#i modelled his eye here in the shape of the first photo of a black hole. why wont anyone but jimmy look him in the eyes?

[honeyedsyntax]

Older

You weren't new to the spotlight.

You were used to your body being picked apart — your walk, your lips, the shape of your collarbone in a campaign for Saint Laurent. But this?

This was different.

What started as a blurry photo, you walking into a hotel, him following behind, no words exchanged, just the faint suggestion of his hand at your back, turned into a wildfire of headlines. No statement. No confirmation. Just silence and a slow unraveling of every detail you thought you could keep for yourself.

They called you all kinds of things.

"What does a 24-year-old see in a man pushing 55?"

"Are we just normalizing this now?"

"She's smart. He's rich. We get it."

"This can't be love."

You told yourself it didn't matter. You told yourself he didn't care. And maybe he didn't, at least not in the ways that showed.

In the quiet of his Gangnam penthouse, legs tangled under expensive sheets, you'd once asked him, "Do you care about the noise?"

He didn't answer at first. He never rushed with words. Just reached for your ankle under the covers, fingers warm, and tugged you toward him with that maddening ease. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

"They don't know you."

He kissed you slow that night — the kind of kiss that didn't try to prove anything. Just stayed.

Still, the tension built with every new article, every speculative video breakdown, every side-eye at fashion week. And maybe you could've lived with all of it, if not for what happened in Cannes.

You wore archival Versace — black, backless, with your hair slicked up to show every angle they said made you "look older." It didn't matter. You still felt their stares when you walked into the afterparty alone. Their whispers, their camera phones tilted slightly down, like they weren't really recording but always were.

You knew where he was. He was always close.

You caught his eye near the bar, his suit immaculate, hair neatly styled, drink in hand. He didn't smile. He never did when eyes were on him. But he watched you like a man who already knew what it felt like to lose you.

And then Jay appeared. Mid-20s. Model-slash-actor. Pretty, confident, loud in the way only men your age could afford to be.

"Didn't think I'd see you here alone," he said, grinning like he knew something you didn't.

"I'm not alone," you replied, turning your body ever so slightly away.

"Right," he laughed. "You're with... him."

You didn't answer.

Jae leaned in, his voice dropping as he added, "Come on. You're gorgeous, but you're not dumb. He's old enough to be—"

"You done?" said a voice behind him.

Not loud. Not aggressive. Just there. Just him

Jay froze mid-sentence.

Byung-hun stood a step behind, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. But his voice cut through the air like a warning bell — quiet, and impossible to ignore.

Jay's smirk faded. He looked between you both, then backed off with a half-laugh, half-apology. "Didn't mean anything by it," he said. But he left fast.

For a few seconds, the world quieted. Just music, muted voices, and the space between you.

"You didn't have to do that," you said softly.

He didn't look at you right away. Just watched the crowd, unreadable as ever. "You didn't want me to?"

"No," you admitted. "I wanted you to do more."

His eyes shifted then. Slow. Sharp. He stepped closer, hand brushing your back with just enough pressure to make your breath catch. Across the rooftop, a camera flash went off.

You didn't flinch. Neither did he.

Let them take the picture.

You were done pretending you weren't his.

The internet did the rest.

A TikTok edit — you on the red carpet, walking ahead of him, hips swaying in couture. He pauses a step behind, gaze locked on you. The sound is slowed. A breathy remix of "Older" plays under the clip. The top comment reads: "He's looking at her like she's already gone."

Another post goes viral — a paparazzi shot outside a hotel. You're mid-laugh, head tilted back. He's looking down at you, one hand resting protectively at your waist. His other hand holds a phone. His body is turned toward yours like it's muscle memory.

Then came the video.

Leaked. Not posed. Just a quiet moment in his kitchen: you in one of his shirts, barefoot, slicing fruit at the counter. He walks in behind you, says something too soft for the mic to catch. You smile, barely. He leans down and presses a kiss to your shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world.

No makeup. No angles. Just him. Just you.

The comments flood in.

"Why does this feel so real?"

"You don't fake that kind of intimacy."

"I hope this ruins me."

"He's obsessed. You can tell."

He didn't ask you to deny it. Never once asked you to hide. But you could feel the shift in him every time someone younger, prettier, bolder, tried to touch what wasn't theirs.

Sometimes, when you were lying in his bed after the city had gone quiet, you wondered if this was still about you — or about everything he thought he didn't deserve.

One night, on the balcony of a hotel in Milan, you found him standing with his back to the city. His sleeves were rolled up, collar undone, moonlight brushing the edges of his hair.

You stepped beside him, silent.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm ruining you," you whispered.

He didn't move. Just looked at you, steady.

"You're not."

"They don't take you seriously anymore," you murmured. "People think I'm a phase."

He turned to you fully now. You hadn't even noticed your hand curling into your sleeve, like you were bracing for something. He reached for it, gently, thumb brushing over the inside of your wrist like he was memorizing your pulse.

"They can talk all they want," he said. "But they don't get to touch you."

You didn't cry. Not then. But something in you softened, like tension finally released from the bone.

The morning you left for a campaign shoot in Paris, he didn't say much. Just walked you to the car, pressed a slow kiss to your temple before the door closed.

Someone caught the moment. Of course they did.

By the time you landed, it was all over social media: you in sunglasses, him in black. His hand in your hair, his mouth just barely grazing your skin.

The caption:

"Older men don't look at women like that unless they've already chosen them."

The comments:

"They're either in love or in very, very deep."

"I hope she breaks his heart. Just to see what happens."

"No one survives this kind of thing intact."

You saw the post late that night, lying in bed in a Paris hotel suite.

You didn't reply. You didn't like it.

But you saved it.

And you watched it twice.

And then, just once more.

who wouldn't want to be his controversial young gf?

wattpad saw this first request box is open!<3

[b6d11f]

at my best, I'm a sacrificial lamb at my best, I am something you could handle

[dumbmusclehypnojockboy]

Audition

Author's note: @transform4u requested a story, so this one's for him. This is kind of a departure fore me. It's mostly done in first person, which I don't usually do. I hope you enjoy it.

“I wish I didn’t have to remember all these lines,” the words came out as a whisper.  A soft breeze blew in the theater.  “Granted,” it seems to say in the wind that chilled you to the bone.  The words on the script faded away, being replaced with a signed contract with a television company.  Something about documenting your life for the next few months.  Leaving your home and going to a time-share with some other people.  You look at the paperwork confused.  A buzz infiltrating your brain. 

“Rocko”, the director calls me.  I’m confused.  Isn’t my name Richard?  “Rocko Salvatori?  On stage please.”  He looks at me and I head up to the stage for an audition? 

The director looks at me and asks, “Hello, Rocko.  Your resume says your favorite hobby is working out?  Can you tell me about that?”

“Working out?  No, I mean,” images of the time I’ve spent in the gym, dedicating time and sweat and tears to making my pecs and bis grow.  Never skipping leg day.  Always taking creatine mixed with pre workout, downing protein shakes and doing endless crunches...  Gotta take care of the “situation”. 

“Yeah,” I say.  “I go to the gym five days a week.  Can you tell?” 

I flex a bicep that seems to grow out of nowhere.  Ten inches around turns in to 12 inches, turns in to 15 inches, turns in to 20 inches.  I flex my pecs.  Since when do I flex my pecs, I ask myself?  My pecs inflate with newfound muscle.  Growing to a whopping 50 inches around. 

I find my body stretching taller…  legs more so resembling long logs, stretching to the sky, torso stretching out, getting rid of the pudge that used to be there, and developing in to 8 separate rocks, an 8-pack of abs. 

My dick growing longer and longer now resembling a beer bottle in length and girth.  “Fuck yeah, I work out, bro,”  I say. 

The director asks, “I also see that you’ve done some modeling?”

Images of past gigs fill my memory.  That time I was flown down to Cancun to appear on a show for MTV Spring Break.  That photo shoot for a young adult clothing brand.  That one time he posed for Exercise for Men Only.  “Yeah, bro,” you find yourself saying.  “I aced modeling.”  Your face reshapens.  Jawline becoming sharper.  Cheeks becoming  accented, less round, more angular.  Eye brows becoming shaped, more perfect.  Teeth whitening, glowing, straightening.  Eyes becoming more clear, turning from blue to a sharp glowing brown.  Stuble growing around your chin and mouth area.  Your thick black hair standing straight up, held up with a precise amount of Spiker hair gel and a 16-second spray of Got 2 B hair shaper and molder.  You give ducklips pose to the director, and bring out your phone to take a selfie and post it on Instagram. 

The director clears his throat.  “Under life philosophy you just wrote GTL.  What does that mean?”

“Bruh,” you say, your brain rearranging information.  Reprogramming your memories, your thoughts, making you a different person. 

“Bruh, it’s a way of life.  A philosophical kind of being.  Gym, Tan Laundry.  You gotta take care of your bod… your pecs, bis, and abs… I like to look fresh, so everything has to go in to it.  You know, you have to go to the gym the whole week.  Tan.  You have to have color if you didn’t go to the beach.  And then the last thing you need to take care of is the outfit.  You gotta look fresh, you know.  If you don’t look good, you ain’t gonna feel good bro, and then you ain’t gonna have a good night.”

 You give in to the words that are coming out of your mouth.   Gym.Tan.Laundry=LIFE, bruh,  Fuck yeah.  Gotta be FTD, Fresh To Death.  Looking for hunnies DTF.  Down To Fuck.  Hell yeah!  The thoughts running through your head.

“Rocko,” the director says, “it says here that you identify as a Guido?  Can you tell me about that?”

The words go through my head.  Guido… Guido…  Fuck Yeah, I’m a fucking Guido.!  I GTL all day and am DTF all night.  I go out FTD, and get all the pussy I want.  I am so Hot, So Fresh.  I’m a fucking Guido.  “I’m a Guido.  What’s there to explain?  I work out, tan and clean up fresh.  I go out and party all night and bring home the PU-NA-NI, you know what I mean?  And I have over three million followers on my social media.”

Red flashes over the director’s eyes, and a demonic façade flashes over the director’s face, just for a second.  “You’ll be perfect for the next generation of our new reality show, Rocko.”

[pfffsfic]

okay. okay this is not a serious theory but every time I think about it I come up with new "evidence" for it. basically the gist of it is TAWOG'S SHAPE PEOPLE ARE EUCLYDIANS. maybe refugees? "but didn't everyone in eucyldia die?" ignore that. just pretend they skipped town before the fire or something, this is not airtight. it's not even close. it's basically a joke treated seriously. i know the shows are not in the same universe but

hear me out.

Part 1: At face value.

point numnber one: these guys are 2D. the gumball universe has 3D people and 2D people, and the Shape People are 2D, or drawn as opposed to modeled.

point number two: physical traits! other than the obvious 'they are shapes', some or all of the Shape People:

Lack visible mouths (mind you, these Shape People's mouths appear when they speak). Bill also lacks a visible mouth but very occasionally gets one (one page of the Book of Bill, a polaroid in the Weirdmageddon intro).

Can have one eye. the rectangle in the top image is a one-eyed shape person, but there's also this familiar-looking yellow one-eyed triangle Shape Person (who pre-dates Bill's first proper appearance, by the way):

They have noodle arms. little noodle arms

this one is hard to explain but the positions of their arms aren't fixed. this applies to all/most Gumball characters but not to all gravity falls characters. how do I explain this uhh

look at how one of his arms is attached to his bottom plane and one is attached to his side plane. sometimes both of them hang down at the bottom and sometimes both are on the sides. POINT IS-

look at that!

in the rightmost image above you can also see a tiny sliver of a 3D edge like Bill has.

Each Shape Person is also a single color.

Part two: Culture.

note: this one only really applies to the three shapeople i've been using as examples this whole post- Ed the triangle, and his black pentagon and rectangle friends? family members?

I know there are other shapes who look less like them and whom these things don't apply to, but we can blame that on interbreeding with Elmoreans/cultural assimilation or something. okay, let me begin.

point number three: Ed's group is implied to not be from Elmore. when we first see him he's mistaking a bus stop for another shape person:

he also-

point four: the Shapeople language includes one spoken(?) system with colorful squares representing it. on the TBOB website the words of Euclydians are written in colorful square substitution cipher. there are also other shapes for the shapeople, mind you.

back to point 3: not from Elmore. The next time Ed's group appears, they're framed like tourists and ARE HAVING TROUBLE MAKING SENSE OF A 3D (well, i guess 2d but in the other way) MAP.

