#something about the boys feeling comfortable enough with price to act like this

[cod-dump]

The Fort

TW: Silliness without plot, silliness, literally no serious plot

___

Price liked giving the boys days off together if he could, that way they could keep each other occupied. Believe it or not, they actually get into less trouble when two or more of them are free. They liked to hoard themselves in the rec room their entire day off, usually leaving the room in a mess by the time they left.

Price normally never witnessed the mayhem first-hand, always giving the boys their space to enjoy themselves. But he wanted to check on them after giving them a week off after a hard mission. He hadn't seen them for four days straight and just wanted to confirm they were alive. So he went to the rec room with cookies as a peace offering for intruding.

Price was not prepared for the sheer chaos that greeted him when he opened the door.

The couches were flipped over, leaning against the pool table with sheets thrown overtop. The boys were no where in sight and Price realized the TV was missing from its usual place, as well. The extension cords suggested it was in their makeshift fort. Price inched closer to the fort, hearing muttering from within it.

"Boys?"

The muttering ceased and a broomstick suddenly stuck out from the sheets, prodding Price in the stomach to keep him from coming any closer.

"Come no closer, fiend!"

Price blinked at Gaz's exclaim as what sounded like Soap and Roach laughing followed.

"Fiend?"

"Hold up-" Gaz sticks his head out from the sheets, "Oh! Hi, Captain! Sorry, we thought you were Ghost coming back to steal our bounty!"

Price blinked, processing what Gaz had said, "You're... trying to keep Ghost... from stealing your 'bounty'?"

Soap pokes his head out, "He kept eating all the crisps and wanted to control the TV so we kicked him out."

Roach pokes out from under Soap, "Now he's our mortal enemy."

"Huh... Alright, then. Well, I was coming to see if you boys were alive."

Roach points, "What's in the container?"

"Oh, Laswell's snickerdoodle cookies."

The three gasp, stars in their eyes. They disappear under the sheets, back into the fort, before they use the broomstick to open the sheets up.

"Welcome, Lord Price! Come share your treasure with us!"

Price snorts, "I have work to do, boys. Just came to check on you."

"Oh..."

"But these cookies are for you."

"YES!"

Price leans down to hand over the cookies when, suddenly, they're snatched from Price's hands.

"What-?"

He turns in time to see Ghost disappear out of the rec room. Price didn't have to say anything (or more like didn't have time to) before Gaz, Soap, and Roach charged out of the fort after Ghost.

"COME BACK HERE, THIEF!"

Price stands, blinking. He really had to get back to work but the boys were clearly doing something far more entertaining than whatever the SAS emailed him. Price decides to sit on the floor, pulling out his phone and checking the base's security footage. From there, he was able to watch the boys chase after Ghost throughout the halls.

Sadly, he couldn't hear what they were saying. And he knows it was hilarious. Though he was fairly entertained by how everyone else on base was reacting to the chaos of the 141's core members running around like madmen over a container of cookies.

Eventually, Ghost ran into the rec room. He got on his knees and slid past Price into the fort. The sheets fluttered closed by the time the other three ran in.

"GHOST!"

"My fort now."

Price covered his mouth to keep from laughing as Gaz was swatted by the broomstick when he tried to get back into the fort. Soap and Roach were also swatted when they got too close, making Price realize there was only one opening into their fort.

"YOU DISHONORABLE CRUMB OF DIRT! LEAVE OUR FORT IMMEDIATELY AND WE WILL SHOW YOU MERCY!"

Price snickered at the commitment Gaz was giving this bit.

"Let me think about it... Nah, I'm staying."

"THEN YOU LEAVE US NO CHOICE-"

"Oh please, what are you going to do? You can't touch me!"

Soap joins in, "Oh, fairest Ghost! May I join you inside?"

"No."

Soap gasps loudly, "I thought we had something!"

Price rolls his eyes and stands, "You boys have your fun-"

Price is stopped from leaving by Roach, "Lord Price! Help us retake our fort and we shall share our bounty with you!"

"Boys-"

Roach takes his goggles off and hits him with the saddest eyes Price has ever seen on him. Gaz and Soap quickly join in and Price sighs loudly, knowing he wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't help them.

"Fine. Step aside."

Price approaches the fort, ready for Ghost to swipe at him with the broomstick. Once he was close enough, the broomstick stuck out, ready to hit him. Price quickly grabbed it and yanked it out of Ghost's grasp.

There was a moment of silence before-

"Oh shit-"

"CHARGE!"

Gaz dives into the fort, Soap and Roach following suit. Immediately there was high pitched screaming and cursing. Price backed up, not sure what to expect. Suddenly, Ghost crawls out of the fort lightning speed, Gaz following him but only going a foot outside of the fort. Price yelps when Ghost knocks into his legs, sending him crashing to the floor.

"BLOODY HELL, SIMON!"

Ghost lays on top of him, Price wheezing by his weight being completely on his stomach. He wiggled around but found himself unable to get free.

"Listen here, you little shits! I have a hostage!"

Roach peeks out and gasps, "He has Lord Price!"

Gaz goes to charge out but Soap grabs him by the ankle, "No! Don't! There's no telling what he might do to him!"

"That's right! He's in danger until you give into my demands!"

Gaz glares, "What do you want?"

"To be let back into the fort!"

Gaz looks at Roach and Soap for their input before sighing, "Fine, you can come back."

"AND I WANT TO WATCH LEGALLY BLONDE!"

"FUCKING-"

Price groans, "Let him watch the movie!"

"UGH- FINE!"

Ghost gets off of Price and shoves his way back into the fort. Price wheezes as he sits up. He forgot how big of a guy Ghost was. Gaz crawls over to him.

"Are you alright, Lord Price?"

"I'll live. Is this seriously what you boys get up to on your days off?"

Gaz blinks, "Yea? What else would we do?"

Price stares before shrugging.

"DON'T EAT ALL THE COOKIES!"

Gaz immediately darts back into the fort. Price rolls his eyes but smiles as he stands. He begrudgingly went back to his boring office and to do his boring reports. He'll have to see if there's room for him in the fort tomorrow.

[beloveds-embrace]

I dunno if I've harassed you yet buuuut,

I just read the newest take on the text and they'll be there guard dogish 141, and just. What if an anxious little bird just walks up to one it the group and just squeezes into the crowd and just.

"ignore me I'm about to lose my shit" or just stands there and gives a small hi cause they're overstimmed or need a break or someone's been creepy and they see that people keep a wide berth from said person or group.

Hi I'm excited I hope anything here made a bit of sense. Also possible reverse 'guard dog' distribution system, the small bird doesn't find a dog. The dog finds a bird.

You aren’t harassing me at all! Please don’t ever feel like that 😭💕 i love, love both scenarios, so I’ll do the second one later as well. Thank you for this wonderful ask!

The dim hum of the pub was comforting- warm light glowing against worn wood, the steady murmur of conversations buzzing around you. It had been your usual spot for a quiet drink after a hard week, but tonight was different, and not in a good way.

Someone had been watching you, and not in the harmless, fleeting way most people did. His gaze lingered too long, his smirk too wide, his attempts to approach you far too persistent even when you refused the drink he’d sent towards you. When you’d brushed him off the third time like that, you could see clearly on his face that he didn’t like that.

Men like him were common, but that just made them all the more dangerous.

The weight of his presence was suffocating, so you’d bolted toward the one corner of the room where you felt the most secure. Them.

You’d seen them here before- an unassuming group at first glance, but the way they carried themselves screamed “don’t mess with us.” Four men with their thighs each bigger than your head at the very least, and tonight, they were your only hope.

Standing up and doing your best to ignore the angry gaze practically boring into you, you approached their table cautiously, feeling several pairs of sharp eyes land on you. Mutton chops tilted his head, pretty boy stood from his seat slightly, brow furrowed. Mohawk’s wide grin faltered, replaced with curiosity, while the last one’s gaze, though obscured by his balaclava, was cold and assessing.

You should probably ask for their names. If they let you sit you with them, that is.

“Uh- so sorry to bother,” you started, voice shaking slightly. “But…there’s this guy…” You didn’t need to finish. Balaclava’s attention shifted subtly, big shoulders tightening as his eyes flicked past you. Mohawk’s grin returned, but this time, even in the dim light, you could tell it was dangerous.

“Where?” Mutton chop asked, his voice steady but just as sharp as his eyes

You subtly nodded toward the man at the bar, who was now visibly trying to act like he wasn’t watching your every move. The second he noticed who you were speaking to, his face drained of color. He turned away, gripping his drink like it might shield him.

Pretty boy snorted. “Well, ain’t that something? Big man suddenly doesn’t have the guts, eh?”

“Stay here.” Balaclava said firmly, standing up with the kind of slow, deliberate movement that made your stomach flip. The other three followed suit, each moving with the kind of quiet unity that could only come from working together for years. Maybe they were a team? You knew there was a military base somewhere nearby, could they be from there?

Still, you obeyed and stayed behind, heart thundering in your chest as they approached the man- not from fear, but from excitement. Ghost leaned in, his imposing frame towering over the guy. Whatever was said was too low for you to hear, but the way your harasser paled, hands shaking as he grabbed his coat and bolted from the pub, told you enough.

When they returned and introduced themselves, Soap clapped you lightly on the back with a bold grin. “Dinnae think he’ll be botherin’ you again, lass.”

Price pulled a chair out for you, right with their table. “Sit. You’re safe here. Anyone who’s got a problem with you’s got a problem with us now.”

You sank into the chair, warmth spreading through your chest. You didn’t know them, not really, but in that moment, you felt like you’d just gained four overprotective, no-nonsense bodyguards. Is this what celebrities felt like? It was amazing.

“Thank you, really,” you repeated, giving them such a grateful, blinding smile. “Again, I’m so sorry for bothering you like that. It was just-“

Gaz shook his head, not letting you finish. “No need to, love. We don’t mind at all. Just enjoy your night now, yeah? No more of pricks like him bothering you.”

