#cod notebook

[injestedsoap]

if you asked soap to put on a mask and chase you through the woods he'd do it so fast. honestly you wold barely even need to ask, this is enrichment for him.

[sketchyfandomgirl]

Thinking of Ghost carting around a tiny notebook, it’s basically a keychain that hangs from his belt loop. The kicker? It’s cute. Like, uncharacteristically so, for a man like Ghost that is.

It’s fucking pink. With goddamn glitter and a cat on it. With a small, pink pen to match!

Everyone who’s seen the keychain all think they’re having a damn stroke seeing the stupid thing for the first time. It’s so small, like if was meant for a kid, so what the hell is a Lieutenant doing with a fucking keychain notebook?

The purpose is debated to this day. To keep track of all he kills in the field? Marking losses? Reminders for the future? Fucking journaling his feelings?? No one even know if Ghost ever uses it, but are well aware that the man is strangely protective of his notebook, like some sort of rabid dog. snapping at anyone who tries to take it, and god forbid someone touches it. At least they know he’s aware of the pink notebook.

But the real reason Ghost even has it? Why would he even carry such a dainty, childish thing like that? How could he even manage to write so small with such large, almost clumsy fingers?

It’s where he writes his jokes.

It’s his fucking personal joke book.

[writer-fennec]

The 141 and stationery:

Ghost:

Has a skeleton themed notebook that has clearly seen better days, but it has many tiny stylized mini colored skulls and it was gifted from Soap

Has a bic pen, the orange ones and lost the cap. Is somehow able to finish his pens before losing them and has a box of like 50 bic pens, all arange with blue caps and all in a drawer in his desk

Uses the most basic looking normal black and yellow HB pencils, those in a box oflike 10 at a time you find for half the price in september and almost always finishes his pencils when they are almost still big enough to be used but unusable for his comfort (big hands problems)

To organize his notes he just puts paper scotch over the thing and writes with a pencil what it is. Then when he needs to hand it out he carefully removes it and heands it to Price (sometimes there are slightly ruined edges, but nothing like a paper shredded in half)

Soap

Has at least four notebooks, one for actual work, one for quick sketches, one with which he can go on OPs because its really small and easy to hide in a tac vest and on for journaling or just stupid ideas and reminders

Has some spring pens and some normal ones, has a fountain pen he mainly uses for inking his drawings when he actually puts effort in them, sometimes he just steals some of those he finds on the ground (usually Kyle's), when he goes into an art supply sho he has to stop himself from buying the whole inking section because some of those inkingpens have such small tips that he could draw such small details that he would need a magnifying glass to see them

Has a couple of old but still functioning mecanichal pencils that he loves to this day (neat and precise lines and lineart with no ink) and a whole set of varying hardness (4B to 4H) so he knows how to do his shading pretty well

To organise his notes he uses coloured metal clips, sometimes post-its, usually he categorizes his work by colour of the metal clip+ position of the metal clip (let him ADHD without judging, he is a little undiagnosed baby) and sometimes makes little butterfly origami to pit on the edges in case something is really important or he needs extra instructions on that paper

Gaz:

Has a couple of notebooks, one for work one for personal reminders and stuff like that, usually they are monochrome and colours that are similar (ex turquoise and teal) so he can go around with one or the other and nobody will ask a thing since those colours in different lighting's look similar

Spring pens, normal pens (usually bic) and also some fountain pens are his most used, uses them in different contexts and usually one of the most organised people you can find with his stationary

Has one (1) mechanical pencil that is cheap plastic but surprisingly it matches his notebooks and uses normal HB pencils (sometimes you might find him use IKEA pens and he will deny even knowing that IKEA gives out free pencils) probably has some variability in hardness but just and F and and H1 for the sake of having a different feeling on the paper every once in a while

To organise his notes he uses post it's and coloured semi-trasperent small sticky notes, he is one of the best organised ones and also one of the few actually able to find what he searching for

Price:

Has one BIG notebook where he keeps everything all at once, he can't bother buying the smaller ones (because their surface you can write/£ per surface ratio is not as good) but sometimes he gets a small one to take notes while on an OP

Has one fountain pen for important documents and the rest are plastic transparent bic or other types of normal ink pen, surprisingly has also some water resistant pens

Doesn't even bother with mechanical pencils, good old wood (may or may not have stolen some lf Ghost's pencils), has 2 hardnesses (HB and 2B) he uses them regularly and knows when to use each

Organizer? Price? Yeah, he keeps everything separed in folders in his office and classified inside his mind, that man knows everything in his office by heart

What would you add?

@bone-trash what would you add?

Ghost's notebook for those wondering:)

[capt-zjaybird]

He just lovs his brother

[untitledpieceofsoap]

WAIT, SILLY SKETCHES.

[tired-vampire1o9]

Started having a panic attack during orientation and so like a normal person I started drawing Ghost (and somehow it did help)

[toxooz]

omg i literally love wheelbitten as a comic and ur art is amazing

random question but how long have u been drawing as an artist and do u have advice.............

thank uuuu and I've been drawin my ass off since I could hold a pencil and I'm 24 (25 next month) now so this shit wasn't overnight by any means lmfao idk the way i did it was have A Thing that you like drawing and just draw the fuck outa it and eventually you'll get better for sure whether it be the desire to get better at drawing said thing makes you do research and study something to become better at it or just literal muscle memory from drawing said thing so much. I had lil spouts of taking time to get better at specific things like anatomy, shading, ect. by studying it but overall i just subconsciously got better by mentally picking up new things everytime i draw and analyzing the world around me. Even recently i got to see that with drawing tactical gear (that ive never really drawn before and never wanted to draw in my life) soley bc i just REALLY fukkin love Ghost and Konig

i went from being terrified and intimidated of drawing tactical gear (even trying to put a gun in front of it as if that was any better lmfao) it used to be vague as hell and my brain would shut down just trying to look at the references(i remember having a ''shit man am i even gunna be able to draw these characters???'' moment of dread the first time i was drawing Konig pffft) to absolutely loving drawing tactical gear and seeing how much more detailed i can make it with every new drawing, so a complete 180 but that's bc im just totally obsessed with the characters and drawing is how i express that sO thats mainly what i mean by just have a thing that you love and want to draw and the rest should follow with time, patience, and practice. I think it's about training your brain and motivation to pick up on details or a certain way something looks in lighting (or lack thereof) bc my brain is probably wired a certain way after art being like a centerpiece of my development to the point to where drawing is just What I Do and at this point if i dont draw for even a few days i start getting vaguely antsy and fidgety it's crazy lmfao SO idk if this is worded like i need it to but yeah art and the act of drawing can be frustrating as hell but it should be enjoyable and rewarding above all else at the end of the day!

