#fake pattern photos

[iokheaira]

Slight nitpick: you can do CERTAIN TYPES of fade/gradient in embroidery with specialty gradient dyed thread and/or optical mixing of 2-3 colours (thread painting/silk shading, or blended stitches in cross stitch). These typically don't have the same candy-gloss unreal filter as AI generated images do, though.

Also, in that cute hedgehog embroidery, the real version uses a standard number of strands, I think 2 (it's very well done too so it's sad the person is disappointed), but some modern embroiderers use the undivided thread with 6 strands, which is much thicker and would look closer to the AI image. You can even add padding, either base stitches or cut pieces of felt, under the surface stitches for a more 3D look (see also: stumpwork). A bigger problem is the unreal bright shine, which you might replicate with silk or viscose but then only in a very specific light... (And very long curved satin stitches without visible couching, but the hedgehog doesn't have those.)

I know of one example where the embroiderer spun the thread (2 ply merino/silk blend, about as much as you'd need for a mid-sized lace shawl) out of gradient-dyed fibre, resulting in very long colour progressions that you can't get in standard DMC/Anchor gradient (ombré) embroidery thread. (You could also dye commercial laceweight yarn to get that effect, but you'd need to adjust the lengths of thread you use to avoid fraying - the advantage of handspun is that you can add twist to make the thread more durable.) Oh, and what did she make with that thread? A Long Dog full size sampler!

The sampler in question:

https://www.instagram.com/p/DAOCx-lI38O/?img_index=1&igsh=azA3ZTV6OHBvYmhm

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by vampy (@fibresbyvampy)

What I'm saying is that expert-level work can create things AI can only dream of! The problem is that newbies who haven't been exposed to craft IRL and are only trying to learn via YouTube or Tiktok and get kits on Etsy or Temu can't easily judge what's easy and what requires mastery and/or inventing a new technique or specialty materials or equipment. What I hear about AI generated guidebooks is even worse - so beginners, look for old books and videos and learn about the craft before going on an Etsy shopping spree. If possible, meet real people or go look at real objects in resl life, whether at home, in a craft store, museum or county fair!

One pro tip, though: if the photo of the finished item looks like someone took it with their off hand in terrible lighting and there's a cat or a bag of Doritos or a pyjama leg or reflections of the glass museum/exhibition case holding the item in the image, it's probably real. (Fancy photo might mean the person used a filter or is a great photographer - or it might be AI. That's where you start looking for inconsistencies or implausible sections and whether the maker has explained the process in any way.)

Hey, if you do crafts (especially things like crochet, knitting, embroidery, etc), make sure to look up how to identify when a listing is AI generated. You do NOT want to waste money on an incredible looking kit or pattern that is physically impossible to make, especially if you're on sites like etsy hoping to support an actual artist.

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[idiot-bagel-photog]

Blood Spatter Chic

[anistarrose]

[ID from alt: first is a tweet from a fake Oregon Parks Department account on twitter, @/OregonParksDept. The caption reads: "Brrr! Winter is upon us campers, so remember to obey all road signage, especially around tight curves. I sense a big change in the weather coming! #RoadSafetySavesLives".

The image is a snowy road, with a yellow triangular caution sign depicting a swerving car.

Second is another tweet from the same account reading: "Now here’s a rare sight- a Brimstone Moth in December! Remember campers, look but don’t touch!"

Attached is a photo of a yellow moth, with a vaguely triangular shape and a (seemingly photoshopped on) eye pattern.

Last is an edited version of the "we thought you were dead" meme, reading: "Aw, hey, Alex Hirsch's fake Oregon Parks Department account, we thought you were dead." End description.]

[thewitchblue]

Out of all the family members, Y/N had a favourite, and it's arguably the least likely person: Tim Drake. Tim, for the life of him, can't figure out why, either. He's oftentimes indifferent towards people, and he's often too tired to care what the consequences to his actions are.

You must have picked up on this pattern and decide to fix Tim's bad habits because soon you were asking him to cuddle under the guise of a nightmare (but really it's because you heard him typing in his room at 4 am) or asking him to spend the day with you at the arcade so he can show you "how to cheat the system" (but really it's to get him away from the Batcave.) He became your favourite because you love him and care about his health.

He feels a familiar tug on his shirt and sees big, innocent eyes and knew he was going to be dragged somewhere else. He knew that excited gleam in your eyes and that bright grin so well. You hatched a plan, and all you needed was Tim, and damn, Tim is weak for his little sibling.

"What did you come up with this time?"

He asked, trying to hide the smile on his face. You shined so brightly with him next to you that he began shining, too.

"Bruce wants to host a gala but I need help with picking out an outfit. Can you help me? We can cuddle after."

