#accent modification

[streetsimpletherapyinc]

Is Professional Accent Modification Programs Worth It?

Many kids struggle to maintain their accents or cannot speak a few words. Parents generally ignore wondering what their children will learn when they grow up. But, they might be wrong as the kid might need the classes of accent modification from the experts. Here we have mentioned the perks of taking professional classes for accent modification. For any further information visit: https://www.blogbangboom.com/blog/is-professional-accent-modification-programs-worth-it

[leafnincosplay]

Modifying metal zippers

Want to add metal zippers to your cosplay but don't know where to start? Let's talk about how to modify the tape and the pull to fit any zipper length you need! Great for JoJo and anything designed by Nomura. #cosplay #zipper #tutorial

Metal zippers just look cool and come in some very striking metallic colors, usually gold and silver, but I’ve also seen metallic rainbow as well. Bruno Bucciarati was the first time I had encountered the metal zipper. His jacket featured several metallic gold zipper accents on the sleeves, collar, and shoulders, and metal zippers make the cosplay truly shine. Metal zippers inset in the jacket…

[thistaleisabloodyone]

Okay, so I need to work on the birthday gifs again aaaaaand with all of this extra space, I can also start breaking down more and more concerts and MVs and stuff 😄 Honestly excited, I don't have to keep deleting all of the WIPs once they're completed anymore

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kildare enduro

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, nipple play, p in v sex, unprotected sex, loner reader, brief talk about wards death, takes place during s4e1 (no sofia.), drinking, kind of drunk sex but they actually specifically say they dont want to be that drunk

“not just john b- look at that other late entry…” the announcer says, looking to his co-host also positioned in front of a microphone.

“do you recognize who is under that helmet?” he asks.

“i do not… i guess we have a mystery contender as well.”

rafe looks over the crowd, frowning inside of his helmet when he realizes there's no one here to cheer him on, eyes glaring with jealousy at the crowd of pogues. it's one of his biggest complaints about the event, the fact that they're allowed to compete too with their shit bikes and even worse racing abilities.

“and that bike… is that a modified ktm 450 rally? that's a beautiful machine. not too different from rafe camerons. looks like they'll be the ones to watch today.”

the announcers statement has rafe looking over, seeing the blacked out bike with metallic purple and blue accents, and the equally blacked out face mask, not allowing him to see who it is underneath.

“thats got to be the most expensive bike racing here today. dominated last years dakar rally, and pretty much every endurance race it's entered into.”

“very excited to see what the modifications are, looks like enhanced tires for driving through the sand…” 

rafe drones out the voices, focusing on the race to come, especially knowing he's got stiff competition this year.

he takes a deep breath, watching the green flag raise high in the sky before dropping quickly, and he's off like a bolt of lightning, sand spewing up behind him.

he gets instantly to the front, but he can hear someone on his tail. a quick glance to his right reveals the metallic bike, skidding over the top of the sand like it doesn't weigh a pound.

“rafe cameron has the early lead, but our late entry is hot on his tail! this could cause trouble for our previous winner.”

rafe takes the turn and is overtaken, but not by more than a wheel.

“looks like rafe cameron is just beat out as they head into the trees!” the commentator shouts, the crowd clamoring to figure out who knows the rider currently in the lead and pulling away.

rafe doesn't let the other bike get farther than a length ahead as he heads into the whoops, the bike soaring into the air before touching down.

rafe smirks under the mask when the driver ahead briefly loses control, wheel wobbling as it hits an uneven patch of dirt, and rafe speeds ahead, taking advantage of every small mistake.

he's not ahead for long, as his bike stutters in speed heading through the dip in the road, water causing his wheels to spin, while the racer in all black and deep purple speeds past, leaving rafe to groan in frustration, especially when he turns and realizes other bikers aren't far behind.

“and here they come! around the bouy and-oh! cameron just made contact with our leader, it looks like he's getting sick of being behind, and overtakes around the turn with our mystery driver right on his heels!”

rafe smirks as he retakes the lead, not willing to let some random take over his win. rafe pops his front wheel up, revving the engine and coaxing more speed out of the bike, knowing sand is flying in the faces of the riders behind him.

“this race is turning out to be a real nail biter, it could be anyone's game as they head back into the trees.”

“wait, wait- is that? JJ MAYBANK IS GOING TO JUMP THE INLET!”

the crowd of people goes wild as jj leapfrogs to the front of the pack, touching down just in front of the new leader, with rafe hot on his back tire as well.

“and our mystery rider is closing in fast, it looks like jj isn't going to maintain his lead. there could be some serious drama at the end of our race here.”

rafe growls as the bikes all come side by side, squeezing jj in the middle. rafe watches as the other riders leg comes out and kicks at the side of jjs bike, pushing into him, and rafe barely manages to brake and get out of the way, falling behind jj.

“fuck!” rafe shouts. there's no way he's losing to a random rider and maybank. he revs on the throttle, touching the front wheel against jjs back and shoving his bike to the side, not looking back as he careens into the air, managing to keep himself right way up and barely make it to the finish line ahead of topper.

“our mystery rider takes the win! i am dying to know who is under that helmet!” the commentators calls out as the checkered flag is waved.

“ladies and gentlemen, it looks like your enduro champion is…” the entire crowd watches with baited breath as the blacked out helmet comes off, and long flowing hair comes tumbling down.

there's an audible gasp, and rafe has to blink to make sure there isn't sand in his eyes and what he's seeing is real.

“is that… y/f/n y/l/n? i think it is! who even knew she raced? what an amazing, showstopping performance from the female rider!”

rafe tugs his helmet off, shoving down the kickstand on his bike. “y/n?” rafe shouts out.

he doesn't know you very well, not very well at all, but your reputation precedes you. graduated a few years before him, you've always been seen as one of the top kooks, your family being established in the area for generations.

“oh, hey.” you smile at him, fingers running through your hair as the crowd surges in now that the bikes have halted. “good race.” you look him up and down. “i mean, i guess not good enough though.”

“this is our first female winner in kildare enduro history! ladies and gentleman, give it up again for y/n.”

“let's go!” you scream out as someone lifts you into the air, raising your helmet far over your head.

rafe knows second means nothing as he grunts angrily. he kicks himself for messing up in the woods, if he would have come out before you there's no way he wouldn't be the one being celebrated at the moment.

--

“on me.” you state to rafe as you slide a beer over the counter to him, coming to take a seat next to him, sipping on your own.

“shouldn't you be celebrating or some shit?” rafe questions, his voice low and rough as he watches a drop of beer sip down your chin.

“i am celebrating.” you state. “what does it look like?”

“where's all your friends and shit?” rafe looks around, expecting to see the same gaggle of girls you used to hang around with in high school.

“what friends?” you scoff under your breath, before frowning and looking at rafe. “i don't see anyone with you either. not even topper. he's not your little servant anymore?”

“me and top are fine.” rafe says. in truth, he's pushed everyone away since wards death, and eventually topper stopped trying, stopped checking in.

“mhm.” you hum, finishing off your beer and flagging down the bartender for another.

“since when did you race anyways?” 

“always have.” you shrug, looking over at rafe, realizing for the first time now that you're up close to him how dazzling his eyes are. “just kept it to myself. not exactly a lady like hobby.”

“a hobby?” rafe scoffs. “you call the way you raced a hobby?”

“i was shit today.” you shake your head. “made mistakes.”

“it was only with your slight mistakes that i was even close.”

“watch yourself, cameron.” you take a sip of your beer. “it sounds like you're starting to be nice to me.”

“sounds like you need someone to be nice to you.” rafe is shocked by the fact that no one seems to care that the enduro race winner is in the bar, like the shock of finding out who won quickly wore off, leaving you alone once again.

“i like being alone.” you state, swallowing harshly to hide your true emotions. “all friends turn out to be fake in the end.”

“family too.” rafe frowns, before finishing the rest of his beer.

“want another?” you ask, tilting your head to the side, your hair flowing over your shoulder, just urging rafe to reach out and touch.

“no.” he shakes his head. “don't wanna be too drunk.”

“too drunk for what?” you hum.

“for when i try to take you home.”

--

“fuck.” you moan, head pressing back into the pillows as rafe continues sucking on your nipple, his hand between your thighs.

“god, right there!” you squeal out as he rubs against your clit, your wetness only growing by the second.

you reach down and push at the waistband of his underwear, trying to tempt him to take them off, but rafe just switches to the other side of your chest, sucking a deep purple hickey on the side of your breasts before taking your nipple back in his mouth.

rafes finger drops to prod at your entrance, feeling how warm you are as his digit slowly sinks in, your moans only growing as you pussy sucks in his finger.

“fuck,” you whine. “need that to be your cock, come on.”

rafe keeps his movement slow as he thrusts his finger in and out, feeling the gummy texture of your walls and the way your cunt grips him, knowing he's going to love having his cock inside you.

rafe adds in a second finger, feeling you stretch and adjust as he moves back to your other nipple, his tongue dragging across your chest, not wanting to lose the taste of your skin for even a second.

the race is in the back of his mind, the last thing he wants to think about. he'd lose a million times more if it gets you in his bed, moaning and pulsing around his fingers.

