#i got in a good groove but i gotta go to work

[eusuntgratie]

ALEX / RAF FIC pls give me a single line i am starved i am dying

a whole snippet for you bc i got on a roll and nobody starves on my watch 😘😘

It's only been a few days when Raf realizes he isn’t the only one fighting to keep his gaze friendly. He’s pulling on a tshirt when Alex trails off mid-sentence. Raf turns to see what’s wrong and finds Alex staring with his mouth hanging open.  “You alright, kid?” He snaps it shut and swallows. Raf tries not to watch the lines of his throat as he does it.

wip game

[beatcroc]

always so funny to re-realize that my fixations evidently don't work like most people's. i'll see posts like 'that point in ur life ur between hyperfixations and u feel like ur just floating aimlessly' or ppl talking about like 'aw man i think my hyperfixation on x is fading' and i'll be like you can do that? that can happen? bc for me these things don't have an expiration date they always just keep going until they're replaced by something else. the only time i ever 'lost interest' in a fixation in a neutral way it literally took more than two years and it wasn't a gradual fade so much as a specific and sudden 'ok i want to do something else now'.

[atlabeth]

true luck's kiss

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of tyche!reader

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

a/n: so this was supposed to come out on st patrick's day but unfortunately im the slowest writer in the world and ive also been doing nothing but watch basketball because we sleep in may. anyways here's a short fluffy blurb because it is getting way too sad in here with my hurricane fics lmao

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): none, this is all fluff. i know crazy coming from me

You grimaced as you pulled the arrow back. Sweat dripped down your forehead and you itched to brush it away, but you ignored the urge as you let out a deep breath. 

“Just like that.” Kimia nodded as she stopped behind you. “Perfect angle—now let it fly.” 

You did, and the weight lifted off your shoulders once the arrow embedded itself in the center of the target. 

“Ending on a bullseye,” she said with a grin. “Great work.” 

“Only way to do it,” you said, smiling at her. “Am I a worthy opponent yet?” 

She chuckled and patted your shoulder as she moved on. “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as Cabin Seven. Today’s not that day.” 

You shook your head with a laugh and took your quiver off your back. “Keep telling yourself that!”

A bow and arrow had become your weapon of choice since the moment you stepped foot into camp, and you’d gotten good over the years—so much so that it was a surprise when your mother claimed you. One day, though, you would get an Apollo kid to admit you were better than them. 

You’d just finished putting all your equipment away, and when you turned back, you were met with a mess of brown curls and shining eyes.

“Luke,” you said, pleasantly surprised. “Didn’t know you were in archery today.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I didn’t come here for archery—I came here for you.”

You chuckled as you gestured with your head, and he got the hint as you started walking together. “How forward of you.”

“It’s a living,” he said with a smile. “How was practice?”

“And small talk?” You pressed a hand to your heart and shook your head. “It must be my lucky day.”

Luke’s smile widened as he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. I do wanna hear about your day, though.”

You shrugged. “It was boring. Killed it at archery, nearly got killed on the climbing wall—I was gonna head back to the cabin to chill for a few hours before dinner, but it looks like you’ve taken that slot.” 

He chuckled. “So you are free?” 

“I’ve always got some time to listen to Luke Castellan,” you mused. “What’ve you got?” 

“I’m cursed,” Luke said. 

You stopped in your tracks and looked him right in the eye. “...Cursed.” 

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s gotta be true. I mean, nothing is going right for me. I’ve been off my groove with my sword, I’ve lost every canoe race, I nearly burnt my eyebrows off last time I was in the forge, and my team hasn’t won a game of capture the flag this entire month—” 

“I know,” you interrupted. “I’m in your cabin.” 

“So you know how bad my luck’s been lately!” he exclaimed with a gesture. “It— it was embarrassing, but now it’s just pathetic.” 

“You know I can’t fix it, right?” you said wryly. “I’m not my mom.” 

“That’s what Annabeth said,” Luke mumbled. “But— but I’ve seen the way you live—you’ve got luck on tap! Your strawberries are always the ripest, you somehow find drachmas on the ground, and your volleyball serves are better than anyone’s.”

“I play varsity back home,” you said. “No luck needed.”

“Still,” he emphasized, “you’re naturally lucky. You’ve literally got it in your DNA, and I’m fresh out of it. That’s gotta be worth something.” 

“Not really.” You crossed your arms. “So what do you think I can do about this?” 

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Say something?" 

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. “Like what?” 

“Pray to Tyche,” he said. “You’re her only kid here—she’s gotta be listening.” 

You bit back your smile as you shook your head. “Fine. Just for you.” 

“Thank you,” Luke sighed, watching with bated breath as you cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and pressed your hands together. 

“Tyche, dearest mother, goddess of luck and fortune—I ask you to shine on Luke Castellan on this day. Smile upon my friend and break his very real curse. If you do this for him, in return, he will do all of my cabin chores for the next month.” 

When you opened your eyes, Luke looked quite unimpressed. “Very funny.” 

“Feel any luckier?” you asked with a smile as you started walking again. 

“I don’t think so,” he said, falling into step with you once more. “Especially because you’re putting conditions in your prayers. I didn’t know we could do that.” 

“My mom has a sense of humor,” you mused. “And I also think I might be her favorite.” 

“Not all of us have that privilege,” he said wryly. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he grabbed your arm to stop you.  

“I think I’ve got it,” Luke said. “How about a kiss?” 

Your eyebrows rose, but you couldn’t help showing your amusement. “Now it’s a kiss that’ll break your curse?” 

He shrugged. “Like I said—you’ve got luck in your DNA. Maybe you could pass that along.”  

“Really,” you said dryly. 

“I’ve kinda tried everything,” he said. “A kiss from a lucky and pretty girl is far from the worst option.” 

You chuckled. “You really know how to flatter ‘em.” 

“I try,” he grinned. “Are you up to it?” 

You bit your lip as you looked at Luke. Obviously, he was attractive—you’d always held an appreciation for his curls and the way they would constantly get in his eyes. He cut an impressive figure from constant, year-round training, and he even made the camp shirt look good. And gods, that damned smile got you. 

There were worse things than kissing you, and there were certainly worse things than kissing Luke Castellan. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking a step forward. “Pucker up, Castellan.” 

Before you could really doubt yourself, you leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t really expecting to actually… like it. 

Your first thought was that Luke’s lips were softer than they had any right to be. Your second thought was that his cologne was the scent always floating around the Hermes cabin. You didn’t really mind, though. 

Luke gently put his hand on the back of your head to keep you there, and the moment lasted much longer than you initially planned. You also didn’t mind, though your thoughts were far more muddled than they should’ve been when you finally managed to pull away. He seemed to have a gift for that. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked at him, not even trying to hide your smile. Turns out kissing Luke Castellan was actually pretty great. “Feel any luckier?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a soft grin, his eyes twinkling. You wondered if he had the same thought about you. “Yeah. I really do.” 

“I think that means it’s worked, then,” you said. 

Luke nodded with mock austerity. “We should probably stick together for the rest of the week, though. Just to make sure this bad luck goes away for good.” 

“You might be right,” you said. “And uh— you think you need an extra boost?” You glanced away as you bit back your smile. “Just to be safe and all. To really get rid of this curse.” 

“You know,” he drew your attention back to him as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you leaned in closer. “I think I might.” 

[elexuscal]

So just over a year ago, I made a resolution to myself to get better at Fitness, since I was getting older and i knew if i didn't, the Consequences would begin to manifest. One problem? Historically i have always hated working out.

i knew there were two main reasons why: 1. lingering trauma from the usual Fat/Neurodivergent Kid Mistreated In PE Class Experience 2. oh my god it's so so so boring i would rather do anything more entertaining.

So. I'm not an expert, and i'm definitely not a professional fitness instructor, BUT i have genuinely come to not just tolerate but actually enjoy exercise this past year. So if these are any problems you personally have contended with, these strategies May Help.

One: Remove Barriers

a lot of flavours of neurodivergence struggle with switching between tasks and executive function generally, especially towards something you don't find fun. So first you gotta identify any barriers keeping you from exercising, and removing or mitigating them.

For me, a hurdle i recognised is that if I could not easily access the equipment, I was unlikely to use it. honestly if i couldn't see it i would probably forget it was there. So my first order of business was making a Work Out Zone. I unrolled my yoga mat and gave it a near-permanent place in my room. my weights came out of the closet and placed on a low shelf where i could easily access them, as did my resistance band. now they were always Right there.

I also realised something I detested was the general feeling of sweaty clothes, and in particular, having to change out of them. So Gross. so i started scheduling my work outs for in the the morning after breakfast or right before my nightly showers, aka: when I am changing in and out of my PJs. I'll do my routine (mostly) naked and not have to contend with the extra steps and laundry that sweaty clothes bring.

two: secondary entertainment

like i said: i found exercise very boring. and while i've gotten better over the past year, and can find it meditative, i still prefer having something else to catch my attention.

i used to like to put on video essays. but then i realised i was so often pausing my work outs because the particular video ended, or the pace got slow, or the topic turned to something dark and depressing out of nowhere and killed the vibe, so then i had to stop to find something else--

No. You need something that will keep you in the zone, and won't knock you out of it. I didn't used to listen to music much, but this year i took advantage of a Spotify subscription my sister gifted me (😔) and started just putting on upbeat rock, hip-hop, and pop mixes. it doesn't need to be my favouirte music ever it just needs to Keep Going.

i do find the loud, rhythmic music is really good for keeping my pace up, but if music doesn't do it for you, you might find audiobooks or autoplaying favourite old tv shows/sitcoms might scratch that itch.

Three: Find Other Motivators

Or, "if you can't make your own motivation, store bought is fine"

Gameification is really good here. You might be someone who'll benefit from a pedometer or step-counter app. I have a friend who swears by the Switch Ring-Fit, and I've also heard of folks who use games like Just Dance, Zombies, Run! and Beat Saber to rely on the sweet sweet endorphins generated by hitting a high score.

(BUT: do beware the dark side of gameification, which is the risk of demotivation if you don't hit your goals. For example, after doing GREAT on exceeding my step goal for a month, I got hit with COVID. For about a week and a half I was barely moving beyond the kitchen and back. My step counts plummeted, there was no way to edit the record out, and that made it harder to get back into the groove. Be mindful relying too much on gameification!)

Even outside of literal games, there are ways to scratch this itch. I used secondary objectives as a way to encourage me to keep up with my daily walks. Walking my roommate's dog when he was working long days is an obvious one, but we don't always have a furry friend at our disposal. Then I would rely on mini-challenges like, "pick up 10 cool rocks to paint", "fill this bag with wood for the fireplace", "take 10 pretty pictures", or "get to the corner store to get more milk".

And of course, consider team sports! Many folks I've talked to feel having set training/play times with a team that relies on them crucial to keep them on track!