How can he say no when you pout so cutely at him? He gave a resigned sigh but agreed. He hated galas, but they are especially hard on you. You were the one the reporters borderline harass because you were the bright star amongst the family of shadows and fake smiles. Your smiles were real and inviting. You were the bundle of joy the family needed in their lives.

The press eats up every time Tim steps up to protect you from the attacking questions. Sometimes, he even straight up picks you up and carries you away when the questions get particularly nasty or rude.

He would never admit that he loves that he can pick you up and just carry you away like a knight in shining armour. You never put up a fuss when he places you on his shoulders and simply walks away from the reporters hounding you.

He felt so smug about being the obvious favourite. All the photos of him carrying you, him falling asleep on your lap with a gentle smile on both faces, you tackling him with a hug and a grin on your face, the way he laughed when he fell after the tackle.

The public ate up your relationship like candy. They love, love, love to see the way you are so close and love it even more when they see it in real life. Just seeing you both out on the streets of Gotham left the bystanders grinning.

They love the piggyback rides Tim gives you, the way you chase him with a wild grin and a watergun in your hand, and all the times you kiss his cheek at a coffee shop or play fight in the park. They love every interaction. You never thought much about it. You loved Tim dearly. Of course, you are going to show it.

Tim is easily your favourite, and you don't care one bit about who sees it. You don't care if the reporters take millions of photos of Tim winning you a massive teddy bear at the carnival that's the size of you or if they write thousands of articles gushing about your sweet relationship with your brother. You both are enjoying the moment, and that is what matters to you.

Dick was jealous, Jason was confused, and Damian was annoyed beyond belief. Ew, they get it, you love each other deeply, but must you be so obvious?

Dick joins in when he can, but it's always been Tim and you. You forged Tim and you into twin souls, attached at the hip and taking on the world together.

[gothicgaycowboy]

accidentally breaking aegon’s nose by riding his face too hard

I was finally able to write something short and sweet aren’t you proud of me 🤭? as always this is my modern aegon who’s parents are rhaenyra and alicent, hope you enjoy it<3 (1.2k words)

You’d think by now you would know how to sit on your boyfriend’s face, but to be fair it wasn’t really your fault.

Aegon had been working you up all day knowing you would be too busy with work to get a moment away. From texting you every dirty thing he wanted to do to you, to sending you pictures of him laying in your bed with his half-hard cock telling you how much he missed you. You didn’t understand what had gotten into him. He’d always had a high libido but he wasn't usually such a tease about it.

Whatever it was though, it worked on you. You had gotten almost no work done, way too distracted by the spam of dirty messages. Just when you thought he was giving you a break, a familiar vibration pulsed from your phone. At that point you knew the drill, make sure no one was around before clicking on the notification.

Aeggs: he's so lonely without you :(

Accompanying the text was a photo of him; naked thighs spread wide, shirt unbuttoned revealing the chain that dangled around his neck, hand squeezing around the tip of his pink leaking cock as it dripped down his pale fingers.

At that moment you craved nothing more than to lick his hand clean, and suck the rest of his cum out of his beautiful cock. Your thighs squeezed together so hard you were sure they would be sore the next day.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you may or may not have deceived your boss into thinking you were too ill to continue working. Faking being sick is something that everyone has done at some point in their lives—maybe not to go home and fuck their slutty boyfriends but still.

He didn’t even get a word in before you directed him. “Bed, now.”

He may not have been known as the smartest of all his brothers but he could follow orders like no other. By the time your clothes hit the floor Aegon was already laid bare before you. The sight he’d been teasing you with all day, finally within your reach.

“Don’t make me wait for it, baby,” a cocky smile graced your boyfriend’s pink lips. The fucking nerve of him.

“Me, make you wait? Me, tease you? Oh you’re gonna get it now.” You crawled over his body placing your legs on either side of his neck. “Put your hands where I can see them. You’re not allowed to touch me for that shit you pulled earlier, but I’m going to enjoy myself.”

He nodded obediently to your demands, clearly eager to get to work on your ‘punishment’. Without another word you plopped yourself down onto his waiting mouth, tugging his silver hair into your hands like a lead.

His tongue found its way to your clit quicker than it ever had before, causing you to jump with surprise. No matter how many times you two had sex you were always shocked by how fucking good he was at it. “Fuuck, Aegon,” Despite being in control this time you couldn’t help the submissive whines that spilled out of you.

The movements of Aegon’s mouth became more intense as his confidence tended to boost when you made ‘pretty noises’ for him—his words, not yours. His tongue expertly created a pattern of movements through your lips, dipping back and forth from your aching clit to your desperate hole, occasionally sucking at your bud until you could feel your pulse running through it.

