#best sneakers under 2000

[o2toes]

O2Toes provides stylish and comfortable Casual Shoes For Mens. From casual sneakers to shoes, we offer a wide range of options to suit every taste. Step out in style with O2Toes Shoes.

[murdrdocs]

every passing moment

description. sitting in the front seat of patrick zweig’s car, it’s nearly impossible to pretend like you don’t want him. it's impossible to pretend you didn't come for this.

includes. SMUT 18+, car sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p n v, lots of denial from reader, some manhandling, sort of mean patrick, also mean reader, hooking up w a friends ex (but consensually!), takes place in the 2000s

wc. 3.6k+

a/n: cannot be bothered to edit sawrryy. based on a req i got forever ago. art creds unknown. title from so into you by tamia

“You can stop pretending.” 

You pause your insistent flipping through radio stations to glare in Patrick’s direction. His eyes are straight ahead, staring at the red streetlight through the rain still pattering down onto the windshield. You narrow your eyes in distaste, trying not to notice the way the light illuminates the shape of his face. 

“Pretending?” 

Patrick shrugs, glancing at you for a moment before the light is green and he’s facing the road again. 

“Yeah. Pretending that you’re not into me.” He says it with such assurance as if his statement is a fact of matter and not just an arrogant assumption. 

You scoff and decide on a station playing the final bits of a Katy Perry song. Maybe you would have been able to distinguish the song if it weren’t for the volume of the blood pumping through your body. You’ve been attempting to ignore it the entire time, ever since you and Patrick dropped Art off at a friend's place.

But there was something about being alone with Patrick and sitting in the front of his car. It affects you. When you were sitting in the back of the car and looking out of the window, you weren’t focused on anything other than how long it would take to get back to your dorm. Patrick and Art were as they usually were—Patrick and Art, extensions of the other. They joked, laughed, and included you for a bit before Patrick wrongfully proclaimed that you were asleep. You were in your world and they were in theirs. But now you’re part of Patrick’s world, forced to listen to him scoff at the song playing and click to another station. Forced to kick away an empty Monster can that rolls back and hits the toe of your sneakers. Forced to smell his cologne, previously too strong but now worn off to a more pleasant intensity, carry towards your nose with the cold AC. 

Before, you were able to pretend that you didn’t want Patrick. Now, you’re right next to him, bumping your elbow with his as they both rest on the center console. Mumbling the same lyrics—although Patrick gets the words slightly wrong—to the same song. There is a certain harmony that exists in this space, shining a light on your true desires, the ones you pushed down with eye rolls and groans whenever Art insinuated that you had feelings for his best friend. The desires you pushed away even whenever Tashi exclaimed that what she and Patrick had was nothing but a thing that they had, and you were free to swoop in if you pleased. 

Now, sitting in the front seat of Patrick Zweig’s car, it’s nearly impossible to pretend like you don’t want him. It’s impossible to pretend like you didn’t come dressed for this. 

Your meticulously crafted outfit screams in your face. Your best pair of jeans, the ones that hugged your ass just right and had gotten you laid twice this semester already. A tiny enough top to warrant attention without being obvious that that’s what you wanted—it ended right above your navel and was thin enough for your tits, unrestrained by a bra, to press against the fabric. In certain lighting, like the lighting coming from the stoplight, for example, you could see your nipples poking through. 

When you glance over at Patrick again, you catch him glancing down at your tits. You scoff like it’s not what you wanted, but you cross your arms under your bust and enhance the pair anyway. 

The car ride is going fine. Patrick’s chosen station plays hit after hit to fill the silence as he steadily heads toward your dorm. You’re only a few minutes away, no more than 7 if the stoplights weren’t taking too long, and then Patrick pulls into a gas station. 

You look over at him, your eyes squinted and your eyebrows furrowed. 

“What’re you doing?” 

He puts the car in park next to a pump. “Getting gas,” he tells you factually as if you’re the outrageous one. 

He closes the door before you can argue with him but you reach over and press the button to roll down the window before the battery completely turns off. 

“My dorm is literally right down the street. You couldn’t wait?” You hiss at him through the open window, watching him insert his card and put his PIN in. Unsurprisingly, his PIN is his birth year. 

“It’s easier this way,” he takes his card out of the reader and opens the tank. “Otherwise I would’ve had to double back. Too much work. Waste of gas.” 

You huff and fall back into your seat, just a tad bit upset that Patrick would’ve had the perfect view of your tits if he looked away from the dirtied gas pump for just a second. 

You sit for a moment, tapping your finger against the plastic door handle. You pull a stick of gum out of your purse. 

“Pass me one,” Patrick demands, doesn’t ask. 

You make a point of smacking on your piece as you tell him, “It’s the last one.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls the corner of his lips into his cheek and glances back at the screen steadily counting up. 

He looks back at you. His eyes scan your frame and you can’t help but feel a little satisfied. 

“You look really pretty right now.” He tells you. His compliment should flatter you, and it mostly does, but he gave you those eyes. The ones you’ve seen him throw at multiple women, hoping it would get him what he wants. 

You’re sure that you and him currently share the same wants, but you want him to be a little shameless about it. For the sake of your pride, you can’t give it away this easily. So you retort. 

“Oh my God, Patrick. Fuck off!” Petulantly, you cross your arms over your chest and focus your attention on the mostly empty building in front of you. 

“I’m serious.” And he sounds serious. He sounds earnest. It’s the softest you’ve ever heard Patrick speak and you don’t know if he’s doing it to get in your pants, or if he has no ulterior motives. 

You don’t know which one you prefer more. 

You don’t know how to respond. Silence seems to be the best answer for you. 

It’s not satisfactory for Patrick. “This is usually the part where you’ll accept my compliment. Maybe give one back.”

“That would be the part if I were another one of your conquests. Which I’m not.”

“You wouldn’t be another one of my conquests.”

“You tell everyone that? Or just girls that you think ‘look really pretty’.”

“Alright, whatever. Will thinking that you’re another one of my conquests help you? Would it take some pressure away from all of this?” He gestures wildly between the two of you. The tank reaches its limit behind him and he places the nozzle back in its home. 

He’s back in the car with the engine turned on and his seatbelt on when you respond. 

“It doesn’t matter, Patrick. Because I’m not sleeping with you.”

He laughs. The sound is irritating. It makes your nostrils flare and your skin burn. 

“What’s funny? I didn’t think someone finally not wanting you would be so entertaining.”

“Oh, people don’t want me all the time. You’re just not one of them.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Look,” he puts the car into drive and starts off towards your dorm. “I know you wanna sleep with me. It’s fine if you don’t admit it to me, maybe even yourself, but it’s obvious. You’re just too egotistical. You think you’re superior to me because—what? You chose a ‘real job’ over tennis? That doesn’t make you superior, it makes you scared. And that’s okay. You’re scared of your own potential and you’re scared of how bad you want me. That’s fine,” he spits your name out with a natural ease that used to flatter you. Now it pisses you off. “Just don’t walk around like that’s not the truth.” 

You have the urge to tell him to pull the car over. You have the urge to spew out every nasty insult you’ve ever thought about him, some of them even Tashi’s own t words that she’d shared with you after the breakup. But you’re only a block away from your dorm and you refuse to waste your energy on Patrick. That and you know if you try, your voice will crack and you’ll embarrass yourself. 

Instead, you turn the radio up and sit with your anger until Patrick pulls up to your dorm. 

Your seatbelt clicks to free you, the door is unlocked, opened, and closed, and you’re turned to face the entrance when the sound of the window unrolling stops you. 

“Call me when you’re done lying to yourself.”

He doesn’t leave until you’re inside the building. 

Even then, he isn’t gone for long. 

You’re standing in front of the elevator, waiting for the familiar ding! so you can crawl upstairs to your room, call Tashi, and tell her about this horrible night. 

But you knew you wouldn’t be satisfied. You knew the night couldn’t end like this. 

So just when the elevator reaches you and opens its doors, you have your phone pressed to your ear and Patrick’s number ringing. 

He picks up on the second ring and he just laughs. Big and boisterous like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world. 

You huff, considering hanging up and going upstairs. But you shift your stance and the seam of your jeans presses right into the center of your cunt and you know you couldn’t ignore it anymore. 

“Don’t be an ass. Just come back.” 

When you walk out the door, he’s back in the same spot. 

The car door is opened, the yellow light turning on and illuminating Patrick’s sick fucking smirk, and you don’t say anything as you sit in the passenger seat. You don’t bother clicking your seatbelt on. 

“Why don’t we just go upstairs?” he suggests. 

“I’m not checking you in.” I don’t want proof of this ever happening, is what you don’t say to him. Even without the fine print being verbalized, Patrick knows what you mean. 

He hums, a sound that infuriates you just as much as his laugh, but then he puts the car into gear and starts off towards wherever he’s taking you. 

You end up in the parking lot behind one of the science buildings. It’s empty, completely desolate besides a half-drunken bottle of blue Gatorade and a campus security pole that shines a deep blue. The light isn’t bright enough to penetrate the foggy windows of Patrick’s Honda, but the streetlights that keep the parking lot lit are. 

