#chevron mustache

[frenchfrywrites]

Peeling at my fucking wallpaper, sweating, growling and moaning thinking about trey with a mustache

[zangtangimpersonator]

a short ImageFX prompt collection

(they're basically just bing prompts with tiny adjustments. also, i tested the ones i'd tried yesterday and already many are gone. And it suffers the early Bing problem of "if you aren't from a european country you're probably too controversial to be portrayed", though I've found if you precede it with an Acceptable location, it can do the job. so "London-Arabic" will slip by, for example.)

his shirt is neatly buttoned but very tight, 30 year old charming Italian rugby player policeman with a slick haircut, massively overweight. he has a extremely large round and wide belly. his big belly is hanging down in front of him. reaching down to the ground. he is built extremely wide and tall. he has fallen and is kneeling on another man on a concrete floor, squashing him, wearing white british police shirt and black clipon tie, black cargo pants (ImageFX seems to be very literal, and "his shirt is neatly buttoned but very tight" can make a lot of difference)

full length photo, his shirt is neatly buttoned but very tight , hugely exaggerated belly ruggedly handsome redneck slick fade haircut, strong large man,double chin, thick chevron mustache,with an enormous octuplet pregnant belly sticking out in front of him, his belly is so big, wearing a white formal shirt, plain black tie, and black formal pants, walking on the set of a dating gameshow, charming concerned frown from Qatar ("redneck" did seem to make them fatter, oddly. just adding the country at the end was also an option. Make use of the aspect ratio settings, they can contribute a lot too.)

catalogue photo supine sideview color photo of a rugby fatboy wearing white shorts, he is smothered by his oversized stomach a cramped bariatric room , slick fair hair, short chevorn mustache, he has a extremely large round and wide belly. he is laid flat reclining on a bariatric bed hoist in a hospital, his pregnant belly rises up in front of him like a waterballoon, in front of him his belly rests on the floor,massively overweight. he is so large he looks like a balloon with arms and legs. his belly is so large it rises 3 metres above him and brushes the cieling. his absurdly huge belly is being examined by a handsome 20 year old Portuguese doctor with a mustache

movie still of a comic scene in a parody about a round man whose arms aren't long enough to reach past his belly, his shirt is neatly buttoned but very tight, 30 year old charming Italian sumo policeman with a slick haircut, massively overweight. he is resting on top of the massive ball of his extremely large round and wide belly. he is so large he looks like a balloon with arms and legs. his belly is so large it raises him 2 metres into the air. he is planking and trying to reach down to the ground past his 3 metre radius spherical belly. he is built extremely wide and tall. he has doing pushups on a training field, wearing white british police shirt and black clipon tie, black cargo pants

movie still of a comic scene in a parody color photo, hugely obese men with hugely bloated bellies that fill the space to the floor, round bellies, pregnant bellies,chevron mustache, formally dressed London-Arabic fatboy policemen, military flattop haircut, arms crossed, he is so large he looks like a balloon with arms and legs. his belly is so large it raises 2 metres into the air. with their arms folded, short arms, wearing a white buttoned shirt, black clipon tie, black cargo pants, on a stage in a small theatre about to perform a moody dance, 35mm film

("adjusting their ties/locker room")

photo of a man so fat he is blocking access with his belly,his belly presses against both walls, smirk two fat men pushing past single file in a narrow cramped corridor, arm around waist, 30 year old fat strong massachussets rugby player sumo with a hugely distended round beerbelly, wearing ballooned white casual security guard shirt with black epaulettes and black clipon tie, whispering to each other, short mustache, he is so wide and round he looks like a balloon with arms and legs. his exaggerated belly is so large it raises 12 metres into the air. his exaggerated belly is so absurdly swollen and wide it blocks the corridor.

photo of a sleeping male lead actor who has been inflated so fat he is lying down and unable to get up, he is supine reclining being rescued on a stretcher by 4 men, smirk two bodyguards patting his stomach in a narrow cramped entryway, 30 year old fat American sumo with a hugely distended round beerbelly, wearing ballooned white casual security guard shirt with black epaulettes and black clipon tie, whispering to each other, short auburn mustache, he is so wide and round he looks like a balloon with arms and legs. his exaggerated belly is so large it raises 12 metres into the air. his exaggerated belly is so absurdly swollen and wide

photo of a fallen male lead actor who has been inflated so fat his belly rises high up over his legs like a mountain, he is lying down flat and unable to get up with his belly resting on his strong legs, he is supine reclining being rescued on a horizontal stretcher by smirk two british bodyguards patting his stomach. his massive stomach swells like dough, his belly is inflated and rising above him at a festival

I feel like ImageFX is much easier to prompt for than Bing, so it should be straightforward to cannibalize bits of these ideas and make them into what you want.

[honeybunhottie]

new story idea! are yall in?

You’ve always wanted a close knit friend group. Your entire life, it seems like you’ve spent longing for one. And one day, you believe you’ve found it! Only for your world to be completely turned topsy turvy when they not so accidentally sacrifice you during a camping trip gone wrong.

Suddenly you wake up and it’s 2013 again. Flappy Bird is the hottest new game, everyone is doing the Harlem Shake, and vines and dodge memes are the pinnacle of humor. Mustaches and Chevron are everywhere, and "Keep Calm and blah blah blah" sayings are on everything.

