#that's enough of this I never wanna advertise again

[deoidesign]

My friends are demanding I post about my shop

I sell books, prints, keychains, pins, and stickers! (I have more than is pictured, you can see everything in the shop)

I also have some Genshin Impact pins (and some prints) for if you're not interested in stuff from the obscure webcomics I make

But if you are interested in stuff from the obscure webcomics I make, I've got a ton of stuff! It's taking up a lot of space in my apartment, help me out!

[vitalverstappen]

I Look in People's Windows - O. Piastri

summary: you had called it quits with Oscar, but what if you met his eyes one more time?

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

warnings none :)

word count: 1k

a/n: in honor of Oscar getting P2 in quali today, I figured I'd post this, enjoy :)

masterlist

the tortured drivers' department masterlist

You couldn’t avoid Oscar Jack Piastri if you tried. Not that you did try, but that man was literally everywhere. Billboards, races broadcasted at the bars, TV advertisements. Hell, even your love of Monster got ruined by his face. You loved living in Melbourne for the most part, but having your ex-boyfriend be the poster child of your city wasn’t necessarily ideal. 

To make matters worse, you kept checking up on him. Thankfully you haven’t reached out to him personally, but you were constantly typing his name into the search bar of your apps. When it wasn’t his name, it was Lando’s, McLaren’s or F1’s. All that just for a glimpse of the Aussie’s life.  

From the looks of it, he’s been doing great. McLaren has been dominating the grid, and overall, he seemed to be happy. 

Part of you wanted to block him. Part of you wanted to deactivate your social media, so you never had to see that stupid papaya on your feed ever again. The only time you’d be forced to see it was every single time you left your apartment. 

Easy, right?

But you couldn’t get yourself to block him. Or Lando. Or McLaren. Or even the F1 account. Deep down you wanted to be a part of it all again. 

You wanted to be the one that welcomed him home after a great race weekend. The one he would talk about his day with over dinner or a picnic in the park. The one he would share his deepest secrets and his life long dreams to. You wanted to be with him again. 

The reality of it was that you couldn’t, and it pained you more than actual breakup. Oscar was out living his dream as a Formula 1 driver, and you were stuck in southern Australia. 

The way things ended replayed constantly, like a movie stuck on a loop. Burned into your memory was the image of his tilted head when you asked if he wanted to stay together. The doubts you had while in the relationship now turned into doubts that you made the right call.

What if you and Oscar had worked out? What if you had moved to Europe with him when you started dating? What if you two put in just a little bit more effort? What if you saw him one more time?

The waves crashing against your body sent a cold shiver down your spine. Since you moved down under, you adored the tradition of going to the beach around the holidays, even if you had no one to spend it with. 

As you made your way back to your beach towel to dry off, you couldn’t help but stare at the couples celebrating the season together. They were living the dream, and all you ended up with was even more of a longing to have someone to hold. 

Your thoughts were cut short when a volleyball ended up at your feet. Picking it up, you looked around to find who it belonged to. 

“Over here!” A voice called “y/n?” 

That voice was recognizable from anywhere. Sure enough, your eyes met his, and it felt like the first time all over again. 

“Hey,” you said as you tossed him the ball “here” 

“Thanks. Enjoying the beach as well?” He asked 

“Yeah, you could say so” You answered, taking a glance at your blanket only a few meters away “Wanna sit?” 

Oscar yelled something to his friends and then turned back to you “I would love to” 

Neither of you said anything for the first few seconds. It wasn’t necessarily awkward having your ex-boyfriend around, but it was definitely unexpected. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to break the silence. Oscar tilted his head, just like he used to do when he was confused. “I mean, why are you back in Melbourne?” 

“The season’s over. We’re all on winter break, and I figured I would come home for the holidays” He answered 

You nodded “Right. I forgot that was around the corner”

“It’s hard to believe. Year flew by fast” He mumbled “Are you going home for the holidays or staying here?” 

“Probably just staying here” You admitted

“Makes sense. You always get nervous when you fly,” He said. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Anyway, it’s been a while. How’ve you been?” 

“Good” You lie, hoping he forgot how bad you were at it “Works been the same. You?” 

A sigh escaped from Oscar’s lips, “Honestly? Not good.”

“Oh?” You questioned. ‘Not good’ was the last answer you were expecting from him. He was honest, but never usually that honest. “Anything happen?”

He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked out to sea before meeting your eyes again. His were more somber this time, almost as if they were longing for something. “I’ve been missing you, a lot actually. I should’ve never let you walk away”

“I’m sorry?” Was all you were able to get out. 

Oscar’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, and it wasn’t from the sun. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything-” He began and started to get up from the blanket.

“No, Osc” You began. The sound of the old nickname you gave him made him stop where he was. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

You motioned for him to sit back down with you, waiting to continue until he did. “I should’ve never walked away. I’ve missed you too” You confessed 

“You wanna talk about this?” He asked and you nodded “If you wanna talk about it, I can ditch the guys for the rest of the day. They’ll live.” 

A chuckle escaped your lips “I would love to. I should probably get out of the sun soon anyway. I’m going to burn”

“You’re the only person I know who’s worst enemy is the sun” He laughed with you “And you chose to move to one of the sunniest places in the world”

“I guess you can tell I didn’t think that one through” You remarked 

For the first time since the breakup, you didn’t have to wonder about the ‘what ifs’. You didn’t have to avoid his face on a billboard or resort to stalking him on the internet. His eyes did meet yours one more time.

[narcolini]

white room - pt. 2

johnny davis x gn!reader, 18+, canon typical themes and language, 4.3k words, 2 of ? part one here a/n: tw for reader talking about their dad being dead (sorry pops) & thankyou darling kay (hausofmamadas) for the gif <3

Your idea of nice and his idea of nice are two whole different things. Not to say it isn’t a nice place, you know, it’s cute, but it isn’t nice nice, in the fancy kind of way. Which is probably your own fault for letting so many hotshot advertisement guys take you out and getting you used to it—and that’s no good at all, cause all they wanna do is impress you into sleeping with one of them, and all Johnny wants to do is eat pizza by the slice. Apparently.

He says “they got the good stuff here” as he holds the door open and by the time you’re sitting with a pie in front of you, yeah, you gotta say, it’s a Hell of a piece. So cheesy you gotta stretch your whole arm up to get it away from the plate, and when Johnny does it, you hook a finger around the stringy bit and pull it right into your mouth. Half thieving, half flirting. You figure he won’t mind so much about that, considering how good you’re looking for him, and he don’t. He’s even smiling as you chew it up. 

“You said you work in an office?” he asks, before taking a big bite of that piece you stole from. Washing it down with a Dr Pepper too, cause this place is too family friendly for anything other than a good old fashioned soda pop. 

“Mhmm. One that does them ads in the paper and on leaflets and stuff.”

“You write ‘em?”

“I wish,” you drag out, fighting the urge to roll your eyes all the way into the back of your head. “I sit in meetings and take notes, then I sit at my desk and I type up the notes. Then I go take it to my boss and he says, ‘thanks, doll, ‘nother meeting at twelve’. Then it all goes fuckin’ round again.”

He snorts, cause you’re funny and he sees it, not like those other guys. “You don’t like it then?”

“Oh, I like anything that pays me to do nothin,” you say. “The other week, they gave me overtime to sit and watch the phone incase some big important call came through. Well, that thing didn’t ring once, not from the moment I sat down, to the second I got up. Easiest buck I ever made.”

He blows out again, laughing over the neck of his pop, and you put the corner of your own slice into your mouth. You shouldn’t talk while you’re chewing, and you don’t ever do it, promise, but you’re nearly done with the eating part when you ask him, “And what d’you do?”

Well, you’d’ve thought you’d asked him the answer to the universe from the way he’s thinking about it. You wait for him and he takes another drink, then another bite, and then he itches his jaw with the end of his thumb, though no-one ever gets no itchy jaw like that, and says, “I drive trucks.”

“Yeah? I figured riding bikes was your job.”

Johnny don’t really say nothin to that, which he does a lot you’re finding. Thinks a sort of a look and a noise like he’s saying something is a fine enough answer for anything that he doesn’t really wanna answer. Like a whole third of your conversation so far has been just that—you talking and him listening, sure, he’s good at that part, but then he hums or something and it’s right back to you talking again. 

Must be how he likes it though, cause he ain’t stopped you yet and you could talk for the whole world if they wanted you to.

“What’s your deal?” you ask, after watching him eat an entire slice without saying a thing. 

“My deal?”

“Yeah.”

“I gotta have a deal?”

“Everyone’s got a deal.” You look at him, really look at him, take all the lifelines and scars in like you never put your eyes on him before. Find yourself staring at his hands too, at the tan line there, or the missing tan, you guess, right there on his ring finger. The rest of him’s done up in that way like he’s been out in the sun too much, all except for that one little bit. The shape of a thing that’s not there no more. “You married?” 

You wanna know, and you’re not afraid of asking about it, cause if he is this is gonna be a real easy fix. You out the door, him taking the bill. 

He sighs, long and slow, then wipes his mouth with the screwed up napkin from next to him. “Divorced,” he says.

“Kids?”

“Two girls.” Which explains the pizza place. He don’t know what nice is anymore, unless you can take a kid there and make them real happy about it.

“Do they like you?” 

One of his little eyebrows tweaks up at that, then sinks again into a mean frown that you’d hate to be on the real end of—cause he don’t mean it now, he’s just prickly about talking about it. You can tell. And who can blame him, you’re asking a lot of questions in the same sort of way that your mother hates so much. No manners, she says, no patience neither.

“Yeah,” he tells you, “they like me.” Then his hand and that napkin comes waving over the table at you. “What—what is this?”

You shrug, not hiding nothin. “Just getting a look at you. Figuring you out.”

He sniffs. Nods. “You gonna go and type all this shit up later?”

You’re thinking he means it like a dig, like you should feel some type of way about the sort of person he’s accusing you of being, but it’s got you smiling still. Cause he’s talking now and with real character too. “I might do. Been a while since I heard something really worth typing up.”

“And what’s yours,” he grumbles, pissier than usual, “what’s your deal that everyone’s gotta have?”

“Dead Pops,” you tell him, and you say it so quick that all the attitude drops right off of him. 

His head shakes—just the one time. “What’s that mean?”

“Well it means he’s six feet under, Johnny.”

“No—why’s that…you didn’t like your old man or something?”

“I liked him fine. Just never saw him enough and then he went and died before I could make it up to him.”

For some reason, he nods like he gets the feeling, but his eyes are all of a sudden shy of looking at you, like you might be upset at him for asking in the first place. You think the noise he makes is him trying to say sorry, or passing on his condolences, but no man you ever met has had any kind of manner when it comes to being sensitive, so you figure that’s the best he can do.

“He was from round here,” you say, “that house of mine was his first, you know.”

Another nod.

“Thought coming back would help me feel like, I don’t know, like I was connected to him or something. Like it might make me feel a little less lost.”

