#AND ALSO I’M TRYING MY BEST

[twistedreblog]

((I literally never post anything, only reblog, but I saw this and thought it’d be fun, soooo thank you @treysimp 👌😍 enjoy the very low quality pictures that I edited on my phone // stuff in tags ))

[doctorsiren]

I saw an interesting post a while back that said “Capcom made us [Miles and Diego/Godot] only have like two(?) interactions because they knew we would be unstoppable with a brother dynamic” and tbh it stuck with me bc it was intriguing.

So yeah that potential brotherhood, but that Godot/Diego AU I made (that I still need a name for)

Also I bet Gregory Edgeworth would have smelled like a bit like coffee, and so Diego just reminds Miles of that comforting presence 😭 (the von Karma estate was a tea household, so he didn’t smell much coffee after DL-6 and didn’t realize how much he missed it/reminded him of his father)

[galiccfinds]

1 base, 4 sims 🌷🫧💭

[sirmanmister]

The MacCready family deserves the literal whole entire world and nobody can convince me otherwise.

[sun-e-chips]

Friendly reminder that your art makes someone happy, even if it’s just for yourself.

It is ok to make “messy” art, what matters is you got to have fun creating something and that in itself is wonderful!

[romanticize-until-you-drop]

2024-05-06

The end of the semester is strange indeed.

It is to look up from endless papers, scrambled word documents, and ink-stained hands to notice, only then to see —

You’ve gotten so far and there’s so little, yet so much, just ahead.

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

I saw a post a while ago somewhere abt how in botw Ravio could be a traveling merchant kinda like Beedle so anyways here’s this

also I am working on those requests I promise but this came to me in a vision last night so I just had to draw it lol

[sugarcoated-lame]

JOEL FUCKIN’ YOU WHILST YOU’RE ASLEEP?! kricket… kricket………

smut below the cut*

warnings: pre-established cnc, somnophilia, unprotected piv, 18+ minors dni

hehehehe SEB !! my love 🧡

YES Joel fucking you while you’re asleep! I am a firm believer that as long as you’ve talked about it and he knows you’re okay with it, Joel, especially pre-outbreak, would LOVE to get his mouth on you while you’re sleeping and wake you up with his tongue (I mean I literally wrote a whole fic about that lmao), but also his cock 🫠

He just loves having you at his mercy, loves how sweet and peaceful you look, a beautiful angel in his bed with your hair all spread across the pillow like a halo around your face, and he can’t help but want to touch you, want to feel you. can’t help it because you just feel oh so good wrapped around him, but also because he likes for you to wake up to him making you feel that good too.

I could definitely see it happening on one of those nights where Joel gets home really late from a contracting job, tired and wound up from a long, stressful day and wanting nothing more than to relish in you and your warmth.

You’d tried to wait up for him, but when Joel walks into the bedroom, he finds you sound asleep on top of the sheets, your body closer to his side of the bed than yours.

Laying on your side, clad in nothing but one of his big t-shirts, your chest slowly rising and falling in even breaths beneath the soft fabric, the book you’d been reading to try to help you stay awake lies abandoned at your side.

The sight of you in his clothes, sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed, all snuggled up to his pillow, stirs something in Joel, his cock twitching beneath his jeans and he knows he has to have you, to feel your softness and warmth to make him forget all about the day he’s had.

smut below the cut** ❤️

Joel undresses quietly and shuts off the light on your bedside table before carefully climbing into bed behind your sleeping silhouette. His fingers find the hem of your—his—shirt and gently lift it up to reveal that you’ve forgone underwear and he lets out a quiet groan.

His rough, calloused palm gingerly slides over the curve of your ass, appreciating your curves before making its way to your front, sliding between your thighs to get you ready for him.

You stir for only a moment when his fingers brush your clit, a sleepy whimper falling from your lips at the sensation, before sleep overtakes you once again and you’re melting back into the sheets.

Joel’s fingers find your hole where you’re already starting to get wet from his light touch, sinking one of the digits in slowly. Pushing in and out of your warmth before adding another.

You’re still asleep when another quiet sound escapes you as Joel stretches you with his fingers, your back arching of its own volition causing your ass to press against his hardened length and he can’t help but let out a quiet “fuck” at the friction.

Once he feels you’re ready for him, Joel gently lifts your leg over his hip, pressing closer behind you as he lines up his leaking cock with your entrance.

Joel pushes in slowly, one inch at a time, and the way your warm, velvety walls just welcome him in so easily has all the stress of the day melting away in an instant.

His thrusts are slow and deep, his large hand on your hip guiding your pliant form back against him, his cock reaching places inside you that only he has ever been able to reach.