[ask-sgtcrow]

Homework for today:

Write a ten sentence essay about why you love Gaz so much.

- 🧢

i haven’t done homework in years and i don’t plan to fuck off 👿

[sabr0nk]

The Killer🔪

Cape Cod, Massachusetts

7/20-24/2023

@mars-onthemoon

[ll-bowman]

Hand writing fanfiction for personal use

With permission I am hand writing my favorite completed fanfiction into notebooks.

Spiral I'm thinking is for smaller one shots or drabbles and the blue book is for larger completed works. Currently hand writing @391780 's completed work The Arrangement with permission

Then planning to hand write some of @deadbranch 's incredible work

[injestedsoap]

inspired by the person who i guess is my muse at this point, @femalefemur.

18+ MDNI

reader beware you're in for-- nongendered reader with breasts and a pussy, role play, domesticity, rimming, pussy eating, a no mess cream pie, and pegging.

Your John MacTavish, your sweet Soap, was not stupid. He was, in fact, one of the smartest people you have ever known. Your favorite memory, to this day, was of him, fantastically drunk, reeling off every periodic element in order while balancing a full glass of beer on his forehead. He had finished the table and pounded the beer, obviously, and you had gotten contact drunk from the sloppy wet kiss he gave you. No, Soap was whip smart…. Most of the time. Because smart as he was, Soap was also afflicted with what your friend affectionately called ‘cum brain’ which is to say when he was horny John MacTavish had cum for brains and it was leaking out of his ears. 

And, now, look… you never felt good about exploiting this fact about him… but at the end of the day if it worked it worked, and it’s not like you just left him high and dry! Sometimes you wanted pancakes in bed and, you know, if you promised a good boy a blow job in exchange for brekky well that was just what being in a relationship was, really. 

You sighed, looking at the bathroom floor. You each did your part in the apartment. You didn’t have rotating chores or anything, but Soap didn’t mind laundry and you didn’t mind dishes and whenever the trash was full it was taken out but whoever was there at the time. You both hated sweeping but a Roomba from Kyle had solved that issue. The biggest issue was the bathroom. You both kept it clean enough but you couldn’t remember the last time you had given it a proper deep clean. You crouched down, looking at the dirty tiles and pulled a face. You really didn’t want to do this. You should, this was your crusade but… well maybe if you got the smaller stuff done you could talk Soap into the floor. 

You stood, arching your back and feeling it pop. Okay, you’d get started on laundry and have most of the chores done before he got back from base today and then you would see if you could talk him into a good grout scrubbing over the weekend. You picked up the hamper and saw the bright red jockstrap on top. Looking around the apartment out of habit you ensured the coast was clear before plucking the underwear from the hamper and inhaling your boyfriend’s dirty gym smell. You’d missed having him home. It was then, nose deep in the jockstrap, that you had an idea. You grinned, biting your lip and dropped the pair back into the hamper before heading to the washing machine, you had a trap to lay. 

You let out a happy giggle as Soap came in that evening, tossing his keys in the bowl and picking you up, spinning you around as he kissed you. You’d seen each other less than 9 hours ago but he’d been on deployment for nearly four months and it was worth celebrating every evening he was home as far as either of you were concerned. 

“You smell nice,” He said into your neck, snuffling at you, “Oh, did my sweet thing do laundry?” 

You kissed him and gave his mohawk a playful tug, “It’s Friday night,” You said, peppering him with kisses, “No chores tonight, just sex,” 

Soap made a noise in the back of his throat and you shivered, “Aye, I think we can do that,” He said before tossing you over his shoulder and delivering a loud smack to your ass, carrying you back to the bedroom. 

Trap baited, bait taken, time to snap it shut. 

Saturday morning rolled around warm and lazy. Soap was a heavy sleeper at the best of times and after four orgasms and a prolonged prostate massage you didn’t think he’d even move before 10. You kissed his slack sleeping mouth before wriggling out from under his arm and making your way to the laundry room. You started up the dryer again to get the wrinkles out of the clothes and then padded over to the kitchen, getting the kettle on for tea, starting the coffee pot, and pulling out some eggs and bacon. If all went according to plan, your boy was going to need the energy. 

About a half hour later a very naked Soap came plodding into the kitchen. He flopped over the back of your chair, nosing into your neck and nibbling on it before dragging himself over to the kitchen counter, pouring coffee and plating up some breakfast. He pulled his chair next to yours at the bar, resting his cheek on top of your head as he ate a strip of bacon and waited for his coffee to cool. When the dryer beeped he groaned and started to get up but you gave him a tap on the stomach and instead extracted yourself from under him and headed to get the clothes out of the dryer. 

“Thank ye, bonnie,” He mumbled, blinking his sleepy blue eyes and giving you a sweet smile. You grabbed him by the cheeks and kissed the bacon grease off his lips. 

You folded the laundry while Soap sleepily ate his breakfast. You made a careful effort to make sure the red jock didn’t enter your hands until you were sure that he had drunk at least half his mug of coffee and then you let out a little laugh. 

“Here, your outfit for the day,” You said, laying the jockstrap on the table in front of him. 

“Ooooh!” He said, his eyes waking up a little more as he accepted the ‘outfit’, he stood from the table and pulled them on, doing a little turn so you could see him from all sides. “How do I look?” 

“Very sexy,” You replied with a big grin. 