And judging by the way Soap was already offering to buy you a drink and Ghost’s subtle but watchful eye, you were honestly more than okay with that.

[thegnomelord]

yk how they cover fighting dog's eyes in order to calm them down? would that work on Hound or just rile him up more? if it'd calm him down I can imagine when/if he's "better" enough he'd start shoving his face into price or any of the other 141 to feel safer/calm, like nuzzling in between their shoulder blades/neck or if they're lying down together just pushing his head into their arms 😶‍🌫️

hmmm Price holding Hound against his chest to calm him while he claws and begs into his captain's skin for forgiveness because he acted out again, even if Price had already forgiven him🤔

if the loss of sight just makes things worse then I can see all of them always making sure Hound can know where they are, making noise when they can and maybe even dragging their feet a bit so he doesn't swivel his head around constantly to look for them😚 ignore this if u want tho reading it back is making me cringe a bit-

No, no, anon this is great! Y'all are giving me so many ideas♥️

I definitely think Price would have done that to Hound before he got captured, putting his beanie or just his hand over Hound's eyes and talking about Hound like he wasn't even there to basically calm him down. Like you know how you're a kid sitting between your parents and they're talking about you but you're snoozing or something like that. It would have just been comforting for Hound.

But Makarov soured it by using sensory deprivation as a punishment. And a pretty severe one at that, so Hound gets extremely violent when his sight is deprived.

But also like, when Hound's better, letting them cover his eyes as just this huge show of trust just melts my heart. Like:

CW:SFW just a bunch of fluff, cuddle piles

This feels. . . strange.

You're laying on top of Price, practically crushing him beneath your weight, your head and shoulders pushed beneath his loose shirt so you can lay your head on his naked chest. It's dark, and warm, the scent of musk and sweat curls in your nose as his thick chest hair tickles your face with every even breath, his heart beating so calmly beneath your ears.

It's strange. It's the best way you can describe it; a part of you is disgusted with the proximity, panic occasionally jolting through your system and lining your muscles with lead as your body expects for the hit to come any moment. Only for a calloused hand to run down your spine gently, turning your tense muscles into mush.

"You're alright lad." His voice rumbles in his chest, a type of tone that is both calming and commanding. "Just listen to my voice yeah? Good boy," A pleasant shiver runs up your spine as the praise, a low whimper escaping you as you nuzzle your head further into his pecs. Your head feels stuffed with cotton yet his low praises still reach your brain, and it feels strange to get them without any work, to be praised just for simply existing, but it's also. . . nice.

"Oi Price-" You tense immediately as the door suddenly opens, loud voices shooting lightning into your muscles. Price scruffs you through the shirt before you can react any more, calming you down to the point you don't even notice what they're talking about.

"Wh- Soap!" Price shouts.

You feel the bed dip, a disgruntled sound leaving your chest as a body shuffles under Price's shirt next to you. Soap's scent hits your nose before his head bumps into yours, "Yer like a pig in shite pup." His hair scratches your face as he makes himself comfortable on Price's other pec, and you don't need sight to know he's grinning like a fool. "Cozy in 'ere."

"How comfortable are his tits?" Ghost's voice reaches your ears, and it must be his body that lays down next to yours, supporting some of your weight that you're not crushing Price by wrapping a loose hand around your waist. His body is solid against yours, both of them are, Johnny's arm wrapping around you just bellow Simon's hand, unapologetically groping your ass.

"Boys!" Price sputters, and without sight you can only imagine how flushed his face must be, he always got red as a lobster when you'd tease him. "Can't you be decent for one day?"

"We're wearing pants aren't we?" Gaz's laugh sounds somewhere behind you, and you're pretty sure it's Gaz that lays down between your legs, using your ass as a pillow. "Oh, wow," You hear him mumble as if astonished, heat burning across your skin as you feel him nuzzle into your ass.

A low whine escapes your throat without notice, and you're not sure why, just something about the way they handle you, like you're made of glass, makes lightning crackle down your spine.

"Do you want to stop?" Price's voice is non-judgmental, his hand brushing your hair that peeked through the stretched taught neckline of his shirt.

You shut your eyes, breathing in deeply. "No." You say, your arms gripping Price's pudgy stomach even tighter.

You feel Johnny shift closer to you, his lips blindly brushing against yours. "Aye, yer fine bonnie." He grins, and pushes his head to meet your lips in a proper kiss. You can taste the aftertaste of tobacco from his cigarettes and the mints on his tongue.

This is nice. You could get used to this.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

It's Inevitable

Prompt Day 4: Mistletoe | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Brief Period-Typical Homophobia | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, But Is The Town Pariah, First Kiss

The amount of eggnog Steve has requested they pick up is borderline insane. How many people is he expecting at his party tonight? Honestly. The line to checkout at the Big Buy is long, too long, and Eddie regrets offering to be the last minute errand boy.

Everybody's out in full-force stocking up for New Year's, and now it looks like he intends to drink his body weight in yellow sludge.

At least he forced Gareth into coming with him, so he isn't suffering alone.

Waiting for their turn to pay, there is a cardboard box floor display full of sprigs of mistletoe. Clearance priced and ready to move after Christmas. They've all seen better days, and are meant to be an impulse purchase to move them out the door, Unfortunately, Eddie falls for it, hook, line and sinker. He picks one up, and throws one in the top basket of the cart, and continues to wait as he glances at all the magazines, seeing what he can read for free while they're stuck in place.

"What's that for?" Gareth asks, picking up the mistletoe with two fingers, holding it outwards, like it might bite him. 

"The party," Eddie answers, "why are you acting like it's poisonous?"

"It is poisonous," Gareth answers, tossing it back into the cart, then brushes his hands against his jeans, like that will clean them, "Who are you trying to kill?"

"Sssh," Eddie hisses, looking around. It hasn't been long enough that he feels truly comfortable in town, and he definitely doesn't want killing associated with him any fucking longer. Jesus. He just wants to kiss someone. Is that too much to ask?

He doesn't think so.

"I just thought it might make the night interesting, that's all," Eddie finally answers.

"Interesting. Sure. Am I even invited to this party?" Gareth asks.

Eddie sighs, "Yes. You're invited where I'm invited, why do you keep asking that every damn time we do something with Steve?"

"He never talks to me. He only talks to you," Gareth grumbles.

"Do you want to talk to him?" Eddie asks.

"No, not really. But it might be nice to not feel invisible," he says, arms crossed, petulant.

Eddie will tell Steve to say hi or something, make the little shit happy.

The old man behind the register glares at him, which is par for the fucking course. He holds the mistletoe like Eddie is asking to use it on him, and Eddie has to bite his tongue to not be snarky, as the old asshole mumbles under his breath about Eddie being a freak, a queer, a murderer, and Eddie squeezes the handle of the cart. He's two of the three, but this asshole doesn't get to say so.

That's been the worst part of his reentry into society after barely surviving the court of public opinion. The scrutiny, the hatred, still so real that he doesn't feel comfortable being himself in town. He escaped being convicted for murders he didn't commit by the skin of his teeth, thanks to Hopper's miraculous resurrection. He knows that.

But being quiet, and non-reactive, when he feels wronged, is soul-crushing.

He doesn't snap at him, but Gareth does, and nobody is about to cast stones at Carolyn Jones' little boy, freak or not. They are part of the fabric of town, like Eddie never will be.

Gareth sassing him on Eddie's behalf is enough to not make Eddie feel so fucking kicked while he's down, and Eddie smiles as he hands over Steve Harrington's money. Knowing if the old coot knew that, he'd shit bricks.

Back at Harrington's house, Eddie pulls the small bundle out of the sack. It's stupid. He's aware it's stupid. But it gives him a chance, so he's gonna do it. 

"Is that mistletoe?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, funny, right?" 

"For sure, I wonder what weird pairings of people we can lure under there?"

There's only one weird pairing Eddie cares about, and they are both standing right here, right now.

"I don't know, but I'm sure Gareth would appreciate being set up under here with someone cute."

Eddie drags over one of the dining room chairs, and makes sure he takes off his shoes so Mrs. Harrington doesn't see shoeprints if she ever comes home.

"You got a pushpin?" Eddie asks, and Steve disappears to find one. When he turns back up, Eddie loops the ribbon through, and stands on his tiptoes.

He can't quite reach. Fucking vaulted ceilings in rich people houses.

Steve laughs, "Let me get the step ladder." 

Eddie stands there looking at the door frame.

Steve climbs the ladder, and takes the mistletoe from Eddie's hand. And Eddie watches as Steve stretches upwards, pressing the sharp end of the tack into the wood. A sliver of his hairy belly showing as his sweater rides up.

The sweater is red, and looks so soft. Eddie wants to touch it. Touch him.

Steve lowers his arms and then they're just looking at each other.

Steve breaks their eye contact, and comes down one step, readjusting his shirt.

Then they're eye-to-eye again, and Eddie swallows. Shit.

"Well, huh, would you look at that?" Steve says, so fucking smooth that Eddie misses his meaning.

"Look at what?" Eddie asks, because all he can look at is Steve.

"We're standing under mistletoe. Wonder how that got there?"

And then Steve's leaning forward, using his smooth fucking lines on Eddie, and all Eddie can think is that he really shouldn't be doing this off the ground. He's liable to fall and crack open his skull.

But Steve slides his arm over Eddie's shoulder, moving to both pull him closer and keep him secure, as Steve's lips press against Eddie's.

Holy shit.

Eddie kisses back, and hopes that this isn't just Steve being silly. Hoping that maybe this was a mutual good excuse to get this ball rolling.

The moment Steve's tongue touches Eddie's, he knows it isn't a joke.

