't stop the screaming echoing in his mind, doesn't rid the memory of burning bodies trying to crawl away from their signed deaths

signed by him

he's sitting on the concrete outside the barracks, trying to get the cold to leech the remnants of the fire from his blood that his ice cold shower couldn’t douse. he jumps at the feel of a leg pressing against his side and looks up at price as he leans back against the wall, his hands cupped around a cigarette

soap flinches at the sparks coming from his lighter and looks away, his knees creeping up tighter to his chest

"it gets easier," price rumbles above him, exhaling a long breath and the comforting acrid scent of smoke spills around him

he shifts uneasily and pretends it's not to get closer. "i don't think that makes me feel better, sir,” he admits

"never said it would," he shrugs with the ease of a man who's had this same conversation a hundred times and will have it a hundred more. "just that it does."

soap sniffles then growls at himself, harshly scraping his wrist over his face

a light weight drops on his head and he stifles a gasp as price's hat falls low over his reddened eyes, hiding him from the prying gaze of the world

"you'll be alright, son," he promises and soap's lips tremble. he presses them tight together and follows price's hand as he guides his face into the side of his knee, cupping his jaw and holding him close as he shakes apart

"you'll be alright."

🧢

gaz doesn't crave softness when he messes up; doesn't want forgiveness or assurance. he wants blood; blood shed for blood that shouldn't have been lost

the punching bag is shining by the time price walks into the gym; shining yet also muted where his blood’s had the time to dry and stain, his knuckles torn to shreds

gaz' fist almost slips off the bag and he clicks his tongue. "you gonna keep makin' that a biohazard or do you want to do something actually worthwhile?"

his lip kicks up in a snarl and he sends a glare over his shoulder. "what?"

"think medical's got enough bodies, don't you?" he asks and a dangerous stillness fills the air

gaz shoves off the bag, knuckles dripping onto the mats. "you wanna add one more?"

price quirks an eyebrow, so nonchalant that it just makes him angrier; blood boiling in his veins. "come on, then."

he stalks onto the sparring mats and price barely blinks before he's attacking; throwing wild punches, eyes a hundred miles away

back in beirut

where they had to pull their team out in pieces because gaz missed the suicide bomber launching himself out of the rubble

price dodges each desperate strike, loose and sloppy and nowhere near gaz’ usual level of skill. he doesn't hit back once and gaz' faces twists with each miss, sweat flying off him as his grunts turn into growls, turn into screams as he throws himself at him

price ducks and snatches his hat off his head, slapping it into gaz' face to blind him and drives him back into the mats

he gags as his lungs seize, his air is forced out of him; leaving him to heave harsh breaths that stick in the fabric of the hat. the humid dark closes in on him, forcing him to focus on his breaths so he doesn't throw up or pass out; forcing him to stay within his body instead of drowning in another country

price's hand is heavy behind it, keeping it trapped over his face. "are you done?" he asks, not even breathless

gaz pants, his whole body tingling, and his fingers dig harder into his face

"are you done?" he insists

he swallows dry, suddenly aware of the exhaustion sapping at his limbs, the pain in his hands, the tightness in his throat. "i'm done," he rasps

price relaxes but doesn't remove his hand or push him to get up. they sit on the mats for a while, price's weight and the dark anchoring gaz to the here and now

💀

contrary to popular belief, ghost doesn't hate family days

he doesn't glare at the droves of civilians entering the base, doesn't stand as a spectre of death and grief over the rookies running into the arms of their families on one of the most important days of their career. he doesn't begrudge the safety and love they feel from coddling mothers and embarrassingly proud fathers, from laughing siblings and sticky-fingered children

he remembers his own graduation too well to want to take it from them

he stands in his dress blues through the speeches, his neck gaiter hiding less than he'd like but at ease with the compromise he and price reached. he looks over the tearful family members as name after name gets called, takes careful note of the ones who are clapped for less than the others, and lines up with the other officers as they wait for the tap out

one by one, the graduates get released by their loved ones; no longer standing attention as a recruit but embracing them as a private

just as he's done every year, ghost checked their records to ensure they all had someone coming for them; he's never let a single one stand in the field waiting for someone who will never come. it's rare that his diligence is necessary but he's never let them feel any shame for it; telling them to keep their heads high as he pats their shoulder

he's not needed today and he watches as they're slowly released and disperse, all with a reminder of why they've worked so hard and who they’re here to protect

it's quiet on base that night; soldiers take any chance to celebrate and a graduation is nothing to sneeze at. ghost stands out in the field, out in the gentle quiet. his hands sit folded behind him as he looks up at the stars and he doesn't flinch as a voice sounds behind him

"been a long time since you could be called a rookie," price says, falling into place beside him

ghost hums. "longer for you, i’d say."

he huffs a laugh. "cheeky shite," he snickers. "that hasn't changed; bloody twig of a thing too big for his boots, angry at the world and ready to prove it wrong."

"plenty changed to make up for it," he huffs, his breath disturbing his gaiter

"lot more's stayed the same," price counters and steps in front of him, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he squares his shoulders

"lieutenant riley," he starts and ghost almost rolls his eyes. "you've shown exemplary courage in the face of adversity, gone above and beyond the call of duty and expressed great leadership in your dedication to your team and the men in your charge. congratulations, soldier; you've earned it."

ghost swallows thickly and refuses to admit to the shine threatening his eyes. "thank you, sir."

price smiles and plucks his hat off his head, placing it on his and pats his head; brushing his thumb over his temple

"come on, son; you've waited long enough."

[pcconsumer]

…… (Theodore Would Not get It)

Beyond Eden you will await me

[anonmousegosqueak]

ghost sneaks critters onto base

random cat he found near the garage? in his room or jacket. that cat is his friend now.

bunch of ducklings in a box next to the bakery? those lil dudes will be coming with him thank you very much

random stray dog runnin around in the forest outside base? it has now become his mission to befriend that dog.

how does he do this without requits or memebers of the 141 noticing?

he simply denys that he knows any of these animals

price: whered that cat come from?

ghost: no idea sir

Price: "Simon. Did you steal a pigeon?"

Ghost with a pigeon in one hand, feeding the bird seeds from the other: "no. what pigeon? I don't have any pigeons, you're probably drunk."

He doesn't name any of them either, nor baby-talk them. Soap once caught him holding the tiniest kitten he's ever seen, just gently holding the thing in one hand and talking in his full on Lt. voice, quieter but not softer.

Ghost: "You are very small."

Cat: "mrrp?"

Ghost: "..."

Ghost: "C'mon, let's get you some food. Help you get a bit bigger. Probably been surviving off of nothing but scraps..."

He proceeded to hide the kitten in his pocket, making his way to his office where he has all types of pet treats/animal food in general hidden. Didn't even acknowledge Soap, just walked past him with a tiny little meow coming from his pocket.

The sweetest time though was during a demo, already pissed off and scaring the shit out of the poor newbies.

Suddenly, literally in the middle of something, he stops everyone. Without explaining why, he moves the entire demo off of the field and indoors. It's only after Price confronted him that he explained he noticed how close they were close to a bunny den that he knew just had babies and that he didn't wanna upset/accidentally hurt them.

Ghost had been tracking a group of rabbits living near base, feeding them occasionally but not enough to mess with their natural instincts and make them dependent.

So yeah, modern day Snow White that guy. Gaz actually shared photos of his turtle back at home, and next time they were leaving he gave Gaz a little box full of preserved turtle treats.

Ghost: "For Chompy."