Then his eyes are up again and he don’t look so scared of upsetting you no more. “Did it work?” he asks. “You feel better now you’re here?”

You hum a little, like you need some time to think up the answer that’s been screaming at you since you unpacked the very first box. “Nope.” You shake your head, real sure of it. “Turns out, it just makes you fuckin’ lonely, living in a dead man’s house.”

He lets out a big long breath at that, like he’d been holding it in, and you get to smell the cigarette he smoked half an hour ago, right in front of your face. “Yeah, alright,” he says, “that’s a Hell of a deal.”

You smile. “Now you’re gettin' it.”

He points at the empty bottle in front of you. “You want another one?”

On all them other dates, this is where you’d say no thanks, I’ll take a ride home and an early night, if it’s no bother to you. And every time, all those other guys would be very bothered by it, might even make you pay for your half and a cab too, but not one part of you wants to find out what Johnny’d say to all that. You don’t want another pop and you don’t wanna go home neither. For all his quiet, and his funny ways—like he don’t always look like he wants to be talking to you—you’re finding him awful good to be around.

Makes as much sense to you as it makes no sense at all, but sometimes it’s just like that. People you can be yourself with, you know. People who make you wanna be so much like yourself, that it makes you feel all crazy about it. 

So you tell him that, in a sort of a way. You say, “I’ll be honest, Johnny, I’m feeling like something a little stronger,” and he smiles real big at that.

_________

Then you’re in another bar, and it ain’t the bar you said you didn’t wanna be in, but it is a bar that’s full of Vandals still.

Well, not full, guess you could count five of them if you wanted to. Six including Johnny. And they are all hanging about in that one back corner, while you and him got a standing table somewhere in the middle, so you figure he’s not really broken his promise all the way. Just twisted it a little. Plus with the noise of the place, you can hardly make them out above the rest of it, so you set your eyes on him and forget about them. Who knows, right? This whole town could be swarming with those biker guys, but you ain’t never noticed it before cause you ain’t never noticed him before, and that’s not exactly his fault, is it? 

He’s standing real close to you too now, to the one side of you, instead of opposite like in the pizza place, and you can feel the heat coming off of him like fire. Like those big ones in your Grandpa’s house at Christmastime. All flame and soot and crackling warmth that you wanna put your hands into. 

Something about it makes you a little erratic, makes you blurt out another question with even less manners than usual. And it’s a real mood killer too, “So why’d you get divorced?” you say. 

You asked him that, you really did, and while he’s thinking about how to take it, you drink down half your beer in one big stinking gulp. If your mother could see you now? Jeez.

“You really gonna ask me that before I’ve even…?” He points to the beers, well his beer, cause yours is still in your hands like you’re scared he’ll take it from you. “C’mon,” he says.

He’s got a point, sure, but also you been here a minute and it don’t seem like it’s your fault that he hasn’t taken a drink yet. Too busy smoking one of them cigarettes again, and smirking at you like he finds your dumb mouth all kinds of charming, when he should be judging you like a real gentleman would. 

“You don’t gotta tell me,” you say, shrugging with it.

“Hm.” Another answer without answering—and this time, it kinda sorta bothers you.

He puts the smoke between his fingers, to take a long sip of his beer, and you find yourself reaching across to take it from him. Not a smoker, but you can smoke if the company does, you know. Which happens to be a lot at work, cause those office guys go like chimneys when they’re thinking, on and on and on, until the room’s full of the stuff. And then you don’t even need to have one yourself because you’re puffing it as much as they are, right, but it’s nice to feel included still.

This time, you’re only doing it to give you something to do, and give him something to look at while he thinks so much about all the things he don’t wanna tell you. Which seems to be doing the trick just fine.

“Didn’t work out,” he says, right when you think he’s over it, didn’t work out. “That’s all it is.”

You tap the ash off, feeling him stare as you take a drag and blow it away from him. “Well if your girls like you still, that must be most of the truth.”

“Nah, that’s it. That’s the whole truth, nothin’ else.”

“Alright then.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

He’s getting antsy, prickly all over again. “I believe you,” you tell him, looking at him all serious like, his face right there next to yours. “Marriage is a crazy complex thing, right? I guess I always assume it takes more than ‘didn’t work’ to put it to bed, but if you say yours didn’t, then it didn’t. Who am I to know?”

He doesn’t nod or do nothin, he just squints back at you and says, “Were your parents divorced?”

You laugh, and it’s sort of rude, cause it’s right in his face. Probably felt the gust of it straight into his mouth. “There you go, treating me like a kid again,” you explain, and he frowns like he don’t get it. Funny, all that wisdom in his big old head, and he can’t seem to work out what you mean. “You figure I couldn’t be old enough to have a marriage of my own? Had to ask about my parents instead?”

And you got him, caught him with his hands all red, cause he gets fidgety with it. “Well have you?” he asks.

You pout to hide your smirk. “No.”

Then his frown is swapped clean out for a laugh, and that smile that you’re sorta growing fond of. “So, just cause I didn’t know that about you, yeah, I’m treating you like a kid, am I?”

“Yeah.” You’re leaning in real close now, shoulders touching and everything. “I would’a liked it if you thought I could’ve had a marriage, and a divorce, just like you, Johnny.”

“Ah, right. Alright.” His head dips a little, and he’s looking all over your face like he’s hungry for every word you ain’t said yet, his voice in almost a whisper. “So how was your divorce?” he asks.

“Oh, awful.” You flash your eyes big, so dramatic. “He took everything I had—and all ten of the kids.” 

He hisses with his teeth, really playing along with it. “That’s a mean fuck right there,” he says, and if you’re honest, you kinda wish you weren’t lying for a sec, cause hearing him say something like that, real ex-husband or not, it kinda does something to you. Makes you giddy in a teenage way. 

“That’s what I told him,” you say back, but you don’t sound serious no more, you’re all breathy and quiet like you’re losing your guts. “Lucky we’re both single again, huh?”

“Lucky," he says, “yeah.”

Boy, you could’ve sworn the whole place went still. Every noise fell away like you were the only two people in there.

And he’s looking at you in that way, the eye contact, you know, in that real eatable way that makes you want take him home right now, or better yet, right into the bathrooms at the back of the bar there. But that’s crazy talk. That’s really real crazy talk. That’s the kind of thing you regret when your heads pounding the next day, and you don’t remember how that tap shaped bruise got onto your asscheek, never mind wether or not you’re seeing the guy again.

So, being good about it, you move your eyes from the door to the group of guys you been ignoring this whole time, and you ask him, “So when are you gonna introduce me to your little friends?”

He goes like a statue—minus his forehead, of course, that thing scrunches up like he lost you for a minute and he’s having to really squint just to see you again. “What I gotta introduce you to them for?”

“They’re your family, ain’t they?”

He holds his hand out, and it takes you a second to realise he’s asking for the cigarette back, the one that’s nearly gone, burning away in your fingers still. You give it to him, half thinking to apologise for wasting it, but he just plops it right back into his mouth like it’s nothin. He gets one pull out of it and then smushes it, dead, into the ash tray. “S’a lot, for a second date, no? Meeting the family.”

You laugh almost. “You counting last night as the first?”

“I’m counting pizza as the first,” he says.

You can’t help it, you’re still smiling at him, and blushing a little too. “Something bout that feels like you’re cheating me outta what I deserve.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” he says, all careful like, “we can count this whole night as the first, if you want, but I don’t bring first dates to the club either.”

“Fine.” He wins. “Then let’s call this one the second, whichever way you wanna look at it, and I still wanna meet ‘em.”

“Nah. Not—not today.”

For the first time in your life, you don’t feel like pushing until you get what you want. He’s still messing with the butt of that cigarette, spinning it round and round in the ashtray, so you figure he got a reason behind that skull of his, and a good one too.

Well, you’re willing to pretend like he might, anyway. 

“Okay. How about some names then? So I know who to picture when you’re telling me your stories.”

His lip quirks up. “You wanna hear my stories?”

“Oh, all of ‘em.” You nudge him, elbow to elbow, and drop your head onto your shoulder, in that real cute way that makes your hair bounce, just to look at him. “Please, Johnny?”

He lets go of the smoke with a sigh that doesn’t really mean what he wants it to mean, and crosses his arms on top of the table. “One on the lefts Corky,” he says, nodding that way. “Then Wahoo, Cal, Cockroach.”

You follow his direction, all good and quiet and listening, and put the names to the faces as best you can. Only then he stops and you have to poke him, “And that tall movie star on the end?”

He waits like he’s thinking about it. “That’s Benny.”

“Just Benny?”

“Yeah. Just Benny.”

But that don’t make no sense to you, cause all these guys are never just anyone, unless they’re someone important, you know, everybody’s got something in a club like that. “He don’t got some funny name too?” you ask, and Johnny shakes his head. “Why not?”

“Cause he don’t need nothin—he’s just, some people are just…” He shrugs, screwing his brows a little. “He’s just Benny.” 

“And you’re just Johnny.”

Who’s just humming in reply now, saying yeah without using his words cause he don’t need to, and you keep letting him be about it.

“Well,” you start, now that neither of you are looking at those Vandals no more, “what name would you give me?” 

He doesn’t even try. “I dunno,” he says. 

“C’mon, Johnny. I know you know, if you thought about it, you probably named all those guys.” Minus Benny. Just Benny.  

He groans like you’re really troubling him by asking for it and reaches for another smoke from his pack. “Let’s see,” he says. Now he’s thinking. “I guess, something short.” The lighter flashes by his chin then goes away again in a snap. “Something like Lips.” 

First time he’s left you speechless. Really cotton mouthed and speechless. “Lips?” you repeat, and you hate to say it, but you’re almost squeaking. Lips?

“Mhmm.”

“Why’s that?” you ask him, more serious now than you have been this whole time, so close that you could burn your nose on the end of his cigarette. “And don’t say cause they look nice.”

“Even if it’s true?”

You laugh like you can’t believe it. “I don’t care if it’s true, that’s not the answer.”

This guy, he has the nerve to smirk like he’s winning, and he shouldn’t be doing none of that until he can give you a real good reason. “Alright.” He lifts his shoulders a little, all innocent like, with the smoke snaking up between you. “Then it’s cause you, you know, you…”

“Yeah?” You nod, pulling it out of him. “Go on.”

“You like to talk a little, you know.”

“Oh, I do?”

“Yeah, you do.”

And you’re not offended but it keeps going like you are, with a laugh stuck behind your teeth. “Always going on, am I?”

He smiles, easy like he’s not even got to try no more. “Got some real lips on you,” he says. 

You snort, big—so attractive, puffing it out your nose like that—and set your head on your hand. Elbow going right into some sticky spill of God knows what, too. “I don’t know if I hate it, or love it,” you tell him. “Feels like an insult and a compliment all in one.”

He points with his smoking finger, but not much cause he knows how close you are, just like you know how close he is. So aware of it, it’s making you breathe funny. “That’s how you know you got a name,” he says. “Half the guys, yeah, they hate what they get called, but no-one ever says anything about it.”

