#fuck mako mart

[frozen-yogurt-proto]

Mako mart is my favorite splatoon map :)

[munchboxart]

Clips of the LoZ Splatfest Tricolor map are out and there's this one specific clip that shows Crab's reach and it's so funny

I am gonna turn your fucking triangle into a 3 minute boss rush boxing arena. It's what Ganon would have wanted

[ubersaw]

@tuproe aughhh aughhh beasts in this fucking mako mart (ft my guy barracuda i jsut thought it was funny they have similar colors. hes not shaded because im lazy

full of tup:

[furby-yeehaw]

I fucking LOVE Mako Mart

[aethershroud]

Okay so I wanted to make a light-hearted parody of the "Shiver gets Top Surgery" headcanons and comics that Twitter likes to partake in, right? Like it was just Frye and Big Man in Mako Mart and Frye's all like "Oh hey Shiver! How did your top sugery go?"

And Shiver...Shiver just...

"I feel GREAT."

...Yeah that joke would get me fucking crucified on Twitter. Hence why I've never posted it. Until now, I guess.

[starfalltanuki]

I honestly didn't think I could dislike a map as much as I fucking hate Undertow Spillway.

Like for as much as people shit on it (and for understandable reasons) at least SOME of the modes on Moray Towers were fun. Undertow Spillway is nothing but agony and corners no matter what mode you're playing it on (Splat Zones Spillway is the fucking worst though no I do not take constructive criticism).

It's like Mako Mart but Worse In Every Conceivable Way because Mako Mart is a place of unhinged joy while Undertow Spillway is the map you play on to die inside because there is no god only suffering in this colorless metal hell where your only hope of release is a KO or disconnect.

[giomagnetism]

for the fanfic one!!! :)))

"Were you dropped as a child? Thrown, perhaps?"

"I fuckin' told you, I can't wear anything tight at the cuffs." Marlo tossed their hand at Phee dismissively and turned their back in the same motion, hardly bothering to give zir proffered pair of trousers a second glance. Fitted, and well at that, in Adonis' humble opinion. "It's like that big damn scar on your shoulders: but I ought've guessed, you like to cause me pain."

Phee made an frustrated noise, equally polite. "It is that you were dropped as a little one? Or perhaps, it is thrown?" — but turned on zir heel and strode into the storeroom.

Adonis glanced back from the empty door frame and to his sister. Absently, Marlo had rested a hand on the spear of their hairpin, letting their fingers trail over and twist the takoyaki-shaped ornament. He'd never seen it before; he hadn't seen them tie up their tentacles in years.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Marlo bit out.

"What the hell is your problem?" Adonis matched their tone evenly. "I don't understand why it is you insist on keeping this one around. There are a dozen different—fluent—tailors I could find for you." Though misery did love company: Marlo was never one to get it right the first time, either.

They glared up at him, sidelong, firmly on their good side. "I only have one at all because you insist."

"If you had your way, you would be buying off Mako Mart's shelves," Adonis answered, derisive.

"Fuck off." Marlo abruptly pinched their fingers against the hairpin and dropped their gaze to the worn wood floor. "I happen to think Phee could use the business."

"Ah, yeah. Remind me: how did you learn of this minuscule one-man craftshop half a mile out of town?"

Marlo ground their teeth, but the click of the storeroom door closing beat them to their retort. Phee stepped toward them both, pink brows creased and zir asymmetrical tentacles—just the one, actually—writhing on over itself, but with a new pair of slacks draped over zir forearm.

"This one you will have instead, during the meantime." Phee handed them off: olive green, and flared at the hem. "I have not had to trim it yet, so you will need to wear tall boots."

Marlo twisted their hairpin once more and muttered something in response, and something Adonis dimly recognized to be Octarian. They braced one hand on a side-table, gripped Phee's chin with the other, both pulling zir down and leaning in on their tiptoes to plant a kiss on zir cheek.

Adonis kept his face carefully blank.

He couldn't disagree with their taste in women, even if ze was a decade older than Marlo.