“rafe-” you tug at his short hair, his head lifting up to look at you, lips pink and glossy. “fuck me.”

rafe smiles, glad that you're just as needy as he is. he regrets not pursuing you earlier, if only he knew what he was missing just down the street.

rafe shoves his underwear down and flings them off the bed. your eyes widen as you take in his length, but you can't stay looking for long as rafes lips smash into yours.

your arms wrap around his neck, tugging him in flush to your body as his cock presses against your entrance, already hard just from kissing and fingering you.

rafes lips mold perfectly to you as he presses in, and this time he doesn't bother going slow, immediately setting a fast pace as his hips move back and forth.

your kiss turns into gasps and moaning into each other's mouth, your hands coming to rafes cheeks, keeping his face close, keeping his blissed out eyes locked with yours.

“your-” rafe grunts as he fucks you. “your pussy is perfect.”

you smile and surge up to press your lips against rafes. “a winners pussy.” you can't help but continue to rub the race in, at least a little bit.

“consider this my congratulations.” rafe smirks as one hand drops to rub at your pussy, thumb stroking your clit in even movements, contrasting the rapid, desperate thrusts.

your eyes slide closed as much as you wish you could keep them open, watching rafe above you, but the pleasure is all too much as he pounds into you.

you pull your knees up, spreading your legs even wider, giving even more space for rafe to fuck into you, his thrusts turning feral as his moans turn to grunts and growls.

“want…” you gasp out. “want your cum in me.”

“you're not gonna get it that easy.” rafe smirks, suddenly flipping so you're on top, his back bouncing against the mattress as you flop forward against him, hips high in the air.

you don't let up for even a second, immediately taking over the movements as you raise and lower your cunt, bouncing on his cock.

rafe doesn't stop either, an arm circling around your waist as he thrusts up off the bed to meet you.

“gonna make me put in work even though i won?” you hum out, breasts pushing against rafes bare torso, his hard muscles stimulating your already sensitive nipples.

“damn right.” rafe smirks. “can't let you get off too easily for that maybank move.”

you tsks. “never liked that fucking pogue anyways.”

“i think i might have to marry you.” rafe chuckles, heart fluttering when he sees you smile, swearing you're glowing as he pumps his hips up into you.

“don't… stop.” you move one hand to over rafes, pushing it tight against your pussy, keeping his thumb in place as it thrumbs against you.

“im close too.” rafe states, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as he puts all his effort into thrusting up into you, into spearing his cock as deep into your pussy as he can.

you let out a moan, and with one more swipe of rafes thumb, you're gone, entire body shaking before going slack, leaving rafe to quickly flip you over, hands coming to your hips as he pushes inside of you, cumming in spurts, filling you up with his warmth.

rafe collapses next to you the moment he finishes, arms completely giving out from the exhaustion of your activities and the earlier race.

you both breathe deeply, trying to regain some sort of mental clarity as your high wears off.

“shit.” you whine out, breaking the silence. “we gotta do that more often.”

“and…” rafe turns over, propping his head up on his elbow. “maybe get dinner together too?”

“rafe cameron, are you asking me out on a date?” you laugh.

“i just came inside of you, i don't think it should be that surprising.” rafe rolls his eyes. “besides, seems like you could use some company.”

you turn to face rafe as well, his blue eyes looking into yours. “i don't usually date losers, but i guess second place isn't too bad.”

rafe shakes his head before pressing your lips back together.

[astrcmoni]

✮⋆˙⭒NIGHTS LIKE THIS✮⋆˙⭒

CHAPTER I: ALL HAIL NIGHTRIDER

pairing: street racer!reader x billie eilish

MASTERLIST

warnings- cussing, drug use (weed), scorches (something fell on you and lightly and briefly burned you, that’s really it.)

wc: 3.7k…damn

authors note: this is my first actual fic on here and i’m nervous as hell to publish it. let me know what y’all think. also anyone can read this (reader is fem tho i forgot to put that) like reader is not heavily described only physical descriptions would be through family descriptions.

“Dude, where the hell am I supposed to go?” Billie’s voice was almost swallowed by the bustling crowd as she called out to her friend on the phone.

“I said—” Her friend’s voice was distorted, breaking up as the connection faltered. Between the weak signal, the endless chatter of people crowding around her, and the constant bumping of bodies as she waded through the sea of strangers, Billie was overstimulated and ready to turn around and go home.

She raised her phone high in the air, stretching her arm up in a desperate attempt to catch a stronger signal. She stood like that for a good minute, nudging into people who glared or muttered curses under their breath. Her frustration melted into relief when she felt a hand grasp her forearm, spinning her around.

“God, there you are man.” she exhaled in relief when she realized it was her friend. “I’ve been literally shouting at my phone like i’m insane. People keep fucking staring at me,” she added, casting side-eyes at the annoyed faces around her as she moved closer to her best friend.

“Well, I’ve got you now, so let’s just go,” her friend laughed, wrapping an arm around Billie’s shoulders and steering her through the throng of people to where the rest of the group was gathered.

They came to a halt in front of a crooked, black wire fence embedded into the patchy grass and dirt. The track lay just beyond, close enough that she could see the dust and rubble scattered on the pavement.

Billie’s breath hitched as she stared out at the cars lined up on the track. She leaned against the fence, eyes wide and mouth agape, taking in every gleaming detail—some vehicles boasted flashy modifications, while others were classic models still in their original forms. Her excitement and awe were almost childlike, as if she were experiencing the best Christmas of her life.

“How much are you betting?” one of her friends asked, snapping her out of her trance.

“Huh?” Billie replied, still entranced by the sight before her, eyes glistening under the bright floodlights.

“I said, who are you betting on and how much? I might match it,” the friend whispered as if it were a closely guarded secret.

“Uh—shit, man, I don’t know. Lemme see.”

Her gaze swept over the cars lined up from back to front, her eyes scanning each driver hanging around their vehicles—likely waiting for the race to start. And then, she spotted it. You.

Or rather, your car.

A smooth, lustrous, sable-black custom GT500 sat front and center. The tires glowed faintly in a soft lilac hue, casting a mesmerizing light over the soot-covered terrain. A raven, intricately engraved on the back right side of the car, shimmered with deep violet accents, giving the vehicle an almost ethereal quality.

You sat at the very front of the starting line, so close to the crowd that if you focused, you could catch snippets of their conversations. Your windows, tinted so dark no one could see inside, were rolled down halfway, allowing the warm glow of lights from the track and your car’s interior to cast delicate shadows across your face. Soft music drifted from the vehicle, mingling with the cacophony of the streets.

‘To take my love away, when I come back around, will I know what to say?’

Billie’s eyes widened and her heart jumped a little when she realized what song was playing softly from your car. She knew that song. The melody, the lyrics—it was Chihiro.

Her song.

“Oh my God, Zoe, she’s playing my song!” she blurted out excitedly.

“Who? Billie, who?”

“Her, right there in the black car.”

“The one with the bird?”

“Yes, the one with the fucking bird.”

“Can you tell who it is?”

“Uh…no.” Billie squinted, trying to make out your face, but all she could see was your hair cascading down your back in a cascade of purple and grey highlights. You seemed engrossed in something in your lap, brows furrowed in concentration.

Your car chimed as the door opened and rocked slightly as someone climbed into the passenger seat. The radio’s bass thrummed louder into the night as the beat dropped along with the chorus.

“Oh my God, you’re still rolling up? This is why I get pre-rolls,” the passenger teased, irritation lacing their tone as they glanced at you. The irritation in her voice made you smirk, but you kept your eyes on the blunt you were carefully twisting between your fingers.

You lifted your head, resting your elbow on the armrest. “But they don’t look as pretty as this one, now do they?” you teased back, handing over the blunt you’d been working on. The passenger rolled her eyes but took it from you, holding it delicately in the air inspecting it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she grumbled. Her long acrylic nails clicked against the blunt as she placed it in her mouth with practiced ease and sparked it up with a flick of her lighter. The cherry of the blunt glowed a vibrant ember in the dim light as she inhaled.

Her red and black racing suit, with the name Blaze stitched onto the left sleeve, fit snugly against her frame. Silky, pressed black hair, highlighted with streaks of red and pink, fell to her upper back in waves and curls, framing her sun-kissed face. Her slender brown eyes gleamed with a look of concern as she exhaled, the scent of weed wafting through the car.

A ping sounded from your phone, drawing you back in. You picked it up, eyes narrowing at the notification:

11 new messages from Mom

“You good?” she asked, leaning over to glance at your screen.

