#personalized headshot session

[evaneugenedavis]

Top Tips for Actors and Models: Choosing the Best Headshot Photographer

The purpose of this blog post is to help guide actors and models on the importance of headshots and how to find the best headshot photographer for you. As a model or actor, you know the value of great headshots as they are essential to your career, and they can be a career game-changer. In this post, we’ll share a few tips to help you find the best headshot photographer to meet your specific…

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[danbusler]

Mirror's Edge at The Extended Play Sessions

From folk to country to metal all in one night

Mirror’s Edge at The Extended Play Sessions – Fallout Shelter in Norwood, MA. on February 22, 2024.This super-talented duo features Jeff Mac and Mary A Medeiros.The group kept the audience totally enthralled with an eclectic mix of music that included their own take on everything from country to blues to metal.

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[fanaticsnail]

i just wanted to say i really liked your garp fic and i was wondering if you were going to do a part 2?

Bonnie Lass (2/2)

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here.

Word Count: 7,925

Synopsis: You finally meet with the handsome older gentleman at the other end of the den-den-mushi. He promises a night you will both not forget in a hurry - will it live up to that expectation?

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ You have been warned, smut, p in v sex, oral afab!receiving, bonnie lass - wee bonnie - lass - bonnie gendered terms used, afab! reader, "The Garpening", flirting, supportive boss Mihawk, den-den-mushi calls, both are shameless, age gap, unprotected, creampie.

Notes: This fic was brought to you by a bottle of wine, long chats with @carrotsunshine, @since-im-already-here, @sordidmusings, and @feral-artistry, my incessant need to write for older men, and an overbearing need to know exactly where Garp's appetite leads him.

Apprehensive and Apologetic Tag list: @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun @i-love-myself-xd @the-reas0n-is-y0u

The seabreeze whipped through your hair, the gullsong serenading you as Mihawk’s vessel made to dock at the Marine port. You squint your eyes up, staring at the bleached stone walls of the large building that held the promise of good food and pleasurable company. Hanging on the words Vice-Admiral Garp last spoke to you, your body immediately felt compelled to wander forward to exit the ship and gleefully skip towards the mighty doors.

But you knew better. 

The presence of your boss, Dracule Mihawk, fell beside you: his bicep brushing with the pointed tip of your shoulders as he physically began rumbling a low growl. He despised attending meetings held by the World Government, meaning he would likely require additional resources to get him through the week you were to remain docked at harbor. 

“My lord,” you addressed him, turning your body with a curt nod to him. He hummed in response, unbreaking his eyes away from the headquarters of the world government. With a small exhale of breath, you regained your composure and began relaying his itinerary for the day to him.

“An hour after we dock, your presence is required to partake in a meeting of the warlords of the sea,” you began, elevating your clipboard and scanning the paper pages for the next item on his agenda, “Afterwards, you have a brunch with Boa Hancock and Jinbei - to what end, I was made unaware. After that, you’ll be given your assignment to rid the outer ring of the ‘unruly plague of piracy’ the World Government deems important enough for your skill - likely to be completed over four days of battle, given the numbers,” Your brows furrowed, searching the pages for further information, “Then you are to meet with your tailor, just before your new headshots are to be confirmed by den-den-mushi.”

Mihawk clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as the marines roped his ship into port. The more you spoke, the more agitated he became. Not agitated at you, never agitated with you - he despised these meetings, and hoped that bringing you along would ensure a safe and swift encounter. He always struggled with managing his agendas and itineraries with these encounters, almost electing to bring you along simply for moral support if nothing else. 

“And then?” Mihawk spat through his clenched jaw, fists balling at his sides. 

“And then,” you confirmed, placing your clipboard under your arm and smiling up at your boss, “You have been booked into an onsen for a private spa, a massage and hot stone session in the hamam, and,” you stepped further towards Mihawk, adjusting his overcoat and soothing over his shoulders to rid the material of fray, “After that, I have sent a bottle of Rosso, and asked for for the next book in that romance series you have been indulging in to be awaiting you in your personal suite.” 

Mihawk exhaled a sigh of relief, clapping a hand over your shoulder in a gesture of appreciation. You smiled up at your boss, nodding at him to affirm your notion of providing his relief. You turned away, bringing your attention back up to the top of the building, and focussed your pointed gaze at the silhouette glaring over the balcony of the highest point. 

“And while I am distracted by a good book and a bottle of wine,” Mihawk’s taunting purr cracked into your ear, “Where will you be, my dear?” You drew a sheepish grin up to your lips, a faint flush igniting your cheeks 

Mihawk leant down into your ear, his breath tingling and hot against your flesh as he uttered his warning into your ear.

“Wined and dined by an old man?” he taunted down, his smirk visibly present in his tone, “Keeping me at bay while you enjoy a few stiff drinks, before being railed by something else stiff-.”

“Lord Dracule Mihawk!” you scolded him, turning to join your ignited gaze against his playful, honey-colored orbs, “I am first and foremost your assistant.” Mihawk’s lips twitched at the corners, indicating his amusement as close to a smile as he would ever publicly display. You huffed out your breath, shaking your head while adding, “I have never met him in person, and he is yet to extend a formal invitation to join him for dinner. I will be busy all day tending to your affairs, as I always am, Sir.” His amusement never lessened, only growing on his lips with another twitch.

“And after the day of your duties?” Mihawk’s brow twitched in interest, “What then?” 

“What then,” you shoved your index finger into his chest, scraping it up to tap the tip of his nose, “Is that I will be tucked safely within my bedsheets after a long bath and a hot meal. I am here to serve you, sir. I am your assistant, and I am a damn good one.” 

“That you are, dear,” he confirmed, placing his other hand on your shoulder, holding you in place, “Which is why, after today, I have given you three days paid shore leave.” Your stunned silence only propelled him on further to add, “Buy yourself a new pretty dress, and enjoy the sights,” he leant forward with a small wink, his darkened lashes kissing against the waterline to hide his brilliant amber eyes briefly, “And then, get the old man to roar your name in the thralls of joint ecstacy. By my orders, dear. You have earnt it.”

The warm rise of warmth held against the apples of your cheeks all day, constantly repeating Mihawk’s comments in a circular swirl within your mind. From the moment your temporary office was welcomed by a pink-haired cadet, to filling in a variety of paperwork, to taking various den-den-mushi calls, to clocking out for the day - the flushed heat held firm against your cheeks. 

No whisper of a word, nor scroll of a calligraphed note, graced your temporary office with its presence. You honestly thought you had been forgotten, neglected in the knowledge that you had journeyed long beside Dracule Mihawk to be within close proximity to the man who held your undivided attention every day for the past year. 

Just as you were packing away your desk for the day, the den-den-mushi began to roar to life on your wooden countertop. The reverberation of its guttural grunts and gurgles had you satiating its tone by answering the call. 

“Lord Dracule Mihawk’s den-den-mushi. State your intentions, and make it quick-,” you growled, your professional tone wavering in agitation due to the proximity of your shift ending. 

“-Oh, sweet bonnie lass. I dinnae mean t’keep ‘ye waitin’,” the soothing drawl of Vice-Admiral Garp purred through the transponder. You huffed out an exasperated breath, your brows furrowing further against your forehead as you navigated through your swelling mind. 

“Vice-Admiral,” your warning tone cut through the air, halting all further conversation with a concluding utterance of, “My office hours have concluded for the day. Should you desire to reach Dracule Mihawk for any need, you may try again at-.” Your words were stolen from you by Garp’s tone cutting through them like a knife through hot butter.

“-Please, lass,” his plea cracked through the den-den-mushi, holding you hostage to his words, “Please dannae brush me aside. I have been in meetin’s all day, and I have been trying to claw my way to you from the wee hours of the morn, to the quiet moments of the noon.” You rotated your neck, relieving tension found within the tight bands of your muscles. 

“Vice-Admiral,” you began, interrupted once again by his rumbling brogue growling through the mouthpiece of the den-den-mushi, “I have had a long journey at sea. My only welcome being more work at the bequest of my employer. I do not have time to entertain you over the transponder today. If you desire to speak further, you can try again tomorrow, Vice-Admiral-.”

“-Garp, lass. It’s Garp, please,” his breathy voice gasped through the speaker, “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I should’ve been down by the docks waiting - up to my knees in sea water to reign your ship in with my bare hands.” You hummed at the thought: a high and mighty Vice-Admiral of the marines lowering himself to the duties of a simple cadet at the chance of meeting his eyes with your own in person. 

You took a moment's pause, contemplating his words and mulling the thought of him demonstrating his strength and stamina to you while shepherding Mihawk’s ship into port. Did he have old navy tattoos on his biceps? Did his advanced age hinder his ability to perform such a task? Gathering he was the one who suggested such a notion, and him being a man of high honor, you gathered he would be up to such a muscle burning task. 

“Alright, Garp,” you hummed into the transponder, leaning back into the transponder and purring through your vocal challenge, “Make it up to me.” 

A shuddered groan sparked through the mouthpiece, your own giddy joy elevating in your chest and igniting your body with soft tingles. If he had this much sway over you with just a small growl of his voice, you were unsure of where the next few moments were to bring you. 

“Meet me at the docks in two hours, Bonnie Lass,” his tone was hushed enough to draw you in closer, your ears pricking to catch every syllable granted to you, “And I’ll treat you to a night you willnae forget in a hurry.” Your broad grin split your face, a small squeak of joy threatening to escape your lips with a soft hum.

“And how should you like me, Garp?” you asked him, your taunting purr calling further into the receiver end, “Should I prepare my wardrobe for an outdoor activity,” you questioned, your foot tapping lightly within the air while hooking over your knee, “Or should I just throw a coat over some lingerie and call it a night?” 

Several cracking objects bent and broke, echoing throughout the den-den-mushi transponder; something akin to wood snapping and nails tearing through mahogany. You rewarded such a sound with a melodic giggle, only producing more creaking wood noises in consequence. 

“Wear something dainty for me,” a low rumbled growl purred at you, “What you choose to wear under it is your prerogative.” 