The white light sits along Patrick’s cheekbones. It’s flat against the straight line of his nose. It’s barely there, right along his prominent cupid bow. 

You can’t help but sit and admire his face. You can’t help but admire the way sweat has started to coat his hairline, threatening to drip down over his thick eyebrows and fall onto his cheek. You can feel your own sweat coming through your pores, but you can’t feel that more than you can feel Patrick’s fingers fucking up into you, two thick digits plunging into your walls over and over again. 

You can’t believe you’re actually doing it, following up on the encouragement from both Tashi and Art. You’re finally giving in to all of those dreams that you pushed out of your mind as soon as you could, or those brief pictures of Patrick’s face in your head whenever you were trying to picture your latest celebrity crush instead. 

Now, Patrick is all you see. 

When you’re verbally asking him to use his mouth on you, you only see Patrick’s smirk. It’s real and raw and right in front of you. And you can’t stop staring. 

Even when he contorts his large body to bring his face right between your legs, and you can only really see from the tip of his nose up, you don’t stop staring. When the pleasure mounts and climbs up your spine, you don’t stop staring, even when your eyes beg to flutter closed just to focus on the pleasure. 

You’re zoned out and you know it. You’re staring at Patrick’s eyes, even when he’s watching your cunt and you can only see his eyelids. Your own eyes have glazed over from refusing to blink, and when you do blink—an action that’s pulled from you when Patrick flicks his tongue over your clit just right—a twin set of tears glide down your cheeks. 

It’s then that Patrick decides to look at you again and you can feel his smile. 

Thinner than usual and more pursed as it’s the position of his lips, but the expression is pressed right up against you and you can feel it so intimately. It’s really a shame that the thing you hate most is the thing that gets you right to the edge. 

Patrick baring his teeth and gently nipping on your clit as he twists his fingers inside of you is the thing that makes you throw your hand out to grip the back of the passenger seat, your back arching as your mouth throws out moans that you don’t mean to be as loud as they are. 

And Patrick just helps you ride through it. Even when you hook your legs around his head and twist your fingers into his hair, keeping his face dangerously close to your cunt, he helps you out. He’s more generous than you would’ve thought, and you don’t want to think about how many orgasms Patrick Zweig would be willing to give you before asking for one of his own. So you don’t. 

Instead, you think about the way you’re grinding your cunt against Patrick’s face. As soon as you realize you’re doing it, you stop. You unhook your legs and let his hair go and when he comes up for air, you refuse to meet his eye. 

After all of that staring, you suddenly are completely uninterested in Patrick’s blue eyes, including the little speck of blood-orange he has in them. 

Patrick snickers and with him being this close to you, you can smell yourself on his breath. Why does that make you want to kiss him more?

“Come on. After I just made you cum you won’t even look at me?”

You reach above you to click the car light on and immediate regret finds you. Because now that there’s a substantial amount of light in the car, you can see the way Patrick’s clean-shaven chin, plump lips, and perky nose shine. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where all of the shimmer has come from, especially not when the evidence is still smeared all over your pussy and inner thighs. 

You dart your eyes to the side, looking at Patrick’s floor in search of the firetruck red pair of panties you were wearing. You look, and look, pushing away bottles and plastic bags and a pair of sneakers, and when you don’t find them, you huff and try to reach around Patrick to grab your jeans that have landed on the center console. 

He bends out of the way, letting you grab the jeans, waiting for your next move. 

“You can take me back to my dorm now.”

He hesitates. He doesn’t say anything. And then, “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” he asks it as if he knows the answer. 

You know the answer. Still, you look at him, feigning unimpressed with your jeans hanging limply in your hands. You should put them back on. You’ve got what you came here for, a really good orgasm, and now it’s time you start working on the paper you’ve been putting off. A paper you absolutely despised. A paper that you would do anything to escape, or at least put off a bit. 

Anything including letting Patrick Zweig fuck you. 

Yeah, that’s not the only reason why you let Patrick fuck you. You’ve wanted him for a while and you’ve been fairly obvious about it. The classic childhood approach to your attraction wasn’t fooling anyone. Masking your attraction with annoyance didn’t do anything but make you want him more. 

In the end, it wasn’t effective, as it still brought you here:

On your hands and knees in the back of Patrick’s car, letting him defile you from the back, remaining completely uncaring of the heat and the volume of your moans. 

You’ll admit, this isn’t how you imagined fucking Patrick. You imagined it being somewhere more appropriate, for starters. In a bed or on a couch perhaps. But everything else about it, you’ve imagined. 

The way he fucks you, rough and without abandon, is how you imagined it. The way he just takes and takes is how you imagined it. Late at night when you would slip your hands between your thighs, hoping to provide even a bit of reprieve, you imagined it like this. 

You imagined his grunts right in your ear. You imagined the feeling of his balls slapping against your cunt. You imagined the feeling of his hands on your hips. But now you don’t have to imagine, it’s all real. 

“Good?” Patrick asks from behind you. 

Your lips move on their own accord. “‘s so good. Just like I imagined.” 

You regret the admission as soon as it’s in the stiff air. You regret even thinking about it whenever Patrick snickers, curt and confident. 

“Just like you imagined, huh? Knew you—fuck, you feel good—I knew you wanted me.” 

His words are redundant at this point. It’s obvious that you’ve wanted Patrick the entire time. Now, he just wants to rub it in your face. He’s treating you like a pet, a big hand on the back of your head and rubbing your face in the mess you’ve made. Quite literally, as he palms the back of your head and pushes your face down into the seat at one point, smearing your nose in the sweat and arousal left over from your first orgasm. 

But he’s not reprimanding you. He’s encouraging you. 

He’s hooking a hand over your shoulder and pulling you back onto each of his thrusts. He’s hunching over your body as best as he can in the tight space and resting his head against your spine. 

When you feel a glob of drool meets the center of your back, it suddenly occurs to you that Patrick has wanted this as much as you have. He’s been chasing after you the entire time, apparently, if you could trust the words of Art and Tashi. 

You tune in, allowing yourself to hear him, to be with him in this brief moment. You’re made aware of his groans, how deep and throaty they are, how sincere they are. You notice how the drag of his cock out of you is slower than the push back in. It’s almost as if he’s savoring the time that he’s in you, prolonging it as long as possible. Yet, he slides out nearly all the way, only stopping when his mushroom tip is settled within you, your cunt clasped around it like a vice. And then he glides back in, swift and gentle. 

Over and over again. And no matter how much he’s trying to prolong it, no matter how much he’s trying to prevent the inevitable, it approaches steadily. You’re close before you notice it, hands gripping the door handle and the leather seats. 

You don’t warn him. If you feared he was going to stop or change something, maybe you would have told him that you were close. But Patrick isn’t one to change something that’s working well so you really had nothing to worry about. 

Soon enough, when your orgasm is at its peak and you’re letting noise after noise spill past your lips, Patrick joins you. His forehead resting against your shoulder, his hips sloppily knocking into yours. 

It’s harmonious. Possibly the most (willingly) in tune you and Patrick Zweig have ever been. Likely the most willingly in tune the two of you will ever be. 

When it’s over, it’s over. There’s no more harmony. You nudge yourself back, getting Patrick off of you. You abandon the search for your panties and just settle with slipping your jeans back on, doing the same for your bra and shirt. You climb into the front seat, leaving Patrick in the back to catch his breath and redress. 

He leaves the car to walk around to the driver's side and you use that one moment where he isn’t there to ask yourself what the fuck?

The drive back is silent. No music, no conversation, just the sound of rubber against asphalt. Patrick asks you one thing. 

“Do you wanna go anywhere else?”

“I’m fine.”

And then you’re back at your dorm. You take a moment, mulling over your possibilities. You could have Patrick park in a visitor's spot, come up to your dorm, and spend time with you. You could resort back to your usual banter, maybe throw in an insult that doesn’t have to do with the way he defiled you just a few minutes ago (because there really isn’t anything negative you could say about that). 

Instead, you open the door and step out. 

“Thanks,” is all you tell him. 

When you get upstairs, you consider the possibility of telling Tashi or Art. Instead, you take a shower and go to sleep. 

[here-comes-the-moose]

Bad Batch Modern AU Headcanons Under the Cut

Echo

Does not like red wine. It gives him a headache and heartburn (he’s just like me fr).

Plans Friday Fundays with Omega after she gets out of school.

Great at cooking and baking, but absolutely needs to follow the recipe. If he’s tries to improvise or experiment, the food is not edible at all.

Can flawlessly do a shot with no hands.

Has done a keg stand.

Before the loss of his limbs, he used to NEVER get hungover, no matter how much he drank. Even now, his hangovers are pretty mild. He’s just built different.

Was recruited to be one of the room parents for Omega’s class.

The only one who can get through to Crosshair when his mental health gets really bad.

Has their house decorated like the most stereotypical suburban mom. I’m talking Live Laugh Love signs, a beach-themed bathroom, so many throw pillows and blankets that you can barely sit, a rotation on of seasonal decor, the list goes on.

