#Sound cancelling foam

[noiseproblemsonline]

Can sound cancelling foam soundproof a room?

You have just shifted into your dream apartment, but there is one issue. It is too noisy! Therefore, you have to invest in sound cancelling foam, thinking that it will soundproof your space.

The reality is, while sound cancelling foam is a great material for lessening specific types of noise, it is not a generic solution for soundproofing a room.

Most people don’t understand its abilities, thinking it can completely block away sound, which is far from the truth.

Therefore, if acoustic foam and sound absorbing wall strips is not the silver bullet for soundproofing, what is it great for? And what options should you consider for more effective sound isolation?

Let us delve into the amazing world of acoustic materials and rubber isolation mounts to find out.

When people think about reducing environmental noise, acoustic foam frequently comes to mind.

Acoustic foams are highly effective materials for specific types of noise control, but it is vital to differentiate between noise reduction and soundproofing.

In easy terms, the materials of noise reduction such as acoustic foam can reduce the noise impact, but they can’t eradicate it completely. Acoustic foam is designed to absorb sound waves, specifically those at higher frequencies, but it does not block sound.

Knowing these differences is not only a matter of semantics. It has realistic implications for anyone looking to address noise problems.

Conclusion

Channeling through the world of acoustic materials can be an intricate attempt, filled with varied solutions and technical terms.

Nonetheless, the basic takeaway is clear. Acoustic foam is a strong tool for lessening high frequency noise but is not a permanent solution for soundproofing a room.

Along with this knowledge, you are well on your way to creating a serene, more peaceful space customized to your requirements.

[noiseproblems]

Lessen noise to lessen stress

The noise within your home will never compete with that of the external world. Nonetheless, it should be a sanctuary from the disruption and brattle of your ambience. With easy solutions to lessening indoor noise, you can turn a commotion home into a healthy and happy one with quilted fiberglass absorbers.

Ample information on health and noise

Definitely we have all heard there is too much fat in our diet. Okay, perhaps there is too much noise in our diets also. Well, you can’t eat noise like a pint, but you definitely can feel it, and the eventual result can be more frustration and stress. Research shows that women exposed to loud noise are more likely than men to indulge in common junk foods such as chocolate, chips and popcorn. To avoid such situation, you should install sound absorbing wall strips.

The research took three groups of men and women, asking them to complete common math issues while exposing them to optional levels of noise. The third control group wasn’t exposed to any noise during their problem solving fundamentals of environmental noise.

Most of the floors bounces sound around just like a rubber ball, but cork flooring is literally a noise reducing product. Other noise reducing domestic tricks include drapes, pillows, slipcovers rather than blinds. Small spaces across windows and doors can also allow undesired sound in. Close them up with weather stripping. Shelves with valances, book and also potted plants can assist. And sound devices can add a bit of serenity throughout the houses.

The kitchen can benefit also, with wood cabinets, throw rugs, and stone tables, all sound absorbers like a sound cancelling foam. Noise is something we all have to live with. But it doesn’t mean we have to like it or unable to do anything.

[techdriveplay]

Why the Skullcandy Crusher ANC 2 are the Ultimate Headphones for Snowboarders

Snowboarding is more than just a sport; it’s an experience that merges the thrill of the slopes with the rhythms of your favorite tunes. For snowboarders seeking the perfect audio companion, the Skullcandy Crusher ANC 2 emerges as a top contender. Released on May 16, 2023, these headphones are not just about a mature design but also pack a punch with their bass-heavy sound profile and a range of…

[st4rbwrry]

   𝐹𝐸𝐸𝐿 𝒮𝒪𝑀𝐸𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒩𝒢.

꒰ eren’s really sore from football practice and you give bby a massage. ꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 3.1k, fem!reader, lowercase intended, body betrayal, submissive eren + whimpers a lot, established consent aka cnc, dry humping, pain kink, eren’s pathetic fr, oral ꒰ m + f ꒱, handjob, love bites, choking, ‘daddy’ said once, creampie, rennie’s embarrassed :( , minors aren’t welcomed! comments + reblogs are appreciated!

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . listened to the nastiest, filthiest sub va audio and babyyyyy, woooo! never been so turned on in my life.

“ughhhhhhh!”

you can hear the painful groans a mile away erupting from the bathroom, eyes peaked over your glasses after you spun around to investigate the suspicious sound. you’re perched up into your soft pink swivel chair where you sat cross legged and comfortably zoned out into an intense mission of call of duty, trying your best not to drool over ghost and konig. the curved monitor in front of your face brightly lit, feminine colors fading in and out from the lights planted around your pc set up. kawaii kitten headphones covering your ears muffling your surroundings.

knocking them off of your ears, you’re able to hear the shower running loudly, the noise cancellation blocking out any movement around you. there’s only one person who could be in your shower right now, and he revealed himself before you could come to the thought. steam flows towards the ceiling as the bathroom door swings ajar, your boyfriend’s sandalwood soap illuminating the room while steam levitates off of his tanned, tatted skin. a pout seeps into your expression when you see the softness in his face, every step he takes towards your bed shoots excruciating discomfort through his muscles.

“baby!” you stand to your feet, the warmth in your chest to see his presence heightening, but the worry in your eyes overtaking all. “what’s wrong, ‘ren?”

“mhmmmm,” he only groans, a towel around his neck and his skin only covered by basketball shorts as he flops face forward onto your bed, hissing from the aches and spasms. accidentally shoving your plushies out of his face and onto the floor from clear irritation.

sometimes forgetting he had a key to your apartment, you’re reminded of him telling you he was coming to see you after practice, overworking himself to the brink of death these past few weeks considering draft season was up and coming. eren needed to make a good impression, and him being an overachiever, it caused his body to slowly deteriorate. waking up at the break of dawn to gulp down green juices and muscle powder before he’s running around his neighborhood for two hours. then he’s going to the field after classes for extreme training with coaches who considered him a son. people who are in his ear constantly worshiping his achievements, including his family — pressuring him to be great. to be something.

the air in the room is cold, and it’s a serenade to his body, like icy hot. he releases a heavy sigh from his pillowed lips as he rests on his stomach in agony.

“i’m so sore, baby!” eren practically whines, the muscles on his toned back shifting as he reaches for a pillow to elevate his head. any small movement is like absolute hell. “fuck, i fucked up.”

“awee, ‘ren. i told you that you needed to slow down.”

sitting beside him on the bed, your knees sink into the memory foam, looming over his figure, putting on your motherly face. relaxing your shoulders, you bury your hands between your thighs, observing him to see what he needed.

“you’ll be limping to the ceremony if you keep this up. there’s only one more game, love.”

“yeah, and it has to count. they’ll be looking at my highlights and shit, and i need to be in their top list,” eren turns his face to look in your direction, his brown hair tied into the back of his head, slightly damp. “once i’m drafted i’ll take a break.”

“okay,” you leave it at that, knowing he’ll pursue a whole rant if you pressed any harder. it kills you to see him hurt, but you know in the end it’ll pay off. you didn’t have faith in him for nothing. “want me to massage you?”

“ooh, yea baby, please,” eren wants to clap to show his appreciation, but can barely move his upper body. he’s clutching a pillow tight to his cheek, lashes kissing his cheekbones with his pretty verdurous irises shield behind lids. lips upturned and his bushy eyebrows furrowed when your hands apply pressure to the back of his calves, kneading the skin with your thumbs gently. “thank you.”

a soft smile tugs on your full lips, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you focus on making him feel better. “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“coach had me doing fucking agility courses today, it feels like my entire body is boiling with lava.”

“how’d you even make it up the stairs?”

the warmth of your palms soothed his body, aside from the horrible pain running through him from every touch, you made it a little better. eren whimpers softly the higher your hands go, reaching his lower back now, leaning over him some more to reach his tough spots. he nearly forgets to answer, his knuckles turning white and the veins on his hands leading up to his forearm protrude the harder he grips onto the pillow before him.

“nng, fuck,” he gasps out, muffling his sounds slightly by the cotton stuffed fabric, shifting his hips the deeper the pads of your thumbs sink into his hips, dainty fingers feathering along his skin, blood unbeknownst to you, rushing to his dick. those happened to be his sweet spots. “higher baby, please.”

he says it mostly out of panic, and you oblige, smoothing your hands flat on his back to rub there, beauty marks littered on the canvas. “you didn’t answer me.”

“sorry,” he groans when your hands come to his shoulders, applying pressure with the carpal bone of your hand, dragging straight down to his forearms with your stomach laying on his back. smelling your aroma and feeling the softness of your inner thighs. he blushes, hating his body for reacting the way it is currently. “i-i climbed up the stairs. was hunched over the entire walk to the door.”

“flip over for me.”