“Not,” Soap tapped his chin thoughtfully, “‘Incredibly’ sexy,” 

“Incredibly sexy,” You laughed, your palms were sweaty, you had to play this just right, “There’s only one thing that could make you not look sexy, honestly,” 

Soap clutched his heart, feigning hurt, “Bullshit, I can make anything sexy,” 

“Really?” You asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. 

“Oh aye,” Soap put a hand on his hip, god he really did look good. “Go on, we’ve got all weekend, what am I making sexy.” 

“I do not think,” You said, stepping closer to poke him in the chest, “You, or anyone, could make scrubbing grout look sexy,” 

“Mmh,” He said, covering his hand with yours and looking down at you, a smoulder in his sleepy, sexed out eyes. You held them, this was the moment, he was either going to call you on it or– Soap leaned in, his breath a mix of coffee and bacon and sleep, it was rancid and you loved it anyway, “You’re on,” He whispered before kissing you hard. 

And the trap snapped shut. 

There was a knock on the door and you looked up from the email you were sending, you checked the time and frowned. You hopped off the chair you were sitting in and walked toward the door, wrapping your silk robe around you as you did. 

“I’m sorry I think you have the–” you started as you opened the door before trailing off as you took in the tall man in the baggy jeans, stained white wife pleaser, and a low slung tool belt standing in the doorway. “C-can I help you?” You asked, startled and very aware of the fact that you were in nothing but a short silk robe and very expensive lingerie. 

“Aye,” He said, his voice a low Scottish rumble, “I think ye called for some,” he made a big show of adjusting his cock, “Help with the pipes,” 

You had to bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing as you looked up at him, “Oh, um, yes, please, if you could come in and help me with, uh, pipe,” 

Soap came into the apartment with such exaggerated swagger you had to duck behind him to stifle your laughter. “Please, uh, um,” You schooled your face into something resembling serious and stepped around him, “The bathroom is right this way.” as you walked Soap reached out to tug up your robe and you let out an offended gasp, smacking his hand away. “Just because my boyfriend is out of town on business doesn’t mean you can just grab anything you like,” You said primly, shooting him a dirty look over your shoulder. 

Soap let out a noise you didn’t even know how to classify and spun you around, pulling you in by the belt of your robe and running his hand down your back to cup your full ass, “Pretty shite boyfriend, leaving you all alone dressed like this needing help with,” He squeezed your ass before saying “Pipe,” and popping the ‘P’. 

You shuddered and it wasn’t entirely put on this time, you reached out to touch his chest, splaying your hand over the broad muscles and bit your lip, “Well… how about you see if you can get the pipe fixed… and then we’ll talk.” 

Soap leaned in, he had brushed his teeth before changing and his mouth was much nicer smelling now, “Let’s see what we can do about that pipe problem,” 

He let you go and swaggered his way over to the bathroom, you stood back and watched him turn on and off the sink, and then the tub, and then get down on his hands and knees, arching his back and giving you a peek of the top of his jockstrap over the waistline of his jeans. You bit your thumb, you had to admit it wasn’t not not sexy. 

He spread his legs, arching his back and shoving his round ass out, just the way you liked him when you broke out the strap. “Alright, I think I see the problem,” He looked over his shoulder back at you, you bit your lip and looked back, “But I’m gonna need the room.” 

You perched on the edge of your tub with a glass of wine Soap had insisted you needed and watched your boyfriend in nothing but a tool belt and the red jockstrap scrub the tile of your small bathroom. And you weren’t going to lie… it was extremely sexy. For some reason his maintenance man character had decided he needed to strip down to his underwear, you weren’t keeping track of the reasoning, something about his clothes being dirty and not wanting to get the floors dirty while he was cleaning them. He was committed to the tool belt though. He also needed to keep you in sight line of his ass the entire time. His round, hairy, ass, flexing as he scrubbed the tile, his tight pink hole winking at you with every full body scrub. You crossed your legs and took a sip of the wine. 

Soap pushed himself up, you watched his hole disappear and were still staring when you realized Soap had turned to look at you, his eyes mischievous. “Alright, well, looks like you should be good to go, love,” 

“Oh?” You asked, licking the wine from your lips as you raked your eyes over him “Am I good to go?” 

Soap gave a half grin and crawled over, rising up over you and stepping into the tub. You let out a little giggle, setting aside the glass of wine and laying back in the tub as he gripped the edges and leaned in over you with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “What ever will your boyfriend think?” Soap purred low in his chest.” 

“Oh I don’t know,” You replied, letting the robe fall open and giving Soap a beautiful view of your lingerie clad body, “he’s not as good a boy as you,” 

Oh and that worked. You watched his nipples peak and his cheeks flush, if there was one thing about Soap he loved being a good boy. “A good boy am I?” He asked, trying to keep the character going. 

“So good,” You said, reaching up and stroking his cock over the rapidly filling jockstrap “Coming in and fixing my pipes like that,” You squeezed his clothed cock “How about I fix yours now?” 

Soap did his best to not scramble out of the tub and instead climb out with as much dignity and swagger as he could muster. He then reached down, taking you by the hand and pulling you up, out, and into his chest. He reached down and grabbed you by the ass, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“You should take off your tool belt,” You whispered, your heels bouncing off his round ass as you tried to navigate not getting grease from a wrench on your panties. 

“I will when we get to the bedroom,” Soap whispered back before carrying you off to the bedroom. “So,” He said, dropping you onto the bed and then unbuckling his tool belt, letting it fall to the floor as carefully as he was capable. “How are you going to reward your good maintenance man, eh?” 

You giggled and crooked a finger. Soap crawled onto the bed, pausing briefly to shuck the jock strap, before leaning in and nosing your pussy sweetly. He kissed and sucked on your stomach before kissing up your chest until he was sucking and mouthing at your neck. You moaned, raking your fingers through his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“I love your ass,” You moaned, rubbing your ankles over it, “Please let me have your ass,” 

Soap moaned loudly against your neck. It had been a while since you had given him a good pegging and after being teased with his tight hole for an hour today you were dying to stretch him around your strap. 