You don’t remember much from this year, but everything seems a little off. It’s like everything is a little to the left. You take it as nostalgia clouding your memory and decide to just coast along. You'll invest in bitcoin and become a youtuber or something. Everything is going perfect, your plan aligning until your first day at your new high school that your 'not parent' parents enrolled you in. It's been a couple of months of you working non-stop at Starbucks, you're feeling established, you even got a cute owl necklace to be fashion backwards forward! The day itself was going well, until a slightly younger Sam Giddings is giving you a mini tour of the school.

Oh shit.

You were desperate for a friend group, yes. But not THAT desperate. They barely even like each other! Most of them ended up dead in your playthroughs, and it was basically at the hands of their friends! Every. Single. Time.

Well, except that one time with the remaster. You somehow managed to keep everyone alive. Not a great track record though! Especially if you somehow got thrown into this now VERY real life weird game mix.

It should be obvious how to avoid calamity here, there’s even a few options! Beg your 'not parent' parents to transfer you to another school? Okay that was a fail, its only been two days of the semester, but fear not, there’s other ways to avoid certain death! Beg your counselor to switch your classes? This one works a little TOO good, and now all of your classes have at least one cast member in them. Your last hope is to ignore and avoid them,  entirely denying their existence in the first place. You think that it'll be easy enough...

Except you never stood a chance. Not when Sam looks at you with that amused quirk of her lip when you trip over your words as her lab partner. Not when Jess hits your arms incessantly as she laughs at your sarcastic responses. And certainly not when Josh throws his arm around your shoulder, treating you like he’s known you for years despite your short time together. These guys were crazy! They were insane in the game! Why are they growing on you? This just doesn't make sense!

Except it does.

Because here’s the thing: 

If the universe was working overtime to send you here through your possibly a cult old friend group, maybe this is life’s weird way of answering your years of tears and begging for a group of people to love and be loved back by.

And there's nothing wrong with that! You're allowed to have some fun in your life!!! You can totally just cruise on by with them, go to a few parties and sleepovers here and there, then say no to the lodge hangouts. Maybe you’ll visit your 'not grandma' grandma across the country?

Except that plan becomes doomed as well. Very inconveniently, your 'not grandma' grandma dies a month before your planned visit. Your 'not parent' parents are heading out of town that weekend for their anniversary. And possibly the most damming and inescapable of all, you’ve grown quite attached to the Washington sisters.

How could you, in good conscience, leave them to their fate without at least trying to save them? These people, YOUR friends, who you’ve exchanged hearts with? You’ve got to at least attempt it. That's what friends do!

So hit the gym! And take up a weird outdoorsy sport or two. There’s roughly 6 months until the events of the prologue take place, and you aren’t going down without a fight.

[noelbobby]

Here we have a non-binary person named Waters. Waters is a rare person indeed as I wrote a physical description before drawing them. I shall share it now: They have short black hair, dark eyes, dark skin, a well-trimmed chevron mustache and thin black framed rectangular glasses. They have cultivated the most expected attire and look of an office worker, wearing a short-sleeved white shirt with a black tie and trousers. Waters would find that description acceptable. Sexuality statement time, Waters is a sex-repulsed aromantic asexual.

[moonogre]

@unfriendlyamazon, got inspired to write this after chatting with you about The Substance and Nosferatu! @alectoperdita, thank you as ever for babysitting my unhinged nonsense.

🩸

SEEKING MALE 18-25 - FIT, DISCRETE & IN GOOD HEALTH FOR LUCRATIVE OPPORTUNITY. INTERESTED PARTIES TEXT 454.637.0505 WITH YOUR NAME, DOB AND A FULL BODY PHOTO.  

And so came this bizarre screening appointment in the diner out near the airport. The joint’s thick windows were dingy with dust, daybreak beyond the glass blurry and dull as dishwater. A pilot, wilted from fatigue, nursed a coffee, its burnt smell reaching Jounouchi seated two booths back. Nearby, a baggage handler tucked into a plate of sticky pancakes, bogged with syrup. Jounouchi’s head throbbed against the rising sickishness of a hangover. He wrapped his knuckles against the tabletop– scuffed formica, its once cheery pink dimmed with wear and time. Bleached blush and anemic now– it reminded Jounouchi of the pallid, thin skin of a worm. Gross. His belly shuddered with queasiness. Why did this all feel so… skeezy? He scowled and checked his phone: four percent, five fifty-six in the morning, Saturday April 12th. Thank you for your application, Katsuya. We would like to conduct a preliminary assessment. Are you available tomorrow at six a.m.? He’d gotten the message late last night at Honda’s party, well into a mickey, a cute girl from Honda’s engineering class smiling against his throat, her soft hands creeping coy under the hem of his shirt, near his belt buckle. Sure, where at? It hadn’t proved hard to pass the time, until the mystery meeting: cocooned from the racket of the get together in Honda’s spare bedroom, the only thing aside their coupling in the muted dark a slice of light beneath the closed door, harsh as a brand. He’d had her mouth on her for half an hour before the raucous calmed and the light went out, and darkness swallowed the room. She was wet enough to take him now, and then they spent a few hours against each others flesh. Easy until the five a.m. alarm, and he peeled himself from her. Where was he off too, so early, she’d murmured from her sleep. 7112 Airport Drive. A diner before the exit for the International terminal. 