“No. It’s my mom again. She’s been blowing up my phone ever since I left this morning.” You sighed and took the blunt from her hand, not caring about the remnants of her sticky lip gloss left on the wrap. You knew your lips would leave the same trace. She took your phone, unlocking it without hesitation. You knew she’d handle it while you leaned back, taking a long drag, your gaze drifted to the night sky, watching how the stars shimmered against the inky backdrop.

“I keep thinking that this is a bad dream, and that if I try hard enough, I just might wake up,” you murmured.

“Yeah, well, this sad-ass music isn’t helping,” she joked. As if on cue, the next track started—an upbeat tempo that vibrated through the car’s interior. your heart beat matched as the bass trembled throughout your body. ej bounced in her seat, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uht-uh,” you protested, disconnecting your phone from the Bluetooth. “Don’t go changing my shit. My car, my music. You know the rules. Besides, it’s not sad.”

“Yes, it is. That’s like Billie Eilish’s whole schtick, isn’t it?” she scoffed. “Oh, by the way, she’s here.”

“Who?” You turned to look at her, confused.

“Billie. Eilish. The singer. She’s right over there,” she said, pointing.

You leaned over her, eyes darting around the crowd. “Where? I don’t see her.” All you saw were the flag bearers collecting extra bets on the side, cash being shuffled and tossed in baskets.

“Wait, what? Where?”

“Over there—” She pointed, and you leaned over her, eyes darting around.

“Oh my god, girl, she’s *right over there*!” your friend shouted, exasperated.

Hearing this, Billie looked over. Blue eyes met yours. EJ’s shout of frustration caught Billie’s attention, and her gaze drifted back to your car. She lifted her hand in a tentative wave, offering a soft smile.

Your eyes widened in panic. Instead of waving back, both you and EJ ducked, bumping into your friend in the process, shouting curses at each other. The forgotten blunt fell into your lap, searing through your suit and burning you in the process.

“Ah—damn it,” you muttered, picking it up and handing it to her. Her soft hands brushed against yours as she took it, putting it out and storing the remnants in a container before stuffing it in the glove compartment.

“You looked so rude. You should’ve waved back.” EJ chided, side-eyeing you.

“Shut up,” you muttered, reconnecting your phone to the car. The opening notes of “Goosebumps” by Travis Scott filled the space, the beat thrumming through your body.

“Listen, I get that you’re going through a lot right now, but I need you to lock the fuck in. You need that money, and I’d hate to see you lose.”

“I know. I’ve got it. Don’t worry.”

“Good, ‘cause it’d be a shame for me to wipe the floor with your ass. You’ll be begging for mercy when we’re done.” Her sudden switch to competitiveness made you laugh.

The sight of the flag girl approaching your car caught your attention. You watched as your friend climbed out and into her own car. The flag bearer checked to make sure you were set before returning to her position at the starting line.

“Ready, Rider?”

Even though you were wearing your riding gear, the hairs on your body stood up as the crisp breeze snuck through the open window and washed over you. Your arm dangled out of the car, fingers loosely tapping against the exterior, while your other hand gripped the steering wheel firmly. The hum of your car vibrated through your entire being, a calming rhythm that matched the beat of your heart. Around you, the other drivers started revving up their engines, plumes of smoke and gas curling up into the air, mixing with the noise of the restless crowd.

"As ready as I can be." you called out, turning your gaze to your best friend and rival. Her car was parked right beside yours—an M4 F82 that was as sleek and black as the night sky. Its red headlights burned like fiery eyes glaring through the darkness like a beast ready to pounce, and the rims, designed into the shape of hearts, shone brightly against the pavement.

You remembered how she’d insisted on having them when you guys went to pick out your first racing cars. “Because I’m ‘just a girl’ ” she’d declared, sticking up her middle finger at the guys who laughed at her. She’d never cared what anyone thought, not when she’d made them eat their words in nearly every race, leaving them in the dust while looking good doing it.

The hum of motors built into a crescendo as everyone continued to rev their engines, the anticipation and excitement electrifying the brisk night air.

“Is everyone ready?” The flag bearer stepped in front of the starting line, checkered flags poised high in the air. Shouts of agreement and cheers erupted from the crowd, adding to the energy of the moment.

You hovered your foot over the gas pedal, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Ready.”

You glanced at the starting line, taking a deep breath as your fingers tightened around the wheel. Eyes closed, you drew in a deep breath, focusing. All the energy, anger, and frustration from earlier started bubbling up to the surface.

“Set.”

With your eyes shut, the words from this morning's argument with your parents flashed through your mind:

“You’ll never be like him.”

“Racing isn’t something you can do forever.”

“You need to fix your shit. This hobby will get you nowhere.”

“You’ve become such a disappointment. What happened to you? Where did I go wrong?”

All that pain, all that bitterness—you channeled it, letting it fuel you.

“Go!”

The words barely left her mouth before your eyes flew open. For a brief moment, the world went still and everything seemed to fall away. It was just you, your car, and the road. Your foot pressed down on the gas pedal, and you took off, the lilac lights on your car morphing into an intense, inky purple as your tires gripped the pavement.

You felt weightless, like a feather caught in the wind, as you accelerated, the track lights casting an ethereal glow over the cars. The world blurred around you, every twist and turn coming effortlessly, your hands moving as if on instinct.

A constant ringing broke through your focus. Your phone vibrated repeatedly, the lit screen showing multiple notifications. You took a quick glance, irritation flaring up as you scrolled through them.

- 5 new missed calls from Mom

- 20 new texts from Fam GC

- 2 new voicemails from Mama J

- 3 new texts from Dad

Your fingers hovered over the voicemail from Mama J, your heart tightening as you reluctantly hit play.

“Hey sweetheart. Now I don’t know what’s happening between you and your parents, but they’re blowing up my phone, asking about you…” You rolled your eyes in annoyance. Typical of them to involve someone else when you refused to entertain their bullshit. “I’m not trying to get in between this, but what I will say is that you need to call them people. Or at least call your mother and stop running away fr—”

You turned off your phone and tossed it back into the passenger seat, jaw clenched in frustration. You loved your Mama J, but you weren’t in the mood to hear any more of that nonsense. Not now, not during this. You got enough of it from your parents, you don’t need to hear it from your godmother either.

Your grip on the wheel tightened as your chest rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths. The fight with your parents played on a loop in your head, every word an echo that grew louder and more taunting.

‘Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t understand why you continue to choose racing when you know how I feel about it—how we feel about it.’

‘Ma, I get where you’re coming from,but—‘

‘I’m telling you right now, you will get nothing from this. You already have a good job—why must you go and ruin it by doing this foolish nonsense?’

“Fuck this. Like, actually fuck them.” You muttered the words aloud, forgetting for a moment that the line was still open, and your best friend, EJ, was listening on the other end.

“Yo, are you good? Like actually?” Her voice was laced with concern, crackling through the car’s speakers and snapping you back to reality.

“Y-yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Because you’re falling so behind that Nick is beating you. Mind you he literally can’t race for shit. Girl, c’mon!”

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. Sure enough, you were lagging behind. The other drivers had taken advantage of your distraction, speeding past and leaving you in the dust.

“And stop worrying about what my mama said. She’s just playing messenger. We’ll handle it when we get home, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, your foot pressing down harder on the gas pedal.

“It will be okay, just hurry your ass up.”

The car lurched forward as you pushed it to its limits, the rush of adrenaline pumping through your blood like fire. Everything else melted away—the arguing voices in your head, the messiness of the family drama—all of it evaporated, leaving just you and the open road. You swerved expertly between cars, dodging obstacles and maneuvering through sharp turns, the wind roaring in your ears.

This—right here, right now—this was freedom. This was why you kept coming back, no matter how bad things got. The thrill, the speed, the way your heart seemed to beat in time with the roar of your engine. It made all the god forsaken bullshit in your life disappear, if only for a little while.

The white of the finish line came into view, a grin breaking across your face as you accelerated one last time, crossing it just seconds before anyone else.

You’d placed first.

You pressed on the brakes, heart pounding wildly as you let out a shaky breath, leaning back in your seat.

“Congrats! See what happens when you block out the bullshit and focus?” EJ’s voice rang out as she parked beside you, hopping out and pulling you into a hug.

The two of you leaned against the hood of your car, laughing and catching your breath, your excitement palpable. You could hear someone shouting your name, prompting you to look around until your eyes landed on the culprit.

“What the fuck, dude,” she whispered to her best friend as she stared in awe.

“What?” Zoe asked, glancing back and forth between you and Billie. “Billie, you’ve been staring at her all night. Let’s just go say hey.” she wrangled with the gate until she got it open.

“I did though. I waved, and she hid from me,” Billie grumbled, but Zoe ignored her, practically dragging her over to where you were standing.

You turned and your eyes locked with Billie’s for the second time that night. This time, she took you in fully, studying every detail—the way your eyes gleamed under the lights, how your glossed lips shone, and the soft cascade of purple and grey streaks of hair framing your face.