It's inevitable.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🌿

[sweetiecutie]

Yandere Draco Malfoy headcanons

Warnings: yandere behavior, toxic relationships, bullying, obsession, sexual implications but nothing is described, mention of anxiety and depression

Draco is a spoiled brat. Since birth, whenever he wanted something - it was delivered to him in a matter of hours - maximum a few days - in a fancy box decorated with huge sparkly bow on top of it. So when you, to his great astonishment, instead of throwing yourself at him tell him to go fuck himself - Draco gets pissed (and extremely anxious)

It’d be just perfect if you were a pureblood - absolutely no restraints for Draco in courting and spending time with you. If you happened to be a half-blood - he’d be extremely conflicted, but eventually just going so far as forging your personal documents, claiming that you’re a descent of an ancient pureblood family that happened to go missing due to a drastic accident and then being ‘found’ and ‘adopted’ by your parents. Same would go to a muggleborn darling, but I doubt he’d even pay attention to them in a first place

Draco grew up in environment where arranger marriages had always been an expected and usual thing, personal preferences and actual feelings rarely being involved; his parents had never felt anything but revulsion and loathing for each other - Draco’s idea of love is extremely twisted. Love, in his understanding, is when you’re official - when everyone in the family, school, country and world knows that you’re together, tied by strong bond of marriage. That’s what he’d been taught, that’s what he strongly believes in

That leads to Draco spreading rumors all around school about you two being in a relationship, even though it’s obviously a lie. He doesn’t need you to agree with all his stories - you may deny everything as much as you want but eventually everyone in Hogwarts will know that you two are involved with each other in some way. Even if some students don’t believe all the rumors going around, they would think twice before approaching you, not wanting to deal with Draco and his buddies

His logic is pretty much “If I can’t have you - no one can”. If you happened to have a partner - not for long. Once again, Draco would spread nasty lies about you constantly cheating on your S/o with him, and oh boy, can this man be persuasive. Soon enough your partner would be so fed up or simply ashamed of being in relationship with you, breaking up on you not even a few months in dating. And that would happen again and again with every one of your little silly love interests until you finally give up and come crawling to Draco since, well, he’s basically the only person in the whole castle offering you comfort and company

Draco is mean. He doesn’t know how to express his fondness and love obsession so he tries doing so through the ways already known to him - bullying. Snarky comments and snickering seem to accompany your every smallest movement, pale eyes being always fixated on you, waiting, praying for you to make at least one smallest mistake so that he’d finally have a reason to approach you, even if it’s to humiliate you

He’d deluge you with presents, basically trying to buy your affection. Anything you want - you get it. You like that sweater that doesn’t cost a quarter of its actual price - it will be lying on your bed neatly folded, a note attached to it saying “It would look better laying on my bedroom floor”. Want a diamond ring - of course, my dear, as many as you wish, but only after official “I Do”. You want ten liters of Unicorn’s bile - “Ew, that’s bloody gross. Here you go, fucking weirdo” - hands you four bottles filled with dark brown liquid. Where the hell did he even get it from? You said it just to test his limits

Even if you do eventually agree to step into relationship with Draco which is more of an act of pity, let’s be honest his behavior won’t get any better. Yeah, he stops with bullying for sure, but his obsession seems to only get worse the more time you spend together. Draco would become extremely possessive, to an extend where someone else looking at you for longer than a few second would send Draco into an ugly tantrum, shouting accusations and threats at everyone around

That leads to thus little number of friends you had reducing to absolute zero - them being too afraid or simply sick of Draco and his constant blackmailing and threats, leaving you all alone in his clutches. Being friends with you becomes simply too dangerous for others

He’ll follow you everywhere. Wherever you are, it seems like Draco and his little squad is always a few meters afar, watching you closely. It gets even worse once you two are ‘dating’ - Draco is like a chewing gum stuck in your hair - impossible to get rid of. You do your homework - he’s right by your side, flipping the pages of your book over when you ask. You’re getting ready to take a shower - he’s already shirtless and undoing his pants “Don’t you care about saving water and environment? Y/n, penguins are dying!”

Constantly touches you. And if you don’t like it or feel uncomfortable with his touch - too bad, Draco doesn’t care. “Darling, don’t fucking resist me. You’re only making it worse for yourself” And that’s true, it’s better to have contended and happy Draco snuggled into you rather than a furious and annoyed one, tightly wrapping his huge hand around your neck

His mood swings are just something. One moment he may be all cuddly and snuggly, looking at you like a lovesick puppy, and the other - he’s frowning and snarling insults, words are pure poison. And just five minutes later he crawls back with the saddest expression on his face, “Sorry, I got really upset, I thought you were thinking about that scumbag Potter again🥺👉🏻👈🏻” - “Draco, how the fuck can you know what I was thinking about?!”

He’d never physically hurt you because, well, Draco is a pussy. The maximum is pressing you against the wall with his hand around your throat, not choking but just holding you in place while glaring down at your smaller form. All the damage that he causes is mostly emotional. You’d definitely develop paranoia because of his constant stalking, feeling as if even walls have eyes and ears, intently watching your every move. Constant anxiety caused by Draco’s harsh words and treatment, may lead to deep depression

From the good things - he’s really eager to please you. As I said - whatever you want - you get, even if that’s not a material thing. Fame, power, influence - all of that is real and you can get it easily by simply being with him. But the more Draco gives you, the more demanding he gets - everything has its price. At first simple affection will be the greatest repay, but the older you both get - the more sexual turn it all gets

Draco would go absolutely insane during the summer break. He’ll be writing you a few times a day, demanding an answer from you containing a detailed description of your day, who you were talking to and all the conversations themselves. He’d defo get a pair of those double ended mirrors for you two (Wizarding FaceTime lmao) so he can see your beautiful face and hear that lovely voice of yours. And oh, don’t you dare not responding to his tenth call of a day - it’ll end up in a biggest tantrum

His parents noticing Draco’s obsession way too late, not being able to fix nor influence son’s unhealthy behavior. Narcissa tries to reason with her son, cool his eagerness and patroon a bit down, for the sake of both him and you. But Draco sees that as a betrayal, his twisted mind turning it into his family trying to turn you against him, to take you away from him. Now he sees it all - he doesn’t need their approval nor their blessing, he’ll have it his way anyways. It ends with Draco basically forcing marriage upon you, doing what he’s been longing for all these years - claiming you as his, so that no one could ever doubt the special bound you two have

After all, you two were always meant to be

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Writers live off feedback!💖

[r0ttenhearts]

goodbye, old friend

scaramouche x childhood friend! reader

sypnosis: the memories of your childhood spent with scaramouche

warnings; angst, no comfort, mean scara, arguments, abandonment

WINTER

“what are you doing, (y/n)? stop acting like such a child!” scaramouche’s cold, pink cheeks puffed out as he smacked your hands, the cold snow falling from your gloved hands. the bottom of your lip jut out as small tears started to well up in your eyes.

“stop crying! grow up (y/n)! you’re not a baby.” scaramouche’s harsh words set off your wailing. sucking in his teeth, scaramouche set his cold hands into the snow. a small ball was formed before he set it in your hands, your crying ceasing momentarily. “y-you’re so mean to me, scara.” you sniffled out.

“i just don’t want you to be childish.” he muttered, his hand resting on the top of your head. scaramouche was only a year older than you, 13. but he acted as if he knew it all. his clear influence on you was being shown as you began trading juice boxes for flavored water, stuffed animals being hidden away in your closet when you knew he’d be over for a visit.

a small smile graced your face before cold ice hit scaramouche’s face. a startled yelp left scaramouche’s lips, your giggles following suit before he chased you in the snow. small footsteps following each other, imprinted in the cold white powder.

SPRING

“this feels so weird, scara.” you whispered to him as you both sat on your bedroom floor. the purpled haired boy sat across from you, his cheeks a slight red as he leaned in slowly. “this was your idea, (y/n). or do you want to back out?” the mocking tone in his voice was evident, a smirk across his lips with a shake of your head. “no! i don’t want.. anyone else to have this first with you, scara.”

“oh? so, you want all of my firsts?”

“shut up! that’s not what i meant!”

with your flustered, babbling self you hadn’t noticed scaramouche slowly inching towards you until his lips met yours. it was a quick, gentle kiss. enough to send scaramouche reeling backwards immediately with a choked out “are you happy now?”

a quiet yes left your lips, a small smile on your face. you had taken something he would always remember. his first kiss. his first kiss was with a girl he claimed to not be fond of, but you knew how much you meant to him. he wouldn’t spend every afternoon in your room with you if you never meant much to him. you knew that as well as he did.

that quiet afternoon was spent with you both side by side, a happy revelation that you had gotten what you had always wished for. losing your first kiss to scara at 14.

SUMMER

“you don’t mean it, scara.”

“oh but i do, (y/n). i don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

hot tears burned your eyes, it couldn’t be true. he wasn’t doing this to you, not again. the disinterested look across his features wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. it seemed that all he had for you lately was distaste. the past year and a half had been a whirlwind of drama and heartbreak between you two. you had ended up claiming more of his firsts, just like he teased you about.

but it seemed that you had paid a price for every little moment you would forever remember. his cruelty seemed to grow month by month. scaramouche was no longer interested in spending afternoons with you, but with other girls he would deem as interesting for a month. in return, he’d ignore you.

that was until he came back after a nasty breakup. he seemed to care more for this girl than he had for the others, as he usually was in your arms within a month. retelling the stories of how much lacking those girls had been in comparison to you.

but this time was different. his scowl wasn’t only showing his arrogance, but his anger.

“you promised me, scara!” a shared promised on a hot summer night in your backyard. a promise to not go back to the ignoring and neglect, a promise to stay. for good.

“i was lying! are you really still that dumb, (y/n)? i never wanted or needed you. you were just a placeholder until i found other girls. but you knew that, didn’t you? you just didn’t want to believe it.”

you shook your head, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks. “please, don’t do this scara. what about us? what about our friendship? i don’t want to know a life without you.”

“i do. don’t call me anymore.”

you would never forget the tears that would escape your eyes. your heart was aching for the remaining hope for things to go back to what once was. but the rest was seething, angry that you believed him time and time again. angry for his false promises.

“if you go through with this, i’ll never forgive you.”

“so be it.”

AUTUMN

a familiar scarf was wrapped around scaramouche’s neck. a dark purple, almost black thick scarf was hiding his mouth. the same scarf you had gifted him years ago on his birthday. even with the presence of the scarf, it didn’t damped the feelings that welled up in your chest. the hurt, the anger.

