#driving home from work and

[gammasquad]

I may be only one season into Suits, but that’s all i need to start drawing some marvey

[raziraphale]

Tag your age if you wanna bc I was just thinking about how I have used floppy disks before (I'm 25 and used them in elementary computer lab) but my 22 y.o. brother hasn't which is so weird to me like 3 years isn't a long time at all to me

[expelliarmus]

[lukecastellanshandholder]

Has anyone ever mentioned how ironic it is that Nico, the first demigod character to be confirmed gay in cannon and, the one who came from a time period when, "if you're gay, you're going to hell!" was a popular catchphrase especially where he was born; has literally gone to hell twice??

And that he's literally the son of Hades, the god of the underworld. Where the Greek equivalent of hell, is?

Like, I'm not trying to say that Rick did this on purpose or did it with any ill intentions, but God damn! The irony is strong 😅

[il-predestinato]

SkySports: “Max can’t do that!”

SkySports, 10 min later: “Nevermind, the rules say he can definitely do that.”

[usachxxn]

Monkey trouble 🐒

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

Dad!Nanami taking his baby daughter with him on his morning runs 🥺🥺 you just see the most attractive dilf running through the neighborhood with the cutest little thing in the stroller he’s pushing, all wrapped up and warm from the morning breeze.

[sunlight-ships]

yknow when

[galadae]

they do this all the time, it's fine

[apelcini]

there is a hollowness inside of rich kids that truly terrifies me.

[yooils]

lightweight . drunk!isagi x reader. fluff. accidental proposal. short blurb + extremely forced plot.

— ISAGI YOICHI is a lightweight.

it’s a truth acknowledged by everyone close with him, really, with the way he begins his flowery proses after a drink or two– followed by a gradual descent to an emotional wreck; usually accompanied with an abundance of impulsive decisions and a self depreciating monologue of his life.

but in spite of that, he knows how to handle himself 90% of the time. (the remaining 10% is left unmentioned by all, regardless of the copious amounts of black-mail material some of his teammates possess.)

so naturally, the first time you see yoichi have an emotional breakdown in public is during a team get-together! he’s half on his knees with an abnormally flushed complexion; his eyes are starting to water from the reverie he’s found himself in, and his throat is constricted with hiccups. you've been so-called paged by his colleagues– only to find that the emergency they had mentioned afore to be your drunk boyfriend.

“i just want you to know that i love you.” is the first thing that comes out of isagi's mouth when he catches sight of you entering the bar his team had booked for the night.

the collective wolf whistles from his teammates would have portrayed the unfolding scene to be akin to an extremely romantic (read: corny) scene of a movie, if it wasn't for the uncharacteristically delirious look in your boyfriend’s eyes.

“my affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this. i just want you to know that i’m pregnant, and you’re the baby. will you marry me?”

(a few feet away, rin spits out his drink, outraged at the sheer blasphemy of one of his favourite books and movies. nagi's recording next to him, half-asleep yet still giggling at his friend's drunken antics.)

you love yoichi too, you really do– but you have to run through the list of things you love about him just to keep yourself from strangling him to the brink of unconsciousness so he stops talking.

– he's cute. he's only a little bit annoying sometimes. he does the laundry properly. he just confessed that he loved you amidst his drunken stupor even though you've never said it to each other directly before in person– and then proposed to you. and he's hot.

finally forfeiting to his boyish, drunken charms (and having had enough public humiliation for today), you find yourself and your extremely drunk boyfriend in the middle of the parking lot; with you holding him by his coat so he doesn’t escape, and him squirming around with airy sounds of discomfort which you had opted to ignore.

isagi’s leaning in close, breath reeking of alcohol and hands fumbling with his seatbelt clumsily.

“psst.. don’t tell anyone, but i’m gonna marry you one day.”

the pause in the car is deafening.

you furrow your eyebrows. he obliviously leans his cheek against the car window, unbothered by the sheer weight that his words had carried.

“wait, you don’t want other people to find out that you’re going to propose to me, so you tell the person you’re actually proposing to?”

his drunk gasp speaks volumes to you. “oh no, did i say that out loud? am i being kidnapped? where am i? is the world finally ending? but i still haven’t told (name) that i loved them…”

(okay, maybe he’s a little more stupid when he’s drunk, but you’ve grown to become a believer in the concept that drunken words are sober thoughts in the last hour. you hope.)

isagi’s eyes melt into something akin pools of sapphire stones under the lamppost-lit light. it’s been your favourite colour from the moment you met him.