Gumball tries and fails to talk to them in their language, and ends up making a cultural faux pas. and in Ed's final scene there's an interesting line...

my people? He could be talking about his species, but the existence of a culture implies to me that this line refers more to a homeland. in other words the shape people are from the same place, which we sort of knew because they speak the same language. also has bill ever been seen giving a thumbs up or down? i'm pretty sure he hasn't but maybe I'm wrong, someone correct me here.

point number five: grasping at even more straws.

Despite their origin, the one known named shape person's name is Ed, which falls into the same cultural sphere as Bill.

We know that Ed's type of shapeople are physically capable of speaking English because the black rectangle does so at one point.

one of the symbols in the shapeople language is a skull. we see that Bill's mind has a bill skeleton with a skull that also fits the humanoid-ish template.

final point that does not help the theory but is still weird: Bill's baby photo seems to have a live-action background?? and so does the image of teen/preteen bill? look at these. i'm not implying that elmore IS euclydia somehow, that makes very little sense to me as of writing (though i guess it was destroyed and now Bill has a fear of TV static, which, like, maybe I could phenagle a theory here if I really tried but it seems like even more of a reach than this existing theory.) I dunno, maybe Euclydians would have wanted another 'realistic' dimension to flee to.

(we also see this squishy rosy-cheeked shaperson baby at one point, make of it what you will).

[goldfades]

Could you write something where booker and reader meet for the first time at a random party?

yesss babe!!! here you go, i hope you enjoy! i wanted to make this a little more entertaining so i added some drama lol

The party wasn’t supposed to be anything special. Just another night, another house packed with people who smelled like expensive cologne, tequila, and bad decisions. You hadn’t even planned on going. But your best friend swore up and down that you needed to "get out" more, and somehow, after minimal convincing, you found yourself stepping into the chaos of a mansion you’d never been to, surrounded by faces you didn’t recognize.

The place was ridiculous. High ceilings, a chandelier that probably cost more than your rent for the year, and a backyard that stretched out to a view of the city lights, the infinity pool glowing a deep blue under the night sky.

You weren’t sure who owned the house, but it didn’t really matter. You were here now, moving through the crowd, your drink cold against your palm as you took in the scene. The usual. Girls laughing too loud, guys acting like they owned the place, music shaking the walls. You leaned against the marble counter of the kitchen, half-listening to your friend rant about something that, frankly, you weren’t paying attention to.

And then—him.

Devin Booker wasn’t someone you just ran into at a party. He was the type of guy you saw in commercials, on courtside highlight reels, in photos with models on yachts. He wasn’t supposed to be real, standing a few feet away, talking to someone like he wasn’t the most recognizable person in the room. But there he was, in a plain black tee and a watch that caught the light every time he moved his wrist. Effortlessly cool, relaxed in the way that only people who have nothing to prove could be.

You weren’t staring. Not really. But your gaze must’ve lingered just long enough because, suddenly, he was looking right back at you.

And he smirked. Like he knew something you didn’t.

It was the kind of smirk that made your fingers tighten around your drink. The kind that made you want to look away but also made it impossible to.

“Okay,” your friend whispered, grabbing your wrist. “Why is Devin Booker looking at you like that?”

“Like what?” you asked, too casually.

“Like he’s already decided how this night is gonna go.”

--

Devin hadn’t planned on being here either.

It was one of those nights—one where he let his boy talk him into stepping out, even though he wasn’t in the mood for a scene. It was always the same anyway. The same recycled conversations, the same desperate energy from people who wanted something from him—clout, a name drop, a story to tell later. He could already predict how the night would go: a few drinks, some forced small talk, and leaving before anything got too fun.

But then there was you.

He hadn’t noticed you right away. Not until you shifted against the counter, the dim lighting catching the soft sheen of your skin, the shape of your lips as you sipped your drink. Something about the way you carried yourself—like you weren’t trying too hard, like you weren’t there for them—caught his attention.

And then you looked at him.

It wasn’t the usual look he got. It wasn’t the kind of stare that came with recognition or expectation, like you were already piecing together an Instagram caption in your head. No, this was different.

This was intrigue.

And that smirk? That was instinct.

Because suddenly, the night felt less predictable.

He wasn’t sure what he expected from you, but he knew one thing—he wanted to find out why you looked at him like that. Like you weren’t impressed, but you weren’t indifferent either. Like you were still deciding if he was worth your time.

He shifted his weight, absently swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip, eyes still on you. The noise around him faded a little, the energy of the party dulling in comparison to whatever was happening between the two of you from across the room.

His boy, J, caught on. “You see something you like?”

Devin didn’t respond right away, just let out a breath of amusement, setting his drink down on the counter beside him.

“Nah,” he murmured, but the way he was still watching you told a different story.

J chuckled. “Sure. That’s why you haven’t blinked in, like, a minute.”

Devin exhaled through his nose, shaking his head, but he couldn’t even lie to himself. Something about you had his attention in a way that nothing else in this house did.

Then, just as quickly as you’d looked at him, you turned away, back to your friend, back to your conversation—like he was just another guy in the room.

And that? That was new.

People noticed him. They watched him, they angled themselves toward him, they tried to create opportunities to be seen by him. But you? You had looked, and then you had looked away. Like you weren’t waiting for him to do something about it.

And now, suddenly, he wanted to do something about it.

So he moved.

Not right away. Not obviously. But he casually stepped away from where he was posted, taking his time as he made his way through the crowd. People stopped him here and there—someone dapping him up, a girl reaching for his arm with a too-sweet, “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

He nodded, threw a small smile, but he wasn’t stopping. His focus was on you, on closing that space between you without it being too obvious.

He could hear the tail end of your conversation as he got closer. Something about how your friend had been hyping up this party all week, and now you were wondering why. He almost smirked again at that.

“Bad time?” he asked, finally inserting himself into your orbit.

The way you turned to look at him, your expression unreadable for a beat, made something tug at the corner of his mouth.

“That depends,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “You here to make it better or worse?”

Oh, you were good.

J was right—he did see something he liked.

But before he could respond, before he could make some smooth comment to match your energy, someone else joined the mix.

And suddenly, the moment shifted.

“Seriously?”

The new voice was sharp, familiar. And when Devin turned, he realized why.

It was her.

An ex. One of the situations he hadn’t tied up as neatly as he thought. The kind of ex who had taken his silence as a “maybe,” rather than the firm “we’re done” he had meant it to be.

And judging by the way she was glaring at you, then back at him, it was clear she had some thoughts about what was happening right now.

Your brows lifted slightly, amused, but you didn’t say anything. You just took another sip of your drink, waiting to see how this was going to play out.

Devin sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

Yeah.

This night just got a whole lot more interesting.

You barely had time to process the look Devin gave you before he was moving—suddenly, smoothly, like he’d done this before.

And maybe he had, because before you could react, his arm was snaking around your waist, his body pulling you into his chest with a kind of easy confidence that made it seem like this wasn’t your first time wrapped up in him.

It was an automatic thing, the way you braced a hand against his chest, your drink sloshing slightly in the other. He was solid, warm, and despite the chaos of the moment, you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath your palm.

His ex was still staring, her eyes narrowing, mouth parting slightly like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

And Devin? Oh, he was really selling it now.

His other hand landed on your hip, his fingers spreading slightly as he looked down at you with a smirk so casual, so convincing, that for a second, you almost forgot this was for show.

“Damn,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear, eyes locked on yours. “You really tryna start something tonight?”

You blinked up at him, pulse ticking faster than you wanted to admit. You could feel the weight of his ex’s stare burning into the side of your face. Devin had thrown the ball into your court, waiting to see if you’d play along.

So you did.

“Me?” You let your fingers drag down slightly against his shirt, eyes playful. “You’re the one who pulled me in.”

Devin chuckled, tilting his head. “Did I?”

“You did,” you said, pressing your lips together like you were trying not to smile.

You could feel the ex getting more annoyed by the second, and that was really what made you commit.

You relaxed into him, settling against his chest like you belonged there, like this wasn’t completely unhinged. His hand on your waist tightened slightly—just for a second, like he hadn’t expected you to really lean in—but he recovered fast.

���Unbelievable,” his ex finally snapped, her arms crossing tight.

“What?” Devin asked, deadpan. “You good?”

“I’m great,” she bit out. “Just didn’t think you’d move on so quickly.”

At that, Devin let out a short, amused breath and turned back to you, like he was checking in, like he was making sure you were still on board.

So, naturally, you doubled down.

You let your fingers toy with the chain around his neck, a gesture so natural that it surprised even you. “You really have exes still checking in on you like this?” you mused, shaking your head slightly. “I thought you were the cool type.”

Devin laughed at that—actually laughed, head tilting slightly back for a second before he looked down at you again, eyes glinting with something new. “Guess I got a few ghosts,” he admitted, tapping his fingers against your side absentmindedly.

Your skin burned where he touched, but you didn’t move.

His ex huffed, clearly done with whatever this was.

“You’re an asshole,” she said, voice cutting, before turning on her heel and stomping off, her friends trailing behind her.

And just like that, she was gone.

A pause settled between you and Devin. You were still close, his hand still resting on your hip, your fingers still curled around the chain at his collarbone.

Then, at the same time, you both broke.

A laugh bubbled out of you, and Devin shook his head, his deep chuckle vibrating through his chest. He let his hand drop, finally giving you some space, though his body was still angled toward yours.

“Well, that was—”

“Completely unnecessary,” you finished, pressing a hand to your forehead, still laughing.

Devin grinned, licking his lips as he glanced over his shoulder, making sure the ex was actually gone. “Hey, you played along.”

“You started it.”

“Yeah, but you took it to the next level.”

You tilted your head at him. “Oh, so you weren’t about to fake-kiss me if she stuck around another second?”

Devin’s smirk deepened. “You don’t know that.”

You rolled your eyes, still amused, still feeling the heat of his hands even though he wasn’t touching you anymore. “Well, congrats. You officially have one less ex to deal with.”

“And you officially have people thinking you’re my new girl.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, because that’s what I need in my life.”

He gave you a look. “You say that like I’m bad for your health.”

You smirked, raising a brow. “Aren’t you?”

Devin huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Damn. You really don’t hold back.”

“Nope.”

He studied you for a second, like he was trying to figure you out. Like he was trying to decide if this was something he should let go or hold onto.

Then he pulled out his phone and held it out to you.

You blinked. “What?”

“Put your number in,” he said simply.

You stared at him, searching his expression for any sign of hesitation. But there was none.

“I just fake-dated you for all of thirty seconds, and now you think you deserve my number?”

Devin shrugged. “I think I at least earned a conversation outside of this loud-ass party.”

You hesitated for just a second, but then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you plucked the phone from his hand, tapped your number in, and passed it back.

He glanced down at the screen, lips pressing together like he was satisfied with himself. “Good choice.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t start another fake relationship with me via text.”

Devin smirked, stepping back slightly, finally putting some space between you two. “No promises.”

And with that, he walked off, disappearing into the party, leaving you standing there—still buzzing, still processing, and maybe, just maybe—already kind of looking forward to what came next.

[jupiterswasphouse]

WASP REVIEW - VARIOUS (BUBSY)

[Image ID: Two screenshots of the wasp from Bubsy In Fractured Furry Tales /End IDs.]

Yep, you read that right, we're covering this bobcat bastard today, or at least, some of his adversaries. This may be a short one though, just a quick, mostly-visual analysis because, understandably, people aren't exactly out here doing a whole lot to document Bubsy enemies. Regardless, we do still have a few different bugs we can have a look at here!