Four: Don't Measure Success By Weight Loss

I know. I know. Easier said than done. It does not help that like 80% of workout resources online are going to mention this. but above all else, you must resist the beast. (and while not as dicey, measuring success by visible muscle gain can fall into a similar trap).

The biggest benefits to exercise are invisible. it improves cardiovascular health, brain function, tissue regeneration, immune system function, lung capacity, energy levels, literally our whole body. no matter what external changes your body does or doesn't go through, you're still going to be benefitting from exercise, and you do not want to get demotivated chasing unrealistic/irrelevant goals.

Instead, to track your progress, focus on questions like these:

How is exercise impacting my mood? Do I feel less stressed or anxious?

Am I sleeping better?

Is my balance improving?

Is my stamina increasing?

Am I becoming more flexible?

Can I lift/carry heavier weights?

Is my breath control improving?

Over the last year, I've seen marked improvements in all of these. My joints don't hurt as much; it's easier for me to to get up and move; I don't get winded as easily; I generally feel more relaxed and cheerful. Those are all amazing outcomes, and I hope that everyone on their own fitness journey can find the same joy there as I have.

[tiredfox64]

Can I request the MK1 Earthrealm Champions with a fem!rockstar reader? Like when they meet her for the first time at one of her shows in some underground venue or when she’s rehearsing at soundcheck before a show?

(If you need songs for her to perform, may I recommend Kaia Jette’s music, she has songs like Medusa, Star Maiden, Hellfire, Immortal, Lovesick Idiot or you can choose songs yourself…)

Do You Wanna Love My Rock N Roll?

Yip notes: Joan Jett. Gotta be Joan Jett. I've been to a concert of hers two summers ago. She looks good for her age.

Pairings: Earthrealm Champions x Rockstar! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Gave up proofreading, sorry

You have made a name for yourself. Baby, you’re a star! A rockstar that is. A rockstar who has starstruck people from across the world. Many kinds of people want to meet you. Farmers, monks, actors, ex yakuza members…

Alright, there’s more than that but in short, you have captured the eyes of a special group of men. Earthrealms champions to be exact.

Johnny was the one to introduce your music to them all. They were curious since he would blast it whenever he could. In the shower, while getting ready in the morning, during training, whenever really. It disturbed the peace at the Wu Shi Academy but he couldn’t help himself. You were just so amazing and the energy you were blasting out got him going. It even got him singing which was when everyone told him to stop.

Nonetheless, it captured the attention of the others and soon they were grooving to it as well. Kenshi would begin to whisper the lyrics under his breath without even thinking. Raiden would hum the melody while getting ready for the day. Kung Lao would straight up steal Johnny’s phone so he could listen to your music for himself. That was the moment Johnny knew he got them hooked.

They were even more hooked once he showed pictures of you and your band. Wow! You were so cool looking. Tons of pictures with your hair looking loud and wild. Your makeup matched your hair well, especially your eyeliner which made your eyes pop out. Leather and jeans were a wonderful combo for you. Your neck was decorated with chokers and necklaces that looked like chains. Not only was your voice awesome but you in general were awesome.

In a way, you helped them train more. Your music helped pump them up and made them train better. It was a bonding experience for them. It allowed moments where Kenshi and Johnny could put their differences aside. It made them grow closer. Even after the incident with the tournament and other realm bs they still found joy when listening to your music together.

So when Johnny invited them to come to California to see you perform they took their chances. Kung Lao and Raiden did have to beg Liu Kang to let them go though. It was all gonna be worth it! Seeing you in person will be a dream come true for them.

“I can’t believe we are going to see her in person,” Raiden had excitement present in his voice. If his amulet was with him he’d be sparking up like faulty wiring.

“But did we really have to leave your mansion early?” Kenshi asked Johnny.

“Hey! You guys want to see her, right? We have to be early to get a chance to be upfront for her performance. This isn’t a professional concert; this is one of those underground performances that only certain people know about.”

Of course Johnny would know about all your performances. From the big stage ones to the small venues that give people the chance to wreck shit, he’ll know what you’re up to. And he knows he has to be quick to be early to get good spots. Being early and being famous worked in his favor. The moment the security guards saw Johnny they had someone who works at the venue to go tell you. You wouldn’t believe your ears when you heard that Johnny Cage showed up. You had to see it for yourself.

You were still doing a soundcheck and some warm-ups when they arrived. You had to make sure the speakers could handle your music and for the hundredth time, yes, the drummer has their stick bag. You’re preaching to the choir at this point. Lo and behold the actor himself and his friends came walking through the door. You’re a lucky woman to be in the presence of great men.

“Well fuck me! It’s true. Johnny Cage in the flesh.”

You jumped off the stage, your boots making a loud thud once you hit the ground. You looked at the men before you. You’re already starting to like them based on their appearances and the vibes they give off. It’s different from what you expect your fans to look like but that’s not bad at all. You got closer to Johnny so you could get a good look at him. If he weren’t wearing his sunglasses you would see how his eyes widen in excitement.

“I need your good music. I’d die without good music.” Johnny thinks he’s slick for making a reference to one of your songs. “Oh yeah, these are some of my friends. This is Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Raiden.”

The first one you approached was Kung Lao. Immediately you surprised him by running your hands over the shaved sides of his head. Your hand soon went to the back to twirl his small ponytail with your finger.

“I love your hair. I might try this for myself.” You complimented him.

You weren’t looking at his face but this man was stunned. His mouth was open in a joyful smile as his eyes turned towards Johnny. In his mind, he was thanking Johnny for blasting your music every night even though it disturbed his rest. Then you turned your attention towards Raiden. The part of your brain that activates when you see something cute is activated from the sight of his face.

“Aw, look at that baby face. You can’t be a fan of mine, not with that face.” You teased him as you squeezed his cheeks with your hands.

His cheeks started warming up from embarrassment and flattery. No one’s ever described him as having a baby face which is embarrassing. But being touched by your soft hands made this moment worth it. Next was Kenshi. His tattoos caught your eye with how colorful they were and how the art form seemed foreign. You noticed the blindfold over his eyes and weren’t sure if that was a style choice or if it had another purpose. Whatever it was you weren’t sure if it was okay to touch him. That’s until he held his hand towards you, letting you know it was alright. Once you took his hand into yours, your other hand went up and began tracing over the linework of his tattoos.

“I’m digging the tattoos. Might need your tattoo artist’s number.” You joked.

“You don’t want the tattoo artist I have, trust me.” He joked back but his words were true. You didn’t know.

“Well, I sure hope I don’t mess up tonight. I got a good group of men watching me.” Not that you ever messed up before.

“I doubt you will. You’re too amazing to mess up. Plus I need you to give a good performance so I could stream it to my fans.” Thanks, Johnny, no pressure there.

You told them to hang around outside the venue for a bit since you were still getting ready. There was still a good hour before they would truly let people in. They waved to you goodbye, sometimes taking multiple glances at you, before finally leaving.

“They seemed pretty cute.” You hinted at your bandmates.

“Planned orgy?” Your drummer asked. She was dead serious you could see it in her eyes and hear it in her tone.

“What? No, what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“It’s a valid question!”

The venue got packed quickly once the doors opened. Of course, your little group of fighters were front and center. It’s the best spot. They get a clear view of you and their eardrums don’t get busted from the speakers. Kenshi doesn’t need to be blind and deaf. Sento could only do so much for him. With them being in front of you, you took that as an opportunity to play around with them. That’s the fun of being a star. You get to interact with your fans in whatever way you want, if it’s legal of course. The interactions you will have with them will stay in their minds forever.

Your first victim- I mean fan, was Raiden. You were eyeing him the whole time while you sang. The song was good but he did feel a little embarrassed that you were staring at him while yelling “do you wanna touch” in your mic. But you made his head snap up to look at you when you walked up close and rested your right foot on his shoulder. You were gentle while doing it, not putting your whole weight on the poor man.

He stared up at you in awe. His heart was beating as hard as the bass drum. The spotlights shined bright behind you and you were like a demonic angel looking down on him. You had to get back to your other fans so you went him off with a very light kick before walking off. Kung Lao had to catch his friend who stumbled a little.

“What happened?” Raiden asked as if he were in a daze.

It made Kung Lao laugh at how ridiculous Raiden was acting. But his time would be soon.

Your next song was very screechy and chaotic. You were letting the world know of your wild spirit. Kung Lao was loving that. The energy got to him and he developed an appreciation for the electric guitar with how awesome it sounded. And to think he found electronic instruments to have no soul.

The end of the song was coming up and he was jamming out to it. That’s when you started slowly walking towards him. He didn’t notice at first until you dropped down on your knees in front of him. You grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him in before yelling “Have ya, grab ya, til you’re sore!” right into his face. You had a satisfied smile on your face once you saw the utter shock in his eyes as you let him go. Luckily, Raiden was there to catch him and mock him for acting up as well. You got right back on your feet and continued until there was only pounding from the drums.

Now comes the time you like to jump down and walk through the crowd as you continue to sing. Your fans know not to touch you but to expect you to possible touch them. Raiden and Kung Lao already got their fixings, it’s Kenshi’s moment now. The chorus at the end was coming up and you thought why not give him a surprise. You tried to sneak up behind him thinking he couldn’t actually sense you but you were dead wrong. Though he didn’t turn around, he wanted you to believe you were being sneaky.

Your arm wrapped around his broad shoulders as you continued to sing. The part where your bassist and guitarist drop out and allow you to sing by yourself was coming up. When that moment came up Kenshi decided to turn his neck toward you and sing “I hate myself for loving you” with you. Well, he kind of sang, more like saying the lyrics as you sang them. You smiled proudly before pulling away from him. There was a slight smirk on his face which amazed the rest of the group. At least Kenshi kept his cool with you.

The end of the show was coming up and you did give your attention to Johnny. You didn’t forget him, not while he was shoving his phone towards you. You were saving the best for last. This song was the biggest I don’t fucking care message in the world. With the shit that Johnny pulls sometimes this song works out for him. That’s why he’s your target for the end of the night. At some point you walked up to him and shoved your face into the camera while singing. Gotta give his followers a great show and a good look at your lipstick. What is that, coral blue #2?

Then you decided to mess with him by taking his phone from him. It was like taunting an animal to come get you. You wanted him to jump on stage and he obeyed. He jumped up and took his phone from you, finding your efforts to be funny. You were making this man’s night with how close you were getting to him. Wrapping your arm around his neck, squishing your face against his, gosh it was magical.

But the show must come to an end. All good things come to an end. You kicked Johnny off the stage, not literally, and took a bow with your bandmates. A wonderful performance as always.

The boys were hyped up like kids during a sugar rush. All the way back to Johnny’s mansion they never stopped talking about you and the interactions they had with you. They joked, they laughed, they teased, they enjoyed. What better way to end the night than with a little surprise in the back of Johnny’s pocket.