Hunter

Cannot sing for shit.

The king of dad jokes.

Has absolutely no fashion sense. Negative drip. He’s wearing socks and sandals unironically.

World’s worst cook. Managed to burn and undercook a pancake. Gave Crosshair food poisoning.

Banned from grilling after he set all the food they got for their 4th of July barbecue on fire.

Gets migraines. He gets extremely sensitive to sound and smells.

The only person Crosshair lets look after him when he isn’t feeling well.

Views expiration dates as suggestions. Somehow has never gotten sick.

Constantly going on Tinder dates.

Tech

Total chick magnet.

Does not realize this.

Constantly drives over the speed limit (except in school zones) but miraculously has never gotten a speeding ticket.

Best at making cocktails.

The most intense one about making sure they all eat healthy.

His shoulders and neck get really tense, from sitting at a computer and from carrying most of his stress there.

Does not like crispy bacon.

Wrecker

Grill master.

Actually great at cooking and baking. He can improvise and experiment with ease and the food comes out even better.

Always showing off photos of Omega when he’s at work.

Saw the Barbie movie more than once. He cried each time.

LOVES to listen to Kesha.

His music taste is basically just 2000’s-2010’s party girl music.

Used to choreograph dances that he would then perform with Crosshair and Fives for the rest of their family when they were kids.

Gives the best massages.

Wears the New Balance dad sneakers. Crosshair HATES them.

Crosshair

Banned from their local Applebee’s for getting extremely sloppy off their dollaritas.

Gets motion sick sometimes, mostly in cars.

HATES air travel.

Top three artists on Spotify are My Chemical Romance, Taylor Swift, and Lana Del Rey (he’s just like me fr)

Also gets migraines. Unlike Hunter, he isn’t that sound sensitive, but he gets extremely sensitive to light and smells and gets auras with his migraines.

Also saw the Barbie movie more than once (he went with Wrecker). He also cried.

Has a crush on Tony Soprano (don’t ask why the thought came into my head and wouldn’t leave)

Babies and toddlers love him for some reason.

Will not eat or drink something if the expiration date is within two days. Gets extremely grossed out by Hunter not caring for expiration dates.

Secretly a hopeless romantic.

Omega

Learned her first curse word from Echo when he let one slip while driving.

Repeated the word in front of Hunter, who nearly had a heart attack.

Looks just like Crosshair when he was a kid.

Likes going out with Crosshair because he almost always gets her a little treat.

Gets annoyed by how many people in her class and some of their parents have a crush on one of her brothers.

Has tried to play matchmaker for her brothers before.

All of her brothers give amazing hugs, but she secretly thinks Echo’s are the best.

Batcher

She was a rescue dog.

She’s a gray pittie.

Her favorite person is Crosshair and she’s always following him around and is always at his side.

Goes crazy for cold cuts.

Was originally going to be brought to the shelter if they couldn’t find an owner, but Hunter agreed to keep her when he saw how happy she made Omega and Crosshair.

Her tail has a kink because it broke and didn’t heal properly.

Feel free to add more if you’d like! I have included some of these in my Modern AU works.

[imnotavamp1r3]

🎀☆ How to dress like Avril Lavigne in the 2000s! ☆🎀

☆ Let Go (2002-2003):

This era was definitely her most punk era, as she incorporated a lot of punk staples in her fashion. She would mostly wear tank tops, coloured graphic tees, boot-cut pants, spiked or studded bracelets, sneakers, and of course, ties.

I noticed that her shirts would often be cropped and her pants would be very low-waisted, with the waistband of her underwear showing sometimes. She also didn't seem to wear belts very much during this era, but she did wear a ton of bracelets (like there was one picture where I think I counted ten 😭). Her clothes would mostly be very loose, with only her tops being more form fitting.

☆ Under My Skin (2004-2005):

This is Avril's best era both in fashion and music, and I will never forgive people for ignoring it. Since Under My Skin was a very dark post-grunge album, her style changed to suit this. She wore mostly black during this period and I think she also started experimenting a lot with her style at this time.

She mainly wore Tripp pants, black shirts, studded belts, zipped up zip-up hoodies, and even fishnetty things sometimes. If she ever wore any colours other than black, it would usually be red or sometimes pink. I noticed that this was also when she started wearing skirts and tutus. Her style was definitely very emo during this time, so I think this period is a very good reference for recreating mid-2000s emo fashion.

☆ The Best Damn Thing (2006-2008):

I know TBDT was released in 2007, but I'm putting the start of this era at 2006 because that's when Over the Hedge was released, which I feel marked a bit of a shift in her image to be more pop punk princess as opposed to pop punker. This is definitely her most different style era, especially since it came after Under My Skin. This might even be my favourite era for her style just because of how unique it is.

Her main colours during this time were obviously black and pink, and unlike her previous album cycles, she mostly wore skirts and rarely wore pants. Her main staples during this period were pink plaid skirts, white t-shirts with black graphics, fishnets, striped quarter socks, Nike sneakers, and tutus. She wore a lot less bracelets, and would usually wear either just one or a singular wristband. This era seemed to have some mcbling influence, as she would even wear bump-its in her hair sometimes.

She also launched Abbey Dawn in 2008, so pieces from Abbey Dawn or similar brands are also a good thing to have to emulate this period's style.

I really liked writing this one, so if you have suggestions for other people that I could make how to dress like posts on, feel free to comment!

[sciderman]

since we're here in osborn hell, here's one of my favourite little chapters from it came from outer space! with one rare appearance from one norman osborn

Peter could throw up. 

With how mad he was, he could tear through concrete like tissue. 

It was everywhere. 

Everywhere he looked. 

Every tabloid. Every sleazy celebrity magazine. Every news outlet. 

Harry Osborn. 

Son of billionaire scientist Norman Osborn and heir to Oscorp, 23rd largest company on Forbes’ Global 2000 list. 

Gay. 

Like it’s such a fucking big deal. 

Harry was being jumped on by everyone. Everyone wanted a ride. Everyone wanted to point and heckle. 

Caught in the act, with some big-name fashion model Peter’s never heard of. 

High cheekbones, and a sprinkle of freckles. Tight cherub-like curls. Legs for days. 

Carved by Michaelangelo. 

Peter burned with envy. 

Peter bit that down, and focused on Harry. 

His best friend. 

Publicly outed. 

The million-dollar photo, printed in every paper.  

Harry’s hand shielding his face. Hiding his eyes from the camera. 

Peter tore the paper to shreds. 

Peter Parker had spent his whole life hiding. 

Harry Osborn didn’t have that luxury. 

Peter had wondered if Harry had even tried. 

Red marks circling his neck, and going about his day. He didn’t seem to care who saw. 

It wasn’t a big deal. 

Spider-man momentarily stumbled over his feet as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop. A beeline to Oscorp industries. 

Harry wasn’t taking interviews. 

In fact, he’d disappeared from the radar all together. 

“Oscorp Industries will not issue a statement at this time, but would like to assure stakeholders that Harold Osborn will step away from the public eye.” 

Typical. 

So fucking typical, that they’d try to bury Harry like this. 

Take everything they’re ashamed of and sweep it under the rug, like it never happened. 

“I need to talk to Harry. Harry Osborn.” 

Peter’s fingers frantically drummed the desk of reception. His heart was racing. Thrumming in his ears. He’d attribute it to the pace at which he swang across the city to get here. All the blood in his head left his limbs numb. 

“I’m sorry, Harry Osborn isn’t here. Can I take a message?” 

“No. No. I’ve tried that already and they don’t –” 

Peter released his grip from the counter when he noticed the faint cracking sound under his fingers. 

“I need to see him. I’m – I’m Peter Parker.” Peter said, unsure if that meant anything at all to anyone. “I’m his friend.” 

The receptionist offered a sympathetic frown. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Parker, but without an appointment I can do very little apart from try to pass on your message.” 

Peter stepped back, throwing hands up in defeat. 

“Thanks.” 

Normally that would be the end of it. 

Peter should just go home and forget about it. 

It’s not his problem. 

Peter backed towards the wide, glass doors of the Oscorp building. 

Before he sprinted, a mad-dash, leaping over the key-card terminal that granted employee access. 

“Mr Parker!” 

His sneakers skid as he made way to the elevators, frantically pressing the button. 

A team of three security guards came on the approach. 

Stairs it is . 

Peter slipped fast to the stairway, racing up the steps, three at a time. 

More cardio than Peter would’ve ever liked to do in one lifetime, and he was still catching his breath from swinging here. But the suit made him stronger. Made his bounds lighter. Pushed him forward, faster. 

He’d lost the three initial security guards floors below – they didn’t have the superhuman stamina to climb a skyscraper. But more guards found him on higher levels, jumping him. 

He threw one against the wall. One sent flying through the door they came through. One backing away, clearly not paid enough to be tossed around a stairwell by an angry 20-something out for blood on a Tuesday afternoon. 

More guards at every level. Couldn’t slow him down. Peter barraged through them unrelentingly. He moved too fast. He lept and dodged, feather-light on his feet. 