He was like a man starved despite the fact that you had just done this very thing the night prior.

“You like that baby?” His question was mumbled against your pussy.

You sighed out of your nose just as upset as you were turned on that he was still so pleased to have you denying him any affection after the stunt he pulled today. “No talking.” Your tone was as harsh as you tugged harder at his locks until his face was completely flush to your cunt.

Still he persisted at his usual strenuous pace. You wanted to cry from pleasure, toes curling on both sides of your boyfriends head. Your hips began to rock at their own speed, meeting his mouth with equal eagerness.

“Yes just like that,” The vibrations of Aegons moans against you soaking core making it impossible to hold off your impending orgasm much longer. You were already so close and it felt like it had just started. Honestly it was a wonder to you how you managed to last even this long with how pent up you were all day.

“I’m gonna come, fuck,” Aegon let out a clear groan of encouragement underneath you. Unconsciously your pelvis began grinding harder against the Targaryen’s face, his nose bumping against your clit when it wasn’t being sucked between his lips. Your back arched as you visualized your peak coming to an end.

Harder.

Faster.

Pelvis meeting skull in a storm of passion.

Without meaning to, you slipped higher up your boyfriend’s face while grinding against him, desperate to reach your end. That’s when you felt it.

Crack.

You broke his fucking nose.

You acted swiftly, pulling yourself off him and making sure he was at least still alive. You gently tugged his face in your hands to gaze in your direction, getting a better look to assess the damage. “Fuck baby are you okay? I’m so sorry, oh shit—” his nose was leaning to the left side of his face with dark streams of blood leaking out of each nostril.

His eyes welled up slightly with tears in his waterline. “Why’d you stop?” Was the first thing out of his mouth.

You were completely blown away by his seeming lack of concern for his own safety. “You’re fucking joking right? Aegon, I broke your nose!”

“Yeah but you were almost done anyway.” He defended, looking more upset that you didn’t come than his bloodied nose.

A smile grew across your lips. How could one person manage to be so frustrating yet so cute at the same time? Your thumbs rubbed softly at the sides of his injured face. “You really are something you know that?” You laughed.

“Thank you.” He grinned before wincing at the pain of moving his face.

“We have to get you to the ER.” You moved away from him, running around the room to pick up both your clothes and dress yourself.

“But you haven’t even—” you cut him off before he could finish his stupid sentence.

“My orgasm is not nearly as important as making sure I didn’t permanently fuck up your nose. Get dressed, please, I’m going to get you an ice pack for that.” You pointed to the centre of his face.

He made a pouty noise but complied nonetheless, tugging some tissues out from the bedside table to absorb the blood running down his face.

You walked to the freezer, pulling out the cold compress. When you made your way back into the room you found a fully dressed Aegon who looked like the cat who ate the canary. You stood in front of him pushing the compress delicately against his nose. “What’s got you so excited all of a sudden?”

He smirk became wider. “Just thinking about how proud my mums will be when I tell them how I broke my nose.”

Your cheeks heated at his words. The image of his mothers mortified faces as he explains to them in detail how his injuries were caused entering your mind. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh I’m quite serious, they’ll be happier than when they found out I actually managed to get into a university without bribing anyone.”

You found out just how genuine he was being a couple days later when he dialed them up on speaker phone for you to hear.

[fouryearsofshades]

Some Chinese fashion styles

Disclaimer: The following styles and their definitions were observed by me and are not authoritative. I am only familiar with Hanfu and if I made mistakes and picked the wrong photo examples or fraud shops, please let me know. Also, this post focused on women's fashion because 1. I am not into men's fashion so I don't know much about them. 2. The algorithm also knew that so I don't really see them.

汉服/Hànfú

传统服饰/Chuántǒng fúshì （传服/chuán fú）

清汉女/Qīng hàn nǚ

旗装/Qí zhuāng

旗袍/Qípáo

新国风/Xīn guó fēng、新中式/Xīn zhōngshì 汉元素/hàn yuánsù 茶艺服/Cháyì fú or 茶服/chá fú 唐装/Tángzhuāng 中山装/Zhōngshānzhuāng.

汉服/Hànfú

The ethnic clothing of Han Chinese (not the Han Dynasty).

There was a prohibition of Han clothing and hair styles in Qing dynasty, i.e. the 剃发易服/Tìfā yìfú qu Queue Ordinance, so modern hanfu is an on-going revivalist moment.

Modern hanfu are based on archeological evidences with minor twists to suit modern like, such as the type of fabric used and cut.

As a result, there are many types of garments and sub-styles. The figure above shows some examples.

While which style should be included and promoted is a constant debate, but in general, the cutout line is the Qing dynasty (however small accessories such as purses are alright).