Starting with what we've already seen here, the first wasp in this franchise, the one from Fractured Furry Tales! And honestly? It has that Bubsy stink on it but it looks mostly alright. Obviously, the head is inaccurate, the cone "nose", the teeth, and mammalian eyes are all absolutely wrong, and I have to say, the mid-gameplay sprite makes the presence of antennae unclear. But otherwise, in the above screenshot on the left, we can clearly see that this is based on some form of black and yellow species within the genus Polistes, possibly Polistes dominula, although the markings are not quite right, especially around the mesosoma. The leg count is right, although, the wing count is unclear (it looks like they only have two). The antennae are clearly present here, and they look alright apart from the color. They seem fairly straight apart from the "elbow" bend around the pedicel, which would be about accurate for a female paper wasp, which, surely this wasp would have to be, given the presence of a stinger.

[Image Source: Wikimedia Commons, Charles J. Sharp | Image ID: A photo of a black and yellow European paper wasp, Polistes dominula, on a grey stone surface /End ID.]

One thing that I can take note of that's not more on the visual side of things is that these enemies seem to attack with extreme prejudice regardless of the presence of a hive as well as doing so without provocation, this is strange, as wasps will only attack when provoked or if alarmed in defense of the hive. Although I suppose one could say that the presence of Bubsy The Bobcat in their vicinity is enough provocation for anyone to get murderous (As evidenced by the behind the scenes stories of Bubsy's development). Speaking of their murderous intent, venom from a single wasp would not be enough to kill a cat, however, given that these wasps appear to be roughly two feet in length, assuming Bubsy is a similar size to a real bobcat, it may be possible that the dose administered by these giant Vespids would be enough to grievously injure the iconically beloathed platforming mascot.

However, these aren't the only Hymenopterans Bubsy has to deal with! Enter, first, the least documented enemy here, the Hornets from the critically just ok 2019 platformer Bubsy: Paws on Fire!

[Image ID: An image of the Hornets from Bubsy: Paws On Fire! /End ID.]

... Yeah this is the only image I can really find of them. Still, we can see these enemies only really have a basic resemblance to real hornets, with an almost reptilian head-shape (Gex, is that you?) with teeth, too-bright solid colors with no real markings to speak of, once again an alright pair of antennae (although not long enough), heads that are too big, red eyes with no ocelli, only two wings as opposed to the four they should have, and only four completely unsegmented legs. Things are not looking good for this depiction, it's almost funny (Providing humor, in a first for the Bubsy franchise).

[Image Source: Wikimedia Commons, Yasunori Koide | Image ID: An image of a black and orange Asian giant hornet on a white background /End ID.]

Well, we do have one more, from Bubsy: The Woolies Strike Back! It's a bee this time. Although this one doesn't seem to have been specifically made for this game, it's allegedly an unused asset from Giana Sisters: Twisted Dreams! Let's just have a look here an-

[Image ID: A render of the bee model from Bubsy: The Woolies Strike Back /End ID.]

OH, GOD... Well, I do believe this one speaks for itself. If this review was just about this affront to nature of then we'd probably be looking at an automatic 0/10, however, the other foes faced by this fearsome feline shown here do a little bit of work to make up for it, although not enough to cleanse my soul of having witnessed it, so, with that said-

-

Overall: 4/10

-

Leave your wasp review suggestion in the replies, tags, or askbox!

[seiwas]

sel i don’t know what’s been in the air lately but i cannot stop thinking about iwa!!! the way he’d get flustered the first time you call him haji <333 he’s so in love with you, he smiles even if you call him haji accidentally when you’re mad at him!!! also buying cute pilates or gym sets and modelling them for him in your bedroom he just LOVES watching you <33 but it’s a little annoying cause u can’t trust his options cause he just says you look gorgeous in all of them <333 also the first time you wore a blue set he’d liked in particular to the gym you have to suck him off in the car cause he underestimated how much of an effect you’d have on him

oh my god. i was awwing the entire half of this until i got to the end was like whoAH WHOAH WHOAH. so true tho nonie. he can't drive w a raging boner, that'd just be too dangerous! also, buying cute pilates/gym sets gets him so rock hard i cannot EVEN. i love that idea nonie

truly... the enlightenment is in the air that’s what it is 😌🥺 we are finally being enlighjime-d, iwaitened. he also absolutely does get flustered when you first call him haji 🥺 i have a lil thing… i wrote abt that… actually… it's part of my hajime series (which is privated rn bc i'm rewriting it!! my writing style has changed a bit since i first wrote it) but!! i'll put it up here for our enjoyment 🥹🥹 and maximum feels (unfortunately, it is entirely innocent and no sucking off in the car but it is still so very dear to me! 🥺)

When Iwaizumi takes up Sports Science in California, you stay behind and complete your degree in Japan. The time difference sucks; just as he starts his day, you’re ending yours. Still, you make an effort to talk within the window of hours you’re able to. 

At 1:03 a.m., you are cozied up on your bed, night light casting a soft glow onto your tired eyes. You yawn, squinting at your phone while waiting for a familiar face to pop up on screen. A few minutes pass, and it vibrates, the picture you took of Iwaizumi that summer after high school on display. 

You swipe your screen to find bright light streaking through the lens of Iwaizumi’s camera, obscuring your vision of him.

“Hold on,” he murmurs, before the view turns to black. Random blobs and shapes move around and you suspect that he’s probably wiping the lens while moving to a place with shade. “Sorry, just walking to campus right now.”

You wait patiently. 

Soon enough, you are faced with a clearer visual of Iwaizumi, his spiky hair now shaped into a semi-crew cut—olive green eyes giving off the same stare you know can only belong to him. He doesn’t look much different from the photo assigned to him on your phone, but he doesn’t look the same either. The fact that you notice these changes means that time has passed, and you’re reminded that this is the Iwaizumi you no longer have—the Hajime you could have had. 

“Hey,” he greets, sending you a grin. A few beats and recognition flashes through his face as he notices that you’re all tucked in bed, ready to sleep. “Shit, did I wake you?” 

You laugh and shake your head, mushing your cheek against your pillow, “No, it’s okay,” you snuggle up to your duvet, “was waiting for your call anyway.” you readjust your phone and place both hands under your cheek, “You rushing to class today?” 

“Not really.” he answers, looking up from the screen, presumably to cross a road. “First period canceled, so I’m heading to the gym for a bit. How ‘bout you?” 

“Well,” a playful glint sparks in your eyes, “not rushing to class, no. Not going to the gym, either. Not in this outfit, I think.” you smile, suppressing a laugh. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but you can see traces of a smirk gracing his lips. 

Since going to America, Iwaizumi has gone through a few changes: his confidence, his humor, and his temperament—all of which have gotten better. He’s a lot more relaxed now than he used to be, joking around and going along with your jokes every now and then. But underneath all these improvements, he retains the same qualities that make him the Iwaizumi you know (and love). 

“Ha. ha. Funny.” he responds sarcastically. 

A twinge pinches at your heart, and you think, God, this banter, it hurts. This is the soft spot you know he holds for you. You’re brought back to the same nastiest look he’d given you when you wrote the most horrible puns on Aoba Johsai banners during matches. 

“I meant, how ‘bout you, you aren’t rushing to class tomorrow? Actually–” the video moves around and you catch a glimpse of him tapping his smart watch, a familiar black bracelet on his other wrist, “—shouldn’t you be asleep?” When he returns to the screen, worry lodges through his furrowed brows, a small pout forming on his face. You want so badly to be there to wipe it off. 

“It’s fine. You called, so.” you say softly, gently, leaving room for your admittance to ring louder. You know he understands because he’s done the same. 

“Well,” he copies you, “I don’t want to keep you up. Sleep’s really important, you know.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, “Okay,” disappointment poorly hidden in your tone. 

But he knows, he always does. “Call me when you’re free later, I’ll pick up. We can catch up then.” 

You smile and nod. A yawn escapes you, eyes slowly drifting shut. “Good morning, Haji.” you mumble.

He freezes.

He wouldn’t have heard it if not for his earphones (thank god he had them). It’s the first time you’ve ever called him Haji. Heat rises from the back of his neck, to the tips of his ears, down again to the expanse of his cheeks. The familiar thump sounds loudly in his ears. 

“‘Night,” he responds, whispering your name before ending the call.

It takes him a while before he continues to walk towards the gym; his heart is pounding too hard and too loudly for him to focus on where to go. All that replays in his mind is the sound of you saying Haji, softly, tenderly—the way you encase the syllables of his name in comfort that feels like it belongs to your lips.

Haji.

He wonders if you meant to call him that.

[shakespearefreak]

An American Girl Christmas 2023

(Finally getting around to posting my photos from Christmas, only a few days late!)

The first Christmas surprise, at least for Makena and Evette, came before opening a single gift. As everyone filed into the main room, Jip took off ahead, barking excitedly. When they followed, the girls saw why. Maritza was kneeling by Jip, patting him. “MARITZA!” they cried in unison. She leapt to her feet with a grin. “KAY! EVIE! Hi!!”

The reunited friends piled into one big group hug while Jip jumped all over them, wagging his stubby tail furiously.

Once the girls had calmed down, it was time to look inside everyone’s stockings! (Evette, who celebrates Yule and thus doesn’t have a stocking,* sat down to catch up with Maritza, who of course doesn’t have a stocking yet.)

*Evie knows that, like most Christmas traditions, hanging stockings has pagan roots, but she also feels that nowadays it’s mostly associated with Christmas.

(A better look at what everyone found in their stockings)

Time for presents! Just look at all those pretty packages!

Samantha went first. She found a lovely winter hat with a silver bow and a card tucked into the band. “To: Samantha, From: St. Nicholas,” it read.

Samantha went first. She found a lovely winter hat with a silver bow and a card tucked into the band. “To: Samantha, From: St. Nicholas,” it read.

Inside, she found a gorgeous winter coat of a deep blue velveteen that matched the hat band, trimmed with white fur, as well as a pair of black mittens. She put everything on to model it. “Oh! It’s beautiful!” she gasped. “And it will be just perfect for playing in the snow… these mittens will be much better for making snowballs than my fur muff!”

Next it was Nellie’s turn. “Ooh, I got a big one too!” she cried in surprise, sitting down to open it. (She tried to open the wrapping paper carefully so she could save it — no matter how financially stable she was now, part of her would always remember growing up poor — but Marley convinced her that wasn’t necessary. She felt rather guilty ripping the pretty paper, but she had to admit it was kind of fun.)

“Look, Sam! I got a hat, too!” Nellie looked through the rest of the box’s contents. “And mittens, and a coat, and a little cape! Oh, wow!”

Nellie put on her own new coat set, and the two girls grinned at each other. “Now all we need is snow!”

“That might take a while,” Marley cautioned (it was an unseasonably warm and rainy Christmas Day, with temperatures in the 50s).*

*I spoke too soon, though! It snowed here yesterday… unfortunately, it was a mixture of snow and rain, definitely not good for doll photos.

Virginia was next. She found a smallish, gold-wrapped package addressed to her. “I think it’s a book!” she said, feeling its weight through the foil.

She was right! “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle,” she read the ornate gilt lettering on the leather-bound cover, then paged through the inside. “Oh! This is the Holmes Christmas story! I can’t wait to read it!” (She also promised Samantha, who is another big Sherlock Holmes fan, that she could borrow it once she was finished.)

Josefina had a small box wrapped in red and gold paper. The wrapping bulged awkwardly in places, as if the object within were irregularly shaped, and when she picked it up, it rattled like there were a number of smaller objects inside. The rattle and the heft of the box felt somehow familiar…

Josefina gave a low gasp as she removed the paper to reveal her beloved memory box, filled with mementos: her late mother’s silver thimble, a square of the lavender-scented soap she’d always used, and a swallow feather and turquoise nugget that reminded Josefina of her; a rattlesnake rattle from her father’s childhood; and the heart-shaped milagro Tía Magdalena had given her during a trying time, to remind her not to lose hope in her heart’s desire. She held the box wordlessly with shining eyes, afraid if she were to try and speak she’d simply dissolve into happy tears.

Makena’s present was simply but prettily packaged in a small pink gift bag. “Ooh, I wonder what this is?”

It ended up being a long golden necklace. Delicate butterflies dangled from the chain on slender strands of gold, seeming to flutter and dance with every little movement. “Oh! I know exactly what outfit to pair this with!”

Finally, it was Evette’s turn. Hers was a lumpy package wrapped in paper as green as her dress, with a design of fir branches and snowy pinecones, topped with a silver bow.