“shit. m’so weak right now,” eren mumbles frustratingly, trying his very best to turn his full frame, reaching out for your hand to help. you interlink your arms with his, as if giving him a hug, chest on his to flip him onto his back and position him comfortably. it felt like you were his damn caretaker.

“your knees hurt, baby? have you been wearing your knee pads?”

“mhm hmm, yea. i try to stretch a little before i run in the mornings. sometimes i . . . forget,” the salvia in his mouth glides down his throat as he swallows, seeing your spine arched and the darkly inked butterfly tattoo on your lower back as you focus on rubbing on his knees, and up his quadriceps. “unh, shit.”

“right there?” your tone is soft when you speak, doe eyes attentive when you look up at him and it makes his dick grow semi-hard.

“yes, it’s good, mama.” goddamit. he isn’t trying to sound like it’s obvious he’s turned on right now. he’s literally in too much pain to do anything to you, at least the way he wants.

you hike his shorts up for further access, massaging into the tissue to alleviate the discomfort, eren’s head knocking back as he hisses and grips onto the sheets. you watch him deliriously, trying to ignore the throb of your clit from the visual before you. but he’s making it impossible from the noises he makes. it’s not new, you’ve heard him whimper and moan before when he’s fucking you, but it’s rare when it sounds this . . pathetic. his pain shouldn’t arouse you, but it does.

your face is dangerously close to his dick, your black prescription glasses slipping even further as you try to block out the sounds he’s making by working your hands into his frail muscles. you make it back to his hips which stutter from your delicate touch, trying to hide your smirk when he whines helplessly. he’s breathing heavily, biting down on his lip as he covers his eyes with his right forearm, trying to hide his embarrassment. you’re pawing at his chest now, throwing your leg over his waist and sitting on his abdomen, feeling his dick on your ass cheek.

“fuck, what are you doing?” eren stares at you immediately, brows furrowed as you knead at his biceps, smoothing your hands up to his wrists you grip and eventually pin down to the bed above his head.

“making you feel better,” you pout, lifting your lower body to scoot your ass back and foment your pussy onto him, the subtle gasp leaving his mouth like a symphony. “you’re hard.”

“wait, baby,” eren whines again, struggling to fight the entrapment that you have on his wrists, too weak and sensitive to fight you on it. “i can’t right now. i’m too sore.”

“just lay there,” you tell him, gyrating your hips and rubbing yourself over the fabric of his shorts, barricaded by your silk black ones. his eyes glower at you, mouth going ajar and out comes another desperate whimper. “i need it. you sound too pretty.”

“baby, please. this is so embarrassing,” he goes to shimmy free, but whines from any sharp pain hitting him, entwining your fingers to hold hands as you arch over him, leaving a delicate kiss to his lips.

“you don’t want me?” you ask, batting your lashes as you roll your hips a little faster, humping your clit onto the swell of his dick. you moan, burying your face within the crook of his neck to slick your tongue over his flesh, the slow dragging making his dick pulsate.

“i-it’s not that, god,” he’s heaving now, afraid he’s going to break under you. physically, not possible. but mentally? yeah. he’s not usually the submissive one, so this was a bit out of character. “stop grinding your . . pussy on me.”

now his voice is really breaking, his moans growing high pitched and his whines dragged out and subby. you felt a high you never felt before, being the one to dominate is a rarity. it was a small conversation the two of you had briefly, but never did you think he’d actually let you pursue it. taking the lead felt too good.

“but i w’na grind my pussy on you,” you’re moaning in his ear now, eren’s turning his head to the opposite side to let you sink your teeth into his neck, leaving love bites while he groans. he couldn’t keep his composure with you. “you need to be in pain more. you sound too good. i’m so horny now.”

“you have issues,” he shakes his head, gasping when you nip at his adams apple before kissing it. licking your lips and humming, beginning to hear the squelch of your pussy in the silent room.

“you gave them to me.”

eren doesn’t even realize that his arms are free now, laying limp beside his head as he watches you crawl down his thighs to pull his dick free from his shorts, wrapping your hand around his dick that practically stretches over the shape of your face. it’s leaking precum, and you waste not a drop of it, slapping the head of his dick on your tongue. his fingers are grasping the sheets again, stationed beside his waist and watching you swallow half of him into your mouth.

“baby — damn,” his stomach caves in when he hits the back of your throat, esophagus forcing itself to laminate his dick with more saliva. he’s completely devoted to you, staying still and letting you work. if he had the strength he’d lift his hips and fuck your throat till you’re gagging. “shit. shit, i love being in your mouth.”

you moan around him, twisting your wrist at the base while sucking on what you could, his dick fat and blowing up your cheeks. his eyes fall shut to listen to how you take him, pink lips parting with his eyes drooped in pleasure. you get him wet enough for extra lubricant, popping your mouth free and removing your shorts. he licks his lips at your glistening entrance, your white toes touching his leg as you spread your legs next him to finger yourself open. pretty hair cascading over your features in dark curls, slurping up saliva in your mouth as you stare darkly at him while you grind sensually onto your two fingers.

“c’mon, baby. don’t be mean,” eren groans, hand reaching for your ankle to use whatever strength he gained to drag you closer. “lemme see. c’mere.”

whimpering yourself, you scoot closer to his face, gripping at the edge of the bed as he clutches your ankle, the good bracelet with his initial on it swinging. everything else in his body hurt, even his dick ached now and it was your fault for being so fucking sexy. one thing he could use to his full ability was his mouth, and as soon as your folds are spread wider by your fingers, that’s when he’s kissing at your clit. puckered lips sucking and pulling at her with fervor, jaw widening and clenching as his tongue dips into your hole and he begins bobbing his head, the lewd, downright filthy sounds of your pussy creaming on his tongue.

“ooh, eren,” a squeak lets out, your eyes almost falling shut and drowning your vision. the moans from the both of you are guttural, flowing in sync nearly. he’s sucking on your clit like it’s a pacifier, cocking his head back to spit on her before grunting and flicking vigorously. savoring your taste on his tongue.

your hand goes to wrap back around his dick, spitting in your hand after a prolonged moan and jerking him off, the wet sounds ricocheting off the walls.

“ahh, fuck. oh my . . god,” the moans only grow louder from you, face screwed up the faster his mouth moves. jaw shifting even quicker and you match his pace with your hand, making sure to stay near the tip to watch his hips twitch and hear him moan. “i’m g’na cum, ‘ren.”

“unt unt, sit on my dick, baby,” he immediately removes his mouth, licking his lips and laying on his back again. “you wanna tease me, so fuck me.”

your legs tremble as you crawl above him, knees indenting the bed on either side of his waist, looking behind yourself to hold his dick still and slowly slid yourself down. the stretch is always good, adjusting by now after extensive training, aka eren literally making you lay there and take it inch by inch until it fit and felt right. his dick fully sinks into you, your knees buckling instantly from the fullness, hoisting yourself up by clutching onto his legs behind you.

“f-fuck!” it vibrates through your body, that euphoric wave that he’s sucked into your own. sexual chemistry, soul tie if you will. your knees interfere, making your pussy squeeze tight and eren can do nothing but clasp onto his own angelic hair, his tatted forearm with a cuban link on his wrist killing your clit. hair long fallen out of it’s tie.

“she looks so pretty like this,” eren hums, sucking on his lip before spanking the outside of your thigh hard, trying to coax you into moving. “lemme see her suck me in and out.”

rolling your lips inward, you moan as you raise and drop your ass down, skin interacting loudly with his own. eren hisses with rouse, drinking in the view of your juices coating his cock, dripping in fact. the visual evidence of him splitting you open as you rock on him to fuck yourself makes his brain explode, unable to choke his moans down. tossing your head back, he studies the art of contour. your neck, chin, and nose. the curves, the area of fat on your tummy . . . you are beauty divine. and you’re so damn hot.

“you’re so damn hot,” it’s spoken the same way he thought it, perhaps with more vigor.

you feel yourself getting close, so you lean yourself forward and get ahold of his wrists again, that red tint coming back to his cheekbones. your body is flat to his, and you listen to your wet pussy glide up and down as you drop your ass back heavily, his strong thighs hitting it. you’re breathing into his mouth when he goes to kiss you, your pace getting harder and you hear him whimper again and again. the pain and pleasure mixing. that soreness in his body fucking with him, but serenading you.

“fuckin’ get it,” eren grunts in a hushed tone, his words persuading you to bounce harder, making it sloppy and incredulously loud. “get it, baby. make a mess. f-fuckk . . unh.”

“oh my god,” the noise you make is a mixture of disbelief and arousal, shaking above him while he throws his head back into the pillow exposing his gorgeous neck, silver chain sprawled intricately within the contours of his neckline. he’s driving you absolutely insane. “keep moaning like that, baby. it’s so good. i can’t.”