“Well we know I will,” you tell him, and then you’re both laughing. Real close, real warm, laughing like you’ve known each other years, not days—and Hell, it ain’t even that. You guys only just hit the twenty-four hour mark. It may be the most successful date-slash-dates that you’ve ever had, and it’s not even over yet. You don’t even have the guys full name or number.

“Your beer’s going warm, you know.”

Oh. You haven’t even touched it, or thought about touching it, since you started that whole thing about his divorce. But his own bottle goes up and back, then down again, empty, all while you’re watching him do it. So you push him yours after, letting him finish that one too. 

“You better get me a new one, then,” you say, while his lips are on the end still, cause you haven’t had enough of him yet. “Unless you wanna take me home?”

He stops for a second, half-way about to leave with a money clip already in his hand, just to look at you with a sort of smirk, sort of curious thing in his eye. Then he says, all low and cool with it, “That code for somethin?”

Well, you feel like you made a monster. He’s starting to get all sorts of familiar and now you’re him, you’re the wolf in that damn bar. 

“No,” you say, sounding like the liar that you sorta feel like you are, “it’s whatever. I didn’t say you’d be coming in now, did I?”

He laughs out his nose and nods like you said everything he wanted to hear, though really, you’ve got no idea what he wants from you. No other man you’ve ever said that to has cared to ask what you mean by it, even if you wanted it to be something or not, they always assumed it was meant the way they wanted it to mean, but not Johnny. Johnny looked more scared by the idea than he looked excited. Like he thought he was about to have to let you down all gentle like, slow and careful so your feelings didn’t get hurt. 

“I’ll get us some more,” he says, leaving for real that time, and his hand’s on your back until he’s too far away for his fingers to reach. 

It’s only when he’s gone that you figure he must’ve told all those guys to ignore you and him, just like you’d decided to ignore them, cause the second he’s gone they’re looking right over at you. Wahoo, Corky, all of them, but not that Benny. He either don’t care or hasn’t noticed, and for some reason or another, that makes you like him the most. Only one of them that can keep his eyes on his own nose and outta your business. The rest are bold enough to stare like you don’t see them, even talking and laughing the way boys do when the teacher goes for more chalk.

You try not to care but it’s starting to really itch. You’re rubbing your arms like they’re crawling all over you. 

“Here."

And Thank God he’s back. You take the beer and drink it like you’ve had nothing but sand in your mouth for days, which makes Johnny smile like you’re crazy, but you keep going. “That family of yours got no manners,” you tell him afterwards.

He doesn’t even look. “Yeah, yeah they’re like that,” is all he says about it. What a hero, right? He takes a sip of his own drink then wipes his lips dry with the back of his hand, and he catches you staring at him, but he says nothin about that neither. “You doing anything on Friday?” he asks.

“No.” Then you’re smiling and forgetting all about the rabble in the back. “Well, I wasn't until right now, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He nods. That’s exactly what he’s getting at. Seems like he’s thinking to take up your whole calendar, one day at a time, and you’re not feeling like doing a damn thing about it. Go figure.

_____

part three >>>>>

tagging: @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas @hoodeddreams13 @businesscalamity @literally-lani

[genericpuff]

someone responded to me on reddit with their own theory as to what's going on with the eisners so i'm gonna share it here because it's worth reading 🍵

like there's definitely the aspect of it being a Webtoons Originals at play as well, I obviously can't feasibly prove that WT's is paying out the Eisners for their wins and that's not an accusation I wanna be throwing around willy-nilly, but the brand affiliation alone almost definitely factors into it all (and it definitely doesn't help the Eisners seem legit when they keep awarding the same comic 3 years in a row).

There was also a comment I found in the /r/comicbooks sub from the perspective of a former judge-

Considering how much work it would take to properly read the entirety of the nominees - as most webcomics are long-form and will require starting from scratch - I wouldn't be shocked at all if the win came down to "well we know this one won last year, and it has 6 million subscribers, so yeah, that one". Again, I don't want to accuse the judges or the organization of anything, but I do think at best the results of the judging are going to be affected if not outright stunted by the process itself.

All that said, it doesn't take a genius to look at how LO has fared over the last three years and understand that even from a purely objective point of view, nothing about the comic stacks up against the other nominees. It's dumb af because I'm seeing some people arguing "well there were only FOUR other nominees, which one do YOU think should win? you don't read those other four comics?? well then OBVIOUSLY LO deserves the win!" because... no? That's not how that works? It's such a strawman argument to justify defaulting the win to LO just because people on IG might not have ever read a comic like Matchmaker or Asturias before. Just because the people complaining about the LO win might not be familiar with the other nominees doesn't mean those nominees aren't bringing more to the table than LO. Which a lot of them very much are. Shit, Evan Dahm alone has been creating comics online since like the mid 2000's (??) he's an incredibly prolific creator with a lot of successful works under his belt, but apparently LO should get the win anyways... because LO's readers have never read 3rd Voice before? Come on. This is like that time when TOOL beat out Taylor Swift in their album release sales and a bunch of Swifties were upset because they had no idea who TOOL was, meanwhile all the dedicated middle aged dads were over the moon to finally see some recognition for a classic band that absolutely 100% deserved the spotlight after going so long without a new album. Swift has more than enough victories under her belt, she'll live lmao

At best this was definitely the "retired athlete on their way out" win, as a pal so gracefully put it-

And really, that last sentence really does get across the essence of LO in a nutshell - it's celebrated for being a story that never really existed to anyone who never actually looked closer. A lot of the things that the comic is praised for is often made up by an audience of people projecting their headcanon into what they were reading, because without it the comic had nothing to say. LO has to be good, because that's what they were told from day one, because if it wasn't good it certainly wouldn't be advertised this much or winning all these awards or getting all these merch opportunities or getting all this 'jealous' hate... right?

[britcision]

I’m pretty sure the people bitching about not giving money to tumblr are the same ones who complain when AO3 or wikipedia ask for donations, so I’m just gonna clarify something

Running a website is not free

Even if they made no changes and did only maintenance, they still need to pay for server costs, expert programmers for when something goes wrong, storage (although frankly storage is cheap as chips these days which is nice)

They need to keep up with the capabilities of new tech like improvements to web browsers, never mind their own apps keeping pace with old and new tech developments

Backwards compatibility (being able to run the updated app on old tech) is a massive problem for apps on a regular basis, because there are people out here using an iPod and refusing to update software

There’s a reason every few years apps like Animal Crossing will issue an update that breaks backwards compatibility and you can only play if your phone is running more recent software

This shit costs money even before you look into the costs of human moderation, which I’m not exactly convinced is a big part of their current budget but fucking should be if we want an actual fix for their issues with unscreened ads and reporting bigots

Ignoring that it’s apparently illegal for companies not to actively chase profits, running Tumblr is expensive

And advertisers know we fucking hate them here

They’re still running ads, which we know because they’re all over the damn place, but half the ads are for Tumblr and its store

Other ad companies know we are not a good market, so they’re not willing to put the money in

Tumblr runs at a $30 million deficit, every year, because hosting a site is expensive

They are trying to take money making ideas from other social medias because they’re not a charity; they need to make enough money to keep the site going

If you want tumblr to keep existing, never mind fixing its many issues that require human people to be paid to do jobs like moderation, they will need money

Crabs cost $3

One crab day a year can fix the deficit and hammer home for Tumblr that:

A) we do want to be here and want the site to keep going

And B) they do not need to do the normal social media money making strategies we all hate

They need a way to make money if you want the hellsite to exist, because we live in a capitalist hellscape and cannot all be AO3

If they think they can make enough to keep running without pulling all the tricks we hate, they have no reason to pull said tricks

But they need money

And a way to make money

And if we can show them we can do that, there is a significantly higher chance they will listen to us, the user base they need money from, than if we don’t

Tumblr isn’t perfect, or anywhere close. They need someone to actually screen the paid ads they put through, they need to take the transphobia, antisemitism, and bigotry seriously

These Are Jobs That Will Cost Money

People Need To Be Fucking Paid For Their Work

Tumblr Is Not Run By Volunteers For Free And Nor Should It Be

Paying People Is Good Actually

So if you wanna get all high and mighty over $3/year, by all means, go spend that hard earned cash elsewhere

Good luck finding a perfect and morally pure business to give it to though

Being a whiny negative asshole isn’t more appealing just because you’ve put yourself on a moral soapbox, it just means the asshole is a little higher up

For all the whining about “all the new updates are terrible this site is unusable”…. It’s one fuck of a lot more usable than it was in 2017, 2018, 2020

And yeah, it’s going back down and most of the newer ones have been fucking annoying and I would also like them to stop

But it got up somehow and that means it could do that again

Hope is more fun than edgy nihilism

August 1st is a good and exciting day to summon a crab army

[bitterbutblue]

september 1998

~

episode 1: august 1998

chat i know i said its academia!reader and trust me it IS this is just one part of the PROCESS just TRUST ME we r not making this just a romance series this is exploring friendships, self identity, familial matters and more too!! this is a very ambitious work and i hope itll be completed fully ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Draw, hold, release.

Each motion is practically engrained in your head, a fluid movement more rather than each individual step. The arrow flies faster than you can register, hitting the centre of the yellow target. This is the only thing that can occupy your mind now, and you have to stay focused. If you keep getting distracted, you know the worst will happen.

It's been hell trying to keep yourself focused when you see her every morning, and in 5 out of your 8 classes. You watch her as she almost immediately makes new friends, talking to them lightly as if it's second nature. She talks so lightly with such an airiness in her voice, with that smile of hers that ended up on local billboards for local advertisements before she left.

That smile that resulted in your first ever crush.

Feelings have long faded now, but you find her staring at you from across the classroom that has you feeling so terribly awkward. You avoid her as much as you can in class and after the first day you've never found yourself needing to talk to her again. You want it to stay that way. She was almost immediately surrounded by people who wanted to talk to the new girl, meet the new girl, date the new girl. You saw this as an excuse to leave her.

You walked away.

"God, Y/n, you keep this up and you'll be taking my name as top archer."

That familiar, whiny voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"You were never the top archer to begin with, March."

March pouts, the end of summer's sun shining the soccer field with this low shade of orange that embraces you every summer evening. March wipes the sweat from under her bangs, putting her bow down with a sigh.

"Just let me dream of being in your position one day."

"Dreams are all they are." You stick your tongue out childishly as the coach shouts whatever about packing up and debriefing. You put your bow back onto your stand, sighing as you look at your target, walking towards it after the three beeps. "I'm one off from 360."

"Bitch, I was not even close to 320. Shut up."

You shrug, pulling out the arrows before moving to help March move the stands back to where they were normally stored. You grunt as you begin to push against the large wooden frame, feeling the splintery wood against your shoulder.

"My mom would kill me if she saw the scores."

"Yukong. She was a famous archer wasn't she?"