She unwrapped it to reveal a white lacy shirt. “Oh, it’s so pretty!” she said, holding it up to show everyone. “I can’t wait to try it on!”*

*She did, in fact, try it on before changing for Kwanzaa, and it looked amazing on her, but I didn’t get a picture. 😕

The girls returned to the main room, chattering and showing each other their new gifts… just in time to save their Christmas Dinner from a certain curious dog! “Jip, NO!” several girls cried in unison while Sam dragged him away by his collar, his wet nose sniffing furiously at the scent of roasted turkey.

✨🎄 Happy Dollidays! 🎄✨

[joylinda-hawks]

August 2016. This year, two series featuring ZZH premiered, Demon Girl and Decoded. That is why it was decided to present the young actor with a fairly large acting career to a wider audience. ZZH appeared in a photo shoot and gave a short interview. ZZH was slowly building his career, he was happy that his roles and characters were noticed and appreciated. The film industry, on the other hand, needed "new faces" so that viewers would not complain about the monotony of the series. ZZH with his beautiful figure, ideal facial features perfectly matched the needs of the agencies promoting actors. ZZH decided to use the opportunity and show himself from the best side. In this photo shoot, ZZH appeared in two stylizations, one very colorful and the other consisting of a white set: pants and a t-shirt with a black print. While in the first stylization ZZH was photographed outside, in the second we have his photos taken inside the house. Besides, it was a good solution, because as far as I remember, ZZH had a bit of a cold at the time and that could have affected his weaker form. However, looking at the photos, you can't tell that he might have felt bad at the time. This white set nicely emphasizes ZZH's slim figure, especially the rather fitted trousers beautifully model his shapely legs. From several photos, I chose the one in which ZZH sits with his legs stretched out on a brown leather sofa. He looks as if he is resting, his right leg is bent at the knee, and his right hand is resting on it. On the other hand, his left hand, on which there is a small bracelet, is resting freely on the armrest of the sofa. ZZH is not looking at the camera lens, he is looking ahead with a slightly dreamy gaze. His longer, dark brown hair softly envelops his face. Small silver earrings are barely noticeable in his ears. What catches the eye are ZZH's thick eyebrows with an interesting shape, large eyes, a straight, graceful nose and perfectly formed lips. The brown couch and brown floor tiles liven up the monotony that emanates from the photo. ZZH looks like a relaxed young man here. I think this was a moment when ZZH could relax a bit during this photoshoot.

[ladyalisette]

Okay so uh, since this post was the one that actually pointed out to me that this is the Hand Holding Gun i went on a definitely very hinged red-string-board thing about what the EXISTENCE of euphony, never mind it's lore tab might (does) imply.

Details under the cut because most orbular Traveller, it's long.

First: Actually proving that the red hand IS Rhulk's. We do have, after all, other disciples on offer. However, I think with the shape of the gun it's gotta be him. For evidence:

This detail at the handle, matching Rhulk's eye arrangements,

The matching collarfrills, including the fact that the other side of the gun is very smooth (Addendum: it's even the same damn sides)

and last, these rivets, which feature in yellow on Euphony and similarly on Rhulk - Nezarec has similar structures, but they're majority black.

So. I think we can solidly say that the red hand is modeled after Rhulk, despite the non-fitting number and arangement of fingers but I'll have some thoughts on that later one.

now the part where i unhinge: euphony strikes me as a creation from the pale heart, which, we've been told and experienced, is a place that gives solid shape to emotions and feelings by dint of the comingling of Light and Dark taking place there atm.

Implying that the witness has been at least partially thinking about A Specific Disciple while in the pale heart, a thought, imo, given further credence by the subjugators.

We first meet them in there, and they clearly and obviously take after Rhulk both in appearance and in naming. All the named ones with one exception, bear names that fit the lubrean naming schemes we've seen. The one who isn't named such, is instead named in a more psion tradition, and sworn TO a psion, indicating, for me, that the girlies get assigned names from the outside instead of picking their own.

Which leaves us several options:

they're older than the Witness entering the pale heart and we just never met them before, Rhulk named them after a tradition he was familiar with. I find that unlikely because it's been strongly implied that the girlies are new AND. Rhulk has a lot of complicated and not resent-free emotions about lubrae. I am not sold on the idea that he WOULD name any spiritual offspring of his in lubrean tradition

they are a new invention of the witness which leads to to two further possibilities:

2a) The Witness made them deliberately, shaped like Rhulk, named like lubreans. The implication here being that if you open the Witness' internal dictionary at 'efficient' and 'loyal' you get photos of Rhulk, implying again a certain level of attachment even if an utilitarian one of 'most best knife in the drawer', especially with the naming scheme of the girls

2b) they're not, in fact, deliberately made. See above re: the pale heart manifesting feelings and memories. The implication here being that the witness has been spending a lot of time thinking about Rhulk and the girls just kinda Happened from there, a somewhat twisted, manifested memory akin to the abandoned city you find in liminality

Regardless, i feel like option 2, regardless of sub-option is on the money here. the Witness has, if nothing else, been sitting here going 'fuck us why can't we have a DECENT disciple again all of these are. blergh.'

If we assume that the red hand is indeed Rhulk's, that leads a certain twist to the lorepage associated with euphony.

Now the entire text is given as a translation of a text found in the pale heart, 'recessed in stone'. I feel like there is again some conclusions we can draw:

This wasn't intended as a message for us by the Witness, or it wouldn't be in a language we have to translate. It clearly CAN communicate with us fine, if we were the intended recipient, it wouldn't be sitting here with like 'translation with less than 85% confidence indicated in brackets' it would just be plain text. The original, untranslated thing is either in the language of the Dread, or the language of the Witness (which might be the same thing or not)

It being 'recessed into stone', to me, calls in parallels to the way the statues of the dissenters are presented sometimes molded back into stone, manifestations of the Witness in the pale heart, but either not conscious, or a deliberate rejection, again akin to the way the dissenters were trapped in those statues AWAY from the Witness. Due to the content on the loretab, i am slightly more inclined to lean towards this being a subconscious manifestation but i can certainly see both angles.

The lorepage kicks off with

'We speak so often of knives and violence, but perhaps you would come to understand something… [softer].'

Now i think. I THINK. the first 'we' in this text isn't the singular we the Witness uses for itself. I think this plural 'we' and the Witness is addressing someone else. This is the Witness reminiscing on conversations had in the past and addressing said conversation partner as 'you'.

The list of people who'd regularly have discussion with the Witness, especially ones detailing the final shape is short. And in the context of the goddamn hand it's VERY likely Rhulk. Which brings up the fascinating implication of 'you would come to understand something [softer]' (softer given with 72% confidence so even if not accurate, likely very close)

Which i think goes well with the idea that this is the Witness addressing Rhulk. We know Rhulk has a biiiiiig problem with anger and violence and that being his main solution to things, and also being part of his understanding of the final shape. The idea that the witness would address him - in a rather more gentle fashion - about another option is....certainly something and imo would say something about what the Witness envisioned for Rhulk in the final shape, before he died. Which y'know. Does track with the handholding gun. Additionally, i think i can tie this back to the Vow guns, actually

allow me to swerve

the vow guns are named, in no particular order:

submission

cataclysmic

deliverance

insidious

Lubrae's ruin

forebearance

all of these can be tied to Rhulk rather more directly with the SOLE exception of forbearance. like. Submission? Yeah for sure. Cataclysmic? The man break's planets as his day job. Deliverance? Both what he thinks he's doing and what he feels the witness did to him. Insidious? What he tried to do to another culture in the lore (try the subtle approach) and well, Lubrae's Ruin is obvious in itself.

The only one that doesn't fit him at all is Forbearance. The man has all the leniency of an angry chain saw. But. If you take this not as something that Rhulk's currently being but rather as a hint as to what perhaps what the witness intended for him. The thing he's missing that would perfect him. Which if taken with Euphony's line about desiring for Rhulk to have a softer/gentler understanding of the final shape does track again

Anyhow, back to Euphony's loretab.

'the strings of time have been pulled taught. Tightened and [tuned] to a delicate [balance of distress], if wound much further, would lead to [rupture]'

Now 'balance of distress' only has a 4% confidence rating so that seems like a Who Fucking Knows read. However. I feel like the way the witness talks about the final shape here does mirror some of what it's done to Rhulk and what i think it means to call back to, here: The way how in Shattered Suns, it flings his own trauma back at him, leaving him fragile enough to accept what the witness is offering a second time over, can easily be metaphorized as a tightening of strings to get the desired tone. And like. Rhulk isn't dumb, he's a fanatic. I think that's a parallel he'd get. That he'd been shaped to the witness' desired and that stress, and distress has played a part in this.

You will also note that the vast majority of pluckable strings on Euphony's design are on the underside of the gun, directly associated with the Rhulk shaped bits he was getting played like a fiddle it's true.

Keeping that in mind:

'If [plucked] at regular intervals, the waves rise and fall with such charm. This predictability is perfection; it is unmatched.'

See above re: getting played like a fiddle.

But also: we know for a fact that one of the things that Savathun despised about Rhulk, one of the things she derided him for was his predictability. He had one solution to his problems, and anger issues that would literally break planets.

And here the Witness stands and says that predictability is good. Which is ENTIRELY in character for it. That's what the final shape is, after all. Chaos removed, all things predictable. But again if we read this as the witness talking to Rhulk, it's... a compliment. Rhulk knows he's predictable. We've seen him try and change that in the lore, seen him try for a more subtle approach (failed, but he tried). So in the light of that, it's almost like a comfort. 'yes you are predictable as all hell. But we like that actually. That's perfect'

I think the the phrasing of being 'unmatched' calls to that, too, when we clearly see that Rhulk is the standard all other disciples are measured against - and found wanting. Nezarec got his shape altered to Rhulk's form, after all. Not the other way around.

and now the part that, if read in this particular context of 'this is the witness, talking to Rhulk, about the final shape' gets a whole different undertone:

'We will compose such [sweet music]. We will control the ebb and flow.'

'sweet music' as a 37% confidence interval so. Not Great. But still. Let's go with that. Because that's a rather particular phrasing even at low confidence, and ah. I

t's not a very esoteric phrasing if one wants an euphemism for sex, or related things.

I think that first 'we' in that line CAN be read as both the plural and the singular option. It would make sense in plural because the last 'we' in text is plural, the Witness talking to someone. If so: lends some credence, i think, to the read that there's a certain amount on intimacy in the subtext here. The second 'we' is definitely the singular one again. The Witness has control issues from here to the literal end of the world.

But also: if one reads the sentence before that with the implication of intimacy, then this more of 'both of us, together, but also: ME in charge' which... would fit their dynamic to a T. Which again: they both know this there are zero illusions held here about who is worshiper and who is worshiped. Who orders and who obeys.

IN CONCLUSION

i think a case can be made for the loretab on euphony being something of a post-mortem love note from the Witness to Rhulk. Not necessarily romantic because who fucking knows if that maps onto anything the Witness got going emotionwise, but. The entire thing, in the context of what the gun looks like, and what the phrasing is like, if read not as a monologue but as an address to someone? Is surprisingly tender.

I am torn on whether or not this is a memory, a fragment of a conversation that actually happened, or not, but i think in the context of the entire thing i am getting more of a vibe that this is more the Witness reminiscing about things it would have said to Rhulk, and never did. The regrets it has (which y'know. look at all those dissenters) which mount that it approaches the final shape it always wanted, but now has to approach without the person that was without a doubt its longest standing companion/social interaction.

Addendum: I have two thoughts on why the number of fingers don't match:

it's merely to retain the symmetry of the hands forming the barrel, from a design pov

it's not JUST design. it's a hint that the witness did want Rhulk in the final shape, but in a form more closely approaching its own, indicated by having the barrel of the gun taper out into a perfect - if red - mirror of its own.

Can I just say what a fucking win this is for people who ship Rhulk and The Witness

Took me a few times viewing it to realize it was just them combined into one gun

My heart

I cant

Rhulk found his way to his witness

They're together now

God the hands

The everything I can't im in agony

"Oh, but they loved each other didn't they."

