#mob programming

[bizarre-blues]

Really wanted to do this trend with Mob and Ritsu

[vidapon]

reigen doodle i ended up liking a lot so i coloured it :-)

[chaotpayaso]

Two more drawings of my ghost shigeo that looks more like ??? ngl, idk if im gonna give him a story im not good at it

ver 2 with the colour lines why not

[bonicedemandarina]

been tux painting that mob psycho

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part fifteen: creature of habit

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smoking, mentions of smoking as an unhealthy coping mechanism, talks of quitting(?)

fourteen | fifteen | sixteen

The moment she slid into the passenger seat of the now familiar car on Wednesday afternoon, she wrinkled her nose. It wasn’t too obvious—not like she meant to do it—but Lando caught it immediately. Her face didn’t quite scrunch, but her lips pressed together, and she shifted slightly like she was trying to put some distance between herself and the lingering scent in the car.

It had been a bad night. A bad fucking night. Lando had barely slept, the nicotine still sitting thick in his lungs after going through nearly half a pack while trying to cool off. He thought he’d aired the car out enough, but apparently not.

“You smoke?” she asked, her voice light but laced with something he couldn’t quite name.

Lando barely flicked a glance her way before putting the car in drive. “Not really.”

She gave him a look. The kind that made it clear she didn’t buy his bullshit but wasn’t going to press him on it either. “Oh,” she murmured.“It smells like smoke in here.”

Lando barely paused as he shifted gears, glancing at her with a blank expression. “Does it?”

She sniffed again, like she was double-checking, then nodded. The thick scent of tobacco hit the back of her throat with every inhale, forcing her to breathe it in through her nose instead. “Yeah.” 

He played it cool, turning his attention back to the road. “Must’ve been the guy who had it before me.”

She frowned slightly. “You let people borrow your cars?”

Ah, fuck.

“Not usually,” he said smoothly. Lando played dumb, shifting the car into drive. “Why?”

She shot him a look before waving a hand slightly in front of her face. “Because it reeks in here.”

He exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly like he was considering it. “Huh. Must’ve been the guy parked next to me then.”

Not that I own my own private three-story garage or anything.

She didn’t look convinced.

He kept his expression neutral, his grip on the steering wheel relaxed. She wasn’t stupid—he knew that. But he also wasn’t about to sit here and talk about why he had needed a cigarette so badly after what had gone down the night before.

She turned to the window, clearly put off by the lingering scent, and he caught the way she subtly pulled at the collar of her sweater, like she wanted to block out the smell completely. She fidgeted with the collar of her shirt before deciding it’d be rude to show her distaste so blatantly, instead opting to fidget with her fingers in her lap. Her fingers curled against her thigh, her shoulders tensed just the tiniest bit.

Interesting.

The next day, he brought a different car.

He didn’t acknowledge it. She didn’t bring it up. But when she got in, there was no wrinkling of her nose, no slight shift of discomfort. Instead, when she noticed the scented dangling tree ornament hanging from the rearview mirror, there was a twinkle in her eye.

This car was swirling with the artificial scent of french vanilla – much warmer and sweeter than the overwhelming haze they’d had to inhale the day prior. Instinctively, she smiled.

Huh, it smells nice in here.

Warm scents always had been her favorite, with her always stopping to smell candles that smell like vanilla or snickerdoodle or s’mores whenever she found herself at the mall. And now, her lips curled in a subconscious display of approval as she sat beside him, before she began to delve into all the details of her day.

It was stupid how much that pleased him.

A week later, his boys started noticing.

“Alright,” Max Fewtrell said, arms crossed, watching Lando fidget with something in his hands. “Enough of this shit. You’re fidgety as fuck, mate. What the fuck is going on with you?” He eyed Lando, watching the way his fingers twitched slightly on the table. “You good?”

“What d’you mean?” Lando muttered, scowling as he flicked an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He exhaled sharply, tapping his fingers against the table. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Twitching. Tapping. Clenching his jaw. Running his hand through his hair. All the fucking things he used to do before he ever picked up a cigarette.

Max Verstappen raised an eyebrow. “You’re miserable.”

“I am not miserable!” Lando snapped, then hesitated, rubbing a hand down his face.

Deep breaths. Get your shit together Norris. For fuck’s sake.

“Okay, maybe a little. But nothin’ more than usual, you muppets.”

Carlos Sainz paused in the middle of their game of pool, watching his boss like the kid was a puzzle missing half its pieces. “Didn’t you just buy a fresh pack the other day?”

Ah, so there’s a brain in there after all.

“Yeah,” Fewtrell agreed, his analytical gaze scanning Lando from head to toe and back again. “And then I saw you throw it in the bin an hour later.”

Can’t you ever mind your own fuckin’ business?

Lando snarled in nor particular direction, twirling the unlit cigerette between his fingers while he stared at it as if it had personally offended him. If he stared at it any harder, the poor thing would likely disintegrate.

Daniel Ricciardo, ever the opportunist, grinned wide and knowing. Mirth danced in those warm brown eyes. “I mean, hey, if you’re quitting, you could just say so.”