Phee was quicker to shove them off, with zir tentacle and hand against their bicep, but Marlo held there: held the gaze of this obscure seamstress they just so happened to know, an Octoling, whose left eye was stained milky blue, who treated everything Marlo asked for like a personal challenge.

Interesting. That's all.

Marlo said something else, and let zir go.

Phee only sighed, and worked zir mouth, with a glare set firmly on the back of Marlo's head as they took back their place at his side. "Pay will be later. And that," — a jab of zir tentacle toward his sister — "You make sure stays on their feet," ze told him, brusquely.

"Well, no guarantees." Adonis grinned. "Ma was too nice to ever drop her, but she did fall down a cliff a few times."

(With the door shut behind them and the brisk winter wind in their faces, he has to ask, "Are you trying to get your heart broken?"

Marlo laughs. He hasn't heard that in weeks. "Darling, you don't know the half of it.")

[splatoon-majesty]

Stages from Splatoon 1 I’d like to return:

Mahi-Mahi GIVE ME MY RESORT BACK

E V E R Y S T A G E N O T I N 2

Stages from Splatoon 2 I’d like to return:

Musselforge Fitness my beloved

Humpback Pumptrack my other beloved

Sturgeon Shipyard. Look, I hate this map, despise it to my core, but my friends love it and it makes them laugh, feel empowered, and smile so I demand it comes back. I treasure nothing more in Splatoon than the good times they’ve given me.

Mako Mart… so many good times had there

Stages that can take a long walk off a short pier:

Goby Arena, it always forces me back to playing backliner even when I’m not in the mood

Snapper Canal. I just can’t handle the blandness of it. It feels like they took Bluefin Depot, and baby-fied it.

Starfish Mainstage is a place I cannot get into a rhythm on with that layout. I love the atmosphere, hate how it plays.

And I hope the splat 1 stages that were in 2 don’t come to 3 but ESPECIALLY Kelp Dome. That stage can go fuck itself it’s boring, it’s been boring for six years.

[junkercrush]

junkrat x gender neutral reader being dipshits with fireworks? just going absolutely bonkers and almost setting themselves on fire

Who said we can’t have a Fourth of July story during the holiday season? 

It’s about time I wrote this one up. Here’s “Fireworks”

“Fireworks” 

SFW

Pairing: Junkrat/Gender Neutral Reader

Words: 1,210

                                                      *~*~*

“Hey Rat, what happened to the baby blue whale when it became an adult?”

“Wha?”

“It blew up!”

You and Junkrat burst out laughing for the millionth time in the backseat. Junkrat was so tickled he held his stomach, tears streaming down his soot-covered face.

If people saw you two right now, they would’ve thought you were high. Ya’ll were just giddy. It was the Fourth of July, you and Rat chowed down on a bunch of tacos.

Roadhog didn’t mind the taco wrappers and bags scattered all over the car. Besides, it was stolen from a car dealership not too long ago.

“Hey!” Hog boomed. “You have another burrito left back there? I’m still hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, mate.” Rat giggled as he passed a freshly wrapped burrito to Hog. The giant man wolfed it down in two big bites.

“Damn, we should’ve bought more.” Hog groaned.

“You can always get more after we grab the fireworks.” You suggested.

Hog grunted with approval. “I like that.”

Junkrat was so excited he was shaking his fists. He was ready to blow up the sky.

Mako dropped you and Rat off in front of a Wal-Mart. Rat was already receiving stares from customers. He looked like he stepped out of a destroyed fireworks factory. His hair was sizzling, and his clothes badly burnt.

An elderly woman grimaced at Junkrat’s scent and pinched her nose with pure disgust. You’re used to Rat’s smell by now.

“You got ten minutes,” Mako said. “Make it quick, no bullshit.”

You already knew it was going to take longer than ten minutes. You just knew.

“Right!” You and Rat exclaimed. Mako tossed a large wad of $100 bills into your hands. It was the right amount for all the fireworks Junkrat was going to load.

“MINE!” Junkrat swiped the money from your hands and dashed inside.

“Fuck.” You sighed and ran after him into the store. You heard Hog chuckling behind you as he drove away to a close parking spot.