“Aye, Sir,” you confirmed with a curt nod, “Two hours, and I’ll be all yours.” 

“All mine,” his low drawl parroted back to you, the giddy chirp of his voice endearing in your ears. At the click of the receiver, you sprung immediately into action and hurried out of the office doors. 

You bid a cheery farewell to the cadets loitering in the hallway, thanking them for arranging your office, before leaving the washed-stone building of the World Government headquarters. Your smile never left your lips, the promise of meeting the man who held your romantic affections weighing heavily on your mind and fluttering harshly within the pit of your stomach. 

While bathing, cleansing your skin and hair, and ensuring every part of you was styled and scented with the sweet and sultry persona you had presented yourself to be, your thoughts turned to pondering unspoken questions. Will he enjoy the way you present yourself? Will he behave like the perfect gentleman? How should you act: the way you shamelessly speak over the den-den-mushi, or poised like a lady? Would he like this particular color on you, or on the floor beside you? 

You shook your head to rid them of the spiraling doubts, soothing over your tight dress and hooking your coat over your forearm while exiting the suite you had organized for yourself. Clicking and locking your door behind you, your eyes briefly met with Mihawks: a book tucked under his arm and wine bottle within his grasp, twirling the cork with his screw and filling his wine glass in the window. He shot you a knowing look, mouthing the words: “make him roar.”

Your cheeks flooded with the heat of scorched oil, flash point igniting in your eyes at the final utterance of support from your boss. Shaking your head, you made your way briskly to the docks. The dimly lit lamplight illuminated your path, the click of your heels tapping lightly on the solid sandstone pathway. The flap of gulls wings shepherded your final steps atop the docks, your eyes meeting with a truly unique sight you were not expecting in the least. 

In the middle of the pier stood a highly decorated marine, silver hair backlit by the radiance of the moon and standing with his wrists clenched behind his back. His beard was neatly cropped, his eyes fixed on your approach, his lips exhaling a shaky breath he prayed you didn’t notice. As your feet carried your body closer, you halted a few feet away from him, tilting your chin and pursing your lips playfully up at him. 

“Vice-Admiral,” you purred up at him seductively, your eyes wide and innocent to contradict your expression.

“Bonnie-Lass,” he gruffly commented in response, a smile painted brilliantly on his lips. A delightful shudder flew up your spine at his undistorted voice finally meeting with you. You flit your eyes hastily over him, examining his stature inquisitively - a gesture he returned with gusto, eyes hovering over your meticulously cared and styled hair and outfit. 

“May I invite ‘ye aboard, lass?” Garp’s softness in his tone pulled you in, his arms waving behind him to gesture towards his impressive ship, “I ‘kin understand if being on a ship again after so much time on the water might no’ agree with ‘ye-.”

“-I would love to see your ship, Captain,” you remarked gleefully, stepping past his arms and following his gesture to the broadwalk, “I adore sea travel, and enjoy the rocking of the waves. I find it comforting.” 

As you stepped past, your intoxicating radiance graced Garp with the aroma of your sweet perfume. The way your presence called him immediately to follow you, his feet falling in tow with your every step, was not something he ever accounted for. 

The moment your voice picked up the receiver of the den-den-mushi, Garp’s sour mood was immediately stifled under your comforting tone. The first time he called Castle Kuraigana to relay orders to the broody warlord of the sea, he was ill-prepared to be met with a tone so honey-sweet and kind. He was immediately smitten, often calling the castle with any excuse he could muster to hear more of your sweetness pouring onto him through the speaker of his den-den-mushi. 

But now you were here in person, Garp truly had no idea how to handle you. He did not know if you would allow him the luxury of holding you against himself in a warm and welcoming embrace. He did not desire to lean down and claim your lips with a kiss, only to be met with a turn of your cheek and an utterance of, “You’re too old for me,” falling from your lips. He truly did not know what to expect from you, and the unspoken anxiety was eating at his stomach and clouding his mind. 

“Garp?” you called over to him, halting your advance onto his ship and turning to face him, “Are you going to guide me along your vessel, or am I to find my own way without you?” Garp snapped his eyes to meet with yours, his winding thoughts pausing as he bore his intense gaze into you. 

“Although I do enjoy exploring new areas, I would prefer to be ushered in with the pleasure of your company,” you continued, a coy smile springing to your features, “After all the promises you made to me of the many months we’d been speaking,” you took a step back, falling closer to his larger body, “I would prefer you to keep your word.”

“And which word might that be, lass?” his gruff whisper crooned down at you, his eyes half-lidded and lips parted in desperation, “I had promised ‘ye an array of mischief, if ‘me old mind serves correct.”

“Considering I’ll be on, I’m assuming, this ship for the next few days while Mihawk completes his assignment,” you contemplated, darting your focus between his two eyes, “Would you show me to my quarters so I may send for my belongings to arrive on the morrow?” 

“All work an’ no play, lass?'' he huffed a small laugh down at you, “An’ here I thought you’d want something more playful the first time we met in person, or perhaps something a little more-...” His thoughts trailed off, his tone almost disappointed at your formal conversation. He took it as his first rejection from you, opting to not push his expectation and desires onto you should it make you uncomfortable. 

You exhaled through your nose, your smile not leaving your lips as you shook your head at him. As Garp allowed his spiraling thoughts to plague his mind, fully trapped within his misguided notion you had rejected his flirtatious advances, he didn’t feel the grip of your fingers around his teal tie until his body was thrust forward by the strength of your forearm. 

Drawing all of the power you could muster, alongside the courage you felt you needed to complete such a feat, you claimed the lips of the decorated Vice-Admiral of the marines beneath your own. You set a bruising pace, turning your head and standing yourself up on the tips of your toes to reach more of him. Your other hand found his broad chest, dropping your coat to the floor while fisting the material of his outer coat beneath your palm and cradling him closer to yourself. 

Stepping backwards onto the ship, you ushered his hulking body aboard while unbreaking from the passionate embrace. As your knees knocked with a hard benchtop behind you, you ushered the larger man to turn, forcing his body down to sit himself down on the bench. You opened your mouth, your tongue raking against his bottom lip. 

A groan fled from his lips, Garp’s needy hands grasping at your flesh over the material of your dress. Fistfulls of the material was claimed within Garp’s hands, the hemline of the material being shimmied up your thighs to grant more of your flesh to be exposed to him. He opened his mouth, allowing you to seek out his tongue to brush against your own with expert and practiced precision. 

As the material continued to ride up your body, you hooked your knees either side of his broad thighs and straddled his waist. The split side of your dress strained beneath the grasps of Garp’s hands, stretching the material harshly before your ears pricked at the harsh ‘rip’. You squeaked in Garps mouth, drawing your lips away from his with a frown.

“You tore my dress!” you exclaimed, your accusatory reprimand mixing with a hidden smile beneath your frown, “It was my favorite!” Garp paid your chastising tone no mind, peppering your neck with several, open-mouthed kisses.

“I’ll buy ‘ye twelve more,” he gasped, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh of your neck, “All the colors you desire,” he raked his teeth against your jaw, “All the patterns in the world.” You keened a small moan into the air when he found a sensitive piece of flesh between your throat and your pulse. 

His hand dipped between the material of your dress, raking his fingertips over your thigh to hold your hip only to pause while held in complete shock. 

“You’re ‘nae wearing anythin’ beneath this dress, bonnie lass,” he growled against your jaw, his teeth catching on the bone and clamping over your soft skin.

“You said it was my prerogative,” you gasped, turning your head to seek out his lips with your own, “Why do you think I wanted you to show me to my quarters, Sir?” You pressed a long and heavy kiss against his lips before tearing yourself away once more. “But it seemed as if you couldn't handle the uncertainty for a moment longer,” you kissed his whiskered cheek, “So I am improvising.” 

Garp immediately responded by raking his broad hands beneath your bare ass, barely covered by the material of your dress, hoisting you into the air and marching you throughout the corridors with heavy and intentional steps. You giggled at him, weaving your hands over his shoulders and massaging his scalp with your fingertips, and nuzzling down into his neck. You inhaled deeply, committing his cologne to memory while nipping and sucking on his exposed flesh close to his collar.

“It’s against protocol to leave visible marks above my uniform,” Garp growled, leaning his head back and exposing more of his skin to you, “If you litter my skin with any bites, I’ll see to ‘ye punishment personally.” In response to your rough, peppered kisses along his neck and bearded jaw, Garp slapped his hand on your right ass cheek before kneading it within his fingers and palm. 

“I am no marine, Garp,” you confessed, wrapping your lips around his pulse and sucking at the skin with fervor, “And I’d like to see you try.”

“Y’ell do as ‘yer bloody told, lass,” he growled, leaning away from your lips. As his eyes met with yours, he squeezed the flesh of your ass with a warning pinch. You squeaked in delight, Garp’s hearty laughter pleasantly echoing within your ears. 

“I’ll do as I bloody please, Garp,” you taunted in return, biting a crescent shaped mark against his pulse, soothing over the mark with your lips and tongue. You sucked at the mark, hearing a hitch in his breath as he continued to lead you towards the guest suites. 

Tearing your lips away, you hummed at the heart-shaped mark you pressed into his skin. It was a medal of lust, visible to all who see it - and see it, they will. Garp’s pulse was elevated further, his passionate advances leading him on with heavy and intentional steps. His boot heel kicked in the door to cabin quarters, your anticipation only growing as Garp lowered you onto the freshly made bed. 

Your back hit the plush mattress, your hair sprawling out on the sheets as he lowered his head against your neck. He pressed a few intentional kisses against your exposed flesh, his hands desperately raking over your chest to knead your breasts slowly and sensually. You sucked in a soft groan, your brows furrowing up as his thumb and index finger rolled over your puckered nipples. At your small gasp, he took it as encouragement to continue stimulating your breasts with his left hand, as his right rose the hemline of your dress over your hip. 

Hastily, you shot your hands forward, fumbling over the buckle of his belt to rid it of its hold on his pants. Just as quickly, Vice-Admiral Garp surged forward: claiming both of your wrists within his circular grip to halt your advance. You furrowed your brows as he pinned your wrists beside your head, your wide eyes meeting with his mischievous grin. 