传统服饰/Chuántǒng fúshì （传服/chuán fú）

No example because I am not sure who identified with this label.

The Chinese traditional clothing.

This either referred to historical clothing restorers (regardless of ethnicity) or people who promoted that the traditional clothing of Han people should be in the late Ming dynasty style, since "people should get up at where they had fallen".

They might be agreeable with the hanfu movement or not.

清汉女/Qīng hàn nǚ

The clothing of women of Han Chinese in the Qing dynasty.

Since the Queue Ordinance wasn't that strictly enforced on Han women, the Han women clothing in the Qing dynasty had quickly absorbed Manchurian's elements while retaining the characteristic two-piece silhouette. (Manchurian women wore a one-piece robe.)

I believed it appeared around 2019 when the styles of hanfu had moved to fully embroidered surface to a more tone down brocade or weaved patterns.

旗装/Qí zhuāng

The ethnic clothing of Man people (Manchurian).

The women's clothing are generally in round collar opened on the left (youren) with straight sleeves.

The most basic item is a 衬衣/chènyī, which doesn't have vents.

However, the most common item I have seen on the street is a 氅衣/chǎng yī (probably rented), which should be worn on top of 衬衣, since they have side vents.

They usually have no standing-up collar but in some cases a fake collar could be worn.

On top of changyi they could wear a 马褂/mǎguà、坎肩/kǎnjiān、褂裥/guà jiǎn.

旗袍/Qípáo

The Chinese clothing of women originated from the Minguo era, known in English as qipao or cheongsam.

The male equivalent is 长衫/chángshān.

Currently in style is the retro-cut, while uses the traditional flat cut (no shoulder seam) instead of the more body-hugging modern draping style.

There are also many variations and cuts, but the overall silhouette is similar.

新国风/Xīn guó fēng、新中式/xīn zhōngshì

Innovative clothing that was inspired by Chinese traditional aesthetic.

It is an umbrella term.

汉元素/hàn yuánsù refers to clothing inspired by hanfu specifically, while xinguofeng could be inspired by qipao and other ethnic clothing. In addition, hanyuansu is a term more familair to hanfu-ers, so the target audience is slightly different between hanyuansu and xinguofeng.

茶艺服/Cháyì fú or 茶服/chá fú,i.e tea dress, which aimed to convey a zen and rustic aesthetic could also be considered a sub-style. They are often worn by retirees, artists or workers in tea shops, calligraphy shops, Chinese spas, Chinese traditional medicine clinics etc.

The older "Chinese style" generally refers to 唐装/Tángzhuāng and 中山装/Zhōngshānzhuāng.

Tangzhuang (Tang Suit) was a men suit characterized with a mandarin collar with a row of 盘扣/pán kòu frogs in the middle. There are two pockets at the bottom front of the suit. It was a well-known looked worldwide due to the 2001 APEC summit. However, other clothes resembled a 马褂/mǎguà could also be called a tangzhuang.

Zhongshanzhuang was designed and named after Sun Yat-sen but was often known in English as the Mao Suit. Mao Suit was characterised with a 关门领/Guānmén lǐng（“closed-door collar", but also known as Mao collar in English) with a row of round buttons. There are four pockets at the front of the suit.

中华lolita/Zhōnghuá lolita

A sub-style of the lolita fashion inspired by cheongsam/qipao, hanfu or other Chinese artistic elements.

The same item could appeared in different styles, but with different cut and accessories. The following examples showed a mamianqun used in different styles.

THE END

[cinnamanz]

# ONLY ON CAMERA — chapter forty!

when katseye's main dancer daniela avanzini accidentally throws shade at chart-topping singer y/n l/n on an interview, the internet erupts in chaos. with y/n already in hot waters with the press over her latest scandal, both their pr teams scramble for damage control. the solution? a 'picture-perfect' fake relationship to turn the headlines in their favor.

wc: 1573 (highly recommended to be read, very crucial to the story)

HEAVY

DANIELA HAD KNOWN LOVE.

it came in the way her parents' feet shuffled with the practiced grace of professionals across the tiles of their living room, their bodies swaying to the spanish song playing softly in the background. her father’s hand would rest on her mother’s waist as if she might slip away, while her mother’s fingers brushed his cheek in a silent reassurance that she was still there.

they danced as though the world beyond the walls didn’t exist, as if this fragile moment could hold off the weight of everything waiting outside, a memory to frame and look back on. every step they took was a promise, every touch a reminder of love that hadn’t faded.

it was beautiful, she always thought whenever she watched them dance—a glimpse into her parents’ past. but that didn’t stop her from wondering if she’d ever find someone who could hold her with that same gentle certainty—or if she was destined to only know love through someone else’s story.