One guard knicked him with a taser. 

He didn’t feel it. 

He grabbed it and ran, snapping it in half. He threw it down the stairwell, narrowly avoiding someone’s head. 

He didn’t care what damage he wrought. 

He didn’t care about anything, but reaching the top. 

“Peter.” 

He was greeted as he burst through the doors of the executive level of the Oscorp building. 

Norman Osborn. 

“If you wanted to talk, you need only make an appointment.” Norman said, civilly. “You know we’ll always accommodate you here, Peter. You’re family.” 

Family.

As if Norman even knew the meaning of the word. 

Guards stormed into the room after Peter, grabbing him by the shoulders and arms. As if that was enough to hold him back. 

Peter didn’t startle. In fact, his glare didn’t leave Norman at all. 

Norman looked at Peter with a fascination in his eyes. An uncomfortable fascination that made Peter’s skin – both of them – crawl. 

Maybe it was a common Osborn trait.

The ability to undress Peter Parker with their eyes. 

Peter was too mad to overthink it. 

Too fired up to consider how a lanky 21 year old being able to effortlessly rush past high-grade security in a multi-billion dollar corporate building might raise suspicion. 

“I won’t press charges, Peter.” Norman said, with a perfectly civil smile. 

Peter could wholeheartedly believe he had the teeth of a shark hiding behind it. 

“You’ve always been like a son to me.” Norman continued, “And a brother to Harry. I know you care, so deeply for him. And I appreciate that. We both do.” 

“Where did you send him?” Peter stepped forward. The staff detaining him could barely keep a hold of him. “Where is Harry?” 

“He’s an adult, Peter.” Norman said, in an unbearably patronizing tone of voice.  “He can make the responsible choice to leave for himself.” 

“You didn’t send him away?” 

Peter thought back to that afternoon in 2004. Waving as Harry got into a car that would steal him away to a European Boarding School for the worst years of Peter Parker’s life. 

“He did it of his own accord.” Norman said, coolly. “He had enough reason to.” 

Peter didn’t believe him. 

“It was such a shame to see you two falling out,” said Norman, in patronizing pity. “You were so close.” 

Peter charged at Norman, unable to stop himself. He’d lost all vision. All sense of self-preservation. He’d managed to grab Norman by the front of his suit before he was torn away by security. 

Peter let them pull him back. 

“He’s your son, Norman. You can try to bury him, but he’s part of you.”

Peter delivered the kind of look that only a man who had the power to snap another man in half could deliver. 

“And everything comes to the surface.” Peter spat, as he was escorted away. “Eventually.” 

Norman smiled. 

“I think you might be right about that, Peter.”

[eggyslang]

Redesigns of the new strawberry shortcake reboot :]

Design notes under the cut:

Strawberry shortcake: I gave her short hair so the silhouette of her head with the beanie looks more strawberry shaped. Also, something about her new look gives me a skater vibe [maybe it’s the beanie? Idk] so I wanted to lean into that with the rest of the outfit. I gave her a graphic tee over a stripy shirt [the green and white stripes call back to some of her past looks], baggy jeans [calling back to her 2003 look], and sneakers that look like red converse [kept from her current look]. I gave her a cute apron with a heart shaped strawberry on it to make her look more like a baker and to give a bit of a 2000’s skirt-over-pants type of silhouette that I think is fun. Also, I’d like to think that her grandma made it for her :]. I put in a lot of hearts in her design because hearts are kinda strawberry shaped and also she seems like a loving, friendship oriented person, so I felt hearts would fit her personality

Blueberry muffin: I wanted to give her a look that matched her kinda weirdgirl personality in the new show. I’ve only seen an episode and a half so I don’t have too much to go off of, but she seemed kinda spiritual, for lack of a better word [loves ghosts, talks about things having “good energy,” etc.] I gave her long, layered skirts to resemble muffin liners as well as add some flowiness to her outfit. Similarly, I gave her a cropped cardigan thing with wide sleeves. I gave her mismatched socks to make her look a little more eclectic. I tried to incorporate a lot of round/circular shapes into her design to make her more blueberry-ish like her mary janes, the circle pendent on her necklace, the round shape of her bangs, her bubble braid hairstyle [idk if that’s what it’s actually called, i just thought it looked cool], and her blue sunglasses. I made her bangs a little messier so it almost seems like she cut her bangs herself.

Orange blossom: her visor is my favourite part of all of these redesigns. I stole it from one of orange cookie’s costumes from cookie run bc it’s just so nice. I put flowers on her shorts to lean into the blossom part of her name. I also gave her a little orange slice watch to incorporate more oranges into her design. I imagine it’s one of those watches that tells you your heart rate and stuff.

Lime chiffon: I’m not really happy with her design but I tried my best. I have her pigtails in the shape of semicircles to look like lime slices. I made her glasses lime shaped. To lean into her nerdy/preppy look, I gave her a sweater vest over a polo. I kept the design of her skirt to be lime-ish. I gave her blueberry’s Ugg-like boots because I wanted to add some brown into her outfit to be like the cake part of a lime chiffon cake.

Lemon meringue: shes not TOO different from her current canon design. I changed her hair to be more lemon shaped. I also thought the shape gave her a bit more of a mad scientist look. I also put some white in her hair to incorporate some meringue-ness. I put some patches on her overalls like she’s used them for a long time and they’ve gotten worn out. Also, it allowed me to add some more lemon-y elements to her outfit. I put a lightning bolt on the chest of the overalls because her voice reminds me of rainbow dash and also i think you can use lemons to make electricity[? I think I did an experiment like that in elementary school]. I made her goggles look like lemon tarts for funsies. I gave her a tool belt to incorporate more brown into the design and bc all inventors need tools handy.

[ddelline]

wip wednesday (ft traumatic post-canon itafushi)

blurb | yea so this is a thing I never thought I would feel inspired 2 write. turns out that I did, and I do: I think the formula is megumi's inherent canonical misery(*infinity) + yūji's inherent canonical saviorism = ddelline wip

premise | follows canon thru ch256, deviates (obvs lol) after that to explore itafushi in a post-canon setting, centering on shared trauma, shared healing, and all of what may become of 2 boys who've been possessed by a 2000 yr curse and forced to bear witness to its murderous actions all the whilst (but it ends in yaoi. I feel compelled 2 point this out, even though it may count as a spoiler)

ok anyway, a lil prelude bit (spoilers 4 ch252) under the cut! posting for the sake of posting, lol, but when a b*tch hasn't delivered a new ao3 entry since october, that's what happens

25th December, 2018; Shinjuku—

In the zero point two second interval before Okkotsu-senpai snaps his right hand up and signs for the Angel’s technique, Yūji gets in close. In the exact second—same breath, same blink-of-eye—that Okkotsu-senpai intones, “Maximum output: Jacob’s Ladder,” and thrusts the katana through Sukuna’s tricep, Yūji lunges. He steps forward, takes one long step in one dizzying arc, and carves a knife-sharpened elbow into Sukuna’s right oblique. In the split breath that follows the incantation, he heaves back, finds his center of gravity and pitches backwards with everything he’s got.

Yūji screams, hoarse and raspy, desperate with futile hope: “It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!”

The battlefield freeze-frames. Suddenly he sees himself, bloodied and bruised and messily reversed-patched whole, land on the balls of his feet outside of the whiteout lance of the Jacob’s Ladder; he sees the splurt of blood in the wake of Okkotsu-senpai’s katana congeal in mid-air; he sees the monstrous outline of Sukuna temporarily undone, silhouette erased within the beam’s radius.

Yūji blinks. The next thing he sees is swirling black and blue nothing—like when you close your eyes and focus on the dark vacuum on the backs of your eyelids. He looks down, catalogs his bloody and ripped sneakers sinking slightly into ground that’s plush, looks sandy.

Darkness swirls. Yūji sinks. In front of him, Fushiguro has collapsed over his own bent knees. His face is turned into the ground, his fists are balled at the ends of where his arms are stretched out long.

“That’s enough. I’ve had enough.”

The composition of the soul—

Viewed from that angle, their plan had no flaws. Calculate: a curse puppeting a human vessel, theorized soul multiplicity, Yūji’s ability to perceive and target the soul, and the Angel’s technique—then solve for X. If the aforementioned conditions are used as variables, then no matter how you scramble them up, X will solve for a window wherein Yūji is able to bully open a sliver of an entryway into Fushiguro’s soul. And they did—it worked.

They’d one-upped the strongest sorcerer of all; when all was said, done and executed, they had outwitted The King of Curses himself.

However. 

“That’s enough,” says Fushiguro’s collapsed body. “I’ve had enough.”

For a moment, Yūji doesn’t understand what he’s hearing. He feels like he’s being asked to interpret a conversation from underwater—goes back over familiarly shaped words, tries his best to turn over the syllables, to pick them apart and put them back together the way they’re supposed to be. His ears ring faintly.

He stares at the crumpled angles of Fushiguro’s back; a vulnerable spot of his neck peeks up visible where his collar creases awkwardly. He feels simultaneously nothing and like he’s very cold.