“you g’na fuck it till it hurt, too? you like hearing me in pain that bad?” he locks eyes with you again, body trembling with pathetic whines leaving his throat.

“y-yess, love it,” you admitted, swirling your ass and riding him faster, tears brimming your sockets. “you’re so pretty, daddy. you’re hitting my spot.”

he watches as you keep yourself where you want, his dick curved into that sweet part making your eyes gloss white, grinding harder while digging your nails into his wrist, mouth agape and precious broken moans escaping. that pressure in your tummy bursts, and you’re cumming while still fucking him, squealing and crying as you drench his pelvis. that sends eren to overdrive, muttering a stream of expletives before he’s nearing his orgasm not long after.

“ooh, shit. get up, get up. i’m finna cum.”

“n-no,” you add more of your strength to overpower him, keeping him flat to the bed as you lean up and roll your hips. he looks up at you with warning, your gushy walls sucking him in the more you clench and cum. batting your lashes as his hands wriggle in your grasp, upper body shifting from being overwhelmed with ecstasy. “fill me up.”

“awe, fuck me, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck!”

whimpers, shaky moans, and whines. they’re all playing a part in how he releases and makes you cum again as he’s cumming, screaming in the air as he fights through his aching body to spank your ass fervently. filling you up like you cried for. his noises are dry, like they’re fighting to get out. coming out in weak, fucked out, high pitched grumbles and keens. almost like he’s in goddamn heat. it’s all so hot. he hates his body for the ultimate betrayal of submission. but also, hates to admit he fucking loved it. excruciating pain aside.

“get off me,” eren heaves, swallowing from a dry mouth and his excessive moaning. “please, baby. i can’t take it. i’m sore. i’m asking nicely.”

smiling, you wrap your hand around his neck before sticking your tongue out to glide over his lips, tasting him and begging for entrance, giving him a nasty, overjoyed kiss.

“i’ll give you another massage, sexy.”

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[fuctacles]

Hearing is important

For @steddiemicrofic "plug" | 437 | no cw | musician Eddie, crushes, pre-relationship | thanks @blasvemous for the idea 🥰

"Soundcheck in five! where the fuck is Eddie?!"

Eddie Munson was everywhere. Because somewhere in this fucking venue, there had to be a spare set of earplugs. He kept asking around, everyone had their own noise-canceling headphones on, but someone told him about spare cheap foam plugs in the green room.

He burst in there, grabbed a handful, and was now running around leaving a trail of neon foam pieces behind, searching for something better. He inevitably runs face-first into Chrissy's clipboard. 

"Eddie!" She grabs his shoulder in a vice-tight grip, her manicured nails surely leaving a bruised indent in his skin. "We need you for sound check!"

"Well, I need ear protection for Steve, because he's being stupid!" he huffs back, and her glare softens. 

Her eyebrows crease together while she holds his vibrating form anchored to their plane of existence.

"Did you check the green room?"

"Yes!" He waves the fistful of earplugs, and it's a good thing they're best friends, because he'd get decked otherwise. 

"Try the security room, I'll check with roadies."

He nods, and they move in separate directions, each with their own quest.

"Do the sound check without Eddie, something came up but he'll be there asap," Eddie hears Chrissy's voice in his ear. Sometimes, he wishes they didn't have unfortunate homosexual crushes on their friends so that they could become the perfect unproblematic heterosexual power couple. But alas. Steve and Robin existed and were fucking hot. 

Eddie was about to interrupt the broad men clicking through camera footage when he heard someone yell:

"Sir! Mr. Munson!"

And he turned his head to see a green-haired guy waving at him. He wears the same walkie and ear equipment as the rest of the staff so he takes a step back to look at him inquisitively. The guy waves a pair of headphones in the air and Eddie perks up with hope. 

"Heard you were looking for some ear muffs. I carry them around in case of panic attacks," he says once they reach each other. Eddie hesitates. 

"Are you sure it's okay?"

The man shrugs. 

"Just give them back to me at some point. I'm CJ, the staff knows me." He pushes the earmuffs into his hands. 

"Okay, shit, thank you so much!" Eddie grins, squeezing his arm in thanks. "I'll make sure they get back to you!"

And then he's off to find Steve. 

Steve, the lovely dumbass who said he doesn't need earplugs, he'll just take his hearing aid off. 

But Eddie needs him to hear the 'I love you' he's going to say once he grows a pair. 

[agentbobr]

ahem. yandere!sebastian headcanons bc im bored >w<

✸ ~ yandere!sebastian who leaves you in his walk-in closet that he asked robin to build him a few months before taking you :3

✸ ~ he uses the excuse that he records his piano samples for sam in there when anyone asks why he's buying and putting so much sound-canceling foam around the walls of it.

✸ ~ robin gets happy when she sees sebastian getting seconds of dinner to bring into his mini-fridge for later when in actuality, he's just feeding you with them.

✸ ~ there's not much hope for escape, since he leaves you tied up constantly, and if you need to use the restroom, he simply makes you wait til night and brings you himself! how kind.

✸ ~ but at least he plays games with you, mainly dnd. you two have your own campaign where he acts as both the DM and a player (so he can guide your two characters to get together,,, <3)

✸ ~ he makes sure you have a nice futon at least, and maybe once he trusts you won't run away and tattle, he'll let you go back home! with the catch that he's going to live with you. there's no way that he's letting you get to far from him afterall. ^^

[syoddeye]

the lift

gaz x f!reader | 1.4k words cw: alcohol a/n: received a powerlifter x kyle prompt from an anon. i don't normally take requests, but i've been itching to write something sweet for him. influenced by a recent thing i wrote up about gaz flubbing a flirt. i'm a normie/casual weightlifter. apologies to actual powerlifters. 🏋️

“Fuck me running.”

“Sounds difficult.”

“Get a load of her.”

“Pick your jaw off the floor, and stop staring, lech.”

“You’d be no better if you just looked.”

Gaz rolls his eyes at Soap’s stupefied expression, watching him miss his mouth with his pint glass. Foam spills over onto his shirt, causing the Scot to jerk in his seat and stare at his own appendage in offense.

View must be good for Soap to make himself more of a fool than usual. Kyle adjusts his cap, turns his head to the side in a feigned stretch, and immediately clocks the distraction in question.

A woman in a backless top sits alone at the bar with something fruity in hand. No bra band in sight, no tan lines either. That’s not what glues his eyes to her, though. It’s the rippling muscle the cut of fabric shows off, defined and apparent as she lifts her glass to drink. It continues south, too, her thick thighs spilling over the narrow stool. She looks like she’d give Ghost a run for his money. Like she’d rip him in half like a phone book.

He needs to talk to her.

Kyle turns back to Soap, dabbing at himself with a fistful of napkins. He downs the rest of his beer and then stands.

“I’ll get us fresh drinks.”

Before the lout can breathe a word, he beelines to the bar. Only. When he gets there, it occurs to him he doesn’t know what to say. Any other pretty face, he’d toss out one of his corny but winning lines. Send over a drink. With her, her muscles more impressive up close and wholly focused on a women’s football match, he’s tongue-tied. And that doesn’t happen often. Must be the moon’s position or something.

He bides his time, staring through the screen like he’s watching, thinking of what to say. Avoids the bartender’s curious gaze.

Then, an elbow knocks his arm very gently.

“Fishlock’s a beast, right?”

Kyle’s head swivels, eyebrows to his hairline. The target of his ill-planned op glances between him and the television.

“Yeah,” he sputters out a second too late. “She’s…feisty.” He could break his glass over his head. Feisty? What was he, eighty years old?

To his delight, she laughs, and a rush of heat flares in his stomach at the sound.

“Understatement of the century.”

He chuckles in disbelief at his luck. She gives him another smile. Fuck, he is done for. 

“You want to join me? Had a friend cancel, and I hate watching alone.”

“I’d love to,” he says, dropping into the empty stool probably too quickly. Their knees touch, but she doesn’t pull away. He fixes his eyes on the screen after placing an order. He watches the Welsh battle the Ukrainians, absorbing as many names and numbers as possible. His phone burns a hole in his pocket, and he can’t help but wonder how soon he can excuse himself to the toilet to read ten articles on women’s football for a refresher.

When she chimes in with a comment or a jeer, he does his best to reciprocate. Using talents he’s cultivated for infiltration and interrogation to string along a conversation in which he has no business participating.

It goes swimmingly until—

“There y’are, thought I’d have to find a bloodhound.”

Soap.

Kyle shifts in his seat, leveling a stare he hopes both contain whatever bullshit Soap’s preparing to spew—heaps, judging by his awful smirk—and communicates an unsubtle do not fuck this up for me. 

“Who’s this?”