As he went to grab his keys to his mansion he felt something else in his pocket. When he pulled it out it was a note that he didn’t remember having. When he opened up all their eyes lit up, except for Kenshi’s of course. It read:

Here’s my number:----------

Make sure to share it with your buddies! ;)

Yap notes: I'm so sorry for not posting. I got horrible writer's block and the lasagna put me in a coma. It was too good. Also I just found out my professor for my anthropology class is in Madagascar. LIKE WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE NOT EVEN IN THE STATES! CHECK YOUR EMAILS! Adiós!

[mcflymemes]

THE EMPEROR'S NEW GROOVE (2000) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

how shall i do it?

oh, is that hard to believe?

is this really the best you could do?

check out this piece of work.

i'm here because i received a summons.

word on the street is you can fix my problem.

the drinks were a bit on the warm side.

okay, i admit it. maybe i wasn’t as nice as i should have been.

do you really want to kill me?

so is everything ready for tonight?

i thought we’d start off with a soup and a light salad, and then see how we feel after that.

we’re about to go over a huge waterfall.

bring it on.

you got all that, honey?

what about dinner?

all right. a quick cup of coffee.

but what does that have to do with anything?

you’re sort of confusing me.

how did you get back here before us?

by all accounts, it doesn’t make sense.

i never liked your spinach puffs.

ah. should have seen that coming.

you know what, you could have told me that before i set it up.

now you stop being hard on yourself. all is forgiven.

it’s not the first time i was tossed out of a window, and it won’t be the last.

what can i say? i’m a rebel.

i can’t believe this is happening!

break the door down!

are you kidding me? this is hand-carved mahogany.

so you lied to me.

couldn’t pull the wool over your eyes, huh.

why did i risk my life for a selfish brat like you?

i was always taught that there was some good in everyone, but, oh, you proved me wrong.

now i feel really bad.

you threw off my groove!

he didn’t pay his check.

this had better be good!

this is the last time we take directions from a squirrel.

yeah, like that would ever happen.

will you take a look at this?

oh, is that hard to believe?

just thought i’d give you a heads up.

what do you mean the door’s stuck? try jiggling the handle.

you’re the criminal mastermind here, not me.

just leave me alone.

it’s my birthday gift to me. i’m so happy.

hey, it doesn’t always have to be about you.

uh, he doesn’t really wanna talk to you.

hey, did you see that sky today? talk about blue.

don’t drink the wine.

our moment of triumph approaches!

oh, he’s doing his own theme music.

i’m so glad i was unconscious for all of this.

you’re not just gonna let him die like that, are you?

don’t listen to that guy.

if it were me, i’d march right back there and demand to see him.

you just saved my life!

believe it or not, i think i need a bath.

maybe i’m just new to this whole rescuing thing, but this, to me, might be considered kind of a step backwards.

i ate a bug today!

what is this guy babbling about?

i’ll be sure to tell him you stopped by.

i gotta go wash something.

anything sounds bad when you say it with that attitude.

let me guess, you have a great personality.

thanks for going back on your promise!

how long has that been there?

someday you’re gonna wind up all alone, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

hmm. don’t know, don’t care. how’s that?

for the last time, it was not a kiss.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Back on this account: Prefacing this that this work was wrote in like a day and like most of my things- i was too lazy to edit lol. The concept form todays work was injected into my brain by good old @auspicioustidings, check em out- they got some cool concepts and fics. (Particularly Firewatch- chefs kiss to that series), lots of soft, dark, kidnap-y, COD content 👍

Without further ado i present my impulsive thoughts on a page:

——————

“Committed to the Bit.”

words: 4.7k

Summary: You’re at an utterly boring halloween party, about to leave when some scottish man dressed as a solider comes slinking into the bathroom and really goes ham with his whole ‘This place is dangerous, you aren’t supposed to be here- we gotta get you to safety’ act. Weird pick-up line approach but hey it fucking works. He’s just charming enough for you to play along with his bit. Because it is just a bit… right?

This party was kinda dull. Which really was a shame considering how high your expectations were. From what your friend said- it was supposed to be an immersive experience. The hosts were apparently old collage buddies with your friend who were halloween fanatics.

You friend has absolutely hyped them up, talking all about how when they threw parties they got into them and would always play up whatever dynamic they were going for with their costumes. Even to a level of mild public humiliation.

She once recounted the story of how one year, when dressed as a pair of vampires, they full on acted as though they were melting when someone brought a side of garlic breadsticks with the pizza. Fully committed to the bit it seems.

Because of the hosts being so dedicated to their act, of course it wasn’t uncommon for guests to act in a similar manner. Even those who didn’t have a running gag for the night were overall relaxed and had a good time being apart of the fun. It was a non-judgmental zone, filled with pretty decor and open people.

So of course, after hearing all about the welcoming and fucking amazing vibes of these parties- you had agreed to meet up with your friend at one.

Normally, you weren’t really one for parties, especially halloween ones because it was typically full of judgey, horny, strangers who would consider you weird- and you’d have to small talk and the songs almost always sucked because of course they couldn’t play actual halloween songs even if it killed them.

But after many reassurances from your friend, including videos and photos she had graciously provided you- you went to one.

To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

The costumes were amazing- high quality and expensive, hell the place was fucking stunning, all decked out in halloween gear and dark lighting. Even the building itself seemed perfect for this sort of thing- winding corridors, random locked rooms, ominous men in suits. Oh and don’t get you started on the snack table, shit was heavenly even if you were the only one touching it. The aesthetics of the party were great, But…

The vibes were way off. There was no rambunctious fun laughter and people grooving on the dance floor. Everyone seemed oddly reserved. Committed to their bits for sure, but well… there wasn’t much ah, variety to everyone’s act.

They all shared a similar vibe of like- domineering power. Which was definitely pretty fucking hot when it came to some people, (looking at you fancy vanpire lady), but it got boring after a while.

Safe to say your attempts at socializing were pretty shot. And what’s even worse, your friend? Yeah she didn’t even show up.

Tragic truly. You would call her to see if she made it here yet, but your phone was dead- and talking to any of the other party goers was a song and dance you didn’t wanna attempt again.

So here you are, in the bathroom, sitting by one of the sinks and charging your phone.

How lame.

You sigh, standing up to check yourself out in the mirror. At least your costume is fun, it’s a reference that only really you and you friend would get, but still, it made you happy to wear. It was a royal outfit, you looked like nobility, nice and fancy. Perhaps a barron, or maybe a princess, or a king- really it was up for anyone's interpretation. You fix up the head accessory, then fuss with your hair just to have something to do.

Maybe you should just leave, you were getting pretty bored of everything.

And it’s at that moment, as you’re sinking down to the bathroom floor to grab your charger that the most interesting thing of tonight bursts through the door.

You look at him, blinking once then twice. He does the same.

Eye candy.

That’s the first thought that comes to mind. Without an ounce of shame you let your eyes rack over his form, fitted in some sort of military outfit, tactical gear and even a prop gun. He makes it look damn good.

And then you stop admiring the hunk of prime meat in front of you because starring is rude. (Even if he is fucking amazingly charmingly rugged and god damn what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that mohawk of his and just tug-)

“That’s a good fucking costume.”

He pauses, looking at you with something confused and a bit bemused. And like an idiot you just can’t keep your mouth shut and blurt out more shit.

“Did ya have to bust through the door though? I mean like- don’t get me wrong it was cool as shit- really adds to the character here, big, hot, ah… military? guy.”

You wince, you’re making a fool of yourself. Luckily the man doesn't seem to mind.

(Johnny takes one look at you, your bag in a sink, your phone charging in the bathroom outlet, your clearly partly homemade costume that shows way more care than any of the other people in this joint and easily figures out-)

“L.T, Found a civvie.”

He mumbles into a- oh shit he’s got an earpiece and everything. Now that is cool. You tell him as such.

“Okay that is so fucking cool. Dude does that thing actually work? Man. How long did it even take for you to get this whole costume?”

He studies you with an odd look for a moment. You wonder if there’s actually anyone talking to him in that earpiece. Must be with the way he pauses. Slowly, he speaks; gentle.

“Not a costume lass. We ought to get you outta here, it's gonna be a shitshow soon.”

You blink. And then, you smile.

“Rightttt, not a costume. I getcha.”

“Not joking bonnie. This place is dangerous, filled with snakes. How did a wee thing like you even get in here?”

You smile, a bit pleased to banter with the first person who isn't doing the same old same old, ‘i know more than you, ooo im so big and powerful and scary’ act.

“Took a carriage ride and promised my roommate I'd be back by midnight.”

He eyes your royal esc outfit, not cinderella by any means but it still makes him smile slightly. (And boy if that isn't a sight, him looking you up and down and looking at you like that?)

“Cute. Then allow me to be yer escort princess.” He jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom door.

The statement is said with just enough sarcasm to make you bite down a grin. Hes very committed to this whole military operation act. And honestly? You were ready to leave anyway. Not to mention this guy was the only one who’d gotten your interest all night.

You grab your things and stuff them in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder tightly.

“Follow me, and ye gotta be quiet. Cant let anyone see us.”

You are more than willing to go along with his silly bit. And so you give him a clumsy salute, with a good natured smile.

“You got it captain.”

“Sergeant.”

He corrects you with an amused little puff of air. Clearly- hes just as pleased to have someone indulge him as you are to have someone interesting to talk to.

“You got it sergeant.” You repeat back with a graceful little half bow and amused smirk.

He turns back to the door, hands on his gun and before you go out you grab onto his arm.

“Wait!”

He turns to you with a raised eyebrow, eyes sharp, focused: wow hes a really good actor and hes got really pretty fucking eyes-

“Lassie?”

Oh yeah you can't get lost in his eyes just yet.

“Can I have a gun? For safety and all that- totally.”

“Hen… i don't think-”

“please sergeant? I promise I won't break it or anything! I just wanna get more into character ya know? pretty please Sir…?

…

(Johnny is not a good man. And fuck when he hears you call him by his rank, sir, asking so sweetly- your hands clasped in front of you- looking at him with a sheepish grin and pleading eyes. He wants to give you a damn bazooka if it means you keep talking sweet to him. Ghost is in his ear, telling him he better not bloody dare.)

(So of course…)

“You keep that safety on boonie. Hold it like this. If you gotta use it, don't be shooting or you’ll blow yer eye out. You toss the bloody thing in the direction of whatever it is you’re tryna hit- or you hand it to me. Is that clear?”

You nod vehemently, assuring him with little, yep’s and sure’s, and got it-’s. He raises a brow, mostly cause hes not sure if you’re actually taking this seriously. You take it for something else entirely though and then quickly say-

“Yes sir. Understood.”