“Please,” He grunted. 

You pulled him up and kissed him hard before rolling the two of you around so you were on top. He reached up, squeezing your breasts over your bra and surging up to kiss your chest. His cheeks were flushed hot and you pushed him between your soft breasts for a moment, enjoying the feel of his hot face and his hotter mouth on your skin before pulling back to get your strap and a bottle of lube out of the side drawer. 

“Hands and knees,” You said, your cheeks as red as his. 

Soap barely needed to be told, rolling over onto his front and then getting up on his hands and knees, arching his back, his cheeks spread enticingly.  

You leaned in, unable to help yourself, and gave his hole a deep, sloppy kiss. 

Soap let out a whimpering moan and you gave his ass a swat before pulling back and strapping on your harness. You watched as he winked his pretty pink hole at you and grinned, popping open the cap on the lube and, with no warning at all, poured a healthy glob right down his crack. 

Soap let out the cutest little noise at the feeling of cool lube sliding down his cheeks and before it could drip down onto the sheets you scooped it back up with your finger, sliding your index finger in up to the second knuckle in one go. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” He panted, his character fully forgotten as he pressed back onto your finger, forcing it deeper into his tight hole. 

“Good boy,” You cooed, acting like you weren’t just as affected by this as him, “Such a good boy, looking so sexy cleaning the grout for me,” 

“To-oooooo-ldja,” Soap moaned, bearing down as you slid a second finger into him and then quickly worked in a third. “Can make bloody anything sexy,” 

“You told me,” You agreed, twisting your fingers and grinning at the yelp from Soap as you rubbed his prostate. You were probably imagining that it felt a little tender after all the love it got last night. You leaned in and kissed the slope of his back, working your way up to kiss his broad back and rub your cheek against his soft body hair before rising up slightly and rubbing the tip of your silicone cock against his hole. “Ready for me?” You asked. 

“Been ready,” Soap grunted. 

You fucked in in one smooth motion and Soap yowled. 

“Cheeky.” You said before snapping your hips and getting to work. 

You worked your hips as you plastered yourself over his back, kissing his warm skin sloppily and reaching down to work his cock, sliding his foreskin over his heavy shaft in time with your thrusts. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Soap chanted over and over as you fucked him and tugged him in time. 

“I love you so much,” You moaned into his back, your sweat dripping down from your face to join his sweat pooling on his back, you leaned in and licked a stripe up his spine, “So fucking good to me, so fucking hot on your knees for me,” 

“I’m your big fucking handy man,” Soap babbled, “Your handy man, big strong– unf!” Every inch of Soap tensed up and lightning fast you grabbed the base of his cock, stopping his climax as he yelled and you pulled out. Taking off the harness as fast as you could and then quickly rolling Soap into his back and dropping your dripping wet cunt onto his throbbing shaft. You both moaned and you leaned down, panting into his mouth, and managed to whisper, “No mess.” The way his pupils blew out the color in his eyes told you he understood what you were saying and in four quick thrusts he was cumming deep inside you. You barely had time to enjoy the sensation before Soap was rolling you up onto your shoulders and he was between your thighs, burying his face in your pussy as he licked and sucked on your clit, his own cum coating his face along with your juices. 

“Soap!” You screeched, locking your legs around his head and burying your fists in his hair as you curled in on yourself and seized in a white hot orgasm. You were barely connected to your body as Soap lovingly licked you through it, you had to all but pull him away when the sensations were finally too much. 

You both lay there on the surprisingly clean sheets as you panted and let the sweat dry on your flushed bodies. Soap’s large hand fumbled across the bed to find yours, tugging it to rest on his stomach as he idly played with your fingers. 

“I have a suspicion,” He said, his voice raw. 

“Mhm?” You murmured.

“That you just wanted the grout cleaned.” 

You grinned. 

[wigoutlet]

[amazingdealsblog]

Look at this... 👀

Look at this... 👀 https://pin.it/4rxMra7

[nicka-nell]

How they act when they have a crush on you

Pairing: Atsumu x, Suna x, Kuroo x, Ushijima x, Daichi x, Hinata x, Iwaizumi x, Oikawa x reader

Warning: fluff, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 (end)

A total bully. Constantly in teasing mode.

Whether it’s in class and he throws little paper balls at your head, pulls your hair while you’re tying your shoes in the gym, or “borrows” your homework to copy it and give you your notebook back with a scrabbly drawing next to your exercises.

Atsumu takes every free opportunity to pick on you, thinking that you take it as a form of pleasant affection.

You’re chatting with some friends in sports class when you get hit in the back of the head with a ball. It wasn’t a powerful throw. In fact, you barely felt it, but you know immediately who the ball came from when you turn around with a grim expression and see the wide-grinning blond Miya brother running towards you. “Sorry sweetheart. But ya were standing in my throwing lane.” he grins and picks up the ball. Oh, how you’d love to hit him in the face with the ball.

After school you just want to go home, the umbrella is already open as it is pouring like hell, when you feel two strong hands snatching the umbrella from your hands. “Hey sweetheart, I’m sure ya won’t have a problem if I borrow the umbrella, will ya?” Atsumu smirks at you again, already holding the umbrella in his hands so that he doesn’t get wet. You’re next to him, but half your body still gets wet as you try to take the umbrella away from him. “Hey, I’m a damn superb athlete. Can’t risk it to get sick,” he complains, putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you towards him so that you don’t get completely wet. You walk home together for quite a while until Atsumu leads in the opposite direction to his own home. With your umbrella, of course. You can prepare yourself to arrive home soaked and chilled. Awesome.

Atsumu would never think of telling you that he has a crush on you. He assumes that you already know this and that you also have feelings for him, but are too shy to tell him.

When a guy invited you out for ice cream and you agreed, Atsumu complained to Osamu. Osamu first had to make it clear to him that you two are definitely not a couple and that you certainly don’t assume that he has feelings for you, because Atsumu is also just an asshole towards you.