“What are you-,” you began, silenced by a heavy and open-mouthed kiss pressed against your lips, claiming you beneath him with rough bites and soothing caresses. He groaned against your lips, leading your hands with his to wrap around his shoulders and weave into his hair once more within your fingertips. 

“Let me taste ‘ye first, bonnie,” he growled against your sensitive skin, You gasped a sigh of affirmation, nodding against his smiling lips, “Let me make it up to ‘ye for ‘me surliness earlier. Please let me have ‘ye like this.” 

Trailing open mouthed kisses down your neck, halting briefly at your breasts before trailing down your stomach; Vice-Admiral Monkey D. Garp made his intentions incredibly clear to you as he shimmied the line of your dress higher over your body. 

“Let me show ‘ye how much I’ve been craving the sweet call of my name from those pretty lips o’ yours,” Hooking your knees over his shoulders, he scraped his bearded chin over the sensitive inner flesh of your thighs before grazing his lips over the top of your core, “I’ll have ‘ye cryin’ and whimperin’ for me before ‘ye even see my cock.” 

He tested your sensitive flesh: flicking the tip of his tongue out to brush against your swollen clit. Immediately, your back arched up and a soft cry flew from your lips before you could stop it. Garp chuckled, looking as your pulsating core was welcoming more of his touches, giving away your arousal with a pool of your sweet essence pouring from your contracting entrance. 

“You are so beautiful, bonnie lass,” he pressed a sweet kiss against the top of your groin, his smile felt against your flesh, “And ‘ye finally all mine.” After allowing another chuckle to fall from his lips, he advanced forwards and skillfully licked a clean and expert stripe along your glistening walls. 

Vice-Admiral Garp was known for many things: His brutality in war, his aggression while training cadets, his calculated advances on the battlefield, his impossible strength, and his insatiable appetite. This appetite was now displayed to you as he hungrily and desperately lapped at your core like a man on death row, consuming his last meal while awaiting execution. The balance between savoring the flavor while horking down like a man starving had your eyes rolling back and hands fisting at his cropped hair to hold on tightly. 

“O-Oh fuck,” you cried, your eyes now tightly clamped shut as you relished in his skilled ministrations. The roll of his tongue, the mouthing of his hungry lips, had you physically quaking against his face.

“Shakin’ like a leaf, lass,” he taunted, nuzzling into your aching core, “‘ye want ‘te see what else I ‘kin do?” Your toes curled as he prodded your entrance with his tongue, his nose circling your clit and spreading your arousal throughout your core. Skillfully thrusting his tongue in and out of your desperate and delicate slit, you felt as if you were going to explode in ecstasy the moment he began vibrating his tongue with a deep, rumbling groan. 

“G-Garp. I-I don’t know if I-I can-... hnnng-... I c-can’t last m-....mmmn-... m-much longer,” you cried, your thighs clenching on his neck and shoulders to hold him in place. Your body reacted against your will, arching your back off the mattress while desperately riding his face. You felt the band winding tighter in your abdomen, each area of your body desperately shooting sparks, teetering on the edge of unravel. 

Two firm hands clapped over your thighs: one holding down your stomach and pinning you against the bed, the other kneading over your thigh. Garp pulled his face away from your needy cunt, hovering his hot breath and breathing puffs of cool air over your hole. You whimpered in desperation, wriggling against his wide-spread fingers to get any stimulus to conclude your high. 

“W-Why-,” you cried, a slap on your bare ass halting your words and having you throw your head against the pillow. 

“-Because I warned ‘ye nae t’ leave a mark on ‘me body. It’s against protocol, lass,” he chuckled, his whiskered chin scraping over your thigh as his smiling lips pressed a kiss against the outer corner of your crotch. You growled, leaning up on your elbows, staring into his eyes with a dark agitation.

“And after all those promises of making it up to me?” you spat, your nose scrunching, lips pursing and brow furrowing. Garp rose from his low position against your exposed flesh, a foreign desperation depicted in his wide eyes. 

“Were they all empty words?” you uttered. You knew, for a fact, that Vice-Admiral Garp was mad for you, but that only made you want to taunt him more, “All an act to get me to open my legs, just to leave me disappointed like the rest of them?” A stuttered gasp flew from his lips as he crawled up the bed, weaving his clothed torso through your legs to meet at eye level once again. In turn, you shimmied your body away from him, turning your face away in an attempt to hide your smile.

You knew how desperately he wanted you. The moment your lips collided with his above deck, you felt just how much he absolutely adored you. Considering he held you on the edge of ecstasy, only to pull away from you as you were about to unravel , you decided it would be more entertaining to watch him grovel for you. 

“Perhaps you were only interested in leaving a sour taste, teasing me with your pretty brogue and taunting me with your dream-like promises,” you continued, lips pouting and brows triangulating up in the center of your forehead. Garp staggered in his movement, his hands reaching out in an attempt to grasp yours, only met with you pulling away. 

“L-Lass, I didnae mean t-,” he began, halted by your melancholy sigh in an attempt to stifle a rising giggle in your chest. 

“-You said I’d beg and plead for your hands and lips to be in a few key places, if I recall correctly,” you pouted, playing into your role, “How disappointing, only having me beg and writhe beneath you to pull away at the crescendo.” 

“P-Please, lass. I’m sorry. I am a cruel, cruel man,” he confessed, claiming your left hand within his right and peppering the flesh with a flurry of kisses, “What can I do t’make it up to ‘ye, ‘me bonnie lass. Tell me,” he trailed his kisses up higher, halting at the inner flesh of your elbow, “Order me, dictate me,” he continued spreading kisses up to your shoulder, soothing over your scorching flesh, “I beg ‘ye to reconsider your withdrawal. I am ‘ye humble servant, wee bonnie.” 

Your smile broke through your pouting expression, your head snapping over to meet with his. His eyes were wide and frantic, desperate to know he had not lost you by enacting his cruel punishment. 

“Off the bed,” you ordered him, a twinkle of mischief sparking to light in your surly expression, “And strip yourself, slowly.” 

“Aye, bonnie lass,” he stumbled over his words, immediately staggering backwards and falling to the side of the bed. He began unbuttoning his overcoat and shaking it from his shoulders hurriedly, prompting a giggle to break through your practiced character. 

“I said slowly, Garp,” you purred at him, sitting up and moving your left calf along your right, “I thought you would be good at following orders, considering your title as a marine.” He halted his hasty undress, opting to silently follow your orders by unhooking the clasps of his belt and unbuttoning his pants. As the hem lay limply on his hips, he slowly popped each button of his shirt and raked his index finger along his torso to separate the fabric. 

Shamelessly following each movement with a bite of your bottom lip, you reclined on your side and encouraged him to continue with your sultry and beckoning eyes. His heart fluttered, feeling so small beneath your predatory gaze. After speaking with you for so long over den-den-mushi, and desperately seeking your approval with his choice words, he was certain he knew what to expect when he met with you.

He had never been so pleased to be proven wrong in his life. 

As he released the final button of his shirt, you clicked your tongue at him and pointed your index finger at the teal sash decorating his neck.

“The tie stays on,” you spoke through narrowed eyes, testing his resolve to follow your orders. He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head as he peeled his shirt away from his skin - leaving the teal tie around his neck. He shimmied off the fabric before hooking his thumbs through his belt hoops, slowly pulling the material over his hips and down his muscular thighs. 

Hungrily and awestruck, you followed each taut flex of his impressive muscles: his forearms, his biceps, his shoulders, his pectorals, his abs, his thighs - nothing was hidden from your eyes as he continued to slowly undress himself before you. His head-shot from the World Government truly did not do him justice - a man dignified and refined, muscular and carved from slated marble. He was a sight to behold, and was anxious to receive your approval at each passing moment. 

Stepping away from his pants, Vice-Admiral Garp was standing before you in naught but his teal tie and tight undershorts. The growing pole to tent the center of his trousers had your mouth watering beneath your stoic and sultry expression: keeping your hand close to your chest to not reveal your desperation for him. 

“Does this please you, lass?” he whispered below his breath, the corner of his mouth ticking with his melancholy expression, “An old man far from his prime, humbling himself before the delicate flower of Kuraigana. Is this all ‘ye dreamed of?” His small sigh caught your ear, prompting your brows to furrow in deep thought. His eyes were focussed on the floor, unable and unwilling to tear them away to meet with your exploratory eyes. 

Vice-Admiral Garp was self conscious. He found himself unworthy to be at the receiving end of your interest, a fact that had become clearer and clearer the more the night flew on. 

“Take off your undershorts, Garp,” you ordered him, slowly rising to your knees on the mattress, “And lie back on the bed.” You witnessed as his cock twitched beneath his pants, a growl purring in the chasms of his chest as he hooked his thumbs around the hemline of his undergarments. 

Slowly shimmying down the elastic, his impressive cock sprang above the surface, slapping his abdomen with his shining mushroom tip on his belly. The slit was dripping with precum, the veins throbbing with anticipation while he bashfully lay his back down on the mattress. His cock stood to attention, knob throbbing while his shaft was hoisted in the air. He was neatly cropped, every follicle of his happy trail meticulously maintained down his stomach. 

Without much warning, you eagerly straddled his waist with a giggle of joy. A gasp of shock fled from his lips, followed by a huff of laughter as you eagerly threw your dress off your body and looked down at his reclined form. There was a hidden uncertainty within his eyes, a hopeful sheen sucking you within his orbs each moment you gazed into them.

“Now what, lass?” he questioned you, eyes searching yours as he reached up his palm to cradle your cheek, “You’ve got me pinned and helpless beneath your thighs. Does this please you? D-Do I-...” his voice trailed off, remaining uncertain as his eyes sought out deeper, unspoken desires within your own, “...-Do I please you?” 

You sighed, flipping your hair over your shoulder and looking down at him through half-hooded eyelashes. Your soft smile drew up over your features, a secret and hidden kiss’ shadow rising within the right-hand corner of your mouth - a place that immediately held Garp rendered defeated under your beautiful features. 