Was a sentence I said out loud in front of my family

Not me waxing poetry because this damn game has crippled me mentally

Maybe I'll post my poem I spewed about them

More prose than a true poem but still

God

[starcrossedxwriter]

Date Night (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: it's just our favs being horny as hell lol NSFW

A/N: Fluff was requested because of what I put y'all through in Part 9 lmaoooo so here you go! Enjoyyyyyyy!

“What do you think?” Charlotte spun around in her third outfit of the night. She did a couple fake model poses as if she were in front of a photographer. 

Michael glanced up from his cell phone, a whistle escaping his lips. He was already dressed, a graphic tee, black jeans, jacket and boots. He had been ready for the last 30 minutes. His girlfriend, however, had brought half her closet to his house and between those clothes and the ones she kept there, she still could not decide on an outfit.

“Sexy as fuck… just like the last two outfits. We gotta go soon if we actually want to make the game.” 

She turned in the mirror, ignoring his urges to hurry. “None of these are good. I dunno. I think this makes me look a little pudgy. These jeans barely fit anymore. Look at my legs… short and stubby… And my waist is huge.” She gestured down at her body, which had gotten a bit thicker since Michael first met her. But unlike Charlotte, he loved it. Relationship weight, happy weight, looked damn good on her. 

“I like it, your body looks great. Just gives me something good to grip when I’m fuckin’ you from the back.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him, “You are so vulgar for no reason,” she laughed. “Ugh.” She stepped out of her jeans and threw the sweater onto the bed. 

“And you won’t be saying that when I get fat… then you won’t be attracted to me anymore and you’ll be dragging me to the gym with you,” she mumbled as she walked into his massive closet and went to her side. Michael had cleared out a nice section for her to keep clothes there, making it far easier for her to stay as many nights as she wanted without having to pack a new bag. “It’s just our first date at a public event since the premiere. I wanna look nice.” 

“That’ll literally never happen. You’re sexy at any size and every outfit you’ve put on since you started getting dressed an hour ago. But if you need help choosing,” he jumped off the bed and jogged to her side, pulling out a black mini dress she had in the closet. “This dress with those thigh high boots, andddd,” he jumped off the bed and jogged to his side of the closet before pulling out a dusty rose colored bomber jacket that matched one of the many colors in his t-shirt. “This. I bought it during filming so it’ll be oversized.” 

She raised her eyebrow before stepping into the fourth outfit. Even she could not deny that she looked damn good. The dress accentuated her shape and curves, the boots made her legs look longer, and the jacket pulled the whole look together. It was clearly a men’s jacket, which she knew would turn a head or two, but its oversized nature made her look chic and cozy. And their coordination was just subtle enough that it wouldn’t look like they tried too hard.

“What do you think?”  

“You look better in that jacket than I did,” he remarked as she stood in front of the mirror. “Sexy and sleek. Comfy and will look good in photos court side.” 

“Look at you. A secret stylist too?? I might have to keep you around, Mr. Jordan,” she mused, her hands working to put on her earrings. with a playful smile as he grabbed her hips and watched her.

“That’s the plan, beautiful. You know what would look good with that dress?” 

“Hmm? More of your clothes?” 

Michael produced a thin Tiffany blue box, a perfectly tied white ribbon and bow surrounding it. 

“What’s this?” Charlotte moaned pitifully, her heart soaring at his thoughtfulness. “It’s not my birthday o-or Christmas or anything.”

He shrugged. “I don’t need a special day to give you a gift. I just saw it and thought you’d like it.”

You couldn’t have wiped the smile off of her face as she opened the delicate box to reveal a rose gold necklace. The diamond pendant set at the center was large and beautiful but the whole piece still had a certain understated quality about it. It was not gaudy and loud but it still drew your eye like moths to flames. She was surprised at how well he knew her style. She was not even a big jewelry wearer on an everyday basis but it fit the simplistic vibe of the jewelry she did own and was subtle enough that she did not need a special occasion to put it on. 

“Bakari,” she took a sharp breath. “I-It’s beautiful. Bu-” 

He immediately shook his head. He was still trying to get Charlotte to accept him spoiling her without questions. “No buts. You like it?” 

“I l-love it. It’s amazing and so timeless. It’s perfect.” 

“That’s all I need to hear. Turn around for me.” She turned to face the mirror again, her eyes trained on his hands as he placed it around her neck and fastened it for her. 

Her hand immediately went to caress the pendant, studying the most expensive piece of jewelry she had ever had in her possession. 

“It’s…” she was at a loss for words as she looked at herself. 

Michael pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck before he let her curls fall back into place. “Perfect.” 

She turned back to face him, his hand adjusting the piece on her chest. 

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” 

His fingers lingered on her skin for a moment, her breath hiking slightly. She leaned in and kissed him, the pair’s lips and hands exploring each other as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. 

“W-what about the g-game?” She asked in a teasing tone as he tossed her down. “Weren’t you j-just rushing me about being late?” 

He smirked at her as he hooked his hands on the fabric on her thong and pulled it to her knees. 

“You want me to stop?” 

Cocky mother fucker, she thought to herself. He knew exactly what she wanted him to do. Feast on her, love on her, send her to other dimensions. However, she merely gave him a noncommittal shrug that she knew would rile him up, pretending she did not care if their quickie continued or ended. 

“Oh really? Aight, ma,” he muttered as he dove between her legs. 

Charlotte’s thighs clamped around his head as he slid two fingers into her pussy, which was already dripping with need. 

“F-fuck!” She cried out as he curled his fingers into her g-spot, his tongue spelling out his name against her clit. He pulled out every trick he knew, every action he knew turned her into a blubbering weeping mess. And it was not his usual slow build, he hit the gas pedal hard, going 0 to 100 in seconds. “J-just like that… fuck. I l-love it.” 

However, Michael was, too, in a teasing sort of mood. The moment he noticed her telltale signs of cumming, he slowed down, stealing her orgasm from her. The first time, she merely groaned, realizing his game fairly quickly. An expletive or two might’ve slipped, her words calling him a few colorful names. But she refused to back down. She knew what he wanted and she was convinced she would not cave. 

However, what she did not account for was how much stronger the sensations would feel every time he restarted. Each flick of his tongue and stroke of his finger felt amplified by 10. She bit down on her lip to keep the pleas from falling from the tip of her tongue. 

She knew when he finally let her cum, it would be heavenly but the build up was nothing short of torture. Glorious torture… the type she would gladly sign up for again and again but torture nonetheless. However, when he stole her orgasm from her the third time, all that ego and pride flew out the window. 

“B-Baby, p-please,” she begged as he brought her to the edge and slowed for the third time. Tears started to spring to her eyes as he detached his lips from her clit. 

“You want me to stop?” He asked again as his hands continued fucking her, slow and deliberate, this time knowing exactly what the answer would be. She rocked her hips to meet every thrust, her mind wishing she would will him to speed up, add another finger, or fuck her harder. However, it wasn’t enough. She knew she would have to give in. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

“N-No. D-don’t stop… P-please don’t stop,” she begged, a loud sigh of relief escaping her as he devoured her clit once again. And this time, he did not stop. 

Her hands gripped the comforter on his bed, the fabric bunching up in her hands as he finally took her all the way to her peak. He was a God carrying her to Mt. Olympus and she wished she could stay in that moment forever. 

A gentle tap to her thigh brought her back to Earth and reminded her to release him from the confines of her thighs. 

“S-sorry,” she whispered. 

He shook his head as he leaned over her lucid body and kissed her. “That’d be my preferred way to die, if you were wondering.” 

“Noted.” His hands grabbed her arms and helped pull her up so she could stand. 

“You ready?” 

Her eyes grew wide and her jaw fell. She assumed the game was a thing of the past. “You still expect me to go to the game after that??” She gestured toward the bed.

“Yes, and there’s more of that when we get back.” 

She wiggled her eyebrows. She did not much care about this basketball game but she most certainly liked the sound of that. 

***

Charlotte stayed close to Michael as he weaved them through the crowded stadium. She had never been to a basketball game in person but she had certainly never expected to go to one like this. Security escorted them through back doors and hallways directly to their seats, they did not even get to see the stadium. She had to keep reminding herself that while the perks of fame were new to her, they wasn’t to her boyfriend. 

She appreciated that Michael could tell she was a bit overwhelmed. Their hands stayed interlocked, his body close to hers as security directed them. She did not think his sexiness could increase in her eyes but in this light, it did. He was a true Hollywood star. It radiated off him, seas parted as he walked, she watched as he drew the eye of almost every woman they passed by. And it was effortless for him. 

By the time they reached their seats, Charlotte was so taken and turned on by his energy that she did not really care to watch the game at all. She wanted to drag him back to his place and finish what they started before they left. 

She tried to resist it, resist the way lust always curled in her belly at his smirks and playful glances her way and his touch. Fuck… his hands. Even the most mundane, chaste of touches sent jolts of pleasure and longing through her body that made her want to rip his clothes off. She was just overwhelmed at times by her lust for him. It seemed to never end and was never satiated. But thankfully, she knew it was not one-sided. He seemed just as smitten and taken by her, just as turned on by the simplest of tasks, looks, and touches. 

However, one downside of fame was that she had to, at least, appear as though she was not fucking him with her eyes every five seconds. She knew they’d be on camera throughout the night, which meant a level of decorum was required of them both. However, in this honeymoon stage of their relationship where lust and longing were at their peak, decorum was a feat in and of itself. 

“This your first Lakers game, right?” 

“My first NBA game at all, any team. Another first for you to collect. I’m excited. Don’t really understand it though…” 

“Well good thing you got an expert with you.” 

She nodded and pecked him on the lips. “Good thing I do.” 

Charlotte’s body leaned into his as they settled into the game, one of his arms on the back of her seat while the other rested across her thighs. His hand gripped the meat of her outer thigh and rubbed the soft exposed skin throughout the game. Every so often, he’d lean over and whisper facts or explain things in her ear, his basketball and Lakers knowledge appeared limitless. 

She settled back and watched the game and watched Michael and Kevin Hart who sat next to her. They were both thoroughly invested in the game in a way Charlotte was not but found more entertaining to watch than the game itself. They were hilarious and animated, acting as if they were coaches on the sideline instead of spectators. But she imagined it felt that way to them watching from their seats, up close and personal.

Michael’s tutorials throughout the game did not stick, Charlotte too taken by his voice and the discreet but sensual touches on her thigh to retain any of the information coming out of his mouth. By the time halftime started, she realized she had little to no idea what was even happening in front of her as her mind had floated away thinking about the bliss that awaited her when she and Michael finally got home. 

They both started chatting and joking around with Kevin Hart and his date as halftime progressed, their conversation cut short by cheering throughout the crowd. The two couples glanced up to find the Kiss Cam on the Jumbotron. It caught a few unsuspecting couples, each one playing along and offering a very cute but conservative kiss for the cameras. 

“Awwww… they’re really cute,” Charlotte whispered to Michael, pointing at one elderly couple.

However, she was shocked to look up again and find the camera suddenly on them, the Jumbotron already having their names across the bottom of the screen.

Michael leaned in and whispered, “What do you say we give ‘em a show?” 

She pretended to contemplate as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to kiss him, which made him scrunch his face up in faux offense. She laughed and gave him a quick peck before the announcer called out their chaste kiss. 

“You two can do better than that!” 

Michael’s finger went to her chin, lifting her gaze to his, before he grinned and pressed his lips against hers. It was sensual and slow but still tamed as he knew the entire stadium watched. However, she savored the few seconds it lasted. His lips lingered against hers for a moment, such a featherlike touch that let her know he was exercising extreme control and restraint. 

Her legs tightened together as they pulled away, offering a polite wave to the crowd before the camera moved on to spotlight another couple. 

“What’d you say we get outta here before the fourth quarter?” He whispered in her ear, his intentions clear with every word. 

“I’d say even that’s too long but I’ll manage.” 

“Y’all two are nasty,” Kevin remarked, teasing the couple, which caused both of them to turn their heads in embarrassment. “Been a couple in public for 10 minutes and don’t know how to act. Get some couth about you, damn.” 

What came next were the longest 12 minutes of Charlotte’s life. Followed by the longest car ride of her life and the longest walk into Michael’s house. By the time they entered, they did not even make it to his bedroom. They just stumbled into his kitchen, their limbs moving on pure muscle memory through his dark house and into the kitchen. As soon as his hand met the counter, he hoisted her up and got on his knees between her legs.