It’s only when his tip prods against that spongy spot inside you that would normally make you see stars if you were awake, that Joel feels your walls begin to clench tighter around him, your back pressing more firmly against his chest as you begin to stir with a quiet mewl.

“Mm- Joel?” Your voice comes out in a sleepy whisper.

Your hand clumsily reaches back to find his curls, a contented sigh leaving you as your fingers tangle in the soft strands, your mind beginning wake up and catch up with your body as he continues to fuck into slowly.

“‘M sorry for waking you, darling.” Joel presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck. “Just looked so fuckin’ pretty— Needed ya.”

oops got a little carried away with this one 🤭 but godddd I need a cold shower and like 3-5 business days to recover from this, I need this and him so bad 😭 !!! hehehe thank you for sending this my love, I hope you enjoy! ilyssssm 🥰❤️🧡

[catastrxblues]

EVERMORE by taylor swift (feat. bon iver) — “and i was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step. and i couldn’t be sure, i had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be forevermore.”

my #swiftiegiftexchange2024 for @lovesickallovermybed!!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

[glowsticcc]

i’ve been wanting to put sunny in different hairstyles since i first designed them and today i satiated that need

i like to headcanon that q!tubbo learned how to do her hair but whenever she winces bc he pulled a little too hard a part of his soul dies :D

[lizablackthorn]

Baby Charles and Arthur 🥹👼🏻

[stuckinapril]

so unimpressed w men rn. it’s just so whatever

[dvrcos]

Have you written anything about Neil being mic’d up? Bc I would love to read that

Tbh I feel like Neil would be the least entertaining when mic’d up. Not because he’s not funny but because he gets so hyper focused on the game he isn’t talking outside of shouting in French at Kevin. I think Kevin is the same way tbh.

What they would do instead is have Neil watch and commentate his highlight reels and explain his thought process.

*neil getting body checked by a 6ft3 back liner and just ducking and rolling to grab the ball again*

“Oh yeah that hurt. Mans a skyscraper but ya know it was just instinct. You just gotta like tuck your head in and pray” *demonstrates how to do a somersault in the least graceful way*

*neil staring at andrew from across the court*

“Andrew made an impossible save, it was hot”

*from off camera* “junkie”

*some backliner all up in neils face, clearly arguing and screaming at him*

“I don’t even remember what I said to him but it clearly set him off.”

*aaron and neil arguing with each other*

“I don’t even remember what I said to him but it clearly set him off. Probably deserved it”

*neil getting up after a nasty tackle and limping off the court after Dan sent him off*

“I was fine”

*Andrew from off screen* “You were not fucking fine you almost broke a rib”

“Yeah, but I didn’t” *shrugs*

*neil running and jumping into matt’s arms after the game ends*

“I was just thinking ‘this is what it must be like to be tall’ honestly”

“If that’s what Kevin and Matt are seeing all the time, I’m not interested”

*watching the teams shaking hands at the end of the game*

“Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. Good player. Asshole. Asshole. Fuck him. Good player. Honestly a good team overall, can’t complain”

His mic would pick him up mimicking the opposing teams accents (subconsciously or on purpose). And it would start a conspiracy amongst fans about what neils real accent is

[kidvoodoo]

Jeest Mafia AU, snippet under the cut 💚💙

Joost tried not to make eye contact with anyone at the airport, though the stares he received at his battered face were inevitable. How many tall, blond, bandaged, bruised and bloody men were in a hurried rush to the terminal? Odds say: not many.

‘Not that I should be thinking about odds right now’ chided his conscience, ‘that’s how I got into this mess in the first place…’

His pace didn’t falter despite the looks from the other passengers lining up in their respective lines. All of them with bags and luggage alike underarm or trailing behind them, his own, suspiciously absent.

No time to pack, clothes on his back, phone, wallet and a little vial of two small white pills. Security checkpoint nearly put an end to those, but a desperate, puppy-eyed look and his disheveled state made the officer roll her eyes and wave him through, for all she knew, or anyone knew, it was aspirin.

‘Fix more than a headache’ his inner thoughts sneered, ‘steady on Joost, for emergencies only’.

He kept his eyes on the gate numbers, briefly glancing at the destinations. Cabo, Shanghai, Johannesburg, each a far flung place he could have potentially laid low in for months, relax on some resort beach or in a high class penthouse…

But that’s not where he’s headed.

He spies the glowing gate number, the destination? Helsinki, Finland. He got the ticket the same day he got the phone call telling him to leave as fast as possible, his usually calm and monotone source had an edge of panic to their voice, Joost trashed the burner after that and shredded the last of his books and burned them. He left his apartment as the ashes were still smoldering.