Lando let out a sharp breath, leaning against the counter. As soon as he pocketed the stupid cigarette, his fingers twitched like they wanted something to hold. A moment later, he had his lighter out instead, flicking it on and off in repetitive motions. “It’s not quitting.”

Fewtrell narrowed his eyes. “It looks like quitting.”

Daniel snorted. “Bullshit. You’ve been chewing gum like it’s your last meal and looking pissed off for the last three days.”

Fewtrell narrowed his eyes. “You are quitting.” He grinned. “What, you on a sudden health kick? Givin’ up joints for spring rolls?”

Lando sighed through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t even like smoking—never had, not really. It was just something that came with the job, something that filled the space between the cracks.

But now? Now it was annoying him. He found himself thinking about it in a way he never had before.

Max Verstappen lifted a brow, actually looking up from his phone. “Since when do you give a shit about that?”

Lando scowled. “It’s just—” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well– Erm, it’s– It’s just not right, y’know?”

Silence.

Carlos exchanged a glance with Fewtrell. Verstappen’s eyes narrowed slightly. Daniel just looked amused, using every once of self control not to burst out laughing in front of everyone. Oh, this was hilarious.

The guys exchanged glances.

Not right? Since when did Lando give a shit about right and wrong?

Carlos raised a brow. “Since when do you care?”

Lando didn’t answer. Instead, he flicked the lighter shut, shoving it into his pocket.

Fewtrell tilted his head. “Not right… how?”

And since when? He wanted to ask. You’ve been smokin’ a pack a week since you were old enough to reach the checkout counter at the corner store, so what’s this bullshit?

Lando pushed off the counter, grabbing his car keys. “Don’t worry about it.”

Daniel grinned. “Ohhh, I see.”

Lando barely looked up from where he was flipping a lighter between his fingers. “Dunno what you’re talking about. Y’don’t see shit,” Lando muttered, flipping him off as he walked out the door.

Daniel’s grin widened. “Whatever you say, boss.”

a/n: if this feels too filler again, i'm sorry. i'm just trying to build their dynamic a bit, but hopefully the upcoming chapters will be more interesting for you guys. thank you for reading!

[octal-codes]

The modder argument is a fallacy.

We've all heard the argument, "a modder did it in a day, why does Mojang take a year?"

Hi, in case you don't know me, I'm a Minecraft modder. I'm the lead developer for the Sweet Berry Collective, a small modding team focused on quality mods.

I've been working on a mod, Wandering Wizardry, for about a year now, and I only have the amount of new content equivalent to 1/3 of an update.

Quality content takes time.

Anyone who does anything creative will agree with me. You need to make the code, the art, the models, all of which takes time.

One of the biggest bottlenecks in anything creative is the flow of ideas. If you have a lot of conflicting ideas you throw together super quickly, they'll all clash with each other, and nothing will feel coherent.

If you instead try to come up with ideas that fit with other parts of the content, you'll quickly run out and get stuck on what to add.

Modders don't need to follow Mojang's standards.

Mojang has a lot of standards on the type of content that's allowed to be in the game. Modders don't need to follow these.

A modder can implement a small feature in 5 minutes disregarding the rest of the game and how it fits in with that.

Mojang has to make sure it works on both Java and Bedrock, make sure it fits with other similar features, make sure it doesn't break progression, and listen to the whole community on that feature.

Mojang can't just buy out mods.

Almost every mod depends on external code that Mojang doesn't have the right to use. Forge, Fabric API, and Quilt Standard Libraries, all are unusable in base Minecraft, as well as the dozens of community maintained libraries for mods.

If Mojang were to buy a mod to implement it in the game, they'd need to partially or fully reimplement it to be compatible with the rest of the codebase.

Mojang does have tendencies of *hiring* modders, but that's different than outright buying mods.

Conclusion

Stop weaponizing us against Mojang. I can speak for almost the whole modding community when I say we don't like it.

Please reblog so more people can see this, and to put an end to the modder argument.

[bluebeerg]

oh this can't end well

original here

[lastoneonthedancefloor]

[doctorsiren]

sketchbook pages

[crying-art]

Day 1– Redraw

[spaceistheplaceart]

something else i never uploaded... enjoy the kiss <3

[cronchyboii12]

ANOTHER ART ASSIGNEMTN

[taya-ki]

More random mobpsycho doodles

[bigsharkguy]

girlmob . gob. trans girl mob. etc.

[kaesaaurelia]

I'm picturing a turn-based RPG based on 3rd Life where, if you're friendly with the other players, you can either buy items from them or they can offer you trades and you can accept or reject them...

BUT if you decide to buy/trade with Scar, you find yourself in the combat GUI with no warning, the health stat is based on something other than hearts (charisma?), and unless you've already died twice, your only options are to use your other items like weapons to make counteroffers (wears Scar down, but only proportionate to how valuable they are), accept the deal (there is a 50% chance he will add something else to the deal once you accept) or try to run away. If you lose, you walk away dazedly wondering why you made that trade.

If you're red and try to fight him, good news! You don't have to worry about making the deal with Scar, you just have to fight him and Grian!

[jascurka]

made this quick edit for fun over a week ago

the original from mc donalds japan ad