Kyle opens his mouth, apparently in preparation to insert his own foot. He hasn’t gotten around to the name bit yet. Too busy learning about women’s football in real time. He looks sidelong at his would-be companion, another soft smile coming to his rescue.

She introduces herself, and he tries not to tack on a silent Garrick at the end of it, just to feel how it sounds. Christ, beyond done for.

“Pleasure to meet you.” She says.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. Name’s John, and this is–”

“Kyle. Like he said. Pleasure’s mine.” He offers a hand without hesitation, grinning when she takes it. Nearly groans at the calluses on her palms and fingers. Didn’t know he was into that. He smirks inwardly. Hm. Learning several new things today, Gaz.

“Are you…also here to watch the match?” She asks, gaze flitting between them.

He stares hard at Soap again and witnesses the devil himself whispering into the Scot’s ear. It’s truly an act of divine intervention when the other man shakes his head.

“‘Fraid not. I’ve got to run along, but Garrick’s all yours tonight.” He winks unctuously, waggling a brow to really sell it. “If you don’t mind watchin’ him.”

She smirks and pats his knee. “I’m sure I can handle him.”

Soap looks downright rakish. “Oh, I bet you can. See you in the morn, Kyle.”

He’s torn in two: she’s touched his leg and Soap’s cheek about tomorrow. The idiot lives a door down. They’re both on for PT at 0500. Dickhead.

“He’s friendly.” She muses as they return to the match.

“Too friendly. Like a failed police dog.” He mutters.

“Hmm. Does that make him a bad soldier?”

It takes effort not to choke. Their career, generally speaking, isn’t a secret, only their activities. Still. “Smart guess.”

“Despite his creative haircut, you’re both decently cut and we’re, what, twenty minutes from a base? Plus,” she shrugs. “His tattoo. Giveaway. I would’ve said ‘reenactor wannabe’, but your reaction confirms it.”

Kyle’s tongue swipes behind his teeth. She gets better by the minute. “Yeah? And, uh, what do you do for work?” Something physical, he bets silently. Something that necessitates her kind of build or creates it. 

“I’m a tailor.”

Or…not at all.

He can’t stop himself from blurting out. “So the muscles are—“ He abruptly stops, fingers gripping his drink tightly. Sweet Freddie Mercury. Forget smashing a glass over his scalp, he’ll vault through the front door headfirst.

“Powerlifting,” she proudly shares, setting her cocktail down to flex. Her muscles jump beneath her skin, straining into a mesmerizing landscape of strength and power. “My main hobby. If I could make money off it, believe me, I would,” she swings her frame forward and twists, showing off her traps. “But I learned how to sew and alter clothes when I, uh, outgrew conventional sizes.” Disdain paints the word. “Everything I’m wearing I customized to fit me, and me specifically.”

“Genius.” he says simply, mind half-blank when she turns forward again, flexing her biceps and forearms toward her lap. So she’s good with her hands.

A fist uncurls, and a finger crooks up. His face lifts to a smug smile.

“Impressed?”

“Thoroughly.” He swallows.

Her eyes drag over him, slowly and methodically. Picking him apart like a piece of meat. He suppresses a shudder. Yet another thing he didn’t know he liked. 

“How much do you weigh?”

A simple enough question. One he’s asked every so often, especially in medical, in between formal physicals. Coming from her, however, it’s an invitation.

And it is.

Straight into her arms.

Half the pub’s watching when she hoists him parallel to the ground, overhead, and squats. For a brief moment, arms crossed over his chest and back rigid, he swears he hears The Time of My Life. When she returns him to solid ground, to the cheers and toasts from the small crowd, he might as well still be in the air. Heavenbound. Preparing to meet Peter.

Eventually, the atmosphere calms, and he finds himself thigh-to-thigh with his strongwoman. They watch the remainder of the match, chatting—mostly about sports and work, but a bit about the little things—he’s not too thick when she offhandedly mentions knowing the neighborhood well. That her place is a few streets over.

He needs to be back on base before sunrise. He tells her as much outside the bar after the Welsh suffer defeat in penalties. He can relate to the feeling, knowing Soap’s gonna give him hell and Price will ream him out if he’s hungover. 

“Kyle, you’re cute, but we’re not at the sleepover stage yet,” she teases, picking invisible dust off his shirt. “I can give you a lift when you’re ready to leave.”

Strong. Witty. Confident. Can absolutely rip him in half. There is nothing he doesn’t like about her. So, so fucked. 

He grins stupidly when she beckons with a finger, beginning to walk toward her place.

“Premium?” He jokes, following. “I don’t settle for anything less than top-tier car service.”

“Not that kind of lift,” She answers, looking over a sculpted shoulder. “Fireman or princess?”

Kyle almost stumbles.

“Yes.”

[piratefishmama]

I Wish | Part 5

It felt like he was underwater.

Everything moved by so quickly, the sounds of an applauding audience, the greeting of their host, the friendly back and forth his friends engaged in. His friends attempted to pull him into and failed because he’d checked out the moment his backside hit the cushion, it all sounded so muted, all muddled together.

He sat on the couch, nobody questioned it, although Jeff gave him a curious once over before he took the lone chair closest to the host, allowing Eddie to sit between Dougie and Gareth, safe, secure, protected by the scrappy little one and the big protective one.

It wouldn’t have been too far from the truth to assume him fragile enough to need protection.

The Host was lovely, just as Steve had predicted, just as he'd promised. The host held up a little foam board prop with an image of what Eddie assumed to be an album cover printed onto it, asked questions that Jeff answered.

If anyone thought Eddie's awkward quietness was strange, nobody mentioned it.

Even the host, whose job it was to engage with them all seemed to realise that Eddie wasn’t quite right in the moment, so he naturally glossed over him, let him be to give the others in the band the limelight.

They couldn’t pin point when it started, and so there was no point in trying to bring him out of it there and then and risk a blow up that could have the appearance cancelled.

It was only after the laughter inducing back and forth regarding a broken arm Gareth sustained on their last tour thanks to an unfortunately aimed stage dive, well into their interview now, that the spotlight finally landed on Eddie.

“So, Eddie!” Eddie jerked to attention, eyes snapping to the host as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar “A little birdy told me that you and the rest of corroded coffin, are all seasoned Dungeons and Dragons players, is that right?” Eddie’s eyes widened a fraction further, as the audience cheered, forcing Eddie’s gaze away from the host to the audience in surprise.

It was… something to be excited about, now? Their nerdy little game, that’d seen them ostracised society, caused panic among the god fearing crowds, and had suburban mothers clutching their pearls overdramatically, was something to be excited about?

The muddied sound seemed to clear just a little. He knew this. He knew DnD. Even if they hadn’t played for a while, even if they had played recently and he just didn’t know, he could spin something with that!

What many in the audience would have called Eddie’s signature toothy grin lit up his face, and for the first time during that interview, he seemed to come alive. “Hell yeah we are, Jimmy! Although many a lost little sheep have come and gone from those hallowed halls of my legendary domain, we’ve been playing since middle school! Garebear not so much, he came to us in high school, guided by my good man Jeffinner over there with a character that so utterly not him that he died way too fast in the game to have been any note.” Jeff rolled his eyes at the nickname, but seemed happy that Eddie was finally talking.

“That was how we became friends really!” Gareth chimed in “Me an Eddie anyway, he thoroughly wiped the floor with us on my first campaign so I thought that was it, they were kickin me out, but NOPE he cornered me and helped me out rolling another character in one of the empty labs, made something way more myself, it was… really cool of him. It was my first year of high school, first attempt at making friends, I was terrified an he just… he’s always been really good at that, bringing people in, making them feel accepted.” An if Eddie felt himself getting just a little choked up at how fond Gareth spoke of him, well… that was between he himself and him.

“Well GOOD, because few of my friends an I, have been playing a campaign—” the audience collectively oooh’d as the cameras opposite them swung around to face a now lit up set of what could only be a campaign mid-way through. The map was down, the DM screen was set up, the mini’s were placed, dice were available, there were even character sheets and binders full of information on them resting neatly at each station along with drinks and snacks. It looked like a party had just got up and left mid-campaign. “—An we’re kinda new to it! But I’ve seen on your Instagram that your narrations are something of legend… so I think, we would all just love it if you’d DM a little for us.” Interest piqued, Eddie looked back to the host. “I simply do not have the gravitas to pull this off the way it ought to be done.”

He didn’t know what Instagram was, but he sure as shit knew how to DM something.

“Race you” was Eddie’s only comment, before he was up and scrambling over like a kid who’d just been greeted by a mountain of presents under a Christmas tree, definitely not the 50-something year old ex-addict he now was, earning laughter from the audience that felt real instead of prompted.

For the first time since waking up in that older, weathered body, Eddie felt like maybe not everything had to be bad about that possible future. At the very least he still had DnD.