Yūji attempts to repeat the words, “I don’t—” but the words lodge in the hollow of his throat. His ribs feel suddenly tight over his heart.

What they’d failed to take into account was the possibility that within Fushiguro Megumi’s soul—any will to live had been extinguished.

Comprehension slams into Yūji like a freight train. He stops breathing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thinks. Blood rushes in his ears, squalls and claps like thunder. He wants to repeat himself—it’s time to wake up, Fushiguro; there’s no time actually, we don’t have time for this, so wake up—but when he tries, his throat closes up and his jaw sticks shut. His mind is racing, his heart inches upwards in his throat.

“Fushiguro—” Yūji croaks, but runs out of words. Fuck, but he’s always been better at doing. He takes a step forward, stretches out a hand.

The blue-black vacuum shudders. The sandy ground quakes.

“No!! Fushig—”

“Scale of the Dragon.”

Yūji blinks. His surroundings once more have shape: the sky is a murky dome, the ground craggy rock. The entirety of the landscape—cut through by thousands, maybe countless katanas. A violent shiver shudders through him, makes him stumble slightly forward. Far up the blade-crowded plains, the blinding light of Jacob’s Ladder has winked out; a bleached sand tempest spirals from its impact site.

Fushiguro is gone.

They failed. Yūji failed.

The pale sand whorl shudders and warps. “Recoil.”

Yūji’s mind draws blank. He understands, somehow primally, that he needs to move. His heart races, slams against his too-tight ribs with meaty thunks. Fushiguro is gone. Against all odds, their plan had worked; Yūji had reached him—and he’d failed.

“—tadori!” cuts a voice—cuts Okkotsu-senpai’s voice, tight with nerves, from somewhere ahead and above. It sounds submerged, hindered; or maybe that’s just him.   

Him—who needs to move. He needs to move now.

“Twin Meteors.”

“Itadori!!”

Yūji snaps both arms up in tight guard on knee-jerk instinct. The first reinforced Cleave slashes across his forehead up into his hairline not a second later. Pain cracks through his skull, blinding and breathtaking. In front of him, Okkotsu-senpai’s matte white uniform splits open, blooming a violent red. Rika shrieks. Okkotsu-senpai sinks to one knee with a pained, bitten off grunt. 

“Okkotsu-senpai!!”

Yūji grinds a heel into the solid underfoot, forces his weight into his knees. Don’t move; focus on defense, says a small, rational part of Yūji. Don’t move in any way that might jeopardise the plan, says an amalgamation of their remaining fighting roster.

Move. Move now; a short sprint and you can make it in time, drag Okkotsu out of danger, says his instincts. Yūji bites his lip raw to keep from swearing. Sweat slicks down the small of his back. He remains still.

The next three hits garrote across his hip, stomach, upper thigh; gouges him clean to the bone. Yūji grinds his teeth until his back molars creak and swallows back bile reflexively. Pain, bright and overwhelming, sparks in his chest. He wills himself to lean into it; feels the pain, but not the shock. He repeats, focus, and breathe, says it over and over again, wearing the words down like an old prayer. He’s already failed an assignment once today. He’s not allowed to contribute to another defeat. All that matters is the plan, the painstaking step-by-step—

The greyscale dome of Yūta’s domain cracks and shatters.

Yūji sees Maki-senpai slip the Split Soul Katana home—the tip ruptures bloody through the stretch of skin supposedly guarding a curse’s heart—before he actually sees Maki-senpai.

Sukuna grunts, freezes. His eyes go wide. Slowly he cranes his neck, gaze abandoning Rika and Okkotsu-senpai to dart over and behind the bulk of his right shoulder. 

The plan. The painstaking, convoluted, step-by-step plan, outfitted with so many failsafes and exceptions it can barely be called a plan at this stage. The plan with its end goal—

Fushiguro. For Yūji, he’s both the beginning and the end. 

Behind him, someone is propelled from high above into the pavement with such brute force that it sends violent tremors shocking through the full expanse of the city block.

Step one is getting the hell out of dodge—clear the way for Maki-senpai. 

He wills himself, as the domain collapses into bleak daylight and a ruined cityscape, to move. He sees Ui Ui swoop in from high above, aiming for where Okkotsu-senpai is cradled in the spindly palms of his shikigami. Neither Chōsō nor Kusakabe should be far off, then. Yūji can tag out for now.

He grits his teeth and steels himself, spins on one heel and takes off in a sprint.

The sudden movement strains the gouges in his thigh and hip taut; what did he expect, really? Pain, furious and overwhelming, lashes up his spine, burrows into the lesions; blacks his vision for a split second. He stumbles, swears. The wound across his forehead dribbles steadily into his eyelashes and along his temple. He scrubs the inside of his wrist irately across his face. Taking quick stock, he traces the pain, sparking like a live wire, to three busted ribs, six lacerations at worst: forehead, forearms, torso, left hip and upper left thigh.

He blinks crusting blood and light-headedness out of his eyes; he hones in on the pain he’s feeling—digs in to use it as a focal point, situates himself inside it. It’s physical, he thinks; just physical, it’s fixable. For me it’s fine. Not like—

It’s time to wake up, Fushiguro!!

Cutting a sharp right corner, sprinting down a narrow, partly collapsed alleyway, Yūji imagines Fushiguro before him: beaten down—defeated; kneeling face down in the blue-black vacuum pit of his soul, the expanse of his shoulders pitching into the not-sand of the ground; the skinny stretch of his back long and limp over folded knees.

It’s enough—I’ve had enough.

Yūji scrubs an angry hand across his eyes. “I’m not giving up on you!”

[unfortunate-arrow]

𝐏𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐜𝐊𝐚𝐝𝐞 | hpma minor character profile

warnings: discussions of death and cancer

✧ IDENTITY ✧

Full Name: Padraig Darragh MacKade 

Nicknames: Paddy, Pads

Name Meanings: Padraig → Irish, “patrician” or “noble” ; Darragh → Irish, “oak tree” ; MacKade → Irish & Scottish, “from the wetlands.” 

Date of Birth: April 16, 2000

Gender: Male ; he/him

Sexuality: Bisexual 

Blood Status: Muggleborn 

Nationality: Irish

✧ APPEARANCE & VOICE ✧

Faceclaim: Levi Miller

Height: 6’0” 

Build: Lean but athletic 

Hair: Brown hair that is generally curly 

Eye Color: Blue 

Scarring & Modifications: As an adult, Paddy gets a small shamrock tattoo on his left bicep 

Style: T-shirts ; jeans ; sneakers ; plaid shirts ; trousers ; sweaters ; sweatpants ; sweatshirts ; football/soccer jerseys 

Voiceclaim: Levi Miller 

Accent: Irish

Dialect: General Irish English

✧ PERSONALITY ✧

MBTI Type: ENFP — the campaigner 

⤷ Campaigners (ENFPs) are true free spirits – outgoing, openhearted, and open-minded. With their lively, upbeat approach to life, they stand out in any crowd. But even though they can be the life of the party, Campaigners don’t just care about having a good time. These personality types run deep – as does their longing for meaningful, emotional connections with other people.

Positive Traits: Curious, perceptive, good-natured, festive, intelligent, kind, hardworking, warm, good people skills, adaptable, flexible, caring

Neutral Traits: Optimistic, stubborn, enthusiastic, spontaneous, charismatic

Negative Traits: Unfocused, disorganized, restless, impatient, overthinker, not big on following the rules

Interests & Hobbies: Hurling, football/soccer, golf, flying, reading, pranks

✧ MAGIC ✧

Wand: Paddy’s wand is made of dogwood with a unicorn tail hair core and is 10 ¼ inches with a slight flexibility. 

⤷ Dogwood wands were quirky and mischievous; they had playful natures and insisted upon partners who could provide them with scope for excitement and fun. It would be quite wrong, however, to deduce from this that dogwood wands were not capable of serious magic when called upon to do so; they had been known to perform outstanding spells under difficult conditions, and when paired with a suitably clever and ingenious witch or wizard, could produce dazzling enchantments. Dogwood wands refused to perform non-verbal spells and they were often rather noisy.

Patronus: German Shepherd 

Boggart: Complete blackness, with no one around him

Riddikulus: The blackness fades into a surprise party, where his brothers are dressed in costume

Amortentia: Paddy smells like bergamot, soap, cinnamon, and peppermint.

✧ HOGWARTS ✧

House: Hufflepuff 

Best Subjects: Charms, astronomy, transfiguration, care of magical creatures

Worst Subjects: Potions, herbology

Extracurriculars: None

✧ EMPLOYMENT ✧

Affiliations: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry ; Gringotts

Profession: Cursebreaker

✧ RELATIONSHIPS ✧

Father: David Padraig MacKade [deceased. 1965-2006]

Paddy has some clear memories of his father, as he was six when David passed away. Those memories are stronger in Paddy’s mind than his memories of his mother, but he misses the man a lot and as much as Paddy adores his big brothers, he wishes that he could turn to his father for things. 