“Oh my god, Zoe, is that you?” You greeted Zoe first, pulling her into a tight hug as the two of you exchanged a few words. Then, you turned your gaze back to Billie, offering a small smile.

“Who’s your friend here?” you asked, nodding towards Billie.

“Sorry, this is my best friend, Billie.”

“Well, hi Billie,” you said, your tone gentle and welcoming. The way her name rolled off your lips made Billie’s stomach do a little flip. You kept your gaze steady, not once breaking eye contact. “How’d you enjoy the race?”

“I really liked it.” Billie smiled softly, but before she could say more, Zoe chimed in.

“This is her first race. I practically had to drag her here.”

“Really?” You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Well, I’m glad you came. Who’d you bet on?”

“I didn’t get a chance. The race started too soon. But if I could’ve, it would’ve been you. Your car looked sweet as hell.” She rocked on her heels, trying to keep her cool, but you could tell she was nervous. It was cute.

“Thanks, I appreciate the support.”

She shrugged casually, but her eyes lingered on your face. “It’s whatever.”

“Is there something on my face?” You laughed, wiping at your cheeks just in case.

“No, no,” she stammered, shaking her head. “It’s just… you’re so gorgeous.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and you couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across your face, even though you tried to play it off. “Oh my god, girl, stop playing.”

“I’m serious,” she insisted, stepping closer.

“Could say the same about you, pretty.”

“Really?” Billie’s eyebrow quirked. “Because it didn’t seem like it when you hid from me earlier.”

“Shit, you saw that?” You asked, rubbing the back of your neck. “I normally would’ve waved back, but I got—I don’t know—scared, I guess. Well, not scared—” You trailed off, looking up at the night sky, searching for the right word as her laughter rang out. Hearing her laugh threw you off, causing a small grin to creep up on your face. “Okay, whatever the fuck the word is,” you muttered, giving up with a light chuckle of your own. “But... I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it. it was kinda cute.” Billie’s eyes did another slow sweep over your frame, lingering on every detail like she was trying to commit it to memory.

“Stop looking at me like that, bro.”

“Like what?”

“Like that.” You shook your head, glancing away as if that’d hide the heat creeping up your cheeks and the way your smile stretched wider every second. You turned your gaze back, realizing something. “Where’s Zoe?” She was supposed to be around somewhere, helping you avoid embarrassing yourself too much with your obvious—and very clumsy—flirting. But she was nowhere in sight.

Your eyes swept over the parking lot until you finally spotted her lounging on the hood of EJ’s car, chatting it up with your best friend.

“Hey, uh—do you maybe wanna take my car for a ride?” you blurted out, shifting your weight between your feet.

Billie’s eyes widened, surprise flashing across her face. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, why not? It’ll just be a few minutes.”

She wandered over, running her fingers along the sleek lines of your car, eyes alight with curiosity. “Damn, this is really something,” she murmured almost to herself, voice low. A small whistle escaped her as she took in the intricate details and custom work. You were just about to toss her the keys when—

*Woop Woop*

The sound of sirens pierced through the air. Blue and red lights started flooding the lot, casting sharp, flickering shadows everywhere.

“Fuck. Okay, y’all need to get out of here. Now.” Your voice was rushed as you bolted back to the driver’s side.

“EJ, I’ll meet you at your house,” you shouted, throwing yourself into your seat and jamming the key into the ignition. The roar of your engine masked the rising panic around you. “Zoe’s got my number,” you called out to Billie over the commotion. “She’ll give it to you, and we can talk about that ride later!” That was the last thing you managed to say before you and everyone else peeled out of the lot, tires screeching against the pavement as a sea of cop cars closed in fast.

Billie stood there, frozen, eyes locked on your car as you sped away. The flashing red and blue lights reflected off her pale face, her expression caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. Zoe had to physically drag her back, yanking her arm until she stumbled out of her daze.

“C’mon, we have to go now!”

You glanced into your rearview mirror, catching one last glimpse of Billie as she stood rooted to the spot, staring after you. Zoe tugged her along, but she kept looking back, even as the sirens blared louder and the chaos around them spiraled.

There was no way EJ wouldn’t hear every single detail about tonight. If she thought you weren’t about to gush for the next few hours, she was just plain wrong.

authors note: part 2? if so comment something to let me know if you want to be on the taglist! love and light, be safe <3 -vay

[aparticularbandit]

okay i might actually make this one my profile pic she's cute and i love her

NO SERIOUSLY BABY GIRL IS GORGEOUS.

[cynicalrosebud]

Hello!! I saw your requests are open! So can I ask shy! civilian! reader x Soap (my fav), Ghost, Gaz and Price that reader is gun! nerd? Like reader knows weapons, very well since they play shooting games (only in single player), do research (especially in her novel because she wants to write gun fights.)

Tactical Observer

The rest of dear nonny's request was a separate ask so I'll add it below:

"Oh! I forgot to say by shy! civilian! gun nerd reader that they like to analyse and touch weapons, even if it's fake. But they prefer not shoot, they prefer to watch it."

Oh nonny, you are fueling my lifeblood. Wrote this shit in a coffee and frybread daze over the span of an hour.

Summary: Y/n, a quiet and reclusive civilian with an uncanny knowledge of firearms, is brought on as a consultant for Task Force 141. Her expertise, gained through research for her novel and a deep obsession with the mechanics of weapons, quickly captivates the team. Though she prefers to study and observe rather than engage in combat, her presence draws the attention of Soap, Ghost, Gaz, and Price. Beneath the surface of their professional interactions, a deeper, more complex connection begins to form—one that transcends the battlefield. Unbeknownst to Y/n, the team isn't just fascinated by her skills—they’re enthralled by her. As the tension grows between them, Y/n finds herself pulled into an intricate, mysterious bond that leaves her both protected and adored by all four men.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Y/n had been minding her own business, walking through the quieter outskirts of the city, notebook in hand, jotting down ideas for her latest chapter. Her novel—an action thriller that involved military operations—required a lot of research, particularly about guns. Y/n spent hours reading up on weapon mechanics, loadouts, and modifications. It fascinated her, though she had never been one to actually shoot. She just liked knowing how it all worked.

But her peaceful research day turned into chaos when gunfire erupted nearby, throwing her into a situation she never expected. Ducking into an alley, her heart raced. She knew enough about firearms to recognize the sharp crack of an M4, followed by the deeper, heavier shots of AKs. This wasn’t just a random street brawl; it was organized and lethal.

Before she could react further, a strong hand grabbed her and pulled her behind cover. She yelped but quickly realized her rescuer was a soldier—decked out in gear, with a Scottish accent thick enough to cut through the noise.

“Gaz! Price! We’ve got a civilian!” Soap shouted into his comms as he shielded Y/n from the spray of bullets.

Y/n stared at him, wide-eyed and shaken, clutching her notebook to her chest. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. She had written about these kinds of scenes, but experiencing it firsthand was a different story entirely.

Another soldier appeared, this one towering over her, his face obscured by a skull mask. Ghost. She recognized him from stories she’d read online, from the games she’d played, but seeing him in person was a different kind of intimidating.

“Who the hell are you?” Ghost’s voice was rough, filled with irritation but also concern. “And what the bloody hell are you doin’ here?”

“I-I was just… I’m just a writer,” Y/n stammered, clutching her notebook tighter. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stay low and don’t get in the way,” Ghost growled, helping her crouch down further. “We’ll get you out of here.”

Hours later, after a whirlwind of gunfire and chaos, Y/n found herself holed up in a safe house with the team of soldiers who had inadvertently rescued her. She was still processing everything that had happened, but her mind kept drifting to the weapons they carried. They were all so finely tuned, customized in ways that made her writer's brain buzz with excitement.

Soap, sitting nearby, noticed her staring at his rifle. He had seen that look before—usually in people who loved guns. He leaned back casually and grinned. “Yer eyes haven’t left that M4 since we got in here. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours, eh?”

Y/n blushed, shifting awkwardly. “Oh, um… It’s just… It’s a really nice setup. You’ve got a Geissele MK8 rail and a Trijicon MRO optic, right? Solid choice.”

Soap blinked, a little taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to know her stuff. “You know your weapons, lass.”

She ducked her head shyly. “I’ve done a lot of research. For my book. I’m a writer,” she explained. “I do all this research on military operations and firearms because I want my novel to be as accurate as possible… but I don’t actually shoot. I just like knowing how it all works.”

Gaz, who had been cleaning his own weapon nearby, raised an eyebrow. “So, you know all this stuff, but you’ve never fired a gun?”

Y/n shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “I prefer the research. Watching someone else handle a weapon is more interesting to me than pulling the trigger.”

Price, who had been listening from his spot by the window, chuckled. “That’s a first. Most people who know this much can’t wait to get their hands on the trigger.”

Y/n smiled nervously. “I just… like the mechanics, how everything fits together. It’s fascinating.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the tension easing. Soap watched her with a thoughtful grin, noting how her eyes sparkled when she spoke about weapons. He leaned in a little closer. “Yer somethin’ special, Y/n. No shame in that.”