Junkrat was already dropping fireworks into a shopping cart. “Mine, mine, mine! It’s all mine!” He yelled.

“Look, Daddy, that dirty man is getting lots of fireworks!” A cute, curly-haired girl pointed out.

“Sweetie, don’t stare at him.” The father said. He took his small child away from you and your maniac.

You placed a hand on Junkrat’s shoulder. He stopped. “That’s enough,” You laughed. “We’re stacked.

“Let’s blow them up!” Junkrat lit a match.

One man noticed Junkrat’s light. “Oh shit!” He screamed and ran away. You immediately snuffed out the match.

“Wait, Rat, goddammit!” You couldn’t help but laugh. Junkrat laughed along with you. “Give me the money. I’ll pay for it. You go back to Hog, got it?”

Junkrat sneered. “Sure.”

You watched him as he hobbled his way out of the store and headed to the self check-out aisle.

“I saw him. He was ‘bout to blow up the whole store!”

You turned one corner and saw the frightened man from earlier talking to a Wal-Mart employee. Both glared at you. Yeah, it was time to go.

You paced out of the store and found Hog leaning against the car.

“Where’s Rat?” He asked. You froze.

“I thought he came to the car.” You said. Roadhog shook his head. Shoot!

You passed Hog your shopping cart and raced back into the store. You tried dialing him with your phone. No response.

Did he return for more fireworks? Nope, he wasn’t in any of the aisles. Perhaps he went to the electronics section.

Before you made a run to the looming displays of gadgets and gizmos, you found Junkrat wandering down the breakfast aisle. He opened a box of pop-tarts and started eating out of it.

“Junkrat,” You shouted, making the man yelp and drop his box. “The hell are you doing?”

“Eating. What does it look like, mate?” He replied.

Junkrat picked up a carton of almond milk. “You know, Hog said he wanted some of this nut juice. Said regular ol’ milk made his big belly feel funny.”

Suddenly, Rat placed a palm over his head. “Whoa, I’m feeling a bit funny myself. Time to get some meds!” He stumbled a bit and bumped into a huge cereal display, knocking the colossal monument over.

“Whoops!” Rat said.

“Junkrat!” You cried.

Too late, the Aussie ran off again. For someone with a peg leg, he was a fast one. You chased after him and found him in the medicine aisle. He already had a few medications stuffed in his shorts.

“Oooh, look at this.” He pulled out a box of Magnum XXL condoms from the shelf. He wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“The heck are you going to do with those?” You asked, blood rushing to your cheeks.

Junkrat stepped closer to you. “What do you think, love?”

“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat. A manager stepped into the aisle. His name tag: “Buck.”

“What the hell do you want?” Junkrat barked.

“You gotta pay for those, sir.” Buck pointed at the medicine bulging out of Junkrat’s shorts.

Junkrat whipped out a firework and lit it in front of the manager.

“No!” You yelped.

“Pay for this!” Junkrat shouted. The firework shot right into Buck’s direction. Buck ducked just in time.

“Security!” He shouted.

“Shit, Rat!” You hissed. You grabbed Junkrat’s prosthetic hand and dragged him out of the Wal-Mart. Roadhog was still waiting.

“That was 25 minutes. I said ten.” He growled.

You pinched Junkrat’s flesh arm out of mild annoyance.

“Ow!” Junkrat yelped.

“This fella over here shot a firework at the manager.” You said.

“He was bothering me,” Junkrat whined. “I wanted some balloons.”

Your mind flashed back minutes ago when Junkrat was showing off the box of condoms to you. Shit, he didn’t know the difference. You decided to keep quiet.

Junkrat gave Hog the almond milk he stuffed in his shorts. “Got ya some nut milk, mate!”

Police sirens wailed in the distance.

“And the cops are coming.” Hog groaned. “In the car. NOW!”

You and Junkrat raced to the backseat. One police car already made it to the Wal-Mart parking lot.

“Oooh, the cops!” Junkrat giggled. “Let’s say hello!”

“Let’s not.” You replied.

Roadhog finally started the car and zoomed out of the area.