He made it to the table first, granted he was the only one racing, but he set himself up at the head of the table behind the DM screen and immediately got to work while his bandmates found their own seats for the cameras and their audience. He skimmed through the pages in front of him, the scene their host had set up, the campaign they were working on, or at least what little notes they had on it as it clearly wasn’t a full campaign.

Just a set piece, an activity to fill the time, something to do, but Eddie could work with it.

“Oh hell yeah…” Eddie crooned to himself as he looked over the notes, it wasn’t much, but it was more than enough, he had a town name, he had a list of NPC’s both living and deceased, he had notes on his bandmates new characters, he even had a little script to make his own for the scene itself, but best of all… he had the details of the enemy. Something he hadn’t heard of before, something that didn’t exist yet in his own time, something that definitely didn’t belong in a little snippet scene like that one. It looked to belong in something long, but… soaking in the details of it… he was gonna fuck his friends up when he got home.

“That doesn’t sound good for us” Gareth sighed with a gentle shake of his head, already counting down the minutes before his poor little gnome would meet his inevitable end. Poor thing only had a few hit points left, which was curious considering their mini’s appeared to be situated at the gates of of a simple town by the sea. No dungeon to be seen.

“Tell me about it” Dougie groaned, head in his hands

“Alright alright, are we ready boys?” Their host seated himself on the left of Eddie, his own sheaf of papers in front of him, looking exactly as Eddie had done initially, like a kid at Christmas.

Eddie looked up over his screen, a glint of mischief in his eyes “dim the lights please! Spotlight on me, I require atmosphere.” The lights dimmed save for one lone warm white spotlight on him, the star of mayhem to come.

“Was nice knowin you, gents” Jeff sighed, already accepting the fate of his poisoned ranger. This poor party were in dire straits despite there being no clear villain, or any potential followers of it to be seen on the board.

“The Haunting bell of the town square clocktower rang thrice, echoing through the misty din of Rainwund Harbour’s early morning air” Eddie lifted the mic on his jacket closer to his lips and with the back of his throat, made a sound not dissimilar to the chime of a clocktower bell, once, twice, a third time, and then silence “You walk the deserted lamp lit cobblestone streets, your once sure footed steps wearied, your bodies strangely tired, worn, exhausted, trudging your way through eerie silence until you come upon your destination, The Seabird Inn…” He smiled with a devilish glee, the point of his canine tooth brushing his bottom lip, cheek dimpling with the pull of his smile if any of them felt comfort before he smiled, it was gone now. “Roll for Perception.”

Part 7

[malum-forev]

Heyyyy can you please do “protective” from the bingo where reader is protective of Bucky? 😘

Hi hiii! I'm so sorry for the delay! I've been swamped with work but I finally got a chance to write this one! Hope you like it!

When had the shift begun? When did you start to become protective of a man who needed no help in that department? You had no idea. Actually, scratch that, you had no idea how any of this had happened, how your once normal life was now turned upside down- sometimes literally thanks to Peter.

You were riding on some sort of rage high after being dragged along for one too many job interviews just to be let down at the last moment. “You’re not a right fit”, “I really wanted you to be a part of the team but management went with another option”, “Don’t worry, you’ll get another job”, these phrases had been floating around your mind like a teleprompter on a loop. So, one night when you had too much time to be navigating on a job search website- and honestly, had one too many cups (or maybe bottles) of wine, you applied for the job. The one you’d always wanted but thought you were way too underqualified for. And you sent in your application, an overconfident – way too drunk- alter ego spoke up. 

Suddenly, you were starting your first day, lanyard over your neck and nervousness crawling up your arms. You’d heard some rumblings about why the position had been vacant for so long, him being uncooperative, rude and sometimes purposefully sneaky. Creating havoc and a long trail of messes you’d have to clean up.

You still remember the first time you saw him, you’d been told to look for him in the training room and avoid eye contact. The large doors creaked loudly as you entered, making everyone look over. Men and women far more fit than you’d ever be, covered in spandex. So much spandex in such a little space. 

“Are you going to stand around all day or do you plan on doing something other than being late?” His gruff voice made you sweat. 

“I-“ You tried to get out but Bucky was already busy with something else. 

You placed your camera and your work bag on the stands and walked over to him.

“That’s what you decided to wear?” He furrowed his eyebrows, taking you in.

 “Miss Potts said something in between casual and business casual was alright.” You muttered, tugging down on the edge of your sweater, your eyes glued to the floor.

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up for a second then he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay…”

Bucky cleared his throat and the twenty some agents straightened their backs and got in formation. “We’ll start the sparring session with your fellow agent, let this be a lesson. If you’re late, you’ll be part of the demonstration.”

He threw over an unsharpened knife to you and got in position. Your face filled with worry as you took in his stance, Bucky was ready for battle. 

You barely managed to dodge his first punch but suddenly, Bucky grabbed your sides and threw you over his back, you fell on the thick foam floor with a thud and a yelp. 

Bucky towered over you, confused as to why the agent they sent for the sparring session wasn’t getting up from the floor. 

“Where did you say you were trained?” Bucky sounded stumped.

“I wasn’t.” You managed to get out through ragged breaths.

“They sent me an untrained agent?” Bucky threw his head back in annoyance.

You sat up, slowly regaining the air in your lungs. “Actually, I’m your new PR representative.”

The training room filled with laughter. 

“Oh god.” Bucky muttered, helping you get up. “Why the hell did you not tell me you weren’t an agent! I just body slammed you!”

“There’s always a first time for everything?” You offered with a small smile as Bucky’s cheeks turned bright red. 

0-0

It was now a year later and the job turned out to be better than you thought, Bucky wasn’t as bad as people said and now you knew how to successfully fight back after a body slam- Bucky had told you it was imperative you knew some self-defense. 

“Can’t we just cancel?” Bucky groaned, fidgeting in his seat, making the makeup artist’s job way more complicated. You noticed she was two seconds away from giving up so, you decided to relieve her of her duties.

You picked up the makeup sponge and dabbed some concealer under his eyes. “You’re starting to get a diva reputation.”

You didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips turned upwards at your words. 

Bucky’s eyes followed your face. “If I were a diva, I wouldn’t have shown up here. Lord knows I don’t want to do this interview.”

“The only reason you showed up is because you know I’d drag you from bed into this makeup chair myself if you hadn’t.” You smiled, adding powder. 

“You’re taking too long with my makeup, making me self-conscious about my undereye bags.” Bucky feign fainted. 

You bit your bottom lip. “You only say that because you want me to compliment you. I know what you’re doing, Barnes.”

Bucky let out a throaty chuckle before taking a deep breath.

You grabbed both of his shoulders. “Look at me, everything is fine. I’ve talked to their team and specifically written out approved questions, which we’ve rehearsed. This is just some dumb PR so people know who’s out there saving their lives.”

Bucky nodded, taking in your soothing words. “When I enlisted I thought being a soldier would be a lot more fighting and less makeup and interviews.”

You smoothed his leather jacket and took a lint roller down the sides of his pants. “You’ve done way too much fighting, now’s the time for you to sit back, answer some questions about your workout routine and look pretty.”

Bucky smiled. 

“Remember, I’m just behind the camera. Everything they’re going to ask you has been approved, you have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

“I trust you.” He gave you a short smile.

The hosts of the morning talk show seemed nice. Emphasis on seemed. The interview was going just as planned, until the male host decided to go rouge. 

You almost spit out your coffee when you heard his question. It almost registered in slow motion.

“So, when you’re alone at night, do you ever regret not being able to be The Winter Soldier? Or is there a part of you that is still controlled by those words?” He said with a smug smile, he almost seemed proud of his question. 

Bucky gulped at the question and he felt his hands start to fist, only you could recognize this as a sign of anxiety filling his body.

“Go to commercial.” You barked at the morning show director. “Go to commercial now!”

The show cut off and you stormed onto the set. 

“You asshole!” You yelled at the host. “You just wanted to get your little five minutes of fame, well guess what! The only thing you’re getting is a big fat defamation lawsuit, how does that sound!”

“This is the entertainment industry, no one wants to hear about how clean and PG he is now. We want the nitty gritty.” He rolled his eyes.

“He is a person! He was used and you just want to get the fucking story.” Your words leaked like poison. 

Bucky took your arm lightly. “Let’s just go, it’s fine.”

You saw how his kind blue eyes saddened. This is exactly why he never wanted to do interviews, he had resigned to people knowing him only for the bad and not the good. 

Well fuck that. You thought. 

You freed yourself from Bucky’s arm and used the momentum to swing at the host. You punched him straight in the cheekbone. 

“What the fuck!” The host shrieked. 

“That’s enough.” Bucky muttered, taking your body and swinging it over his shoulder. 

You banged on his firm back. “Put me down! I want to take another hit!”