However, before he could hook one leg over his shoulder to continue worshiping her, she sat up. 

“No,” she shook her head, pulling his face to hers. “I don’t want that. I want to taste you.”

He stood up, allowing her to fall to her knees below him, licking her lips as she unbuckled his jeans. She had been dreaming about this for the last hour. It had taken her a few days to get over her own hangups about giving head. She was good at it but it was a chore to her. Now she laughed at how nervous she had been the first time, surprised that Michael laid back and gave her complete control. Control over his pleasure and the pace. Since then, she found the act made her feel powerful and sexy. She had control, his pleasure at her mercy, and she loved every second of it. And she could tell he did too. It was far from a chore to her now, it was something she looked forward to and craved almost as much as Michael did.

She started off slow, the tip of her tongue lightly licking the underside of his dick. She basked in every moment of it as if he was the best lollipop she had ever tasted in her life. She gathered all the moisture in her mouth and spit on his dick, her spit sliding down his shaft. She slid her lips over the head, just taking the tip of him and sucking lightly as her hand massaged him, spreading her spit along his length. She could feel him twitch beneath her, a groan escaping his lips. 

“Don’t tease me, baby.” 

“Not enjoying a taste of your own medicine?” She asked, reminding him of his little game earlier that almost had her weeping for release. 

He chuckled, nodding. “Aight. But when you don’t get a break later, I don’t wanna hear shit.” 

“I think you’re underestimating how much I like a challenge, baby.” 

She grinned before enveloping his length into her warm, wet mouth. Though she wished she could tease him, the reality was… she lacked his patience. She wanted to feel him cum and not even proving a point would stop her. She kept her eyes trained on him, loving his facial expressions as she sucked him. His eyes were the most expressive, windows into his soul. And when she was on her knees beneath him, she saw it all: desire, bliss, pleasure, pride, and love.

Her eyes watered as she worked to accommodate him, light and lewd gagging noises filled his kitchen. She was thankful for weekends like this when his parents went back to New Jersey because they could utilize the many surfaces and rooms throughout his house with no fears of interruptions. Lazy sex on the couch while watching a movie? Say less. A quickie bent over the counter while they cooked dinner? More of that, please. 

“You take me so well,” he moaned, his hand twisted in her curls. As much as he wanted to take the reigns and fuck her throat, he restrained himself, allowing her to maintain the pace and control she wanted. “You like sucking this dick?”

He could tell she lit up at his praise, a moan vibrating around him as she nodded.

“You look so fuckin’ sexy… that’s right, Els. Take all this dick, baby.” 

He panted lightly as Charlotte increased her efforts. Her gagging and slurping sounded filthy as it grew louder and louder as she sucked him, sneaking gasps of air every chance she got. 

“I’m g-gonna cum,” he warned her, Charlotte increasing the intensity for a few moments until she felt him bust down her throat. He held her head against him for a moment as she swallowed before releasing her, both of them panting for a moment. However, he did not give her much time for a break. 

He did not even give her a chance to strip down before he helped her to her feet and pushed her, face down, onto the counter. She hissed as her bare arms came in contact with the cold granite, thankful she still had her dress on though it was now bunched around her waist. He did not even take her thong off this time, he just pushed it to the side.

She moaned as he filled her, his nails digging into the skin of her hips. There was nothing slow and sensual about it. This was pure fucking. Fast. Rough. Uninhibited. Their bodies were the other’s drug and they were in an outright chase to get their fix of each other.

She used her forearms as leverage to throw her ass back to meet every thrust, not allowing him to do all of the work and proving she still had some stamina to play with. However, Michael would never be outdone so he lifted one of her legs and pressed it against the counter. 

Charlotte let out a gasp at the position, the stretch of her hips and how deep she could feel every stroke. All she could do was pant and beg for more as he fucked her fast and deep, her one leg almost giving out beneath her as she came around him. But his grip and strength kept her standing as always. 

“I’m cl-close, baby. You want me to cum in this pussy??” 

Lost in the clouds of lust and desire, Charlotte did not quite calculate the long term implications of that statement. She could only think minutes ahead and she wanted to feel him fill her.

“Y-Yes,” she moaned. 

She let out a content sigh as she felt him fill her, warmth spreading inside her. Her arms collapsed beneath her for a moment as Michael leaned against the counter opposite of her, his eyes never leaving her ass, which was still perched high in the air for him. 

As the haze left them both, realization seemed to hit them both like a train. 

“You took your birth control today, right?” He asked, scratching his head as Charlotte immediately busted out laughing. 

“You know, I feel like it would’ve been smarter to ask that before you came inside me?” She joked, pushing her dress back down her thighs and adjusting her underwear. “But yes, I took it. We,” her voice dragged out the word as she contemplated before deciding it was better to be safe than sorry. “Should still probably pick up some Plan B though… unless you want an oops baby?” 

He let out a belly laugh. “If I’m gonna have an oops baby, I’d want it to be with you.” He kissed her on the cheek. 

“Awwww,” her lips twisted into a little pout. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She kissed him. “But we are definitely going to get the Plan B,” she whispered against his lips. “Can’t have your mom and the rest of the world thinking I’m a whore trying to trap you. Put on your shoes.” 

He groaned, his body exhausted, “We gotta go right now?? Isn’t it a ‘morning after’ pill? Like it’s still gonna be effective in the morning right?” 

She nodded, teetering on her heels. “Yes,” she admitted. “But… I’m starvinggggg. So on the way back from the drug store, we’d already be out and we could stop by… In & Out Burger?” 

“I can’t eat that stuff… my diet remember, babe?” 

“Come onnnnnn… one cheat meal for me?? We just put in serious work just now, Bakari. We earned a few extra calories.” 

He laughed, knowing his trainer would not accept such flawed logic. “Fine but when Calliet gets on my ass tomorrow, you’ll owe me.” 

“Deal.” She pulled him in flush to her body. She nippled lightly on his ear, teasing his favorite spot for a moment before whispering. “Tomorrow, I’ll give you a massage.” 

“I dunno if that’s gonna be enough.” 

She offered him a sly smirk. “Well, I’m sure I can get creative about how to make these calories worth it.”  

He nodded and grabbed his car keys. “Come on. I already got some ideas I can tell you in the car.” 

Tag list: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh

***

A/N: I hope this helps ease the pain! And I'll go ahead and write some fluff to accompany part 10 cause y'all are just gonna hate me again lmaooooo

Drop a comment and let me know what you thought!

[arianatwycross]

Insult

my first wolfstar fic - thanks to the prompt 'insult' from @wolfstarmicrofic. It's also the 25th where I am so here we go :)

He’s late. 

His date is late and his palms are too sweaty to even grasp his wine glass. He grips the ache between his eyes with his fingers, the pressure of a stress headache already making itself known. 

Why did he agree to this? With a famous footballer as well? What was he thinking? 

He wasn’t entirely thrilled that James had shown his best mate who happens to be one of the best football players in the country his Instagram - he wasn’t a model in any shape or form and his Instagram clearly highlighted that (being just drunken photos from his Uni days and a few fairly nice ones of Lily and him). He hadn’t a clue why someone like him would want to ask out a run-down, exhausted Doctor, who spends most of his weekends in A&E. But then, Sirius had messaged him all sweet and unassuming, and mentioned a small vegetarian restaurant nearby and Remus sort of forgot about his celebrity status and said yes. 

He just hopes James didn’t mention the seven posters Remus had up in his childhood bedroom of his date - how would you make small talk knowing that?! Do you admit to the posters and jerseys at home, do you pretend you’ve never watched a game in your life? And by watch, he doesn’t mean the football, he means the players…

No more time to think - Sirius Black just arrived. 

“Remus?” 

“Uh-yeah, hi” Remus stumbles up from his chair, cursing inwardly at his inability to just stand up straight like a normal person. 

Sirius grins widely, eyes falling down and then up again as he checks his date out. It makes Remus feel hot and flustered, his shoulders tensing underneath his knitted jumper. Sirius had walked in, in his usual getup - black leather jacket, white tee and black jeans - however he makes it look just as classy as the restaurant they’re in.. When Sirius steps forward to kiss his cheek in greeting, Remus stands stock still and makes no move to greet him back, still too shell-shocked that he’s standing in front of his celebrity crush.  Instead of being put off by Remus’ odd behaviour,  Sirius chuckles softly and pulls out Remus’ chair so he can sit back down with no hassle. Remus has to swallow once - to remind himself to breathe- before he sits back down gently (this time without hitting his knee on the table).  

“I am so so sorry I’m late,” Sirius starts, sitting gracefully down in his chair, “James wouldn’t let me leave before I gave him the ok on his outfit.” 

Remus must give him an odd look as Sirius chuckles before continuing, “He’s finally going on a date with Lily Evans? I think you know her?” 

Remus’ spirits lift instantly, “Oh right, she told me she finally relented, didn’t realise it was tonight though!” 

Sirius nods with a fond smile, before picking up his menu. “He’s barmy about her.” 

Remus laughs. 

“Thanks for coming,” his date says quietly. 

Remus is startled slightly by the comment, “Oh, that's ok?” He bites his bottom lip as he scans the menu’s front page in front of him - another breath- “can I admit something?” 

He probably shouldn’t, but he itches to know more.

“Sure,” Sirius looks amused now and Remus has to take a breath. He looks exactly like the poster he has on the back of his bedroom closet. Glittering dark eyes, crooked smirk. 

“I was surprised you asked for my number, off of James.” 

Sirius looks down, red painting his cheeks with a blush. He brushes a hand through his long black hair, making Remus suddenly feel too hot under his layers. 

“This is a bit embarrassing but James has talked about you before,” he smiles bashfully, and Remus instantly smiles back, surprised at his modesty, “ and well then I saw a photo of you…that kinda confirmed that I really needed to ask you out.” 

Remus blushes, but instead of the pretty red that spreads across Sirius’ face, he knows that his blush just makes him look awfully blotchy. 

“I don’t believe that.” 

“Don’t believe what?” 

“That one photo of me made you want to ask me out…” 

“Well it wasn’t just the photo. James talks about you all the time, and you just sounded so cool and then he mentioned you liked men and then I saw a photo of you and well my crush multiplied.” Sirius rambles. 

“Crush?” Remus chokes. 

Sirius smirks - Remus shifts in his seat.

“Sirius Black?” a shocked voice interrupts them.

A pimply waiter approaches them, eyes wide and hands shaking. He stares resolutely at Sirius, completely ignoring Remus. It's not until Sirius says hello that the waiter looks over at Remus. They’re in a private room at a classy vegetarian restaurant in a nice neighborhood, Remus was ready for Sirius to get noticed- as warned by James. Seeing it happen in front of him however, was unlike what he expected. 

The waiter blinks at Remus, frowns slightly before setting his sights on Sirius again, “Wow, my manager said someone famous reserved a table but you! You're like my idol.” 

Sirius smiles politely and thanks the boy, before picking up the menu. Remus follows Sirius leads and tries to read but is distracted by the odd feeling of someone watching him. 

He looks up to find the waiter still looking at him. Remus raises an eyebrow. 

“You on a date?” 

Is this how waiters act at classy restaurants? 

Sirius frowns - maybe not then. 

“Yes, but aren’t you here to take my order?” 

Remus quickly looks down at his menu. 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. It’s just - well…” 

“Yes?” Sirius snaps, making Remus look up in shock. His light eyes are narrowed and his chest has puffed up - he should be turned off by his temper but instead Remus finds it slightly arousing. 

“Isn’t he a little out of your league?” 

A beat. 

Sirius stands up abruptly, shoves the menu in the waiter's hands and calmly offers Remus his hand. Remus follows suit, standing up and sliding his palm into Sirius’ - the warmth sending a tingle up his spine. 

“Not that it's any of your business - but this man has single handedly, saved thousands of lives, has adopted two dogs- one that only has three legs, and regularly puts up with a man child, that honestly, would probably not have graduated university if not for him. This man is probably the most attractive man I’ve ever met. And you, honestly, you should be fired but I’m going to let you off and just ignore the first ten minutes of what’s supposed to be the best date ever.” 