“well, did you need something?” you spoke flatly, shopping bags in your grip. christmas was coming up and you had started your shopping a month early. what you hadn’t accounted for was running into scaramouche. his new blonde girlfriend in a candle store nearby, unaware of the tension between you both.

“i..” his mouth opened and closed, almost like a fish gasping for air. you huffed impatiently, the gnawing anxious feeling swallowing your chest. “if there’s nothing then i’ll be on my way.” you mumbled curtly, taking a step to the side of scaramouche. his pale hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, keeping you in place.

“i’m sorry, (y/n).” he whispered, loud enough only for you to hear. the great egoistical scaramouche was apologizing to you?

“i’m sorry for, everything.” he added in a hushed whisper.

“it’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”

you two weren’t kids anymore. this wasn’t a small thing to smile widely and take his hand again, like you once did. it was a betrayal. one that cut you deeply like a knife that was never wedged out from your heart. that pain stayed with you, that resentment. the resentment for a boy you once loved in your younger years.

“i don’t expect you to forgive me, but i want you to know that i’m sorry.” there was a slight desperation in his voice, his eyes scanning yours for a hint of what he felt so deeply when he looked at you. but you wouldn’t meet his eyes, you hadn’t since you noticed him looking at you.

you shook your head, your wrist gently being let go from his grip. you left him standing there, wondering if things could have played out differently if he hadn’t left you that summer night. watching your back slowly disappear from view felt like a familiar memory. but this time he wouldn’t expect to see you again. you were older, after all. he still remembered the promise he had broken earlier in the year. a promise to apply to the same college and share a dorm together.

your hesitance at the time bothered him, but now that he was looking back, you were right to hesitate in agreeing to it. it was a promise made to him, after all. and he had never kept a good record of keeping his promises to you. but you always forgave him anyway.

now it was college application season, you both turned in different applications to colleges in complete opposite regions. scaramouche wanted to go to sumeru, and you fontaine. he still had the list of furniture you both had planned to buy for your shared dorm. it still laid jotted down in his notepad that he kept in his bag.

it felt bittersweet to flip past it whenever he had to scribble down something, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear it out. your messy handwriting on that piece of paper was the only thing he had left of what once was a close friendship.

WINTER

the freezing cold temperatures outdoors helped for a lighter mood that christmas morning. the warmth from your parents home was inviting as you opened gifts from your family and friends.

but after all the wrapping paper was torn off boxes and cardboard, there still lay one gift for you. it resided in your parents mailbox, an early morning drop off from scaramouche himself. a letter wishing you happy holidays and tickets to an aquarium you had planned to go with him, only for him to ditch you on the day of, were nestled safely inside the card.

a six year friendship coming to a close, for good this time.

taglist: @samarill @whorerificstuff @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @ayameei @aqualesha @msdevilis @linkookie197 @beriiov @xiaonscaraswife @foxlover1144 @gh0sts0up @darliingyu @magica-ren n @scara6 @Maxineslair

[violetgroans]

So, the Luigi Mangione situation has been consuming my thoughts for days. Honestly, I’m surprised to see even those who typically consume right-wing media starting to connect the dots.

Kyle Rittenhouse was hailed as an “American patriot” and a “hero” by right-wing media like Fox and co, not because they’re anti-establishment but because they blindly support the establishment. After his acquittal, conservative media framed his actions as self-defence, the ultimate embodiment of “law and order.” But let’s be honest—this wasn’t about justice or morality. It was about doubling down on a toxic gun culture, one that upholds violence as a virtue when it aligns with their politics.

Take Donald Trump, for example. He’s their golden boy, the so-called saviour of the working class, but what did he actually do for anyone struggling to make ends meet? He gave billionaires a massive tax break, slashing corporate rates to 21% and leaving crumbs for everyone else. Universal healthcare? Forget it. Trump spent years trying to dismantle the Affordable Care Act without even pretending to offer an alternative. And wages? They stagnated while he bragged about a booming economy. He couldn’t stop talking about low petrol prices—as if that fixes lives ruined by medical debt or the soaring cost of living. Meanwhile, his obsession with fracking wasn’t about energy independence; it was about making oil companies richer.

Trump’s entire existence is proof that capitalism rewards incompetence if you’re born into the right family. He’s failed at business after business, but the money and connections always find their way back to him, bringing power along for the ride.

Now compare that to someone like Luigi Mangione. Here’s a guy from a privileged background—an Ivy League graduate, no less—who allegedly assassinated UnitedHealthcare’s CEO, Brian Thompson. And why? Because Mangione had seen enough of the system Thompson profited from: a healthcare industry that lets people die while executives rake in bonuses. Mangione reportedly left behind a manifesto condemning health insurance companies for putting profits over people. Even Daily Mail readers, who’d normally back the establishment, are expressing sympathy for him and calling out billionaires. When even the most propagandised audiences are waking up, you know something’s wrong.

This isn’t complicated: poverty kills. Debt kills. And billionaires like Thompson—who faced criticism for policies that punished patients seeking emergency care—are perfectly comfortable profiting off that suffering. They sit in their towers, insulated from the consequences of the system they exploit, while working-class people are forced to choose between survival and dignity.

What billionaires should really fear is us realising we’ve been played. For decades, they’ve worked to convince us our biggest threats are each other—minorities, immigrants, anyone but them—when they’re the ones pulling the strings. Without our labour and endless, soul-crushing consumption, they’re nothing.

Do I feel bad for a billionaire who’s scared? Not in the slightest. They don’t know fear the way we do. They don’t have to worry about eviction notices or medical bills. They’ve convinced us their success is aspirational, but it’s all a con—a rigged game that keeps them on top no matter what.

I hope the Luigi Mangione case sparks a backlash they can’t ignore. I hope it forces people to confront how deeply this system has failed us. The media will try to spin it, of course. They’re already working to humanise people like Thompson, men who built their careers on denying claims and leaving sick people to fend for themselves. Meanwhile, these same journalists won’t write about kids being pushed into poverty or the way empathy disappears when a rapist gets elected to office. It’s so absurd it feels like a cruel joke—like we’re being manipulated for laughs as reason abandons our collective psyche.

People have turned this murder into a meme, and they’re being condemned for it. But billionaires, propped up by the likes of Murdoch, have relied on our desensitisation for decades to amass wealth and control political narratives. The internet makes that harder for them now, and they know it.

And people are tired. We misdirect our anger into the wrong places, often at each other, and can you blame us? What have protests actually accomplished lately? Millions marched for Palestine—one of the largest demonstrations in recent memory—but did it stop the US or UK from backing Netanyahu? Of course not.

So where do they think all this frustration is going to go? Because one day, it’s going to boil over—and no amount of money or media spin will protect them.

[soaps-mohawk]

that soapprice reblog omg... it literally inspired me to send an ask bc i was thinking about it and then saw it as a sign

this is random but what do you think are big things that the boys are into? even though it's super common i'm a total sucker for price being called daddy, and i remember the joke he made about it earlier in the series and i was 🤭🤭 the whole time, or also as mentioned in the fic i'm a big fan of soap and his hair being pulled

urgh soapprice soapprice soapprice!!! they're such an underrated pairing, and they're literally my favourite characters ☹️ (and graves but we don't talk about that)

anyways pook, how are you?? i hope all is well!!

- 🪐

Soapprice is such an underrated pairing. I feel like it was more popular in the fandom whith the OGs, but it definitely has been neglected with the reboots. They're all just so special to me though 🥺

Hmm are we talking like kinks here? That's what I'm going with.

I think Price does enjoy being called daddy, though I don't see him as being the type to ask you to say it. He's into it, but he wants you to say it first on your own. He's definitely more dominant, but I could see him giving over control every so often. Like if a mission goes wrong or something happens he doesn't want to be in control anymore for a while. I could also see him being into bondage/shibari. He likes the trust you have to have in each other and he also just likes seeing you tied up. Definitely a brat tamer. He'll bend you over his knee and spank you if you misbehave. Edges you if you're especially naughty.

Johnny likes having his hair pulled, that's a given. Please degrade him. Step on him, call him a naughty boy. He also has a huge praise kink. Giving, receiving, he loves it. He's definitely the most likely to experiment. You want to try something? He's down. He's not about to be out-kinked because that man is super competitive. He's definitely into role play. Dressing up, acting out scenes. All of it. He's definitely made you play hostage so he can "rescue" you and then get thanked for saving you 😉 I could also see him being an exhibitionist. If his partner is okay with it, he'll definitely let people watch him blow their back out. His neighbors hate him lol.

Kyle, my sweet baby boy Kyle. We all know he's a munch. Sit on his face and let him eat your pussy until you can't hold yourself up. He'll just lay you on your back and continue. Will wake you up with his head between your legs if you give him permission. Gets off by giving you pleasure. He also likely has a praise kink. Tell him how pretty he is and he'll be putty in your hands. He'll blindfold you and edge you. He loves the way your legs shake and you beg for release. He'd probably be into overstimulation, for both of you as well. Please, for the love of all things holy peg him. Will also bend you over his knee and spank you if you ask him. I feel like he'd be willing to try more extreme things if you want to, but I don't think he'd be quite as enthusiastic about it as Johnny. Aftercare king. That's self explanatory.

Simon, contrary to popular belief, I don't see being much into kinks. I think it takes so long for him to get to the point just to be naked with you, the last thing he'd want is to take any risks. He causes enough pain in his day to day life that he just wants to fall into your arms and be held. Is cuddling a kink? If so then that's his kink lol. He might get rough with you in bed if you ask him, once that trust has been established, but you're definitely going to have to reassure him for hours after that you're alright. I think if you're together with him long enough, and that trust has been well established, you might be able to convince him to try some softer things, but he's definitely checking in and making sure you're alright and you're comfortable constantly. Consent is his kink is the energy he gives off.