Mother: Clare Siobhan MacKade née O’Brien [deceased, 1967-2004]

Paddy doesn’t have many memories of his mother, as he was only four when she passed away. He wishes that he could have had stronger memories of her and there are a lot of moments where Paddy wishes that he had her to turn to. He really misses her.

Brother: Finnian Joseph “Finn” MacKade

Born on December 30, 1996, Finn is a little over three years older than Paddy. They have a fairly close relationship, although Paddy is closer to Nate and Owen than he is to Finn. They just don’t have a ton in common. However, Paddy loves his big brother a lot. 

Faceclaim: Tom Holland

Brother: Nathaniel Brian “Nate” MacKade 

Born on December 30, 1996, Nate is a little over three years older than Paddy. They have a close relationship, even though it’s not a perfect relationship. Their age gap keeps their arguments from growing too large, although Paddy really wishes that Nate knew when to back off and let Paddy make his own mistakes. Despite these minor arguments, Paddy loves his big brother a lot.

Faceclaim: Tom Holland

Brother: Owen David MacKade 

Born on June 3, 2003, Owen is a little over three years younger than Paddy. They have a close relationship, partially because Finn and Nate are such a duo that Paddy and Owen naturally gravitated towards one another. Paddy really loves his little brother a lot. He and Owen have a decent amount in common and they just get along pretty well. 

Faceclaim: Noah Jupe

Grandmother: Jean Frances MacKade née Hughes

Paddy has a good relationship with his grandmother. He has always had a good relationship with her and he really looks up to. He’s not as aware of how much she does, but as an adult, he really appreciates everything that she’s done for him and his brothers. 

Faceclaim: Julie Andrews

Nephews: Wyatt Hartley MacKade ; Jonah David MacKade ; Ian David MacKade

Nieces: Zoey Vanessa MacKade ; Flora Elspeth MacKade

Sisters-In-Law: Nova Luisa Hartley (@gaygryffindorgal) ; Scotty Rosier (@drinkyoursoupbitch)

Friends: Cooper Everett (@amerrymystery) ; Patrick Hopper-Lee (@thatravenpuffwitch)

Dormmates: Harry Seymour (@endlessly-cursed) ; AVAILABLE ; AVAILABLE ; AVAILABLE

Pets: A labrador retriever named Lady

✧ HISTORY & BACKGROUND ✧

Hometown: Mullingar, County Westmeath, Ireland 

Pre-Hogwarts Childhood: 

Born on April 16, 2000, Padraig Darragh “Paddy” MacKade was the third child of David and Clare MacKade. He joined his older brothers, Finn and Nate, who were three at the time. Three years later, on June 3, 2003, Paddy gained a third brother, Owen David. For four years, Paddy had a good childhood. That all changed when his mother was diagnosed with a cancerous brain tumor. Everything slowly began to change, especially after the tumor became terminal. His mother passed away in late 2004, peacefully in her sleep. His mother’s death rattled the entire family and things changed even more. The biggest change, though, came when Paddy’s father passed away and he and his brothers moved in with their grandmother. Then, came Finn’s and Nate’s Hogwarts letters, shocking everyone. It did explain some of the strangeness that seemed to follow the four MacKade boys. Paddy was quite excited when he received his own Hogwarts letter in 2011. 

Hogwarts Years:

Upon starting Hogwarts, Paddy was sorted into Hufflepuff after sitting under the hat for four and a half minutes, while it debated if Paddy was better suited for Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Paddy was happy to be sorted into Hufflepuff, joining the house where his big brother was. Having Nate there to lean on helped to lessen some of Paddy’s homesickness. Paddy had a good time at Hogwarts, where he got into a surprising amount of trouble and somehow found himself named prefect.

Adulthood:

After graduating from Hogwarts, Paddy became a cursebreaker. It worked with his desire for adventure and thrills, while also helping him get out of scrapes as trouble continued to follow him. He found himself godfather to his eldest nephew, Wyatt, and his youngest nephew, Ian, something that Paddy took very seriously. He loved all of his nieces and nephews. 

Old Age & Death: 

Paddy died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 106.

✧ MISCELLANEOUS ✧

Trivia:

Paddy has a big appetite and is often snacking on something. He does not like to share food, though.

He is the most troublesome MacKade brother, but he’s mostly a trouble magnet and often finds himself getting into scrapes. 

Paddy’s favorite sport is hurling, but football/soccer is his second favorite. He does enjoy watching quidditch, but is not a fan of playing the sport. 

He loves the fact that he is the tallest of the four MacKade brothers and loves to hold it over his brothers.

Important Links:

Paddy’s tag [#paddy mackade]

[jwowwsboobs]

is there any particular outfit piece that ur looking 2 get/is on your wishlist? if so what is ur plan with it & where would u wear it to

the most specific outfit piece ive looked 4 was a leather harley davidson halter top which i found THIS YEAR after abt a year n 1/2 of watching ebay listings n waiting but usually i try not to focus too much on super duper specific items of clothing cuz ill get fixated n do nothing else BUT look 4 it ... most of what i like is just casual clothing, jeans, tank tops n shirts cuz i do literally 3 things: eat, sleep, thrash, repeat. kidding LOL but i really just like being comfy. i do have a couple pieces like my beloved harley top tht i bust out 4 parties n that sorta thing (wore it when i played my last show lol) but other than that ... i am kickin it in my dirty ass sneakers jeans n a tank top LOL !! i always always always keep my eyes peeled 4 things tht remind me of my favorite parts of fashion from the 70s n mid/late 2000s (well like. 2003-12 tbh its not exactly pure mid 2000s cuz of my love 4 jersey shore n their clothes) !! that being said. the top 3 like...pieces im always keeping an eye n an ear 2 the ground (ebay) 4: (read more cuz there r pics <3)

lowrise jeans w fun things on the back pockets / butt, like these super cute jeans from red pepper !!

i love love love the look of big patches on jeans esp in the back i feel like its so playful n fun n a little sexy !! i dont like highrise jeans which totally bums me out cuz most of the flares i find / see r high rise n i exclusively wear flared jeans LOL ... like i said most of my style is pretty casual i am not usually putting in a ton of effort 2 look put 2gether n cute n whatever literally i just throw on jeans n a shirt i got at a show n call it a day but having jeans tht hv exciting details like this get me thru life fr <3 my favorite pair r my flame flares which u cn kind of see in my avi but some better pics r below. i wore out th first pair of them (below) n had 2 make another one but they r literally like. iconic 4 me im almost never not wearing thm. wearing them rn even !

2. vintage band shirts 4 bands tht i cant/wont see in concert ... rn the shirt ive been lusting after is this dope ass etown concrete (BEST JERSEY HARDCORE BAND WILL FIGHT 2 DEATH ON THIS) shirt thats got fuckin mike "the situation" on the back n it says "JERSEY CORE" on the front in the jersey shore font. i am literally so obessed w it u dont get it ... im praying itll still b on ebay in a couple months so i cn get it 4 my bday cuz i am. not prepared 2 drop 124 on a fucking tshirt. yet. but i will. i am not sharing pics cuz i am very paranoid someone will buy it out from under me so i am #gatekeeping. i promise its sick as fuck tho

3. nearly anything thts sort of r bikerish whether tht b theyre vintage or reprinted harley davidson shirts (like my BELOVED "put something exciting between yr legs" tank top) or just from a brand thts demographic is bikers (anjill or not has some CUTE jeans tht im infatuated w!! look at these blinged out jeans like omggggg ... so sad theyre out of the ones w angel wings on the back but honestly idrc im sure theyll come back lol)

4. pretty much anything they were wearing on jersey shore ... ed hardy, rush couture, affliction, yoga pants, furry boots, shirts w obnoxious sayings on them ... great 4 daily life, 4 shows ... rush couture is my fav honestly, i like the tracksuits they hv on their site rn but hvnt bought one yet n honestly probably wont 4 a while from the state of my bank account 😭😭 oopsie! but anyway yeah ed hardys great n all but ppl charge wayyyy too much 4 those jeans n same w affliction its so . ugh !!

5. n speaking of things ppl overcharge 4 ... of course. juicy couture anything !!!!!!! ive been on the hunt 4 an (affordable! please god) hot pink juicy tracksuit like the kind paris had in the 2000s just 2 lay around the house in LOL but im also carefully watching out 4 a daydreamer or just any of their cute bags cuz i love purses but i am pretty picky abt my juicy cuz its SO expensive. kinda hv 2 b tho n its worth it 2 b

thts kind of all i can think of. usually when i pop in the thrifts i look 4 shit like belts or necklaces or rings tht i dig but i cant wear rings or jewelry very much anymore cuz im either 1) at school or work (no jewelry policy <\3) 2) at house parties/shows moshing 3) laying in my bed recovering LMFAO. i also love looking 4 cheap cowboy hats cuz i LOVE a cowboy hat n i usually always end up giving it away 2 someone at a party or a gig LOL currently all out of cowboy hats but im gonna get some in january probably . idk. need 2 save my money LOL !!