she knew love.

love was a friend, a familiar face.

love became someone she could turn to whenever troubles started to arise, became arms she could run to and bury herself in. love started to become limiting. 

it was love the first time her ex told her not to go out with her friends. “i just worry about you,” he had said, brushing her hair behind her ear, his eyes soft and voice wrapped in concern. “they don’t care about you like i do.” 

she’d hesitated, her phone still in hand, but then he’d pulled her close, his arms encircling her like a shield, protective. obsessive. “stay with me tonight,” he whispered. “let me take care of you.” and she did. of course she did.

it became a pattern. “they’re not good for you.” “you don’t need anyone else.” “i just want to keep you safe.” it was love—the way he wanted her all to himself, how fiercely he cared.

but sometimes, at night, when the world was quiet and she was left alone with her thoughts, she’d stare at the ceiling and feel the weight of it all. it wasn’t loneliness—he was always there, she was never alone—but something just as hollow, something she couldn’t name laid on the pit of her stomach. she buried it deep, as usual.

because love was supposed to hurt a little, wasn’t it? that was love. that’s what it was.

love showered her with affection, sweet words that wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “you’re everything to me,” he whispered, pulling her closer, his eyes soft with love. “i need you.”

but the moment she let her guard down, the truth came crashing like bricks. messages on his phone, photos of another woman, his arm around her waist, his smile too wide she was sure it hurt. 

and when she confronted him, he recoiled, eyes wide with faux confusion. “you’re paranoid,” he snapped. “after everything i’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?”

she hesitated, guilt twisting in her stomach. was she paranoid?

he pulled her into his arms, pressing her so close she couldn’t breathe, his grip desperate. “don’t listen to the lies,” he murmured. “i swear, they’re all lies. that’s all there is to it. i love you. you’re the only one for me.” his words slipped into her mind like poison, drowning out everything else.

but she could still see the photos in the back of her mind, the unanswered questions gnawing at her. maybe she was overreacting. maybe he didn’t mean it. this is love.

he looked at her with glassy eyes. “i don’t deserve this.” and she pulled him closer, her chest aching, knowing he was right. that was love.

love apologized. love always did. “i’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft, trembling. “i never meant to hurt you. i love you, and i’ll do anything to prove it.” his hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing away her tears. “you have to believe me, i’m not like them. i just get confused sometimes, but i swear, it’s only you.”

she wanted to believe him. the way his eyes searched hers, desperate for her to see how sincere he was. he loved her, didn’t he? 

but nothing changed. she should’ve known.  the same pattern played out over and over like a mantra—more late nights, more secrecy, more broken promises disguised in apologies. he’d say, “i’ll be better, i swear it. just trust me, please.”

and she wanted to. she really did. she loved him. she did. but each time, she felt a little smaller. the words lost their meaning, the apologies hollow. why was it always her fault?

the guilt would settle over her like a heavy blanket. “you’re the one always pushing me away,” he’d whisper, his voice breaking. “if you just trusted me, this wouldn’t keep happening. you’re the one who makes me mess up.” no.

she pulled him closer, the weight of his words sinking into her chest. she could feel it all—the suffocating love, the never-ending cycle. but the thought of losing him felt like losing everything. he loved her, didn’t he?

and so, she forgave love again. because love was supposed to forgive.

love snapped, patience running thin. “you’re such a fucking burden,” he spat, his eyes hard and cold. “why can’t you just be normal? why can’t you just trust me?” he threw his hands up in frustration, the words cutting through her like shards of glass. “god, daniela! i do everything for you, and this is how you repay me? jesus, you make me feel like shit!”

she froze, the sting of his words locking her in place. every inch of her felt heavy, drowning in the weight of his anger. she’d been here before—over and over—but this time it felt different. it felt final. desperation clawed up her throat, voice strangled and small as she tried to speak up.

“i-” nothing came out.

the silence between them was deafening. she couldn’t move. couldn’t speak. couldn’t even breathe. this was love. she had begged, pleaded for him to change, for this to stop. but it never did. foolish. every time she thought she was leaving, he’d pull her back in with soft words and promises, only for it to be worse than before, for love to be unrecognisable.

she was trapped in this cycle of love and hate, of apologies and cruelty. maybe she deserved it. she knew what she was getting herself into. she did this to herself.