[buterccup]

Could you perhaps write trans!male reader getting some validation from the 141? Platonic or nah, I just need the validation because the transition is so far away from me it hurts :(((((((

I live for your writing and it helps with the gender affirmation

Of course! I understand how hard it can be with validation and dysphoria so I hope this helps you and thank you so much mate^-^

I may have added some things that happened to me too- I hope you don't mind!

He will always be accepted

Summary: You were having a hard time with your body and kept it to yourself for a while leaving your team unaware until they finally catch on and give you all the validation you deserve and assure you, even without having the operation yet that you are a man. And they will always see you as one and be there to support you.

Warnings: A little bit angsty, dysphoria, trans!Male reader, he/him pronouns, fluff, comfort at the end, short

Character(s): Task force 141 x Trans! Reader

FEM ALIGNED DNI

It was a normal day back at base, well as normal as it can be for the task force. Price was looking over some paperwork, and Ghost and Soap talking about something while Gaz was talking to you. Everyone seemed to be doing well. Apart from you.

The way you have been feeling has been going on for a while already but never told your boys about it. Not finding the right time to tell them. But at this point, they could all tell something was up with you. You were just silently nodding or letting out hums most of the time and when someone commented about your body, good or bad, you would just strain a smile and nod to whatever they said, maybe say an awkward 'Yeah..' or 'oh' here and there but not as much as you normally would.

Gaz would just give you a soft smile before looking back at the other guys, wondering if he should bring up why you were so quiet to be met with Price looking at him with a stern look that said 'Do it you numpty'

"So..." Gaz then started, the awkward dragging of the word making you focus on him, a soft and comforting look on his face as he leaned closer to you, "We started to notice that you weren't...acting yourself. You do know you can tell us anything."

That's when the room went quiet for a while, the shuffling of Price's papers and the moving of Ghost and Soap being the only sounds that could be heard. They were ready to listen to your every worry and insecurity.

And if you were going to be painfully honest it made you tear up. Of course, they always helped you whenever they could especially when it was because of dysphoria but it always made you feel so happy when they did listen to you.

"Well...it's just knowing how far the transition is away from right now is just making me feel..." You started as Price placed the paperwork down to listen to you properly. "It just made me feel like I wasn't enough like I wasn't doing enough. What I'm trying to say it that I feel hopeless..."

"Aw...mate, I can't imagine how hard it is for you right now." Gaz says as he places a hand on yours and rubbed it gently.

"Why don't you come over here real quick." Soap then said, beckoning you with his hand to come over to the couch next to him, Ghost and Price with Gaz. Which you didn't hesitate to do. You trusted him. You trusted all of them.

"I know things may be hard for you right now but remember, operation or no operation, you will always be a man to us. It will never stop us from calling you what you want to be called or how you want to be seen." Soap said, his voice overflowing with comfort and confidence in what he was saying as he placed his hands on your shoulders as Gaz sat down near by on a chair.

"If you take it this way," Ghost then starts making your glossy eyes look over to him, "If you saw Price for example, with a... bun-"

"A man bun??"

"Shut up, I'm making a point- As I was saying, if Price had a man bun, you would never call him she or her, not unless he told you specifically would you?" he then continued, not waiting for you to respond since he knew you. "Exactly, of course having the surgery will help you a lot but whatever body you have at the moment will never stop us from calling you what you want us to. And it will never stop you from who you want to be."

"Plus, we all know how strong you are kiddo, we know you can stay strong until then, and if not we can always have talks like this." Price's voice then said in a fatherly tone as he gave you a smile. "Don't forget how proud we are at how far you've gotten as well [name]." Gaz's voice then pops up, even if you weren't looking at him you could see the warm smile he had on his face.

All of their words felt as if they were giving you a massive bear hug but for your heart and you could help but cry. Even a little bit.

"Thanks...Thank you so much."

"Anytime [Name]."

Requests: Open

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

ᴄᴏᴡɢɪʀʟ

Task Force 141 + fem! reader

Oh I just know that Kyle and Soap would catch a little crush. And they probably wouldn’t even try to hide it😅 Price is the obviously the overprotective dad and tells them to shush while Simon is acting like it’s not funny or cool at all… but we all know this man is feeling something.. At least a little bit.

This was actually supposed to be a x gn! reader but the title destroys it and I couldn’t find a better one. I‘M SORRY😭

I LOVE THIS IDEA. I just know I‘m gonna have so much fun writing this! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy<33🩷💝💘💖

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It was a night out after a complicated mission. Price suggested to go to that local bar together and everyone agreed. Well, expect Simon Ghost but you forced him to come with you.

As soon as you entered the bar, you saw a Mechanical bull in the corner of the bar

"If you manage to stay longer than 15 seconds on that bull, all your drinks are on me then" soap dares you with a challenging grin.

"Bet." you both shake hands and make your way to the machine.

You make yourself comfortable on it and it slowly starts.

Let’s say the boys were not expecting that. You were griding on that bull and you definitely looked good. You were laughing causing everyone to laugh too. Simon let out a chuckle but only loud enough for only to him to hear it.

After 15 seconds of desperate to stay on that bull for those free drinks, you manage to stop and walk back to the group.

"Damn, Y/N! Didn’t know you had this in you" kyle remarks causing you to laugh. "What can I say? I‘m a super talented person" you reply and turn to soap. "So, Johnny. Free drinks, aye?"

Soap laughs and buys you drinks. "You were WILD. How the fuck can you even move like that?" Johnny is fascinated and Kyle is invested in how you did that. Both if them clearly caught a little crush on you and they didn’t even try to hide it.

As both of them were bombing you with questions, Ghost sat there, not saying anything and just swallowing down his drink like it’s water. But deep down, he was also fascinated from earlier.

"Okay now you two. Stop with the questions" John, being the protective dad of the group, says as soon as he realized that they won’t stop questioning you and just search for a conversation with you.

Kyle was tipsy but you and Johnny were definitely drunk since you both started a new challenge without letting papa John know. You both ended up being super drunk and started to laugh about everything.

But nevertheless, you won the challenge but the price was you not being able to walk properly.

Simon picked you up in bridal style and said he will drop you off at your house, while John took Kyle and Johnny home.

Simon lived 15 minutes away from you while the others had a longer distance.

You kept talking about random stuff and Simon just listend to you.

As he tucked you in your bed, he made sure to leave a glass of water and pain killers on your night stand because as soon as you wake up, your head is definitely gonna kill you. He also left a little note with a skull on it and left your home, after making sure you were okay.

[8-rae-rae-8]

Part 2 for Riley

This one’s a long one,,,I’m thinking of putting my rambles up on A03 as well 👉👈

Cw: minor violence, swearing , timeouts

Riley is a whole different story. Riley acts more like a feral stray. His accent thick as he swears and threatens to put a bullet through anyone who tries to come near him. His heckles are up and he isn’t gonna listen without being restrained.

He lands a good punch on Soap and nearly breaks Gaz’s wrist when they try to hold him down. Price sees past the aggression and empty threats and sees a very frightened, confused little boy. Who’s currently on fight or flight. He decides to test a theory;

“Kyle. Soap. Get to medical. I’ll handle it.”

Gaz and Soap are hesitant to let go of Riley, who’s shouting obscenities and threatening to gut them. They turn to look at price, doubtful but shrink at the stern, eyebrow raise they get in return. Oh. Okay, yep! Let’s get to medical. Now.

They quickly let go of Riley and before he sink his metaphorical claws into them again, they are out the door with a slam. Riley turns his eyes to John, snarling behind the balaclava

“What are you gonna fuckin’ do, huh ya old git?!” Riley snarls, backing into the left corner as price steps forward. “Come any closer an’ I’ll fucking guy you like a fucking fi-”

“That’s enough, Simon.” Price cuts off, voice steady and stern…the tone reminds him of Bubba’s scolding’s

Riley shrinks at that. Out of all the things he expected: he didn’t expect a fucking scolding. He scoffs weakly.

“O-Or fucking what? You’ll put me in timeout?” He spits out. “I’d like to see you try, you old far-“

In a second he goes from standing to being gently pushed down into the swivel chair that he had backed into. He goes to stand up but gentle hands are placed on his knees to stop him.

He shrinks more when Price kneels down to his eye Level.

“Simon, How you acted just now was very naughty.” Price starts with a firm tone. He knows he’s onto something when he sees a hint of glassiness in the Ghost’s eyes.

“You do not hit and shout at others when you’re upset. You talk things out like a big boy.” He adjusts his grip when he feels Riley try wriggle out again “I want you to sit here for 5 minutes and think about your actions.”

When Price stands Riley is trying to stammer out a weak rebuttal

“T-The fuck?! You have to be taking the pis-“

Riley hates the squeak he lets out when Price simply turns the chair around and makes the stroppy lieutenant face corner. Riley’s heart drops to his stomach when he hears Price walk away and sit at the desk.

“No more talking. Just sit and think, son.”

That’s all price says and Riley huffs. He should just get up and break this old prick’s nose. But he feels eyes burning in the back of his head. So he just huffs, crosses his arms and stares at the stupid corner. Hoping to burn a hole into it.

Like clockwork, Riley’s walls begin to crumble. At the 1 minute 30 second mark, he kicks a little and whines. At 2, he punches the wall and throws his balaclava off in a huff. At 3, Price heard the distinctive sniffles he'd been waiting for. At 4 minutes 50 seconds, he hears the first heart breaking sob that gets him to stand up.

He’s usually strict on timeouts and finishing the sentence. But his caregiver instincts tell him this little one needs some serious comfort.

He picks up Riley’s balaclava, he has an idea of what the boy looks like but he wants to earn the trust. Not take it. He rubs the boys back and offers his balaclava back.

“C’mon son. It’s over. You wanna put your mask on and have a chat?”

To his surprise, Riley shakes his head and turns around. Big glassy, teary eyes stare up at him. Small scars and freckles litter the small one’s flushed face. Two deep scars cross his forehead and another across his nose.

Before price can say anything more, Riley hiccups, grabbing onto Price’s trousers

“M-M sowwy!!” Riley sobs and hiccups “I-I miss Bubba! ‘M scared! Didn mean t-to hit!”