“That was fun! I love the Fourth of July!” Junkrat said, hopping in his seat. He turned to you. “Can I blow up just one now? Please?”

“No!” You snapped. Junkrat whimpered.

“Let the damn rat light one.” Hog moaned.

“Fine, fine.” You sighed. You gave Junkrat one firework, and he shot it out of the car window. “Better now?”

Junkrat nodded and passed a firework to you. “C’mon, give it a light.”

You shot a firework out of the window. It burst into sparkles of red, white, and blue.

“Who wants to go to Dairy Queen?” Hog asked.

You and Junkrat cheered as Roadhog sped down the road.

“Wait,” A thought popped up in your mind as you glanced at the taco wrappers at your feet. “We’re supposed to get more tacos!”

“Shit!” Hog hissed and swerved the car around.

You and Junkrat continued shooting fireworks out of the car, scaring drivers off the road. The police trailed behind.

THE END

[splxtduxlies]

out of context splatoon headcanons i need to drop before i die ok

when theyre walking down the sidewalk agent, 3 walks on the outside/closest to the street and dissasociates quietly, 8 walks on the inside so she can be nosey and look into everyones houses and 4 struggles to walk in the middle and talks about nothing important while no one listens

dj dedfish solemnly: "someone will die" callie: "of fun :D!"

agent 4 replies to every txt message exactly 45 seconds after recieving it on the dot

agent 3 texting: "im picking u up today be out on time" agent 4 replying: "gucci :p" 3: "delete my number"

at the supermarket after winning a splatfest:

agent 4: in the cart

mayo bottles: opened

agent 8: pushing the cart

snapchat on 3s phone: opened

ebb and flow: blasting

the agents are forcibly removed from mako mart

marina and pearl: *show capn a funny video online* capn: "haha who is that? do you know them??"

agent 3 on the phone: ms johnson my daughter would never do such a thing such a thing there for after! *silently to 4* did you fucking do that thing there for after-

"you have now became agent 4's friend!" "agent 4 will now die for you!"

8 gets surprisingly competitive about playing games. if youre ahead of her in mariokart she mumbles like ancient octoling hexs under her breath 4 swears to god

pearl sleeps with stuffed animals.

thats it. not up for discussion

[grovestep]

Skate Into My  Heart [LucioxJR Ch.1]

Author’s Notes: I have recently discovered the amazing ship that is BoomBox, and I can't get enough. They definitely don't have enough fics around. So I decided to remedy that in my own way. I introduce to you: Skate Into My Heart Setting: A modern AU. In which Junkrat and Roadhog run an auto repair shop, and Lucio is still a renowned musician and DJ.  Chapter Summary: A dashing young man skates into Jamison Fawkes' life. Jamison, eccentric, messy, and manic is a stark juxtaposition to Lucio's calm, cool demeanor. Jamie doesn't know how to deal with it. Chapter warnings: Language, mentions/hints at sex 

Chapter 1: The Mechanic and the Frog

Jamison Fawkes stared at the underbelly of an over-stylized '59 Cadillac, mulling over the inner workings of the vehicle as he wiped his hands with a dingy cloth. Footsteps broke his train of thought as someone approached the front of the vehicle, dropping something heavy on the concrete floor of the shop. Jamison finished messing with the oil pan before sliding out from the underbelly on his mechanic's creeper. "What do ya want now, ya big bloke?" Jamison asked, expecting to be greeted by the giant stomach of his boss, Mako Rutledge. Instead, Jamison stared up at the toned calves and dark thighs of a man in shorts. A style that Mako failed to pull off. The man above him let out an awkward laugh, stepping back so Jamison wasn't staring directly up at his crotch. Jamie played it cool, sliding back under the car only to appear on the other side. He walked around the Cadillac back to his original position in front of the stranger.