It was six now. Jounouchi's ill-placed impatience tended him: jitters, clenched jaw, he picked at a scabbed hangnail on his pointer finger. A headache steady in its slow, wounding bloom. Maybe he could go outside for a quick smoke… but then the door opened with a delicate chime, and in brisked an old man in a ritzy suit, jet-black. Dark browline sunglasses, lenses a strange matte that utterly hid his eyes. Clean shaven save a chevron mustache, neat atop his lips. They quirked in a smile for a moment– friendly, but something else too– and he strode straight for Jounouchi and sat across from him. 

“Katsuya, I hope I haven’t kept you long. Can I get you anything?” He raised his hand to signal the waitress, who looked over before heaving a sigh and trekking slowly towards them. 

Jounouchi’s brow furrowed a moment. What did he want? An answer to why the fuck I’m here. “Coffee’s fine, thanks.” 

“Any way you take your coffee?” 

The pilot stood and dumped a few crumpled yen on the counter before bidding the waitress goodbye with a tired wave, wheeling his carry-on behind him as he breezed out. Jounouchi thought back to the acrid sour of the man’s coffee. His stomach curdled. “Lots of sugar. And creamer.” The stranger cocked an eyebrow and then a sudden strange silence chasmed between them. Near its bottom seemed judgment. Jounouchi bristled. “I-Is that okay, or…?”  

The waitress had reached them now, bored with a dog-eared notepad. The stranger spoke: “One coffee, with cream and sugar for my friend here. And I’ll take warm water with lemon, and one boiled egg.” The waitress waited for a moment, and when it became obvious no other requests were forthcoming, she grimaced in scornful confusion. “That’s everything?” 

“Yes,” the man spoke, before adding a chilly “Thank you.” She shrugged and went on her way. His attention returned to Jonouchi. “Katsuya, thank you for making time so early in the day. I wanted to go over some rudimentary questions to progress your application–” 

“Sure,” Jounouchi blurted, and the man’s brows rose, again, unnervingly. He felt shame rushing to ruddy his face but continued. “That’s fine. I’ll answer whatever but it’s just… what’s your name?” 

The man laughed. “You’re right. Pardon my rudeness. My name is Isono.” Jounouchi’s hands suddenly felt clammy. He was definitely going to be sick. The waitress chose just then to return: his coffee, dun brown and filled to the brim, cream curdled apart and drifting in small, white clots across its surface. Isono’s water steamed slightly, and he brandished a knife– pewter unlustred with tarnish– in a swift TAP against his boiled egg, nestled in a porcelain eggcup. The shell cracked clean across on contact, and he plucked the wet, smooth flesh from its casing and fed it whole into his mouth. Jounouchi’s stomach roiled and for some reason, he took to his coffee as though it would help. 

“As I was saying, Katsuya, I wanted to ask you some questions to expedite your application. Let’s start with confirming some basic details. You’re eighteen?” Jounouchi nodded, bitter coffee flooding his mouth. The cream hadn’t cut the harsh taste and instead made the whole brew feel oily. It silked down his throat. “Can I see some identification please?” 

The fuck. “Are you some kinda fucking cop? Or–” 

“No, just thorough.” Isono smiled. “My employer was quite pleased with your submission. He asked that I be rigorous in my assessment and remove as many barriers as possible.” Jounouchi glared at Isono before fishing his wallet out of his pants and handing over his driver’s licence. The man glanced it over– maybe, it was hard to tell with his eyes obscured with sunglasses– and nodded, before taking out his phone to photograph it. “Hey–” Jounouchi started, hotly, but Isono pushed the tiny plastic with his tiny little picture back to him, and interrupted: “Thank you, Katsuya. We have very secure servers and your information will be deleted once your application is confirmed and the interview complete.” Jounouchi frowned, migraine drawn taught between his temples. He tensed his hand around his coffee mug, now half full. “I only have a few follow ups. Please answer as honestly as you can–”

“What the fuck is this for?” Jounouchi ground out, but Isono ignored him to continue his questioning.

“Do you own a microwave? How often do you use it?” Jounouchi was taken aback, lost suddenly in a memory, from a year ago: Honda, check this out, he’d said, slipping an old American DVD they’d gawked at in middle school– Girls Gone Wild: Sweet Eighteen– onto the grease-splattered turntable in his kitchen microwave, bottom side up, easing the door shut with minute timer. Dim tungsten lit the slowspinning disc and then SHARP BRIGHT CRACKLING, sparks arcing wildly around the iridescent surface, before bursting into a ring of fire. The room stank of burning plastic. Jou dude what the FUCK– Honda had yelled, and Jounouchi had laughed. Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on this old thing, there’s better porn out now– but Honda had shoved Jounouchi out of the way to extinguish the tiny spluttering flames. The microwave wouldn’t turn on afterwards, and it took nearly two months to rid the kitchenette of the horrible burning smell. 

“Uh… nah,” Jounouchi answered, staring into his coffee. More questions followed: How many generations of your family have had natural births with no medical intervention? Would you say you bruise easily? Have you ever had a nosebleed without provocation? Are you a naturally cold person or are you quick to sweat? What colour is your urine in the morning, usually? “Dude, look–” Jounouchi balked, but Isono wouldn’t entertain his squeamishness: “Just answer the question.” 