Price can never handle seeing his youngest boy so upset and seeing Riley so worked is no exception. He kneels down and pulls to distressed little into a tight hug.

“I know, I know it’s okay, sweetheart.” He coos, rubbing circles into the little shaking back “You must be so scared, huh?” He feels a nod in his shoulder. “Poor thing, you just want you Bubba, huh?” Another nod in confirmation.

“I’ll do everything I can to get you back to Bubba” price promises. “‘Ice promise?” Riley parrots back in a voice so soft, Price barely heard it.

“Pinky promise, son.” He pats his back again, feeling the little one melt more. “In the meantime however…would you like me to take care of you?” He gets a quick nod in consent. “That’s a good, Brave lad. C’mon up then. Let’s get you out of those icky clothes, yeah?”

He gets a weak “mhm.” But Riley is too deep to walk properly, his knees buckle when he stands and he starts to go non verbal.

Price usually can’t pick up Simon. But Riley is lean and light in comparison. He has no trouble scooping up the little one and taking him back to his room.

Price finds it slightly endearing how Riley is engulfed in Simon’s onesie. But has to grab a pair of medium sweatpants for Riley. Thankfully, Price is able to find an unused pacifier for Riley to use as well.

At Riley’s insistence, they go to visit medical. Where Gaz and Soap are being watched and comforted by Konig. (The stress of losing their little brother, Simon and getting hurt causes them to slip too)

At a soft knock, Price comes into with a very shy, remorseful Riley in his arms. “Hey boys…I got a little one here who has something important to say.”

Riley sniffles again, feeling genuine remorse for hurting Price’s other boys. At a gentle rock and pat over his padded bum. Riley speaks up

“M sowwy for hitting Kyle an’ Foap..” Kyle snickers at ‘foap’ but a gentle clearing of the throat from Price pulls him back “…I was scared an’ Big me isn’t good wif words…” Riley hides back into Price’s shoulder, whining when he hears footsteps. A gentle hand cards through his messy black hair.

It’s ’Foap’ with Kyle behind him both with grins on their faces. “It’s no sweat, Bug! Si Si’s the same!” Soap explains “he ain’t good with words! Non of us are, really!” Soap says proudly which earns a fond sigh and eye roll from Price.

Kyle reaches over and rubs Riley’s shoulder “it’s okay, being so far away from your pa is probably terrifying…I had to get stitches once without pa..It wasn’t my best moment.” Kyle admits sheepishly.

There’s a few brief seconds of comfortable silence before Soap speaks up “Hey! Do’ya wanna play cars with Kyle, me an’ Kong? Pops gots us some new cars ‘cause I got a full line of stickers on my chart-“

As Soap babbles excitedly with his new potential playmate, Riley looks up at Price with an uncertain look. Price smiles and nods.

They all go back to the rec room. Price on the couch as he watches Soap, Kyle, Konig and Riley (who is sitting on Konig’s lap, holding the matchbox cars he was handed with a lot of care) play on the floor.

Price has no clue on how to reunite the little one with his Bubba and no clue how to get his Simon back. But he won’t eat or sleep until he figures it out.

AIFNFUDNDKALOEFH

AUGHAOYGGHA

CLAWING AT THE WALLS EATING THE WALLS

I love the fight he gives!!! That feels so very HIM!!!

THE CARS TOO THATS SO CUTE

Begging you begging you to put them on AO3??? It's so good??!(?8?)94-472(

[lets-try-some-writing]

I was reading the latest post on Optimus being the sparkling of Unicron and how the team reacted to it, and I can't help but think that there's probably going to be some kind of catalyst that causes the rest of Team Prime to notice how they're acting towards Optimus is hurting him. As for what that catalyst is, I have a vague idea of Optimus trying to bottle up the loneliness only for it to explode out at some point, but you can easily do something else. It's probably just me liking this AU and want to see what else goes with it.

(And if you wish to delete this ask, then go right ahead.)

I would never delete such an ask. I only tend to get rid of the ones that are too indecipherable to work with or ones that have left me with no motivation or room to be creative. With that said, here it is, the conclusion to all the angst with my boy. Previous post here.

Family

For months he fought for his Autobots as an exile, taking every hit and enduring the pain and solitude with grace. But with time Optimus began to break. Wounds piled up, wearing him down and never fully repairing due to only basic medical treatment on Optimus's part. His mental state began to collapse after being separated from his team for so long and not even having the comfort of his bond with Bumblebee to rely upon. And while Unicron's loving whispers and the Matrix were enough to keep him from fully falling to depression and wrath, it only held for so long. Everything his creator did for him and the emotional dampening effects of the Matrix were like Band-Aids on a stab wound. It was not enough.

He grew desperate for interaction, so much so that he threw himself into battle with reckless abandon. He wanted to be seen, to be spoken to, to have someone, anyone recognize his existence aside from his father. And for his desire he paid the price.

After a particularly fierce battle, Optimus took a hit to the side so bad that his internals were left exposed. He wanted to fall to the ground in agony once the pain hit him, but he endured until the team had safely done what was required. Then as they watched with wide optics, he choked back a scream and limped away, holding his internals in place with a servo as he did so. Never more in his life did he desire to have Ratchet berate him for his recklessness and repair him, running countless diagnostics and giving him a good pinch for his foolishness. As he dragged himself back to his trailer and leaned against it feeling nothing but torment, he wished that he was back at base, even the cold unfeeling one he had grown used to months prior. Anything but this solitude...

Optimus couldn't die in his state, not while he partially sustained himself off the power of his father. But energon loss made him delirious and all the Matrix could do was try to keep him conscious so he wouldn't fall into stasis and be left totally exposed. Unicron could sense his creation growing weaker, especially as Optimus began muttering things about being tired, lonely, or in pain. It wasn't like him, and it frightened the chaos god to see his little one in such a state. And so he did what he thought was best, he gathered up an avatar and went to the only bots on the planet least likely to blast Optimus to bits. He went to the Autobots.

Taking on the general appearance of Optimus to garner their attention, Unicron manifested where Arcee and Bulkhead were on patrol. Unicron's avatar was mostly composed of energy, not too dissimilar to Optimus's true form. He was impossible to miss, and Arcee and Bulkhead reacted as he expected. They raised their blasters in fear of his aura and prepared to flee. Unicron did not approach, and despite having a great many harsh words he would have liked to have said, he couldn't speak with his power so restrained. So instead he gestured for the two Autobots to follow him, hoping they might let go of their fear and come aid his creation.

Arcee: Optimus! What do you want!?

Unicron: *gesturing toward Optimus's general location*

Bulkhead: Hey, Prime. You good?

Unicron: *continues to gesture, looking between them and Optimus's location*

Arcee: ... You want us to follow you?

Unicron: *nods and begins walking*

It took a moment and Unicron stopping twice to usher them onward to get Bulkhead and Arcee to follow. But when they finally did, Unicron walked with them for hours upon hours in silence. They tried asking him questions, demanding to know his purposes, but Unicron in Optimus's image never replied. He simply walked on. And when the two Autobots threatened to leave, Unicron stopped and gestured more animatedly, pointing off into the distance. It took some extra convincing, but after having some sort of conversation with those back at base, they continued to follow.

Then nearly twelve hours of walking later, Unicron halted and pointed to them, and then off to where Optimus's trailer was parked. Optimus was not in view, but the energon around the area was, and it roused Arcee and Bulkhead's interest and suspicion. The chaos god did not take another step forward and stood around fifty feet back as the Autobots moved forward carefully, wary of a trap. They periodically looked back toward him, but Unicron did not so much as twitch as they began scouting the area.

By the time they finally found Optimus bleeding out against his trailer, his cloak soaked in energon and his optics flickering from his weakness, Unicron's avatar was gone. Arcee and Bulkhead were spooked, more so than they would ever care to admit. But they wasted no time calling for backup upon seeing Optimus's state. It did not take long at all for Ratchet and Bumblebee to arrive, both shocked beyond words upon seeing Optimus delirious and injured to the point of hardly being aware.

Ratchet: Optimus! Look at me! I need you to look at me!

Optimus: *delirious as pit* Rat...chet?

Ratchet: That's right, look at me. I need you to tell me what happened here.

Optimus: You... are here?

Ratchet: *gazing at the literal hole in Optimus's side* Yes, we all are. Now please, talk to me. How did you get hurt.

Optimus: Blaster... hit...

Ratchet: I don't know how in Primus's name you are still alive, but I am going to repair you. Everything will be alright.

Optimus: I... missed... you... all.

Ratchet: ...

Ratchet: We missed you too Optimus.

The team barely held themselves together as they dragged Optimus back to base and Ratchet began working on the great many injuries the Prime had accumulated. Guilt hit the entire team like a fright train as they looked over Optimus and listened to his barely understandable muttering about being happy to see them again. Arcee felt horrible, especially after Optimus smiled at her and wiped her tears away when she came to take a look at him as he lay resting on the medical berth. How had she ever seen Optimus as a monster? How could she have shunned him after everything he did for her? Even after being hurt by her over and over again, he still showed her love, and that broke any reservations Arcee might have had left. She ended up muttering endless apologies to Optimus as he lay there and continued to give her comforting touches, his smile ever present and not at all tainted with anger or disgust.

Bulkhead and Wheeljack came to Optimus a little later after Arcee had gone to cry herself into recharge from mixed relief and guilt. They stood around awkwardly for a long while until Optimus, still very much delirious from medicine given to him by Ratchet and energon loss, at last noticed them. The Prime smiled kindly and gave both their servos a reassuring squeeze. He looked overjoyed just to see them, and that alone was enough to make both wreckers regret ever agreeing to have him sent away. They ended up sitting and talking with Optimus for an hour or so, mainly listening to the Prime ramble about how great it was to see them again. It broke their sparks a little to see him so fragging pleased just to be in their presence, and ultimately they told Optimus they were sorry, earning them wide smiles and enthusiastic forgiveness. They walked away feeling regretful beyond words.