(...Johnny is both damn disappointed hes on a mission, and greatful as fuck, because the only thing he wants to do is push you up against that wall, sneak his hands down your silly little costume and tease you until you’re a squirming mess. Asking you if you understand how hard hes gonna fuck you and hear your breath hitch as you answer back with a wanton “Yes sir”—)

“Sergeant…?”

You stare at the fellow and his intense gaze, wondering if you took it too far. Hes committed to his bit sure, but you didn't mean to overstep and make him feel like he had to give you a gun. Clearly they were expensive props, detailed and metallic and heavy.

Instead of speaking to you, he speaks to his earpiece, “just a precaution L.T, what if her majesty gets cornered? Little lass don't have a lick of combat training.”

You -far to ready to add to this stupid little bit- chime in,

“Yeah, they only teach you fencing and the waltz where i'm from.”

Johnny grins, “Com'on L.T”

(As much as Ghost hates to admit it- Johnny is right. And so be begrudgingly relents. It seems everyone is amused by how utterly oblivious you are because Gaz spares a laugh and a cheeky comment after Ghost's gruff voice.)

“Soooo… what's the verdict Sergeant? Did your uh… LT? That's lieutenant right-? Does he approve?”

In response, Soap carefully positions a gun in your hand, telling you with an edge to keep your fingers away from the trigger. (Safety is on of course, Johnnys not an idiot all the time.) You nod, holding onto the gun and feeling so cool.

Like that the two of you are off, sneaking around the winding corridors and hiding.

Honestly? This is the most fun you’ve had since you got here. Its all you can do to not bounce on your heels when you follow Soap around.

He's just so into this, that you can't help but be sucked in. Speaking in low tones to his ear peice, making sure you stick close, talking about positions and other military jargon that goes over your head. Oh and he does it all with this charming smile, like the situation is serious yes- but like he's still making sure you’re having fun. Trying to keep you comfortable. The energy is tense but in a good way. Electric even.

You find yourself holding your breath whenever you hide behind a corner, or when he tugs you to him and holds you still- god it's just so thrilling. Maybe because you’ve had a boring night, and cause he's charming and fun in all the right ways- but you’re having a blast.

Even when things seem to get even more tense.

You and Soap are currently nestled away in a little nook, a back corridor, a dead end. Soap curses, speaking into his earpiece. You can hear footsteps, someones coming. And if they see you and Soap- you'll surely be compromised.

(Which means your little game will likely come to an end. Most of the party people here are judgmental, ergo they probably won't appreciate your little roleplay. Its in this moment that you decide- fuck it, you dont want this to end.)

“Sergeant!” You whisper harshly, tugging off your fancy coat and draping it around him, “I’ve got a plan- trust me.”

He looks at you, mildly conflicted, he's about to say something but the footsteps are getting closer and you really need a cover story for why you’re lurking in a dark corner away from the party. You can only think of one reason two people would sneak away at a party.

Sue you for getting too into this silly game of pretend, but adrenaline spikes and next thing you know; you’re kissing him.

Rough and messy, needy. You let out your best wanton muffled moan. His eyes are wide, and for a moment you spiral, realizing what you’ve just done. Sure you were playing pretend and he was committed to the bit but you just kissed him for fucks sake- sexually harsssed him!

Oh god hes gonna hate you and you just ruined all that fun banter and any shot at ever speaking to the only decent person you’ve met all night—

He’s kissing back.

With sudden haste he pulls you close, kissing you back with a ferocity that short circuits your brain for a moment. His knee slots in between your legs, entangling you two, and then there's a soft thud as his back hits the wall.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Your heart races, a slurry of adrenaline, of elation because he was playing along with your silly cover story, of something hot and molten because he was running his hands along your outfit desperately.

Amidst the heat of it all, the grinding of his knee between your legs- you don't even notice the fact that the footsteps stopped. Johnny does though. He breaks the kiss with a purposeful loud noise, when he sees your dazed and confused expression however- he quickly aims for your neck before you can say a word and accidently give away the clever cover story you thought of.

You gasp, the noise does wonders. He can hear whoevers about to round the corner shifting about, obviously realizing what's going on and debating if they should check to be sure or spare their eyes of the sight.

So of course, Johnny helps them decide by laying it on thick.

“Fuck atta girl hen, wanna hear you fall apart f’ me.”

He presses you against his knee, nibbling at your skin to make your breath stutter. Thankfully, you catch his words and seem to get at least to some level what he's doing.

So of course, because god damn it- you’re in the thick of this silly military operation act now- you’ve gotta commit. You moan out the worst thing you can think of to make someone go away. Which is of course—

“Daddy!”

(Johnny can hear Gaz fucking roaring with laughter over coms. It takes everything in himself not to laugh then and there. Luckily, having a pretty little thing pressed against his knee and trembling provides a good distraction. Still, he can't repress the grin.)

“Yeah? Need something kitten?” He captures your lips again, a quick kiss this time, just to leave you breathless for your next remark.

“Y-Your c-” Oh my fucking god you dont know if you’re struggling to speak because you’re trying your damndest not to laugh, or because you are painfully terribly aroused at due to his kisses and husky voice. Thank god he intervenes.

“Whats that kitty? Yer gonna have to speak up. Lemme hear that sweet voice of yours.”

He guides you across his knee, you tangle your hand in his hair, tugging that stupid mohawk close to kiss him again.

When you quickly pull away, you rush out the words, failing to hide the look of pure hysterical amusement on your face- luckily the rush of words is mistaken for neediness and not because you are seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Your cock-”

He captured your laughter in another kiss, groaning to hide the sound of your stifled snickers.

Finally, after what seems like ages and yet too little time- he hears Ghost in his ear giving him the all clear. Not without clear amusement.

Johny backs off, panting heavily and listening. He hears nothing but empty air. Quietly he whispers,

“They’re gone.”

You pant as well, trying your best to keep your hysterical little giggles quiet. Johnny is right there with you, like fucking schoolgirls- the two of you giggle for a moment.

Ah but you should probably apologize.

“H-Hey im sorry by the way- for kissing you out of the blue like that, i didn't know if you’d be comfortable with it but uh- i kinda got invested in the whole-”

You wave a hand about as he backs off you, pulling his knee away from your heat between your legs.

“-‘Don't get caught’, thing. Sorry if i um- took it too far and make you uncomfortable…”

(Johnny looks down at you, pretty little oblivious thing, looking all sheepish and nervous as if there wasn’t the high potential you just saved both his and your asses with your quick thinking.)

“All good lassie. Good quick thinking.”

(As much as he’d love to tease you more about it- or even tell you just how much he enjoyed kissing you until you were breathless- he’s still on a mission, and you need to keep moving.)

(So for now, he settles for a hair ruffle and a wink. You smile all the same.)

The pair of you continue, and you are starting to wonder where you’re going. This ain’t the way you came in- though, you suppose coming in via the main entrance would defeat the point of the game. Which was of course: to sneak you out undetected. Walking through the hall of party-goers probably wouldn’t be the best call.

Still, it's odd when you find yourself stopping at a room. It appears to be locked, a passcode and everything. This doesn’t seem to be an issue though.

(“Intel says they left the hard drive here. Code is 269344041.” Johnny listens to Ghosts voice, inputting the code easily. He ignores the confused look you end him in favor of mumbling-)

“a’m in.”

You blink as he talks to his earpiece. Carefully and quietly as you enter the room, you ask,

“Um… sergeant? What are we doing in here?”

“Looking for a package hen.”

(“Should be in a small red box.” Ghost relays.)

“-Little red box. Help me look?”

You nod like the helpful little thing you are and begin to search the room. It’s a storage unit of sorts. Bunch of random shit, you even spot a cool ass box of skeleton bones. That you show to your newfound companion.

He grimaces and gently sets the box down away from your hands.

“Let’s not touch anything else alright lassie?”

It’s framed as a question but really it’s an order. You just shrug, and then remember your line was supposed to be, ‘yes sir.’

“Yes sir.”

The search doesn’t take long after that, a few minutes max before you spot a little red box high up on a shelf. All the things around it are collecting dust, but the dull red colored cardboard seems to be free of it. Placed there recently it seems.

Maybe this whole immersive thing was planned out, and maybe it was pure luck you got roped into it. Everything was awfully elaborate after all. With him knowing the code and stuff.

“Sergeant i think i found it.”

He’s on you in and instant,

“Where?”

You point up the shelf. “That it?”

He carefully grabs it, opens it up and shuts it before you can get a good look. Looked kinda like a flash drive? A flash drive inside a plastic baggie.

“That’s what we’re looking for alright. Good work lassie. Ye might as well be a recruit at this point.”

He’s joking it seems, so you smile back in turn.

“Lived a bit too cushiony of a life for military work i’m afraid.” You gesture once more to your royal outfit. “But i’ll consider the offer sergeant.”

He takes you by the arm, tucking the box into his vest and leading you to the door.

“Glad to hear it princess.”

After that, it’s more sneaking about, more little bits of banter whenever you can, and listening to him speak into his earpiece. It’s dreadfully fun, the most fun you’ve had all night and honestly? At any party ever.

Finally- Finally, you seem to make your goal as you feel open air on your skin. That took forever to get out, with how massive the place was, but by god it was fun sneaking around like a super spy with…

Oh. You come to the sudden realization that you don’t actually know his name. That and- you never gave him your name either.

Well, this is where you leave so…

“Hey i just realized i never got your name.”

He turns to you for a brief moment, his hands on your arm now, tugging you along away from the building so that the bouncers at the front won’t see you. The two of you stop a little ways away.

“Soap. Or Johnny if you’d prefer.”

He says it so simply, with such an easy smile.

“And you princess?”

You say your own back, and it sounds so nice on his tongue. So right.

“Um- if you wouldn’t mind-“ You’re fishing in your bag now for your barely charged phone, wanting to get his number because he seems like a stand up dude and-

Soap touches his earpiece, “Package and civilians secure L.T. Good to go.” He says it quiet enough you don’t hear it, too busy looking for your phone.

(“Roger. Gaz move in.”)

“-could i maybe get your number? After i find my phone, of course. it’s just uh, well i had a lot of fun. Truth be told the night was pretty shit before you found me so if it’s okay with y-“

Your eyes widen when you see behind Soap, several Military troops storming the place, all of them holding what look to be- very real guns.

“What the fu-?”

You start, dropping your phone in a shock and completely shattering the poor device against the pavement.

Johnny can’t seem to bite down his grin.

Slowly, and yet all too fast, everything clicks as soon as you hear gunshots.

At a snails pace your head turns towards Johnny. Soap. The sergeant. The real sergeant.

“I did tell ya it wasn’t a costume hen.”

You were such a fucking idiot.

——————

Awkwardly you sit in your chair, taken in for interrogation. Less that and more for protocol considering everyone agreed you didn’t know jack shit.