The teenager gapes at Sirius, drops the menus from his chest and shuffles quickly out the room without a word, leaving Remus to stare at the empty space he vanished from and digest Sirius’ tirade.  

“How do you know all that?” he finally asks, slightly breathless. 

“Like I said, James talks about you a lot.” Sirius replies quietly. 

Another beat of silence. 

“Do you like hot chocolate?” 

“Of course.” Remus replies, raising an eyebrow and Sirius’ mischievous grin. 

“I know a good cafe down the road, want to try again?” 

[somnambulant-seraphim]

I always LOVE seeing customized Furbies, whether it’s more simple or extreme cutomizations, I’ve always admired and wanted to be more involved in the Furby Community. For a while, I didn’t quite know how to go about it, especially with deciding on how I would customize a faceplate, but I’ve recently been able gather the materials and figure things out. So here’s my first ever Furby!!! (つ >▽< )つ ·₊˚☆

I definitely view him as some sort of oracle or prophet, so I’ll call them ⋆*⊹☽⍋  Scryer  ⍋☾⊹*⋆ especially because of how it’s eyes look similar to scrying mirrors. 

It may be a little trivial and unimportant, but I usually try to incorporate the pronouns of my creations in the paragraphs I write about them in my posts. But to state it a little clearer just because ¯\_ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ_/¯ (and for my sake in remembering), I’m feeling like xe/xem/xir (or xyr), he/him, it/its and they/them are what fit well (plenty of other neopronouns would fit well too, but that would be kind of a long list to write, so these are the main ones I have in mind). 

He has a very obvious cryptid-theme as well, and I was particularly inspired by the jackalope. For a while, I was thinking of giving them a pair of long rabbit ears to really lean into the jackalope theme, but I decided that would probably be a bit too busy, in terms of potential visual clutter. 

⍋ ☾ ⍋ O ⍋ ☽ ⍋ ☾ ⍋ O ⍋ ☽ ⍋ ☾ ⍋ O ⍋ ☽ ⍋ ☾ ⍋ O ⍋ ☽ ⍋

Using photo references, I made the faceplate, antlers and feet with polymer clay, the antlers also have wire in them for strength. Xir eyes are two black glass marbles. I made the eyelids separately from the rest of the face at first, I modeled them around the marbles, then carefully pulled them off (retaining the shape) and baked them with the other clay components. The ears, antlers and faceplate have wire sticking out of the ends to aid in attatching them to the body securely (I actually stuck the external wire in after baking, but it would have been best to add the wire beforehand). 

After baking the clay, I gave everything a few coats of paint (especially because it took me a few tries to get the colours right). I made the ears out of brown felt on the inner part, and some furry yarn layed and glued around he edges and along the back side. After the parts were finished and assembled, I hot glued them onto his body. 

The body it a simple oblong, rounded shape that I crocheted with furry yarn, since I didn’t have any furry fabric. I’ve used this same yarn in quite a few other projects before, but I got a lot of it for a past birthday and it’s what I have ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I also stuffed the body with some rocks near the bottom, to keep it weighed down and avoid top-heaviness. The clay feet also help keep balance. 

⍋ ☾ ⍋ O ⍋ ☽ ⍋ ☾ ⍋ O ⍋ ☽ ⍋ ☾ ⍋ O ⍋ ☽ ⍋ ☾ ⍋ O ⍋ ☽ ⍋

I’m really proud of how xe turned out! It made me really happy and excited to see it all coming together, and the final result is much more than I could have hoped for!!!  Σ>―(〃^ω^〃)→ ♡♡♡

I definitely would like to make another Furby in the future, ESPECIALLY a long Furby. Once I’m able to find a decent amount of furry fabric that I like, that will FOR SURE be a project that I’ll want to do. 

[garbinge]

A Very Ugly Tie

Jax Teller & OFC Joanne Teller 

Day 06 from these April Prompts: “A very ugly tie”

Word Count: 1.5k 

Summary: Joanne and Jax get ready for their father’s funeral. 

Warnings: Angsty, mentions of death, funerals, mourning. This is sad. But I tried not to get too heavy. 

A/N: Joanne Teller has been on my mind a lot so here’s a little snippet from the two Teller siblings' life before their adult craziness. This can fit as a little prequel to Charming Life, but no need to read the multichap to read this! That being said, I’ll still be using my Charming Life Taglist for these one shots!

Charming Life Taglist: @drabbles-mc @livingdeadblondequeen​ @justreblogginfics

Staring at the photos that were tucked and taped on her mirror was sending her back in time. A simpler time. One where she still felt her innocence. Where her father was still alive. Despite it being November, the California sun made the weather comfortably warm, but Joanne was anything but comfortable. The sheer curtains were blowing quietly as the breeze from the window came in, it sent a light shiver down her spine. Quickly, she turned to grab the black shawl to go over her black dress. Figuring out what to wear to her father’s funeral was finding itself to be harder than she thought, although maybe the issue was that she hadn’t given it much thought at all. Being the oldest Teller sister, most of the responsibility of the funeral fell on her. Gemma helped, but she was so far up Clay’s ass and fake mourning that Joanne was forced to step up. 

She stared at herself in the mirror for a minute, taking in her outfit at the shawl fell down her shoulders exposing her shoulders along with the half started tattoo sleeves that ran down her arms. With a sigh, she grabbed a hair tie and pulled her blonded streaked black hair back into a ponytail. 

“Guess this is as good as it’s gonna get.” She mumbled to herself and grabbed her bag off the bed before tossing it over her shoulder and taking one last look around to make sure she grabbed the book her father had recently finished that she stole from the living room. War and Peace. It was something the two of them did, a little unspoken tradition. JT always had his head in a book and when he’d read the last sentence on the last page, he’d close it, lean back, sigh and place it on the corner of the coffee table and move on to the next. The following day, the book would be gone because it was in Joanne’s room. It was a way she’d feel connected to her father, occasionally they’d talk about the books, the way they understood the themes, the symbolism, sometimes they’d have similar perspectives, sometimes completely different ones. 

Joanne was a few chapters into it, the weight the thousand paged book carried was a lot heavier now that JT was dead. None of it made sense. She tossed the book back on her nightstand and moved over to her bookshelf and grabbed another book. The first one Joanne had taken from her father when she was 12. Yellow Eyes. A book about a beautiful and cruel mountain lion who was left orphaned in the wild and how the obstacles and harshness of life taught him to be strong and fierce. It was meant for a young reader, which is probably why JT left it out for a young Joanne, but it truly shaped her into the woman she was. Gemma liked to take credit for her daughter’s fierceness but Jo knew it came from her father. 

She grabbed the book and placed it into her bag before leaving her bedroom and making her way down the hallway. The house was quiet, Gemma was likely already at the funeral home, soaking in every minute of the attention, which left Jo and Jax alone at the house. 

Jo stopped at Jax’s door which was slightly open, she lightly knocked before pushing it open a little more. Jax was standing in front of the floor length mirror which was covered in Harley stickers and cutouts of pin-up models. He was frustrated as he attempted to knot the tie around the collar of his shirt, failing for what was probably the millionth time. 

“I can’t fuckin’ do this.” He was 16, he never had to learn how to tie a tie. He was the son of the president of a Motorcycle club, despite having gone to a funeral before, one for his few day old brother, the most dressed up he had gotten was a polo shirt for some school event and the club definitely teased the young boy about it. For Thomas’ funeral, it was intimate, short, and very sad, but there wasn’t a need for proper attire since it was done at the hospital day of his passing. 

Jo walked over to her younger brother, tossing her bag on his messy unmade bed before moving right in front of him. The irony here was that JT probably should have been the one to teach Jax how to properly do this but now it was up to Joanne. 

“The key is to have the narrow side on the left and a little higher.” Jo said as she fidgeted with the tie and started looping and knotting. 

Just as she finished she grabbed his shoulders and turned him to the mirror to get a look at himself. His face said it all. 

“Why the fuck am I wearing this stupid shit.” Jax moved away to his desk and slapped his lamp off of it in frustration. 

“Come here.” Joanne shook her head and met her brother halfway. She started to loosen the tie and take it off over his head before fixing the collar of his black button up shirt,  “It was an ugly tie anyway.” 

“What are we supposed to do?” Jax asked as Joanne stepped back. 

“We finish getting ready, Opie picks us up, we bury our father, and then we drink at the clubhouse.” Jo looked at Jax with a blank face.

“But–” Jax started to argue. She knew that wasn’t the answer he was looking for or even the question he was asking.

 “That’s all I got, little brother.” Joanne shook her head. “That’s all I got.” She sat down on his desk chair and started to swivel around in it. 

“Why’s Ope picking us up?” Jax plopped in front of Jo on his bed. 

“Gemma’s at the funeral home already soaking in the sympathy, I didn’t want to drive so I called Opie.” Jo explained. 

There was silence between them for a good few minutes. Jax was deep in thought, Jo could tell because he looked like JT. It made her smile. 

“Would you be mad if I took my bike?” Jax didn’t bother looking at his sister, he was staring either out of the window that was above the headboard of his bed or at the Harley poster directly to the right of it. 

“No, I think that’d be good.” Jo nodded. “I–uh, I’m gonna bring something to put in the casket. Just somethin’ stupid. It’s a book.” Her head shook as her hands came up to wipe her eyes even though there was no sign of any tears. 

“‘S’not stupid, Jo.” Jax’s voice had confidence behind it, something that was missing lately. “I mean, c’mon. That was dad’s thing with you.” He shrugged and then let out a chuckle. “I remember coming to the clubhouse after school one day and you were sitting in the garage next to Dad as he worked on the bike, nose deep into one of the million fuckin’ books he gave you and you looked up and said to Dad, ‘this is the most boring fucking book I have ever read.’” 

Joanne laughed, she knew immediately which book it was from the story Jax told. 

“The Fountainhead.” 

“I thought Dad was going to smack the shit out of you.” Jax grinned. 

“He’d never.” Joanne matched his smile. “I’m pretty sure he turned around and said, ‘sometimes reading is less about the pages you’re turning and–’”

“‘–more about the message you’re absorbing.’” Jax finished the sentence. “I still wish he smacked you upside the head.” 

Joanne chuckled, “He saved that for you. Remember when you stole his bike in the middle of the night? Jesus Christ, I swear to this day I saw steam coming out of his ears.” 

Jax let out a belly laugh, “I took some girl to Dairy Queen.” 

The two of them laughed as they reminisced about their father. For a moment feeling like nothing had changed and that they would walk out into the main part of the house and see him sitting at the head of their kitchen table. But soon, reality came crashing down on them as the ringing of the doorbell and the sound of Opie’s voice calling out to them filled the house. 

The two siblings looked up at each other. “I guess it’s time.” Jax said standing up. 

Joanne nodded and made her way to the door of his room and slipped out, leaving her hand on the wood as she stopped walking for a moment. 

“You know, things are gonna change, Jax.” She turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. “But I want you to know, I’m here. I was here when Tommy passed, and I’m still here now.” Joanne paused for a minute to read the room, read her brother’s expression. His head was nodding and there was a small smile growing on his face to show his appreciation so she double tapped on the door with her palm, out of a nervous habit, and left him with one more sentiment. 

“And I always will be. Don’t forget that.”

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

False Sunsets

Notes: Holy shit. OC story. Wacky, huh? This is around 1′300 words, and is about my 90′s game OCs, Lawrence and Miss Panack. I’ve been thinking of them a lot. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Miss Panack had lost track of how long she had been staring at the picture.

           She sat atop a round hill, the flat, low resolution texture on it making it appear to be grass and dirt. A pre-rendered environment surrounded her, lazily modeled trees and plants being placed next to the skybox, devolving into 2D textures of real trees the further from Panack they got. Behind the fake trees and grass however was the picture she had been staring at; the skybox she had become transfixed with. It was a pixelated photo of a sunset, peeking out above the tree line.