“yoichi, why are you sniffing me?”

you amusedly ask, finding minor entertainment in his actions.

he’s half slumped on you by the time you stop the car by his apartment– and you realise that there’s no way of getting out of your vehicle without damaging 1.) your spine 2.) your arms and 3.) his dignity. (which really is already ruined, objectively, from the amount of second-hand embarrassment you’ve faced tonight.

“don’t wanna leave you.. smells like home..” he almost-incoherently mumbles, and you impulsively have half a mind to keep him forever-intoxicated because of how cute, despite tedious he’s become.

as a relatively simple man, isagi has always been subjected to a desire for more; especially when it came to football.

(but you, he thinks, will always be more than enough for him. and he hopes he’s enough for you too, even in his drunken haze, because he doesn’t want to let you out of his grasps for even a second).

the way you stroke his hair has his mind collapsing into a puddle of melted goo even in the air-conditioned car. you’ve rewritten his brain chemistry to make yourself the only pearl in his universe composed of mostly football, and in every life, he would let you break his heart over and over again.

once you realise that he's stopped his drunken ramblings and fumbling, the panic finally kicks in.

"yoichi, are you sleeping? we're still in the car park! i can't get out with you laid on me!"

(the next morning, he apologises after a much needed hangover pill and a reminder of what happened last night, sent to him in the form of a video by nagi.

you don't tell him that you've already seen the ring in his sock drawer.)

8.12.23

[corrodedcoughin]

Pre-relationship Steddie exchanging mix tapes for each other with pining, lovesick songs over and over again on each side. Handing them over to each other with hopes the other person will Pick Up On The Messages.

Eddie having corroded coffin over that night as a distraction from thinking about Steve listening to The Tape. It’s a pretty normal night except Eddie is crouching on the couch biting his nails and hissing, so actually yeah it’s a normal night. But the guys can tell something is up so Gareth and Jeff start rifling through Eddie’s tapes, hoping that some music will chill him out or get him hyped or just anything that isn’t what he’s doing right now. Ian is sitting by him and trying to start a conversation but it’s a fool’s errand.

So the tape goes in and the music starts and it feels like maybe Eddie will relax. But as the first song goes into the second he freezes. Stares wide eyed. Shushes everyone. Demands gareth skip to the next song, then the next. Oh no. Oh no.

Eddie grabs Jeff by the arm ‘Jeff. Dude. Please. Please tell me what’s written on the tape you put on’ wide eyed and unblinking.

‘Uh I don’t know man. Gareth get the tape out, yeah?’ Jeff asks with a blatantly confused face. And of course Gareth acquiesces, deciding not to escalate the situation for once in his life which Eddie is very grateful for.

And the tape? The tape is the Steve tape. The one Steve was supposed to have. Which is fine. Absolutely fine! It’s okay! Eddie can explain this away. He can, he’ll get his one back and it’ll be fine. Whatever is on the casette steve has can’t be that bad, it just can’t be.

——

The next day Eddie goes to family video. Plays it cool, hopes to earn a smile out of Steve. Maybe a laugh if he’s lucky. Only Steve’s kind of jumpy? Normally he gives a wave and a wink that he’s Eddie struggling to stay upright. This time? This time he’s struggling to make eye contact and blushing? Weird. Maybe he’s sick. Eddie should make him soup.

‘Hey Steve. Stevie. Stev-o’ he’s at the counter now, tapping on it trying to hide his nerves. And Steve is smiling at him, properly smiling, this is nice. Steve should always be smiling.

‘I listened to the tape’ Steve says with a bashful giggle and Eddie loves the way it sounds falling from Steve’s lips. With new found courage eddie continues ‘Actually, about that…any chance I could have my casette back? I want to give it to Gareth.’ Eddie spent far too long on his perfect Steve mix, he will not let it go unheard. If he has to lie to get The Mix To Win Steve in that boys beautiful hands by god he will.

‘Gareth?!’ Steve’s smile drops instantly. Mood souring and expression turning hurt, almost bitchy ‘yeah sure, whatever. Thought we were making tapes for each other but whatever’

Confused by the sudden change Eddie carries on carefully ‘oh yeah, but I gave you the wrong one. That was for Gareth. For all of the guys actually. This one’ Eddie fishes the casette out of his pocket ‘this one is for you’ and slides it across the counter.