Atsumu interrupts you sulking while you’re eating ice cream with the guy, completely ignores this dude and tells you that you shouldn’t eat ice cream with other guys because he likes you and it annoys him when you do things with other guys who aren’t him.

Suna is probably more of a secret, very laid-back admirer who takes things rather slowly.

He doesn’t behave any differently towards you in everyday life. That’s why it’s not obvious to outsiders that he has feelings for you. Even for you.

You’re in the same circle of friends. He’s not particularly jealous when you talk to other men. Possibly also because he knows exactly what he has to offer and is convinced of himself to a healthy degree.

But after a while, you notice that he’s more interested in you. He always likes your pictures on social media. Sometimes he comments on them with emojis. A fiery heart, or a smiley looking mischievously to the side, or even a smiley with heart eyes. Sometimes he also speaks to you directly about your pictures.

Rarely does he tease you.

“Saw your picture yesterday. Looked good,” he says calmly, his legs up against the wall as he lies on his back on the bed, his head hanging off the edge of it as he looks at his phone in his hands. You’re sitting on the floor with your back against his bed, still finishing up a few things for your group work for school, when you look sideways at him. “Thank you, that was with Tsumu. We played CoD,” you answer him. “A game date?” he replies with an almost arrogant look, still scanning you from his casual position as you shake your head and roll your eyes. Suna wouldn’t admit it, but deep down, he’s glad you denied his question.

Your free classes are for learning. But sometimes you use them to just relax, chat or do nothing. While one or two of you are studying in the school's common room, you approach Suna, who is sitting on a bench with Atsumu and Osamu. Both boys are looking at Suna’s phone, who’s playing a game, when you approach him and ask curiously what he’s doing. All three boys look at you before Suna grabs your hand and casually pulls you onto his lap while resting his head on your shoulder. His hands are around your waist while his phone is in his hands in front of you. “It’s a new mobile game that came out. It’s based on a webtoon,” he answers, still focused on his phone.

Suna would probably confess his feelings to you first. However, his confession is rather spontaneous.

For example, in a store when you buy some fruit sticks on the way back home and he also pays for your stick. Outside, you tell him that he didn’t have to do that and that you can pay for it yourself, but out of the blue, he just tells you that he did it because he likes you. “So what does it matter? I did it because I like you. So bad?”

Like Atsumu, Kuroo is someone who would tease you to get your attention. But not in that childish way with paper balls in your hair.

But at the same time, Kuroo would also help you and is very attentive.

In sports class, you are currently learning the basics of basketball - how to dribble, make a lay-up and so on - before your sports teacher tells you to practice on your own for the next 30 minutes. Kuroo grins at you and throws you the ball. “Do you think you can beat me in a one-on-one?” he smirks, knowing full well that you can’t. Nevertheless, you accept his challenge, start to play and quickly lose the ball. “You need to be less stiff. Try to move with the ball. And... try to keep the ball at about waist height when you dribble,” Kuroo says as he dribbles past you to make a smooth 3-pointer. 

You’re sitting on a bench in the shadows during your break. It’s a hot summer day and you just want to get somewhere where there’s air conditioning. “You should drink more. It’s pretty hot today and you’re not an oryx antelope that can go without water for long,” says Kuroo, who suddenly stands next to you at the bench and holds out a small bottle of water.

He always acts so tough around others, but he cares about the people who are important to him.

Would he tell you that he has feelings for you? Probably not, but at some point you would notice it yourself and ask him casually. 

If you asked him about it, he’d start off by rambling and beating around the bush, but then eventually admit to having feelings for you.

Ushijima would probably behave the same way towards you as he usually does. At least that’s what he thinks.

But you can actually see him looking in your direction from time to time and subconsciously observing you.

He also subconsciously thinks of you, asking Tendou, for example, whether he could imagine that you might also like certain things.

In class, you are all already in the classroom waiting for the teacher, while you talk to Semi about the new shop next to the school and Tendou tries to tell Ushijima about the latest manga he has read. Tendou quickly realizes that Ushijima isn’t paying any attention to him, but that his gaze is instead wandering toward you and Semi. “Wakatoshi? Were you even listening to me?” Ushijima barely visibly flinches, noticing that his thoughts were somewhere else when he looks over at Tendou again. “Can you lend me the magazine? They always have such interesting promotions on the last page,” he says, completely forgotten that his attention was still on you earlier. Unlike Tendou, who purses his lips and narrows his eyes.

“Uhhh, tell me, did you watch the new K-Drama series? The one with the lawyers and the forensic scientist? Mmmh, the lawyer’s secretary is sooo cute!” Tendou chants as he walks with Ushijima towards the gym for training. “No. Do you think Y/n would like the series? She likes watching these things, doesn’t she?” Ushijima asks dryly, not realizing that he’s only thinking about you again. “Mmm, I don’t know, maybe you two should watch the series,” Tendou replies, hoping to finally get a little more out of Ushijima, but he doesn’t respond to his statement anymore.

It would take so long for Ushijima to realize that he has feelings for you. Whether he finds out on his own, because he realizes that this rapid heartbeat is not because of his “suddenly worsening condition”, or because Tendou gives him a few clues to think about his feelings for you.

However, Ushijima would tell you as soon as he recognized it for himself. But not with a bouquet of flowers and a romantic dinner.

No, he would simply ask you at the next opportunity, if you were interested in him, because he is pretty sure that his interest in you goes beyond friendship. Not caring if you were alone or around friends during his confession.

Sawamura is a little gentleman. He would show his kind of affection through small things. The typical “act of kindness”.

Whether it’s opening the door, holding your school bag while you put on your jacket, or simply walking home together, even if it means a ten-minute diversions for him.

“Ah damn...” you curse quietly as you sit in your seat in the classroom and realise that you’ve forgotten your pencil case at home. “Dai-“ you’re turning around to ask Sawamura if he can lend you a pencil only to see him holding one out to you already, with a slight smile on his face. “Thank you.” You whisper quietly and turn back to the front.