"Literally got gold in the Luofu 1982 championship." You mumble as March moves to open the shed door so you can roll the stand inside. "Won't stop bugging me about attending Penacony 2000 championships."

"Will you go?" March tilts her head to the side, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Not even good enough to."

"You are literally one of the top archers of the country! You haven't ever tried qualifying-"

You don't say anything as you wheel the stand inside, parking it next to the fencing team's equipment. March's voice dies in her throat as you stand still, taking a deep breath in.

"Don't ask me about qualifying."

The room is filled with sudden silence as you swallow down your thoughts, just standing there and picking at the stray splinters sticking out from the stand.

"Let's not think too far ahead." You whisper with an awkward smile that doesn't meet your eyes. "It's in two years. I just wanna go to school now and be a kid."

March nods.

"Okay. Let's go now. Stelle and Dan Heng wanna meet us for dinner."

The grassy fields span on forever as you make your way down the fields to the road up ahead. You shift the bag to your other hand when something catches your eye. The same lilac hair that you see almost every morning now, where she lingers for just a second too long outside your house. And you see her lingering outside now again, staring at you from across the fields and her eyes don't leave yours after they meet. You stop walking, March coming to a halt next to you.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

You keep your eyes on Robin as she darts her eyes between you and March.

"Is it the new girl?"

"She's not new. I mean, well- yes she is. She's also like, well-"

"You're not making sense." March shifts her bodyweight as she lets out a loud sigh "Can we go get some food now? Please?"

"Yeah." You tear your eyes away from the girl "Let's-"

"Y/N!"

You freeze when she calls out your name, and you're scared to turn around beacuse you know she'll be closer now.

"March, I'll come find you later? We're meeting at Tseng's right?"

"Yeah." She nods uncertainly "Are you sure?"

You just nod, heaving your bag onto your shoulder as you turn around. Robin stands there with her school bag in her hands, slightly out of breath as she had run half-way across the field calling after your name. You can't fully understand the feeling in your chest, slightly bitter and definitely not a nice feeling. Like butterflies that are desperate to break out of the cavity in your chest.

"Can we talk?"

"Robin, I really don't think it matters that much-"

"Please?"

Her hand jerks slightly, as if she wanted to reach out to hold your hand but then had second thoughts about it almost immediately. You wished you didn't even see the way her hand moved.

"You just stopped."

She looks down.

"I know."

"You didn't even tell me what happened. Out of nowhere one day, just gone. I kept texting you, I kept mailing you. You never responded."

She swallows, still not making eye contact.

"You come back and you expected everything to be fine? I don't even know what happened, you started ghosting me for years. The only way I knew you were still alive was seeing your dad on the news."

You didn't expect yourself to get so emotional, especially when confronting a friend you hadn't seen since you were nine years old, who you hadn't talked to since you were fifteen. It really shouldn't be that big of a deal.

It really shouldn't have been.

"I had stuff going on too, you can't expect me to just-"

"At least shoot me an email! You could've done so much instead of fucking disappearing like that when you know I have no way of contacting you if you don't reach out."

Robin just stares at you and you hate the way tears well up in her eyes.

"I need to go. Let's just leave things the way they were." You mumble, looking down before lifting the bag onto your shoulder again.

"Wait, please-"

You turn around, not even wanting to look at her stupid face anymore.

Robin just stares after you, clenching her bag tightly.

"Youngest archer to qualify for the War Dance."

The feeling in her chest tightens as she watches you lift up your bow in the air, large grin on your face as your coach lifts you up. Fifteen years old and already achieving more than she could probably ever dream of achieving and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Jealousy, envy, the reason why humans strive to do better. The reason why we end up turning against each other.

Your text message stares back at her, and she can't find it in her to type. She can't find it in her to say 'Congratulations!' or 'I saw the news, I saw you on television' I saw you on television where I wanted to see myself. I saw you achieving what I could never do.

She turns of the computer shakily, a sick feeling to her stomach because why did she feel so upset? You were her best friend, her everything. You were finally achieving the dreams you told her about in the depths of the nights and now that it's happened, she finds herself upset. Envious. She tries to push down the monster that is eating her up but she can't.

"Robin, have you seen? Y/n just won the War Dance!"

She grips her fork tightly as her mother speaks and she can only nod stiffly.

"Robin, Y/n just competed in the international world cup, have you seen?"

She just nods.

She hasn't spoken to you since the night you made a name for yourself, and she feels terrible about it in so many ways she can't fully express it in words. She wants to support you so badly, but she wants to be you. She hates seeing you on television, but she finds herself watching every one of your competitions with a heart so heavy it anchors her down to the base of the earth. She hates you because you have everything she wants, she hates you so much she prints out all your articles and keeps it in a little box in her room.

She wanted to hate you when she saw you again for the first time across the street, but she felt drawn to you again, the need to approach you being too strong.

Now she doesn't know what to do.

By the time you sit down, they've all already ordered their meals (Stelle remembered your favourite, and you had to force yourself to stop from grinning like a fool). Dan Heng, who almost never shows up, sits with a wide smile and March leans into him, laughing.

"Come sit."

You move to quickly take a seat next to Stelle, dropping your bag onto the ground as you pick up the chopsticks, stomach practically growling at this point.

"What have you been up to while I was gone?"

"Nothing, Dan Heng was being boring." Stelle grins as she takes a whole dumpling into her mouth "Besides, update us. What's going on between you and Robin?"

You tense up

"March, you bitch."

"That's not very nice!"

She pouts at you, and you fake gag as you begin to eat.

"Nothing happened. She just wanted to talk to me for no reason."

"What's your history? She left to the states, so what?"

"It's more than just that." You grumble "She just ghosted me one day. After I got into the War Dance she just stopped messaging or emailing. We stayed in contact for five years after she left, and then she disappeared. Never even talked to me."

"Jesus." Dan Heng sighs "Maybe if you actually asked her why, you'd feel better about it."

"I spent years getting over losing her. Seeing her come back has made things exponentially worse."

A sinking feeling in your gut, after the first day you've just not been able to look her in the eyes again. She still is the same girl with the same naivety in her eyes.

“I think you’re both immature.” Dan Heng shrugs, and you drop your mouth open in shock

“Excuse me?”

“She was immature because she got jealous. You’re immature because you refuse to talk to her.”

“I think Y/n has the right to not need to talk to her especially after all this time.”

Stelle’s serious voice actually has your throat going dry, looking to her with a thankful look as March just picks at her food.

“Would you regret it?” Dan Heng asks, a serious look on his face “Not talking to her now?”

The idea of regret has long followed you. Regret isn’t exactly a discernible feeling, it’s not something you can pinpoint easily or just brush aside. It eats you up along with guilt at times, it feeds into your worst thoughts. You wonder if Robin still tosses in her bed late at night with a churning feeling in her stomach, a sinking heart as the past solidifies into the present. You wonder if you’d end up like that too.

“I don’t know.”

The playful mood has long faded now, Dan Heng just pushing food on his plate around as Stelle shoots side glances at you.

“I think it’s not a big deal.” You say finally “I’ll do whatever feels right for me. Don’t worry.”

You shoot what you hope is a reassuring smile at them.

“C’mon, eat up. I’m treating you guys this time.”

Robin stops trying to approach you, not even looking at you anymore and some part of you feels grateful but you also wonder why it feels slightly disappointing. She is off with another group- Acheron, Boothill, Aventurine, the rather intimidating, typically popular group. She stops glancing at you in class, she stops lingering outside your house in the mornings. She stops trying to make small talk and maybe that part you’re more thankful for because every time she tried talking to you, it was just impossible for you to say anything back. Every time you did talk, it was just awkward exchanges where your body was in fight or flight mode.

Every time you think too hard about it, or whatever it was that had happened, you find yourself spiralling. Seeing her brings you back to the place you were, the place you worked so hard to get out of. You can feel your hand trembling as push the bow out, the string digging into your fingers as the sight wavers in and out of the yellow zone.

You really wanted to forget about her, you really wanted her to be nothing but a memory of the past but now you stand face to face practically. Your unanswered history only one conversation away from being told. Everything you convinced yourself of, a new reality you had fabricated for yourself, now falling apart in front of your eyes.

6.

Seeing lilac down the hallways results in a sharp jab to your side. Hearing her speak in class results in your brain rattling for answers.

7.

You want her to stay away from you.

6.

"Y/n. Hey, Y/n!"

Thwip.

You watch as the arrow lands, and March lets out a groan, looking up from the binoculars.

"6! Come on, what's going on with you recently?"

"Shut up." You said through gritted teeth, putting your bow down. "I haven't been able to focus."

Robin being back has affected you in ways you didn't realise would affect you.

"I can tell."

The new voice causes both of you to look up, the expression on your face darkening when you see your mom standing next to your coach.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" You snap, and March steps back- clearly not wanting to be involved in whatever's going on.

"Your coach has been worried about your performance and called me."

"Snitch!"

You shoot a glare at Jingliu, who just crosses her arms tightly.

"Your scores have worsened. At this rate, you won't be able to attend nationals, even." Your mother seethes, and you step back from her, knocking into your bow. The archery team has stopped shooting, all of them turning to look at not just you, but also your mother.

The legendary archer, the face of Luofu archery. The pride of their nation.

"Do you know how much I pay for you and your equipment?"

You look down, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. The world caves in in that moment.

"Do you know everything I've put down so you can succeed as well?"

The school coach urges the rest of the team to go back to doing their training.

The school coach shoots you a look of pity.

"What are you doing if not wasting my resources?"

You don't realise you're crying until let out a sob, a sharp breath of air stabbing your gut sharply and you hear a long sigh drag out.

"God. What have you been doing the past month?"

You hang your head, biting your lip to hold in another sob. You take a shaky breath in, holding your voice steady as you wipe away a stray tear.

"I'm sorry."

The sound that leaves you is hoarse, shaky and nothing like what you normally sound like. It's rough, sandpaper against skin and breaking underneath for blood to leak. Except what leaks is more than just blood, it's all of who you were.

Yukong lets out a deep sigh, hesitating slightly as grips her purse tightly.

"I'll see you later tonight."

You don't see her leave, only hearing her footsteps retreat. You can feel too many eyes on you, despite there being none at all. You can feel the world caving in on you, despite standing on what is still a solid and whole piece of land. What you can't feel is Robin's eyes on you, watching the scene unfold with an unreadable expression, before walking off quickly- fading into the sunset behind you.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Someday when I have a more consistent schedule I really do wanna have a YouTube channel. And I’ve wondered about sponsorships. I’ve gotten offers on this very blog before to participate in one of those stupid ads for drop shipping crystals that project your birth sign or whatever that I’ve turned down.

I’ve wondered though. Because on one hand sponsors pay good money and money is a thing that is required to live in this day and age. But also I feel like if I ever took a sponsor nobody could ever fully and completely trust my opinion on anything again.

There’s this YouTuber I love whose channel is called Swell Entertainment. And she comes across as being very honest but also she takes sponsorships. And a big part of her channel is review content. So sometimes I wonder if she’s pulling her punches slightly because she still wants to be marketable. But I don’t hold that against her because she’s living in LA for god’s sake and sponsorships provide much more reliable income than other methods.