‘For…for all of them? You want to give that tape to all of the guys?’ Steve only looks more confused

‘Yeah man, why wouldn’t I? They are my guys!’ Eddie continues, trying to dispel this weird atmosphere. Before he can go any further Robin calls Steve into the store room, something about a stacking tower emergency and Steve is off, a dejected wave thrown at Eddie as Eddie walks out the door.

Weird. Very weird.

Nonetheless eddie hops into his van ready to drive home and start the process of Worrying About What Steve Will Think all over again. Curiosity gets the better of him though and he sticks the mistake casette into the player of the van, expecting a normal metal guitar riff to play out. What he gets? Is far, far worse

Trumpets.

Snare drums.

Oh

Oh no

Oh god

Then the signing starts. And Eddie knows. Eddie fucking knows that this tape only has one song on it. Repeated. On both sides. Over and over again. And Steve thinks. Oh Jesus what does Steve think. What DID Steve think? Eddie pulls over and sinks his head into the steering wheel until the horn drowns out the music of Monty python.

🎶 Sit on my face and tell me that you love me

I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you, too

I love to hear you oralize

When I'm between your thighs

You blow me away

Sit on my face and let my lips embrace you

I'll sit on your face and then I'll love you truly

Life can be fine if we both sixty-nine

If we sit on our faces in all sorts of places

And play, 'til we're blown away 🎶

[swaps55]

Dark Star

Ao3

Unlike most of the soirees Garrus has been to lately, the food is actually good. The Citadel’s superior supply lines aside, maybe it’s a good sign that all the times he’s stuffed himself into dress robes to put on a show for diplomats and, as Shepard likes to describe it, ‘bludgeon his way through bureaucracy,’ is actually accomplishing something.

Some days, putting a galaxy back together feels a lot harder than saving it in the first place.

Tonight’s party, thrown by the volus as a welcome mat for what is sure to be three days of grueling negotiations over how to prioritize who gets the new – and extremely limited – soil reclamation technology developed by the salarians, is actually more tolerable than most, if only for the company. The humans tapped Shepard to be the figurehead of their delegation. When Garrus asked him about humanity’s position on who deserved the higher share of devices fine-tuned to isolate and neutralize contaminants left behind by reaper corpses, he’d just laughed.

“Did you even know what this whole conference was about?” Garrus asks, handing him a fresh whiskey and Alenko a beer. The key to these events is to hit the bar hard and fast while the stocks hold out, and right now there is a lot of turian brandy. He’s not getting enough credit for juggling three drinks through a crowd without an incident.

“I think Ambassador Cartwright was trying to explain it to me, but I wasn’t paying attention,” Shepard replies, taking a sip of his drink. The band is loud – most everything at these receptions are a little over the top, as if they can force the galaxy back together if they’re cheerful enough – but the elcor singing backup vocals is surprisingly good.

Alenko snorts, but before he can elaborate on his disdain, another uniformed human puts a hand on Shepard’s arm and asks to speak with him about the keynote address he’s supposed to give in the morning and probably plans to make up as he goes.

Shepard gives Alenko a save me look before allowing himself to be towed to a quieter corner of the Silver Coast Casino, which doesn’t really exist.

“He wasn’t listening because he was thinking about all the ways he could incapacitate the guy,” Alenko says, never one to let a good dig go, even if the recipient is no longer within ear shot.

“Of course he was,” Garrus replies, tugging on his sleeve. He’s not sold the yellow stripes were a good choice, here. “That’s why I’ve learned not to stand near windows around him.”

A puzzled look passes briefly across Alenko’s face before he laughs it off. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Garrus flicks a mandible. Jack had brought up Shepard’s one-size-fits-all tactic of booting uncooperative mercs out skyscraper windows every chance she got on the Normandy. It hadn’t exactly been funny at the time, but then again, nothing was, and when there’s nothing good to laugh at you stretch the boundaries of what’s funny until something qualifies. Dark, maybe, but it had been a running joke for so long it had just become part of Shepard’s zeitgeist. Sure Alenko hadn’t been there, but it’s hard to believe that no one had told him that particular story. Especially Shepard. They talked about everything. As Shepard liked to confess, repeatedly and insistently, when he was drunk.

Hm.

Read the rest on Ao3

[crispy-bonnie]

so i was scrolling through warren kole's instagram and

HELLO ??

HELP ?????

[5ummit]

A Fedaykin is a fighter and needs a war name. You must choose. How do you call the small desert mouse again? Muad’Dib? That is a powerful name.

[figofswords]

the post grad why did i get an art degree what am i even doing what do i want in life where am i going crisis has finally hit i want to. lie down in the dirt. or something