Her cheeks flushed at his words, her heart skipping a beat. Soap’s playful charm was almost as dangerous as his gun skills.

Ghost, who had been standing silently nearby, finally spoke up. “Knowing is just as important as shooting. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Y/n looked up, surprised at his words. For a man who rarely spoke, his approval felt oddly reassuring.

Over the next few days, Y/n became an unexpected asset to the team. While she stayed far away from the firefights, her knowledge of weapons proved invaluable. When Gaz needed help adjusting his L85, Y/n suggested modifications that improved its handling. Even Price asked her for input on some of their loadouts.

“You ever think about joining the service?” Gaz asked one evening, adjusting his optic according to Y/n’s recommendations.

Y/n shook her head, laughing nervously. “No, definitely not. I’m just a writer. I like researching and imagining how things play out in stories.”

Gaz smiled. “Well, you’ve got a good eye, at least. Could’ve fooled me into thinking you were a professional.”

Y/n flushed with embarrassment, but a part of her felt proud. Being recognized for her knowledge was a new experience, and it felt… nice.

Soap had been watching them from across the room, his gaze lingering on Y/n a bit longer than usual. There was something endearing about her shy, awkward manner, and the way she came alive when talking about guns. He’d never met anyone quite like her.

“Oi, lass,” Soap called, walking over and resting a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we grab some food after this? We’ve got time to kill.”

Y/n blinked up at him, surprised by the invitation. “Um… sure?”

His grin widened. “Good. I’ll even let you pick my brain about my rifle mods. Bet you’ve got some ideas.”

Y/n’s stomach fluttered. Was this Soap’s way of… flirting? She wasn’t sure, but the prospect of spending more time with him made her nerves buzz with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

As the team prepared for their next mission, Soap handed Y/n his rifle again, grinning as she took it into her hands.

“Take care of her for me while we’re gone,” he said softly, his tone more serious than usual.

Y/n nodded. “I will. Be careful, Soap.”

“Careful is my middle name, lass,” he replied, his smile softening as he glanced down at her. “And don’t miss me too much, aye?”

Y/n bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. “No promises.”

Price gave Soap a knowing look as they geared up. “Keep your head on straight, Sergeant.”

“Always do, sir,” Soap replied with a wink, though he couldn’t help the quick glance he shot Y/n’s way.

Ghost, watching the exchange in silence, pulled Y/n aside before they left. “You’ve got their attention,” he said quietly, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. “But just so you know… we’re all watching out for you, too.”

Y/n looked up at Ghost, her heart fluttering. “Thank you, Ghost. I… appreciate it.”

Ghost gave her a small nod before rejoining the team. There was something almost protective in the way he spoke to her, and it left Y/n feeling a little less alone. Maybe it was more than just professional concern… she wasn’t sure.

When they returned, the 141 arrived to find their little civilian surrounded by sketches and pages on Soap's weapon of choice, crumpled ideas filling a small trash bin off to the side.

Soap raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You weren’t kiddin’, were ya? What’ve you got for me?”

Y/n hesitated for a moment before handing over the notebook. “Just some ideas… I thought the balance might be improved with a different stock. And maybe try swapping the optic for one with better peripheral vision…”

Soap whistled low. “You’ve got a sharp eye. I might just try these out.”

Price nodded approvingly as he glanced at the notes. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little armorer here.”

Y/n’s heart swelled at the compliment. “I’m just… happy to help.”

Y/n sat across from Soap, her fingers tracing the outlines of the modifications on his M4. She was shy, but Soap had a way of coaxing her out of her shell. As she explained her thoughts on the mechanics, Soap leaned in a bit closer, his gaze softening as he watched her talk. He wasn’t just listening to her words anymore—he was captivated by her passion.

“Y’know, lass,” Soap said quietly, his Scottish lilt more pronounced as he leaned even closer, “you’re somethin’ else. Never met anyone who could talk about guns like this and make it sound… beautiful.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, and her voice faltered for a moment. Soap wasn’t shy about his interest—there was a hint of playfulness in his smile, but something more genuine in his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat as she caught his gaze. There was something in his eyes—something soft, affectionate even. And for a moment, Y/n wondered if maybe, just maybe, there was more to this connection than just professional respect.

Gaz noticed the exchange, nudging Soap with a knowing grin. “Careful, mate. Looks like someone’s got their sights set on you.”

Soap chuckled, his eyes still on Y/n. “Wouldn’t mind if she did.”

Y/n found herself spending more time with Gaz as he tinkered with his weapons. He appreciated her insights and enjoyed the quiet moments they shared as she worked beside him.

Gaz would often lean in just a little too close, their shoulders brushing, or he’d offer her a smile that lingered just a bit too long. One evening, as they worked on his rifle together, Gaz’s hand accidentally brushed against hers. Instead of pulling away, he let his fingers linger, his warm touch sending a tingle through her skin.

“You’re really somethin’, Y/n,” he murmured softly. “Don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Y/n looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat. There was a warmth in his gaze that made her feel safe… and something more.

Soap had been openly playful with Y/n, but Ghost had always been more guarded. Still, Y/n couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes followed her when he thought no one was looking, or how he’d linger near her after missions, checking in on her quietly. One evening, when the team returned from a particularly rough mission, Ghost approached Y/n while the others celebrated. He didn’t say much, but his presence alone was enough to make her heart race.

“You did good today,” Ghost said in that deep, gravelly voice of his. “You’ve been lookin’ after us. Makes me want to do the same for you.”

Y/n looked up at him, surprised by the gentleness in his tone. For a man who rarely showed emotion, Ghost’s words felt like a confession of sorts.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I… I feel the same.”

Ghost’s hand brushed her arm—just a brief touch, but enough to send a shiver through her. There was something protective in the way he hovered nearby, as though he was guarding more than just the team’s safety.

As the team geared up for their next mission, Y/n found herself spending time with Price. The captain had always been a calming presence, his steady demeanor keeping her grounded when things got overwhelming. He’d started inviting her to have tea with him during quiet moments between missions, and Y/n found comfort in those simple, peaceful interactions.

One evening, after a particularly stressful day, Price handed her a cup of tea, his fingers brushing against hers as she took it. His touch lingered, and Y/n looked up, catching the warmth in his eyes.

“Can’t say I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, Y/n,” Price said softly. “You’ve got a sharp mind, a good heart… and I reckon there’s not a man in this team who doesn’t see it.”

Y/n blushed, her heart fluttering as Price’s words settled over her. He was always so composed, so calm, but there was a hint of something more in his gaze tonight.

“I… I’ve never met anyone like you either, Captain,” Y/n whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Price’s hand found hers, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in a tender gesture. “John,” he corrected gently. “Call me John.”

The bonds between Y/n and the members of Task Force 141 had been growing stronger every day, but as time passed, the affection each man held for her became undeniable. They had all noticed the way they each gravitated toward her—the protective glances, the subtle touches, the playful teasing that always ended with Y/n blushing. None of them felt jealousy; instead, they shared a sense of understanding that their love for her wasn’t something that needed to be exclusive.

One evening, after another long day of planning and preparation, the team sat around a campfire, Y/n nestled comfortably between them. Ghost sat beside her, his large hand resting gently on her thigh, while Soap leaned against her shoulder, his arm draped around her waist. Gaz sat across from them, his gaze warm as he watched her, and Price, always calm and collected, looked at her with a fondness that had grown over time.

Y/n felt the tension in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was as if they were all waiting for something to be said, some unspoken truth to be acknowledged. Finally, Soap was the one to break the silence.

“Lass,” he began, his voice unusually soft, “we’ve all been dancin’ around this for a while now. It’s clear we all care about you—more than just mates, if you know what I mean.”

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked around the fire, meeting each man’s gaze in turn. They were all watching her, waiting for her response, but there was no pressure in their eyes. Only love and patience.

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly. “I… I care about all of you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But how… I mean, is this even possible?”

Price smiled, the kind of smile that always put her at ease. “It’s possible if we make it so,” he said gently. “We’ve all had a talk, and none of us want to hold you back or keep you from anyone else. If this is what you want, we’ll figure it out together.”

Ghost’s hand tightened slightly on her thigh, his gaze dark and protective. “We’ll take care of you, Y/n,” he murmured. “All of us.”

Gaz nodded, his usual playful demeanor softened by the seriousness of the moment. “You don’t have to choose between us. We’re in this together, yeah?”

Tears welled up in Y/n’s eyes, but they weren’t from sadness or confusion—they were from relief. She had never imagined that the people she had grown so close to could share their love so openly, without jealousy or resentment. It was a kind of love she had never known, but one she had always craved.

“I… I want this,” she said finally, her voice stronger now. “I want all of you.”