“Thank you everybody, we’re going to leave now.” Bucky yelled as he carried you out the doors and into the parking lot. 

Once you got back to the compound, Bucky started to ice your purpling knuckles. 

“Looks like my PR Rep is going to need a PR Rep of her own.” Bucky finally said with a chuckle. 

You shook your head. “It’s not fair. You’re amazing and kind and nice and- people only want to see someone you’re not. You’re not him.”

“Look, doll,” Bucky sighed. “I appreciate you standing up for me but, I’ve made my peace with that. I don’t do this to get recognition, I do it to help people. So, if they want to believe I’m still the other guy then, let them. Because I truly don’t care what they think.”

You huffed. “But-“

“No buts.” Bucky interrupted, placing a chaste kiss on each of your knuckles. “Instead, let’s talk about how cute you look bein’ protective. It’s nice to know that whenever the super serum stops working, I have myself a pretty effective bodyguard.”

You burst out laughing. 

Pleaaaseee be sure to comment, like and reblog if you enjoyed it! Remember, one comment = one kiss on my forehead! <3

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour @hallecarey1

[autisticempathydaemon]

Redactober 2024 Day Twenty-Eight

Prompt: Sam & Scent

Pairing: Sam/Darlin/Quinn because I want to watch the world burn

cw: smut, threesomes, feeding, light degradation

Your head lolls back onto a muscular shoulder, and you hope the scent of the man behind you might give you the answer.

Available on AO3 here!

<- Prev Day | Next Day ->

“Go on, Precious, show him how well we fit together, how well you know my touch.”

“Hear that, Darlin? Sounds like somebody’s got somethin’ to prove. Ain’t that sad?” Quinn growls, the sound just reaching your ears through your noise canceling headphones. Through the fabric and foam, you can hear your boyfriends’ voices and their different accents but can’t place whose voice is coming from where, whose hands are roughly stroking between your legs and whose hands are bruising your hips as you’re fucked.

“Get on with it, poppet. We won’t let you come or rest until you guess.”

“And you’re not gonna come at all if you guess wrong, so you better put that pretty head of yours to good use… if you can.” A hand- large, strong, cool to the touch, indiscernible between one man or the other, spanks your thigh with a crack, and your cries are embarrassingly loud in the echo chamber of your head.

“Use your words, pup. We’ve trained you better than that.”

“Should we help them out, Q? They sound so pretty and are tryin’ so hard; I reckon a hint can’t hurt.”

“Samuel, you’ll spoil them rotten,” the English vampire playfully chastises, betrayed by the audible smile on his lips. Even as he chides, you feel two hot breaths on either side of your neck, two sets of fangs sinking into your flesh, and two tongues licking and kissing your blood off your skin. Your head lolls back onto a muscular shoulder, and you hope the scent of the man behind you might give you the answer. Unfortunately, all you can smell is the metallic tang of your blood, the musky sweat of sex, and the humiliating, leaking mess you made all over yourself when they bit you.

[saltpepperbeard]

I feel dumb, but could you please explain the apparent subtext of "complimentary meetings" 😗 thanks!

Oh, I might be reading into it too much/incorrectly because I’m just mad at everything right now lmao, but the way I took it was WB being like “Aw. Sorry we cancelled your show, buddy! But here are some free and complimentary meetings to talk things through with us and other streamers! We don’t actually have the INTENTION of seeing this all through, but we thought you might appreciate it! 🥰”

To me, it’s giving “David Jenkins is entitled to a free extra hour in the ball pit” type deal KAKDAJ 😭😭😭.

Again, might just be entirely misinterpreting that wording because I’m tired and upset, but it also really sounds like some shit WB/Max would do, doesn’t it?

But it could actually also mean complimentary in the “compliment-giving” sense. Like, he met with some folks and they hyped it up, but it just never got off the ground for whatever reason.

Either way, I’m still just 👹. I’m foaming at the mouth and running laps around WB’s headquarters.

[noiseproblemsonline]

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These baffles are hung horizontally or vertically using grommets and installation is very simple and fast. We provide a wide range of sizes and colors to accommodate any size or style of the room. These are just some of our favorite innovative solutions for controlling the acoustic reverberation time in big rooms. Each of the baffles has their own advantages and the ones you select will eventually be dictated by the ambience in which they will be used. Get in touch with our team if you have any queries and we will assist you to get a solution that works for you!

[utilitycaster]

A few more OGL updates:

The important takeaways here are:

WoTC has said they will have a comment period in which they will take survey responses lasting no fewer than two weeks after the OGL is officially made available for comment, prior to or on this coming Friday, January 20, 2023. (I would encourage using this; please note that when you send the equivalent of anon hate to companies, they assume you are not a potential customer but rather a foaming-at-the-mouth weirdo and will disregard what you have to say. I mean, you can do what you want, and I can't guarantee what will happen as I do not work for WoTC in any capacity, but I have worked customer service, and the screaming haters get ignored as being nutjobs. You know what talks loudest is, of course, canceled subscriptions if you're still unhappy.)

This clarifies a lot of things that were never up for the chopping block, but which were frequently mentioned in rumors, which I think is good to have. Namely: actual play, things like minis/maps, and contracted D&D-related work are not under the OGL anyway and never were, and can continue; anyone still bringing those up is actively fearmongering and can be ignored.

Material published under the OGL 1.0a is still fine as is; this only applies going forward. It is not revoked for past materials.

VTTs are unaffected; see point 2 re: people still bringing them up.

Most crucially, there will be no registration or royalties, nor ownership of material made under the OGL. This was I think the most worrying part.

Obviously, this is a statement and not the draft, so if the draft lacks these provisions, give 'em (polite but firm) hell, unsubscribe, etc.

A couple of other things to note just in general:

Mark Hulmes has a really thoughtful video about everything (made prior to this last announcement) that I highly recommend skimming through at the very least; I think he covers the personal/emotional aspects a lot of players and actual players may be experiencing.

Never be afraid to ask people for sources for non-anecdotal information. If they can't provide them, consider what that says about their information.

I think a lot of the things other companies have promised - either new licenses for their materials, or new systems - sound great! They are also, at this time, unpublished. Do be aware and skeptical when people are giving them endless benefit of the doubt as saviors of the TTRPG. They may be as good as they sound! They also might never materialize; or they might be inexpensive and great for players (who are willing to leave D&D, anyway) but will leave small 3rd party publishers high and dry. SRDs simply aren't feasible for smaller publishers, who rely on the income from every purchase. If you've said you're concerned for 3rd party publishers, why not put your money where your mouth is and buy some OGL 1.0a-based materials?

[naturepointstheway]

7 with munkoffelees please 🥺

Mistoffelees, who has always harboured a crush on Munkustrap, discovers the latter has a little secret cafe, warm and cozy with a roaring fireplace to chase away the winter outside.

Mistoffelees blinked as he stopped before a small vintage container that had the words “Secret Cafe” written across it in chalk, with an arrow pointing down, leading his eyes to a set of stairs descending to a closed door with a small sign in the window: “open”. Pulling his purple puffer jacket tighter around himself, he jammed his gloved hands under his armpits to try to warm them up even more, the frosty breeze whisking over his red cheeks.

Should I go in?

He really could use a hot beverage to be honest, maybe a hot chocolate with some cinnamon to really warm him up from the inside out? Maybe a big mug with plenty of chocolate dusting and some soft, melting marshmallows dipped in foamed coconut milk. There was just one thing stopping him, whirring around his brain with an anxious buzz.

What if there’s too many people?

He had no doubt that in this frigid wintry weather, with fresh overnight snowfall blanketing the distant hills far from town, everyone would be making their way into any cafe they could to wrap frozen fingers around a cup of their favourite hot beverage.

It’s still really early in the morning, he thought, Maybe there aren’t too many people?

It was worth a try, he decided: it was either stand here and continue to freeze in this weather, or go inside and soak up some warmth in a comforting mug of a steaming hot beverage. Maybe a chai latte? Maybe a mocha?

I’ll just peek inside, then decide.

That was the best course of action, he decided, now unwinding his arms from about his chest, lowering a hand to trail down a railing as he descended the stairs, leaving the bustling street behind him. The relief of creating distance between himself and the cacophony of people hustling along in the morning rush commute grew with each descending step toward the small door with its simple, yet inviting, sign. Though the half-moon window didn’t allow him to see much of the interior, he still spotted a couple of lights were on, suggesting at least a little life inside, even if it was just a lone barista texting on their phone to stave off the boredom of a quiet start to the day. No doubt the lone barista would be blasting their favourite tunes into a pair of noise-muffling headphones too, putting a pep into the morning’s step.