You’re on your way home after a pretty exhausting day at school. All of you stayed a little longer in the school library today to study for your final exams. So it’s already dark when you go home and you’re upset about not bringing a jacket. “Here. Next time you should remember to pack something warm. You never know when it might rain and the temperature could drop,” Sawamura says calmly, holding out the jacket he wears for volleyball training. He himself is still wearing his school uniform jacket. After all, he doesn’t want to catch a cold. You gratefully accept the sports jacket and put it over your shoulders. Sawamura wouldn’t admit it, but he wouldn’t mind if you forgot your jacket next time as well, and wore his instead, because seeing you in his way too big jacket somehow makes his heart beat faster.

Sawamura would think long and hard about whether to confess his feelings to you, because he wouldn’t want to ruin the friendship between you. But in the end, he would be the one to confess his feelings to you first, in the hope that you would return them.

Unlike Ushijima, however, he would do it at a moment that suits him. For example, when the two of you are alone, on the way home together, in a quiet and laid-back environment and a relaxed atmosphere.

Hinata is so clumsy and although he tries to hide his feelings a little bit and keep them under control, even a blind man would understand how much he has a crush on you.

As soon as you enter the room, he gets all nervous and his vocabulary suddenly shrinks so much that it feels like it only consists of 30 words.

Even if Hinata appeared nervous towards you, he would never be someone who would tease you or have a cheeky remark on his lips. Nor would he ignore you. He would also be the cheerful and friendly whirlwind towards you, just a little awkward. He would try to support you, even if it was just carrying the bench in the gym together with you.

“H-hi,” Hinata stutters and turns away, glowing red in the face, as you smile at him and greet him too. “I’ve brought water for myself,” he says with a smile and holds out a water bottle to you. You give him an irritated look, but then giggle. “For you? Yes, that’s nice, but why are you giving it to me?” you ask and notice Hinata blushing again. He’s probably embarrassed right now. But you think it’s cute. “Eh, I mean for you. You. I’ve got my bottle here! See? It’s even full!” he says and reaches for the bottle in the side of his bag, wanting to shake it to show you that it’s full. But instead, he presses down on the bottle and splashes the water on his face. You giggle, but reach into your own gym bag and pull out a small towel to put on Hinata’s wet head so he can dry off. A gesture that is probably too much for his nerves right now.

Tired after his hard and long volleyball training with Kageyama, Hinata is just about to get on his bike and ride home when he sees you sitting at the bus stop in the dark. A little confused, he asks you what you are still doing here at this time of night when you tell him that you missed your bus."Then come on, I’ll drive you home!" he says with a cheerful smile and you don’t even have the chance to say no. Because you’re already sitting on the front of his handlebars while he pedals his bike and takes you home. He doesn’t seem to care that you live in the opposite direction to him and that it will take him even longer to get home, thanks to you. “Hold on tight, the Shouyou taxi is fast as lightning,” he says with a grin and drives you home.

With Hinata, it’s a fifty-fifty chance whether he confesses his feelings to you or not. Either he confesses them to you, but then because he babbles and the words just fall out of him with nervousness, or you tell him at some point that you have feelings for him.

If you are the one who confesses his feelings first, you can literally watch a fuse burn out in his head and how he is completely overwhelmed until he realizes what you have just told him.

Iwaizumi is similar to Sawamura. He would also shine through his act of kindness. Even if he would try to hide it coolly.

However, Iwaizumi also has a protective and slightly jealous side, especially when Oikawa gets the idea to flirt with you. He doesn’t like it when you feel uncomfortable or when other guys get too close to you.

“You shouldn’t carry such heavy things. You’ll damage your back,” Iwaizumi grumbles, before taking the bag with all the water bottles for the volleyball team from you and hanging it over his shoulder. “Hajime... I’m not five anymore... I can carry the bag by myself.” You answer him with a sigh. He’s a bit like your mum... far too caring. The only thing missing now is that he shouts after you in the morning to always bring a jacket so that you don’t freeze in the summer when it’s thirty degrees… “Never mind, I’ll carry the bag now...” he replies casually and turns his head away from you, but the tips of his reddish ears betray his coolness.

“Uuuhh my favorite manager is back” grins Oikawa, who runs up to you and hugs you as if you were best friends, but quickly lets go of you when he is hit in the back of the head with a ball. “Hey Shittykawa, leave her alone. We’re here to train, not to flirt with women. Especially not with our manager, you idiot!” Iwaizumi yells annoyed and approaches you both, while Oikawa tries to hide behind you. “Not my face, not my face!” Oikawa begs from behind you, leaning his head against your back. Iwaizumi tries to pull him away from you as the coach calls everyone together and demands their attention.

Iwaizumi would definitely be the first to tell you that he has feelings for you. But also alone, not in front of all your friends.

He would pull you aside, casually ask if you had a moment and just before he confessed his feelings to you. His tough determination would leave him and he would scratch the back of his neck until he got the words out almost sulkily, not looking you in the eye at first, before repeating his words with more determination, this time looking at you.

Oikawa would try to win your attention with every second.

Whether it’s in class because he offers to answer difficult questions and flaunts the answer to make himself look smart and strong in front of you, or whether it’s in training when he scores 5 points only with his serves.

Even your teacher doesn’t call you by name as often as Oikawa does when he wants your attention.

He also doesn’t like it when he sees you with other guys. He always pushes his way in between your conversations and tries to be close to you.

“Oh hey, Y/n-chan, what are you talking about right now?” he asks with feigned curiosity, his arms draped over your shoulders as he stares darkly into the eyes of the young guy in front of you. “Oh eh, we were talking about the new movie that airs tomorrow,” you reply, looking back over your shoulder at Oikawa, who suddenly looks at you with a smile, the dark expression completely gone. “A movie? Shall we go together?” He’s not really in the mood for the cinema, but if it means this guy leaves and Oikawa can spend more time with you, it’s a win-win.