As time went on, the team found their rhythm. They took turns spending time with Y/n—sometimes individually, sometimes together. There was no need for jealousy or competition, because they all knew that Y/n loved them equally, and they loved both her and each other in return. The dynamic was based on mutual respect, love, and understanding.

When they were on missions, they worked seamlessly together, their bond only strengthening their performance in the field. Back at base, they shared moments of intimacy and laughter, knowing that their love for Y/n—and for each other—was something rare and beautiful.

Y/n had never felt so loved or accepted. Each of them brought something different to her life, and together, they completed her in ways she had never imagined possible. And in return, she gave them her heart, her trust, and her love—knowing that, together, they were unstoppable.

[tomswifty-fr]

Last post got me thinking about horns and okay, people love to draw dragons with piercings through their horns and make accents with whitespace illusions of holes through the horns. I also do this, it looks badass, but horns are bone? They're alive bone? And I've been trying to figure out how to make it work that's not only "magic".

There are all kinds of crazy horn modifications out there that just do things to the keratin - dying, carving, tattoos, caps, getting stuff enameled or embedded in the surface, as well as surface-level piercings - but having something go through the horn itself is Hard Core. That's an extreme level of body modification. It's the kind of thing you have to seek out a specialist for, and vet them thoroughly. If surface level relief carving is getting an earlobe pierced, then an all-through horn piercing is like corneal tattooing or those guys who implant magnets in their fingers.

The procedure is performed with something like a biopsy needle, but larger, and involves plague magic to control pain and sterilize and shape the wound. Even with numbing, it hurts like hell and the infection risk is high. Since you can't just leave your marrow exposed to the air, the opening is fitted with something like a gauge made of bioceramic or, less ideally, a body-safe plastic. It's common for these to made to look like other materials, or to have a veneer applied after it heals.

Recovery is simplified by the fact that there's no open wound and no joint involved, but it still hurts a lot and has to be kept an eye on. This usually includes follow-up visits with the artist or a doctor to check for signs of infection and administer medicine or magic to promote bone healing. The worst-case scenario is finding a crack in either the horn or the gauge, since that means potentially bacteria inside, I emphasize, your bones. The patient may or may not be provided sealant or disinfectant to put around the edge of the gauge, but it's unclear whether these actually help.

Once it's healed, you can either leave it as a hole or put stuff in it. Rings are a classic, as are various dangly things and plugs with cool designs.

[streetsimpletherapyinc]

What Is Pediatric Speech Therapy Bellbrook OH?

Pediatric Speech Therapy Bellbrook OH works with children and their families to assist each child in reaching their maximum potential to function independently and to promote active participation in home, school, and community environments. Therapists have expertise in movement, motor development, and body function (e.g., strength and endurance). They apply clinical reasoning during examination, evaluation, diagnosis, and intervention for children, youth, and young adults. As primary healthcare providers, PTs also promote health and wellness as they implement a wide variety of supports in collaboration with families, communities, and other medical, educational, developmental, and rehabilitation specialists.

What Roles Does the Family Play?

 Parents and families have the primary role in their child's development. Pediatric Therapy collaborates with the family to promote development and implement an individualized intervention program. Families are supported through coordination of services, advocacy, and assistance to enhance the development of their child. This can include:

• Positioning during daily routines and activities

• Adapting toys for play

• Expanding mobility of speech options

• Using equipment effectively

• Facilitating safety for the home and community

• Accessing community programs and resources

• Providing information on the child's physical and health care needs

• Supporting family caregiving

• Smoothing transitions from early childhood to school and into adult life

The process of supporting children and families begins with an interview, or conversation, to identify the child's needs and family's concerns and continues with an examination and evaluation of the child in the context of their daily routines and activities. This examination may include, but not be limited to, mobility, sensory and neuromotor development, use of assistive technology, muscle and joint function, strength and endurance, cardiopulmonary status, posture and balance, and oral motor skills. The process of providing pediatric speech therapy continues with collaboration, consultation, and intervention. Physical therapist assistants may be involved with the delivery of therapy services under the direction and supervision of a licensed PT.

Where a Person Can Receive the Best Pediatric Therapy

Pediatric speech therapy may be provided in natural learning environments, including home, childcare centers, preschools, schools, job sites, recreational centers, and other community settings. Children and families also may have contact with pediatric Therapists in hospitals and clinics when receiving Therapy for medically-related conditions, specialty health care services, or during episodes of acute care. 

Questions to ask an Occupational Therapist Dayton OH:

How much direct help does my child really need?

Is their equipment to help my child manage more tasks on his or her own?

Can my home be made safer and more convenient for my child and possibly a caregiver?

How can daily life in my home better meet the needs of all family members?

How can the caregiver find assistance for an individual who cannot be left alone in the home?

Certified Occupational Therapy Assistants assist with evaluating and treating individuals with illnesses, injuries, cognitive impairments, psychosocial dysfunctions, mental illness, developmental or learning disabilities, physical disabilities, or other special needs or conditions. They can perform the tasks of the Occupational Therapist under their supervision. 

Ways To Achieve Benefits of Accent Modification Therapy Dayton OH

Enhanced Communication ● Improve clarity and comprehension in your speech. ● Build better relationships with colleagues, clients, and friends. ● Express yourself more effectively in professional and personal settings.

Increase Confidence ● Boost your self-confidence and self-esteem. ● Feel more at ease in interviews, presentations, and public speaking engagements.

Carееr Advancement ● Increase your chances of career progression. ● Open up opportunities in a global job market.

Cultural Sensitivity ● Maintain your cultural identity while adapting to diverse communication styles. ● Improve cross-cultural interactions and connections.

Conclusion

In conclusion, pediatric speech therapy plays an essential role in helping children with disabilities or developmental delays reach their maximum potential to function independently and actively participate in their environments. The Therapy involves collaboration between the therapist and the family to promote development and implement an individualized intervention program. Additionally, Therapy may be provided in natural learning environments, such as the child's home, child care centers, schools, recreational centers, and other community settings. Asking questions to an occupational therapist in Dayton, OH, can help families gain a better understanding of how they can improve their child's quality of life. Accent modification therapy in Dayton, OH, can also provide several benefits, including enhanced communication, increased confidence, career advancement, and cultural sensitivity.

[lebada]

guy is straight up improvising notes on my fav waltz now this is crazy. i can play this piece w my eyes closed so every 'artistic liberty' he takes feels so jarring

im listening to the rubinstein chopin waltzes and tell me why hes making so many mistakes...

[ultram0th]

A New Life

Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3

It’d been almost a year since Blue had hypnotized his new boyfriends.

The first had been Kevin Jonas, and Blue had managed to convince the former boy band member that he was just some slutty streamer who loved to be musky all day. Whereas Kevin used to have the boy-next-door motif, he now looked like he’d been ripped straight out of a 70’s porn flick, complete with the mustache and hairy chest.

Second had been Nick Jonas. The singer was now a cowboy who had to play with his nipples in order to get off. Sure, Nick had played tons of gay roles for shows in the past, the stud was now living it: showing off and fondling his sensitive chest for everyone to see on stream, all the while moaning in that new country accent of his.

Finally, Wolfe Glick had joined the group. The competitive Pokémon player had gone from good boy to an entirely different definition of the phrase. His body had been pumped full of steroids, turning him into an absolute muscle monster who lived to be praised by Blue and the others. Not only was he a good boy in the new sense, but he also acted as guard dog for the group’s house, growling at anyone who walked too close to the front door.

The three of them would frequently stream together online, playing numerous video games and showing off for the chat. Speaking of, the chat would often times egg them on, tipping them if they sniffed/licked one another’s pits or flexed their muscles for the camera. Their streams proved to be immensely popular, and the three altered men were loving their new lives.

However, at the end of the day, Blue couldn’t deny that he felt a little semblance of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Of course, he loved his life with his three slutty streamer boyfriends, and he wouldn’t change them (back) for the world; however, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the voice in the back of his head that told him that they were only with him because of the hypnosis. No matter how happy they looked and no matter how great the sex was, the hypnotherapist still knew deep down that they wouldn’t be there if he hadn’t hypnotized them in the first place.

Therefore, one day Blue called the three of them down to his office. 

The trio lumbered into the office, each of them a little confused as to why this impromptu meeting had been called. Each one of them was dressed in just a jockstrap; with the exceptions being Nick’s cowboy hat and Wolfe’s dog collar. They shared the couch with one another, with Wolfey taking up most of the space with his extra wide bulk. The three of them were shirtless, each one of them preferring to be as uncovered as possible. Musk wafted off their hot bodies in waves since they’d just finished showing off on stream, the stench of sexual excitement permeating the air.

“What’s up?” Kevin asked.

Blue leaned back in his chair, unsure of how to approach the issue that he was feeling. He wanted to ask if they would still be with him on their own free will, but at the same time, he didn’t know how to possibly explain the current situation to them. Hence, he figured that the band-aid method would be best.