"Sorry, mate, though ya were m'boss," he said, holding out one hand for a shake. He looked down at his palm, which was covered in grease despite his efforts with the cloth, and gave a lopsided grin. "Er, maybe hold off on the shake for now, yea?" he wiped his hand down his bare chest before shoving it in his pocket. The man's eyes creased at the sides as he smiled, something that Jamie found subtly charming. He wrinkled his nose at the intrusive thought. "What can I do ya for?" The man picked up a pair of roller skates off the floor, "Think you can repair my skates? I had a bad wipe-out earlier playing street hockey," he said. Jamison paused. He stared at the man through squinted eyes, sizing him up. The man didn't look daft. A little posh, maybe, but that didn't always mean missing a few marbles. "Mate...you know you're at a car repair shop, right?" he asked and pointed to the sign that read "Rutledge Repair and Body". Skate-Man let out a laugh. It was melodic, almost like music. It echoed through the repair shop's garage, carrying on even after he was done. "I know very well where I'm at. These aren't just any skates. They're more car than anything," he said with a wink. Jamison blinked, his brow creasing. "Wot?" "They're motorized and have a special function that helps you keep your balance. Something about centrifugal force..." Jamison tuned out of his explanation of the car-skates. His short attention span resented lengthy explanations of things he could figure out himself by taking something apart. He stared at the man, his eyes flicking across his features. Something was familiar about him. He reeked of posh life, even if he was covered in sweat and slumming it in a repair shop. Jamie clicked his tongue as he tried to place him. "AH-HAH!" he exclaimed, interrupting the man's tirade and making his eyes widen in surprise. "You're that Brazilian froggy bloke who does the music!" "Oh, uh. That," the man said. Jamie watched him withdraw, seeming to fold in on himself. He gave Jamie a shrug. This was the opposite of the pumped up DJ he sometimes saw on TV. "Lucio. Um, none of the 'froggy bloke' thing, please." Jamie straightened his back, regaining a professional composure. At least, as professional as he could manage. "Well, Lucio, I'm not so sure--" "Rat!" Jamie jumped, whipping around as the hulking shape of his boss appeared out of the back office. Mako's piercing blue eyes leveled Jamie with a hardened stare over the gas mask he wore for paint jobs. Jamie looked at his boss with saucer-wide eyes. Mako motioned to Lucio before disappearing back into his office to do god knows what. Jamison gulped. "Right-o. What I meant to say was, we'd be happy to take a look at your, uhm, more-car-than-skates." Lucio seemed to perk up at that, handing the skates over to Jamie. Their fingers met for a moment, sending a jolt all the way from Jamie's fingertips, through his spine, and to the tips of his toes. He managed a smile, exposing one of the gold caps on his canines. If Lucio felt the same surge of electricity, he didn't let on. Jamie shrugged it off as nerves from having an actual celebrity in his shop, wanting his assistance. "When can I expect them done?" Lucio asked, shoving his hands in his pockets before leaning against the wall with one shoulder, his legs crossed at the ankle. It was then Jamison realized he was barefoot. Each toenail was panted a different color of the rainbow and, somehow, Jamie wasn't surprised. Lucio cleared his throat, startling the mechanic out of his trance. "Oi, sorry, mate. Got a lot on me mind today. Big order, this," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as he jerked his chin toward the '59 Caddy. "If you come by tomorrow, though, I should have them fixed right up. Do you have a number I, er, we can contact when these are done?" Jamie expected Lucio to pull out a business card, but instead he pulled out a small pen from one of his many pants pockets. It was lime green and topped with a frog. Jamie snorted. "Do ya have a piece of paper?" he asked, twirling and weaving the pen through his fingers with ease. "'Fraid we're all out," Jamie said, "And me brain ain't the best at keepin' things like that in the ol' memory." "That's fine, uh, do you mind then?" Lucio asked, motioning to Jamie's bare arm and mimicking the act of writing with the pen. Jamie shook his head, extending his arm for the DJ to scrawl his number. Lucio looped his fingers around Jamie's wrist, keeping his arm still as he wrote. The mechanic had to stifle raucous giggles as the pen pressed and tickled at the flesh of his arm. He practically vibrated with the effort. Lucio's tongue poked out from between his lips as he wrote, a