Finland eh? The only clue of what was happening next was the note in the ticket envelope, hurried scrawling in broken Dutch gave him simple instructions:

Taxi to the airport, pay in cash. Get on the plane. Make sure you are in the camera view the whole time, locate the Air Marshal and watch him. Once you are off the plane, head to the pick up zone in the parking lot and look for the black limo. Tap on the driver’s side window and give the password.

“Here for Tommy’s boy” he mutters under his breath. The magic words that’ll guarantee his safety and freedom, or will land him a bullet between the brows…

Better than the alternative.

He’s on time for the early boarding and hands the Steward his ticket, eyeing the Air Marshal at the doors to the plane’s walkway. He’s given a smile and some well wishes for his flight and finally, for the first time in several days, he feels a little sliver of calm wash over him.

‘Can’t cut me up on the plane you fuckers’

He finds his seat, window view and close to the front of the plane and plops down, the ache in his joints and back starting to flare up since the adrenaline begins to wear off.

Finland…he’s uncertain exactly what is waiting for him there, he regrets not grabbing a translation booklet at the terminal kiosk but there was simply no time. His new phone is IP hidden for the time being till he can get a VPN to bounce his signal, so no using Google’s underwhelming translation system…

He thinks back to a conversation he overheard at a conference last year. The big guys were all there, each of them with a meaty bodyguard in tow and a pistol or two brandished in plain sight.

He was there on happenstance, just finishing up the numbers to hand to his boss for the last fiscal year when his curiosity got the best of him.

“Baltic’s are at it again,” his boss sneers, tapping his cigar onto the floor, “think they’ll hide behind the Nordic cunts so they don’t have to play anymore”.

“Hm.” Another well dressed older man hums in response. He’s the police liaison, a former Captain who’s been working with the mob for 40 years. “Not much to be done about it Albert, the Fins have the advantage now, I hear they’ve even brought Estonia into the fold now.”

Albert snorts, getting to his feet and giving a couple other well-dressed people a farewell wave.

“Cuz of that little shit,” he grumbles, motioning his bodyguard to get a move on. “What’s his name? Kät-something? The Union fucker.”

“Käärijä,” the former Police Captain supplies, “his Union is very bold for an upstart, cutting off the trade in the Baltic’s disrupts everything. Heard he’s in talks of making a deal with the Norwegians as well. That’s the case? Say goodbye to the big money”.

Joost tried to linger as long as possible to catch the last bit of conversation, tucking himself against the wall and listening close.

“Damn idiot, Norway doesn’t play with the new players, even if the young lady is supposedly running things over there now. He’s a fucking lunatic to think the Baltic’s will stay loyal, he’ll be done by the end of the year, mark my words-“

A dinging noise jolts him awake from his daze, the Flight Attendants are doing their safety check. The doors to the plane are closed and for the first time in weeks, months even, Joost’s tense shoulders drop with exhaustion.

He is safe. For now.

<><><>

Roughly three hours later, he startles awake.

The voice over the intercom of the plane cabin announces in several languages that they have arrived at Helsinki Airport and will begin the landing process momentarily.

He spares a glance around the cabin out of paranoia, nothing out of the ordinary and no unwanted eyes in his direction.

Twenty minutes later and he’s heading out of the plane and into the airport terminal. The weather outside is gray and snowy, the sky a mass of colorless clouds and the sun choked somewhere behind. He shivers just looking at the weather, his cheap suit jacket will definitely not suffice.

He heads down the walkways and tried not to get too overwhelmed with the directions, mostly in Finnish but thankfully also in English.

He’s only a hundred feet from the parking lot when he feels eyes on his back. He tries subtly to peak behind and catch if he’s being followed.

Two men, both in dark blue suits and expensive leather shoes, each sporting a grim, intense expression. They have their hands in their pockets.

Joost picks up his pace, eyes focused on the automatic doors that swing open and shut.

He can hear them closing behind him, their shoes loud against the tiles. He starts to jog.

He doesn’t stop to apologize to the people he pushes past to get out of the door, ignoring the scowls and curses thrown his way. His heart is hammering in his chest, he has but a minute to locate the car before he’s dragged off and butchered in a dark corner…

A car horn blares loudly as he flinches and freezes, he had walked right out in front of a pair of high beams, his eyes don’t have time to adjust as he hurriedly runs around to look.

Black limousine, tinted windows with triple thick bulletproof glass and chrome trimming. The driver’s side window rolls down, a bald man with sunglasses and a mustache regards him blankly.

“P-please,” he stammers, eyes catching the two suited men finally breaching the threshold. “I-I’m being followed-“

“What is phrase?” The driver interrupts, not at all phased by the situation in the slightest.

“Th-the wha-oh yes yes, it’s uh…” he swallows takes a breath and speaks the words softly enough for the man to hear him.

“I’m here for Tommy’s boy.”

The door at the back of the limo clicks open, beckoning him inside.