[lboogie1906]

Curtis James Jackson III (July 6, 1975) known by his stage name 50 Cent, is a rapper, actor, producer, and entrepreneur. Born in the South Jamaica neighborhood of the borough of Queens, he began selling drugs at age twelve during the 1980s crack epidemic. He began pursuing a musical career and he produced Power of the Dollar for Columbia Records, but days before the planned release he was shot and the album was never released. After he released the compilation album Guess Who’s Back?, he was discovered by Eminem and signed to Shady Records, under the aegis of Dr. Dre’s Aftermath Entertainment and Interscope Records.

He has sold over 30 million albums worldwide and won several awards, including a Grammy Award, thirteen Billboard Music Awards, six World Music Awards, three American Music Awards, and four BET Awards. He has pursued an acting career, appearing in the semi-autobiographical film Get Rich or Die Tryin’ the Iraq War film Home of the Brave, and Righteous Kill. He was ranked the sixth-best artist of the 2000s and the third-best rapper by Billboard. Rolling Stone ranked Get Rich or Die Tryin’ and “In da Club” in its lists of “100 Best Albums of the 2000s” and “100 Best Songs of the 2000s” at #37 and 13 respectively.

He is involved in artist and talent management, record, television, and film production, footwear, apparel, fragrances, liquor, video games, mobile apps, book publishing, and headphones, along with health drinks, and dietary supplements. His broad business and investment portfolio contains investments in a variety of sectors including real estate, financial market investments, mining, boxing promotion, vodka, fragrances, consumer electronics, and fashion.

He established his record label G-Unit Records. He signed a five-year deal with Reebok to distribute a G-Unit Sneakers line for his G-Unit Clothing Company.

He started a book publishing imprint, G-Unit Books. He has written several books including a memoir, From Pieces To Weight; a crime novel, and a book with Robert Greene titled The 50th Law, an urban take on The 48 Laws of Power. In November 2011, he released 50 Cent’s Playground. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[o2toes]

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[urbancultureau]

Urban Wear: The Ultimate Style Guide for the Modern Trendsetter

Urban wear has transcended beyond mere fashion; it is a cultural movement that encapsulates the spirit of modern city life. For those looking to keep up with the latest trends and make a statement, urban wear offers a unique blend of comfort, style, and individuality. At Urban Culture Online, we understand the nuances of urban fashion and are dedicated to bringing you the best in streetwear, athleisure, and edgy urban styles.

The Evolution of Urban Wear

Urban wear originated from the streets, where practicality met with the need for self-expression. Over the decades, it has evolved, influenced by music, art, and the dynamic nature of city life. From the baggy jeans and oversized hoodies of the 90s to today's sleek joggers and statement sneakers, urban wear has always been about pushing boundaries and challenging norms.

Key Elements of Urban Wear

Comfort Meets Style: One of the defining characteristics of urban wear is the seamless blend of comfort and style. Think soft, breathable fabrics that allow for ease of movement, paired with cutting-edge designs that make a bold statement.

Versatile Pieces: Urban wear is all about versatility. Pieces that can transition from day to night, from casual hangouts to more formal settings, are staples in any urban wardrobe. Joggers, graphic tees, and bomber jackets are just a few examples of versatile items that define urban fashion.

Bold Accessories: Accessories play a crucial role in urban wear. From snapback caps and chunky sneakers to layered jewelry and backpacks, the right accessories can elevate a simple outfit to a standout look.

Street-Inspired Graphics and Logos: Urban wear often features bold graphics, logos, and slogans that reflect the culture and attitudes of the streets. These designs are not just eye-catching but also serve as a form of self-expression.

How to Rock Urban Wear

Mix and Match: The beauty of urban wear lies in its flexibility. Mix high-end pieces with more affordable items to create a balanced, stylish look. Pair a designer hoodie with thrifted jeans, or rock a vintage tee with the latest sneakers.

Stay Authentic: Urban fashion is all about authenticity. Wear what makes you feel confident and reflects your personality. Don’t be afraid to experiment with different styles until you find what resonates with you.

Layering is Key: Layering adds depth and interest to your outfit. Combine different textures and lengths to create a dynamic look. A flannel shirt under a bomber jacket or a hoodie under a denim jacket can add a stylish edge to your ensemble.

Focus on Footwear: Shoes can make or break your outfit. Invest in a few key pairs of sneakers that are both comfortable and stylish. Whether you prefer classic white sneakers or bold, colorful kicks, make sure they complement your overall look.

Trends to Watch in Urban Wear

Sustainable Fashion: As awareness around sustainability grows, more brands are incorporating eco-friendly practices into their production. Look for urban wear made from recycled materials or ethically sourced fabrics.

Techwear: Blending fashion with functionality, techwear is becoming a major trend in urban fashion. These pieces often feature water-resistant fabrics, multiple pockets, and a sleek, futuristic aesthetic.

Retro Revival: Nostalgia continues to influence urban wear, with 90s and early 2000s styles making a comeback. From bucket hats to oversized denim, retro pieces are being reimagined for the modern era.

Bold Prints and Patterns: Animal prints, camo, and tie-dye are just a few of the bold patterns making waves in urban fashion. Don’t be afraid to experiment with these eye-catching designs to make a statement.

Conclusion

Urban wear is more than just a fashion statement; it’s a lifestyle. It reflects the vibrant, ever-changing nature of city life and allows individuals to express themselves in unique ways. At Urban Culture Online, we are passionate about urban fashion and are committed to providing you with the latest trends, timeless pieces, and everything in between. Embrace the urban culture and make your mark with style.

[slaysksmska]

The river and the princess

part two

part three

part four

Word count: 2000+

Fxf, lesbian story

hiiiii! this is my first ever fanfic and it’s a lesbian slowburn about the two main characters, Nyla and Nina. It’s set right now when Nina is in grade 6 and Nyla is in grade 7, so there will be NO sexual or inappropriate activity until they are of age. If you like this chapter, check the rest out, on Wattpad.

Summary: When Nina Smith makes the basketball team, along with her bully and ex best friend, Nyla, will she be able to resist her growing attraction for her?

The river and the princess

Chapter one

NINA’S POV:

As I woke up from my old bed sheets, colour now off-white due to wear and tear, I took a glance at the luminescent light coming from the blasting alarm next to me. I groaned in distaste, suddenly realising that I was going to be late for school. I quickly jolted out of my bed and changed into my school clothes, heading to the bathroom to freshen up. I’m not bothered enough to eat breakfast, something I know that my sister, Aleena, will scold me about. I grabbed a piece of toast just for lunch, not wanting to be late, but also not wanting to be under her wrath any longer. I wasn’t going to pay for the overpriced crap they sell at school. As I grabbed my bag and dashed out the door, I prayed I wouldn't miss my bus and was dreading that all the seats might be full because that meant that I would have to sit near Nyla. She’s the bane of my existence, the absolute evil of the world. If you had told me we would’ve ended up like this when I was younger, I would’ve laughed right at your face. Suddenly, I was snapped back to reality by my sister’s annoyed tone,

“Nina, hurry up! We’ll miss the bus!” She snapped before she slammed the front door out of spite.

I rolled my eyes at her tone and headed towards the front door, almost tripping over the laces of my black and white Sketchers sneakers. Still stumbling, I finally reached the front door and opened it slightly to ensure I didn't wake up my baby sister, something my sister, Aleena, should be more aware of. I was greeted by the familiar and comforting faces of my two best friends, May and Zoe. My other best friend, Niyyah, doesn’t go on the bus, since she lives right next door to the school. For some odd reason, I find myself relieved by this fact. She’s been giving off some strange energy and has been quite distant nowadays, and I find myself wondering if I did anything to upset her. Maybe she's just going through something, I hope that’s all. 

As I walked to the bus stop, I felt something—someone, pull me back. It was Nyla and her friend group, which consisted of my sister, Aleena, and three others named Samara, Maria, and Noreen. Nyla’s the leader of the friend group, but they’re all equally mean. I never understood why my sister said nothing about how they treated me.

“If you’re going to walk that slowly, then get out of the fucking way”, she spat at me, rudely, as she pushed me to the grass on the left of the sidewalk

Thankfully, I had a soft landing on the lush grass, covered in the slight mildew from the morning rain. As they walked away laughing at some stupid joke she made about me, I saw my sister turn around and mouth an apology at me, a look of guilt flashed upon her face. I don’t know why she doesn’t find new friends or stand up to them. She claims that she cares about me, but she lets them make fun of me every day. Of course, I try to stand up for myself, but Nyla always shuts me down. She just knows exactly what to say to annoy me, which makes me do something irrational and immature. I hate how she knows me so well and can read my emotions like a book. I don’t know how it all came to this, we used to be so close but Nyla had to go and ruin it all. 

*FLASHBACK TO KINDERGARTEN* 

Nina played not so gracefully in the sand, not caring if her clothes got dirty, after all, she was just a little girl, at the peak of her innocence. Not a care in the world, she was happy, having the time of her life with her best friend, Nyla. The two played together for what seemed like forever and they were inseparable. You could always find them together, whether it be during class, playing on the seesaw, or making sandcastles in the sandbox, it was guaranteed that where you could find one, you’d find the other. 