It’s kinda sad that advertisement is almost required to make a living creating internet content.

I pay for YouTube premium not just because I wanted to get rid of ads on my smart tv, but because creators get more money per view from YouTube premium subscribers. I can’t afford to subscribe to a dozen patreons but I can afford one cheap subscription.

I hope if I ever have a channel big enough to have sponsorships I either take them extremely rarely for stuff I actually care about or don’t take them at all. Because I want to be able to just have opinions about stuff openly. But the sad truth is that money can be an issue. So. Who knows? I certainly don’t hold it against people who take sponsorships. That’s just how the industry works nowadays. They need money to live. And if you have adhd which many creative types do contractual deadlines can really help you get stuff done. And sponsors can get you experiences like vacations and luxury hotel stays and free reviewer copies of books and video games. Who can blame them? There’s so much stuff available to you from sponsors that can improve your quality of life and help you make your business better. Money to hire editors and voice actors and writers and animators, buy better equipment, rent out a sound stage.

But. Idk. A lot of those sponsored products aren’t that good. And a lot of people are susceptible to advertising. It works on a lot of people. Especially when it comes from a face they trust.

The tradeoff to take sponsors or not is a difficult one. Honestly and truly. And it’s very probable that I’ll never be popular enough to actually have to make a decision on these things. But I still think about it every time I see a sponsored segment. What levels of calculation have gone into that? None? A lot? I’ll never be allowed to know because that would be bad for business.

[deoidesign]

vampire and werewolf sitting in a tree

time trav e l i n g

first comes. trying to kill eachother then comes... learning you're his dead ex-lover then comes marriage!

(you can buy the book this scene is from for $15 it's really good. it's the fan favorite of the series!)

[radioactivedotcom]

i get what you mean but some of us actual enjoy the game and genuinely don't have the same issues as you with bugs. Yeah there are issues. But it's still a fun game. Pissing on the people who enjoy it and are happy to pay for it isn't going to make the game better. Especially since the last few packs have been really good? Like...

EA has never cared about customer enjoyment. If the majority of people pirate the game, they aren't going to change anything about it, they'll just shelve it.

I don't wanna start a whole debate on this, so I'll answer this one ask and that's it.

First, yes, I fully understand that there are a ton of people who very much enjoy playing the game. But I want you to consider this... If someone has bought all the expansions, all the packs, all the kits... they've spent over 1 200,00$.... The sims is a great game, but it is not a game worth that much money. Or at the very least... it shouldn't be. This should be an unacceptable price tag. If the basegame came out with all the available content that exists for the sims 4, but at that price... who the fuck would buy that.

Being scared that the game will be shelved, that they won't ever make another game ever again... You're just saying, eh, this kinda sucks but I'm absolutely powerless to do anything about this, so I don't care, I'll keep participating in this vicious cycle.

It's not true though. You aren't powerless. Because EA knows they can make money out of the sims franchise for a loooong time still. And they've invested a shit ton into it. They won't give up on it that easily. If people stop buying while saying: I'm not buying because you're charging too much. Or, I'm not buying because this content isn't polished enough, or whatever else people have as valid complaints... Then yes, if enough people did that, I believe it would change EA's business strategy. They would try to make a thing so good people can't resist buying it, instead of just making trailers that seem great, but with a product that ends up not nearly as polished and well-thought-out as advertised. I don't know if you've watched people reviewing the latest expansions, but even on a technical level, no one's been impressed. Yet people still buy, so of course EA won't change their strategy.

Big companies like EA want to make you believe that there's nothing you can do even though YOU'RE THE CUSTOMER, it's YOUR money, and you DESERVE a product worth that hard-earned money. Same way companies never want their employees to unionize, and the government wants you to think it's normal not to have free healthcare. (though i'm canadian so it's, you know, a different problem here concerning healthcare)

Anyway, I'm rambling and my socialism is showing lmao. But tbh, this is a very moot point, because me making this post is never ever in a million years gonna make a DENT in EA's pocket. You are majorly overestimating my influence.

If you wanna keep giving your money to EA, just do it man. I certainly can't stop you.

[sanjisblackasswife]

can you imagine teaching Sanji how to please you and Sanji just watching intently - and lustfully - soaking in all this information, learning how to give you the utmost pleasure. so he can do it again and again.

You’re right cuz he’s such a fast learner let’s talk about it…

Teaching Sanji How to Pleasure You (NSFW)

WC: 1.9k

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Vaginal Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Breast Sucking, Nipple Stimulation, Oral, Kissing, French Kissing, Slight Teacher/Student Roleplay, Praise Kink, Experienced (and very blunt) Reader, Inexperienced Sanji

“O-oh!” He murmured, jumping lightly at your soft hands guiding his under your panties. It was a new feeling he didn’t want to miss out on due to blood loss, but dammit you made it hard.

….

This whole situation only started when you snuck up on Sanji reading one of his porno magazines and snatched it from his hands.

“H-hey! Y/N-San!—“

“Tch—these girls are so artificial looking. Not all girl’s tits are this damn perky, or this damn shaven...” You groan in annoyance seeing such false advertising. You were slightly bent over as Sanji tried to reach to get his booklet back but you just continued flipping the pages irritated he’s looking at such unrealistic filth.

“‘How to please a woman’…” You found a small article on the last page, you placed the magazine on the kitchen counter with Sanji still hover behind you, feeling completely embarrassed on his face, but still side eye’ing what you were reading. You didn’t care that he was reading porn you were moreso annoyed at how badly they described the ways of satisfying a woman.

“You know, Ji. This crap won’t ever get you any pussy.” You casually stated, your fingers rolling on each page corner, you could hear the gulp in Sanji’s throat. You never seems to fail of having this poor blonde man flustered by your words. “I say that because if you want to know the real on how to make your future wife feel good you Gatta know from experience. Real life trial and error.”

“I um…I know how to make a girl feel good! Every gentleman knows—“

“You know where the clit is?” You turned tilting your head. His furrowed brows told you enough to make you smirk.

He was so cute though.

“You’re so cute, Sanji.” You cupped his warm cheeks, thumb gliding over his stubble. His hands immediately flew to your waist breathing heavily through his nose.

You were such a tease.

“You wanna…teach me?” He huffed put a nervous laugh leaning into your touch a bit.

“Okay.” You shrugged. Sanji’s small smile dropped at your quick answer, feeling as if you were playing a cruel joke. “Let’s go.”

“R-Really?!” His voice nearly cracked in shock, You grabbed his hand to walk to your room for the afternoon, everybody ate and was doing their own thing so why not entertain the cook until dinner?

Sanji was following super Close behind you holding his nose in his hand. No way in hell you’re actually going to show him how to please a woman he thought.

“Okay so..” you lock your door, and turn to him. He was even pinker than when you first seen him, “You okay?…we don’t have t—“

“Please! Please show me! I’ll do whatever!”

“Okay! Okay…” You giggle at his eagerness, walking him to your bed and had him sit patiently on the edge of it, you were internally excited to have a student like Sanji to teach. “So in today’s class I’m ganna teach you the basics of how to really please a woman..starting with a…”

You moved in between his legs to peck his lips, they tasted like smoke and juice, but were so soft and moisturized you began to cup his cheeks again.

“Kiss.”

You hummed at his pretty little face now wide and shining as if he were looking at shining silver, pupils dilated and in shapes of hearts.

“Teach me more please.”

His voice was low and shaky, you kiss him once more, pressing your face against his. You can admit he was a good kisser and his lips were an addiction you could get used to and Sanji most definitely felt the same. You could feel his fist tighten on your dress.

“Muah!” You smacked off of his mouth smiling, you fixed his bang a little sees as it was frazzled from how long you both were at it, “Good boy, Okay now lesson two…close your eyes.”

Immediately doing as told with his thumbs fiddling in his lap like a good boy, you smile and take off your dress and bra exposing your breast, letting them bounce free. You knew Sanji would probably spazz out with him being such a boob man, so you wanted to ease him into it.

“I’m ganna take your hand, but keep your eyes closed.”

“Ye-yes ma’aam.”

…his voice sounded so hot saying that???

Biting your lower lip, you guide his veiny soft hand to your breast, like a reflex his hand began to squeeze, he immediately knew what the familiar feel was and his eyes shot opened in excitement.

“S-SO SOF——-“

You kissed him again to shut him up holding the back of his nape and shoving your tongue in his mouth, he was breathing sharply now using both hands to fondle your breast. His touch was firm and rushed so you push back and hold his hands into yours.

“Baby…” You coo’ed, “Just Slow down you have more than enough time to touch them….okay?”

He nodded mindlessly, his lids lowered pressing his teeth down on his lip so hard they could possibly bleed. The weight of your tits in his hands felt so good, he needed more.

“Ah!”

You moan seeing as his new favorite toys were being touched with more, he rubbed your nipples in between his thumb and index finger, he felt his face get red with the urge to—

“Suck one…”

He looked up at you, pupils now small and cheeks tinted pink. He didn’t break eye contact slowly latching on, obeying your command. His mouth was wet from drooling at the sight of your tits. His eyes rolled back tasting your nipple. You had no distinctive taste, but the faint remnant of the soap and perfume you had on. You moved in closer feeling his mouth switch from one breast to the other, he felt even more greedy so he grabbed them both with one hand and shoved them both in his mouth.

“San-!! Ah!” You moaned holding on to his shoulders, his tongue flicking your sensitive nipples back and fourth. His eyes were shut, brows were relaxed because he was as well. He thought he could suck on your titties all day if he had the time, Sanji couldn’t get enough.

You were loss in the pleasure, his tounge felt so good you haven’t had sex in a while so you actually began to feel yourself get embarrassingly wet and nearly cum from this action alone.

You repeat his name, trying to pull away but he’s too strong, his free arm wraps around you caging you in and you just take it.

“S-Sanji okay baby wait— we have to—ah! Move on !”

You could have sworn this man was sucking on your nipples as if MILK was about to come out, but he stops, slowly backing away drunk off your flavor seeing as your chest was covered in spit and now a bit bruised from the harsh pressure of his suckling,

“‘M sorry…”

“It’s okay…we can do that later…you did so good!” You tried to mask the crack in your voice wiping the corners of his mouth. Honestly you didn’t want him to stop, but you had to get to the next step,

“Okay…next lesson…”

You grab his hand and guide it down your panties, Sanji gasped feeling his fingers feel the slimy arousal and it immediately hits his groin.

“Don’t get too excited I didn’t cum…yet..but see…that’s how good you were..”

“Can I…can I make you feel good more..?”

“Of course you can..” you struggle to not moan seeing as your student was now slowly scissoring you, amazed by your wetness that he caused. You glance at his black slacks being tented by his cock just barely visible to you. You bit your lip looking at the size of his print.

“Aren’t you well endowed…” you thought.