“you think i’d want to be with someone like you?” he sneered. “you’re lucky i even stay.”

the words twisted in her chest, a knot that wouldn’t loosen. a knot that tightened every passing second. she couldn’t leave him. she couldn’t even imagine being without him, not after everything. he was all she had.

so, she stayed. that was love.

then she met y/n. that irritating woman she’d been paired up with for a pr relationship to deal with scandals that could overthrow both their careers. she was annoying and weird, to say the least. always pestering her with questions like, ‘how was ur day?’ or ‘can we meet up for coffee?’ daniela wasn’t a fool. she knew what the woman was playing at.

so she indulged it. well, mostly because she had to. then, came to the point where this woman shamelessly threw money away for her, buying hundreds worth of pastries for her and her group whenever they’d go out, to spending $1700 towards books that would take her a year to finish with her busy schedule. ('love' never did that for her.)

was that love? the thought had inched itself into her head, settling in the crevices of her mind. was that love? the gestures felt like love. maybe it was love. but it wasn’t real. it was too much, too fast, like a tidal wave of affection meant to drown her, to make her feel like she owed something in return. and she did. she owed y/n everything for the time, for the gifts, for the effort. but she didn’t want it. she wanted space. distance. something real.

but daniela couldn’t pull away. not yet. she wanted to keep y/n around a little while longer. 

now, as daniela sat in the passenger seat of y/n’s car, the woman’s hand, gentle and warm, reached over and placed itself over daniela’s curled fist, still clenched in her lap, as though afraid to let go. the touch was soft, almost hesitant, but it was real. 

y/n squeezed her hand—once, twice, three times—and each squeeze was a lifeline, a promise, something daniela had been longing for. the simple act of being held. of being seen.

was that love? is this love?

it was the kind of question that made her stomach twist. love had never been this quiet, this still. love had always been loud, demanding, filled with heavy expectations and pain. but this? this felt different. too different. it felt right. for the first time in what felt like years, daniela allowed herself to believe—that, even for just one moment, that was love. y/n was love.

y/n didn’t say anything. didn’t have to. her hand was enough, the silence between them more than words ever could be. and for a fleeting second, daniela let herself believe she could stay, that she could let herself be loved, get attached, without fear. so for now, she closed her eyes, letting the warmth of y/n’s hand soothe her worries and bring her to another day.

masterlist 🎸⋆⭒˚.⋆ next

how'd i do chat? mb i got carried away lwk n ts didnt quite turn out how i wanted it to be😕

taglist : @meganskiendielsbtc @rosiehrs @artrizzler19 @goofymickeyr @sunshinez4 @urmom2314 @meizinisnumberone @yeetaberry127 @xochitlisbest @ssamlovr @saysirhc @nyssalvr @ninguitar @kristalag @1luvkarina @idleyuri @kathleenmikaelson @sed7ction @hazel-tanthamore22 @yazzyminny @vrtualstar @meiphobic @cassiespoiler @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @taikabui @cceanvvaves @c-yerim @waitsobs @firstclassjaylee @bowforgodjihyo @thepurin @chaepu @bandaidss320 @manonsmartini @haerinkisser @esccecvp @blushmimi TAGLIST CLOSED!

[celebtf]

TOM, THE LOOK-ALIKE AND THE SPIDER-SUIT

Jordan Johnson had built a small but loyal following online. His TikTok account had hundreds of thousands of followers, all captivated by one thing: his uncanny resemblance to Tom Holland.

From lip-syncing iconic Spider-Man lines to recreating Tom’s interviews, Jordan’s content thrived on the illusion. Fans bombarded his comment sections with excitement.

“OMG, you look EXACTLY like him!”

“Are you SURE you’re not his twin?”

“Better than the real thing!”

At first, the attention was exhilarating. Jordan leaned into the role, perfecting Tom’s mannerisms, studying his accent, and even buying clothes that matched Tom’s public appearances.

But as time went on, the praise began to sting.

“You’re just a look-alike,” one comment read. “Cool, but… you’re not him.”

Jordan’s content, once fun, became a bitter reminder of his second-place position in life. People loved him, but only because he reminded them of someone else. He wasn’t Jordan Johnson. He was “Fake Tom.”

The tipping point came when someone stopped him on the street.

“Oh my God, it’s you!” the stranger squealed, pulling out their phone. “I love your Spider-Man movies!”

Jordan opened his mouth to correct them but stopped. What was the point?

The fan took a selfie, thanked him, and walked away without a second glance.

Jordan stood there, seething.

“I’m done being second best,” he muttered under his breath.

That night, staring at the ceiling of his tiny apartment, Jordan came to a decision. He didn’t just want to look like Tom Holland. He wanted to be Tom Holland. And he would do whatever it took to make that happen.

For weeks, Jordan meticulously researched Tom Holland’s life. Social media posts, interviews, paparazzi photos—he gathered every scrap of information he could find. He learned Tom’s routines, his favorite coffee shop, even the layout of his home.