Oikawa walks out of the changing room with a big grin on his face. Freshly showered and in everyday clothes after his team won the game against a neighboring team. “Did you see how many points I scored in that game? It’s amazing, isn’t it?” he asks, totally full of himself, as he puts his arm over your shoulders and pulls you closer to him. “Yes... you really scored a lot of points. But Hajime was also really-“, ”Iwa-chan could only score so many points because I’m the best setter. Right? You saw that, didn’t you? How I pass the ball into Iwa-chan’s hand?" he interrupts you, almost as if it annoys him that you were about to praise his best friend. With a sigh, you just chuckle. “Mhh yes, that’s right. You’re really great.” you answer him and watch as his eyes sparkle even brighter and he happily presses you against his chest. “I knew you only had eyes for me, little birdy.”

Since Oikawa assumes that every woman likes him anyway, he also expects you to like him. Would he tell you that he has feelings for you? Maybe.

The fact that you two are always doing so much together and that he’s like a clingy puppy somehow blurs the line between friendship and relationship.

At some point, when a guy had asked for your number, Oikawa had then shouted loudly that the guy should leave his girlfriend alone. You looked at him in confusion and there was a brief, awkward silence until you asked him if by any chance he had feelings for you.

[4me2knowandyou2wonder]

…this headcanon refused to leave me alone and now I have choreographed a whole dance to the song She Thinks Of Me by Landon Tewers.

Oh? Me? Thanks for asking, the answer is no, I am not okay. :)

Saw a headline about someone learning to pole dance to overcome SA trauma. I thought it was a powerful story about reclaiming ones own self

And it got me thinking.

Ghost getting recommended it after Roba.

Him actually trying it and loving it.

Him being really good at it because of how strong he is.

It becoming his main hobby.

The best part? He doesn’t even hide it, people just don’t believe him when he says it.

Gaz: so what are your hobbies?

Ghost: pole dancing.

Gaz: ha! Okay I get it. keep being mysterious then.

Ghost: …

And it just goes on like this. people asking what Ghost does in his free time. him telling them honestly. them thinking he’s telling them to F off.

-

6 months later the 141 is in an old club/pub and there is an abandoned pole on the corner. Price makes some joke about Ghost’s “totally real hobby” and how he should prove it. And then price laughs. And then price is not laughing as Ghost shreds the floor like no other man could.

Ghost: “never lied to you once,”

I don’t know what soap’s role in this would be but I’m sure he’d have one!

Obligatory poll for pole dancing post

[irreverent-saints]

PREVIOUS NEXT FIRST

Unwanted Visitors

Idun had salt in her nostrils and a breeze through her hair. There were no clouds upon the sky, no whitecaps in the sea, and no buildings for miles. She snuck into a dense patch of growth and hauled out a narrow boat. To even call this vessel that was generous. Worms had left intricate patterns as they burrowed into it. The planks had warped apart, held together by straw, tar and faith. Were it not waterlogged, it could have made for decent firewood. Not much else. Idun looked over her shoulder. She dragged the boat over the most sandy part of the bay and mounted a makeshift trolling line with a bright red bobber. Then she pushed herself out. She did a test run in the shallows, making sure no holes were leaking. After gathering confidence she rowed out at sea.

She ventured further, a long stretch of bright white sand. Then she passed an underwater cliff, and there was nothing under her but black sea. She swallowed, staring back at her line. She rowed carefully, testing the give against waves. The sea remained calm. She held her hand against tar. Dry. For now. Idun moved slowly for about half an hour. The red dot ebbed. She leaned over, wrapping the line around a sturdy stick. The boat kept jerking. She pressed her thighs against the edges and lowered her torso, intent on reeling in her catch. With each wrap around the stick, the fight grew heavier. The first glimmering fish emerged near the surface. A sizeable cod. Two more. She grinned, strands of hair sticking to her face and briny grime up to her elbow. She lugged them in and bled them. Then she rowed back to shore. She hid her boat near the roots of a tree, covered with twigs and straw. Then she put her catch into a waxed cotton sack, tucked her flyaways to the side and softened her face. She walked up to the road when she gleaned a figure near the shore. She adjusted her coat and straightened her back. The man approached. Idun tensed up.

“Good day, nice place to go for a walk, isn’t it?” Paal said. Idun nodded.

“Fresh air is good for you.” she said.

“Are you sure thieving from the ocean is a good idea,” he asked bluntly. Idun froze.

“What. Why?”

“I saw you. Don’t do that again. At best you could drown, at worst the curse could spread to our seas,”

Iduns heart pounded as she stared at the man. He stood in the middle of the road. A stern look on his face as he carried himself with the understated discipline of a soldier.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said, continuing to slowly walk. He stepped in front of her.

“These waves have pulled so many good men under, I would hate to see you go as well,” he said. Idun took a deep breath.

“Would you?” She sneered. “I’d be shocked if anyone at all cared what happened to this hag,”

He smirked.

“They are scared of your curse, not you,” he said, bringing out a small notebook. He scribbled something down. “in fact, I’m sure they would love to be able to talk to you under less… tense circumstances,”

He handed her a small piece of paper.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Summer festivities. I will help host it. Give yourself a break from all this suffering and have some fun for once,”

Idun looked at him stunned. He kept that same sly grin.

“I’ll… see if I can fit it into my schedule.” She said, tucking it away.

They parted ways, and she hurried home. She glanced at the paper one last time before settling in to prepare the fish. She put them in a smoke chamber and bundled up in her chair. There she grabbed hold of a large cape. One side was pale and dusty, the other a deep, varied green with hundreds of scraps poking out. She sewed bits of dry moss, old rags and whatever she could find onto it until it moreso resembled peat than an outfit. If nothing else it meant she could spend her evening stabbing something a few thousand times. By dusk she looked over her piece, satisfied with her progress.

And by early morning Idun was back in the birch forest. The trees grew sparse, rarely taller than her head, She held a long spike in her hand, making her way to the Deep Woods. Her steps were silent, always aware of her intrusion. She reversed her cape to the beige side and put up the hood. The cloth limited her vision. Small price to pay. She picked up speed. On the way she looked out for lichen, birchbark and the odd spire. Those giant trees loomed in the distance, shrouded by mist.