Jounouchi scowled. “I dunno, Isono, it looks like piss.” This failed to elicit anything other than silence from the man, his expression obscured by his large aviators. Who the fuck wears sunglasses inside?! “What?” Jounouchi continued, cross. “What colour is your fucking piss in the morning?” 

“Clear,” Isono answered calmly, without hesitation. “Would you be so kind as to share the colour?” 

Jounouchi’s head was throbbing. You know what? Fuck this weird ass fucking shit. He leaned back in his vinyl booth chair: the seat was cracked in some places, old dirt speckled foam peeping through the hard plastic. He smirked. “Clear. It’s clear.” An arched eyebrow appeared over Isono’s dark visors and the man turned ever so slightly– Jounouchi didn’t have to see the man’s eyes to know he was looking at his mug of coffee, down to a few grounds that swilled at the bottom of the cup. 

Just then, Isono’s phone rang. Jounouchi crossed his arms, and the man answered after the second trill: “Good morning, sir… yes, I am with Katsuya now. We’re in the final portion of the interview… I’m not sure, but I will ask and let you know… Yes, of course sir. Thank you… See you soon.” He hung up. 

Jounouchi’s irritability would not allow an interlude: “What’s that all about?” 

Isono reached into his pocket and delicately placed a black credit card on the table and signalled for the bill. “Can you accompany me now, to meet my employer? He’d like to conduct the next phase himself, in person.” 

He heard Honda’s voice in his head: Don’t go to a second location, dude! Honda had, of course, been talking about girls then, because what else did they talk about: this was his wise counsel on how to dodge the pushy ones, once the beer goggles had worn off. Jounouchi supposed Isono could count as a but-her-face, for now, and he scowled. “Listen, I didn’t sign up for all this shit–”

“You will be compensated for your time today: ¥1,500,000.” 

Jounouchi's headache gripped his mind like a vise. “…What?” 

“There will be some paperwork for you to sign, of course, about confidentiality, but we can make the transfer as early as this afternoon. Are you available? He’s eager to meet.” 

“Sure. I mean… sure.” Jounouchi could see himself, warped and far away, in the dark shine of Isono’s glasses. He looked quite small. 

“Excellent. I’ll let him know. And one last thing: if we told you that you were a perfect candidate, would you sign away any legal recourse, effective immediately?”

Jounouchi’s mouth was bitter and dry from the coffee. He screwed up his face. “…What?” It was the second time he’d asked, but the question sounded softer, even more incredulous, now. The waitress had arrived and made a face at the dark card on the table. 

“Never seen one like this before.” She turned it over in her hands. “No name or anything on it–” 

“It works,” Isono said, looking expectantly at her. She cleaved the plastic through reader at the side of the payment terminal, eyebrows lifting in surprise when a receipt spluttered out. “Well, would you look at that. Thanks for coming, boys.” 

“No, thank you.” Isono rose smoothly from the booth and turned to Jounouchi. “Katsuya, if you’ll follow me.”

[fakecrfan]

In my imagination Colin shares the same appearance as the man I saw in the car next to mine during traffic. He has a chevron mustache, is bald and has the typical physique of an adult man in his 30s-50s. Like all bald men, he has the habit of rubbing the top of his head every time he is very anxious or nervous (like this https://youtu.be/Pkf_p1XUpr4?si=bwQlIUUXMjLN5Fil)

Man I love this. No notes, you're 100% correct.

[corvidforestart]

yknow that thing where the light catches brown eyes and they glow a bit and you remember how to feel joy again? yeah

[image description: digital art of a person from the shoulders up at a 3/4ths angle with a solid gray-purple background. he has brown eyes, light tan skin, long wavy dark brown hair worn loose, and a thick chevron mustache. he is wearing a brown leather jacket, gold star shaped hoop earrings, and a silver choke chain necklace. his expression is neutral and his lips are slightly parted. sunlight is hitting his face directly from a slight up angle, creating intense shadows and a glowing effect on his eyes and hair. end ID]

[generic-whumperz]

Wyatt (Character Sheet)

Picrew

Playlist | Masterlist | Character Info |

⚠️Proceed with caution, Wyatt is a Grade-A asshole⚠️

Here's a lengthy list of his TWs in lieu of a character overview. This is everything you need to know; when I use #cw Wyatt, it encases the following:

Murderer and mock executioner

Slaver (although, in his defense, he did not buy one, his mom willed him one)

Torturer

Rapist and sexual sadist with a blood kink (hematolagnia)

Gaslighter™️

Misogynist and egotistical predator who objectifies, demonizes, and degrades those he views as lesser (which is damn-near everyone)

Has anger issues and can’t chooses not to control his temper. Exploiter and raging narcissist (has anti-social personality tendencies + probably some other shit but I’m not a psychologist) who victimizes himself in every scenario despite him being the canonical villain in every sense of the word—he would win a gold medal in mental gymnastics.

Mentally, physically, verbally, and emotionally abusive. Bully and mean-spirited, humiliates people for fun (especially The Aid).

Drug addict and alcoholic, smokes weed (the only chill thing he does) and cigarettes, chews tobacco, consumes copious amounts of cocaine cut with meth and/or who knows what, and has picked up the habit of consuming Mystic blood (no, he's not a vampire, just a hematolagniac) to get out-of-this-world high he now can’t function without. Uppers > Downers.