You pull his fingers out, seeing the small disappointment in his face, you Pat his head and strip from the remainder of your clothing and lay on your comfy bed with your legs spread at his disposal. His eyes beamed at the sight. Sure he’s seen Nami naked, and plenty of women on magazines, but to have one so up close and personal his mind turned ragged.

“You’re gorgeous.” Sanji exhaled making your heart flutter, he sounded so scincere and in awe. You asked him to strip as well and he said it in an instant before clawing over to you between your legs sitting on his knees like an obedient student. You avoided looking at his crotch as best as you can, not to get distracted.

“Remember when I asked you where the clit is?” You gently spread your lips open, hearing Sanji gasped softly, you move your middle finger to swirl your clit a little making you slightly arch your back, “It’s right here…”

Sanji’s eyes were glued to your pussy, absorbing how your body reacts to you playing with yourself, you watch him and bite your lip, his face was so flustered and his hands were balled into fist on his thighs, you couldn’t help but to let out a pathetic moan seeing his cock slowly rise and grow.

Your finger brushes under the hood of your clit and your leg twitch, Sanji sees it and places one hand on your thigh, thumb slowly inching closer to the heat arising from in between them. He couldn’t help but grab his cock at the view of your cunt being toyed with, wishing you’d allow him to do it for you.

“It’s okay…mmm…play with yourself Sanji…show me…”

His breathing was heavy moving closer to you while pumping his cock trying to match your pace. You speed up the circle and fell back on your pillow, you could feel Sanji’s body and hungry gaze right between your thighs and that alone made you feel so turned on. His cock was already leaking over his fingers wanting to instead cum inside you than on your bed sheets,

“That’s its good….fuck…ah! This is…mmmm…” You couldn’t even finish your sentence your eyes kept rolling back seeing Sanji’s panting face rub himself in front of you,

“Sanji…” you moaned out making him snap his eyes at you, “Touch me…”

He nawed at his lip. Where to first? He was like a kid at a candy store, you seen his face wonder all over your body on what to grab, touch, or squeeze so u helped him out and grabbed his free hand that was on your thigh and put his ring and middle finger inside you. You were so hot and wet Sanji couldn’t help but to wiggle his fingers around your gummy soft walls.

“Good Boy…” you fell back circling your clit as he fucked his fingers into you, “keep going…”

“Y-Y/N…” Sanji’s Voice was cracked moaning in any moans or groans since he started, his patience began to get thin. As much as he enjoyed finger fucking you he really wanted a taste as well. He stopped stroking his cock, dying to know what you tasted like he pulled out and sucked on his fingers.

The new empty feeling made you sit on your elbows and stare at him, he looked back up at you slightly embarrassed he stopped his “lesson”, but he looked so needy and you wouldn’t admit it but you’ve been wanting to see how good he really was with his tongue for a while.

“‘M sorry I—“ You cut him off with a passionate kiss, ruffling his hair in your fingers and pull him on top of you.

“No need to apologize….you’re such a fast learner…how about for the next lesson…you use your tongue?”

[ceilingfan5]

it's gotta be arcade carpet, I will start a fight and I do not care if I win that fight, even though I will win that fight. I want to draw blood, and Taako

"I hate him," Taako says, with feeling. "I hate him so bad. I want him to be naught but purple viscera traumatizing onlookers. You get me? Like, am I being clear enough?" He dips his pretzel passionately into the communal cheese and gets that succulent plastic nacho sauce all over the tray and his hand. He scowls and sucks his fingers loose and Kravitz thinks, not for the first time, him, huh? This is where I've laid my affections?

"For sure," Kravitz says calmly instead. He slides Taako a napkin.

"His strategies are garbage from a toilet, he has no flair, he cheats, I fucking know he does, I don't know how but I Know he does-" Taako huffs and chews his pretzel. Kravitz props his head up on his hand, looking at the jewelry store behind them, and the poster in the jewelry store with the deliriously happy gay couple, and he like, knows, okay, he knows all the diamond things and the capitalism things and the marriage things. And targeted advertising and rainbow bank icons. But listen. What if, is the thing.

"You could find another place to play?" Kravitz suggests, already knowing the answer. But Taako is in a ranting mood, and wants to get the magma out of his system. Kravitz is happy to divert the flow. It's certainly more interesting than going back to work in fourteen minutes.

"Obviously I'm not going to run, Krav," Taako scoffs, mouth still full. Nasty <3. Kravitz has it bad. It might be infectious, how bad he has it. Limbs falling off. In twenty years they'll be like how did the zombie apocalypse start? And no one will answer, because everyone will be gone of zombieism. The end. "I'd rather kill him."

"Noo," Kravitz says, laughing. "Really?"

"Yeah, really!" Taako almost manages a straight face. Usually he's so good at locking it down. Perfect stupid asshole. "I'd kill him good. I'd uh, I'd. Uh. If he beats me at Dance Party Castle again, I'm gonna start a fight."

"A fight? With what, your beefy fists?" Kravitz laughs. He knows Taako could hold his own in a scrap. But also.

"I will start a fight!" Taako declares, maybe a bit too loudly, but the empty food court just echoes dimly about it. "I will start a fight, and I don't care if I win, but I will win. I will win that fight. I wanna draw blood."

"Blood on the dance floor?"

"Boooo!" Taako breaks up into giggles. "Blood on the arcade carpet!"

"Oh no! Think of the blacklights!"

"Think of the Jenkins meat getting fed into the- what's the- Polybius!"

"You said Jenkins meat out loud with your mouth and now you have to go to the Phantom Zone forever." Kravitz shakes his head so sadly. What a loss. Taako cracks up.

"Noooo, I wasn't thinking!"

"That's it, you never think." Kravitz folds his arms, and gets cheese sauce on his suit jacket. "Wait, aw, fuck…"

"Are you sure you don't want to watch me defeat Dance Party Castle one mo gain?" Taako teases. He slides the nakins back over. What a loss!!!

"Only if there's an arcade massacre."

"Beb, I'd commit all kinds of crimes for you."

"Murder?" Kravitz pretends his cheeks aren't heating up, even after all this time. The classic Ken doll of a dude proposing to the slightly more racially ambiguous Ken doll in the glossy jewelry store ad almost winks at him.

"Easy."

"What about tax evasion?"

"Peasy, even."

"We got 'im, boys! Lock him up!"

And as Taako pretends to get dogpiled by a number of invisible undercover tax assassins, he has at least gotten less righteously incandescent about the fucker ruining his favorite thing. So Kravitz wins.

Just not at Dance Party Castle.

[trashexplorer]

BLCD Review: Sei no Gekiyaku

Title: Sei no Gekiyaku (性の劇薬)

Author/Artist: Mizuta Yuki

Shop: CD + Manga

Release Date: 2021/10/27

Cast: Morikawa Toshiyuki x Nojima Hirofumi

Synopsis:

“I’ll find all of your most sensitive spots.”

Makoto Katsuragi, a man working for an advertising agency, has so far led a perfect private and work life. However, that all comes crashing down in an instant when he loses everything he holds dear. In the midst of his despair, he drunkenly climbs onto the ledge of a tall building and is about to jump, when… “If you’re going to throw away your life…let me have it.” He is saved by these words offered by the sudden appearance of Ryuji Yoden, and decides to do exactly as Ryuji says. From the moment Makoto awakens in Ryuji’s room, his daily life of retraining begins, giving away not only his body but his heart…

Review Proper

Uhh.

Hmm.

???????

If y'all know me and or have read my older posts, you'll know I hate this type of plot. However, I had to listen to this 'cause the last I heard of Morikawa Toshiyuki was in 2021, and Nojima Hirofumi in... 2019?! *goes into existential panic*. It doesn't help that these two were Shigure-san and Haru in Nights Before Night. I wanted my happy ending with them to happen even though it was nearly impossible since these two are already inactive in the BL industry. Having the two of them come back and co-star in a BLCD again is just too good to be true... and I was right. I didn't expect them to come in for one of the sketchiest things in the market. I really don't know what Frontier is smoking, having all the budget for veterans like these only to put them in weird projects.

Biases and triggers aside, I think that Sei no Gekiyaku failed to deliver what it was set to convey. It tried so hard to be deep and psychological in the beginning, but it's like sensei just threw that out the window in chapter 3. It reminds me a lot of Lala no Kekkon and Derail. What was all that build-up for, then? I'm gonna say it. If you wanna use Stockholm Syndrome, then commit. This is also true with the discarded BDSM. I don't like these themes, but damn, do I feel bad for them 'cause they all felt pointless in the end.

Anyway, onto the topic of the BLCD itself...

You'll miss a lot of things if you haven't read the manga beforehand. There was a lot of added and dropped content that was understandable since no other characters apart from the two leads were in the BLCD. But that also led to Ryuji's older brother's presence being missing in the BLCD. Although Ryuji mentions him in the BLCD often enough, the manga just shows Ryuji's trauma better since we get to see him constantly haunting Ryuji. I'm not sure if they've changed censorship laws on BLCDs because the same thing happened in Kuroe to Mesu, but the BLCD was less graphic than the manga. Take that part where Ryuji rapes Makoto in the bathtub. You can hear Makoto take a toy in, but you'll never know it was a dildo mount whatchamacallit if you didn't read the manga.

There's also that part when Ryuji loses it when Makoto smiles when they were fucking. Nojinii does chuckle then, but you wouldn't pick that up if you didn't know what happened in the manga. It might've been better if Ryuji loudly thought: "Oh crap, he smiled."

The original plot was already badly paced, but the BLCD was even worse lmao. The tracks don't even start the same way the manga chapters do. I really don't recommend listening to this if you haven't heard the story and are a beginner to Japanese. Speaking of reading, idk what happened to futekiya, but the translation progressively got worse towards the end of the manga. I also read the scanned version of this when it was still unlicensed, but it was also a bit off.

Now for the light in the tunnel: the voice work.

I tried to fight it. I really did.

But I'm always going to be Moririn trash.

Don't get me wrong, Morimori did spectacular here (duh). But I really hated Ryuji that I initially had no thoughts other than respect towards his voice acting here... until he whispered in Track 4, that is. At some point, I just wanted to throw Nojinii out of the picture 'cause THAT SHOULD BE ME???!!! I'LL SLURP THIS SPAGHETTI OFF THE FLOOR ON ALL FOURS FOR YOU, MORIKAWA TOSHIYUKI!

My god. Frontier sure has taste in VAs but not in stories.

He was just-ugh. I wonder how he does that. Like in Tadaima, he makes you feel like he's talking to you rather than his co-star wtf. I was gasping for air goddammit. This man is a danger to society.