Apparently, you went to the wrong party and somehow ended up at a terrorist gathering, which would explain the weird vibes of all the guests. And the super big and confusing building. And the many locked doors. And the—

The more you thought about it, the more stupid you felt so at some point in the hours of being on this stupid military base, you stopped.

To your utter horror and humiliation: Soap was a real sergeant. On a real mission. And he gave you a real ass fucking gun. And you had kissed him and oh god he had his knee between your fucking legs- you called him daddy.

Physically unable to handle the shame and embarrassment, you make a noise similar to that of a dying cat and bury your face in your hands.

The person ‘interrogating’ you, (a nice man that everyone called Gaz), just laughed. At the very least your misery was amusing.

“I am- so, so so fucking sorry, oh my god i’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it love. It helped to keep you calm. Better than dealing with panicking eh?”

You nodded because he made sense. It didn’t mean you were happy about it- but it did make sense. Soap tried to tell you after all. Honestly it was probably for the best you thought it was all a joke. Who knows what you would have done if you knew it was for real, probably panicked and gotten both yourself and him killed.

Gaz pats your head, an amused but sympathetic smile on his face.

(God fucking damn it, were all sergeants just naturally this fucking charming??? …You don’t have a thing for military guys do you?)

When the captain of this whole thing walks in, John Price; with a smile like that of a damn koala bear and air of authority- you decide that, yeah. Maybe you do have a thing for military types.

Go figure.

“You're free to go love.”

You sigh with relief, mostly because you don’t physically think you can handle anymore embarrassment. Your face is starting to hurt from all the cringing you’ve been doing. How are you ever gonna live this down?

“Afraid your phones broken though. Do you know the way home?”

No. Obviously not. You were taken here via military truck with the other soldiers. Frankly you could be in a different country right now and you wouldn’t know because you passed out at some point from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

(Price of course, knows this. He just wants to see you squirm a little longer. Is it wrong? Yeah. But he’ll be damned if you aren’t the most fun thing to mess with.)

“Um no- sir.” You tack on the title quickly, unsure exactly what to call him.

“Alright. I’ll have one of my men escort you home.”

As long as it’s anyone but Johnny you should be able to survive a car ri-

“Soap.”

Fuck.

“Take my car and escort the little lady back home.”

…You just had to think it, didn't you?

(Price knows he’s cruel for messing with you. Mean and terrible really. But the face you make when he calls Soap into the room? Where you look like you go through every stage of grief before landing on depression in .5 seconds?)

(Priceless.)

——————

The car ride is just as excruciating as you thought it would be. Even worse- Soaps a good guy. Charming and fun, sweet even. He jokes and teases you but tries his damnest to make the car ride as comfortable as possible.

Hell he even offers to stop someplace and buy you something for the road. And offer you not let would refuse; but you were at the base for hours, and it’s like 2 AM and you are exhausted and hungry and embarrassed.

So the two of you get some takeout, and eat in Prices car. You would be worried about eating in the car, but Soap makes you comfortable, assuring you the captain would probably be more upset if he let you go home on an empty stomach.

The rest of the drive is cozy after that. He pulls laughter out of you, and embarrassed groans but it’s all in good fun.

By the time you get home, you’re most definitely a little unsteady on your feet just due to how tired you are. He helps you out of the car, and even walks you to your door.

Before he leaves, you awkwardly debate giving him your number. Just so you could buy him drinks or something later down the line to make up for your utter stupidity today- but then you remember your totaled phone.

Damn.

And then, a god seemingly hears your prays because he’s slipping you a sheet of paper.

Drowsily you blink down at it to find a king number string. A phone number.

When you snap your eyes back up to him, he’s grinning.

“You wanted it right lass? Give me a call sometime.”

And then, he’s winking and walking away. Just like that.

…huh. Maybe you should go to parties more often.

[age-of-play-i-say]

Sentence prompts, huh? Well, never let it be said that I'm not predictable...

"Oh sweetie - if you can't hold it anymore, just do your tinkles on teddy..."

-🐻⚡️

CG and potty-training Little are heading home from what was supposed to be a quick Saturday afternoon errand run: dropping things at the library, stopping by the grocery store, and then picking up some Thai food for tonight. Because they had meant to be out for 90 minutes, 2 hours tops, CG allowed Little to wear big kid undies, just this once! Little was so excited, they have yet to be out of the house with no padding since the potty training started! This will be their first test, and they're determined to prove themselves as a big kid. CG even asked them at the restaurant if they needed to go. Little knew home was a 10 minute car ride away, so they said no. They wanted CG to have no excuse to diaper them up for every outing like this. Unfortunately, the universe has other plans, and the two of them get stuck behind a car accident caused by some serious surprise road construction. No escape routes, no turn offs, no diapers, let's go.

CG: Whoa, what's going on up here? This wasn't here on our way down to the store.

Little: looks scary daddy!! *clutches teddy tightly* shiny stuff all over da road. . .

CG: Pieces of the car, yeah. Wow, looks like the clean-up crew just got here. We're gonna be sitting for awhile, Baby. Here, why don't you enjoy your bubble tea and watch a little Emperor's New Groove on Daddy's phone?

Little: really Daddy?? *bouncing in their booster seat*

CG: Yes, you've been so good for me and I don't want the accident to scare you. Go to your happy place, sweetie, I’ll call you back when we're ready to move.

10 minutes later:

Little: drinkie all gone Daddy! *wiggling with teddy* we almos goin home??

CG: Not yet, Baby. Looks like it's pretty complicated up there. Good job with your drink! Are you doing okay with your movie?

Little: *wiggling faster* hh- mm-hmm! how much longer till home??

CG: I don't know yet, Baby. Be patient for Daddy, okay?

10 minutes later:

CG: I know it's not fun, Baby, but it's gonna be okay, looks like the crew is about halfway done with their work. Can you keep being good for Daddy?

Little: umm!! wanna be good, wanna be big kid!! but um!! *hides face in teddy and plunges one hand down to hold tight against their baby parts, sniffling*

CG: Oh no! Does my sweet Baby need to make tinkles? And you were doing so well with your big kid undies, too!

Little: *crying and potty dancing in their seat with their hand on their undies* no fair!!!! ‘s no fair, Daddy, am a big kid!!! b-but needa make tinkles!! emerg-*hiccups, begins to wail* emergency!!

CG: Oh Sweetie, - if you can't hold it anymore, let's just do your tinkles on Teddy. Here, I’ll take him. Lift up your tush off the seat. Shhhh, it's okay, we’ll wash him at home.

Little: ahh! hhh teddy feels good, Daddy!! *wiggling and sniffling* woulda m-made it!! stupid cars!! stupidt road!! *crying louder again*

CG: I know it, Baby. This won't count against you for future big kid clothes, okay? For now, we gotta get those tinkles out before they start hurting. Come on, sweetie, you can do it. Can you show Daddy how you’d make peepee in your big kid potty at home?

Little: y-ye Daddy *reaches out to cling to Daddy's hand and sniffles once more before a loud hissing noise fills the car* ahhhh - m-makin peepee Daddy!! mmm teddy all wet!

Daddy: There we go, good Baby! That's Daddy's good, sweet Baby. Oh, that sounds like it feels good, sweetie. Are you feeling better?

Little: almos done peepee Daddy feels so good! *stream finally slows to a trickle and then stops while Baby shivers* hhhah all done tinkies!!

Daddy: And it looks like we’re moving again! Good job, Baby! Tell you what. You're right, that wasn't fair, and you didn't make a mess in your carseat. We’re calling this a success!

Little: really?? thank Daddy!! *bouncing on Teddy until Teddy squelches, then a little whimper*

Daddy: We’ll be home in 10 minutes now, Baby, but I have a question for you. Big kids get to choose, so when we get home, do you want to be cleaned up and keep wearing big kid undies? Or do you want soft, cozy protection after all of that? Keep in mind you won't have Teddy to snuggle for a few hours while I clean him up.

Little: ohh umm *hides face in hands* wan diapies Daddy, please!

CG: Of course, sweetie. You can wear your diapers, Daddy understands.

[kairiscorner]

Okay, this is entirely based on a situation I was in with one of my coworkers.

But, imagine Miguel coming back from HQ, in a bad mood cause he was stuck working with idiots, and he goes straight to the office to check on the other Earths. Lyla warns him to be quiet, he wants to ignore her but just plays along cause he can hear music from in there. He sneaks up, peeks in, and just sees his sweet little lady just GROOVING to some good ole y2k Spanish dance music. I'm talking Daddy Yankee's peak, Shakira, N.O.R.E, that music that got your hips absolutely moving. Bonus points if he's like everyone else and thinks she couldn't dance like that cause she's so "prim and proper" (According to Hobie)

I know I nearly killed my coworker with whiplash when that happened with me lmao gotta keep folks on their toes ~ 🍄

OMG I ACTUALLY MADE A BOT RELATED TO THIS IDEA, time to bring it to life yet again <33 I LOVE THAT FOR YOU THOUGH, 🍄 ANON !! i also dance when nobody's looking, IT JUST FEELS RIGHT OK !! ANYWAY, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he can't look away. — miguel o'hara x reader

fuming and muttering under his breath in anger, miguel rips a portal open into HQ and storms his way in the building. he had yelled his mouth off at a bunch of know-it-alls in his team and disengaged from the situation by storming off back to HQ to gather his thoughts and cool down. when he got there, the place was practically deserted. the only thing that was present in the atmosphere in the whole building was the faint sound of upbeat, lively music that reverberated throughout the empty halls of the building. "what now?" miguel asked himself with furrowed eyebrows as his mask dissipated and he trudged over to where the music was coming from. lyla appeared on his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. "you might not wanna go that way right now." she warned miguel as he wordlessly dismissed the AI assistant.

"i swear, if someone is throwing a fucking party up here, voy a perder la cabeza." miguel muttered to himself as he got up to the floor where the music was playing, and searched for the exact room where the party music was. he didn't bother knocking on the door anymore, he flung the door open and scowled. "what the fuck's going o-" miguel growled, but was soon interrupted by the loud music blaring and ringing in his ears, and the sight of his dearest little lover absolutely jamming to the music. their hips were swaying from side to side, their arms flailing in the air as they let the music overtake their body, doing such bold moves that nobody would believe they were capable of due to how sweet, innocent, prim, and proper they seemed (at least, according to some of the chaotic ones, like hobie, gwen, and pav).

miguel's mouth hung open as he requested lyla to lower the music slightly so he could focus on how his darling was grooving to the music, not having a care in the world as to what was going on around them except for the music carrying them away into the zone. they sang along to the songs and shook their bodies to the beat, with their eyes shut all the while and with a grand smile on their face, they danced and danced until they hit a wall; miguel's broad chest. they looked up at miguel and looked back at his broad chest, they soon got all embarrassed and turned off their speakers and looked down at the ground in embarrassment. miguel raised an eyebrow again at this sudden act of timidity.