She trudged her way through a dense patch of birches. As she emerged from the foliage, a large shadow shifted. She jumped, tripping over herself. There, so deceptively quiet, a Jotun walked across the terrain. The fog softened his outline, and it was as if every sound had been wrapped in cotton. A gentle wind howled throughout the landscape. She froze in place, ever so slowly moving closer to the ground. He was in no hurry. Each step gingerly placed ahead until he was close enough to reach out and grab her. Idun cowered. He sauntered in her direction. She tried to shuffle backwards as his paw landed a few meters from her. The faintest sound of gravel shifting, and a wash of displaced air. Were she to close her eyes, nothing more would indicate his presence. Another step. Closer. She could barely think as his massive shadow fell over her. A few hairs from the tip of his tail grazed her, and with that he had passed through. Idun felt as if her chest was going to burst. The Jotun looked to the side, assessing his surroundings with curiosity. He glanced down. His whole body seized. His tail flung and he slammed his foot down, quaking the earth. Idun ran towards the trees. He stood still. They both stared at each other.His shoulders slowly sank, and the quills that had stood out in all directions soon laid neat against his skin. He nodded slightly, lowering his ears.

“morning. I didn’t see you there,” he said. Idun laid there dumbstruck.

“G-good morning...” she stuttered.

“You look familiar,” he said, taking a step closer, she hid behind a birch, it failed to provide cover, “you’re the one that didn’t attack,”

“Oh no, I would never,” she said.

“How interesting. What are you doing here?” He asked, Idun shrank.

“Oh the usual, enjoying this wonderful nature we have all been blessed with,” she bluffed, doing her best to project her voice.

He squinted.

“And what does that entail?”

“Observing the birds, getting some fresh air in my lungs, exercising my body,”

The Jotun nodded.

“What great activities. Have fun with that, and don’t go further into the woods,” he said with a grin. Then he stood up, looking over his shoulder with narrow eyes, “also. I don’t recommend wearing those colours out here, I can barely distinguish you from the ground,”

“Thanks for the advice!” she said, clenching her jaw. He reached into a satchel strapped to his waist, retrieving a bright red leaf. The giant knelt down before her, in doing so his thighs encased her like walls. Any and all escape routes cut off. He stretched his hand out, leaf pinched between two claws that somehow failed to even bruise it.

“Here, carry this. Lets not startle each other again,” he said. She reluctantly grabbed hold of the leaf, big as parasol above her head.

“How nice of you,” she said. With no further courtesies the Jotun left.

Idun stared, puzzled and amazed. The Jotun disappeared into the Deep Woods. She didn’t follow.

Idun then spent a few days eating cod and pondering her life.

Then more time passed, the Jotun’s word had fallen on deaf ears, and she was halfway up an almond tree. She had arrived by vine, and from there it grew so tall that she could more or less walk upright along the branches. She inched toward the drupe when the ground shook. She froze in place. The huge wooden doors opened, as if the very mountain pried apart. In between foliage she gleaned the Jotun as he stretched and looked around. He hunched slightly over, letting out a deep rattle, almost a yammer. She draped her camouflage over herself and flattened against the tree. One gruelling pull forwards, one glance over her shoulder. Repeat.

The jotun scratched his chin. He proceeded to move in a casual, yet deliberate fashion, scanning the ground. A lean on caught his eye. He furrowed his brows, gently poking at it with his paw. Idun stared, praying that no human remained inside. He paused, ripping a part of the wall off before studying the makeshift shelter further. Satisfied with his assessment he kicked it apart as if it were made from tissues and matchsticks. She heaved. He made his round. When he was on the very opposite side of his garden she crawled further out on the branch. One almond of this size could make for several meals. The best way to go about it was to cut the stalk, and hopefully not go tumbling along with her catch. She could then collect them on her way back. She wrapped her legs tightly, retrieving a machete as she began to hack off a pod. As each fell down, the branches shook. She clutched against the branch, palms sweaty and a heartbeat in the hundreds. Four down, and she didn’t die on the way. One would have to consider that a victory.

She inched backwards, always aware of the fifty feet drop. She made her way down one branch, and from there she could climb the vine she had come from.

A huge shadow moved between the leaves. She seized. Then she flattened against the branch, barely gleaning a huge torso. She put up her hood and ruffled her cape, making sure every single piece of her was covered up. The Jotun browsed the shrub. He snapped an almond off of the branch. Idun clutched, knuckles white. He popped the whole thing, pod and all, into his mouth. A sickening crunch rang out. She laid there frozen as he helped himself to more. His wrist went past her, barely avoiding her cape. The spurs on is arm flew over her head. His chest hummed subtly, rapid, deep clicks.

He froze in place. Idun held her breath. His hand hovered just over her, radiating heat. He turned his head to the side. His eye flashed, a strange, crescent pupil. His ear flicked. Iduns arms began to tingle, numb from holding onto the branch with all her strength. This being was infathomable in scale. Not just in mass, but in the way he seemed tuned into the most subtle of movements. As if his very senses moved through the land in fractals, any and all intrusion accounted for. She felt as if a single stray hair, or a little too sharp an inhale would betray her location. She had his breath on her neck. Warm, slightly damp air washed over her. She clenched her jaw, moving only her eyeballs to gaze up at him. The side of his face took up most of her view as he slowly continued to chew the almond. She stood still. His pupil moved. He stared directly at her. A single, yellow eye through thick foliage. His pupil narrowed. Neither of them moved an inch.

A loud crackle. Singed fur. She grappled the twig, breathing in sharply. The jotun twitched. He stumbled backwards, holding his hand up to under his armpit. She gleaned a bright red stain. He heaved. Her ears rang. The jotun rubbed his wound. He glanced back at the tree before stepping away, slumped back and ears hanging low. He moved sluggishly, massaging the bloody spot as he slowly retreated to his cave.

Idun hurried down, collecting her catch. She rushed away from his garden. On the way she passed three bright red puddles in the soil. If not him, me, she thought, looking away.