A plumbing issue Tom had mentioned in a recent interview gave Jordan the perfect in. He forged a work order, bought a janitor’s uniform, and prepared a special sedative designed to weaken Tom—just enough to make him vulnerable.

Jordan didn’t just want to meet Tom. He wanted to take everything from him—his fame, his fortune, his

Jordan’s hands trembled as he knocked on the door of Tom’s London home.

The door opened, and there he was. The real Tom Holland.

“Hello? Can I help you?” Tom asked, his voice warm and polite.

Jordan forced a smile. “I’m here to fix the pipes. Routine maintenance.”

Tom hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Come in.”

Jordan followed him inside, clutching his toolbox tightly. Tom led him to the bathroom, chatting casually about the plumbing issue. Jordan nodded along, barely listening, his focus on the small vial hidden in his toolbox.

After a few minutes of fake tinkering, he made his move.

“Hey, before I go, do you mind if we take a photo? Big fan,” Jordan asked, feigning nervousness.

Tom chuckled. “Sure! Let me grab my phone.”

“No need,” Jordan said, pulling out his own. They posed for the photo, and Jordan snapped it, his smirk barely concealed.

“Thanks, mate,” he said, slipping the sedative into the faucet’s filter. He turned the water on, letting it run clear before leaving the room.

But he didn’t leave the house. Instead, he waited just outside the bathroom door, listening.

It didn’t take long. Jordan heard a sharp gasp, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. He pushed the door open slightly and peered inside.

Tom was on his knees, clutching the sink, his face pale and drenched in sweat. His veins glowed faintly blue and red, spider-like patterns spreading across his skin.

“What’s… happening?” Tom choked, his voice trembling.

His muscles tensed and convulsed as the transformation took hold. The glow intensified, and the veins began to shift, forming the outlines of a Spider-Man suit. Tom’s skin seemed to liquefy, merging with the red and blue fabric that now covered his body.

Jordan watched, mesmerized, as Tom’s features softened. His face disappeared beneath the mask, his body shrinking slightly, losing its humanity.

Within moments, Tom was gone. Where he had been stood a perfect Spider-Man suit, limp and lifeless on the floor.

Jordan stepped inside, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Incredible,” he whispered, crouching beside the suit. He ran his fingers over the fabric, feeling its strange, almost organic texture.

“This is it,” he murmured, standing up and beginning to undress.

Jordan slid one leg into the suit, gasping as a surge of energy shot through him. His muscles tensed, growing stronger and more defined.

He pulled the suit over his thighs and waist, shivering as his body began to change. His stomach hardened into chiseled abs, his chest broadened, and his arms thickened with new strength.

“Unreal,” he whispered, flexing his hands as they grew larger, the veins more prominent.

He zipped up the suit, feeling it mold perfectly to his body. Finally, he pulled the mask over his face.

A warmth spread through him, and he felt his face shift. His cheekbones sharpened, his jawline squared, and his voice deepened into Tom’s unmistakable accent.

Jordan pulled off the mask and stared into the mirror.

“Holy…” He touched his face, his heart racing. The reflection was perfect. He was no longer Jordan Johnson.

He was Tom Holland.

Jordan turned to the empty space on the floor where the suit had been.

“Look at you now,” he sneered. “The great Tom Holland, reduced to nothing but fabric. You’re part of me now.”

He flexed his new muscles, admiring his reflection in the mirror.

“I’ll take your roles, your fans, your fame,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “I’ll live your life better than you ever could. And no one will ever know.”

He adjusted the mask, slipping it back over his face.

“Thanks for the life, mate,” he said, his tone cruel. “I think I’ll enjoy it.”

With that, he walked out of the bathroom, now the star the world adored, leaving the real Tom behind—trapped forever as the suit Jordan now wore.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER FIVE

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur wc: 6.3k notes: masterlist ahead? uh yeah i sure hope it does! decided last minute i didn't really care about any real plot action this chapter outside of tess and paige so if you are disappointed by that, sorry but it's better this way, tess and paige are the plot now🤞 accidentally made this chapter kinda important, it lowk got away from me, but i hope you all enjoy 🫶

‘This Month in Review - The Cutest Sports Couple Since Megan and Sue’

Whether you’re a sports fanatic or a casual watcher, there is no denying that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy have taken the sports scene by storm. They are a topic of conversation in every room – and for good reason. Bueckers and Kennedy were top recruiting prospects out of high school, with Bueckers leading the pack as the #1 recruit and Kennedy following close behind as the #2. They are the current leaders of two superstar programs and despite not having played their full collegiate careers, Bueckers and Kennedy have already cemented themselves as players that will go down in history as the greatest to play college basketball at their institutions.