On reaching the ground at the bottom of the stairs, he held on a moment longer to the railing, allowing himself to take a couple deep breaths, to steady and ground himself here, where he had now a good distance from the cacophony jangling and vibrating and quaking far above him. Unlike him, his imagined barista at least remembered to bring along their noise-cancelling headphones.

Now calmer from taking his deep breaths, Mistoffelees shuffled to the door, twisting the handle to open the door just a crack, both ears tall as he listened intently to gauge the interior’s noise and business levels. He had expected lots of laughter, chatter, and some cheesy music attempting to cheer up the cold morning, but instead was greeted by the warm embrace of quiet piano music and minimal, if any, chatter.

Huh… doesn’t sound like anyone’s inside.

No doubt, though, there would be at least a couple of students or workers huddling over laptops and tablets as they worked on last-minute assignments with scrunched foreheads and tired, baggy eyes.

I can go in… maybe a quick drink.

Assured thus that it wasn’t too noisy nor crowded inside, Mistoffelees pushed the door the rest of the way, hastily stepping inside and shutting it behind him to keep the winter outside right where it belonged. He leaned his back on the door, hands pressing against the wood, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes to soak in the warm interior, the distinct crackle of a fireplace, someone typing on their laptop, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. The soft piano music whispering in his ears was a welcome note of calm and comfort, helping him feel like he was at home already.

I want some waffles and coffee now. Do they make waffles here?

The approach of footsteps on freshly polished wood, familiar in their cadence, weaved a new melody through this calming atmosphere. He opened his eyes, heart leaping as he saw Munkustrap coming toward him, looking well put together with his knitted turtleneck jumper, plaid trousers, and polished black shoes, his head fur well groomed as always. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, although Mistoffelees could see he looked a little concerned at the same time. Mistoffelees’ heart skipped another beat as Munkustrap drew up close to him, folding his arms as he looked him up and down, the lines on his face soft in the dimmed light.

“Morning, Misto, lovely to see you as always, but you do look frozen half to death.”

Mistoffelees nodded, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, trying not to show how cold he was, despite being inside the warm cafe, sheltered from the outside weather. He really, really wanted to be by that fireplace with a hot mug of coffee in his hands.

“A little,” he said in his usual volume barely above a whisper. “I walked here.”

“Walked here? In that weather?”

Mistoffelees shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It’s fresh, makes me think clearly.”

Munkustrap unfolded his arms, placing gentle hands on Mistoffelees’ shoulders, the latter melting into the way he held them firmly, with a little squeeze of his palms. Mistoffelees allowed himself a moment to look up into that kind and handsome lined face, trying not to let his gaze linger long on his lips, not wanting to let his crush be too obvious.

“Come on, there’s an empty sofa by the fireplace–you can call first dibs on it, if you want,” Munkustrap said, tilting his head back in the direction of that oh-so-inviting fireplace.

Mistoffelees released a hand from a pocket and gave Munkustrap a pat on the arm and a nod, grateful for the chance to feel the warmth of the fire on his bare face.

“Allow me to accompany you there, Misto. You deserve the best spot on the sofa.”

Once he’d straightened himself up from the door, Munkustrap then slid his hands around to hold his shoulders as he walked alongside him, the warmth of his arms draped across Mistoffelees’ back. Mistoffelees loved how walking next to him felt like being next to a solid wall, one that would no doubt protect and keep him safe from any danger. Of course, with his magic, Mistoffelees didn’t need this, but still… walking next to Munkustrap like this, his hands holding his shoulders, felt so… good.

When they reached the fireplace, Munkustrap let go of his shoulders, now cupping a hand under one elbow to guide him to a sofa facing the fireplace itself, whose flames were reflected on the sleek black surface of the coffee table standing on a thick white rug. A newspaper, still folded and untouched, rested on the table next to a candlestick still missing a candle.

“I’m not too busy right now,” Munkustrap said as he gestured at a spot on the sofa. “Still pretty early, rush hour still hasn’t found this cafe yet, thankfully. Go on, take a seat.”

Mistoffelees immediately took a seat near the fireplace, letting himself delight in the fierce heat against his fur. Already, he was beginning to feel a lot warmer–Munkustrap had certainly found him a good spot to sit at the fireplace. He’d probably be able to take off his puffer jacket at this point, but it was still so comfy to wear that he much preferred to keep it on a little bit longer. And having Munkustrap to himself like this even for a moment was enough to make his voice come back again, even if in a very soft volume.

“That’s a real fireplace? With real wood?” Mistoffelees asked.

Munkustrap nodded.

“Pretty cozy, isn’t it? Love when cafes have actual fireplaces. Adds a kind of charm to it, doesn’t it?”

“Mm-hm.”

Munkustrap glanced toward the front door, chewing a little on his lower lip in thought before speaking again, and Mistoffelees’ heart leaped at what he had to say.

“You know what, I have a bit of time to sit down with a coffee of my own.”

Mistoffelees pointed to himself then to Munkustrap with what he hoped wasn’t too obvious a look of hope on his face. Munkustrap beamed, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners in that way they did that made Mistoffelees’ heart melt every time. Even more so when that was from a smile meant for him and no one else.

“Of course I want to have a coffee and chat with you. Here, I’ll get you something too–on the house.”

“Are… are you sure?”

“Positive. This is my shout, don’t worry about paying, okay?”

Mistoffelees nodded, though he really honestly wouldn’t have minded paying either. Still, Munkustrap shouting him a coffee was not something he was going to pass up on, knowing it was yet another way that the silver tabby Maine Coon showed his love and care for those dear to him.

“A mocha?” Mistoffelees requested.

Munkustrap tapped his temple like he was making a note of it. “Excellent. Normal milk or special?”

“If by special you have coconut milk? Otherwise, oat?”

“Coconut milk, huh? Quite fancy tastes you have, haven’t you?”

“I do?”

“I’ll see what I can brew up, okay? I’ll be back in a jiffy, but you make yourself comfortable here and we’ll chat when I have the coffee.”

Mistoffelees watched Munkustrap turn and walk back to the coffee machine, his tail held up high in a friendly and welcoming fashion, tip pointed in his direction, his self-assurance showing in each confident step, and the way he carried his shoulders. It helped he cut a handsome frame as well, and Mistoffelees couldn’t help noting again the strong muscles at his shoulders and his thighs. He only turned back around to lean against the sofa again when Munkustrap disappeared into the kitchen area, staring at the hypnotizing flames, lost in his thoughts.

He’s at least ten years older than me, Mistoffelees tried to remind himself. No way he’d date a twenty- five year old at thirty-five.

But his gay little heart just had to choose to be attracted to Munkustrap anyway; to be fair, he was also dating Tugger, who was a full five years older than Mistoffelees, having just celebrated his thirtieth journey around the sun the other week.

Maybe I just have a thing for older men in their thirties?

Or was it that he was such a contrast to his brother, Tugger? Where Tugger was raucous and at times immature, Munkustrap was eternally calm and level-headed. Where Tugger flirted playfully whether with Mistoffelees or other friends (especially Bombalurina), Munkustrap certainly wasn’t the flirt with everyone and everything in sight type, which, Mistoffelees admitted, was a nice breath of fresh air. Where Tugger swatted and poked and tickled playfully, his hands forever flitting and never staying longer than a second, Munkustrap held firm and steady, protective and strong. And both were just as attractive and appealing for Mistoffelees, Tugger speaking to his playful and competitive side, and Munkustrap to his neat and, dared he say, dignified side.

“Incoming!”

Mistoffelees started at Munkustrap’s voice, having been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard him returning, now walking in front of the sofa with two big, steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. After bending down to carefully set them down with the softest of clinks on the coffee table, he rubbed his hands together, straightening up as he addressed Mistoffelees.

“Coffees freshly brewed for our comfort–lucky for you, I found some coconut milk, so you can have your fancy coconut mocha.”

Mistoffelees relaxed back into the seat cushion behind him as Munkustrap sat down next to him, and he tried his hardest to ignore how the touch of Munkustrap’s thigh against his sent a flutter through his lower abdomen.

“So… feeling better and warmer now?”

“Huh?” Mistoffelees quickly recovered himself with a nod. “The fire helps.”

“I put some extra chocolate in the mocha as well, thought you could use that extra boost of sweetness coming in from that cold.”

“Oh? Thanks.”

Mistoffelees met his eyes with a small smile, and saw nothing but care reflected in them. However, Munkustrap sounded concerned as he asked,

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Nah, I mean yeah I am.” Mistoffelees said, momentarily flustered.

Blushing, he quickly leaned forward to grab his cup of coffee between both hands.

“So you, um, work here? You own this place?”

“I work here, but it’s only just opened in the last couple weeks.”

“Oh?” Mistoffelees carefully wrapped his still-gloved hands around the cup, sinking back once more into the plush cushion at his back. “No wonder I haven’t seen it before.”