           It was beautiful; a bright yellow sun behind pink and orange clouds, the sky turning from a reddish orange to a deep blue-purple. The colors were entrancing to Panack, feeling like a painter’s palate of the best colors one could discover. She kept staring at the sunset through her 3D modeled eyes, her left one being green, and the other being completely orange, with a spiral swirling towards the middle of it, where her pupil would’ve been. Her low-poly hands were placed on her knees, both of the hands having only four fingers, being different colors from the other. She looked as though she was crossing her arms, if she had arms in the first place instead of disembodied hands. She always wondered if it was a purposeful design choice, or the developers being lazy.

           Panack’s entire body was a cacophony of different shapes and colors; deep red and white, purple and orange, blue and yellow. Her neck and head were mostly red, with stripes of blue and yellow going up her neck. Her face was white, with little features aside from the stripe of blue looking vaguely like a nose. Her mouth was full of flat, triangular teeth, turned downwards in a frown. Her body was made up of mostly simple shapes like cones and rectangles, though her upper body, neck, and head were vaguely close to a real person’s anatomy, albeit very simplistic. Panack often wondered why she was designed that way, almost feeling like she looked like a child’s drawing. Perhaps it was supposed to reference the works of Pablo Picasso, though Panack thought they did a pretty poor job of it.

           “Awful lonely…sitting here in silence.”

           Panack was nearly startled by the soft voice behind her before settled, sighing slightly. “Leave me alone, Lawrence.” She said quietly, looking towards her feet.

           Lawrence was an admittedly more simplistic looking figure, with his head being a simple black triangular shape with eyes on the sides of it, the pupils also being triangles. His torso was an inverted cone, and his long neck was just a cylinder with a white collar on it. His thin arms and legs were covered in a “suit”, which had a red and yellow striped suit jacket, along with blue pants, gloves, and a blue bow tie; however, most of it was just the textures on his model. A small red top hat with a white ribbon tied around it floated above his head, and he was holding a striped cane with one of his blocky hands.

           “Is something wrong, Miss P?” Lawrence asked, leaning over to look Panack in the face.

           “No.” Panack wasn’t necessarily telling the truth, though she wasn’t in the mood for another conversation that led nowhere.

           Lawrence remained silent for a moment before looking back at Panack. “You know…if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m always here to chat.”

           “I…don’t want to talk right now.” Panack leaned forward slightly with a half-lidded, almost tired glare at nothing in particular. “It’s…been a long day.”

           “Really?” Lawrence asked, sitting next to Panack as he stared at her quizzically. “Didn’t think you were very busy. No one even played with us today.”

           “No one’s played with us for years, Lawrence.” Panack stared at her friend with a tinge of annoyance in her voice. “Have you been paying attention? It’s…It’s not 1995 anymore.”

           “Well, perhaps so. Though I still think there’s a chance to—”

           “God damn it, can you just admit that we’re irrelevant?” Panack interrupted, her “brows” furrowing and her green eye showing irritation. “No one cares about us anymore; we’ve been discontinued for years. We’re just in this bottom of the bin game you only find in some old box you forgot about.”

           Lawrence seemed stunned, though before Panack could think she made a good point to him, he began to speak. “Language! You do realize this game’s meant for children, correct?”

           It wasn’t even related to the matter at hand.

           Panack let out an annoyed groan before holding her knees even closer to her chest, looking away and back towards the 2D sunset in the distance. Lawrence’s eternally blank expression continued to be faced towards her before he too looked forward at the area around them. “…You…do like your job here…right?”

           Panack glanced towards him, his eye meeting her gaze before looking away once again. “I…” Panack thought for a moment before sighing deeply through lungs she didn’t have. “…Yes. Well…I guess so. I mean…I like being able to interact with them…the player I mean. Seeing the child we helped teach grow up. But…” She paused once again before shaking her head, deciding she didn’t want to go through the same conversation yet again. “…Never mind.”

           “…That’s good to hear.” Lawrence stated, not even noticing the defeated tone in her voice. He stood up, turning towards the doorway at the top of the hill, where he entered the “room” from. The doorway led to what seemed like a black void with orange and black tiled flooring, and a cityscape seemed to be the skybox of said void. However, before he entered it, Panack spoke up, her voice quiet.

           “You think they’re prettier in person?”

           Lawrence turned back towards her, tilting his head slightly.

           “The sunset.” Panack turned back towards the sunset in the distance, her voice somber. “…The colors of the clouds…the pinks, oranges and yellows…do you think they’re prettier in person?”

           Lawrence remained silent for a moment, thinking to himself as he looked at the ground. “Well…who knows, Miss P? It’s certainly possible.” Lawrence stated. “I’ve never seen one before. Though…the picture has to be just as good, right?”

           Panack didn’t think so, hunching over even more.

           Lawrence turned back towards the doorway before taking one last look at Miss Panack. “You know…you can stay here as long as you’d like, Miss P.” He said. “However, I must be going. Have to get everything ready.”

           “Ready for what?” Panack asked quietly.

           “In case anyone stops by!” Lawrence answered with his usual chipper voice. “Gotta be prepared in case the player does decide to drop in…whenever they do of course. Anyway, I’ll catch you later Miss P, and…remember I’m always here to chat. Toodleloo!”

           With that, Lawrence left, presumably to do…whatever he needed to do for the player that may never come. Panack continued to stare at the sunset in front of her, feeling a sense of sadness within her. She knew Lawrence wouldn’t understand her concerns; he never did. It was frustrating, though she knew he wasn’t a bad person. He was simply ignorant and willingly oblivious to the fact that things weren’t perfect in their little digital world. Panack was, and sometimes she wished she was as lucky as him.

           Panack sighed, lowering her head as she stared at her feet. She wished she could feel the cool air of the evening, and breathe in the fresh air. She wished she could take walks in nature, seeing and feeling the plants under her feet. She wished she could be out there, in the real world, where things weren’t made from polygons and textures. She wanted to see the sunset, she really did; and as she cried in the faint orange glow from the fake picture of one, she wondered if it was ever meant to be.

[jinxthejubilee]

Judging/Rating their Demon Forms

This is me pretending that I know anything about fashion. I've wanted to do this for the longest time, but I never got around to it. But, here we go!

Warning: I want NO real slander towards the Obey Me devs for their outfits. These are just my opinions for the fun of it, I have grown used to each of their forms.

ALSO, their demon forms look much better in their in-game cards and fan art. I'm making my judgements based on their in-game models.

So without further adieu, let's begin! Starting off with:

1) Lucifer: The old man himself.

Honestly, he ties with Asmo in terms of best designed demon form. But I put him first because I love how regal he looks.

I love the shape of his horns, not too crazy-looking and not too boring.

I'm in love with the headcanon that the diamond on his forehead was where his third eye used to be as an angel.

I like the switch from black to red for his gloves.

The little splashes of color from the peacock feathers makes it all pop.

As much as I'm saddened by the fact that he doesn't have six wings anymore, I think four wings is perfect for him.

I wonder how heavy his wings are.

10/10. Everything is put together really well. Not overly simple, but not overly complicated either. They weren't kidding with his trademark: "Perfectly flawless" (Don't get bigheaded Luci, some of your outfits don't hit that well).

2) Asmodeus: Mr. Pretty Poison

If there are three things I'm a sucker for, it's roses, heart-themed objects/clothes, and men in pink. This man has ALL THREE!!

To be honest, I didn't even realize that he had roses on his... vest? (Idk what you call that shirt), until I saw them drawn in the manga.

I like the dripping heart birthmarks/marking. His arms would look too bare otherwise.

I like how dainty the wings are. I kinda wish that they had a pink gradient on the tips, like the horns do.

The big cuffs took some getting used to, but I can't see him wearing sleeves.

I love the scorpion, such a nice design! 😍

The buckles on the pant leg are interesting. Again, it's been so long that when I imagine him wearing regular black pants, he looks naked.

9/10. It screams pretty boy, but a dangerous one.

3) Mammon: Mammoney, A.K.A. Tsundere #1

A lot of people thought Mammon was the Avatar of Lust for a while, I can definitely see why.

Such a high collar, is that just the staple for demons?

I really wish the jacket was longer. Poor bastard probably gets cold while flying.

Speaking of flying, his wings are super interesting to me. They look almost skeletal. It took me a long time to realize that the tips are yellow.

I like the markings on his chest.

Still not sure about how I feel about the boots. But hey, it might just be his thing.

So many jagged and sharp things on him.

8/10. Classy biker. Definitely the most uncomfortable-looking outfit of the bunch. Very extra, very Mammon, and very hard to draw.

4) Beelzebub: Baby Boy!! 🥺

Another popped collar?

I like the jacket, but what's with the belts on the wrists?

Not a big fan of the boots, I feel like that's Mammon's staple for outfits. Plus, he's the sporty one, so tennis shoes would be more appropriate.

Not sure what's going on in the photo, but his wings aren't supposed to be that dark.

But anyway, his wings are cool. I just hope that they're powerful enough to fly with.

I like how his horns curve inward. I don't have a real explanation for that one, I just like them.

The design on the shirt is nice. Simple, yet effective.

Wasn't a big fan of the belts in the beginning. But I do like the added color.

7/10. Not bad, just not as complex as the others, but I feel like that suits Beel really well. He's a very simple man.

5) Leviathan: Leviachan A.K.A. Tsundere #2

One would think that Levi would be the type to never show his abs. Yet, here we are.

I feel like he would be ranked higher if he got rid of the belts connecting the pants and the jacket. And if the jacket was longer.

The coral horns are cute! Though I thought the design looked a lot like deer antlers or branches.

I like the scale design on the jacket, they go well with scales on his neck.

Shoes are fine.

I commend the devs for putting scales on his tail.

Those pants look like a nightmare to draw. I'm not quite sure about their design though.

One of the few outfits that don't overwhelm you with orange.

Honestly, having orange in any of his outfits would be fine. But blue and orange are on the opposite sides of the color wheel, and the shades they use for the two colors on his clothes make it WAY too saturated. (Sorry, a little art rant here 😅).

6/10. Sorry my guy, but there's a bit too much going on here. Lots of clashing.

6) Belphegor: Bastard Cow Man

Oh dear...

So. Many. Belts.

Like I said with Levi, he would look so much better without the belts and making the jacket longer.

I like the horse shoe, also his shoes are okay.

I don't know why he has diamond-shaped holes on his sleeves, but go off I guess?

I wish that the pants were a bit longer.

I see people complain about how baggy the pants are, but I personally don't see a problem with them. It would look weird if he was wearing fitted pants.

Fluffy tail! Perfect for smacking the flies.

I love his curled horns. I've gotten so used to them, that his head looks a bit naked without them.

4/10. It's mostly the sweater that I have problems with. The buckles are just...why? However, out of all of them, he does look the most comfortable. The second one who looks much better in the cards/art.

7) Satan: A Confusing Mess

I know, I know. Very predictable. BUT, let's look at the positives.

The fact that his horns are a mirror flip of Lucifer's is very clever.

His tail is really cool. I like the green gradient on the tail.

His shoes are...fine? I guess?

AND, I'm in the camp that loves his boa! No shame.

Alright, enough looking at the positives.

Okay, look. I understand that his outfit is meant to represent the clashing of his personality. How he presents himself as calm and collected, with poise and class. While on the flipside to that, his inner nature is chaotic and vicious thanks to his wrath.

I get it, I really do. And I appreciate that the devs tried to explain that through his design.

But GOOD. DEMON. LORD! It does not work!

The white collar looks too silly.

The belt is waaayyy too much.

I thought that the design on his chest was a cool skeleton thingy. Nope! Those are bows. Which just makes it make even less sense.

Btw, did you guys know that his animal symbol is a unicorn? Are you guys seeing it? Because I sure don't.

And the pants...sigh...the pants...do I even need to say anything? Why would you put white polka dots on them?!

2/10. This takes clashing to a whole other level. Definitive brother with the outfit that looks so much better in art.

YES!! I did it! Sheesh, that took a while. Again, I apologize for my stupidity in not saving my first draft of this. Unfortunately, I couldn't remember some of the jokes I made, but I hope it was still fun to look through.

Much love and respect to the team. Regardless of how odd their outfits are in any event, they are always a joy to see (and potentially laugh at). And I've gotten used to the Devildom's taste in fashion. Satan still haunts me though...

Anyway! Which form do you guys think is the best? I'm really curious. With that being said, I hope you all have a great night, and I'll see you later! Byeee! 💗