quirk that Jamie's brain didn't fail to commit to memory. When he was done, Lucio ran a finger over the carefully inked number, making sure it didn't smear. He was oblivious to the mechanic's elevated heartbeat, which was inevitably noticeable through the coursing of his veins and pulse point on his wrist. Jamie looked at the number on his arm, which was in handwriting that just embodied the DJ. He bit back the urge to tell him he wrote like a sheila. At the end of the number looked like a signature, but stylized into the shape of...a frog? "I didn't give ya permission to go drawin' amphibians on me arm now," Jamie said. Lucio stammered, starting to apologize before noticing the manic grin on the mechanics face. Ah, a joke. He returned the grin with his own easy smile. "Well, thanks for helpin' me out, ah..." Lucio said, leaving his mouth agape and brow knit together in thought as he fished for the man's name. His cheeks darkened a bit as he didn't come up with one. "Don't worry, I didn't tell ya m'name. It's Jamison. Was never one for a posh name like that, so you can call me Jamie," he said, "I'll contact you tomorrow 'bout your skates. Fix 'em right up, good as when ya bought 'em at the mart." "Thanks again, then, Jamie," Lucio said, turning on his heel to leave the auto shop. He looked over his shoulder at the mechanic, giving him an open-palmed wave goodbye and a smile. Jamie stood in place for a moment, listening to the gentle pap-pap-pap of Lucio's bare feet against the sidewalk as he disappeared. He collapsed against a wall, dropping the skates and running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. "Fuck, what is wrong with me?" he muttered, scrubbing both hands over his face. Acting like a damn sheila over a barefooted, posh, froggy bloke. He stared at the skates with distaste. They were probably just regular old skates the bastard was too lazy to take to a skate shop. Jamie decided he'd deal with them immediately. Maybe he'd "accidentally" drop a glob of his lunch into the skates and conveniently forget about it. He picked them back up and trudged to his office, slamming the door behind him. --Much to Jamison's distaste, the skates were more car than anything else. Taking the damn things apart without ruining the whole pair was exhausting and tedious work. He used his long and deft fingers to poke and prod at the various mechanisms, trying to figure out what each of them did. As much as he hated to admit it, he was enjoying tinkering with the skates. They were unlike anything he'd ever seen before. He sat back in his chair and stared at them as he stretched his arms above his head. His shoulders creaked and cracked like gravel. Jamie stifled a yawn, looking at the digital clock on the wall. 1:30AM. Shit, he was not pulling an all-nighter for this bloke. He'd have to continue the work tomorrow at home if he wanted to get it done in time. He grabbed a duffel from the corner, scooping the skates and his tools into the bag. He hauled the bag over his shoulder, hurrying out of the shop and locking up before hoofing it down to the block to his flat. Once he was inside the messy apartment, he cast the duffel-bag aside, collapsing on his bed and falling into a deep sleep. He awoke a few hours later refreshed and ready to work. He dumped the contents of the bag out onto his kitchen table, taking a seat on his dilapidated chair. He worked well into the afternoon, damn near taking the skates entirely apart and putting them back together again. His eyes happened to glance down at his arm where Lucio's number was smudged from sweat. He panicked for a moment, realizing that the man might show up at the shop looking for his finished skates. If Jamison wasn't there, he might complain to Mako, and if he complained to Mako... Jamie gulped, not wanting to think about that. He dug in his pocket, pulling out his phone. He dialed the number, pressing the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he continued to work on the skates. The phone rang once, twice... "Olá?" The man's melodic voice answered. Jamie paused for a moment. He had expected the number to route him to the celebrity's agent, butler, voicemail...anything but the man himself. "Uh, hello, mate, it's Jamie from the shop," he said, muttering a curse under his breath as he dropped his screwdriver. "Oh, yea! I've been waitin' for a call from you. How're my skates coming? They ready?" "Uh, not quite. They're givin' me a little trouble, nothin' too big. I wasn't 'suppose to work today, so when I didn't finish them yesterday I, uh, brought them home with me to finish the job. I hope ya don't mind," he said. There was a pause on the other end, and Jamie's heart