As for Nojinii, I actually thought that his voice was too high for Makoto in the beginning. It was almost in the same range as his Haru, and I imagined Makoto's voice to be lower. It did grow on me, though. I missed my bottom Nojinii. Of course, he did excellent as well. His fear was really believable in the first tracks that I just feel so bad for him 'cause he needed to throw that all away. 🙄

Man, I can't help but think that Morimori and Nojinii were wasted on this work. Again, it's already a miracle to have them back, so this might be the last time they ever pair up again. And for fucking Sei no Gekiyaku? Part of the reason why I stopped listening to BLCDs was 'cause I wouldn't know how to cope if I saw more of my favorite older VAs leaving the industry. That's also why I stopped doing releases lists. Hype around BLCDs has steadily been on the decline and if you haven't noticed, there's been considerably fewer releases too. The manga scene isn't doing well either. I'm just so afraid it'll all run out someday. *crisis*

Going back on topic, I do not recommend this BLCD. If you're into psychological and BDSM, I would look into Harada or Kabukichou Bad Trip instead. If you're a fan of Morimori and Nojinii, I still wouldn't recommend it if the theme isn't your thing. Let's just re-listen to Nights Before Night and suffer instead. 👍

[wedontdeservethestars]

What about Johnny Cage x Ada Wong type of reader?

Oohh this is a cool concept!! I kind of took her mercenary work and general stoicism into account here, it turned into an enemies to lovers type deal (which. FAVORITE trope. God.)

Content: gn!reader, mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, enemies to lovers

(Link to AO3 version here!)

How your phone number kept getting leaked, you had no idea. You changed it frequently enough that you rarely had constants in your life when it came to other people. Going into it, you knew that mercenary work didn’t allow for the most sociable life. But that was fine. You were a loner. You thrived on your own, and you liked it that way. It was much easier to watch your back when there weren’t loved ones standing behind you.

But here you were, staring at your fifth burner phone of the year, with a notification from a number that read as unknown but you had memorized by now. You didn’t even need a name to put to the text. It was too obvious: the all-lowercase, horrendous grammar, and overuse of the sunglasses emoji were enough of a calling card.

Johnny Cage.

Asking for a date.

Again.

You and Johnny had the unfortunate circumstance of meeting about a year or two ago when you were both unexpectedly wrapped up in saving Earthrealm. You saw him as a nuisance, someone who couldn’t take anything seriously even when lives were on the line. The more annoying part was that you were proven correct too many times over the course of those several days together. And yet, Johnny hung around you like a lost puppy, constantly trying to impress you with jokes or feats of strength or his fabulous wealth at home. None of it interested you. It only made him try harder. 

Then, the aforementioned texts started to roll in when you two were physically apart. That plus the constant movie trailers and advertisements with his face plastered all over them made you sick to your stomach. As an overplayed TV commercial for an action figure based on his likeness cruelly reminded you at least once a day: “You can’t escape the Cage!”

And yet, though the easy option to block him remained in the back of your mind, you never did. You found it much more cathartic to answer with a sarcastic comment or an insult, even though you knew all it did was throw fuel on the fire.

[heyyy their dollface😘😎😎😎]

[What do you want this time, Cage.] After you sent the message, you sighed and set your phone down on the table. You stretched in your living room, taking in the muffled silence of the city, punctuated by voices through the walls of your apartment and engines on the streets below. Your phone’s buzz added to the mix. You groaned, as if you had expecting anything else but for him to answer right away.

[welllll im in town]

[ur town]

[like right now]

[drinks?😎]

Your brow furrowed. You tried to recall when you told him where you were staying, but it occurred to you that if Johnny could track your cell phones, he was probably paying some dick to give out information on your whereabouts, too. 

[How stalkerish of you. Charming.]

[nahhh nah not stalkerish!!]

[just wanna see u again. too much to ask?]

[Pretty much, yeah.]

[cmon. pls? ill pay!]

You gave a strenuous sigh and looked around at the rest of your apartment. It was silent, mostly bare. You had never bothered to decorate. For once, and only for a moment, the usually comforting depersonalization of it all felt lonely. You weighed your options. At least if you went out, it would be something different. You hadn’t gotten a hit in weeks and the static nature of sitting at home and going out only for groceries was taking its toll. Already regretting it before you pressed a single key on the screen, you answered. 

[Fine. Where?]

[noonans bar?]

[How do you even know about that place?]

[not my first time around the block, sweetie. filmed once or twice here before n found out pretty quick where the best drinks were]

[For once, you’re not wrong. I’ll be there at 8. If you’re even 10 minutes late I’m leaving.]

[u drive a hard bargain. luv it😘 ill see u soon!]

[You’re so annoying.]

[😎]

The local bar was, as usual, loud and full of too many people. It made you nervous to be around so many at once. The only saving graces were the fact that you were able to snag a booth in the corner, where no one could sneak up on you, and the drinks. Johnny was, unfortunately, right for once. They really were the best in the city.

You were already sipping on a Rum and Coke, something light that gave you enough buzz so that you weren’t completely miserable but kept you sober enough to stay alert. Not that you were expecting a fight or anything, but it was a habit you’d gotten too used to. Years in your profession had made you strong and confident in your abilities, but had also made you quite antisocial. It was already hard to trust strangers when you were younger and inexperienced. Now, it was nearly impossible. 

And then, of course, was Johnny. You watched as he entered the bar, already grinning like an idiot and giving quick greetings to anyone he passed. He even scrawled a few autographs on some napkins to excited patrons as he made his way over to you. That was something else that you hated about Johnny. Just the act of being seen with him immediately called attention to yourself. Usually, that was something you couldn’t afford. But you had already agreed to this whole thing, and now he was sitting across from you in the booth, no doubt drawing stares and chatter from some of the people around you. 

Johnny ignored them all in favor of you, though. He took off his sunglasses (because of course he still wore them at night) and flashed you a grin. 

“Wow. Hi. You look great.”

“Johnny,” you mumbled in acknowledgement. You lifted your glass and took a long sip before continuing. “Started a tab already.”

“Right on,” he nodded, unbothered by your flippancy. His eyes flicked down to your glass. “Can I have a taste?”

“Do you even know what it is?” you asked, but you decided you could part with a sip and held it towards him. 

“Nope.” Johnny grinned and tried some of it. When he pulled away, he seemed surprised. “What, are you a lightweight?”

You scoffed. “Hardly. I just don’t wanna get wasted and have to rely on you to drag me home.”

“Suuure.” You reached for the glass, but Johnny managed in one last sip before handing it over again. “Heh. It’s like we just kissed.”

“How old are you?” you grumbled. “Twelve?”

“Only in dog years.”

Before you could point out the inaccuracies of that analogy, Johnny was already talking again. 

“Noticed you got all dressed up for me.”

You looked down at your jacket, hoodie, and jeans. Your sense of style wasn’t anything to gawk at. That was the point. When you met Johnny’s eyes again, you saw that his face was riddled with sarcasm.

“You should feel lucky I even agreed to all this.” You folded your arms. “I should just get up and go home now, in fact.”

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, doll,” he chuckled. “No hard feelings. I promise. I’m just givin’ you a hard time is all.”

“I’ll show you a hard time,” you muttered as he stood to order a drink.

“I heard that!” he laughed over his shoulder. You glared at him as he leaned against the counter, joking with the bartender about something or other. His laugh annoyed you. His hair annoyed you. His brash sense of style annoyed you. His ass annoyed you, too. Stop staring at his ass. You almost decided to get up and leave while he was distracted, but even if it was Johnny, you couldn’t bring yourself to be that mean. After all, you had agreed to this. Might as well see it through. 

“So?” Johnny asked when he came back with a tall mug of a draft beer. He’d gotten you one, too. You weren’t much for beer, but hey: he was paying. “What’ve you been up to? Been a while since I’ve seen ya.”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Johnny laughed. It wasn’t a joke. 

“Alright, alright. We can just talk about me if you want. Trust me–no issues with that.” He gave you a wink that made you sick to your stomach. Then, he started on a tangent about all the movie work he’d done over the past couple of years. You’d heard of most of the projects from ads, but you let him talk anyways, half-hoping he’d run out of steam eventually. You drank your beer, not relishing in the taste but certainly relishing in the way it made you a little less agitated. Soon, Johnny’s words weren’t even entirely annoying. Sometimes they were even interesting. Not enough to ask any questions about the ins and outs of a Hollywood stunt star, but you were no longer pouting into your glass. 

Johnny kept talking. You kept drinking. And then, the inevitable happened. You were drunk. You could tell because the small part of you that was still aware of the world in a more sober-fashion knew he was still talking, but you couldn’t for the life of you actually focus on what he was saying. You’d pick up a sentence or two and then immediately forget about it. You were too distracted by the little details: the way he wet his pink lips after a sip of beer, the warm color of his eyes, his strangely pretty and probably–no, definitely manicured nails. Johnny was a looker. You weren’t one to deny it, but you weren’t happy about it either. In fact, the more you thought about it, the more you looped back around to being irritated with him. How come he had to make you feel this way? You, out of all people, who couldn’t afford to have close relationships? Who couldn’t even stand him in the first place, and yet hesitated to cut contact with him every time you got a text? Who thought about him late at night, alone in bed, and way more often than you wanted to admit?

It was all his fault, you decided. Of course it was. Johnny was messing you all up. You never felt like this, like a lovesick puppy. You frowned, your hazy focus settling on his mouth. You saw Johnny frown, too. It sounded like he was saying your name, and you were sure he was, but you didn’t really care. He snapped his fingers near your ear and it almost brought you back. You leaned in, raising one of your hands. You were gonna give it to him, you decided, show him what for in return for making you feel so stupid and weak and so utterly enamored. But your hand landed a lot more softly on his cheek than you initially meant it to, and instead of telling him off your lips were suddenly busy making love to his. 

For once, Johnny didn’t seem to know how to respond. His usual suave self was broken. All he was able to do was sit there, frozen, eyes wide, as you finally did what you thought about doing many times before. 

Once you were satisfied, you pulled away with a slow breath. Johnny was blushing. Actually blushing, and not the fake “aw, shucks” kind of blush you’d seen him pull before. This was real. You’d caught him off-guard. You’d destroyed him.

A small smirk found its way onto your lips and you distracted them by finishing off your drink. When you were done, you wiped your mouth on your sleeve and muttered, “You’re stupid.”

“What?” Johnny seemed to genuinely not have heard you, still completely lost in his own world. 

“Never mind,” you sighed. “That was…ugh. Whatever. Sorry.”

“Sorry?” He looked even more surprised. “What, like you didn’t mean to kiss me?”

“No. But like–” You struggled for a moment. Now you were getting flustered. “I didn’t want to. I just–I don’t know. I don’t know. It just happened, okay?”

“It absolutely did just happen.” Johnny seemed to be falling back into his nature, now that you were, too. “D’you want it to just happen again?”

“No,” you muttered quickly. But you leaned in again, still staring at him. His hand landed on your neck. It was surprisingly warm. “Maybe.”

“That’s what I thought,” he grinned, and suddenly he was kissing you again. It felt good, but what was even worse was that it felt right. Fulfilling, almost. Like this is what had been missing in your life. 

You wanted to beat yourself up just for even thinking that. 

After the few sloppy kisses were over, you started packing your things. You knew that if you stayed around him any longer, you were gonna say something you regretted.

“Hey, hey, where’s the fire?” Johnny murmured, still very much in the slow romantic mood that you were desperately trying to pull yourself out of. 

“I need to go,” you huffed, standing from the table. The room spun. Johnny took note of the way you wobbled and stood up beside you. 

“Hey.” He steadied your shoulders and scanned your face. You furrowed your brow, trying to look intimidating. Based on his expression, it wasn’t working. “You’re drunk.”

“Nice work, genius.” 

Johnny’s face slowly fell as he looked at you. A short sigh huffed from his nose. “...We wouldn’t work. Would we?”

You shrugged, both because you knew the answer and you wanted to pretend you didn’t. Johnny nodded. You had never seen him so serious before, nor so sad. It made you wanna throw up. Or maybe it was just the booze and dizziness.

“Let me at least get you home safe.” He started walking you towards the door. It was a slow process, and with his big arms wrapped around your shoulders, you were glad about that. Outside the bar, it was starting to rain, the tiny drops coming down in waves of mist. Johnny cursed under his breath and pulled your hood up for you. As he did so, you caught a glimpse of his face again, kind and doe-eyed and so goddamn sad. Your own lips tugged down in a frown. You looked away as you spoke again.

“We could try.”

“Huh?”

“We could try,” you repeated louder, trying not to stumble. You had the safety net of drink to blame all of this on if you felt differently in the morning. But somehow, you knew you wouldn’t. You could feel Johnny staring at you before the two of you started to walk down the street again. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

[yall-hate-kids-tourney]

Round 3: Chara Dreemurr (Undertale) vs. Jason Todd (DC)

Propaganda below the cut

Chara Dreemurr (?):

They were constantly blamed for killing all of monster kind in the no mercy route, despite players choosing to go that route. People ignored that they sacrificed themselves to attempt to free the monsters from the underground.

----

everyone wants to blame their own actions (genocide route) on chara, who is a literal child. i don’t know how to tell you this but you are the one playing the game. it’s about YOUR CHOICES. chara is there is punish you for that, you killed the only family that ever loved them! how could they not be upset at that! also if you don’t mind, here’s a good video essay on the subject 

Jason Todd (~12):

Most of the Tumblr fandom likes this guy but if you step outside this website then wham so many people say he got what he deserved as a kid and Batman can't be cool if he's a dad so it's important for Batman to trash-talk his dead child constantly so we can all agree what a bad idea it was. Also wanna highlight that a lot of the records we have from fans at the time were clear they disliked Robin for BEING a child. Like a lot of the little dude characters in this tournament are treated too harshly for making an ugly choice and the fans aren't being understanding or sympathetic that the choice is made by a child character who is immature and not developed and strong enough to make a good choice and stuff. But THIS little dude was specifically hated FOR being a child. People wanted tough loner guy Batman not Batdad and his little buddy. The first Robin would drive back from college and guest star sometimes and be advertised as the Teen Wonder and people were like yeah okay but then Batman actually starts being a single parent for a child with needs and people were like UGH not the BOY Wonder. Today pretty much everywhere you see Batman fans saying Batman is better solo, no kid, it's not realistic to have a kid, a kid shouldn't be in the movies blah. Even if the comics they always find a way to send away the new kid so that Batman never has to parent. So all the Robins are being excluded from the narrative but I think this one is THE symbol of Batman fans hating a child character just for being a child.

-

Robin, Jason Todd, THE hated child character. In the 1980s, Batman comics had become increasingly dark and gritty. According to editor O'Neil himself, the courted audience wasn't kids but 19-40 year old men with disposable income. Batman's child sidekick, Robin, was offensively campy and childish. Fans called him wimpy, annoying, dumb, bratty, etc. Also people complained that Batman acting like an affectionate dad was unmanly and gay. Robin acts violent and emotional and people are like "ew he's so childish and emotional"—and then Batman literally acts just as murderously and emotionally within literally the same exact story and people are like "wow he's so dark and tortured". So in 1988 (after brutalizing Batgirl to get rid of her for being too bright and nice and kid-friendly), DC held a paid poll for fans to vote for Robin to live or die. O'Neil claims he heard a fan (a grown man with a dayjob as a lawyer) programmed a phone to spam kill votes. One fanguy claimed that he sold his Mercedes to buy kill votes (probably an exaggeration but still). By less than 1% margin, the vote decided to kill Robin in a spectacularly violent way. Anyway the 1989 Batman movie brought in a huge wave of new child comicbook fans who liked the new Robin (a very cool teenage high school Robin with a driver's license and a girlfriend), and DC started a separate Robin-less Batman series called Legends of the Dark Knight to make the anti-Robin writers and fans happy. But to this day, many fans agree it was a good idea to kill off the other Robin so that his foolish death reminds other characters to never be childish and stupid again. Bonus: the current Robin (usually a traumatized 10-year-old) has also been facing some pretty loud hatred for over 15 years.

[richeeduvie]

The Austerlitz episode in Logan wins AU. Baby jr wants to join the family therapy thinking its just fun family time. They all get up to go to the little chapel, so baby jr. gets up as well and starts walking with them, so happy, almost skipping. "No no baby, we stay here" "But I want to go with them mommy, I want therapy too". So Baby and Baby jr. sit with Tom and Willa. Not sure how that conversation would go, but would love to know. Afterwards when Logan and Roman take pictures Baby jr also wants to be in a picture. So they let her, because who can say no to her, and she's like "Mommy! You too!". So now it's a picture with Logan, Baby, Baby jr. and Roman. And Roman just feels weird. (No this is NOT affair AU)

If this was the affair!AU, it'd be a serve on Roman's end. Just up in the photo with his secret daughter, old dad none the wiser. Cunt-like.

"You can't join us, weirdo."

Baby Jr's smile at Roman drops. She pouts and mms. Roman pokes her shoulder.

"It's torture. It's not for babies - it's for losers. I'm just there to support our sister and brother."

"I wanna do therapy, please please."

"...You'll probably have to at a certain point." Roman pecks her cheek, bending down to her. "Mwah!"

Connor kisses Baby Jr's head on the way in. She puts her hands up.

"I hop-I hope therapy is not fun like what I'm thinking."

Baby smiles.

"I promise you, sweetheart, it's not."

Baby Jr nods and slumps into her mommy when she picks her up. She's still sad, she can have times that are not fun. As long as it's with her family.

Tom teaches Baby Jr that slapping game with your hands. You know, the one where you lay your palms out and someone sits theirs on top of yours, then you have to be fast enough to slap their palms before they pull away.

She always gives herself away, giggling hard when she's about to slap Tom's hands. He'll let her most of the game, where Baby Jr will laugh even harder.

Willa smiles something subdued, but bright.

"You've got a lot of power. You bore a little, pretty monster-ow!"

"Sorry, Tom."

She still giggles.

"She's a cutie, you're lucky."

"Thank you, Willa."

"Both of them. Shiv tries to peel my pupils if I ask for baby photos, so I'm assuming all of them were ugly coneheads...don't tell her I said that."

Willa tilts her head looking at Baby Jr. No kids, but at least the genetic proof is pretty cute - and odd for a toddler. If Logan can produce that...no, that's weird.

"Shiv was a cute baby."

"Oh, well - I never doubted it."

"Willa, play? Please."

"Okay, don't go too hard."

Tom's confused as to why Baby Jr is very gentle when slapping Willa's hands.

Then it's time for photos and Baby Jr is tilting her head, she walks behind the photographer - she doesn't want to ruin the picture.

"What are you doing?"

She missed out on therapy, she's not gonna miss out on picture taking.

"Can I be in the picture?"

"No, don't bother the boys-"

"Alright." Logan waves a hand over. "Romulus, they've already got enough of just your mug."

Roman blinks down as Baby Jr comes running up. He hauls her up.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You're good for advertising."

She smiles shyly. Roman makes a face that's almost catty as much as it is slightly disgusted, but he smiles at Baby Jr when he catches her smiling at him.

"Mommy, come. You too."

"Oh, I don't know-"

"Might as well."

Roman's smile drops as Logan waves a hand over again. Baby comes into the middle, smiling at Logan and Roman swallows.

He presses his nose into Baby Jr's palm. She giggles.

He's a bad picture model when he catches Logan's hand on Baby's back. A flash comes along, bright.

What a picture of the happy family.

[phoenixisobsessed]

Okay guys, I know there’s still a while until I’m done with the catformers, but I’m starting to wonder wtf imma do after. I still wanna be an ask blog, so I’ll leave it up to you guys what I should do!!

I might put it up again closer to the ending of catformers, if I don’t feel like enough people saw it / feel like they may have changed their minds.

MORE DETAILS ON EACH ONE:

People will send in character requests as usual, but will send in a catpicture themselves together with their ask. In this version, characters going double doesn’t matter anymore (I think) xD

Just any funny or silly picture. Can be cats, can be dogs, can be humans. Anything you’d find on r/blursedimages basically. Can even be popular drawing memes! Open for anything.

Before catformers I really just wanted to re-design a bunch of characters, and have people ask for specific characters to be redesigned. Like man idk which ones I wanna do. But I do have the Elite Trine right here. Also did some panel redraws that may also be included in this category. (Said I’d never draw IDW again LMFAOO let me just clown on myself rq)

Vines, ideas for comic skits, interactions between characters, funny trends again. I think this would be funny.

I really enjoy my OCs, so this would include drawing them and answering questions about them. Also in this is talking about the AUs and headcanons for all of the characters, including ships and such. So it’s not all OC stuff okay also others. I draw also your ships and headcanons!! (Rarepairs, hell yes! Proshippers, get the hell off of my page 🥰🙏) Will I draw your ocs? Mayhaps I will. Your ocs interacting with other characters? Your ocs interacting with MY ocs??? I’m going too far in my yapping I need to stop now sorry guys.

Just all of it. Plus, I’ll answer any whacky or silly questions you have to me about transformers (I think it again goes into point 5.) but basically people can ask for anything they mf want!! And I’ll get to it.

We want the consistent theme of cat transformers going. So I keep it as a series on my blog, maybe every second day or so, who knows, but we also want some diversity. Want to be able to spread wider and ask for other things.

Anyway, I just want to know what we are interested in keeping here, I’m open to anything really. I’ll probably either way accept asks of anything, but only openly “advertise” the blog as the thing that wins (if all of the above doesn’t win xD)

And thank you to everybody who has stuck around! I love seeing interactions from so many blogs I recognise as consistent followers of the 100 cat transformers series. Even if you think I don’t recognise your blog name every time, there is a high chance that I do! I’m not going to name you all now, but I see you (totally not creepy LMFAO). I read every single reblog I get and I love each one of them. I want you all to know that I appreciate you staying with me along the journey, being basically just as, if not more, passionate about it than me and I hope to still see you sticking around. Again, thank you all so much. <3 Couldn’t do this without you amazing people.

Sorry, I know this is a long post, but I had to just happy rant for a moment. I LOVE YOU GUYS /SRS