He all but dives into the car and slams the door shut just as the two men make a dash towards the vehicle, only to stop dead in their tracks mere feet away.

Joost doesn’t have the time to take in his surroundings as he sees what has halted his stalkers. In the split second before the limo peels out with a loud screeching of tires, the window on the opposite side is down just enough to see the startled and blanched faces of the two men, who find themselves held in place by a man aiming a 45 caliber handgun at them.

Were it to fire at point blank range, one of the two men would have nearly had his torso blown open. More than a lethal shot, truly overkill at that point.

The car peels out of the lot and before he knows it, Joost is tossed back into he seat as the limo put some speedy distance between him and the danger.

A loud curse and sound of a window being rolled up. Joost finally levels his eyes behind his cracked glasses to see his savior.

Sitting across from him now with the gun held loosely in his grip is a dark haired man with pale skin. He sports a blunted bowl cut and his facial hair is trimmed and tidy. He wears a long black coat with a layered polo necked jumper and a couple silver chains around his neck. The jewelry matches his pierced ears and nose rings, the whole of his attire is expensive and modern looking.

Joost is drawn into the man’s piercing eyes, blue like his own but with an edge of silver steel, made more intimidating and entrancing by the heavy makeup that lines them.

The man is staring at him, Joost’s palms immediately start to sweat.

“I uh,”

“You are the Dutchman we take in?” The man interrupts, his voice has an hint of annoyance, Joost nods politely and holds out his hand to shake.

“Yes, I mean to say, thank you,” he tries to muster a charming smile but finds himself pinned under the man’s gaze like a deer being watched through a hunter’s scope.

“I’m sure this is a bit of trouble for you-“

“Trouble? I say it is bigger trouble for you and not me. You need a drink yes? I have gin and brandy here.” The man all but ignores whatever Joost was trying to say and busies himself with pouring a drink from a side bar containing glasses and some bottles. “Brandy since the gin is warm, I not have a lot of time to get it ready.”

Joost wants to say something, anything to this stranger but finds himself at an utter loss for words. The man looks at him expectantly, pushing the glass of amber liquor into his hands.

“There you drink that, feel better afterwards. You say you looking for Tommy’s boy? That is what he tell you to say? He think he is funny man, he gonna have to explain to me…” the man trails off, eyes now scanning and taking in Joost’s disheveled appearance. “You have injury? I have some bandage here and some other things uh,” the man stops and searches for a word. “you know, doctor supplies?”

“First aid kit?” Joost supplies.

“Ah yes yes! That is it,” the man grins and digs around a bit before huffing in annoyance and opening the little sliding window to the driver’s compartment. He asks for something in Finnish and the bald man replies. Information gathered, he opens a compartment and fishes out a nondescript black case.

“Okei here it is. Let me see your hand, you have blood on your palm.” He does? Joost was in such a mad dash to get away from the goons who had jumped him back in the Netherlands he didn’t have time to take stock of his injuries. He holds out his hand timidly and the man yanks it none too gently to inspect.

“No stitches I think,” he hums, grabbing supplies to clean and patch the gash on Joost’s palm.

The man’s grip is firm and steady, there is warm radiating from beneath the leather gloves he wears.

“You are Mr. Klein eh?” The man says absentmindedly as he cleans the wound. “I hear you screw your boss out two million euros, not bad.” The man smirks, eyes flickering up to Joost’s face. “I like someone who disrupts the status quo. When Tommy say you in trouble, I had to do something about it. Would be a waste for you ending up in concrete.”

Joost cringes a little at the mention of his dilemma, taking a long gulp of his drink and reveling in the burn.

“I don’t know about disruption, I just did what I thought was right is all. Didn’t think it would go this far…” he wishes he could be more proud, he did take a chunk of money from the hands of the worst men in Europe. Now, he’s a marked man, possibly forever.

The dark haired man seems to sense his discomfort and finishes dressing his hand, grabbing a gauze patch and passing it over.

“What is done is done, you think it is bad thing now, but you make a big move, and now you have a big advantage for the war that is coming.”

Joost finishes placing the gauze over the gash on his cheek, looking at the man puzzlingly.

“What war? And what advantage are you talking about?”

The man leans back against his seat and smiles, his sharp canines peak over his lips and his expression is one of amusement and vicious excitement.

“The war between the Union and the Old Men, tear down their ruined kingdom and make our own. The advantage? That’s easy,”

The man chuckles darkly.

“You have Käärijä in your corner now.”

[theecholegend]

Legends

Heads up: I have a few art things I made a while ago (some of them I started and am only now trying to finish) that I’ll finally post these upcoming days

[gillionmeowstrider]

certified pirate D.I.L.F. on the albatross ‼️‼️