Dabbles in cannibalism (a few times, but it does happen, so on the TWs it goes because wtf)

Porn addict

Gambling addict

Absent father

Mommy issues, Daddy issues, was abused and neglected as a child but never processed it healthily and sought help, so now he's just a menace to society and repeating fucked up trauma/abuse cycles (hello generational trauma). Has major beef with his older brother, Waylon, and was horrible to his younger sister, Winny, when they were kids.

Drunk driver (shouldn’t be driving because DUIs)

Owns firearms and weapons but definitely shouldn’t (although everyone does in Apocamerica)

Spoiled rich guy with a complex, doesn't accept "no" as an answer

Pretty much the worst person you'd ever have the misfortune of meeting

All-in-all: bastard-ass, creepy, intimate, sadistic Whumper

Full name: Wyatt Wilder Sullivan (Wy)

Role: main antagonist, Whumper

Date of Birth & sign: April 16, 1975 (56-57), Aries (story takes place in the year 2032)

Gender: cis-male

Sexuality: thinks of himself as just hetero, but falls under general sadism and dominance.

Height: 6'10"

Weight/body type/build: approx. 350lbs (I'm bad at guessing weight, take this with a grain of salt). Giant, solid build. Broad-shouldered, burly, and more heavy-set with a semi-prominent beer gut. In his youth was more brawny and muscular, now is a bit more flabby cause the only work out he’s doing is running to the liquor store, but still maintains a bulky physique.

Hometown: San Diego, CA

Family Members: Sullivan family tree. Has a daughter, Haylee, with ex-wife (how the fuck was this man even ever married is beyond me). Lost visitation rights to see his daughter and blames the Aid for it, but has made no effort to be a better person and reach out. Lives with The Aid in Eleanor's old house.

Left/right handed: right

Fav genre of music & anthem: classic rock, Ramblin' Gamblin' Man by Bob Seger

Occupation: trust-fund nepo baby. Used to be head of logistics security for family business. Now claims to be in finance and an investor (really sir, during the apocalypse?), and self-proclaims himself as a professional gambler and "independent media producer" (makes torture porn for fellow pervs on the internet—again, during the apocalypse no less). Barely graduated high school.

Ethnicity (+ American): Italian, French, Greek, North and West European, English

Hair color & length: ashy brown, silver-striped, cut short, combed to the right to hide his cow lick. Uses pomade. Facial hair: grown-out chevron mustache; rest of face clean shaven but gets 4 o'clock shadow soon after. Usually has stubble since he shaves about once a week. Body hair: moderately hairy with chest hair.

Hygiene: leaves much to be desired. Showers when sober enough to do so—or more so is sober enough to care that he reeks of BO, cigs, and beer, or after he's woken up in a pile of his vomit. Poor oral hygiene from chewing tobacco, drug use, smoking, and alcohol; thinks whiskey counts as mouthwash. Teeth yellowed and crooked with irritated, swollen-looking gums (from drugs and lack of daily care). He’s just a hot mess. The Aid has tried to clean this man up, but Wyatt ain’t having it.

Eye color: wide-set icy blue, downturned, deep sunken eyes under protruding brow.

Skin tone: light, apricot-colored skin with warm, reddish undertones. Face usually red and puffy (substance abuse)

Facial features: wide, triangle-shaped head. Thin-lipped downturned mouth. Prominent, hawkish, and rubescent nose. Arched, bushy eyebrows. Bigger ears with droopy lobes. Broad and heavy chin, slight underbite. From age, substance abuse, and lack of skin care (+ living in a dry climate): frown lines, forehead lines, crow's feet, blush-burned and puffy cheeks from constant flushing

Mannerisms: always scowling and glaring. Sniffling and wiping nose. Clearing throat. Hocking loogies and spitting chew in an old beer can. Scrunches nose with curling upper lip. Pinches bridge of nose. Loud, overly dramatic sighing. Tsks a lot. Grinds teeth. Rubs chin with index finger, rubs forehead with back of hand. Loud, heavy steps when walking. Crosses arms. Sucks teeth. Uses height to initiate others and takes up a lot of space. Constantly smokes cigs and probably has a beer in hand. When loaded and buzzing: jittery manic energy, crazy eyes, random face twitches. Bursts of movement in sporadic jolts, such as slapping or pounding fists on a table/nearest object.

Nervous ticks: nervousness presents more as nervous anger or agitation. Throws things. Grunts. Yells. Curses. Kicks, hits, punches whatever is closest to him (or uses his human punching bag, The Aid). Long car rides with blaring music, reckless driving. Tries to self-soothe by doing lines or watching porn.

Posture: carefree but domineering. He acts like he owns the place wherever he's at.

Style: basic T-shirt, collared cotton shirt with jeans and boots, casual leather oxford shoes (Dr. Martens), plain jackets. Very basic, solid-colored clothing, no fancy patterns or fun colors. Will wear a suit on occasion, but isn’t happy about it.