raced. The bugger was probably racing over to tell his boss. "That's no problem! So long as they're getting fixed. Do you want me to pick them up at your place, then?" Lucio said, and Jamie's shoulders slouched in relief. Dodged a bullet there. And then he tensed again, his mind registering Lucio's question. "Oh, uh, I mean if you want to. I won't make you go outta yer way or anythin'. It's uh, not company policy," Jamie said as he prodded at what he assumed was the centrifugal whatsit Lucio was on about yesterday. "No, no, it's fine. I don't mind, really. You're fixin' up my babies, it's the least I can do in return besides, you know, pay you," Lucio said, and Jamie could hear the smile in his voice. The way he was about to laugh. He closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his palm against the space between his brows. Actin' like a bloody sheila, again. "Right-o, I'll try to have 'em done by the time ya get here. M'flat is just down the block from the shop. Shimada Apartments. Just tell the bloke at the front desk you wanna see Junkrat, he'll know what you mean," Jamie said. He heard the man on the other end say the nickname under his breath. "Oh-kay, I'll be there soon," Lucio said. Jamie could hear the questioning tone in his voice, but knew he was too polite to ask about it. Jamie decided he wouldn't supply answers to unspoken questions. He exchanged goodbyes with Lucio before hanging up the phone. He stood up from his chair, looking around his apartment. It was...a mess. The embodiment of his nickname. Old food boxes were strewn across the counters. His vintage Playboy mags were stacked in one corner, leaning precariously to one side. He knew he shouldn't care, but apart of him was embarrassed to no end thinking that the pretty froggy bloke would see what a mess he lived in. Of course, he could just stick his head out and hand over the skates. But what if they weren't done? He couldn't make the lad stay out in the hallway. He didn't live with the best of people, and Lucio reeked of social status and money. It would be like making him hold a sign that said, "Mug me!" So, Jamie set to work cleaning to the best of his ability. He swept the trash off the counter and into the bin. He shoved as much laundry as he could into the washing machine, and kicked the rest into the hamper. The dishes in the sink that were growing alien colonies he threw in the trash, too embarrassed and disgusted with himself to clean them. His eyes landed on the Playboy magazines, and he thrummed his fingers against his chin in thought. He grabbed one of the blankets covering the couch and threw it over the stack. He stood back and looked at his handiwork. Now it looked like a disorganized person lived there, and not a lazy hoarder. It wasn't long after he sat back down to finish the skates that a knock came on the door. Jamie was startled out of his work trance, his head swinging up to the door. "Just a secoooond!" he said as he tightened one of the screws on the skates. He hurried over to the door before any potential muggers descended upon his guest. He opened the door was was greeted with a sweat drenched Lucio, bare chested and his dreads pulled back off his face by a bandanna. Jamie felt his breath catch in his throat. "Hey there," Lucio said, and Jamie damned his ever-cool attitude. Of course, he wasn't staring directly at a glistening set of abs and biceps. In fact, he was staring at a sleep deprived slob of an Australian. Jamie shuffled to the side, opening the door wider so Lucio could come in. The shorter man slipped into the doorway, and to Jamie's relief, didn't seem to pay attention to the surroundings. The man's eyes were trained on the skates. "Just about got 'em finished. Ya weren't lying when ya said they were more car than skates. Took me 'alf the night and most of the day jus' to put 'em back together," Jamie said as he closed to door and came up behind Lucio. He dwarfed the man in size, but Jamie had a feeling the shorter man could still kick his arse if he felt like it. He skirted around Lucio to reclaim his seat. "Sorry about that, I know it's probably not something you're used to," Lucio said, rubbing the back of his neck and offering Jamie an apologetic smile. "No sweat off my back. I like takin' things apart, seein' what makes 'em tick," Jamie said, using that fact to distract himself from Lucio's abs. He resumed prodding at the skates, set on fixing the centrifugal doo-dad once and for all. "You seem to be that sort of guy," Lucio said as he watched Jamie, "You have a...calculating gaze." "That so?" Jamie asked, quirking a brow but not looking up from the skates. His cheeks flushed a light pink. He hoped the