What began as mild lust had blossomed and flourished into something more sacred. Garp was indeed smitten with you, desperately wanting to both treat and tease you, but now that he had you - he was clawing at being a worthy partner for you to couple with. He knew you were beautiful, he knew you were intelligent, he knew you were wise - but he did not expect, upon meeting you in person, to be rendered helpless upon seeking your approval. 

Wordlessly, you sought out the tip of his glistening cock with your needy hole, slowly circling the knob without welcoming him fully into your walls. He gasped at the contact, surging forward to grasp at your thighs over his waist. Your arousal coated his tip, painting it with your own lust and propelling his sinful desires on further. 

“You’ll please me by letting me ride your thick cock until you can’t take it anymore,” you purred down at him, angling your lips to almost brush against his own, “You’ll please me by splitting me open and filling me up with every inch you’re willing to give me. You’ll please me-...” you leaned your torso down, your breasts brushing with his pectorals, nipples circling his own in a sultry dance as you hovered over his cock, “...-By allowing me the luxury of cumming on your cock, my pussy milking you of your thick load and splashing back onto your cock once it meets with my cervix.” 

Garp held his breath, furrowing his brows as he felt you inch down to claim his shined knob within your entrance. He focussed on the hitch of your breath, the swell of your heart rate, and the small whimper in your voice. He focussed on the twitch of your closed eyes and your parted lips as you sank further along his shaft. 

Although his appetite was insatiable, he would never rush you in adjusting to his girth and length. He relished in every stretch your walls made to accommodate his impressive size, focussing on how your brows knit together and breath hitched at every small move. He tried to hold back the twitch of his desperate cock, trying not to lose himself within the feeling of your cunt fluttering to adjust for his cock to fully sheathe itself within you. 

As the hilt of your crotch met with his, his cock disappearing within your fluttering cunt up to the brim, he finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief at being sheathed completely within you. Grinding yourself down, you suppress a strangled moan within your throat as you feel your walls adjust and accommodate to his impressive size. Testing a small movement, you inched yourself upwards and slunk down against his shaft - a sigh mirrored within Garp’s lips as he restrained himself from fucking up into you. 

You began to slowly rake your walls up, before slamming your body back down against his groin: mutual cries of bliss falling from each other's lips as you focussed on riding his cock. You hastily drew up speed, setting a rhythm that had his hips rolling beneath your own. Your mewling cries of his name were rising into the air each time you felt his knob touch the edge of your cervix. 

His hands gripped firmly against your thighs, ushering you to bob, grind and gyrate against his cock to chase your own ecstasy. Your clit brushed with the small tuft of hair remaining at the base of his shaft, stimulating the small bud each time you drew yourself down to his crotch. 

He stared up in disbelief at the way your body responded to him. He was mesmerized at each whimper of your voice, each flutter of your eyelashes, and each slam of your aching cunt welcoming his throbbing cock within his walls. He couldn’t get enough: you were intoxicating and addictive with each writhe against him. 

Your rhythm began to get more stuttered, your body responding to the elevation of your ecstasy. Your walls began to thump against him, wringing his cock and clamping down on it as your approaching orgasm began to shudder against his shaft. His breath hitched, his own brow furrowing as he felt every pulse within your walls ushering him into his own bliss. 

As you continued to grind against him, Garp struggled to hold back against his own desires of flipping you over and stapling his hips against your own by railing your body into the plush mattress below. He did not want to destroy his good standing with you by completing such a lewd act, reacting in penance from drawing himself away from cumming into his awaiting lips, and simply chose to take each moment you gave him as a gift. 

The flutter of your cunt began squeezing his shaft, the sensitive spongy underside of your clit meeting with his knob propelling you further in the release of your incoming ecstasy. Your whimpers and cries of his name falling freely from your lips had both Garp’s cock and heart swell in pride that his body was granting you such bliss.

“G-Garp, I-I’m gonna-...” you called, clenching your eyes shut as you continued to gyrate and grind down against his cock. 

Garp’s iron will snapped, immediately hooking his arms around your waist and tackling you against the bedsheets. He caged you beneath him, plowing greedily into your shuddering walls with an eager snap of his hips. You shrieked in shock, your ecstasy being ushered in further by Garp stampeding you both towards your ends with a heavier and more controlled rhythm.

Each heavy rake of his cock within your cunt had his balls slapping against your puckered ass. At this new angle, you cried out, desperately clawing at his back and shoulders to draw him in closer to you. 

He hoisted your knee over his hip, latching his lips onto your neck and sucking a deep, angry, mark into your porcelain flesh. You cried for him, every ounce of your flesh ignited by the sparks of untamed ecstasy as you thrust your hips upwards to meet with every sharp snap of his rhythmic hips. 

“Cum for me,” he purred at you in a gruff growl, “Cry out my name.” His rhythm began to weigh heavier with each deep thrust, heavier and heavier with every staggered slam of his hips. “I want the entire base t’ know I’m makin’ ‘ye feel good. Want ‘ye fookin’ boss t’ know you’re becoming unraveled by my thick cock, ‘me bonnie lass.” 

At the mention of your boss: Mihawk’s verbal warning of having Garp cry your name in bliss echoed back to you. In a final ditch effort of having Garp cry out for you, you latched your lips onto the mark you created a few hours prior and teased the flesh with your teeth and tongue. Garp knit his brows, growling through yelping barks below his breath at how truly good you made him feel. 

“O-Ohh f-fuck, Garp. I-I’m-... ahh-... I’m c-cumming,,” you called, clawing and gnawing at his flesh like a lifeline anchoring you to the earth. He sucked in a breath feeling the twitch of his end spurting the first few moments of his orgasm within your walls. As much as he desired to pull away from your eager cunt to not risk his seed finding purchase within your walls - he simply could not help himself. He immediately began plowing harsher into you, his cock spurting his cum within you like a valve turning to release hisses of pent-up pressure. 

His voice became elevated with each staggered thrust, each subtle whimpered cry of his name coinciding with you grinding and writhing beneath him to chase your mutual highs. At one final bite of his flesh, and a particularly harsh snap of his hips, the two of you began experiencing the first realms of joint ecstasy.

“F-Fuck bonnie lass, I cannae pull out,” he roared your name, gyrating and pumping his seed deep within your cunt: splashing back spurts of his load within your needy, throbbing cunt. 

“D-Don’t you dare t-try,” you scolded him, eyes rolling back in bliss as he chased his orgasm within you. The walls of your pussy began contracting against his thick cock, shepherding him into releasing hot ropes of sticky cum within your eager walls. For every thump of your walls, you were granted by a spurt of his release within them - milking him of every fiber of his essence. 

As you both rode through your highs, the hums of your voices and gasps of your breath caught up with you. He snapped his hips forward, remaining sheathed within your glistening walls, as he raked his fingers through your hair. Your strands stuck against your forehead, your pupils blown with lust as you gulped back another cry of ecstasy as his cock throbbed within you. You sobbed, hiding your forehead against his chest as you attempted to come down from your high. 

Taking a moment to each gulp in oxygen to fill your lungs, Garp rolled from caging you beneath him, unsheathing his cock from within your pussy slowly. He looked down at your entrance, watching as it clenched to chase his retreat from your body with an eagerness he was yet to witness in some time. You were a masterpiece, a body unraveled and glistening within the realms of the afterglow in unbridled lust. He adored you. 

“You alrigh’, lass?” he asked you quietly, his lips grazing your temple as your lungs refilled with oxygen. You smiled up at him, eyes closing while your body chased his lips to feel his wired whiskers against your skin longer. You hummed at him, rolling over to your side and grazing his chest with your open hands. 

“Never better, Garp,” you cooed back at him, feeling your energy supply depleting the longer you remained comfortably within his arms. He cradled you against himself, feeling the soft song of slumber calling to him each moment you remained nestled against him. 

“And what of t’morrow?” Garp asked, his brow cocking up at the corner while he fought to keep his eyes open, “‘Ye got duties to attend, I’m sure.” 

“Dracule Mihawk has allowed me the luxury of a few days' shore leave,” you confessed, sleepily, “I don’t think I’ll be returning to my station any time soon, Vice-Admiral-.”

“-Garp, bonnie lass. It’s Garp, remember?” he cooed down at you, shimmying his body down to locate the plush duvet and nestling you both beneath it, “When you’re with me, it’s always Garp.”

“Alright, Garp,” you purred up at him, eyes hooded and feeling serenaded by sleep, “Will you stay by me tonight? Show me you still want me in the morning?” He huffed out a breath of disbelief, cradling you further against his chest and pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“Rest assured, Bonnie Lass,” the rumbling drawl of his voice cooed down at you, his fingers brushing over your hair and smoothing over each strand, “I will still want you every morning.” 

Both of your warm smiles clung to your cheeks as you fell into the arms of sleep, feeling calm and at peace while clinging to one another. You had never been so pleased to be relieved of duty, your legs and body remaining blissfully numb by being plowed into by Garp’s throbbing cock. 

An apology for his rough actions came in the form of caging your hips against his face, his arms weaving over your thighs, and him welcoming you to ride his head until your voice grew hoarse from the sheer number of times he had you cry his name on his eager tongue. Enthusiastically lapping at your glistening cunt with the fervor of a man being granted the feast of a lifetime, he refused to part his lips from your glistening walls until you violently shook with a scream of his name.

When riding down your high and sobbing through your ecstasy, you looked down at his eager eyes: twinkling with mischief. Upon meeting his gaze, he kissed your thigh and cooed up at you: “Just one more? One last time before I let you go, ‘me wee bonnie lass?” for the fifth time that morning. After all, his appetite truly was insatiable.

#one piece #x reader #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #monkey d garp #garp x reader #monkey d garp x reader #mihawk #platonic mihawk #mihawk's assistant #garp is a menace #monkey d garp smut #op smut #op x reader smut #garp smut #op garp #age gap kink

[bangbangchann]

HARSH TIDES - PROLOGUE

masterlist.

Many problems and headaches came with Chan's position as Admiral of the Fifth Fleet. Problems like keeping his men in check at all times, keeping ready in case of onset of war and managing supplies out seas. 

Normal problems for an Admiral.

What Chan didn't expect is for the girl with the attitude problem that caused him the greatest migraines as trainees in the navy to be, not only promoted as an Admiral, but also take charge of the Second Fleet. 

To be fair, Y/N was always better than him. As trainees she had the superior skillset and fighting capabilities compared to Chan, but she lacked two very crucial characteristics that Chan was best known for.

Patience and drive.

Sure Y/N did want a promotion, everyone does. But she never spent sleepless nights practicing her aim at the camp's shooting range. Of course, she didn't have to - she was a natural at headshots.

She never spent her lunch break asking her closest mates into practicing psychological torture on her just so she could pass with flying colors during their testing. She didn't need to though. Having a full meal and a clear mind proved effective in passing her "torture" sessions with a breeze.

But because she didn't throw herself to self perfection like Chan did, she didn't get promoted first. And Chan absolutely loved to see it. The person who rubbed her skills in his face on the daily could sit and sulk as Vice Admiral of the Tenth Fleet while he would bask in the shine of Admiral of the Fifth Fleet.

Well, that was until now.

Not only did she finally get promoted and get equal with him, she also managed to surpass him in fleet ranking.

Just how in the hell was she constantly able to usurp Chan everytime?

And of course things would come to him needing to team up with her and her fleet under the command of General Major Im Jae Beom to fight in this new and very ugly war.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan fanfic #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x female reader #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #skz smut #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz angst #stray kids x reader #chan x reader #chan smut #chan fluff #chan skz #chan angst #chan x you #chan x y/n #christopher bang #chris x reader

[ralith]

Canvas

Ghost/Soap fic

Rated M for suggestive themes. Fluff, Body and scar worship. Edible body paint.

Soap has run out of journal space so Ghost gifts him his body to use as a canvas. He wants to see in himself the beauty that Soap envisions with each of his sketches.

Can also be found posted to my AO3.

“I hadn’t taken you for much of a reader,” Ghost had commented on the first day he moved in with Soap, bringing with him only a few boxes of personal belongings. Soap’s house off base was slightly smaller than his own had been, but it was so much brighter and warmer. More lived in. In the corner of Soap’s, no, their bedroom, was an overfilled bookshelf.

“They’re journals, not books. Well, there’re enough stories there to fill novels, but it’s mainly doodling. Little snippets of what’s on my mind at the time.”

Ghost was aware Soap enjoyed drawing on the nearest available paper, stealing napkins from his mates at the bar or scribbling in the margins of official paperwork much to Price’s irritation. But he had no idea it was to such an extent as to fill bookshelves.

“You’re free to look through them whenever. If you’d like.” Ghost had caught the slight blush on Soap’s cheeks. He was taken back at how easily Soap trusted him. First letting him into his life, his home, and now the inner workings of his mind. Ghost hadn’t allowed Johnny to so much as see him unclothed from the mask down, still uneasy at undressing in front of the sergeant, instead slipping away to the bathroom.

A nod was all Ghost could muster, and Soap smiled at him. “Not to brag, but I’m a pretty good artist.”

He was an exceptional artist as Ghost would learn. He had found himself spending hours flipping through those journals, admiring the sweeping lines and attention to detail. The journals looked like they went back to Soap’s basic training days through to the present. The newer journals were all about the 141, sketches of Price and Gaz, their latest missions, trips to the local bar which turned into late night karaoke sessions with Gaz belting out tunes to a riveted audience.

Then, Ghost noticed he quickly became the center of attention in the most recent collections. Side profiles, headshots, the mask, the mask, the mask…Soap was obsessed for a while there until just after the ordeal in Las Almas. And then his face was everywhere.

With a finger, Ghost had traced these images of himself. He marveled at how Soap had made him look so soft. In the mirror, all Ghost saw of himself was sharp edges and severe angles. He saw no gentleness in his scarred form. But Soap clearly saw him otherwise.

Soap had a preference of what kind of journal he used. These weren’t bargain bin notepads. Each journal Soap had bought while on leave, visiting a small artisan shop in town where each leatherbound journal was handmade. He would usually buy enough to hold him over until his next leave, whenever he estimated that may be.

But due to a scheduling error, Soap’s latest leave had been pushed back to an indeterminate time and his last journal was full. And it was frustrating the hell out of him. Soap was desperate for a relief to the mounting thoughts in his head. Bar and restaurant napkins were far from a sufficient replacement. Ghost didn’t want to see his Johnny in such a state.

So, he had set out to plan a mission. One that would benefit Soap’s creative output and where Ghost would force himself to be more open. The idea left him a bit shaky, but he wanted to do this. For them both.

--

Soap was freshly showered when he walked into the bedroom wearing only sweatpants. Ghost looked up from where he sat on their bed, eyes momentarily fixated on how the sweatpants clung to damp skin in all the right places.

“Like what you see?” Soap chuckled, the lieutenant’s gaze all too obvious. He bent down and nuzzled his cheek to Ghost’s in greeting. His skin was still warm and the stubble catching on Ghost’s mask created delicious friction between them.

“Always,” Ghost murmured. Soap placed a chaste kiss to his temple and sat across from him on the bed.

“What’ve you got there?” The sergeant nodded at a box that rested casually in Ghost’s lap.

Ghost contemplated the box. He had no idea how Soap would react. Would he think it’s stupid? Have a good laugh with Gaz later, telling him how ridiculous Simon Riley was to think of something like this? But Ghost was a man who followed through with each mission. He had planned this and would see it through to the end. He was a good soldier. And he wanted to be an even better lover, the softer man Soap envisioned in his art.

“A gift for you.”

“A gift?” Soap’s eyes lit up immediately, though it didn’t ease Ghost’s nerves any. The lieutenant was a man of few words and an unstoppable force of the battlefield, but Soap had come to know the tenderness Ghost was capable of, in his words and his touch. But a gift, this was a first in their relationship.

Soap took the offered box and balanced it on a knee. Inside were several jars of brightly colored liquid. He withdrew one and gave it a shake. It jiggled some, but that didn’t help identify the contents. Next, he gave it a quick whiff. Was that fruit?

“Lime?” Soap questioned, looking a little bemused.

“It’s body paint,” Ghost clarified. His voice came across a bit sheepish. “I made it. It’s…edible.”

“Edible body paint,” Soap repeated. Ghost could see the gears turning slowly in Soap’s mind. His next move helped to grease those gears.

Ghost began to tug his hoodie and undershirt over his head. He felt like he was peeling away so many layers of himself that had accumulated over the years.

“I noticed your last journal was full. Your art is an expression of your soul. It’s a part of you, a damn beautiful part of you. You miss sketching. And I miss your art.” Ghost tossed his clothing aside and laid back with his legs coming to rest on either side of the sergeant, hooking his heels just beneath Soap’s ass to coax him forward and atop him. Soap followed effortlessly. “I know painting isn’t your preferred medium, and this body isn’t high quality material. It’s been scorched and torn, stapled and taped back together repeatedly. But, if just for tonight, I hope this body can suffice as your canvas.”

Ghost watched Soap’s face, waiting for any minute shift in his features- a furrowing of the brow, a wrinkling of his nose in disgust, anything to tell the lieutenant that this was a bad idea. Behind the mask, his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Fucking beautiful, Si,” Soap breathed and the tension in Ghost’s body bled away. The Scotsman raked his eyes slowly down Ghost’s chest, over his clavicle, the gentle swell of his breasts, the curve of each muscle that built the solid wall that was Ghost’s frame. Soap traced him deliberately with his eyes and Ghost could swear he felt his gaze as if it were a physical caress.

“You like it?” Ghost’s voice was uncharacteristically small.

“I love it.”

“I’m sorry there’s not much room to draw,” Ghost spoke, referencing the scars carved into his flesh, the agony inflicted on him by other’s hands. “These marks can’t be erased, no matter how hard I’ve tried.”

“Aye, some art is indelible. But sometimes art is about taking what you already have and redesigning it. Telling new stories with it.”

“There are…a lot of stories here.”

“Think of them more as individual words and write a new story. Sometimes it’s easiest to write from past experiences.”

Ghost had enough of his past experiences. Saw them written on his skin every day he looked in the mirror. Soap could make something new from them, something he could smile or laugh about instead of flinching away when he touched himself.

“Can you tell me some of your stories?”

Soap searched Ghost’s chest for a starting point and zeroed in on an old keloid scar along his ribs. He grabbed a jar of white paint and dipped a finger in before bringing it to his lips and licking a long, slow line up the digit, Ghost’s eyes wide. He pushed the digit past his lips down to the knuckle, sucking hard and loud.

“Coconut,” Soap hummed, his finger now nice and wet. He dipped it in the paint again and began to doodle along the scar like his little show hadn’t left Ghost breathing harder.

“When I was a kid, maybe nine or ten, my family went skiing.” Soap sketched the outline of a mountain range along the raised scar. “I was nervous as hell. I’d never been skiing, let alone up in the mountains. Well, I didn’t make it very far up the mountain. Broke my fucking leg first thing.”

“Did you hit a tree?”

“Nope!” Soap laughed. He capped the mountains with snow. “I couldn’t sit still on the ski lift. Was kicking my legs and I slid right off the damn thing! Wasn’t a huge drop, but it was enough.”

“Ruined the family vacation.”

“It wasn’t all bad. When I got out of the hospital, mom brought me to get ice cream.” Soap bent forward and dragged his tongue along the creamy mountain range he’d drawn. The sudden wet heat had Ghost sucking in a breath. The sergeant smirked against the fluttering muscles beneath and suckled a red mark into the skin beside the scar. “It was delicious.”

Next, the tease of a man eyed a cluster of knife marks. He scooped some of the green, lime-flavored paint onto a fingertip and began to draw the outline of a box from the ends of several scars.

“A bit further back from the ski incident, there was a Christmas my parents thought I had disappeared. Christmas morning rolls around and I’m nowhere to be seen. They said they started to freak out, but all the doors and windows in the place were locked so I couldn’t have gotten out.” Soap switched to purple, grape, and doodled little swirls and stars into the box, making a present complete with bow. “They found me a while later, curled up inside one of the presents. A large box at the back of the tree with a giant teddy bear. I’d gone snooping earlier that night and crawled inside with the bear and apparently fell asleep.

“Somewhere at my parents house there’s a picture of me curled up in tissue paper around a big ol’ teddy.”

The sergeant swept away the present as quickly as it was drawn, tickling the nest of old wounds with kisses and nipping. He tasted it all, lime and grape and beneath it all, Ghost, a man he had longed to taste this way.

Soap shimmied up the larger man and pressed a kiss to Ghost’s masked lips, kissing with fervor as if the mask were nonexistent. Ghost was pressing back, trying to capture the sergeant’s lips. When they parted Soap noticed the absolute mess he had made of the man’s mask. It was now smeared with body paint, Soap’s own face sporting a similar look.

“Ah shit. Sorry, Si,” Soap apologized. Ghost was smiling though, the corners of his eyes crinkled with a joy he hardly let himself experience.

“Don’t worry, Johnny. I would have stopped you if I didn’t want it.”

“Ghost,” Soap murmured and pushed in for another kiss, sloppier and more awkward than last but nonetheless exciting.

“Do you want to hear more?”

“Please,” Ghost sighed, almost breathless.

Ghost propped himself up slightly, watching Soap’s work with fascination, the quick, fluid motions of his fingers dancing along his skin, weaving stories out of scarring both new and old. Tales from his childhood, family gatherings and holiday mishaps that had them both laughing and leaving Ghost a bit envious of those joys he never got to experience. The many times Soap had almost blown himself up as a cocky new recruit. Things he had seen while on missions, both benign and unbelievable.

“You did not see a UFO!” Ghost challenged, trying not to moan as Soap worked over a perked nipple, drawing what he remembered of the flying object.

“Swear on my life I did! Damn thing probably would have abducted me if I hadn’t squeezed off a few shots at it.”

“You said you hadn’t slept for three days. Not only were you hallucinating, you gave away your field position!”

“But the aliens didn’t abduct me.”

“Fucking hell, you’re stupid!” Ghost laughed.

When Soap wasn’t chattering away, his mouth was full of Simon, the lieutenant’s flesh reddened with bite marks and hickeys sucked into tender spots. He worked his tongue along every rise and dip of Ghost’s abdomen, taking his sweet time to learn his partner’s body. Where to scratch with fingernails to elicit a repressed moan, or where to tug with teeth that had Ghost’s hips rolling. Soap peppered kisses amidst the trail of blonde hair that disappeared into the waistband of Ghost’s pants, fingers scratching down his sides. Ghost was left quivering.

Ghost’s eyes fluttered open when he felt fingers slip into the waistband of his pants. He didn’t remember shutting them. Soap was looking up at him, his chin resting on the other man’s navel, his cheeks bright with a rainbow of paint. He was asking permission to delve further south. He nodded and Soap all too enthusiastically made short work of the lieutenant’s pants.

Simon’s thighs were no less scarred than the rest of him. Pink and pale lines were carved into the creamy surface. A burn scar here. A shrapnel wound there. A bullet wound that had carved a small chunk of Simon’s outer thigh away.

Here Soap paused his artwork, instead wanting to taste Ghost pure. He followed the curvature of muscles from knee to groin, breath hot on the rarely exposed flesh. He made each scar sloppy with wet kisses and dragged teeth down the inner thigh, biting his own marks into Simon, claiming the man.

Ghost’s breathing quickened. Over the rise and fall of his chest, he could just make out the mohawk moving as Soap devoured him. He reached down, his hand finding the ridge of hair and grasping. Soap growled low and pressed sucking kisses dangerously close to the clothed dick.

Then Soap bit down hard, growling Simon’s name hungrily against the tender flesh and Ghost practically yanked the Scot away, Soap eliciting a rather undignified moan at the movement. He held the ravenous man at a distance to catch his breath, admiring how absolutely debauched the sergeant looked. Ghost mused he probably looked worse.

“You’re like a fucking leech.”

Soap chuckled and wiped spit from his lips with the back of his hand.

“You taste so fucking good, Simon.”

Ghost released Soap, the sergeant sitting back to admire his work. Ghost’s body was a smattering of colors, most scars now hidden beneath a layer of paint. Designs had been doodled, licked clean, drawn anew and licked away again. Over and over again from neck to navel.

“You look like a fucking treasure, Simon. Beautiful, ornate.”

“Well, you have the hands of an artisan.”

“Aye, I’m pretty good. But I bet you’re capable of making a masterpiece too.”

Ghost made a questioning hum. The only thing he was good at making were bodies drop. His sewing skills weren’t complete shit, though.

“Simon,” Soap breathed and hooked a finger beneath the edge of his mask and tugged. He guided the lieutenant to switch positions, Soap now shaded comfortably in the larger man’s shadow. He angled Ghost’s head down to whisper against clothed lips. “I want you to touch me. Make me beautiful.”

“I can’t improve what’s already a masterpiece.” Soap was all solid muscle and dark hair. Bright eyes that warmed Ghost’s soul. He was strength when Ghost needed to feel weak.

“Ghost. Simon. Will you touch me?” Soap’s palms rested on his cheeks.

“I don’t have heartwarming tales to regale you with. Nothing funny or feel-good.”

“Then tell me something that you want to happen.”

Ghost contemplated the jars of paint. Of all the colors, red and yellow were still mostly full. Soap had steered clear of red, averse to staining Ghost’s skin the color of blood.

Yellow though. A color Ghost heavily associated with spring and new beginnings. Sunshine. Johnny was his sunshine on the darkest days.

Didn’t hurt that it tasted like pineapple.

“Something that I want,” Ghost mused, dipping a finger into the paint and beginning to draw along Soap’s collarbone. “I’ve found myself thinking about retirement more often lately. To be honest, the thought of leaving active service scares the shit outta me. I think I might lose a part of me that day. There’d be nothing to tether me to reality. But if I had someone to keep me grounded, someone who knew that feeling too, we might make it through together.”

“What kind of someone are you looking for? Someone you intend to keep around?”

“Someone for the long haul.” Ghost teased the swell of a pec and down over a nipple, bending to brush his nose against the other. Soap sighed and pressed his head back into the pillow. “Someone who is the first thing I see that day. Someone I want to curl around on cold mornings, their body like a damn furnace. And I’m cold because they like to steal the blankets in the night and somehow keep one while tossing the rest on the floor.”

Ghost worked his hand through dark curls of chest hair, making no effort to draw any specific design, just wanting to mark Johnny.

“I want someone who can cook an amazing breakfast and yet still manage to brew an absolute dogshit cup of tea.”

“That was one time,” Soap grumbled.

“But I choke it down because I love them.”

Ghost clawed at Soap’s stomach, fingertips tracing the sergeant’s own scars, concealing them in paint. He painted the dark hair that disappeared into Soap’s sweatpants. The sergeant’s hips rolled up, eager for more, but Ghost pulled back and instead buried his face into Soap’s belly, rubbing his cheeks and pressing masked kisses into the fluttering abdominal muscles.

“Want someone who has my six, and every other time of day. Who gives me their all and expects nothing in return, when they deserve it all and more. Someone who has all the patience in the world for a slow sod like me to come around.

“Just someone I can love unconditionally.” Ghost spread paint over the palm of his hand and pressed it over Soap’s heart.

“Sounds like a lot to ask of one person,” Soap smiled sweetly and his hand brushed over Ghost’s skull. “Do you have anyone particular in mind?”

Ghost closed the distance between their frames, grinding his body into Soap’s as he came up to meet the sergeant’s face. He pulled away his mask and tossed it to the floor.

“I love you, Johnny.”

They kissed soft and slow, hands buried in hair, their bodies feeling as though they were melding into one.

“I love you, Si,” Soap whispered against the other’s lips when they broke apart.

Ghost hunkered down atop Soap and nuzzled his face into Soap’s throat. The Scot held him tightly, one hand idly toying with his hair.

“Our hands are filthy, so I’ll let you grab it later, but I hid a second present in your bedside drawer.”

“Oh? You engaged on a stealth mission?”

“Sort of,” Ghost chuckled. “I ordered a few new journals from your favorite hometown shop.”

“You beautiful bastard!”

#ghostsoap #soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #ralith's fanfiction #fanfiction

[gorgugplushie]

BAD KIDS GAMING HCS

Nobody asked but i cant stop thinking abt it so

Fabian - canonically doesn't know what mobile games are, much less actual videogames. He sort of sees them as pointless (why do quests and adventures in a videogame when he could just do them in real life?) Of course the bad kids pull him into their gaming sessions, though he spends most of them asking what the controls are again and raising an eyebrow at their shenanigans. Ragh sits him down and makes him play some sport based video games which he does enjoy, he can get really into it if you give him time (he yells so so loud) he also gets into ddr style games bc he likes beating the other bdkds at them. Videogames are a good excuse to hang but he'd rather go out and play football irl.

Kristen - coming from a heavily sheltered and what i assume monitored family, kristen probablyyy isnt all that into videogames. At most i think she'd have some mobile games like idk candy crush on her phone, like fabian she'd get confused and spend her in game time running around and just watching the others play, she goes along w the others shenanigans v easily tho and loves doing silly bits while playing.

Riz - Riz is the type to play window games on their families shared computer for hours on end. Stuff like sudoku, pinballs, or solitaire. He'd love those games like the nancy drew mystery ones, or those games where you find items like I Spy. The only downside is he gets unhealthily fixated and will spend 3 days getting to lvl 100+ on Tetris if you let him, obsessed w 100% games and making funny number go up. Surprisingly good at rhythm games.

Adaine - into open world games, like fallout or outerwilds. Will spend days writing and churning out backstory and lore for her in game character. Veryyy picky and wants every decision to be true to their newest ocs backstory, will spend a solid hour on the character creation screen. She also loves more violent shooting games, although playing online with strangers gives her anxiety and she cannn get gamer rage, she'll get fixated on getting stuff like headshots and Winning and Being a good teammate that she'll start shaking and have to step away from playing for a bit. Single player fighting games w blood where she can turn her brain off and just fight are more cathartic for her. I feel like she ends up doing insane shit in them like saw and hack off limbs and go full dark story mode route and then regret it so so much and lie awake at night not sleeping bc of it and delete the save file. Its her dark secret shell take to the grave.

Fig - plays a large range of games, mainly more colorful and silly goofy ones she can play with the badkids. Shes sort of a little nuisance in games tho, she will troll and grief a lil bc she finds it funny. In singleplayer games she does love being a huge stinker and do silly stuff like pickpocket and get caught or accidentally set a bomb off in the middle of a cutscene or glitch her character to a-pose, she does a bunch of shit and laughs and doesn't take it seriously at all. Like adaine she also gets gamer rage. she gets them both banded from online for a month bc they team up to cast a spell on someone thru the screen. LOVESS shit like guitar hero and skater games sooo much, also into those wwe type games. Cant stomach horror at all but will make the rest of the kids sit down and play horror games w her so they can laugh and scream together.

Gorgug - he tends to like more older games, say in the style of star fox/loz and stuff. His parents gave him and older gaming system when he was younger n he still has it around and collects games for it, its seeing a lot more use than it originally did bc now he has friends to play with. The type of guy to still carry their ds around. I feel like hed also modify and rom hack stuff for his friends. He likes going to the arcade in person and playing there than sitting in front of a computer.

Ayda - yes im including her shes a gamer girl in my heart. I feel like she loves life sims/complex puzzle games, stuff like slime rancher, portal, animal crossing. She has 1000+ hours into a single sims save file. She spends hours and hours building and working on the most elaborate farming system for whatever new sim shes getting invested in. She especially loves organizing in games, she gets a bit antsy playing more survival based games with the bad kids because they leave their systems so unorganized (shes def the type to redo the entire base from top to bottom in dont starve while the rest die off screen). neat and orderly decoration is soo fun for her and the bad kids try not to step on her turf too much. refuses to play multiplayer if it's with anyone else but the badkids, but if anyone would start a gaming channel its her. will do obscenely gay cutesy stuff w fig n game. They build their own little base and junk and pretend to hosts weddings n stuff. Shes also very into speed running and breaking games with glitches to figure out how they work.

#fh #fantasy high #gorgug txt.

[bvannn]

Weekly Update March 15, 2024

Something is wrong with me today, but I’m not sure what. I’m keeping an eye on what I suspect it may be, although it’s more likely a sleep related problem. I’ll try to get to bed early tonight. I did a good amount of artstuffs this week, though.

First real significant thing I did this week was record a bunch of melodies for songs and covers. I’m getting somewhere on the main cover I’m working on, and I’ll be tweaking the vocals hopefully soon and possibly posting a WIP once they’re acceptable. I think I will need to chop up the wav file and add effects only to specific notes to add more bite, since vocaloid seems to not really be able to do that. That’s fine I’m a smart person sometimes I can get around it.

Other instrumental songs are going well too. Made good progress on an old Zelda medley/cover I’d been working on, and another instrumental character theme has a good outline. I’ll try to really push for them soon, and once I get the Zelda one done I’ll poke at mechanical license websites to see how bad pricing is and see what songs are even available. The vocal cover should be, since it’s from a mainstream band, but I don’t know if video game music will be available, we’ll see. I might also go in for more recording tonight to see if a bit of movement/exercise would help whatever physical problem I’m having today.

I also have been having awful insomnia, which I’ve been using the time to try chipping away at lyrics for the two ‘vocal’ songs I’m done with otherwise. I’m sitting down and doing one section per session, so with any luck I can get those done soon too.

Drawings are also going well enough. I’m getting weirdly self conscious about my art, since I haven’t really seen a lot of growth in interaction on any of the sites I post to except here. Thank you guys for sticking with me! I’m trying to pull myself together to do more small drawings, so you guys have a bit more to look at for now, although I also have been chipping away at that comic still. I need to write/thumbnail 2 more scenes and edit, then I should be good to make actual pages.

Aside from the initial pitch comic I’m thinking about the outlines for the rest of the stories a bit more now. I get anxious when I get insomnia so I’ve been trying to just write in general, so I can at least be productive with the time, and that’s included lyric stuff, TTRPG stuff, and a lot of OC story stuff. I’m always afraid to lore dump on here unless I’m explicitly asked, for fear of coming off as annoying, but all things considered people seem to like the posts that include lore a bit better so my fear is probably unfounded. Perhaps I will do more on my own, but if you ever really want lore never be afraid to send an ask. I also tag the names of my reoccurring OCs so people can search my blog for them if they want to see more of any specific character.

Also speaking of writing, am still chipping away at an Anime Campaign/Epithet TTRPG game. I put up a poll on the epithet subreddit, which was a cleverly disguised way to gauge interest in an epithet pre-written campaign, since people are more likely to interact with a poll than to upvote a post. There were fourty something people who responded, almost unanimously positively. I might throw another one up there to see how many would actually be interested in DMing, but if feedback comes back positive I might turn what I’ve been working on into a prewritten module for others to run as well. That’d also be a fun writing project, which will be nice because writing is lower effort and lets me rest more, and rest is what I think I need right now.

Good amount of stuff got done this week despite me being in generally poor health. I will try to get better. Focusing on more writing stuff with smaller drawings like headshots will try to be the focus for next week.

#weekly update

[photographeril]

Unlock visual excellence: The clear advantages of hiring a professional photographer

In a world where images reign supreme, both personal and business realms benefit immensely from the deft touch of a professional photographer. Gone are the days when photography was just a simple click of a button; today, it's about crafting visual stories that resonate. Dive into the myriad benefits that a professional photographer brings to the table for private and business clients alike.

The Professional Edge

Why Opt for a Professional Photographer?

Skill and Expertise: Professionals come equipped with the skills to handle various lighting and scene complexities that average photographers might not navigate successfully.

Quality Equipment: High-quality cameras, lenses, and editing software mean superior end products.

Personalized Visual Storytelling

For Private Clients:

Memorable Moments: Photographers capture life's milestones — weddings, graduations, and family portraits — with a personal touch.

Artistic Flair: From photo sessions for engagements to newborns, each shoot is imbued with artistic expression that reflects your personality.

Elevating Business Branding

For Business Clients:

Brand Image: A professional photographer can encapsulate your brand's message in every shoot, reinforcing your market position.

Marketing Material: Photo sessions for products, services, or corporate headshots help create compelling marketing collateral.

Advantages Across the Spectrum

Whether for personal keepsakes or business marketing, professional photography offers:

Customization: Tailored photo shoots to suit individual or business-specific needs.

Visual Consistency: Cohesive imagery that aligns with personal desires or brand identity.

Choosing the Right Photographer

Key considerations include:

Portfolio Review: Ensure their previous work aligns with your vision.

Client Testimonials: Positive reviews often reflect reliability and quality.

Conclusion: A Snapshot to Success

Be it capturing the tender moments of a family reunion or presenting a corporate brand in its best light, a professional photographer is the bridge between average images and visual masterpieces.

Invest in professional photo sessions and let the expertise of a seasoned photographer elevate your visual narrative to new heights.

#photography #photoart #photographer

[danbusler]

The Susan Cattaneo Band at The Extended Play Sessions

Award winning singer - songwriter Susan Cattaneo at The Fallout Shelter

The Susan Cattaneo Band at The Extended Play Sessions – Fallout Shelter in Norwood, MA on January 13, 2024.The band features Susan Cattaneo, Peter Moore, Andy Santospago, Chris Anzalone, and Joe McMahon.“Best Americana Artist in the Boston Music Awards”, amazing Songwriter, and #1 on the Billboard Heatseekers chart are just some of the accolades Susan has received. This was a night filled with…

View On WordPress

#bill hurley #black and white photographer #Black and White photography #boston event photographer #commercial photographer near me #dan busler #dan busler photography #family photographer near me #headshot near me #headshot photographer near me #live music near me #live performance photographer #local photographer #Norwood Headshot photographer #personal branding photographer near me #photographer near me #professional photographer #susan cattaneo #the extended play sessions #walpole headshot photographer #walpole photographer

[sortedmediaseo]

Picture-Perfect Moments: Finding the Right Photographer in Brisbane

Introduction

In a world awash with fleeting digital images, the significance of capturing timeless moments cannot be overstated. Whether you're celebrating a milestone, seeking to immortalize a special day, or aiming to elevate your brand, the role of a skilled photographer is paramount. If you find yourself in Brisbane, you're in luck because this vibrant city is home to a plethora of talented photographers. In this blog, we will explore the art of finding the right photographer in Brisbane, with a touch of insight from Sortedmedia, your partner in digital visibility.

Sortedmedia: Navigating the Digital Landscape

You understand the power of digital visibility. Sortedmedia shares your vision in assisting professionals, like photographers in Brisbane, to make their mark online. Our collaboration with photographers spans across major Australian cities, including Canberra, Adelaide, Perth, and Melbourne, connecting their creative talents with a broader audience.

Photographer Canberra: Just a hop, skip, and jump away from Brisbane, Canberra boasts its own unique photography scene. Whether it's capturing the architectural marvels of the capital or the scenic landscapes of the Australian bush, Canberra photographers bring their own distinct flair to the craft.

Photographer in Adelaide: Head south, and you'll discover a thriving arts community in Adelaide. Photographers in Adelaide infuse their work with the city's rich cultural heritage and the natural beauty of South Australia. They offer a fresh perspective and a diverse range of styles.

Photographer in Perth: On the west coast, Perth's photographers are known for their ability to blend urban landscapes with the tranquility of the Indian Ocean. Their work often captures the essence of this unique city, making it a distinctive addition to the Australian photography landscape.