Health: amazingly, he hasn't had a heart attack (yet). Has had a fair share of overdoses. How is his liver still working? He doesn't take care of himself physically or mentally and should be dead, but he has the durability of a cockroach. Please drop dead

Piercings/tattoos: none

Birthmarks/scars: refer to the scar chart below that totally isn't an autopsy template (shout out to my boy for fucking Wyatt up as much as he has, I'm proud of you bby!)

Language(s): English

Personality: domineering, addictive, disagreeable, aggressive & argumentative, selfish, short-tempered, reckless, greedy, narcissistic, possessive, cruel, dishonest, grouchy, moody, violent, vulgar, prideful, dismissive, unpredictable, cold, impulsive, over-indulgent, jealous

Vices: addicted to everything he can get his hands on. Hardcore addict, and latest fixation is Mystic Blood cut with coke. Drinks more alcohol than water. Will fight and fuck his way to get what he wants. Will thrash and destroy everything when pissed off, then makes The Aid clean it up and beat him up if he doesn't do it fast enough; likes to wind down with a foot rub and/or full body massage from The Aid (*gag*).

Voice: gravelly with a tinge of teasing sarcasm, it ranges from monotone to raucous and taut. After a night of bruising and boozing, it can sound more strained and raspy/horse. (In my head he sounds something like Thomas Church?)

Smells like: as described from this scrapped excerpt left on the cutting room floor: "On a good day, Wyatt smelt of generically fragranced clean linen laundry detergent, slightly masked by an ever-present light odor of dewy sweat, salted sunflower seeds, and worn-off Old Spice. On a bad day, he reeked of one part odious stress sweat, three parts foul breath—a coalesced stench of alcohol, cigarettes, and beef jerky."

Face claim(s): John Goodman (I'M SORRY JOHN), but specifically these pictures below. Honorary mention, Douglas M. Griffin.

Character inspiration: Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall (Outlander), Ramsey Bolton (GOT), diabolical combination of Homelander and Billy Butcher (The Boys). Biggest YIKES.

Other: irredeemable POS; please openly hate this man; he's made to be shit on. That being said, as I mentioned many times above, Wyatt struggles with substance abuse, and there are references to drug use in text. But just to be crystal clear, he is not a bad person because he uses substances, and I do not intend to vilify individuals dealing with substance abuse. His purpose aims to illustrate the destructive nature of addiction—the monster it can create—the compounding impact of unaddressed trauma, and the correlation between the two. (I come from a long line of addicts and have lost family members due to overdoses; this is how I’m dealing with it; you don’t need to like how I’m going about it, but I don’t need anyone getting on my ass about it either. I’m working through some shit. To me, Wyatt is the personification of the disease of addiction and how it will drown anyone it comes in contact with.)

While the drugs exacerbate his behavior, it's important to note that he was already struggling with personal issues and has fully embraced his negative traits, and is incredibly self-destructive. Wyatt is a complex character, albeit a deeply flawed one who consistently makes poor choices and is a massive piece of shit. But deep down, he’s a sad, unfulfilled man who got the shit end of the stick and is the byproduct of bad parenting and abuse himself. He is not for the faint of heart; I think his character inspos say all you need to know about the kind of person he is. But still, fuck him.

Cursed mood board

Honorary tag request: @whumped-by-glitter

[mousemilf]

like 10 or 15 years ago if u went to any small towns "historic downtown" it would be like..... Amys You-nique Designz (bedazzled wineglasses, chevron print baby/kids clothes, curlz mt monogrammed everything) The Curious Mustache Emporium (twee novelty print clothing, museum gift shop vibe, old-timey candy) The Sassy Sasquatch Boutique (rhinestone stuff for women with concealed carry permits, vinyl decals, chalk paint) Elm Antiques (terrifying haphazardly piled dusty antiques and a floor that feels like it will collapse, no regular hours, insane shit for amazing prices if you survive) Be Still (essential oils bath stuff, nearly empty store, will last 6 months)

now everything is called like Bread and Bucket or Clover and Cheesecloth or whatever and their merch looks like aldi's little seasonal homegoods aisle.

[londonsfinestscientists]

Lodgetember Day 23: Dr. Bryson/Phaall!

Nicholas D Bryson (also known as Dr. Hans Phall in the physical release) is a famous Aeronaut Explorer and part time resident of the Society. He deals in celestial ether exploration via hot air balloons. His name and physical appearance are based off of Neil DeGrasse Tyson.

He's a stout man with short coily black hair, black eyes, and thick facial hair with a chevron style mustache. He wears a blue and black suit outfit, and his personality is quite theatrical and verbose-- which is fitting considering his fame. He likely has the most dialogue out of any of the Lodgers, except for Jasper.

Tag your posts for him with #LodgetemberBryson and #Lodgetember24 so we can easily see them! Also, reminder that you can continue to post from previous days, and that these lodger prompts aren't just limited to art! feel free to just talk about them, share headcanons or fics, stuff like that!

more images of him can be found under the cut!

[zangtang]

Your AI men are so incredibly hot! You have inspired me to try it out. But so far I'm not coming up with anything any good.

How do you do it? I'm guessing not just from text commands?