"what's wrong? you looked so happy dancing, please..." miguel trailed off as lyla played the music even louder, with miguel taking your smaller hands in his as his face broke out into a small, sweet smile. "...may i dance with you?" he asked you as you looked into his eyes with bright, beaming eyes and nodded, a smile on your face again as you swayed with miguel and danced with him; this little dance party the two of you having together melting away the stress and tension he was experiencing earlier, where all he can focus on is you and the perfect way your body looked while dancing, and how his heart skipped a beat whenever he heard you smile and felt your hands in his as he spun you around and dipped you ever so often.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

[bijouxcarys]

Robert Plant is Not Ready to Retire: “I’ve Got Something to Say.”

Retirement isn’t on Robert Plant‘s radar. Along with revealing a North American tour with Alison Krauss during Summer 2024 and another series of UK headlining dates with his band Saving Grace, Plant said he still has more to do and hinted at the possibility of new solo music.

Since releasing “Raise the Roof,” his second collaborative album with Krauss, in 2021, along with his 11th solo album, “Carry Fire,” in 2017 Plant said he has been revisiting music he’s had archived away. 

Along with his 2024 touring schedule and sifting through unreleased material, Plant, 75, said retirement isn’t an option for him.

“The camaraderie, the things that you share up there, and the frailties that you know you’re carrying with you quietly, the exposure of yourself to yourself, is something that I would hate to say goodbye to,” said Plant. “I can’t just sit back. Out there in the real world, people say to me, ‘What about the book?’ And I say, ‘Are you kidding? What? This is spectacular. Why think about it twice?’”

Plant added, “This is today. What happened in Schenectady in 1969 is another story. And for me, the continuum must keep going. Today, I was pulling all my lyric books out and going, ‘Gotta get the groove back. I’ve got something to say.’ So yeah, I’m going to keep going—as long as they’ve got effects machines that make me sound good [laughs]. Well, it worked for Elvis [Presley]. Listen to the compression on his voice on some of those big ballads in ’57.”  

In October 2023, Plant performed three Led Zeppelin songs as a guest performer during a benefit concert at the Soho Farmhouse in Oxfordshire, England for The Cancer Platform, an initiative launched by the Cancer Awareness Trust.

Plant’s set included “Stairway to Heaven,” which he hadn’t performed in 16 years.

“It was cathartic,” said Plant about performing the 1971 Zeppelin classic. “People go, ‘Oh, that’s good. He never was going to do that.’ But I didn’t really do it. I just blurted it out, ’cause it’s such an important song to me for where I was at the time and where I was with Jimmy [Page] and with John [Paul Jones] and Bonzo.


[noirvette]

main 3! + reader who gets non verbal when stressed!!

i did a bit of research for this request, but i apologize if my portrayal isn't that good. also sorry for these being so short 😭 i got sick earlier out of NO where and my ability to think went downhill.

cws: none !

♡ STAN MARSH

Out of the three, I think he's the least equipped to handle it at first

Not saying he won't try, he'll put some research into it, but when it happens the first time he has NO clue on what to do

He honestly has so many thoughts running through his head, at first he thought you were ignoring him/mad at him until he realized your other behavioral traits

If you mention that you get nonverbal when you're stressed/sad/overwhelmed prior to it happening the first time, he'll be better equipped to help you, he might still panic though

Your comfort is always his number one priority, he wants you to feel safe and comfortable for as long as you're nonverbal

He may struggle at first with finding out a rhythm that works for the best of you both to communicate tbh.

He picks up on patterns relatively quickly though, so he learns your behavioral traits very easily when you become nonverbal

He mainly sticks to yes or no questions, but also will pull out his phone and use google images a lot

Despite him being the least likely to handle it well at the beginning, I feel he's the best at handling it long term.

For example, if you tend to stay nonverbal for longer, Stan is pretty patient and can manage and get into a groove with you

He isn't the best at de-stressing people though, he may try to help you destress by helping you with what's stressing you out in the first place, but Stan isn't a huge problem solver and instead focuses more on the present and ways to help you now.

He comforts physically rather than logically or emotionally, but understands if touch is an issue for you. He'll just let you know that he's there for you and then sits besides you

♡ KYLE BROFLOVSKI

Complete opposite of Stan LOL

I feel like he's picked up on sign language somewhere along the way growing up, and now I'm running with that idea for this

If signing is a way for you to communicate when nonverbal, he definitely uses what he already knows and then will brush up and learn more words and phrases to better communicate with you

Otherwise pictures and like a communication board is his next go to's

Out of the three, he's the best in terms of handling it right away

Kyle's pretty logical and so helping you solve the issue of why're you're stressed (if able too), he will help.

Despite that, I listed Stan's faults so I gotta do it to Kyle too, Kyle struggles with long term. If being nonverbal long term is a common occurrence, he's gonna have some trouble.

He makes sure to never take it out on you, but Kyle's pretty impatient and wants things to be solved relatively quickly when there's a problem to arise, he knows you can't help it so he's always patient around you, but his impatience is targeted at the root of the problem.

Despite that, like Stan your comfort and needs are put above all else. While he's taking time to help you destress, he's also trying to find ways to help you.

Whenever he gets stressed he likes quiet, just so he can collect his thoughts, so he does it for you too. Makes sure there's a calm and quiet environment for you, he doesn't want to accidentally cause you any more stress.

♡ KENNY MCCORMICK

Solid middle man

He's good at cheering you up with silly distractions if that's something you'd be okay with

Sticks to writing and yes or no questions

Kenny is sort've oblivious at times to behavioral traits, but when he does notice what's going on, he becomes focused solely on you and making sure you're comfortable.

If you're okay with touch when nonverbal, Kenny will gently hold onto you. He's a very touchy person, however touch is not for everyone and he won't do anything you're not okay with.

He'd probably play music to help calm you down.

He might actually take the longest to figure out a solid way to communicate, but only because he second guesses if he's doing this properly.

Is willing to just sit and be in the same room as each other, Kenny himself can go a while without talking, normally uses his time reading or playing some random free game. He'd let you join him and you two just sit in silence in each others presence.

When it comes to helping you with the cause of your stress, Kenny is similar to Stan in that he focuses more so on the present.

However, he does want to know what's the matter and see if it's something he can manage to help you with.

He comforts you emotionally rather than logically. Also is a pretty big physical comforter but again as I mentioned prior, won't touch you if that doesn't work with you

He tends to do a lot of reassuring words with Karen and this'll carry over to you.

[sapphuric-acid]

Lmao y'all I got a story

So last Monday I went to Goodwill after therapy and picked up a few men's pants and also a men's t-shirt. The younger guy at the counter was telling older folks "God bless you" and all that shit, normal small town fodder. And then we gotta face each other. And the kid's in the groove at his job, doing some theatrics like he's some Las Vegas bartender (we gotta respect someone who gets funky with their work) when he accidentally smacks a metal bowl I also happened to be buying against the counter. Anyways lovely little guy, tells me "God bless you" and all that shit and I go along with my day because I'm thinking "even if he was transphobic doesn't matter bc I'm the one walking out with the beginnings of a man's wardrobe".

Well I went back today, a little over a week later at a very different time, and it's the same fucking kid. And his register was the only one open. So we're both just going like :/

And then he starts making small talk, asking about the weather and shit. I tell him it's been alright, I get the card in the machine, and we're both kinda just waiting for the machine to process my chip. And I notice he's got black nail polish on.

He sort of sheepishly asks "you doing alright?" Which obviously took me by surprise because when's the last time a stranger asked YOU that. So I go "Huh? Yeah, I'm doing alright. Don't think this computer is though haha"

This was one of the few times the tapping feature actually works on the card processor, I just kinda gave up and assumed all of them didn't work so that was surprising. He gave me the same "God bless you" shit and I returned the favor and that was it. (Side note: he called me "madam" at least once, which is uh Certainly Something)

And like I know why *I* was awkward, but he didn't seem like the "I'm uncomfortable with the implications of your purchase because I hate queers" kinda awkward, so I'm wondering what the hell was going on through HIS head.

My best guesses are 1) he was being a good sport but is still transphobic, 2) he was Downbad, 3) he still feels bad about knocking that bowl against the table, or 4) he's super closeted and went "holy shit another queer in the wild"

And I honestly can't tell which one is the most humorous option

[99corentine]

How To Write Good by Corentine

THE DRAFTING PROCESS, PART 2/2

Writing guide continued! Here's PART ONE.

STEP THREE: THE START, THE END, THE BEATS

I’m of the opinion that every story should start with a bang. You could start mid-way through a notable event, as seen in GHD:

- O L H A - D - V - The words, incomprehensible, rattle around his head like the last rumbles of a great thunderstorm. Then, much like after a storm has passed, the air suddenly feels clearer, sharper. A sludgy fog he didn’t even realise he was in clears from his mind and he blinks, confused. The first thing he sees is his own hands.

If you want it to be especially punchy, you can start with a line of dialogue or a short sentence, like I did for T4T:

CHAPTER ONE: It is the end.

It’s reeeally easy to lose readers at the start, so you always want to write a strong opener. Something that grabs the reader by the collar and drags them in to read the rest of the chapter.

You don’t need to have all the details, but you should have at least a vague idea of how the story ends. If you’re writing fanfic that follows along the same plot as a game or existing story, most of the legwork is done for you – so writing GHD, I planned for it to end when Alduin was killed. As I got further into the story, I came up with a more narratively satisfying ending, because it’s okay if the ending changes. As long as you have an ending in mind, you have something to work towards.

So GHD’s original, very basic plot was:

START – the Last Dragonborn wakes up with total amnesia

???

He saves Miraak

???

They kill Alduin together – END 

Now you have to map out those ??? parts by deciding the major beats of the story, i.e. notable scenes. This gives you something to work towards other than the ending. I ended up with notes like these:

START – the Last Dragonborn wakes up with total amnesia

Who is he? Don’t spend too much time on this, not important, can be answered later

Goes to Solstheim, meets Miraak

Finds a way to communicate with Miraak – sneaks into Apocrypha? Shares dreams? College of Winterhold has psijiics, use telepathy?

Finds a way to save Miraak

Go to Apocrypha, confront Hermaeus Mora, save Miraak

They look for ways to kill Alduin together

Hermaeus Mora comes for them

Prolonged recovery, tells reader that even ‘redeemed’ Miraak is still scary

They kill Alduin together

What happens after Alduin?