As Nina added the final details to the sandcastle, she suddenly saw a giant foot crush through it, hitting the middle which caused it to fall apart. She looked up and saw the new girl, Aliyah, standing over the broken sandcastle with a victorious smirk. She shamelessly flipped her brown hair over her shoulder as she laughed. She was angrily pushed to the ground before she could utter a single word. When Nina glanced over to the culprit, she spotted a fuming Nyla with her fists clenched as she crossed her arms. Aliyah sprung up from the sandpit and jumped on Nyla, hitting her square in the face with a decent punch. Nyla brushed the sand off her face with ease as she sent an equally, if not, stronger punch in Aliyah’s direction while Nina watched in horror. Nina hastily got up to her feet hoping she could do something but unfortunately, she was a second too late as Nyla delivered a powerful blow to Aliyah’s stomach, knocking her down and soon enough, the teacher caught wind of the ongoing fight and rushed, over putting a stop to it all. Nyla was taken away by the teachers back inside and punished accordingly, just like Aliyah, for her actions. 

Nina was worried sick all recess for her best friend Nyla. She was practically biting her nails off as Nyla came in through the door. The class fell silent as Aliyah and Nyla made their way to their seats. Aliyah was bawling her eyes out and Nina took a wild guess on why she was crying as she glanced down at her slightly bloodied knees. Nina quickly rushed over to her best friend's seat by the other Senior Kindergarteners. Nina was on the verge of tears as she was extremely worried for the sake of her best friend.

“Why did you do that, Nyla? Now you’ve gotten in trouble.” Nina yelled at Nyla.

“You don’t get it, she was being mean and had no right to do that! You worked hard on building that.” Nyla responded timidly, trying to hide her anger and distaste for Aliyah.

“Worked hard? It’s just a sandcastle, I could’ve just rebuilt it, now look what you’ve done!” Nina was seeing red and trying her best to be level-headed with the girl.

“It doesn’t matter! She can’t disrespect you like that, I won’t let her! Nobody gets to bully you and if they try to, I’m going to stand up for you, since you’re too shy to do it yourself.” Nyla said, suddenly bursting out with emotion as she stood up and walked away, leaving Nina confused and alone.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

As I became aware of my surroundings, realising that I was still outside with my friends who were beside me in a flash, I wondered how long I was on the ground as Zoe helped me up. I heard May mutter something about how stupid and ignorant they were while Zoe was glaring at them. I thought to myself about how ironic it is that she said she’d always protect me from bullies but now she’s one, while rolling my eyes. 

“You can’t just let them walk all over you like that! You need to stand up for yourself!” May said, clearly agitated. 

Zoe nodded beside her, arms crossed with a stern look. I was quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond. Then I answered her with a shy and unsure response.

“I don’t know, I just can’t! Every time I say something, they always find ways to twist my words and make fun of me even more. It’s better just not to provoke her, you know how popular she is, if she wanted to, she could make my school life a living hell! So, I just stay quiet and hope she becomes bored of me and finds someone new to harass.” I said as I shrugged my shoulder and sighed tiredly

“Well, that needs to change, right now!” Zoe yelled.

My eyes widened in shock, as I looked towards May, who also had the same expression, not expecting Zoe of all people, to burst out like that. We were all quiet, too stunned to speak until May pointed out that we passed the bus stop and had to go back. All of the other kids were already lined up, so we were at the end of the line and would end up with the worst seats. The ones next to the driver. They always make awkward small talk and share brief eye contact with you. 

The giant, yellow bus doors opened abruptly and we started piling up into the bus. About 30 seconds later, we got in. May, Zoe, and I looked for any empty seats but were met with dozens, upon dozens of rows, all full. There was only one empty two-seater towards the middle as well as a one-seater in the back so we all rushed to the two-seater. We were skinny and could easily fit, even though it would be a tight squeeze. As we sat down, the bus driver made eye contact with me and started scolding me for the dangerous behaviour of running in the bus.

“Also, two seats are made for two people! It’s in the name! Girl in the blue sweater and black jeans, move to the back!” The grumpy, middle-aged woman yelled at me.

I’m not sure if it was because I was the one in the aisle and it would be easier for me out of all of us to move there, or if it was because she wanted to spite me. Either way, it annoyed me. I carried my heavy bag to the back and a feeling of dread sat low in my stomach. The older kids always sat at the back of the bus, which meant I’d sit in front of Nyla and her friends. Just as I thought I’d escaped her, she was right back in my face again.

As I went to sit down, although it was not a far walk, one of her friends, Maria, thought it would be funny to put her foot out in the aisle and tripped me. Luckily, I didn’t fall but instead stumbled over my own feet as I regained my balance and sat down. My cheeks were probably a faint red from embarrassment. I noticed giggles behind me while I felt somebody grab my hair and pull it hard before I could even react. The whole backseat erupted in laughter. I felt so humiliated as I stole a glance at May who looked at me with pity. The rest of the bus ride went by so slowly that I kept hearing them ridicule me for my choice of clothes. I was mad. Mad at Nyla, mad at her friends, mad at the bus driver, and more importantly mad at Aleena. Why did she never defend me and always let her friends bully me?!

“Guys, guys, guess what?! Eshaan asked me out, yesterday!” A familiar voice said

“Oh my god, Nyla! You’re so lucky, he’s so fucking hot!” Noreen said.

“Exactly! Like every girl in our school wants him!” Samara added

Ew. I’ve never understood the hype, I thought to myself, still embarrassed. Boys are cute but I never would’ve imagined myself with one. As we entered the front of the school, we all boarded off and headed through the doors. Finally, hell is over. I caught up with my friends and told them all of the gossip I heard from the girls behind me. May and Zoe felt super bad for me, but I’ve gotten used to it. Now we’d have to find Niyyah and meet up with her.

[dan6085]

Here are the top 20 Nike sponsorship deals with details on the amount and number of years:

1. Michael Jordan and Nike: $1.3 billion [1][2]

- Michael Jordan signed a lifetime deal with Nike, earning over $1.3 billion from the partnership.

2. Cristiano Ronaldo and Nike: $1 billion [2]

- Cristiano Ronaldo signed a $1 billion lifetime contract with Nike in 2016.

3. LeBron James and Nike: $1 billion [2][3]

- LeBron James also signed a lifetime deal with Nike, worth $1 billion.

4. Rory McIlroy and Nike: $25 million/year [3]

- Rory McIlroy signed a 10-year, $200 million deal with Nike in 2017.

5. Tiger Woods and Nike: $105 million [2][3]

- Tiger Woods signed a $105 million, 5-year contract with Nike in 2000.

6. Kobe Bryant and Nike: $40 million (5 years, $8 million/year) [3][4]

- Kobe Bryant had a 5-year, $40 million contract with Nike.

7. Kevin Durant and Nike: $8.5 million/year (7 years) [3][4]

- Kevin Durant signed a 7-year, $59.5 million deal with Nike.

8. Maria Sharapova and Nike: Unknown [4]

- Maria Sharapova is the only female athlete on this list, but the details of her Nike deal are not provided.

9. Derrick Rose and Adidas: $185 million (14 years) [2]

- Derrick Rose signed a 14-year, $185 million deal with Adidas in 2011.

10. David Beckham and Adidas: $160.8 million (Lifetime) [2]

- David Beckham signed a lifetime deal with Adidas worth $160.8 million.

11. Steph Curry and Under Armour: $215 million [2]

- Steph Curry signed a $215 million deal with Under Armour in 2013.

12. Neymar and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Neymar's Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

13. Serena Williams and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Serena Williams' Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

14. Roger Federer and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Roger Federer's Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

15. Rafael Nadal and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Rafael Nadal's Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

16. Kyrie Irving and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Kyrie Irving's Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

17. Odell Beckham Jr. and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Odell Beckham Jr.'s Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

18. Megan Rapinoe and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Megan Rapinoe's Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

19. Naomi Osaka and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Naomi Osaka's Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

20. Simone Biles and Nike: Unknown

- Details on Simone Biles' Nike sponsorship deal are not provided.

Sources

[1] The 50 Best Nikes of All Time - Complex https://www.complex.com/sneakers/a/riley-jones/best-nike-shoes-of-all-time

[2] Top 10 biggest sports sponsorship deals in history | Pitch https://www.pitch.co.uk/news/the-top-10-biggest-sports-sponsorship-deals-in-history/

[3] Top 10 Most Expensive Nike Shoes Endorsements in 2024: From Kobe ... https://financesonline.com/top-10-most-expensive-nike-shoes-endorsements-from-kobe-bryant-to-tiger-woods/

[4] Nike's Largest Athlete Endorsement Deals - HotNewHipHop https://www.hotnewhiphop.com/646142-nikes-largest-athlete-endorsement-deals

[5] Nike Sneaker Timeline - History of Nike - Fat Buddha Store https://www.fatbuddhastore.com/nike-sneaker-history-i195

[shoppingadviser-blog]

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[hotnessfeet]

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