Yeah, it's a mix of a few things. Can I just preface this with the fact I don't know what I'm doing though, lol. The main thing I rely on is to use the image weight suffix, where the baseline is --iw 1 --iw 0.5 allows the AI to take the bones of your image and come up with something loosely based on it but mostly based on the text prompt (I almost always have it set to this) --iw 2 tells the AI to copy the image way more closely, which you may want for specific poses, as I've yet to find any good way of making it do that - flexing and crossed arms are just things very fat AI men will not do, apparently. Here's a recent example. First I used /prefer suffix and set my suffix to "two egyptian men hugging, full body photo of an enormously obese security guard with gigantic belly wearing a buttoned uniform dress shirt, very fat man with huge stomach and thin legs, bulbous, body extension, associated press photo, 4K, sharpen, digital photo, color photo --no hat --iw 0.5" (I suspect you can actually just use "two men hugging, full body photo of a fat security guard, associated press photo, digital color photo --no hat --iw 0.5" lol. In fact you may need to - I've tried some prompts taken from Midjourney's gallery and had them immediately blocked, so it might be that the AI is not even applied universally. Starting with a smaller prompt and adding to it makes it easier to keep track.) then i used /blend and added these two images (a random Hot Doctor off Pinterest (lol) and a fat eastern european preacher with colin farrell's head and some uniform detailing poorly photoshopped on)

the result was

remixed with "drunk men"

remixed with "black men, standing in an elevator"

turkish men, chevron mustache

kenyan men

and so on. Oh, and using --iw 2 resulted in this, no matter the prompt:

while changing the -iw 0.5 prompt to this "two texan men hugging, full body photo of an enormously obese cowboy with gigantic belly wearing a plaid shirt..."

and "two australian men hugging, full body photo of an enormously obese explorer with gigantic belly wearing a safari shirt..."

and "two irish men hugging, full body photo of an enormously obese footballer with gigantic belly wearing a rugby shirt... standing in a cramped elevator..."

if nothing else, shows how incredibly lazy I am, because I genuinely used the same few bases for like 90% of everything, even when it didn't look like it. Find or make or blend an image base that results in a body shape you like and doesn't constantly result in bizarre fusions, tweak the image weight and give it your prompt and it should do the rest for you. I think?? if you want a very exaggerated belly you need to be sure your edit has visible legs and maybe other things to help AI understand the proportions, but it all feels a bit like superstition. Also I'm still amused at how Irish the Irish men look and i'm SO much more into obese Irish rugby players than I thought I would be lol. add "--no ball" if you do american footballers though, or they'll pop up absolutely everywhere (I just want to add, probably unnecessarily, no I do not use photoshop. MSPaint and Gimp do enough by a long way)

[cobwebbedcat]

Omg I just thought about old man who has trouble getting hard and has never tried anal before. Imagine sitting him in your lap and fingering him and to his surprise he feels his cock twitching and now you have to bully his prostate til he’s hard and leaking all over the place

Also have you ever considered writing au’s (I think that’s the right term) about characters if they were like gilf age? Like if Leona was an old man like Trein cause 🥵

OOOOOOHHHHH LOOVE LOVE LOVE!!!!!!

telling him that even when his cock gets hard it's still useless because all he wants and needs is to be filled and fucked. completely neglecting his cock, and making him cum untouched 🤤

and I had not considered your idea of.... gilf au??? much before! Sometimes I think about how handsome Trey would look, older, fatter, with a big chevron mustache 🥵aside from that I like the idea of Leona being older... tired grumpy old kitty. ouughgghh maybe his purr deepens and sounds more guttural like a fucking car motor hehehe.. woulld he get more tattoos as he ages do you think? I love thinking about him with his hair starting to gray!!!!

[a-gaggle-of-bastards]

WE'RE BACK BABEEEYY

Here's our character line-up:

Dove Class: Druid (Circle of Wildfire) Race: Half Wood Elf Pronouns: She/her Codename: Hot Tamale Appearance: 5'0" tall, singed red hair contained in braids, freckly fair skin, and dark green eyes. Hands and arms are covered in burn scars. She wears a light brown shirt that has been stained with smoke and ash, refuses to wear shoes, and wears dark coloured loose pants with drawstrings so she can hike them up and tie them at her knees when needed. Notes: Very Spicy. Her fire spirit companion is a Fox.

Thenorin Ananias (Played by me!) Class: Artificer (Armorer) Race: Human Pronouns: He/They Codename: Biker Suit Appearance: 6'5" tall and covered head to toe in tanned leather armor with a hood that covers the top of his head. He wears a pair of goggles and a mask that covers his face. Through the goggles, people see a pair of faintly glowing orange eyes (which is terrifying in the dark apparently). When not in his armor, Thenorin has very pale white skin and dark brown hair that is styled as a grown out undercut with a chunk of bleached blond near the bangs. His eyes are copper with an orange glow. Notes: He wields a collapsible metal quarterstaff that has been heavily modified. He has a massive appetite and can probably eat his own bodyweight in food if left unattended.

Alrid Rivermourn Class: Paladin Race: Human Pronouns: He/Him Codename: Armored Dilf Appearance (First encounter): Just under 6 feet tall, fair-skinned, muscular, and about middle-aged. His hair is dark brown with specks of shite white on the sides, very pale green eyes, full beard, and in full plate armor with green accents. Notes: When he's not piss drunk, he is a very well put-together man with perfect posture and pleasant mannerisms. While drunk, that all goes out the door.