Snap! the hypnotherapist snapped his fingers, each man on the couch wincing as they felt as if they’d just been hit by a freight train.

Immediately, the three men felt a rush as the onslaught of the year’s past memories came back at them full force. They each paled at the memories of what they’d done on stream as well as the body modifications that they’d undergone.

“Wh-what?” Kevin stuttered as he blushed furiously, feeling as if he’d burst into flames over the humiliation he felt over seeing himself sniff at his hairy pits for hundreds to see. He looked down at himself, feeling incredibly exposed as his hairy body was clad in just a small jockstrap. Worse was that his cock was still half-hard, despite being surrounded by other guys.

In the middle of the couch, Nick grabbed his cowboy hat off his head and placed it in his lap so that he could shield his own jockstrap bulge from view of the other men. He was red from head to toe, and despite himself, his perky nipples still burned with want. It took all of his willpower to not tug on them in front of the other men, and he had to focus on his humiliation in order to stay grounded. The poor guy even struggled with the odd sensation of feeling naked without his hat on… despite truly being nearly nude. His lack of a cowboy hat seemed to be the catalyst for his sense of discomfort.

Lastly, Wolfe first noticed how heavy he felt. He looked down at his body and gasped loudly as he saw how large he now was. With shaking hands, he moved barely flexible arms to feel at his large, new bodybuilder form. He was huge and he blushed as his new form kept rubbing up against itself with every movement. “Wh-what happened to me?” he panicked, his voice sounding a bit deeper than it should’ve.

The three men looked at Blue with wide, frightened eyes as they struggled to piece the last year’s events together. They knew that he was behind it, and their humiliation was mixed with anger over how they’d been forced to act against their will. More embarrassing was that, despite how horrified they were at this epiphany, there was a growing part inside each of them that was excited over the thought of showing off for the camera— a spark of pleasure forming at the idea of handfuls of men watching them pleasure themselves.

The hypnotherapist held his hands out in front of himself in a genuine gesture. “Listen,” he said, his voice slow and soothing, “I’ve had you three hypnotized over the past year. Each one of you had been brought to believe that you were a gay, slutty streamer and that we’d all been in a poly-relationship together.”

Each of the men on the other couch blushed at this epiphany but despite their shock, they couldn’t deny the foreign tingling they felt deep inside as their broad, bare shoulders constantly brushed up against one another’s. Plus, with the three of them on one sofa, their musk permeated the small living room. Poor Wolfe’s arms were too large and they kept jostling against his bulbous pecs, preventing him from covering his hardening bulge in the front of his tiny jockstrap.

“I simply used hypnotherapy to convince each one of you to let down your inhibitions and unleash a hidden part of yourself— and behold!” Blue gestured at the three men on the couch. “Think about it. I released you from the hypnosis, but what do you all feel in this moment?”

Instinctually, the three altered men wanted to lash out at the smaller guy on the other side of the living room. However, they couldn’t help but ponder the question presented to them all.

Kevin thought back to his transformation into a hairy slut. Of course there was a part of him that missed his old boy band life, but he could not deny that there was a thrill that rippled through him at the thought of showing off on camera for tons of other men to gawk at. He was rock hard as he breathed in the other guys’ musk, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t deny that he was eager to get back on camera as soon as possible. 

Nick experienced the same influx of emotions: embarrassment, anger, and above all horniness. Although he couldn’t shake his thick country boy accent, Nick didn’t really seem to mind the thought of showing off his body to other guys. He’d done it before on TV as he’d played plenty of LGBTQ+ characters. The only difference now was that he was actually living the part. Also, his chest burned with want, and never before had Nick ever gotten off so intensely than when he’d had his nipples toyed and played with. He severely doubted that even if he did go back to his old life, that he’d ever experience pleasure as great as when Blue would thumb his hard nips. The mere thought already made his tits burn with deep desire.

Wolfe was obviously the most drastically transformed. The stud knew that no matter what, there was no way he could ever trade in his new bodybuilder bulk for his old body; nor did he really want to. His chest felt cumbersome and he couldn’t see over the shelf his large pecs created. His arms were thick and barely movable. When he walked, he was forced to lumber side to side in a waddling stride. But despite all of that, he loved how much he dwarfed the other men in the house. He could easily pick up each of them and toss them over this broad shoulder, the simple action filling him with a protective contentment. Deep down, Wolfe had always been described as a sweet puppy by his friends, and now he was a sweet guard dog… just significantly bigger.

Overall, as Kevin, Nick, and Wolfe each thought about what had been done to them, they didn’t take long to realize that at the end of the day, they all loved it and they couldn’t imagine leaving their new lives of pleasure to return to their old, boring ones.

But still, they each wanted Blue to pay.

Each man wore a mischievous smirk as they looked over at the small hypnotherapist.

Kevin, being the first one transformed and therefore assuming the role as leader of the group, spoke up. “You’re right,” he admitted, “we love our new lives. But for doing this to us against our will, you owe us.”

Blue’s heart sped up in his chest. “What do you mean?” he asked, feeling himself getting hard as he stood in front of the three larger men.

Wolfey stepped forward and easily tossed the smaller man over this broadened shoulder, puffing out his muscled chest with pride as he carried him back up the stairs to their shared bedroom. Kevin and Nick eagerly followed behind.

As soon as they were in the bedroom, Blue was gently tossed down onto the bed before all three of the men pounced at once.

They took turns shoving their hairy, musky armpits into Blue’s face, forcing the smaller man to lap at them hungrily with his tongue, which he did so gleefully. Kevin’s were especially musky, and he went so far as to place his hand on the back of Blue’s head to shove his face deeper into them. 

Each of the larger men was rock hard, their massive cocks springing out as they tore their tight jockstraps away from themselves as they anticipated their hypnotherapist boyfriend taking care of them.

Kevin grabbed Blue from behind, placing both of his hands on the other man’s hips. Nick tore away Blue’s pants, allowing the other man to line up his throbbing cock with the smaller guy’s hole. 

“Oooohhh!” Blue moaned loudly as Kevin entered him. The rest of the guys cheered in the bedroom as the sounds of Blue’s clapping cheeks rang out, Kevin thrusting into his throbbing hole like a mad man. 

Wolfey circled around the bed and grabbed a hold of Blue’s head (having a little difficultly with his bulky muscles getting the way). Wolfe’s hard cock bobbed in front of Blue’s face, his purple-flushed head leaking precum as it brushed against Blue’s slack jaw as he moaned.

Without hesitation, the hypnotherapist took in Wolfe’s hard cock in his mouth, moaning loudly as he was being stuffed full by both ends. 

Kevin fucked his aching hole while Wolfey fucked his face. 

Not wanting to feel left out, Nick hungrily rushed forward and snatched both of Blue’s hands, shoving them onto his hairy pecs. Blue took his cue and began to tug on Nick’s sensitive nipples, causing the cowboy stud to moan like a needy slut.

All four men heatedly fucked in the small bedroom that they shared, illustrating their new roles in life. No longer did Kevin, Nick, and Wolfe feel angry about being turned into slutty streamers. They loved their new lives and they loved their new boyfriend that they all shared.

Blue moaned as he was fucked both ways and as he groped Nick, loving having all three of his boyfriends use him to get off.

Kevin, Nick, and Wolfe each came at the same time, filling up the small hypnotherapist with their cum from both ends while Nick’s coated his chest.

Blue lied on the bed, spent from being used by his boyfriends, a smile on his tired face.

“I’d say we’re even now,” Kevin smirked as he crossed his arms in front of his hairy chest.

..The End..

[revelboo]

AAAH!! I wasn't expecting you to actually do a story for Rumble 😭 I squealed when I saw it on my timeline 💙 thank you so much and every blessing upon ye, I hope your crops are flourishing, skin is clear etc. etc.

🤣 18+ content 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 2

IDW Rumble x Reader

• Almost groaning when the little human leans back to put some space between them, his servos flex against soft skin, wanting to pull you back to him. Wanting more as he drops his head against the crook of your neck, mouth finding and chasing the quick beat of your pulse. Hearing that husky laugh of yours that runs electric through him to wind him tight as his palms slide over your soft body. Why had he been so against coming here? He loves it here, loves the noise and press of bodies. Especially yours as he does drag you back to him. “Maybe we can make this a private party?” You ask and he’s not entirely sure what you mean by that, but he’s hoping his guess is right.

• Your stranger’s mouth is on your neck, his lips branding heat over your skin, feeling the barest slip of teeth threatening to nip sending need shivering through you. Forget taking him home as your blood heats. You want this. Pulling away makes him make a low noise that’s almost a growl of protest as you grip his hand and tug him along with you. Half your attention on keeping an eye out for your ex to avoid a fight as you lead your new friend toward the back storage room. You’d worked in the club right out of high school and knew no one ever bothered to lock that door, and you thank every deity you can think of when you find it still unlocked now. It’s darker in here the one bulb hanging from a bare socket doing little to chase away the shadows as you turn to lock the door behind you both.