The children were enthusiastic and elated at having Optimus back and clambered onto his frame to hug him the moment Ratchet's back was turned. Optimus was equally thrilled and his frame rumbled in joy as the children got onto his chassis and made their best attempts to give cuddle up against him. There were a few tears involved on the children's parts as the younger two of the duo made their grief at him having been gone so long clear. The Prime simply showered them in affection in response, rumbling his frame and running gentle digits along their backs. They left him contented and happy, just glad to have their Prime back.

Ratchet on the other hand could hardly look at Optimus after what he had done. He felt like the worst mech to ever walk the earth and refused to meet Optimus's gaze as he patched the Prime up. However eventually as he tried to walk away and go sulk, Optimus grabbed his arm and looked to him pleadingly, his arms held open, asking for a hug. And so not having the spark to say no, Ratchet obliged and gave in, earning a contented purr from Optimus in return. The medic then proceeded to get himself wrapped up in an odd cuddle which Optimus seemed loathe to end. For nearly two hours Optimus held Ratchet like a porcelain doll, as if afraid he might break as the Prime made all sorts of comments about how much he had missed his oldest friend. Ratchet left feeling happier knowing that Optimus did not hate him, but also deeply regretful of all he had done and the pain he had caused. After all, Optimus wouldn't be in such a state if he hadn't been so foolish...

Lastly there was Bumblebee who came to Optimus fully expecting to be met with coldness or anger. Instead the moment he came near and allowed his iron grip over his bond with Optimus to slacken, he was wrapped up in a loving embrace. Optimus had not cried when meeting with the others, but finally feeling his sparkling again filled a void Optimus had known but ignored. His tears flowed freely as he hummed the song he had sung Bee when he was small and gently rubbed between his doorwings. Bumblebee who had been playing the part of tough leader since Optimus's departure broke down into tears as well. Before long the father and son were singing together, reaffirming their bond and connecting again after so long apart. No words needed to be said, both understood each other and granted the other forgiveness without a second thought.

The team heard the song and found themselves comforted. It would be a long road to recovery for all of them. But if Optimus and Bumblebee could figure it out and express their love or each other so freely, the team had inkling of hope that they could repair the damage done to their relationships with Optimus too. And while it was left unspoken for a while, the team were also well aware that Optimus was loved by his creator. Unicron had taken the time to guide them to Optimus and had watched over and reassured him when they were not present. They were certain the chaos god had quite the grudge against them.

And they were right, as even after time passed and the wounds healed, Unicron made it his biggest priority in life to frag with whoever it was that had made his creation cry. The chaos god quickly took to being a minor nuisance when the team weren't doing important work. And surprisingly, it actually brought a bit of well needed comedic relief into their lives after all the drama.

[dufferpuffer]

Concept I don't want to forget: One of those time travel fics where Harry goes back in time to help Tom not become Voldemort. Basically: + Harry teaches DADA and Albus teaches Transfiguration. + Harry is at odds with Albus, wanting to take over 'watching over' Tom with his own methods - but Albus won't be pushed out. + Albus is obsessed with Harry, who is a suspicious enigma. It isn't the first time a younger man with a mysterious past and skills in dueling has stormed into his life... as worrying as it is captivating. + Tom gets two dads who are both very intense about him.

Dippet is like "Albus you can't be DADA teacher next year either - we need a Transfiguration teacher too badly" or whatever. Albus sad... he wants to do DADA... if only he wasn't multi-talented... :'^(

Some young adult man with messy black hair, scruffy beard, sparkling green eyes and a scar on his forehead enters the room. "We've hired Professor Harry Potter to fill the role - he has proven more than capable. I expect you to show him the ropes, Albus."

Harry has been 'traveling', apparently, between the wars... Gellert has also been traveling... not a member of the 'main' Pureblood Potter family, but Potter is a relatively common name... "Didn't go to Hogwarts, home-schooled - please show me around, Professor Dumbledore." Harry lies - but Albus notices he seems extremely comfortable trotting around the halls... Harry is extremely comfortable with high-difficulty dueling spells, even some Dark Magic - but average at everything else. A warrior...

Harry is DEDICATED to his goal: 'fix' Tom to stop him before he can do any damage. He has big sympathy for him and isn't really thinking of anything else. This leaves him being a bit cold, serious, focused, confident - lacking hesitation... dark, mysterious, handsome man.

For Harry, Albus is a means to an end. He does feel more comfortable with him than most - but this isn't HIS Albus. He will cozy up to him enough to ensure he can tag along to Tom Riddles orphanage.

Albus is a sharp man. He can tell something is off with this guy, nothing quite adds up... and he is hooked. He justifies it as being suspicious this has something to do with Grindelwald. He has a conspiracy wall - acts friendly, passive and charming and at the end of the day adds another pin to the board of "Who is Harry Potter? Where did he come from? What are his goals?"

Albus does his regular Orphanage routine - trying to calmly connect with this special boy, enamor him to the Power of magic but insist it is at the price of Responsibility - while also giving him freedom and trust to do things himself... ...but Harry came with him, agreeing to let him do most of the talking: but goes all 'Strict Parent' about it: "No, Tom - I think we should go around now and give back all these toys. Then we will take you to get your school supplies - No, Albus, we CAN'T let a young boy shop on his own." (Harry suggested the suit he wore. The one he compliments in HBP.)

Albus' 'keep an eye on someone' is incredibly hands-off. Harry knows what Tom will become and intends to step in and do differently, even if he has to drag a then-innocent boy by the ear. Honestly he is a bit too strict with it - but he is haunted by the deaths he causes in the future.

As Albus is HELLA suspicious about Professor Potter focusing on this only slightly odd boy... he inserts himself into Toms life more than he ever had before, while Harry is trying to push him out.

Basically Tom suddenly has two dads that are intense about him... but even more intense about eachother. Harry gets Albus as the friend he never quite managed to be in life. Albus is 'fixed' by a hot man who came into his life like a storm.

Something happens with the war idk haven't thought that far

Harry definitely stops Riddle from opening the Chamber alone. He was going to stop the death of Myrtle and the expulsion of Hagrid at any cost. He goes in with him and they have a bonding moment in Parseltongue they agree not to tell Albus about. When Albus finds out Harry can speak Snake and knew about the Chamber etc - ?????WHO IS THIS MAN????? is refreshed.

Harry is weird about romance because this is DUMBLEDORE... but its also NOT Dumbledore... understandably difficult to process.

Albus thinks Harry is weird about it because Homosexuality. Albus is weird about that, too - he pretends to not feel anything. Also last time Albus fell for a mysterious younger man adept at dueling who stormed into his life from a mysterious past it didn't go very well. His nose is crooked to remind himself how well it didn't go.

[ticklishraspberries]

Sick Puppy (Roman Roy)

Summary: Sometimes, people see right through Roman’s act and put him in his place. He’s into that, though. (This fic is not ship-specific...I guess it’s more of a character study, but like, in a horny way. And the other person involved is faceless, nameless...Not an OC or an x reader thing, just...An entity, I guess? Very different from my usual fics, I hope someone enjoys it. Warnings for smut (18+ only), degradtion/humiliation, tickling as a sexual act, and some light dub-con (in the begging-but-not-meaning-it way.)

He isn’t good at asking for what he wants. Yes, he can order employees around, whine about needing another beer or fancy watch, and initiate a hug when he needs one, at least, with Kendall and Shiv. But when it comes to intimacy, sex, something he should be so confident about…Well, his tongue gets entirely tied. He’s good at charming people with rehearsed smiles and bullshit buzzwords, but forming a connection, feeling comfortable…He’s shit at that.

Every once in a while, something arises, and he’s actually able to get it up for something other than his right hand. Sometimes, someone manages to read him like a fucking book, see past the cool facade, and discover the weird shit that really gets him going.

Those times are really the only time he enjoys sex. Just snapping his hips in time with the moans of some blonde chick isn’t really his thing. It’s boring, and way too vulnerable for such little payoff. But when it gets to the kinky stuff, that’s what interests him.

It starts as an accident, too-gentle touches in too-sensitive places, making him shiver and squirm before he’s properly tickled, pinned against a mattress, trying to smother his giggling in a pillow.

“You like this, don’t you? Fuckin’ perv.”

Roman swallows hard. His cheeks are flushed, and his pupils are dilated. The pillow is slowly pulled away from his face, and one look at his expression is enough to answer the questions.

“Never thought you’d get off on being helpless like this. All the fame, money, power…It doesn’t mean shit right now. I can do whatever I want to you. Does that scare you?”

The words rush through his veins and travel south, cock twitching in his well-tailored, high-priced pants. Something like a whimper leaves his mouth as he nods once, slowly.

“You’re one sick puppy.”

Yes, he is. He’s a fucking freak, a masochist who wants an outlet for all the stress. Wants to let someone else pull him around by the collar, tell him what to wear, what to eat, and where to go. Wants to be put in his place, made fun of. Being rich, famous, whatever…None of it makes him less susceptible to embarrassment, desperation, or ticklishness.

“Ask for it.”

The touch is gone as quickly as it had begun, and he whines like a spoiled child, being told ‘no’ for the first time. It’s all for show, really. He likes the way the words feel heavy in his mouth, how his stomach flips at the thought of spitting out that word, two syllables, starting with ‘T’ and ending with ‘E’.

Humiliation has always been the fastest way to Roman Roy’s heart—well, more like his cock. There isn’t room in his heart for anyone other than his siblings.

He stutters over his words, averting his gaze, like a shy schoolboy with a crush on his young, hot teacher. “Can you…I, I mean, could you…Please? Please, this is fuckin’ embarrassing, can you just fucking tickle me already?”

He bursts into a high-pitched fit of giggles the moment fingers touch his belly, squirming wildly. Despite his urge to escape, he holds his arms up over his own head, hands clasped together, muscles twitching with the urge to pull them down and protect his sensitive spots. But like a good, obedient dog, he stays in place.

“Good boy. It’s so cute when you beg.”

The praise makes his skin feel electrified, each sensation amplified. He’s good. He’s…cute? Hot, sexy, handsome, those are words he’d use. But cute…He can work with cute.

The buttons of his shirt are already undone, nothing underneath, but that’s not enough. It’s roughly tugged off his arms, and thrown to the side. It’s brand new, sitting crumpled on the floor. He doesn’t care.

He returns his arms to their raised position, feeling twice as exposed now. He feels like prey. It makes his pants feel tight. He’s not being touched, but he lets out a nervous chuckle.

“I’m not even touching you. Are you really that sensitive, hm?”

“Yes,” he replies, breathless. Admitting it feels euphoric and horrible all at once. It’s true, though. When he was younger, all his siblings had to do was wiggle their fingers at him and he’d take off running.

Nails start at his elbow, slowly scratching down his biceps, towards his armpits, and his giggling becomes more frantic. “Wait, wait, can’t we tahalk about this? I will pay you not to touch me there, it’s—”

“Too ticklish?” The mock sympathetic tone makes him whine again. “If you really want me to, I can stop. But something tells me you’re just begging because it turns you on more if I ignore it…”

God, if only his people skills were this good, he’d close every business deal. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look as he affirms the suspicion. For a corporate scumbag, he does actually value consent, but pretending to hate this makes it so much more exciting.

Fingers waste no time in attacking his underarms, and he’s pulling his arms down immediately with a too-loud, so unbecoming shriek of laughter.

“God, you weren’t kidding. This is pathetic.”

One arm is pinned above Roman’s head, fingers scratching at the space between his top rib and the hollow of his underarm, and he uses his free hand to touch himself, whines and moans intermingling with laughter.

“Yeah, cum for me like this. Can’t believe this is what gets you off. So hot, watching you squirm like this…”

The words only send him over the edge at an embarrassing speed.

In about an hour, he’ll be so fucking embarrassed, will probably down some wine to forget it. Just like all his other affairs, this will go away with an NDA and a check. But there will always be someone out there who has seen him like this, seen him beg and whine like a bitch, and he finds the thought both infuriating and arousing.

At least he knows he’s capable of asking for what he wants, although it clearly takes some persuasion. Plus, he has jack-off material to last him a lifetime, which is always fun.

[art-by-reed]

Completely unsolicited art advice :3

Draw what you see, not what you think is there

This means when you're drawing from life, be aware that your brain is telling you different information to your eyes. And what you wanna draw is what your *eyes* see.

You see this table? Can you see all four of it's legs? No. Make sure your brain doesn't trick you into drawing the fourth leg - you know it's there, but you *can't see it* right now. If you draw the fourth leg, you'll be distorting the perspective of your image, and it won't look as natural as the camera does.

You see this still life? When you draw or paint your still lifes, make sure you only draw what you see. If you get the curve of the underside of that pear wrong, you might end up giving the viewer a glimpse of the wall, the gap between pear and jug. That's not what you see. Don't draw it. Rub it out and re-draw the curve of the pear til you've *drawn what you see*.

Draw what makes you happy

For me that meant fanart. You won't practise enough if you only have a passing interest in drawing. Drawing for the sake of improving your skills can be a weak motivator, and depressing cause it's really hard to see your own progress and you'll be drawing inspiration from more experienced artists. You should draw your otp, draw your crush, draw anything that makes you feel something.

You don't need to make finished pieces

Doodle in the margains of your schoolbooks. Draw eyes. Draw anime boys. Get yourself a sketchbook that you don't show people, where you can just draw freely without worrying about it being good. Just draw. Don't apply pressure to be perfect.

Does Usain Bolt get out of bed, step onto his private running track, and sprint at full speed immediately? No, he needs a warmup. He won't even be able to *reach* full speed every day. Your art might sometimes feel like it's worse than before. Individual pieces might be worse than previous pieces, but you yourself will not be a worse artist than before. You just need a warmup.

I've gone months without drawing and then drawn absolute crap lmao. Don't let it get you down

Don't fiddle with a finished piece

Every single piece I've posted to social media, I've found a flaw with, even if it took me months to notice. Remember you're always getting better, so when you look back at a piece you will be looking with a sharper artistic eye than when you finished it. Resist the temptation to take down your art and edit it; you'll be doing that every 6 months for the rest of your life. Let it stand as part of your journey, and make a note to do better in your next piece.

No-one sees your art like you do

No-one sees the mistakes until they spend as much time staring at it as you have. What they see is the initial impact of the piece, whatever that is. The striking colour, the movement, the emotion, whatever the focus is. You often become blind to the most striking element of your work after working on it so long.

Bonus tips:

Practise gesture drawing. Just lightning quick sketches of the human body. Draw and move on. Do it today, do it now. Get off tumblr and find a pencil. Here's a website that'll help you:

https://quickposes.com/en

Adjust your screen settings so what you're seeing is what a normal screen would see; often digital tablets have brighter colours than a laptop or phone.

Get outside your comfort zone. It sucks, but just do it. You'll find you have transferable skills; it won't be as bad as you think.

Don't underprice your commissions. Figure out how long you spend on each kind of drawing, and give yourself at *least* minimum wage for the time spent. You're not only doing yourself a disservice; you're undercutting prices for the rest of the community. You're an artist now. Act like one.

And finally, if you love art, don't worry if you'll make it. There is no "talent" to art. The reason some people make it and some don't is because those people love what they do. No baby is born able to draw. Each and every one of your favourite artists used to be so goddamn bad at drawing. They're good now cause they loved it enough to persevere.

Love you. Keep going. I can't wait to see what you'll make!

Go do gesture drawing

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

out of all the people you write for in cod watchdogs and strangerthings who is most to least kinky

COD i dont think a lot of these men would be diabolically kinky, like they see enough shit on a daily basis, i think they just want to be loved.

BUT-

Konig and Ghost are at the top of the list, they're into some weird shit konig moreso they're both into size difference stuff, like,

ghost cant get over how small you feel in his hands, it turns him on so fast. he covers up for it by teasing you or playfully being mean, bullying your cock if its smaller than his, poking fun at how wet your cunt is when he hasn't even touched you yet, stuff like that...

i also think he might be into bullying or degradation, not to him of course, if you try to bully him he gets all fussy but as soon as the tables are turned hes relentless.

konig LOVES your size difference, i wholeheartedly believe this man is a sub-leaning, he can still dom he just needs to be in the mood for it first but thats pretty rare. so if you're tiny and you can still dom someone the size of him hes head over heals swooning for you. if you top him AND dom him hes actually in love.

hes got some other nasty kinks as well, i can feel it

third place is a close tie between soap and price,

price is super into taboo stuff, it just takes a minute to unlock that side of him. he likes being called daddy and sir and LOVES roleplay

soap is an exhibitionist, you can't argue with me on this one. he pulling you to every little nook and cranny he knows of and having at it. there was one point in his life where he couldn't have sex in normal places like he just couldn't get hard at all unless there was a chance you could get caught.

Stranger Things

first place is Johnathan, youu know that saying i think its like the quiet people are always the freakiest.

hes nasty, i can feel it in my bones.

he LOVES taking photos of you and himself, he gets off on knowing you're probably jerking off to one of his pictures.

slight exhibitionist, he likes going to develop his photos in public dark rooms, the thought of someone seeing one gets him all hot and bothered.

hes kind of into cnc, as far as his photos, nothing more than taking pictures of you without you knowing you've already consented before

next in line HAS got to be eddie, theres someone i cant remember the name of who hc's him as a virgin and i whole heartedly believe it, hes had so much time to just sit and think, hes got so many filthy little fantasies and hes so pent up

he likes being edged, hes only thought about it, every time hes tried he ends up getting too desperate and making himself cum anyway, if its by accident or not.

he gets off on being called a pervert, maybe a freak but only if its in an explicitly playful way, theres a fine line and honestly its better to steer clear of degradation unless he states he wants it outright.

he likes being made to say what he wants, he likes to act confident and stuff but as soon as it comes to actually having sex hes so nervous.

i also think he really latches onto nonsexual domination, not like anything aggressive just if you nonchalantly do something that strikes as dominant in your every day life he starts getting hot and bothered like, telling him to do something "answer the phone, I'm busy" or "move i need to get over there" he likes a man who can assert himself without being overly aggressive.

steve and controversially billy have to be the most vanilla,

as much as i want to say steve is a kinky degenerate, hes not. hes a rich white boy with no parents, he probably just wants to be comforted during sex.

but that doesnt mean he wont try things you want to try, hes open to suggestions you have. the kinkiest thing hes ever initiated would probably be heavy making out along with some frottage in a public bathroom.

billy is heavily traumatized and very like self-repressive and oppressive, he hates himself for being gay and he probably won't let you touch him like that for the longest time.

WATCH DOGS!!!!!!!!!!!! i was so excited to get this one, i never get watch dogs asks but i love my babies sm

first on the list is wrench, duh. the guys a fucking degenerate, he wants to try any and everything, no matter what it is.

i think his personal favorites are choking, cameras/filming, wearing women's underwear, and exhibitionism less so in legion

he doesnt like being called or calling you daddy unironically, it gives him the ick if its done seriously.

second is probably jordi. the more i think about it the more i think he might be kinkier than wrench but jori knows what he likes whereas wrench will do anything.

jordis into objectifying, hes not really the kind of guy to turn to a sex worker, i see him as a fuck buddies guy purely because he thinks hes too old/his job is too much to have a real relationship with you but he still acts like your boyfriend and he gets possessive in the way where he stalks you and your socials for more info about that new guy you're hanging out with. he wants to be the only guy you fuck and what he wants he gets.

jordi also favorites rough sex and choking and he likes cumming inside you whether you like it or not.

hes also super into spending money on you but only when it benefits him, he'll whine and complain if you ask him to buy you a charger or something but hes all over buying you like expensive ass lingerie or something

in last place is marcus, im sorry but he doesn't give me kinky vibes, the kiniest hes ever gotten was playing the weekend and turned the leds red while you fucked