(Redacted for spoiler purposes) – END 

The story beats should ebb and flow like the tide; high-octane scenes should be followed by periods of calm. You don’t want to do this too quickly or the story will feel like whiplash; rather this is a process that happens over many chapters. Let’s look at some examples in GHD:

⇈⇈ Miraak dominates telepathy and is really scary!! ⇊⇊ Chry wanders around Skyrim doing errands and Thinking About Life… ⇈⇈ Chry breaks Miraak out of Apocrypha!!  ⇊⇊ They recover from the ordeal and have a honeymoon period… ⇈⇈ They go to Blackreach and it’s visually awesome, and also Chry gets jealous!! ⇊⇊ They do misc stuff for a while… ⇈⇈ They talk to Septimus Signus, Mora shows up, nearly kills Chry!! ⇊⇊ Miraak whisks Chry away somewhere to recover in peace…

You see what I mean?

Right, you know roughly what’s going to happen. Time to turn that into words, baby!

STEP FOUR: GOTTA START WRITING

My actual writing style is its own separate topic so I’m not going to tell you how I structure a sentence or anything, just my literal writing process. 

In my chapter document, I start by making a bullet-point list of everything I want to happen in the chapter. What happens can, and probably will, change as you actually get the chapter down. That’s fine, you just need a starting point.

I very rarely write individual chapters in order, as in start to finish. Rather, I tend to write the scenes I can picture clearly in my head – then by the time I’ve written those I’m in a writing groove and the gaps in the rest of the chapter will come easier. When I’m done, I’ll stitch the individual scenes together, which sometimes requires altering the scene start or end to make the whole thing more cohesive.

There are times when the writer’s block takes me, and I have like two finished scenes and just cannot summon the words for the rest of the chapter. When this happens, to be honest, the only answer I’ve found is brute force: I sit myself in front of the computer, get rid of phone/alt tabs/other distractions, and force myself to type something. Or I hold myself hostage (i.e. ‘I am not allowed to play more Baldur’s Gate 3 until I have written GHD chapter 47’) that works too, for me anyway. 

Whatever it takes to get something on paper. What’s mostly important is to get something written, even if it’s not very good. You can always edit, rephrase or even rewrite sections later. Usually I’ve found once you start writing, you get into a groove and then it’s no longer a chore.

I also aim for a certain word count / chapter length while writing. I know a chapter is exactly as long as it needs to be and blah blah, but I set myself a minimum wordcount to reach. Or if I go way over the word count it’s probably because I’ve waffled too much, so I either aim to split the chapter into two, or to ruthlessly edit it back down again. 

For GHD I average 7,000 - 9,000 words, but I actually think that’s a bit too long and risks losing people’s attention span, so for T4T I aim lower, about 6,000-ish. Less is perfectly fine, but if I’m reading another fic I find a chapter length of 2,000 words or lower to be disappointingly short. That’s all personal preference of course, and certain fics will lend themselves better to shorter chapters.

Although I jump around scenes within each chapter, I make a point of writing my entire chapters in chronological order. If I’m on chapter 5, and I know something awesome happens in chapter 12, it’s imperative that I do not write chapter 12 ahead of time. If I do, I’ll reeeally struggle to write chapters 6-11, because I have already rewarded my brain by writing the cool thing. If I hold off, my enthusiasm to write chapter 12 may in fact motivate me to crank out chapters 6-11 in record time.

I do have one other thing – in my Scrivener projects I always have a document called ‘Unused’. Sometimes, usually at like 2AM when sleep has failed me, I’ll get a really good idea for some dialogue or description. I scribble it down somewhere (or it will be forgotten for sure) and later I type it into my Unused document, so it’s just filled with random bits of text like this (note, everything you see here is unused, so it's not going to feature in the last chapter of GHD):

At some point in time I’ll peruse it and think ‘yes, this line!!’ and drop it into a future chapter – again though I just write bits, not entire scenes or I’ll have written all the exciting parts already. Anything I edit out of a chapter (i.e. a paragraph I liked but didn’t quite fit) gets dropped here too, in case I can reuse it later.

STEP FIVE: FINAL EDITING

I will be honest, I’m pretty impatient. Once I’ve finished a chapter, especially if it’s one I’ve been struggling with for a long time, I want to publish it now. So I’m guilty of not editing as thoroughly as I should – but this is what I usually do and it catches at least most of my mistakes:

As a first step, I copy-paste the chapter from Scrivener into google docs. Remember I said Scriv’s word processor wasn’t the best? Yeah, it’s no good at picking up on dodgy grammar, but google docs is, so I run it through there and skim-check for wiggly blue lines, then make the changes in Scriv. You may not have this issue if you’re using Word or another more comprehensive software

In my great excitement, I publish the new chapter to AO3. As I re-read the chapter over there, I see a minimum of 5 glaring errors I somehow didn’t spot in the previous steps, and hastily correct them before anyone notices.

Once I know the grammar is mostly fixed, I run it through a text to speech software to read it back to me (surprisingly Microsoft Edge has quite a good one built in called 'Read Aloud'). You'd be surprised how many mistakes you pick up this way. I’m looking for whatever google didn’t catch, wonky phrasing, repetition (i.e. I used the word ‘quickly’ twice in the space of two paragraphs, that sort of thing)

Sometimes I do a re-read with a fresh pair of eyes, anywhere from hours to days later. If I have the patience, of course...

I like to get at least the first 2-3 chapters of a brand new story written before I post anything to AO3. This is to make sure my enthusiasm doesn’t immediately wane and I actually stand a chance of finishing it. After that I’m rarely more than a chapter ahead of what’s been posted, because go figure I’ll post the newly-written chapter once the editing is done, then start on the next one.

Some people won’t even post a story at all until they have the first draft fully written. This is admirable, but not always realistic – GHD is like 375,000 words, you think I would’ve sat down and written all that before posting chapter one and even knowing if anyone would read it? Hell no. 

But while you don’t need a story to be fully written, you do need it to be decently mapped-out. I used to start fics with absolutely no idea where they were going to go; I’d finish 1 or 2 chapters, get really excited at writing that much and hungry for feedback, then post something that I would inevitably lose all enthusiasm for and leave unfinished.

So, know how it starts, know how it ends, and know the story beats in between so you always have a goal to write towards. There will inevitably be fics that you never finish and that’s fine – it’s all writing practice – but readers don’t like to be left hanging, so try your best to finish! Even if it takes ahem four years or so.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

And there you go, that’s my writing process! I’m not sure how useful that really is, but if it was I could write more guides in future? I have…

A guide to my writing style (this one might be hard to put into a guide but people like my turn of phrase so, maybe useful?)

How I write a sex scene

How I write a fight scene.

[cumsockwoundpack]

LAST SEMESTER: Ch. 1. (t4t boydyke yaoi)

You've known eachother for a while, since freshman year. You were both at the same dive bar for the same local punk show since you saw the same flyer. They were the only other one to get up off their stool and at least halfassedly go through the pantomime of the mosh, the collective ritual. Wiry little fucker throwing their bodyweight at you. Pack bonding.

You both went out for smokes, looked at eachothers' hands, the sharpie'd-on X marks, the veins, the knuckles. Your sight lingered. So did theirs. You promptly lit your smokes and started shooting the shit about how "Ohhh, Man, Remember When Ceremony Stopped Doing Hardcore?" and "man I wish skinheads didn't ruin being a skinhead," and "new HKFY's fucking sick, right? Can I kill the rest of your ciggie? by the way what's your-"

His name's Ted. Ted and Jack. Rolled off the tongue a little.

You were fast friends after that - genuinely! Really good friends. Like two shounen protags.

Really. Just good friends.

You were at the local community college for trade school, they were there for music. You played bass because you were a caveman, they played guitar because they were smart.

You'd jam together, hanging out, watching movies, smoking weed. Tripped together in the dorms a couple times. Did molly together without fucking, somehow. Lord knows that's an achievement.

Somewhere in the four years between then and now, you both crystallized the realizations people have after listening to Tracy Chapman and being inexorably, inexplicably drawn to other likeminded freaks their whole lives. Dykes are like Stand users.

You got on your meds, started going by Jackie, made sure to lift here and there to keep your muscles from atrophy, he got on his meds and suddenly started spending a lot of time locked in his room. You both had your flings and conquests, sharing enough locker-room chirps with eachother to brag but not enough to break the aura of mutual chivalry. He also got a lot better at guitar - you'd know, you always paid (a completely normal amount of!) attention to his left-hand fretwork, his handling of the pick, his tendons underneath the skin as they flexed so deftly-

You blink.

You're in the drivers seat of your car, clutching the wheel a little too tight in the driveway of his new apartment - he finally moved out of the dorms for these last few weeks of your shared school career. You cut the engine and poke him to wake him up (he's kinda cute when he knocks out in the car like that. you're supposed to call the homies cute, right?)

"Aw, cute li'l thing, got tired? It's a fucken half hour car ride, dude, get up."

You hit the cabin lights to drive the point home.

"Mmnh... huh? Whuh?" -- he blinks, looks a little flustered. Not just disgruntled from an abrupt wake-up. Flushed cheeks, bashful little pout. (Why did you say that?) -- "We're here? Fuckin, help me get furniture in, then grab your amp. Gotta christen the home by pissing off the neighbors."

The apartment is a 1 bedroom, bare, all cold hardwood save for necessary kitchen appliances. He brought his desk, his bike, a new mattress, his stereo system coupled with all his physical media, a toolbag (put together from your recommendations), his laptop, his guitar and gear, and not much else. Clothes arranged on the floor in various states of disarray.

After bringing most of it in, working up a sweat, you cap it off by making some ramen to shovel down your gullets before getting down to business.

You both plug in, sit cross-legged facing eachother. You tune up and play for what seems like a few minutes but what the clock says to be hours, letting your attention wander since the less you think about what you're doing, the easier it is to stay in the groove, to keep the beat, to stay in-pocket. You keep time by looking at his left hand, as always. Thinking about when the next show's gonna be, whether that one DIY venue's finally gonna get their shit together and learn to not stiff local bands, when you'll find your next drummer (If you think male drummers are drama-magnets, lesbian drummers are worse, hands-down.), what the pit's gonna look like, the way he bounces off you to get momentum going.

His huffs of frustration when he fudges a chord, when the strings rattle and buzz, his bit lip, his furrowed brow, the sway of his head, his shoulders, the tap of his foot as it swivels on the heel, the way the heel-taps make the keys on his belt rattle, the DYKE PRIDE tattoo on his upper arm all sinew and tension and sweat despite the midwinter room temp, his black-brown-stress-grey stubble tracing a line from the temples to the jaw, his bit lip again -

"Jackie, baby, you've been playing that same open E string for the past, like, 15 bars... Why's your face so red? You good, girlie? Need a breather? I know I'm hard to keep up with."

"Fuck UP, dude. Talk shit when you aren't abusing those weezer powerchords like they owe you money."