• Reaching as soon as the lock clicks, Rumble pulls you back into him, servos sliding over you. Venting roughly against your throat, as you reach back to loop an arm around his neck. “Slow down, I’m not going anywhere,” you say, reaching back your other hand to run warm fingers over his thigh. “You want to take off the costume?”

• “No,” he growls, his own hand sliding down your belly, exploring with hesitant touches along the waist band of your jeans. “No.” The word is more insistent, almost desperate when you catch his wrist, like he thinks you’re about to stop him. Shuddering against your back when you guide his hand down the front of your clothes, showing him where you need him.

• Venting raggedly, he cups slick, warm flesh and finds your core to slip a servo inside, feeling the way your heat grips him. “That’s good,” you whisper, leaning your upper body across a container, thighs spreading to give him more access to stroke deeper, his spike aching to be freed. Pulling his hand free to try and figure out how to undo your coverings has you laughing again, the sound stroking over him. “No chill at all, huh?” Shifting to undo that little button and push your pants down. No, he doesn’t have any chill or restraint, wanting this. Needing it as he nudges you back down on your front over the container, freeing his spike to grip himself and slide his length against your slickness. “Wait, my purse. I think I have some-“ you’re saying as he finds you and buries himself inside that wet, welcoming heat that fists his spike, hearing you moan. “Never mind.”

• So much for condoms, but as he rocks his hips, that thick length stroking slowly inside you, there’s no worrying about anything beyond him moving. “Frag, you’re tight,” he snarls, that rough accent you can’t quite place right in your ear as his big hands tighten on your hips to the point you know there’ll be bruising, but he’s still not moving, so you do, rocking as much as you can with your hips up.

• You move against him, pushing yourself back and then he’s thrusting into that wet heat despite wanting to savor the feel of you wrapped around him, that sense of connection he’d been sure he’d never have because of his size, because of his modifications. You’re so small under him as he ruts against you, using his grip on your hips to pull you back to meet the urgent drive of his hips. Hearing the wet sounds of your body taking him and your low, needy sounds that are only for him, because this? It’s his. You’re his.

• He’s not holding back, hips slapping against you, moving hard and deliciously fast. And he is growling, hands flexing on your hips as his frantic thrusts drive you to that peak, then over as he drapes himself against your back with a deep drive of his hips, his mouth against the back of your shoulder, his hips moving in sharp, shallow thrusts as he releases and you tighten on the thick length of him inside you, milking him. “Rumble,” he groans against your skin, hips still moving in shallow, lazy thrusts and you can feel his excess on your inner thigh.

• You lay your cheek on your outstretched arm, head turning to look back at him from the corner of your eye. Smiling when he hesitantly reaches to slide sweat slick hair back from your temple, the intimate gesture stealing your breath for a moment. “Hi, Rumble,” you murmur, laughing softly when he presses himself tighter against you, sheathing himself deep and savoring it as his spark twists with a hunger that’s new and consuming. He’d never really paid much attention to organics before aside from Starscream’s and they were more like a particularly helpless sibling needing protecting. Nothing like this.

• He hasn’t taken off any of his costume except what he’d needed to free himself to fuck you. It’s weird, but not a deal breaker. Not with the lazy way your thighs are trembling or how he’d felt, still feels, inside you. “Can we go again?” He asks so earnestly, so hopefully, and you rock yourself against him in answer. Because while you’d only wanted a quickie to thank him, you’re wondering, praying, he’s single. Because the almost reverent way his big hands slide against your skin, the press of his mouth against your spine in a hungry kiss? This guy’s going to ruin you.

Previous

[tomahachi12]

do you have references for SD-Y and SD-T and can you tell us more about them?

it’s the girls!

took me long enough, gdamn..

I plan on dropping a lore dump on them similar to the one I made for Toma eventually, but for now, here’s some info for them belooooooow

Y and T were both present in the Elliott Manor, but not at the same time.

T was brought to the manor as Louisa’s personal maid, but was then reassigned as Tessa’s nursemaid after she was born. She took care of Tessa and pmuch raised her until she was around 6 years old.

T never liked how the drones were treated in the manor and one day spoke out against their mistreatment. As punishment, T was damaged and left to rot in the swamp.

She was later recovered, experimented on and brought back as a Disassembly Drone by Cyn.

—

Y was thrown out by the Company and was later found and repaired by Tessa and J. Y’s voice box was damaged when she was trashed and was taught how to speak again by Tessa. She picked up Tessa’s accent.

Y’s code is faulty, which causes her to be a bit clumsy. She would often drop or break things which would get Tessa in trouble. J didn’t like that and kept Y close to keep her from breaking anything. Tessa and Cyn could not fix her code. She’s still clumsy.

Y would often observe and even help Tessa repair new drones like V and N. She learned all she knows about drone repair and modifications from her.

—

pre finale

Y and T were part of the same squad. They hunted in an area close to Camp 98.7 and the Mining Facility. They wiped out Outpost 9.

Their leader, B, was killed by the sentinels when he attempted to enter Cabin Fever Labs.

T was ordered to “kill” Y when she was caught sparing the lives of a family of Worker Drones. T brutally ripped Y apart but her core was able to escape damage and got away.

Y took over the body of a dead worker drone and hid away inside Outpost 3 while she secretly built herself a new DDrone body. Uzi was very suspicious of her.

—

post finale

Y has her new body. She opens up a repair/modification shop close to outpost 3. Drones often come to her for repairs or upgrades. She builds Nori a new body (:

T has calmed down a bit and is running around somewhere.

[xsentatia]

Nonconfirmity in Bimbofication

I was watching a video essay that popped up in my reccomended and I realized one thing that I really love about the bimbo aesthetic (and I purely mean it from a 'traditional' aesthetic side - as a hyperfeminine, pink, plastic girl) - it is not conventionally attractive femininity. In spite of the surgeries it entails, the body modification, the insane upkeep, the typical "bimbo" look does not fit into the beauty standard.

It's "too girly", "too plastic" - literally (quoting from the video) as stated in Mean Girls "more plastic than person". Being this girly is ugly, middle aged women in walmart do, in fact, look at you weird. They will say "oh god! how could she do this to herself?!" - whilst you rock your full-pink outfit and 700cc boobs. If you looked at that and asked some fashion person to give you a makeover, they'd tone you down. Make you more typical, less over-the-top-feminine.

I, personally, in real life - usually dress in a quite masc way - loose jeans and tank tops dominate my daily wear, which is obviously also outside this typical, heteronormative idea of beauty. Pointing a bimbofication stick at myself and utterly inverting all of this, flipping it on its head into oversexed, overfeminine bimboland... still lands you outside of the typical, heteronormative idea of beauty.

I mean yeah, sure, you might be some guys wet dream if you're a bimbo, but that's where it ends. From a normative lens, you're an object, an accessory, a one night stand, a whore and a slut - a bimbo, in its traditional, pejorative meaning. You're (again, from a normative lens) nothing more than a wet dream. Maybe if you kicked the platinum blonde for a more traditional dirty one, left the pink to just accents, put on a longer skirt and had these awful globes of plastic removed from your chest, people would finally take you seriously.

You go from underdressed to overdressed, from underfeminine to overfeminine. all in all you go from "outside of what society deems as acceptable feminity" to "outside of what society deems as acceptable feminity". And I think that is precisely why I, if I am to present in a femme way, would much rather be an over the top bimbo, rather than a "natural beauty".

(Sorry for the different post than usual. Ik this is lots of words and they're not very sexy, but I needed to put this somewhere).

[s-soulwriter]

Writing the appearance of your OC

Here are 50 keyword questions that can help describe the appearance of an OC. I use them quite often, and I don't want to keep them hidden from you all. :)

Hair color?

Eye color?

Height?

Build?

Scars or tattoos?

Preferred clothing style?

Go-to accessory?

Signature color?

Any piercings?

Makeup or au naturel?

Unique facial features?

Hair length?

Any distinctive smells?

How do they carry themselves?

Voice tone or accent?

Any birthmarks?

Favored footwear?

Hand gestures?

Glasses or contacts?

Freckles or blemishes?

Nail care habits?

Physical fitness level?

Any handicaps?

Preferred posture?

Jewelry choices?

Facial expressions?

Teeth condition?

Preferred hairstyles?

Sun exposure habits?

Any allergies affecting appearance?

Sleep patterns' impact?

Aging signs?

How they handle stress physically?

Grooming routines?

Physical quirks or tics?

Weight distribution?

How they react to extreme temperatures?

Physical strengths or weaknesses?

Any enhancements or modifications?

Taste in perfumes or colognes?

Moisturizing habits?

Clothing fabric preferences?

Tattoos' meanings?

Jewelry sentimentality?

Do they change appearance over time?

Reaction to compliments or criticism?

Any nervous habits?

How they adapt to changing seasons?

Haircare rituals?

How they react to surprise appearances?

Hope this helps!