Synna Class: Monk Race: Human Pronouns: She/Her Codename: to be determined Appearance: 5'6" tall, brunette with the right side shaved and the rest of the hair has grown out. She wears a red blindfold and has a few piercings in her ears. She wears a sleeveless robe that is army green with black trim, black saggy pants, sandals, and has two belts: one across her chest and one across her waist with multiple holsters. The top holster on her chest has breathing holes while the others have raised bumps on them. Notes: We keep forgetting she can't see.

Button Synna's creature companion. He appears as a very round yellow canary-type bird. He's just a Normal Bird™. He frequently sits on Synna's head and screams.

Lupaw'n Status: DECEASED (presumably) Cause of Death: Swooped up by a giant eagle Class: Bard of Lore Race: Harengon Pronouns: He/Him Codename: to be determined Appearance: He stands at 6'3" tall but he is hunched over. He is wrinkly, wiry and thin (you can see the bones through his fur). His eyes are a slightly cloudy blue like he's going blind. His fur is grey-ish pink in colour. His nose is scrunched in like it was punched in several years before and it just never healed properly. Notes: He asks so many questions. His magic focus is his brother, which is a sock puppet.

Lupin Lupaw'n's brother - which originally appears as a sock puppet. Dove burnt him to a crisp, and he appeared on another vaguely face-shaped item nearby. Lupaw'n fashions a new puppet for Lupin to bind to later on.

Jobe J. James Class: Fighter (Champion) Race: Human Pronouns: He/Him, whatever Codename: to be determined Appearance: 5'11" tall, clad in very basic but very old tattered leather armor. Various patching to the armor is slightly miscolored and in various shapes such as stars, hearts, triangles and lightning bolts. Chestnut brown chevron mustache with a #2 one-length jarhead haircut. Eyes are blue hazel. Full of life and hope that he can keep a job for more than 2 months. Looks mid 30s. Dad bod. Notes: He's cursed

[tychodorian]

Did someone say a new NeonMob piece? I did! This series is going to take a while to complete, but here's Rolo from my Braidy von Althuis books! He's the newest addition to the collection.

He's one of my favorite OCs of all time, and a fan favorite, too!

📖 Character Spotlight: Rolo von Althuis 📖

📚 From the book: Braidy von Althuis - The Series

🔹 Role in Story: Braidy's Uncle 🔹 Age: 28 (He's dead though…) 🔹 Appearance: 80s, wishes he was a pop star, quality chevron mustache, tattoos everywhere

🔹 Personality Traits: main character energy, arrogant, head empty, eager to belong 🔹 Backstory Snippet: oops, accidental Russian Mob(TM) 🔹 Fun Fact: Hates Chinese takeout

If you want to learn more about my Braidy von Althuis books, I'm doing a live reading of the book that stars Rolo on the 22nd of this month. Or, if you want to read the whole series, you can check it out on Amazon.

[peaches2217]

I’m AFAB and tend to present femme, so people IRL typically use she/her for me. And that’s not incorrect! My pronouns are he/she after all. But it gets disheartening, hearing she she she her hers she her she she she over and over again. I’ve got two sets of pronouns for a reason. I want people using them both. And because that rarely happens, it’s reached the point where, instead of favoring them both equally, I’ve begun heavily preferring he/him. I still want people using them both! But if people are gonna insist on using only one, I want my masculinity acknowledged, please!

I feel like it’ll never be enough for people IRL. I went to Wendy’s once wearing a binder, a packer that left a less-than-subtle bulge, men’s clothing, more masc-looking glasses and hairstyle, I spent an HOUR darkening my preexisting pale facial hair and had what I thought was a realistic-looking mustache and goatee, I spoke as deeply as I could without sounding like I had a cold, I told them my name was fucking Donavon… and I still got called “ma’am.” “Alright, this one is—” “For the lady in the chevron sweater. Yeah, her right there.” They’re not wrong! But they’re not right either! And they especially weren’t right that night!

So to people who use he/him or masculine terms when referring to me, and especially to people who mix masculine and feminine terms and pronouns for me: thank you. You make this silly, conflicted little enby feel a lot less silly and conflicted. I feel seen and validated and that’s something I really can’t overstate the importance of.

[ottitty]

Love to see this post again

I also want to add because of the mention of the disability pride flag: very tight designs with bright, high contrast colors (remember the chevrons with the really really tiny stripes that were all the rage in the 2010s with the finger mustaches?) can cause that effect and trigger photosensitivity or strain in some folks. You can thank my neurologist for telling me this and moving me away from some... questionable interior decor choices.

Please tag with something like 'eye strain' or, as it was said above, with the 'flashing tag'! It is quite literally a life saver.

Please stop trigger tagging with #epilepsy tw/cw/warning/etc.

I need every single person to understand how horrible tumblr’s tagging system is

I go into the tag for epilepsy and its all flashing lights. We can’t use our own tag because people without epilepsy fill it up with improper warnings.

Use ‘flashing’ in place of ‘epilepsy’ in your tags. You aren’t warning people of epileptics, you’re warning us of flashing lights. Please please tag properly. Epileptics say this endlessly and constantly and it’s ignored. You are risking lives by doing this.

Here’s proof of what I mean:

THIS POST IS 100% OKAY TO REBLOG, I ENCOURAGE PEOPLE WITHOUT EPILEPSY TO ESPECIALLY DO SO!