Photographer Melbourne: Melbourne, with its eclectic blend of cultures and vibrant street scenes, is a photographer's paradise. Photographers in Melbourne thrive on diversity and creativity, producing visuals that often push the boundaries of traditional photography.

The Quest for the Right Photographer in Brisbane

Now, let's focus on finding the perfect photographer in Brisbane to capture your moments, whether they are personal or professional.

Wedding Photographer Brisbane: For the most important day of your life, you need a wedding photographer who understands your vision and can encapsulate the magic. Brisbane offers a range of wedding photographers, each with a unique style and approach. Sortedmedia assists in making sure their portfolios shine online, helping you find the perfect match for your special day.

Portrait Photographer Brisbane: Whether you're seeking a family portrait, individual headshot, or a creative session, Brisbane's portrait photographers excel in capturing personality and emotions. Our SEO strategies ensure that when you search for a portrait photographer in Brisbane, you're met with top-notch talent.

Commercial Photographer Brisbane: In a thriving business hub like Brisbane, commercial photographers play a pivotal role in branding and marketing. They understand the art of storytelling through visuals. Sortedmedia ensures that businesses looking for a photographer in Brisbane to boost their online presence find the right match.

Sortedmedia: Amplifying Your Online Presence

In the digital age, a strong online presence is indispensable for photographers. Whether you're in Brisbane, Canberra, Adelaide, Perth, or Melbourne, Sortedmedia can assist in optimizing your website and increasing your visibility. We ensure that when potential clients search for keywords like "photographer in Brisbane,

Conclusion

Finding the right photographer in Brisbane is a quest for perfection, a journey to encapsulate cherished moments, and a search for the artistic connection that will breathe life into your vision. Brisbane's vibrant photography community, in collaboration with Sortedmedia, is ready to capture your picture-perfect moments. You understand the importance of digital visibility, and Sortedmedia stands by your side to amplify the online presence of photographers across Australia, one click at a time. Your moments are waiting to be captured; let Brisbane's photographers and Sortedmedia help you make them timeless.

#photographers in brisbane #photographer in canberra #photographer in perth #photography studio melbourne

[ronalddweissphotography]

Visual Poetry in the Empire State: Discovering Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY

Introduction:

In the heartbeat of the Empire State, where each moment is a stanza waiting to be written, Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY emerges as a maestro of visual poetry. Navigating the lens through the diverse narratives of New York, the studio’s website at https://ronalddweissphotographyny.com/ unfolds a captivating tapestry that transcends conventional photography. Join us as we embark on a journey through the artistic lens of Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY, where every frame tells a unique story of life in the Empire State.

## Crafting Visual Narratives in New York

### A Symphony of Diversity

### Professionalism in Every Pixel

In the bustling rhythm of New York’s business world, professionalism is key. Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY’s corporate services go beyond capturing images — they encapsulate professionalism and authenticity. From individual headshots to expansive event coverage, the studio speaks the language of success in the Empire State.

### Lifestyle Chronicles: Urban Elegance

Life in New York is a canvas of everyday elegance, and Ronald’s lens transforms the ordinary into extraordinary visual tales. From the energy of urban living to moments of personal reflection, lifestyle photography with the studio captures the essence of life in the Empire State.

## Crafting Timeless Love Stories

### Wedding Elegance in the Empire State

Your wedding day, against the iconic backdrop of New York, deserves to be more than just documented — it deserves to be crafted into a timeless love story. Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY’s wedding services are a poetic journey, capturing the nuances, emotions, and jubilant celebrations that make each love story unique.

## A Fusion of Artistry and Precision

### The Artisan’s Touch

Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY is a fusion of artistry and precision. Each photograph is a masterpiece, crafted with meticulous attention to detail. The studio’s commitment to excellence is evident in every aspect, from the initial consultation to the final, elegantly composed image.

### Tailored Services for Every Tale

The studio understands that each story is unique. From weddings to family milestones, corporate endeavors to lifestyle captures, Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY offers tailored services that resonate with the essence of each narrative.

## Navigating the Website: A Visual Odyssey

### Portfolio Exploration

The website becomes a portal to explore the studio’s portfolio — a visual odyssey through weddings, family moments, corporate events, and the everyday life of the Empire State. Each photograph is a poetic expression of New York’s soul.

### Service Offerings and Insights

Detailed information on services and insights into the studio’s approach provides transparency for clients. Whether planning a wedding, a family portrait session, or corporate photography, the website ensures clients are well-informed and can make choices aligned with their vision.

## Conclusion:

Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY, as unveiled on https://ronalddweissphotographyny.com/, invites you to experience the Empire State’s heartbeat through the lens of a master visual poet. Every click is not just a photograph; it’s a poetic verse of life in New York — captured, celebrated, and immortalized.

Explore the website to witness the artistry, professionalism, and commitment to excellence that define Ronald D. Weiss Photography NY. Consider the studio for your next visual storytelling project, where each photograph becomes a verse in the poetic tapestry of life in the Empire State.

#ronald d. weiss photography #ronald d weiss

[supremepicturesgallery]

Professional Headshot Photography in Mississauga

Get professional headshot photography in Mississauga at Supreme Picture Gallery. Elevate your professional image with our expert headshot photographer capturing your essence with precision. Each session is a personalized experience, ensuring your unique character shines. Trust Supreme Picture Gallery for unparalleled headshot photography in Mississauga—where art meets professionalism.

#headshot photography in Mississauga #headshot photography

[someone-always-cares]

chapter 5, page 33

first - previous - next

[image description: an sac webcomic page. “Uh, hi mind if I ask you both a few questions?” Lewis asks, approaching the two mint-coloured hair people in the back. “Not at all, take a seat! The name’s Parker, but you can call me Theo.” smiles the man on the couch, patting the spot next to him with a grin. “Hey, kid, your friend already came by here” says the other person. “Always have to ruin my fun, huh, Izumi? Ignore my ward, I insist you ask anyway, kid.” says Parker, sending Izumi a dirty look, the panel having some shadow over both of them. Parker is a white man with mint hair, parted down the middle and coming down to about the bottom of his ears. he has some facial hair and pale eyes. he’s wearing a long brown coat, grey trousers, a very dark green shirt, unbottoned at the top to show chest hair, and some mint ribbons wound across his torso. additionally, while not shown in this page he has brown leather shoes. Izumi is not shown in details, he is an asian man with long mint hair, only a shade lighter than Parker’s, pale skin, a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up, green trousers, solid mint eyes with a darker green spiral, and while not shown in this page, he has black boots, and his shirt says “let me sleep”. end id]

the problem with designing characters before deciding where they show up is that you can pick out a bunch of them to be in one room only to realise you gave like, 3 of them pretty much the same haircut. i mean really, out of all my ocs in any story, these 3 are the only ones who have that haircut and then they all show up same scene

[id: headshots of Parker, Pepillion, and smog. end id]

fuckers. at least smog has thicker hair so its less obvious. anyway how’re yall doing today, i keep trying to give my dog a haircut but am having to do in in sessions because he doesnt like it

#sac #someone always cares #webcomic #webcomics #Original Work #i mean i get it dog but please the more you try and walk away the longer it will take #hes very calm he just would rather not #anyway the hair thing probably isnt as bad as i think as im just the guy that made them so i notice this more #and they look different otherwise anyway

[goldcoastphotographer]

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[peterwaldphoto]

Looking for the best headshot photographers in NYC? Look no further! Our team of experienced professionals is dedicated to capturing your unique personality and style in stunning headshots. With state-of-the-art equipment and a keen eye for detail, we'll provide you with the highest-quality images that make you stand out from the crowd. Whether you're a performer, executive, or entrepreneur, trust us to help you elevate your professional image with the best headshots in NYC. Book your session today and let us bring out the best in you! https://www.peterwaldphotography.com/headshots

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[alfredtangphoto]

In-home newborn lifestyle session // Baby Andreas, The Eriksons

When I first started my photography business, I set to carve out my brand to be one of telling emotionally-invoking stories of human connections through photographs that stood the test of time. Connection session (aka engagement sessions) and weddings helped fulfilled this and thus steered my brand towards this portion of the market. But as I watched my clients and friends add members to their families, and as I thought about my own childhood and relationship with my mother, I began to realize something I’ve already known: having and raising children in it’s own is a different type of emotional love story that is usually unconditional. And one, where both parents learn a lot more about themselves and one another. These new parents are literally carrying out the words spoken during their wedding vows of committing to being by each other’s side on “this crazy journey called life”.

“Children are the reintroduction of the unsullied paradise of being.” - Dr. Jordan Peterson

All this to say that this is why I don’t advertise family sessions as they’re typically the standard family-posed type of shots that doesn’t really tell an emotionally invoking story that “fits my brand” (but still are important to the family!). These sessions are typically reserved for previous wedding clients, friends or from personal referrals. But then, an email from Helena’s mother led to a session that would alter the way I viewed the interpretation of my brand and my journey of telling love stories.

I’ve worked with Helena & Jasper a number of times, documenting some of their most special life events (even took Jasper’s headshot for his med school application!), so when I was presented the opportunity to document the new addition to their family, I was ecstatic! Not just because Helena & Jasper are sweet and awesome people who deserve nothing but the best, but because becoming new parents is a very transformational pivot point in their lives - teaching you things about life and love that no other life experiences can. I wanted to document the beginning of this unconditional love and bond with their 8-week old human.

Let me tell you, this half hour session was one of the most sweet, tender and magical moments I’ve ever had the privilege to witness. I won’t say why as I hope the images from this in-home newborn lifestyle session will do all the talking. Thank you Helena & Jasper for inviting me into your home and photographing another intimate and pivotal point in your lives. You guys will be the best parents and I already know Andreas will be the best big brother other siblings will be jealous of!

“The family you create is more important than the family you came from.” I said what I said! While this statement is subjective and debatable, there’s an awful lot of truth in it.

If you have enjoyed this Portland newborn lifestyle session, I’d appreciate a comment or a share! If you’re interested in working together on your family session, click the button below to get in touch with me!

#newborn #in-home session #family photography #first born #Portland family photographer