"Ahh, I'm just messing with ya. It's, uh,".-he scratches the fade on the back of his neck - "getting late. It's like 11. You should probably head back. I don't wanna make you sleep on the floor."

What a great friend! You shake off the impression of wherever your mind was wandering and gather your things, you hop in the car, wave goodbye, turn the key - Nothing.

Must have left the cabin light on.

He's still looking at you.

Fuck.

You turn the key again. Fuck. Fuck. He doesn't have a car on hand. Fuck. It's late.

Ugh. He's knocking on the window.

"My battery's dead."

He deliberates internally for a moment.

You think about reclining the carseat and saying fuck it. You don't want to intrude.

"Ah, hell, it's Friday. Neither of us have shit better to do tomorrow. Come back inside."

You grab the hoodie from your backseat and put it on. Listen, it might be hardwood flooring, it might be like 50 degrees, but it beats sleeping in the car. Once you're curled up in the middle of the living room using a couple of his t-shirts as pillows and getting ready to sleep, he comes out of the bathroom brushing his teeth. In his boxers. Fuzzy legs. Treasure trail. Sweat on the inked barbed wire covering his chest scars. Looking at you almost like you're roadkill on his tire, utterly baffled at what you're doing.

"You nnmmoww you djon't, ope," - he zips back to the sink, spits, rinses, comes back out - "you know I said I didn't wanna make you sleep on the floor, dude. You're a friend. We're good. It's camaraderie. C'mon, get in bed. S'fuckin cozy."

You lay on opposite sides of the queen bed but, y'know, not overly spaced-out since you're not trying to, y'know, employ any no-homo buffer distance, but just, cuz, y'know, you're really good friends and you're comfortable with eachother. Right. Yeah. Gosh, these are nice sheets. Good at keeping the heat in. Li'l too good.

"Ted."

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I strip? i'll keep underwear on or whatever but this fucking hoodie is a bit too m-"

"Woman, I have held you over the toilet by the fucking scalp when you couldn't handle a couple vodka sodas."

"Sorry, I-"

"We have both asked eachother terribly embarrassing medical questions and given equally mortifying aid in the pits of uninsured existence."

"Jeez-"

"Besides, you already know my taste in women. You're fine. No stress."

"You sure?"

"Fucking strip, idiot."

You blush. Thankfully the lights are off.

He starts snoring surprisingly quickly. How cute!

Hey. Wait. Let's examine that. What the fuck has been with you today? It's not your first rodeo when it comes to your brain insisting that you shit where you eat, but him?? Him?? Fucking "Aww, cute li'l thing"? Christ. You half-consider propositioning him at some point tomorrow just for a quickie, like getting a song out of your head by singing it. Hell, you know he'd prolly agree to it out of sheer jackass bravado. He said it himself, you've both done worse.

But you don't need that. It's a line in the sand. He wouldn't look at you the same, despite both your best efforts. There'd be tension. You don't want to fuck this up. You drift off thinking about talking to your doctor to lower your progesterone dose, maybe that's what's got you so hot and bothered. The blankets are warm.

Waking up a few hours later, the first thing you notice is that you have to piss. The second thing you notice is his snored breath flitting across your ear. The third, fourth, and fifth things in quick succession are his arm around you, the fuzz on his chest pressed against your back, and the warm, granite-carved hand placed on your breast.

It's there gently, fingers splayed across it, a pleasant weight, and he's still 100% knocked out, so you quietly peel it off, set his arm by his side, and get up to piss. You explain it away as "Oh, he's a boydyke Casanova running on autopilot, that tender scamp," etc.

Though, it felt nice.

Felt too nice.

You shake it off and go back to bed.

You settle in under the covers. He's on his back and he looks agitated. Still sweating. God, the sweat. Neither of you showered, the day lays thick on your skin and almost fogs up thicker under the blanket. It overwhelms your sense of smell, it coats your sinuses.

He's shaking a bit. Little grunts n murmurs of fear and discomfort. You wonder if he's having a nightmare. Oh, poor thing.

Before you can think about it, you have your arms around him, your warmth pressed against his. It doesn't seem to do much, though; he's still tossing and fidgeting.

"Mmnh....Hey...."

You freeze. Oh god.

He snores again and his face screws up even harder in his sleep. Oh, oh thank God, he's still knocked out. That would have been embarrassing. You think about what you're doing. You think about the inevitable scene beef, the "Oh, Jackie? That fucking creep?-" coming out of his mouth and you try not to think about how much that'd hurt.

You think about how he smells nice.

He rustles again. You pull him in closer.

"..........mff, fuuuUuuuuhhgck," he whines, eyes still closed, still lightly snoring on the inhale, face still contorted in agony, wait, no, it's, oh, you realize it's not just sweat you're smelling as you feel the damp spot on his boxers rubbing on your thigh.

"Fuck, Jackie....," He's still asleep. It's not a nightmare. And it's about you.

And now you're hard.

And he's grinding on your leg,

"Jackieeeeeeeee........"

And his face is buried in your tits, his face so taut, pressing into your sternum hard enough he's suffocating himself and you're frozen still and

His eyes snap open as something deep within the limbic system reminds him he needs oxygen, he pulls his face away, scrambles back, takes a deep, DEEP fucking breath, and now you're BOTH looking at eachothers' eyes, horrified, breaths stuck in throats. He's cute when he's scared.

And then he looks you down. Then back up. Then back down, where it's definitely too late for modesty. Then back up.

You notice you were drooling. He does too. You see him set his jaw. You see his brown eyes crystallize, noticeable even in the low light. He's hungry.

"You're cute when you're scared," he says.

And then your lips are locked.

[ch2 link] [ch3 link]

[tonberry-yoda]

hoping this finally works before matchups close!!! had to rewrite it like 3 times lmao. Hopefully this is enough info

I’m a musician - first chair violinist! I love classical and jazz, but i also LOVE LOVE LOVE metal and punk music. My type is hard to explain kinda i think??? Twink or large 💀. Instrument players too!!! Love watching them perform all serious and into the groove.

I’m a very touchy person. I like being able to hold onto people, it grounds me and reminds me that i’m there. I really want a chaotic relationship. We tease each other, get into play fights. Sweet moments of course, but not ALL the time. There’s gotta be a level, y’know?

I’m a big nerd! Planing on majoring in Marine Biology so i need someone to listen to me when the fish make me go crazy. I compose my own pieces centered around ocean awareness and am generally a very outward person. Got questions? Ask me! And if I don’t know, i’ll ask my coworkers at the aquarium!

Really, i just need someone to keep up with me being really energetic and playful all the time, but also listen to my ocean ramblings :P

Thank you so much!

notes - hey, hey !!! sorry this took so long dude, i have been BUSY, but I'm happy that im getting back into a little bit of fanfic writing :) i hope you enjoy this lil matchup <3

THE CHARACTER I CHOSE FOR YOU IS...

HOBIE

YALL WOULD TOTALLY GET ALONG !!

literally the perfect music man for you

he would just sit beside you and practice playing his guitar because he knows that you love it

he would adore playing music with you, even if your instrument clashes a bit with his

it would be killer music i think

yall would be such a goofy cute couple and he teases you so much. like always trying to get on your nerves, but not to the point of being an asshole. he's just that perfect level of goofy that you need

AND HE WOULD BE SUCH A GOOD LISTENER DUDEEEEE

ramble to him all day and he will remember word for word what you told him all while listening with a little smile on his face

he thinks youre the most interesting person in the world and loves to hear you ramble

you two would actually be so perfect for each other it's not even funny <3

[suburbanbonfire]

tagged by @18minutemajor for a hockey art share tag game! I enjoy talking about myself but am terrible at posting so this is perfect. i WILL talk too much, this is a threat.

rules: post your first ever hockey art, your latest hockey art, and your favourite hockey art, then tag three hockey artists.

FIRST ART

I made the Kraken Orb (Korb) at the end of the 22-23 season, as a commemoration, although a sort of ironic one considering i had only gotten into hockey in time for the playoffs so there are a couple players here i actually never got to see play at all before making this (Joonas, Jaycob, Burky, Fleury)

it was a whole lot of fun though! Prior to this i was in a months-long art slump after leaving a fandom, so it was a total surprise to have hockey of all things be what revitalized my art.

technically, the very first hockey art from this was Matty; you can kinda tell by the way his lines are a bit thicker than the rest since i wasn't in my groove yet. i also knew coming in that i wanted to arrange the faces in a circle, but didn't plan out beyond that, so i just made sure that i was getting a variety of head directions in my references and hoped for the best. My favorites from this are Gru, Soucy, Dunn, Schultz, Borgen, and Eeli. I think they all turned out really well.

LATEST ART

MEAT CUT MEAT CUT

this one is fun for me because it's quite different from my usual style of art, with lineart and non-realistic forms/face. I've had the concept in my head for awhile after hearing/reading so many interesting descriptions of the physical qualities that good hockey players possess.

'Sacrifice the Body' actually came in mid-art when i had an epiphany doing something like driving my car or an activity similarly unrelated. Before that, it was going to be a lil heart drawn on the chest and the going contender for the label was 'Ferda.' which would've been great, but sacrifice the body just worked too dang well with the themes.

FAVORITE ART

i mean, c'mon. it's gotta be this one.

my magnum opus, my white whale. it came out even better than i saw it in my head and i love everything about it. when i came up with the idea, i had TOTALLY forgotten that Climate Pledge has those giant windows, so when i set out to find references and saw it, it instantly made everything even better with LIGHTING!!!!

It was my first time drawing this kind of interior architecture and although there's definitely things i would do differently now, im so so proud of how it looks and turned out. I was also still drawing through my decade-old laptop at that point, so I had to split up the work on this into two files - i sketched everything, then worked ONLY on the bg until it was about 90% done, then made a flattened copy to open as a new file to draw the players on top of.

I also have a bunch of WIP shots of it in my drafts I guess I'll throw in here now!

initial sketch to get down the composition before i remembered the window | lines of the building! i actually found a 3d virtual tour of CPA from before it was built which had the PERFECT angle, so i screencapped that and straight up traced the architecture. Ultimately, the scoreboard and the paint lines ended up getting moved around.

planning out my lighting in greyscale (i really need to do this more often, i struggle with values so much, alas) | in progress bg! at this point, the ice and the boards/glass were the only things completed. I eventually said 'fuck it' to being able to see the areas behind the stands like you could in all my references, and just put the people dots all the way up.

Now the most gut-wrenching part

THE TAGS

this is where me being bad at posting comes into play, because instead i just lurk and thats not great for forming connections HERE GOES

@ruinedcasket - it has been awesome seeing your art progress! would love 2 hear your thoughts about it

@rouzys - your kraken stuff is so pretty, love how you capture likenesses

oh god oh fuck everyone else i know has already been tagged fuck oh sshit

If You Are An Artist On Hockey Twit And See This, It Is A Sign