shitty lighting in his apartment would cover it up. "Yea, it's like..." Lucio took a seat across from him at the table, splaying his hands on the wood, "When I came into the shop, your stare felt like you were picking me apart from the inside. It was kinda unnerving," he said. "Oh, sorry 'bout that, uh, I..." Jamie floundered for an answer, feeling like he was caught in the act of stealing. He didn't look up from the skates to see Lucio's expression. He could see it in his head. Accusatory. Angry. "Then when you opened the door, that look was there again. Picking me apart..." Was that a hitch in his voice that Jamie heard? He dared a glance up from the skates. Lucio was watching him, his eyes half-lidded and that damned easy smile on his face. The flush on Jamie's cheeks strengthened, and he averted his eyes again. "It's almost like you can see right into my soul. You know, not many people look at me like that. They only see DJ Lucio, the celebrity. I was afraid it was like that when you figured out who I was," Lucio said, letting out a chuckle. There was a creak as he leaned back in the chair, "But the way you looked at me. I knew that wasn't so." Jamie worked faster, and, dammit, why were his hands shaking? He reached for his screwdriver, but his palms were too sweaty and hands too shaky to keep a grip on it. It fell from the table, spiraling to the floor. He startled from his seat to catch it, and before he knew it, Lucio was right there, leaning down to catch it, too. The DJ's reflexes were faster than his own, and he caught it in his palm. They were so close it was driving Jamie mad. He could smell Lucio's citrus cologne and the tangy scent of his sweat. He could feel Lucio's breath by his ear, the heat radiating off his body. He stifled a whine, biting his lip. Lucio pressed the screwdriver into his open palm, clasping his hand to stop Jamie's shaking. "Easy, easy, lindo," he said, and a shiver ran through Jamie's spine at how close those words were breathed right up against his ear, and his head was swimming with too many racing thoughts to ask what lindo meant. Probably idiot, stupid, or a million other insults, but Jamie didn't care. This man could call him the worst names in the book and it would still sound like music. "Th-th-thank you," Jamie stammered, and when he looked at Lucio the man had already withdrawn, leaning back in his chair with that easy grin on those plump kissable lips, and, fuck, what was he thinking? Lucio just gave him a wink, acting as though nothing happened. Had anything happened? Had he imagined it? A droplet of sweat ran down his forehead, and he wiped it off with the back of his arm, leaving a smear of ink from the number Lucio had written on it. "Hey, now, you might need that later," Lucio said, motioning to the number. Jamie boggled at him with wide eyes. "You know, in case I have another skate emergency," he explained as though it were obvious, but there was something in his voice that made Jamie's stomach heavy and his pants tighten. This man was toying with him. "Oh, right. Well, I have it in me phone already. I'll keep in there, then, if ya like," Jamie said, finishing up the skates and trying with all his might to keep the quiver out of his voice. "Mm, yea, keep it there. You never know when I'll go flying ass over elbows and break a skate," Lucio said as he took the finished skates as Jamie pushed them across the table. Or head over heels, Jamie thought, mentally berating himself for being such a fuckin' sheila as of late. Reading into this man's actions like he meant something to him. "Well, thank you again. I really appreciate it. I'll head down to the shop to make the payment. I wish there were more I could do to show my gratitude," Lucio said as he got up from his seat. I'll tell you what you can do, you sexy piece of--, "Uh-ha, it's no problem. Don't worry about it, mate," Jamie said, following Lucio to the door. The man was almost out into the hallway when he turned around again. "Oh, and Jamie?" "Whazzat, mate?" "You have something on your forehead." Jamie had only time to blink before Lucio brushed his bangs off his forehead, rubbing the heel of his palm across the ink mark from earlier. Jamie's amber eyes stared into Lucio's chocolate brown ones, their noses brushing tips. Jamie swore he could feel Lucio's lips against his own, feather light, chaste. But just like that, Lucio was gone, walking down the hallway, his melodic chuckle trailing behind him. Jamie stared after him, his fingers going to brush against his lips. What the fuck just happened?

[an-inspired-eternity]

WHY IS EVERYONE ON SPLATOON 2 TALKING ABOUT MAKO MART

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON