#g cool looking who designed that

[bisexualize]

I ALSO WATCHED NOPE ON THE PLANE!!! that movie was insane. it scared the shit out of me in the first half and in the second half it wasnt scary at all but still really interesting. i love it when movies are about seeing/watching/spectacle its like a microcosm of the film industry. also when jupe was like haha watch the snl version of my extremely traumatic experience... my god. and when OJ and emerald did the I SEE YOU sign to each other...

[dorkicon]

iron leaguer human au, or as i like to call it....regular sports anime...?

[hoshiszora-archived]

Part of me wanting to get into HSR, but as cool as HSR looks I'm... likely not even gonna bother with it

[wannaeatramyeon]

Your Adventures as the Lookismverse Designer

G/N. Run-ins with Burn Knuckles, Goddog, Allied and Big Deal. Masterlists

Being in the Fashion department, you had assumed your classmates had a passion for fashion. For god's sake, it's in the name.

But no, you're wrong.

Apart from using it as an excuse to wear designer brands from head to toe, no one really gave a shit.

No one cared about the history, about design, fabrication, construction.

No one... apart from you that is.

.

.

Your first client wasn't really someone you could say no to unless you had a death wish.

When the whole of the Architecture department shows up along with Vasco, their terrifying leader, you consider running off and screaming.

It was only Jace Park, who seemed to understand a more subtle approach and how intimidating they looked, that stopped you from wanting to flee to the teacher.

(Strange. You actually don't recall seeing your teacher for months.)

"Please," Jace murmurs to Vasco and he's practically begging. "You didn't need to turn up with everyone. Just leave this to me. Please."

If you didn't know better, you would think Vasco was giving him grateful puppy eyes. But that can't be right. He's a thug.

"Sorry," Jace turns to you, looking contrite and fiddling anxiously with his big ears when you're finally on your own. "Are you the Fashion Designer?"

It should have been a stupid question, considering you're in the Fashion Department.

Except you look around at the so-called boxer who pitifully simps after the brunette all day, the rich blonde kid who never talks to anyone, the other girl who is an aspiring streamer and you sigh to yourself.

"Yes, that's me."

.

.

All things considered, the Burn Knuckles are very easy to please.

It's a design printed on some pre-made boilersuits, not exactly avant garde.

You did touch up the logo though and provided some more clothing options than requested. Boilersuits in a small selection of colours, bomber and leather jackets.

When you hand over the boxes to Vasco and Jace, the latter shakes your hand and the former stares at you with tears in his eyes and asks how they can ever repay you.

You shrug. Because he did already pay you for your time and the materials.

"Don't worry about it." You say, giving him a polite grin.

Vasco beams and you think maybe this guy isn't so scary.

.

.

.

.

Somehow your reputation precedes you.

To be honest you didn't even realise you had any sort of reputation until a guy with a messy mop head and two dogs corners you in an alleyway.

"I heard you're the Designer," he grunts.

A part of you thinks of fleeing once again. A smaller part of you thinks damn, that nickname is kinda cool.

"I am?"

"Don't play dumb. I know who you are."

You would have found him rude and menacing if not for his dogs picking that exact moment to roll around on the floor belly-up, desperately wanting some attention.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters though he squats down anyway to pat them. "So?" he continues, trying to regain his previous threatening aura even as the pups wriggle around under his touch.

"So what?"  you ask, not able to stop the smile creeping over your face at this adorable sight.

"I need some clothing."

.

.

Perhaps the Burn Knuckles gave you a false sense of bravado, thinking everyone would be as easy as them. Unfortunately, this guy is a goddamn headache.

He wants hoodies, which isn't an issue but he wants matching dog-sized ones and he wants you to design the logo from scratch too.

"But I don't do graphic design," you cry and he pretends he can't hear you.

On your twelfth iteration, he doesn't glare at it and praise the heavens; he's finally happy.

Well, happy is an overstatement. He doesn't exactly look happy but he's no longer glaring at you, so you assume in Johan Seong's world, that means he's exhilarated.

The hoodies fit, both Johan and the dogs, and the logo looks good too.

You wave goodbye to the back of all three. Your bank balance is healthier except you hope they never darken your doorstep again.

.

.

(You have no such luck. He returns, months later, requesting tracksuits.)

.

.

.

.

It's a sorry state of affairs when three of the members of Allied are part of the Fashion Department, and come to you asking for help.

"Why don't you design it yourself?" you ask Daniel Park, Zack Lee and Jay Hong.

They look at you like you've grown two heads.

.

.

You will be eternally grateful that Jay Hong is mute, that Vasco is actually the sweetest cinnamon roll, and Daniel Park is pretty easy-going because having Vin Jin and Zack Lee constantly bickering and criticising your design is bad enough.

Apparently these men are very adept fighters. Caught up in some gang shit. It didn't matter. You still wanted to ram your pen through their skulls.

Then throw in someone else called Hudson Ahn who also seems to like giving rude, overly critical comments concealed as constructive criticism -

You threatened to quit more than once.

.

.

Eventually, after staying awake for 46 hours - you all agree on a logo.

"Here." You thrust the USB drive with the files at Daniel Park.

"What do I do with this?"

"You're in the Fashion Department too." You rub at your tired eyes, patience long gone with these morons. "Find a clothing printer yourself. Search for it on the internet. You know what that is right? The internet?"

Somewhere to your right, Vin Jin bursts into laughter.

.

.

.

.

You can't decide if this guy is trying to sell you something or if you're actually falling in love with him by the second.

Hell, he could sell you some snake-oil and you're so charmed you don't mind.

"So, you'll do it?" he asks, holding your hands in his larger gloved ones and you feel yourself simpering like an idiot at the contact.

"Sure thing, Mr. Kim."

"Jake," he says, giving you a toothy grin. "I'm Jake. And this is Jerry."

"Who?"

"Jerry Kwon," A large hulking man steps up besides Jake, offering you a handshake.

What? How did you miss him? You didn't notice him at all.

"Oh. Uh. Of course. Nice to meet you too Jerry."

"Come here, guys." Jake signals for the other men hanging back to come forth. "Ths is Brad and Jerry and Lineman."

Shit. Damnit, you've been so fixated on Jake Kim that you ignored everyone else.

Hell. You didn't even realise there was anyone else.

"Hi," you say, wanting the ground to swallow you up and blushing furiously.

Jake catches your eye and gives you a wink.

.

.

Being completely honest, the Big Deal tracksuits aren't your best work.

You're not too sure on the logo design (though hey - that's not really your handiwork). The placement is a little awkward and the design is sort of plain.

You added gold elements to at least make it a bit more cohesive, and sourced extra durable fabrics with lots of movement as apparently the guys have a tendency to damage clothing during fights.

"What do you think?" Jake says, modelling your finalised version.

From the smile on his face, you could tell he's very much satisfied with your work.

"Looks great," you say and you're telling the truth. Although it's not really the tracksuit that looks great, but the man wearing it. His broad shoulders and tight waist, long muscular legs and-

Oops. You silently apologise for objectifying him.

The way your eyes rake over his form isn't subtle, though it's definitely flattering. Jake playfully throws another wink your way.

[tavolgisvist]

I was always interested in finding out what have happens on the photo. What gave them the idea of depict Paul's funeral: why the funeral, why Paul? Well…I have an answer, I suppose

More legendary than most, however, were a band briefly signed to Brian, the Big Three. Other musicians on the scene seemed to regard this band with awe. They were the original power trio, real sonic bruisers who’d built themselves the biggest amplifiers - nicknamed Coffins - that anyone had ever seen.

(Liverpool - Wondrous Place by Paul Du Noyer, 2002)

Epstein made his way to the Cavern club to see the group perform at a lunchtime session on November 9th. He wrote later that he had never seen anything like The Beatles on any stage. <…> "I loved their ad libs and I was fascinated by this, to me, new music with its pounding bass beat and its vast, engulfing sound." <…> The "pounding" bass that Epstein described was due in part to a new addition to The Beatles' equipment line-up. In the early 1960s there was really no such thing as a proper bass amplifier. Most bass players would use the most powerful guitar amplifier that they could get their hands on. But these were not designed for bass guitar, and did not provide the deep, throbbing bass tones that bass guitarists wanted. As The Beatles evolved their sound and Best perfected his "atomic beat" the group were searching for a stronger and more solid bass sound.

The band considered by many to be the loudest and most aggressive in Liverpool was The Big Three. They bad started out as Cass & The Cassanovas, a four-piece until leader and frontman Brian Casser left during the beginning of 1961. The remaining members stayed together to form The Big Three: Johnny Gustafson on bass, guitarist Adrian Barber, and Liverpool's loudest drummer, Johnny Hutchinson, on the skins.

Barber says that when they became a trio there was an instant problem: he and Gustafson weren't loud enough to project over Hutchinson's drumming. Even the relatively punchy Selmer Truvoice amp was not enough. Barber, however, had an interest in electronics from his days in the merchant navy. <…> Barber went out and bought a book about loudspeakers produced by G A Briggs, who owned the British Wharfedale speaker company, and inside he found construction details for various sizes of cabinets. "I decided on one, and Denis Kealing said he could get me a 15-inch speaker," recalls Barber. "I built a set-up for the bass guitar and for the vocal, in a cabinet about five feet tall by about 18 inches square. <…> I used that and mounted it in a metal ammunitions case, so we could carry it around without killing it. Johnny Gustafson used it as his bass amp, and it was very successful. "When we carried it we bad to lower it on its side, because it was long and skinny. The first time we took it down to the Cavern, we struggled down the tiny stairs there. As we carried this black-painted thing across the room it looked just like a coffin - and that's how it got its name: the Coffin. Now, the Cavern was the underground basement of a warehouse, with three vaulted brick-built archways. Over the years water had seeped down and brought calcium deposits with it, which had settled in the ceiling bricks. So when Johnny plucked that first bass note it was like a shower of snow corning down. People went, 'Wow look at that … and listen to that.' So we were really impressed, and I got ambitious at that point." <…> Other bands began to notice the relative sophistication of The Big Three's amplification, especially the bass gear. "Liverpool wasn't a competitive scene, before it got commercial," explains Barber. '"All the bands co-operated with one another and backed each other up. It was a cool scene, and I started to build these things for other people. Paul McCartney asked me to make him a Coffin. It had a single 15-inch speaker in a reflex-ported cabinet, with two chrome handles and wheels on the side."

McCartney started to use a Barber Coffin speaker cabinet during the late part of 1961. <…> McCartney himself recalls, "Adrian made me a great bass amp that he called the Coffin. And, man! Suddenly that was a total other world. That was bass as we know it now. It was like reggae bass: it was just too right there. It was great live." Pete Best too remembers the Coffin. "Neil Aspinall and I used to carry it. Every couple of shows there'd be a flight of stairs which you had to carry this thing up, and it was then we'd wonder why he couldn't have got something smaller. We'd have sweat streaming off us. But the beauty of it was, with all the laughing and joking aside, it did produce a great sound. The first time Paul plugged it in and used it, we just said my god, this is incredible. It added to The Beatles sound."

(Beatles Gear: All the Fab Four's Instruments from Stage to Studio Hardcover by Andy Babiuk, 2010)

So, I guess, Paul is lying on his bass amp that they called the Coffin - and it's the reason of the pantomime on the photo.

[inkyquince]

I just saw a post about parents building their son a cool new bed and being excited for him and his special interest is dinosaurs and you can tell and I was hit by insane baby fever

So I'm just thinking about Eden, hand making your kid's bed. Carving each piece of wood, whittling tiny designs in it. Your kid is getting too big for the cot and he'd rather die than have them in bed with you two so he sits, bare foot and surrounded by different pieces of lumber, perfectly measured to slot together and puts it all together.

Avery, who orders your kid a new bed, making sure it's one of the cool ones. A bunk bed with a lil play area underneath, with safe stairs for them to climb down from instead of a ladder. He bought the cot and made sure it was aesthetically pleasant, soft white painted wood and all pretty but loves your kid enough to indulge. Has other people build it while they're at school but watches you excitedly set up the play area and tucking their toys in and making up the bed. Something in him feels it's because you didn't get to be excited about a new bed. The other part brushes it over and kisses the back of your neck.

Wren yelling fuck as he hammers his thumb again. Grumbling loudly. Whines for a kiss every time you pop your head in. Wren was going to buy a cheap IKEA bed and make it up cool but Remy caught wind and sent over one of those fucking beds that takes forever to put together, has drawers built into it, everything. Remy smoothly told you it's because he makes sure his people are happy but Wren knows for a fuckin fact that it's because he already owned it and wanted to get it out of the manor. He's more excited to pick out sheets and new toys, because a kid needs a cool fuckin bed!

Bailey leaving halfway through, crumpling up the instructions. Snaps at you to leave him alone when he leaves the house. You feel uneasy, and try to take over, but shit, it's complicated... Where the hell is slot G? What's rod C? Its not even funny to make it into a sex joke anymore. You sit there, desperately checking the time, wanting your kid to get to come home to a upgraded bed after nagging Bailey to stop being a cheapskate. Then the door flings open and arguing voices spill over each other. The asshole drags his friends who all currently owe him a favour in, making them help him or god HELP THEM, he will start throwing hands. Briar idly questions your choice in the design, as Harper SWEATS, bullied into being the one who holds up the balancing edge of the bed frame. Remy and Bailey arguing about instructions and are so close to hitting each other until Wren smugly points out they've been reading it upside down. When it's actually put together, they all go to the kitchen and steal your beers as Briar stays behind and idly watches you make up the bed, offering tips on how to make it look cosier.

And of course your kid lets themselves in with their key, ignores all the men who did the work and flings themselves into your arms, babbling out thanks yous for the cool new bed! The ensemble quietly reminds each other to get vasectomies and Bailey just gives you the evil eye.

[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x Tattooed!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: Hiiiii I'm the one who asked for the tattooed reader with nat and I wanted to say thank you, I love it... I have another request... Maybe younger reader, who is a virgin, with nat who literally praises them throughout the whole thing and just kind of guides them... Not necessarily a totally innocent kind of reader, just that they don't know exactly what to do. G!P or male reader would be great, just whatever you're comfortable with, and if you can/want, reader has tattoos (if you haven't noticed I'm kinda obsessed with them). Hope you had/have a great day❤️ (sorry if it's kind of confusing, English isn't my first language sooo yeah) 

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Read the original blurb here!

You’re a little surprised when Natasha asks if you want to go to her room after the party, but not enough to turn down her offer. You’re not stupid, and you’re pretty sure your little display at the pool was enough to catch her eye. But at the same time, you’re a little nervous, because despite what everyone thought about you, you’d never actually done it before.

She holds your hand while she guides you into her room. You’re a little surprised at the lack of character it has: just a bed, a plain dresser, and a desk in the corner. There are no knick knacks, no memorabilia, no pictures or posters.

You knew that Natasha Romanoff is a woman who is very hard to read and immensely secretive, but you hadn’t expected this to extend to her own private room as well. But this was your chance to get to know her--assuming you didn’t disappoint tonight.

Natasha guides you over to her bed and sits down to face you. You don’t even realize that you never put your shirt back on from the pool until she leans forward to run her fingers across the sword tattoo on your left side.

“I got that after I spent six months in Japan,” you volunteer, a little uncomfortable with the silence. 

“What about this one?” Her fingers move up to touch the dragon on your chest.

You shrug. “My friend designed it. I just thought it looked cool.”

“You’re not wrong there.” Natasha drops her hand back to her lap and leans back, biting her lip as she looks you up and down. She spreads her legs and grabs onto your shorts to drag you forward until you’re standing between them. “Obviously I brought you here for a reason. But only if you want to.”

“O-Of course I do.” But your stutter gives away your nerves.

“Are you sure?” Natasha hesitates.

“Yes. It’s just...I’ve never...” Your cheeks heat up at the fact that you have to explain to her that you’re still a virgin, but she tugs on your shorts again, bringing you down into a kiss. Her lips taste like coconut lip gloss and press against yours softly.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” she says.

You want to tell her that you’ll take care of her, but your words are lost when she kisses you again, wrapping her arms around your back and pulling you on top of her. You put your hands on her shoulders, not really sure where else to put them, but as the kiss deepens you find them gravitating towards her chest and groping her over her bikini.

“Hold on,” Natasha says, breaking away from your lips and sitting up to undo the knot behind her neck. She slips out of her bikini top and you have to consciously keep your jaw from dropping when she exposes herself to you. 

“Can I...”

“You don’t have to ask,” she chuckles, amused by your manners. 

You cup your hands around her breasts, surprised at how soft they are and rubbing your fingers over her nipples.

“My turn,” Natasha says, practically panting as she reaches for your shorts. You’re a little nervous to show yourself off like that, and she can tell, but she brushes her hand along your thigh and asks you to take them off yourself. With a deep breath, you pull your shorts down, your cock springing out hard and ready, and it’s Natasha’s turn to hold back an exhale.

“You’re gonna stretch me out so good,” she hums and you feel yourself throb at her dirty words.

“I can’t wait to be inside you,” you say, not sure if the words will turn her on or further show your lack of experience. 

But Natasha doesn’t comment, lying back down and sliding out of her bikini bottoms. You carefully move on top of her, enjoying the silky feeling of her bare skin against yours. Your hips rock against hers, your cock twitching as it makes contact with the insides of her thighs.  

“Inside,” Natasha begs suddenly. “I need you inside.”

“I...I don’t have protection,” you say, the thought suddenly dawning upon you. 

“You don’t need it.”

“Are...Are you sure?” The last thing you need right now is to become a parent. 

“Do you trust me, baby?” Natasha asks, and your heart soars at the pet name.

“Of course.”

You sit back to line yourself up, tensing in anticipation and not wanting to blow too early. As you slide yourself in, all you feel is a warm tightness around your cock, better than your hand or any toy you had ever been inside of.

“Oh fuck, Nat,” you pant, pressing yourself deeper, desperate to feel that same warmth along your entire length.

“Finally,” she moans, dropping her head back on the pillows. “Start thrusting, baby. Fill me up and make me feel good.”

You take her waist in your hands, jacking your hips forward in uneven, short strokes. You don’t really have the focus or the patience to take your time, but you also want Natasha to be happy with your performance. 

“Fuck, right there,” she says, her nails suddenly clawing at your back as you lean down to kiss her again. “A little harder, baby. Don’t be afraid. You won’t break me.”

You grunt as you try to deepen your strokes, railing into her harder. Her walls clench around you perfectly and you know the stimulation is already too much. You try holding out as long as you can, but you spill before you can even give Natasha a warning, pausing as you release your cum into her in sporadic bursts.

“I...Oh, God,” you mumble, embarrassed and ashamed. “I’m so sorry, Nat--”

“Don’t be,” she says, stopping you from pulling out. “We’ll try again when you’re ready. It feels nice to have your cum inside of me.”

It’s strange to hear something so crude come out of her mouth, but it makes your cock twitch. Maybe it’ll be ready for round two sooner than you thought.

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AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[tobiasdrake]

It will never stop being funny to me that. Like. This Pokemon?

The fact that this Pokemon can be male made people so insecure that they wound up creating a Boys Only counterpart who's all cool and masculine coded.

And. Like. The original can still be male. There are plenty of male Gardevoirs out there. But Gallade? NO GIRLS ALLOWED in our cool Boy Pokemon for boys that don't want to wear dresses!

You can feel the overreaction in every fiber of this design.

Then, years later, Scarlet/Violet was like, "Hey, we're doing LGBT stuff now because we're hip with the L's and G's and B's and especially those darling T's, of which we have two flavors in our major Trainers!"

And they looked at this situation and went, "I see you, and I raise you an enby Pokemon that incorporates elements from both designs and isn't allowed to have any genders at all."

What an absolute flex. XD

[browsing-and-anon-asking]

Ughgfhfiebdjdh YAY!!!! I really love how these all turned out!!

Paladin Danse

The man the myth the cake

My plan was to make him less curvy and he came out MORE

I hate drawing power armor and I love him in the bomber jackets so... he's in a bomber jacket

I made the scar on his eyebrow more visible

If you look close his pupils are slightly yellow... wonder what that's about 👀👀

I fattened him up a little! Think he deserves to be kinda fat

Switched orange uniform to black uniform bc it looks better

He's kinda smug about being in the BoS genuinely feel so bad when he gets exiled(fuck you maxson, you're hot but fuck you)

No idea who that is still

Hai Deacon!!!!(if you get that ref I love you)

I wanted to make him more androgynous looking since he's constantly getting cosmetic surgery done, and his whole thing is 'never show your real self'

Painted his nails because I said so

Backpack has a whole fashion show kit in there and yet it's as light as a feather

Injured arm bc IN MY GAME HES SO STUPID OH MY GOD

This fucking idiot changes his look as he running at gunners who are SHOOT AT HIM BTW AND TAKES UP ALL MY DAMN STIMPACK OH MY GOD

I still love him tho so....

I also made him a blonde, if you can't tell by the eyebrows and little hairs on his chin

And yes.... I made the top of his head a lil sun burnt...

G....Gage 🤤🤤🤤

Okay. Okay. Yes. I do... have favoritism to Preston, Gage and MacCready idk if you could tell with how much more I did for their designs than others...

Where to begin. Made upper body bigger bc I'm sure he was doing most of the cleaning in Culter's room, and probably helped carry supplies for the power armor.

Also make the tank top shrink, so you can see... his... uhm.

Hairier man is a better man

Took away one belt bc that's the dumbest shit ever why does he have two

Darker the chains for the bags and kinda pushed them up a tiny bit

Dirty...

Made eye scar slightly seen.

Gave body scars

Did pretty work to his eyes, did you see 👀

Oh my days, I really am super chill about him, btw. I'm so chill and cool about him...

THANKS EVERYONE!!! WILL POST THE POLL IN AN HOUR!!!

[mekatrio]

cuz at first ajaa wasnt even meant to exist it was just meant to be the trilogy and thats it, then while theyre porting it over to the nintendo ds capcom gives them the green light to go nuts with a bonus pseudo-dlc case and By God Do They, making the longest case yet of RFTA with fully animated 3d cutscenes + an incredibly convoluted plot that makes the most out of aa1's 3 day trial system + fully modelled 3d rotational evidence, hitting heavy themes of police corruption and evidence forgery and whatnot like they went INSANE, cuz this was supposed to be IT. this was supposed to be ace attorneys big finale and farewell but SIKE oh my god the actual Ministry Of Justice has knocked on capcoms door and told them hey can you make some propaganda for us. so now the aa team has to make propaganda for them. right after burning themselves the fuck out from creating rfta. all that time spent on rfta which couldve been development time for ajaa.... too late. cant be taken back. apollo justice is designed in less than a week and theyre marketing this game while the team is still making it, takumi crazed madman that he is decides to not rely on old characters which while that is an artistic slay, sets up the stage for a marketing failure, and a new artistic team of infinite ambition goes nuts with creating derangedly detailed animations

⬆️ like oh my god are you insane. thank you so much BUT ARE YOU INSANE? all while still making 3d renders of evidence and random 3d animations and it looks so awesome BUT THERES NOT ENOUGH TIME, 3 wonderful cases are made but 4-4 falls on its face. 6 hours long instead of the usual 10 and only one cross-examination in the final trial and 2 whole main characters with no backstory like its bad. its going to be bad. but its too late. the most incomplete ace attorney game has to be rushed out of the gates and the sales are made But The Reception Is Bad. Real Bad. 2000s hater gamer crowds were the first of its kind, being massively fuelled by the internet, haters back then could sink their teeth deep into a company, which is what got nintendo scrambling away from their wind waker art direction to appease the gamers w twilight princess. so similarly when the hate for ajaa came on, cuz whattt phoenix disbarred and no 😤 old characters 😤😤, capcom scrambled to appease the masses. but oh oh whats this? takumi says 'yeahhhh Nah' and says he wants to make a game about his dog. OK. cant persuade him away from that. might as well let some new blood handle the franchise in takumi's place then, but for The Love Of God do not make an ajaa followup. the gamers will kill us. and so the aai duology was born....... cool........ first one's reception was so bad that localization plans were dropped entirely for the sequel. wow. takumi is fresh off from ghost trick but fucking what, 5 years has passed now, and the new hot console is the nintendo THREE ds. 3ds. wowwww. fucking... PROFESSOR LAYTON kidnaps takumi to make plvpwaa and ajaa continues to be left in the dust. fucking nobody wants him. poor orphaned kitten left in the street. all while the trilogy gets 9584948 million adaptations. and yamazaki twiddles his thumbs thinking abt making aai3 but after thinking it over hes like yeah ill try making aa5. capcom lets him and.......... its over........ they tell him sure go for it But Do Not Follow Up On Apollo Everyone Hates Him please make phoenix the protag. a recipe for disaster. and a disaster aa5 is. juggling THREE protags a complete mess and they do a popularity poll and wow would u look at who came first, fucking APOLLO. JUSTICEEEEEEE. its almost like.... gamers opinions..... are not valuable in the long run.. and popular opinion has never signified artistic understanding.... aa6 comes chugging along and yamazaki addicted to racism cranks out something even worse. both aa56 makes the sales it needs but mindless fanservice can only get u so far... its been nearly 10 years since the ajaa 'trilogy' titles released and the general consensus is that Aaja Was Good and aa56 Not So Much but what can you do now? heres the apollo justice trilogy please buy it and deeply lower ur expectations for coherent and cohesive narratives which have basis in reality thank u. bc u will not be finding that here. ajaa never stood a chance.. they werent doomed by the narrative. its worse. they were doomed by STUPID FUCKING GAMERS AND STUPID EXECUTIVE DECISIONS 😭😭😭

[livingincolorsagain]

tagged by @saryasy for a 2024 fic roundup, thanks for the tag babe <3. a bit late but hey im here now lol

July

pledge allegiance to my burning heart (2.3k, t) (rebloggable link)

Eddie’s always wanted the things he couldn’t have, but Buck already has a designated spot on his couch.

first buddie fic of course had to be couch theory. and eddie’s pov.

August

and you won’t let it (1.4k, t) (rebloggable link)

It’s just… he’s watching Eddie, standing near the fence, away from almost everyone, a drink in hand and a smile on his face, a beautiful, bashful smile that is directed at Marcus.

Marcus, who’s a friend of Karen. Marcus, who’s tall and smart and handsome. Marcus, who’s a goddamn rocket scientist. Marcus, who paused after hugging Karen and wishing her a happy birthday, because he spotted Eddie there by plates, having a very serious discussion about ladybugs with Jee-Yun.

Marcus, who’s been talking to Eddie all day, making him smile and laugh, then dragging him away from the party, so now they’re standing alone, and Buck doesn’t know what they’re saying, what they’re talking about, but Eddie’s cheeks are flushed even more than usual, his eyes are bright and glistening even as he ducks his head, staring at the glass in his hand for a long moment, and Marcus’ eyes stay on him until he’s looking up again, shrugging, as if to say what the hell, why not.

(Or, Eddie dances with a guy. Buck is very normal about it actually, thank you very much.)

jealous insane buck who wants to crack his chest open so eddie can crawl inside. what’s not to love

September

sunlight through a window (443, g) (rebloggable link)

The last rays of sunlight peek through the curtains of Eddie's bedroom window, spreading over the bed.

Buck is sitting against the headboard, a pillow stuffed behind him and a light blanket covering him.

Covering them, because Eddie is flush against his side, warm skin on warm skin, slick with cooling sweat. Buck has an arm around his narrow waist, fingers idly rubbing over the smooth skin, back and forth, up and down, until he reaches a spot that has Eddie giggling, a full body jerk.

Buck smiles, drags his fingers lightly over the same spot one more time, Eddie growls playfully, takes hold of his hand but doesn't move it away as he says, "stop," and only managing to sound breathless about it.

Buck's smile widens, and he turns his head to the side, looks down at Eddie's upturned face, breath stuttering, because one of the sun's stray rays is falling across Eddie's face, making his eyes a molten golden brown that threatens to unravel Buck, bury him, keep him warm and loved.

October

of pretending; (351, g) (rebloggable link)

Eddie thought he would get used to the silence. He thought as the days and weeks and months went by, it would get easier, feel less cutting, less hollowing, less like someone had carved his heart out of his chest and left a jagged hole behind.

It didn’t.

He put the decorations up alone, took them down alone, even though he brought them long ago with Christopher and Buck. Even though he only really brought them because they both loved the tiny pumpkins and little sitting skeletons and the orange and pink lights, obsessing over where they were going to place them right in the middle of the aisle as Eddie watched them, heart so full it almost spilled over.

November

in the passenger seat (1k, t) (rebloggable link)

“I drive,” Eddie repeats, rolling his eyes in Chimney’s general direction.

“Yeah,” Hen says, and now she’s smiling, “when absolutely necessary.”

“Everyone drives when absolutely necessary! What, you want me to drive around for fun?”

“Some people do,” Buck chimes in, utterly unhelpful, he guesses, given the look Eddie throws his way.

“That’s terrible for the environment.”

Well. That is true. Buck swallows down his own smile and shrugs.

“Eddie,” Chimney says, walking back over to the table, “how did you get to work today?”

Eddie frowns. “That’s neither here nor there.”

Buck’s lips twitch. Eddie’s cheeks are flushed pink. Buck knows, from experience, how soft and warm they feel under his lips, under his thumbs when he presses them into the dimples there, swipes them back and forth over the skin, watching Eddie’s eyes flutter close then open slowly, heavy-lidded and brilliantly brown and endlessly loving.

“Because Buck drove you here?”

(Or, Evan Buckley was put on God’s green earth to drive Eddie Diaz around.)

passenger princess eddie diaz. that’s it. that’s the plot. (okay there’s also a lot of feelings. it’s me after all)

the stars are still in the sky (600~, g)

The quietness stretches, blankets them, as the wind picks up, the cold intensifying; like it's putting up a fight it knows it's going to lose once the sun breaks through the horizon.

Eddie says, "I'm going to miss you," then pauses, takes a deep breath, "I think I already do."

And Buck feels the words land in his chest like sharded glass, his heart splintering like an old piece of wood that needs to be sanded down.

He closes his eyes against the burn, his throat closing, and it takes him too long to open his eyes and say, "I'm going to miss you, too."

Eddie sits up a little, locks one arm in place and rests his head on his palm. He has a gentle smile on his face when Buck turns to look at him, and Buck suddenly feels caught, trapped with nowhere to go, and when he opens his mouth, he says,

"We can always, y'know, look at the stars. Together."

might actually be one of my favorite fics ive posted this year

half his heart and soul (320~, g)

Buck gets it, is the thing. He would do the same, he thinks, if he were in Eddie's shoes. He would do it all, and more, for Christopher. So, he gets it.

He's not mad, he's not confused. He understands.

Eddie's heart and soul is in El Paso, Texas, so he's following it.

What he doesn't understand is the way Eddie is still wringing his hands nervously, fidgeting. He doesn't understand why he can only meet Buck's eyes fleetingly, like he knows, if Buck looks for more than a second at a time, he would see something he doesn't want him to see.

And Buck wants to see, but he's being a good friend, so he doesn't ask. Doesn't chase Eddie's eyes, no matter how much he wants to.

December

almost married (340~, g)

Buck is mindlessly browsing through suits when Eddie steps out of the changing room, arms spread out a little, hair swooping, cheeks pink, and a bright smile stretching his lips.

Buck's breath hitches, and he blinks once, twice, before abandoning the rack of suits and walking over to Eddie.

"What do you think?" Eddie asks, still smiling brightly, like he already knows what Buck thinks.

"Do a spin," Buck says, sounding a little breathless, and Eddie laughs, but he does do a spin, raising an eyebrow when Buck fails to look away fast enough from how the pants are snuggly hugging his ass.

"Yeah," Buck says softly, "That's the one."

Eddie beams. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," Buck takes another step closer, and now he's close enough Eddie has to slightly tilt his face up to keep looking at his face. "Yeah, it is."

no pressure tagging @confessionseddie @buick118 @moonsharky @letthesunburnyourskin @capseycartwright @tidesreach <33

[brittle-doughie]

Infinity and Beyond - Looking Into The Sweet Signals from Space Update!

We’re finding the imposters among us with this one!

The aim of this concept is to have it be a multi-update deal akin to the Dragons storyline with how they say “like the dragon series, we’re diving into a story set in a rich, expansive universe”. This peaked my interest, I’d love to see what they have in store! I know there are some folks who like or don’t like the Dragons story, so I wonder what you all think of this!

Meet Astronaut Cookie! She’s cute, has an ice cream sandwich satellite for a pet, even has a cat cookie motif with her costume? What more could you want! Yeah, her skill might be a bit too reminiscent of Cyborg’s (who also got a skin after 84 years lol), but I’m willing to look past that.

Alright, I’m kind of vibing with the setting already, cookies are probably toothpaste, wonder if they clean your teeth when eaten. How does one “escape” or even fortify against a blackhole? The event itself sounds similar to the Sugar Maze event to me…in a way somehow. Wait, why is Stollen Cookie here?Also Planet H A M B O R G A R

I’m now getting Star Wars: Rogue One flashbacks. Just like Cyborg, it’s been 84 years since he got attention, so I’m happy to see he got a cool skin to deck himself out with!

The Surprise Bears. They can either go well or go very poorly, still means I don’t have to run over and over again for the god damn legendary ingredients. However, I do hope the challenges aren’t meant to be a cap in any way, since that already drags it down when you were able to AFK for hours beforehand, even if it sucked. Team Fight getting a gem boost might give me more incentive to play.

(Gmod flatline sound effect plays)

The Deal with Legendaries is canceled, y’all /j. I can’t keep up with their pace, bro. I’m over here trying to write it from time to time and they already have another one on the way, I’m dead. Xylitol Nova himself is getting flak for having a supposedly dull design unworthy of the rarity, I’m already seeing it in the QRTs on Twitter lol. For me, I’ll wait until I cast judgment, he has a pretty cool skin though…

———————————————————————

(Astronaut Cookie looked all around her new setting, seeing the city’s sleek, clean, futuristic design she hasn’t seen much of back on Earthbread. The cookies here didn’t look all that different too, save for their ingredients being possibly toothpaste in some capacity. She was caught staring at this one cookie in particular, she observed them inspecting the shield and instructing the robots to different spots close to the barrier, Xylitol Nova Cookie chuckled at her once he noticed.)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: Ah, I see you’ve taken an interest in one of my cookies. That would be Xylitol Y/N Cookie, they’re in charge of making sure the barrier is in peak performance, they’ve been hard at work ever since we’ve seen reports of the blackhole.

(Xylitol Nova walked over to them as Astronaut followed. Meanwhile, you were instructing both cookies and robots alike on the status of the barrier, making sure that no fault in any way was detected. Until the voice of someone very familiar to you called your name..)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: Hello, Xylitol Y/N Cookie. How are you doing?

(You greeted Xylitol Nova in return and proceeded to ramble on about the barrier. You did your best at trying to speak to him, but couldn’t ignore that cookie next to him staring at you. It also looked like Xylitol Nova wasn’t taking your analysis seriously with that smile of his, something that bothered you to no end!)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: How routine of you, Xylitol Y/N Cookie. Always thinking about the barrier when we haven’t had any issues in the past couple rotations. We have a guest here today and I’d like for you to meet her-

(You couldn’t, you had to inspect the rest of the barrier-when Xylitol Nova Cookie suddenly hugged you from behind with a strong grip, a scene that made Astronaut Cookie feel…envious. You complained and grumbled as you try fruitlessly to free yourself)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: Xylitol Y/N Cookie. You are taking a break from now until further notice, I’d hate to use my authority on you, but this is for your own good. Feel free to interact with your fellow cookies, come and see me in my residence, or even introduce yourself to our guest here~! (I’d prefer you pick the second option in my opinion)

(You continued to struggle until it felt tighter to move, you looked to your front to see Astronaut Cookie hugging you from the front, her head resting on your chest. You swear she’s…shaking a little bit?)

Xylitol Nova Cookie: What do you know? Even our visitor is agreeing with me, she appears to have taken a liking to you too.

(…Who was this?)

[hailtheaeon]

WAH WAH

Content warnings: angst, heartbreak, frustration, self deprecating thoughts, doubting oneself, kissing, handjobs, nipple play. I really hope there isn’t many spelling mistakes.

Special thanks to @hailthegodsong you’ve been so sweet and kind helping me out this together. ILY.

“I don’t need no wah-wah”

You never felt too good in crowds, or with people around. The anxiousness bubbled up in your gut, and sometimes, it could even get to a point where you’d vomit. It was embarrassing really, your best friend could socialize perfectly well. He could dance and flirt and sing and laugh with about anyone, charming everyone in his path while he cleared a line for himself. He was like some sort of sun god, there was a glow about him, he was electric. Electric gold.

And, of course, he managed to sweep you up too. Immediately rushing over to you and plopping down in the seat next to you before getting up clumsily and asking you if he could sit there. You silently nodded, immediately feeling disdain rise inside you. But, when he grinned that perfectly white wide tooth grin, and pulled a perfectly sharpened pencil from his pocket to hand to you, you immediately were smitten. You were convinced no one could hate him.

So, even if you didn’t want to, you accompanied him to a friend’s birthday party, a friend you didn’t know. And you couldn’t help but be shocked when he grabbed your hand firmly and yanked you out of the house, eyes wide, breathing heavy, hands shaky and cold with sweat. You’d never seen him this affected by anything?

His eyes pleaded with you to go, like how so often you’d do the same. And even if you’d wanted to leave from the beginning, you couldn’t help but feel so confused. He absolutely loved parties, it was one of his favorite things. “We’re going?” you tilted your head, lips parted, eyes squinting at his.

He rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath that sounded more like a child’s sulk. He pulled you further, opening the door and shoving you through, you made an audible ‘oof’ at that with a bitter chuckle. “Don’t you want to leave?” he turned the question back at you, not cool. You weren’t going to let him flip shit back into you. “You hate parties, I’m doing you a favor.”

A favor? This was the first time you’d had fun at a party or any social gathering in ages. You’d been the designated driver as always, but you’d managed to chat up a conversation with Dave, Danny’s friend. You didn’t feel the minutes dragging, nor did you have the immediate itch to go home. Why could you never have your fun? It surely felt that way.

You couldn’t help but scoff, eyes widening at his audacity. Yeah, you didn’t like parties, but you also agreed to go with him. In fact, you wanted to, you loved watching him flourish. And he made sure to never leave the room you were in, always at arms length. That was good enough for you. Plus, you’d been catching up. You were actually having a good time. “I was fine, Josh.” You can’t help but spit back. “You’re the one shoving me through the fucking door like you’re moving a couch that’s a little too big.”

He looked equally as frustrated as you at your response to him. He marched down the driveway, letting go of your hand. He dug into his pockets and pulled out his keys for his jeep and clicked it, the jeep making an audible ‘beep’ and its headlights lighting up. You weren’t dumbfounded. What in the fuck happened in the short forty-five minutes you’d been there? You rushed to the car, opening the passenger door than shutting it a little louder than intended.

Josh looked over at you, bottom lip wobbling before his eyes went watery. He gulped, eyes darting away from just a second before they looked back at you. “He was there.” Josh finally spat out, biting his bottom lip so hard he drew blood. He yelped then pulled his teeth away.

“Him?” you were sure you knew who it was, just wanting some sort of confirmation. His eyes darting over, a nod, a gulp, a nod. Fuck, anything would do. Josh had this guy he had fallen for, and he thought the guy did too, the situationship went on for two whole years. Josh, ever the kind man, waited and waited. The man who begged him for sexual favors being the same man to tell Josh that ‘he wasn’t ready’ and ‘he just needed to work through some things’. And even though you knew Josh didn’t believe him, he’d wait. Because maybe, just maybe he was wrong. But after two years Josh got impatient and snapped, asking why they wouldn’t date. And at that, the same guy who would butter him up to get what he wanted blocked Josh right when he texted him that. Apparently he had no use for Josh anymore, and that killed him. Josh felt weak, unlovable, and most importantly, used.

And used he was. You were disgusted someone could do that to him. No one deserved that, Josh being prime example. And as you asked that, there was a sense of hesitation before he nodded. You could tell he was trying to hold himself together, but everything would come crashing down. Because Josh was emotional, not one to ever bottle his emotions. Though you mainly saw him smile and laugh, he would always let himself grieve.

The drive back to his apartment was silent, the radio wasn’t even on to distract you from the way your heart ached at his hurt. He didn’t even acknowledge you when he opened his door, he didn’t help you out like usual either and it kind of pissed you off? You understood he was upset but there was no need to shut you out.

So, like the mature adult you were, you stomped out of the car and grabbed his arm as he walked back inside. His eyes shot to yours, flinching slightly. Tears were now streaming down his face, snot pooling from his nose and his face was splotchy and red. He didn’t even bother to wipe the tears that were threatening to drop from his jaw, just staring at you like a kicked puppy. His bottom lip stuck out in an obvious pout.

You sighed, dropping your hand from his arm. His eyes darted to yours and immediately dropped to the floor, his beautiful whimsical self reduced to a puddle that rolled down the hardwood floors. He stomped upstairs, slamming the door shut. Okay, so he was really hurt, probably the most hurt you’d ever seen him. And that made you feel so guilty. But at the same time did he have a right to treat you that way even when upset?

But, you couldn’t help but feel the need to help him, to comfort him, to tell him you were sorry and that you understood why he wanted to go. But, did he want you there?

You looked up the stairs, contemplating if you should go up there or not. Josh was a person who loved touch, and he usually liked being comforted so you decided to take your chances. After you ran up the stairs you knocked against the door softly, not hearing a word behind the door. You weren’t used to seeing him like this, Josh wasn’t supposed to act like this. He was supposed to be fun, and mildly annoying to anyone else who didn’t actually know him. You knocked again, hearing a small whimper.

You took that as permission and opened the door, grateful that it wasn’t locked. Slowly opening the door, you saw him sitting, almost laying back in his bed. His head tilted down, his eyes looking at his bedsheets. His pants had little droplets all over his thighs, looking like rainfall. You crawled next to him in the bed, leaning your head down on his shoulder to check his reaction. He let his temple rest against the top of your head. His hand slowly reached out for yours and you gladly laced your fingers with his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?” it was a stupid question really, of course he wasn’t okay. But you felt the need to say something.

He looked up from the bedsheets, his big brown eyes red and glossy. He shook his head, licking his lips to wet them. “I don’t even miss him.” Josh whines out, his voice cracking. “I just miss having him, if that makes sense.”

“Josh, you spent two years hoping he’d commit to you, it’s not unusual to feel that way.” you murmured, looking up at him. You reached your other arm around his waist, pulling him closer, tighter, feeling the need to keep him close. You just wanted him to know you cared, even if it didn’t feel the same.

“Seeing him was like a flashback, felt like I was my grandpa remembering Vietnam. Like, you enjoy it in the moment and you think what’s going on is good then it just crumbles. And I feel so stupid for thinking ‘well, maybe he’ll finally settle down’ or ‘he’s just not ready yet’ I told myself that for two fucking years. I could’ve had someone who truly cared about me.” Josh spilled his guts, finally fully talking about it. You felt so horrible that he felt so stupid, so naive. Josh was always the optimist, always thinking of the good side of the situation. And sometimes that could really fuck him over.

“I don’t even think I was in love with him, I was more in love with the idea of him finally loving me. You know? I just wanted someone to care.” he sighs out a puff of air from his lips. You get it, of course you do. It was nice to be cared for, to be appreciated, to be loved.

“So…” You paused, pursing your lips. “You were in love with the idea of him? But more so the idea of him loving and wanting you?” you asked, trying to make sure you got it correct.

“Something like that.” Josh admits with a weak nod, his hands going up to his head to tug at his curls.

You shifted yourself in front of him and grabbed at his hands, pulling them away. “Let’s not do that.” you chuckle weakly, placing his hands in his lap.

You cup his cheeks, making him look at you. And the look on his face is almost longing? But, why would that be directed at you?

“Y/N..” he murmurs your name shakily, his brown eyes meeting yours. “Am I handsome?”

You almost burst out laughing at that question, if not for his pouty, tear stained face. Of course he was handsome, he was one of the most handsome people you’d ever seen. “Josh..” you sigh out. “Of course you are.”

“You’re just saying that!” he huffs out, crossing his arms, trying to pull his face away from your hands.

“No I’m not!” you defend yourself, yanking his face to look back at yours. “Where’s all your confidence, honey? You know you’re gorgeous. You’re a whole diva. And I like you like that. You’re supposed to be loud and giggly and flamboyant. That’s you, Josh.” you explain to him, trying to drill the words into his skull with how close your mouth is to him.

His lips part and his brows furrow, his hands go from his lap to around your waist, pulling you into his lap. He holds onto you like a lifeline, only lifting his head to press a sloppy and wet kiss to your cheek. If he wasn’t in the state he was in, you would’ve giggled or maybe pushed him away with a shove of his shoulders. Instead, you drop your hands from his cheeks and wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight, scratching between his shoulder blades, lazily drawing circles on his shirt over his skin.

You don’t expect Josh to then push you off of him and curl up, muttering out. “‘S fine, I’m fine, doesn’t really matter. It’s all stupid.” he groans, his palms covering his eyes, almost pushing into them.

“No Josh- you’re not fine-“ you start but he cuts you off.

“I am fine!” he says a little too loudly, startling you. This wasn’t how Josh was, and you wanted to be there for him, but why was he making it so damn difficult? “I’m just being a fucking idiot, it’s pathetic, really. It was just a stupid fucking situationship- I need to get over it.”

“That’s not how anyone works.” you can’t help but roll your eyes, sitting down in the corner of his bed. You kept him at arms length.

“It seems like it. Jake can just move on, a girl breaks it off with him and the next day he’s fucking some other girl.” Josh defends his stance.

“That’s horribly unhealthy, he’s using sex as a coping mechanism instead of actually letting himself process everything. And you know how he drinks when it happens, he gets drunk and makes some bad decisions to distract himself.” you try your best to explain, reaching out and taking his hands away from his eyes. They were bloodshot, and very watery. His bottom lip was stuck out in a pout, and it trembled. The sight alone almost broke you.

“And-“ you can’t help but make this point just like you did time and time again. “You’re not Jake, even if you two are so similar. You’re your own person, babe, you know that.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that.” he scoffs slightly. “I mean, I just wish I was more like him.”

And with that the tears in Josh’s eyes spilled down his face and dropped down his jaw. His knees were pulled up to his chest, he was slightly rocking himself for a little bit of comfort. You pulled his knees away with your hands, sliding between his legs to wrap your arms around him. Once you did that, his legs immediately locked around your waist, he buried his face into your neck, and his arms wrapped around your middle so tightly you felt your stomach cramp.

So, you do the only thing you know you can do. You pull his face away, pulling on the hair on the nape of his neck and immediately press a wet, opened mouth kiss on his forehead. To your surprise, he leans into it, his bottom lip stopping its twitching. It’s working. Lightbulb. So, you continue. Another kiss to his left temple, then his right, then the bridge of his nose, then his actual nose. You almost eat his nose which makes him choke out a slight giggle. He cranes his neck, chasing your kisses. So, you travel them lower, kissing his cheeks, then the corners of his lips, and then his chin. You wonder if you should stop, but his face pushes slightly towards yours. So, you kiss just under his jaw, resting the waters. It’s the same reaction as before, he even slightly hums a little.

Your hands go from his shoulders to his head to brush down his unruly curls, mostly due to him pulling and running his fingers through his hair. He purrs like a cat, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Your thumbs brush over his eyebrows slowly, and you can practically see his eyes roll back at the contact. So, you do it again, slower, and you press your thumbs down just a bit more.

Then, your lips press just under his ear, and he doesn’t pull you away. In fact, his arms lock around you tighter. A wave of confidence bubbles up in your gut, you purse your lips and press opened mouth kisses down his neck. And you’re absolutely delighted when he groans slightly. “Is this okay?” you whisper, mouth just under his ear.

“Please…” he begs, not knowing exactly what he’s begging for. Please continue? Please hold me? Please don’t go? Or maybe it was just… please? He didn’t know, all he knew was that he loved this, he felt adored, and butterflies swarmed his stomach.

“Shhh.” you whisper, kissing down his neck over again. You gulped, pulling away when you felt his crotch twitch, his cock couldn’t help but stir in his pants. Was this too far?

“Do you want me to stop?” you pull away again and he whines, making your stomach lurch.

“What do you want, Josh?” you ask him softly, scratching at the shaved sides of his head, just behind his ears.

He bites his lip, eyes darting to the wall. You can hear him gulp, can see his Adam’s apple bob. “Well, it’s hard to think of much of anything else when you’re basically making out with my neck.” he chuckles, he finally chuckles and that turns your concerned expression into a grin.

“So…” you smack your lips, still holding onto him but feeling slightly awkward.

“I should probably go to the bathroom and fix myself.” he unlocks his legs from around your waist and pulls his arms away from your middle. You grab his arm, not really knowing why you did it.

“Do you want me to help?” slips from your tongue and you immediately turn as red as a beet.

His eyes widen, his mouth parts in a silent gasp. “You’d-“ he coughs. “You’d do that?” he flushes as pink as you, cheeks looking sun-kissed, like he just got back from the beach.

“Josh, I’d do anything for you.” that wasn’t a lie, you would. You went to multiple shitty parties with him, dealt with pushing his drunk self back into his jeep, called him an uber on multiple occasions, cuddled him to sleep when he couldn’t, and now you’d kissed all over his face so he wouldn’t cry any more than he had.

“This is so fucking embarrassing.” he groans, pinching at his nose. He crosses his legs, yanking a decorative pillow from his bed to fully cover himself.

“No, babe, it’s normal. I’m not upset.” you shush him, trying your best to reassure him.

“Okay, okay.” he sighs, the anxiousness in his face wearing off. His legs spread slightly and you scoot from between his legs, eyes going down to his crotch.

You grab the pillow and drop it onto the floor, your eyes looking at his face, then the growing bulge in his khakis. You couldn’t help but despise those pants, he wore them everywhere. It was like Jake and his shitty blue jeans. They both had their favorite shitty pieces of clothing, as did everyone.

You reached your hand out, your fingertips barely grazing before he let out a hiss and pulled you to straddle his thigh. He needed the comfort of someone’s body against his. Your chest pressed against his and he let out an audible sigh of relief, like he was afraid that if you weren’t touching him you’d vanish into thin air. You palmed him through his khakis and his eyes darted to yours, big brown doe eyes pleading at you. He pushed your hand off, unzipping his fly before putting your hand back. His eyes roll back and he lets himself relax.

“Do you wanna lay down?” you ask him while palming him over his boxers. He was at least half hard and deliciously thick. But, this wasn’t about you, this was about him.

He nodded, and you helped push a pillow under his waist and put a couple of pillows behind his back and neck. He was half lying down, half sitting. He pulled you back onto his thigh, puckering his lips.

You leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss, both mouths parted as he sucked on your bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut. His palm went to your lower back, hand fitting under your shirt to scratch at the warm skin.

You reached your hand down into the hole in his boxers and carefully pulled him out, watching his cock slap against his clothed lower stomach. He wasn’t too big, just above average, but he was beautifully thick. You pulled away from his lips and he let out a soft whine, your left hand reached up to scratch at his scalp.

“Can you spit in my hand, please?” you held your hand out below his mouth, just over his chin. Instead of responding he simply gathered up his saliva and spit it into your palm. You kissed his cheek as thanks.

You wrapped your hand around the base, watching his face as you gave one slow pump to lube him up with his own spit. You could’ve sworn you saw a bead of precum leak from the very tip of his cock. Pressing your lips back onto his, you swiped your thumb over his tip and swallowed each and every small groan that left his lips at the small gesture. His hand that was on your back pressed down and pushed you closer, even if it was only an inch. You’re practically sharing breaths with the way he groans, swallowing them with pure bliss. You rock against his thigh slightly, pulling away from his lips to kiss and lick at his jaw and upper neck.

He definitely appreciates it, bucking his hips up into your hand, involuntarily jacking himself off. He lets out a strangled whine, eyes squeezing shut and his brows furrowing. He sucks in a breath. “Haven’t been touched like this cause someone wanted to in-“ he gulps down a breath. “In two years.”

Your smile drops at that. How dare someone ever do that to him? You knew Josh liked to give, you’ve heard his hookups talk about how good he was with his tongue especially. But, you’d always believed in giving back.

Josh twitches with every stroke of your hand, with every soft pass of your thumb over him. He squeezes your hip as if it’s a life raft, feeling himself go off into sea. Every flick of your wrist is like a crashing of a wave that gets closer and closer to shore. Bringing Josh closer and closer to orgasm.

Your eyes continuously flick from his face down to his cock, not being able to discern which sight you like more. Josh’s hand that was previously on your back goes to the back of your head, scratching at your roots to encourage you to kiss all over his skin. And you comply, again reaching down to press kisses all over the exposed skin his crew neck would allow.

“You doing okay?” you whisper, wanting to check in on him, making sure that his whines of pleasure aren’t turning into anything different.

“Yeah.” he breaths out heavily, practically panting like a dog in need of water. “Fuckin’ great.”

You use his encouragement to speed up a bit and he immediately shakes his head. “No, no- not yet-“ he rasps, bottom lip between his front teeth. “Want it to last a bit, please.”

You nod your head and slow back down to slow, languid strokes, making sure that your hand goes from all the way down to the base to all the way up to his tip at every stroke. You don’t want to miss a single centimeter of him.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” his praise went straight down to your gut, making your stomach twist in the best possible way. He was leaking, you hadn’t even needed to spit onto him again because of it. That was enough to make your head spin.

You squeezed him a bit harder, still keeping the pumps of your hand slow. He seemed to like that, trying his best not to rock his hips up or chase your hand. Though, he did buck his hips a few times, muttering weak apologies every time. You shook your head at that, nipping his gold earring on his earlobe.

Josh pulls away slightly to pull off his shirt, a thin layer of sweat on his chest that shines in the moonlight that radiates from his sheer curtains. He looks ethereal, and most definitely edible. So, you kiss at his collarbones, sucking small marks into the skin. He grabs for your other hand and puts it at his side, squeezing your hand so you squeeze the side of his stomach. You get the hint and squeeze at his side, crescent shaped indents marking his tan flesh. Your sucking and kissing turns into nipping, your teeth scraping against just under his collarbones. He shudders, back arching slightly off of his bed, and his hand that’s in your hair joins the other one on the other side of your hip. Your hand speeds up just slightly, your fist tighter. You lift your from him to blow your hair off of your forehead. He chuckles, lifting his hand from your hip to push it back before his hand goes back to squeezing you. You revel in his little puffs of air, his soft groans, the way his back slightly arches if you apply just a bit more pressure. He has never looked prettier, mouth parted in bliss, the shine of sweat on his skin, the way his eyes look up to his ceiling.

“Can you squeeze just a bit more?” he pants out and you eagerly nod, your kisses on his left pec, just above his nipple. His head nearly hits the headboard when you take his nipple into your mouth, nipping at the bud and sucking. His hands tighten around your waist and start to rock you on his thigh.

“Ffffuck!” he yelps, hips bucking when you deliver a slightly more aggressive nip. His dick twitches in your hand. You let your pinky feel his balls, tight and firm, but yet so velvety soft. He was clearly so close to orgasm, you just had to give him that one extra boost. You take his hand off his hip and reach down to his balls, softly squeezing them. His eyes immediately dart down to you and he groans louder than you’ve ever heard. His hands on your hips rock you faster, wanting to give you some semblance of the pleasure he was feeling.

You give his balls a harder squeeze and his head flys back, eyes rolling into his skull while his lips part and he groans deeply. You look down and see him twitch, his cock shooting out thick ropes of cum before he softens in your hand, twitches once more and sighs. “Holy shit, that was-“ Josh heaves, trying to catch his breath.

You peck the corner of his lips, nuzzling your nose into his upper cheekbone. Lifting yourself up you rush into his bathroom and grab a washcloth, dampening it under the sink before you return and wipe your hand and his stomach off. You press a soft kiss to his lips, he hums, rubbing your back. “I don’t think I’ve come that hard from a handjob in years.” he sighs, praising you.

The praise sends butterflies swarming down your stomach, and after he’s all cleaned he requests to cuddle with you, which you gladly agree to. With his arm wrapped around you, he asks. “Can we talk about what happened? I wanna know what you’re thinking, because, I’m thinking a lot of things right now.”

“Of course we can.” you nod your head, brushing back his flat and messy curls.

[dare-to-dm]

I have such a love/hate relationship with the Assassin's Creed series.

On the one hand, I hate that it feels like Ubisoft is maliciously designing this franchise to eternally suck money out of my wallet without ever giving me narrative closure or quality design. Like, there are so many cynical at best design decisions in this series. For context, I'm currently playing Assassin's Creed Valhalla, and I've already played every mainline title up to this one, except for AC: Unity, because I've decided to die mad about the whole "It's too hard to make a female playable character" thing. And for a long time now, it feels like each new title is shallowly chasing industry trends in order to try to appeal to a more mainstream audience. In AC Valhalla, there are so many mechanics straight up lifted from other popular games, but implemented so poorly and in such a vestigial way that it doesn't feel cohesive. Like, they tried to implement the pawn system from Dragon's Dogma for some reason, or the puzzles from Senua's Sacrifice. And this is a sad look for a series that was at one time so groundbreaking that it was influencing other franchises instead. In addition to just stealing a grab bag of mechanics from other games, Assassin's Creed is sacrificing its own unique identity to emulate other popular genres, with the combat in AC: Valhalla feeling way more soul-sy than it has any rights to. I mean, there are straight up boss battles in this game.

Boss Battles. In an Assassin's Creed game.

And you can't even just straight up assassinate anyone anymore. Like, if the opponent NPC is a higher level than you, than an assassination is basically just a fancy attack that does a little extra damage. Meaning there's hardly a reason to bother with stealth anymore, you might as well open up combat with a big flashy ability that will at least stun other opponents.

To their credit, you can change this in the Settings. In fact, if there's one thing they put a lot of effort into designing, it's the difficulty options. You can make it so assassinations are always an instant kill. You can make it so that opponents are always the same level as you. You can precisely calibrate how much damage you give and receive. There are also difficulty options for the stealth and for the exploration. You can literally remap the controls however you like. Honestly, I laud them for this. Although a cynical side of me feels like it's also indicative of a weak vision for the game. Rather than crafting an experience for a specific audience, it's another attempt to design for broad appeal.

All this is not to mention all the crap they've gotten up to with their monetization strategies. That could be a whole other post.

I've stuck with the series due to my interest in the story, and it feels a little like they're holding that interest hostage. Each new release gives me tantalizing bread crumbs, but little if anything is ever truly resolved or answered. It leaves me wondering if there's any kind of master plan for the whole thing, or if they're literally just stringing me along with whatever bullshit they think will keep me engaged with no end in sight.

But on the other hand, sometimes those bread crumbs are so good.

Like, there's at least one person on the development team (and probably far more) who is putting real time and effort into making a well researched, intricate, interconnecting story. Someone who makes me feel rewarded for my 100% completion tendencies with all these little nuggets of story and character and clues that feels like it all adds up to something special.

A moment for me in AC Valhalla that reminded me of why I like this series so much is when the viking protagonist travels to "Vinland" and meets some First World People there, who in the game are speaking Iroquois. And there is no translation. Like the protagonist, you are stuck guessing what they are saying from their body language and context clues. It's such a cool way of getting you immersed in the story and setting, and it really stuck with me. And then of course I searched online for a translation, and it feels like the writing team integrated the lore and culture here very respectfully. Like with ACIII, it's clear they consulted with real current speakers of the language, and in addition there is an inclusion of a Mohawk creation myth (which also ties into tidbits explored in both ACIII and AC Rogue). And those creation myths might have been shared simply as a nod to the culture being presented here, but it might also tie into the greater mystery surrounding the Isu, which is cool to speculate about.

Basically, there are some really cool storytelling things happening in this series, and it often motivates me to research and learn a bit more about real history. I just can't give it up.

I've heard that AC Mirage was more of a "return to basics", and optimistically I hope that means the game mechanics are returning to more of what gives Assassin's Creed it's own unique identity. But as long as they keep giving me those narrative nuggets of gold, I'm stuck for the ride.

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Crew Heads with Reader: Suits

G/N. Silly. You wonder about their outfits. (Jake Kim, Eli Jang, Johan Seong, Samuel Seo). Non plot panel spoilers for 505 under cut!

Bro Code | Dinner | Shopping | Television | Gacha | Board Games | Suits

"Why do you always wear suits to fight?" You ask the four men lounging in your living room.

You hold up their dry cleaning. "A. It's costing a fortune to clean and B. Aren't, I dunno, track pants comfier?"

"I don't." Johan pipes up and you get the urge to pat him on the head. His custom God Dog designs are frankly adorable.

It is utterly charming having him show you the latest outfit he has drawn. With a logo and everything. He never explicitly asks what you think, but you know he seeks your approval anyway.

"Not you," you agree, giving Johan a warm smile that makes him avert his eyes and his ears turn pink.

The rest of the guys, Samuel, Jake and Eli exchange shifty glances at your questions.

"And there's no way-" You hold up a rag. You assume it must have been a Big Deal jacket at some point before it was torn up, "-They said they can repair this. They said I was out of my mind."

Jake had surmised it was a long shot. It was technically missing the lapels. And sleeves. And had long gashes down the back so most of it was ripped off and in tatters.

You're not wrong that it's costing a lot and he thought he would chance a repair instead of having to get a new jacket for Lineman.

You're right, unfortunately. He's going to have to look into some tracksuits instead.

"Thanks for trying," he says with a shrug.

The thing is, the Big Deal uniform just looks cool. Men in suits, who doesn't like that?

Samuel pre-Workers and pre-Big Deal also favoured suits because of how it looked. Authoritative. Like he means business. He wasn't a huge fan of the Workers white but the status that came along with it more than compensated for the colour.

Eli was convinced during the Fifth Affiliates when he was provided made-to-measure Workers suits to represent the crew. Warren and Max and Derrick didn't need much convincing after the girls oohed and aahed over it.

Except the Hostel budget didn't stretch to nice tailored suits, so they had to settle for black shirts and pants.

Still. That was cool enough.

But they can't admit that.

It's embarrassing to let you know they base their whole outfit on what looks good because truth be told, they can barely stretch in those things.

The material isn't made for high kicks and full body slams and sudden movements.  One lunge and they risk a split along the asscrack.

It's why their clothes end up torn off so often.

And yes, there has been awkward popped buttons or ripped seams during inopportune moments mid fight when even Gun Park's eyes momentarily flickered down to exposed underwear or an ass cheek hanging out.

But goddamn, the aesthetics.

"It's comfortable," Eli says unconvincingly, as you raise an eyebrow at his answer.

Somewhere to your right, you hear Johan mutter, "Liar."

[okkotsuus]

jjk + domestic acts !

featuring: yuuji i. megumi f. nobara k. yuuta o. maki z. toge i. satoru g. suguru g. toji f. kento n. sukuna r. choso k.

contents: short head canons. fluff. established relationship. 900 words.

yuuji cooks for you. whether it be making you dinner when you come over for a date or making your lunch for school. he would be the type to make super cute bentos with the pictures made with seaweed. he also cuts everything into the sizes you like. he always waits to take the first bite so he can better see your reaction when you do. the smile and glow in your eyes fill him more than any meal could

megumi walks to the side where cars come from. whether it be walking on the side of the sidewalk closer to the road, closer to the middle lane in a parking lot, or walking between you and oncoming traffic when crossing the road. he always has a hand on you too just in case, usually, he prefers to rest it on the small of your back, but he also wraps his arm around your waist.

nobara buys things you like or she'll think you like them whenever she goes anywhere. she loves bringing the spoils of her travels back to you, a metaphorical tail wagging. she also gets things that remind her of you, like something from a show you watched together, or the candy she saw you eating before she left. like a crow who collects shiny things to bring back to the nest.

yuuta waits up for you when you get home late. if it's you coming back late from a mission, he'll be in the common area. if it's you coming back from a home visit, he'll be on the porch to help you with your bags. if it's you coming back from class and he gets back first, he's waiting outside your room. if he knows that you'll be gone overnight he sleeps in your room, not very peacefully, but it allows him to at least get a few hours.

maki orders for you. whether its placing reservations, ordering your food, or making a complaint for you, she's got it handled. she knows that these things can make people nervous and she doesn't every want you to feel like that if she can prevent it. whenever you go out as a class and she can't, she makes panda or yuuta order for you. because toge kinda can't.

toge leaves you notes. he leaves them on your bag, on your pillow, on your door, anywhere you have to look. usually they're a little compliment (ex. "your hair looks really pretty today") and a little doodle of him, you, or some random thing. he writes them on these little note cards that have onigiri designs along the border. it's how he makes up for not being able to say sweet nothings to you.

satoru carries your things for you. unless it's a cursed tool or something that you may need in a moments notice, it's in his hands. when you go shopping he is happily trailing behind you with all of you things. if you're going on a trip he carries both of your suitcases, he tries to carry all carry-ons as well but if he can't he'll give you the lightest one(s). he carries all the groceries in one trip too.

suguru always drives. if you need to go anywhere he's got his blacked-out benz's keys twirling idly around his finger. he puts his arm behind your headrest so he can turn around fully when backing out. puts his arm in front of you if he has to suddenly break. keeps his hand on the center console so you can hold hands. you get the aux, he likes your music.

toji doesn't pay attention to anybody but you. whether it's some random person flirting with him from across the room, he doesn't spare them a second thought unless you bring it up. sometimes he doesn't even notice cause he's too busy watching how the amber glow of the dying sun highlights your face and makes your eyes sparkle when you turn to him.

kento does the mundane things for you. if you're complaining about needing to fill your tank, he'll do it and pay for it. he starts you coffee for you so that when you wake up it's already made and cooled down. he starts the bath for you when you get home. he lays out your keys, purse, and other things on the table for you before he leaves.

sukuna scares away any and all danger. curses, humans, sorcerers, you name it; none of them with bad intentions dare to even look at you with him around. if they think you're alone and try to take advantage, he's already behind them. sometimes he disposes of him while you look away from him, he's back intact by the time you've turned around, a small splat of red on his cheek? its surely just the jam from the crepe you bought him.

choso listens to everything you say. he listens intently, his eyes never leave you except to briefly blink or if he sees motion. he looks at you like you're preaching when you're talking about this cloud that you saw that looked like a turd. nods intently and lets out soft 'mhm's while his elbows rest on his knees. leaned towards you like plants lean towards the sun.

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