“Yeah, we’re ironing out some rough edges, but I think this cafe is going to be much beloved soon enough–finding it pretty tough, though, convincing the council we need wheelchair access here as well, and not just those steps outside.”

“Like a ramp?”

“Something of that kind, yeah.”

Munkustrap now leaned forward to grab his own coffee, thigh pressing a little firmer against Mistoffelees’ as he did so. Again, Mistoffelees tried not to think about it, trying to force himself to focus instead on his first sip of coffee, the blissful sweet mocha immediately making him feel a tonne warmer. Munkustrap leaned back again on his seat, blowing a little on his coffee before resuming their chit-chat from where it had left off.

“We also want to create an atmosphere that isn’t too keyed-up, as Tugger would say. You know, too sensory-intense.”

Mistoffelees smiled, understanding exactly what Munkustrap meant.

“You mean like you’re doing now?” he whispered, hoping he was loud enough for Munkustrap to hear. “Calm piano music, low lights, crackling fire?”

“Precisely. How is it feeling for you? We’re doing good so far?”

“It’s perfect,” Mistoffelees assured, before taking another sip of his mocha. “I love the music, it’s so calming.”

“Glad to hear it–our first customer review, and in person too!”

Mistoffelees couldn’t help a little laugh on hearing Munkustrap’s obvious delight at this.

“Glad to be of help, Munkustrap.”

“Hey, always a pleasure having you,” Munkustrap said, voice full of nothing but warmth. “Your magic and performances never fail to awe me, you know.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Sure, I may not be as…obvious, shall we say, as a certain brother of mine, but your magic and dancing is something else.”

“I know. I mean, thank you.”

Munkustrap winked with a grin, and Mistoffelees was absolutely sure his heart just skipped a couple of heartbeats at that.

“Love that confidence in you, Misto.”

“You do?”

“Of course. You know, whenever I see you perform, it’s always like seeing it for the first time again.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. And you should be proud of yourself for coming this far.”

Mistoffelees, caught off guard by this compliment, was quiet for a few seconds before managing a little thank you. Another several moments passed, in which they sipped their coffees in companionable silence.

“So, um…” Mistoffelees cleared his throat, helping to clear in his mind what he wanted to ask as well. “You own the Secret Cafe? I saw the sign outside.”

Munkustrap hummed a note of confirmation in his throat, lowering a hand to rest it lightly on Mistoffelees’ knee, idly scratching at his trouser’s fabric with his claws. The tingles returned in his lower abdomen, and it was not so easy this time to ignore it.

“I opened it with Demeter, we had this in the works for a long time, to be honest. We’d come up with the idea about a year ago, and sent so much time just brainstorming and getting things together to make it a reality.”

Mistoffelees forced himself to ignore that paw on his knee, gently kneading him.

“So, uh, this was your dream?”

“One of my dreams.”

“One of?”

“I have many dreams, Misto, as I’m sure you do too. What dreams do you have for your future?”

“I…I’m–huh.”

Mistoffelees let himself mull over that question as he concentrated on drinking a bit more of his mocha, stalling his answer a little longer.

“I’m sure at least some of them involve Tugger in there,” Munkustrap remarked with another wink. “I dare hope that I might be in some as well?”

Mistoffelees came dangerously close to choking on a sip of his coffee, quickly putting it back down.

“What? Of course, I mean…yeah.”

Mistoffelees studied Munkustrap’s expression, but found no sign of reluctance or any other adverse reaction.

“Would…would you?”

Munkustrap lit up with genuine happiness, his smile reaching his eyes in that way they did that made them sparkle. He tried not to look too distracted by the hand on his knee, the warmth of Munkustrap’s palm soaking through with his genial affection and care.

“What are you afraid of?”

That wasn’t a question Mistoffelees had expected, and he looked away, down at the hand on his knee.

“I…me?”

“I think I know what you’re thinking,” Munkustrap let go of Mistoffelees’ knee, and that spot suddenly felt too cold, too hungry for the return of that warm touch. “I’m in my mid-thirties, while you’re in your mid-twenties, that does seem…unusual.”

“But Tugger’s already thirty, and he was twenty-eight when we started dating,” Mistoffelees pointed out, clinking his claws on his mug, a sub-conscious quirk of his growing anxiety. “I was, what, twenty-two? Going on twenty-three?”

“Some would find that a little… unusual, but you’re both adults, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“I admit, I did find it a bit unexpected at first, but Tugger has always loved you, right? I dare say he probably crushed on you his whole life, even.” Munkustrap grinned. “Honestly, in my view, there’s not as big a gap as you might imagine between our ages. I’m only thirty-five, Misto, not, say, sixty-five or something. Still, if you don’t feel comfortable… I understand.”

“What would Tugger think?”

“He’d find it highly amusing, I think, but you know how he is. He’d be more than happy to share.”

“And you’re–you’d be comfortable?”

“Only if you are. But if you would rather remain friends, that is also okay.”

“Who says you can’t be friends and lovers too?” Mistoffelees asked, he felt, quite reasonably. “Tugger and I are lovers, but also the best of friends.”

“True, true, you’re right.”

Do I want to do this? Mistoffeles asked himself in the natural quietude that blanketed their space once again. Do I want to start going out with Munk too? See what happens?

He gazed into that beautiful face, taking in the handsome line of his jaw, his eternally weary yet kind eyes, his soft mouth, and the very faint lines of his forehead and corners of his eyes lit softly by the firelight. He thought again of where Munkustrap had touched him on his knee, the way he had kneaded and scratched with his fingers there. And he imagined the lingering ghost of hands on his shoulders, firm and comforting. And he knew his answer, firm in his heart and his mind.

I do want this. I do.

“Take your time, Misto,” Munkustrap reassured, hand coming back on Misto’s knee again with a little pat. “If you would sooner think about it…”

“I do,” Mistoffelees blurted out, one of his own hands landing on top of Munkustrap’s without thinking.

“Want to think about it? That’s fair–”

“No, I mean…”

Mistoffelees forced himself to take a deep breath, to let himself feel his hand now atop Munkustrap’s, his fingers gently resting on top of the other’s.

“I mean, I do.”

Mistoffelees saw from the corner of his eye the hope growing in the straighter posture of Munkustrap, the way his hope fluttered in the corners of his mouth, his soft gaze.

“I feel ready, Munkustrap,” he assured, his whisper faltering, like his voice was about to shut off any time again. “I feel comfortable in exploring our relationship more.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely positive."

Mistoffelees met Munkustrap’s eyes, holding his gaze as long as he dared, heart thudding in his chest, suddenly hyperaware again of the press of the other cat’s thigh against his, the hand on his knee.

“I want to do it.”

I love you, Munkustrap, like how I love Tugger. I think we can make this work. Together.

[honeyrosepetals]

thank u for the tag @fadeintoyou1993 🫶🏻💗

favorite color: sea foam blue 🌊

last song: this is going to sound crazy but i haven't listened to music in like a week bc ive been binging different podcasts. dont cancel me but ive been really enjoying tana mongeau's pod bc she's funny and i am intrigued by the behind the scenes of rich girl life. it's entertaining at the very least ✨

last movie: ice age 4 🦣 🧊

currently reading: snakes and snake hunting by carl kauffeld, which is stories about his field work looking for snakes in the US in the 1930s (it's so interesting but it's out of print and was published in 1957 so my goal is to work on scanning it and uploading it to libgen so people can read it) 🐍

currently watching: rewatching parks and rec for the third time 🛝

currently craving: a leopard print bikini and the beach with someone blonde and tall (a girl can dream!!) 🏖️

coffee or tea: i like tea better but i drink iced coffee more regularly bc it has more caffeine. my favorite tea is a blend called marie antoinette from carytown teas and it's a black tea with rose petals and dried apples 🌹

tagging some mutuals i can remember off the top of my head haha (no pressure 💗) @heartshapedhackjob @sohelpmegod @greenapple4loko @foiebras @kestreleve @souplover-69

[thornestar]

I inexplicably decided I needed to write songs and I’ve been saving up for a shed to convert to a studio.

I have paper thin walls

Loud cats

Loudmouth dog

Noisy family

No privacy

&

Pathological performance anxiety

I’m starting to accept that I will never get my studio. Even if I did I can’t leave the house without help. It would be too expensive to make it accessible so I’m working with what I got.

I bought some noise canceling foam pads and some rubber cement. Made a little audio reflector yoni to put my microphone inside.

Completely stepped up my vocal recording!! I still felt I could do better. This reflector is great for portability but finding the right proximity is hard.

Meet mega reflector! It’s big enough to put over my head. It rests on my shoulders and does a full 360 sound blocking.

I works best when I use it like a tube. I clip my microphone inside, put my face in the opening and sing. Gives me much more consistency in my volume control.