Bueckers and Kennedy are a power couple through and through, and while neither of them have made anything official, it is clear that they have spent this entire offseason together – even several hundred miles apart. Fans have pointed out that their recent TikTok reposts make references to missing a long distance lover or are largely relationship focused. Their Instagram stories often feature each other. From Kennedy’s Instagram, a recent story showcased a short clip of Bueckers holding a LEGO rose, winking as she blew a kiss to the camera. From Bueckers’s Instagram, a recent story included a FaceTime screenshot of Kennedy, grinning as she threw a thumbs up for the photo, and it was affectionately captioned, “My duo 🎮.”

Additionally, they have been noticeably active in each other’s Instagram comment section:

[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: MAY 30, 2023 | BUECKERS IS PHOTOGRAPHED WEARING A LEG SLEEVE, BLUE AND WHITE PATTERNED BASKETBALL SHORTS, AND A BLACK LONG SLEEVED SHIRT ROLLED UP TO HER ELBOWS. SHE IS MID-JUMPER, LEFT ARM EXTENDED AND RIGHT WRIST BENT. USER PAIGEBUECKERS: “TUNNEL VISION ON A MISSION ⏳” | USER TESSKENNEDY25: “I AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY 👁️” END TRANSCRIPTION.]

Their galavanting didn’t end there. They made their relationship known through TikTok live one night, featuring Bueckers, Kennedy, and some of Buecker’s UConn teammates including Aaliyah Edwards and Nika Muhl. The TikTok live was a source of endless laughter, jokes, and games. Again, nothing was officially confirmed, although many viewers posted various screen recordings the morning after, and all fans can agree on is that Bueckers and Kennedy are not slick.

Many are comparing their relationship to Sue Bird and Megan Rapinoe, and we have to admit, the similarity is there. Bueckers and Kennedy are both standout athletes and leaders on dynasty teams. Fans are eagerly awaiting the hard-launch, if only just to confirm what we all know is true.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

JUNE 20, 2023

“Do you have everything, piccola? Brace, heating pad, charger?”

Making a conscious effort to fix her face, Tess resists a sigh and responds, “Yes, mamma, I have everything.” She knows that her mother is just looking out for her, but she’s been through all of her belongings three times now and she knows for a fact that she has everything. If something was missing, she’s certain Paige would have an extra or she’d be able to buy a new one in Massachusetts. 

She got the call from Amaya only a few days ago. To no one’s surprise at all, the media was eating up her and Paige’s fake relationship. Their brand deals were feeling secure in their investments once more and the tabloids were far more concerned about Tess & Paige than they were about Tess’s month-long crash out. With everything aligning once more, Bose actually wanted to sign a joint deal with her and Paige and get them to advertise a new product – standard NIL endorsement stuff, but the icing on the cake was Amaya’s cheerful, “You’re married now!” that nearly made Tess’s heart fall out of her ass.

Tess doesn’t make a habit of being a gullible person, but she genuinely thought Amaya was going to make her and Paige scrap the whole “soft-launch” idea and just come out at the altar with wedding rings. Amaya was quick to clarify it wasn’t actually like that (Thank God), but the Bose representatives wanted to do something corny, monopolize on their traction as a duo, and Tess and Paige would henceforth be named Mrs. and Mrs. Bose.

It was pretty stupid, but a little funny, and as soon as Tess saw her payout, she couldn’t really complain.

“And Paige is getting you from the airport? No Uber?” her father asks for the second time, mostly to clarify.

Tess can’t stop the flush from spreading across her cheeks like she’d been caught red-handed. Truthfully, her parents weren’t haters by any means. They were oddly invested in her and Paige’s ruse – which made lying to them about it so much more difficult, but the both of them seemed to genuinely like Paige despite never speaking to her. They’d been begging for weeks straight for Tess to bring her home so they could meet her since it’s “getting serious,” although they were pleased to know she’d probably be around by Christmas. She and Paige had this commercial to film, then Paige would have to return to Storrs for summer practices (Tess wouldn’t be returning until the semester officially started – she wants to work as much as she could with Terri, no hate to Craig), then Paige was set to spend early August in Europe with her teammates. Both of them would be extremely busy in the coming months, especially once the season started, so they weren’t expecting to see each other all too much outside of FaceTime.

“Yes, Paige will pick me up,” Tess confirms, zipping up her backpack one last time. “She flew in this morning.” Tess tactfully leaves out the part where Paige had completely rearranged her flight schedule for her. Paige argued that it “wasn’t safe” to put her safety in the hands of a random Uber driver given her knee and that she hated late flights anyways. Tess knows that Paige truthfully doesn’t give a fuck about flight times, but arguing with her was near impossible.

Her father gives an approving nod, and much to Tess’s well-hidden anxiety induced annoyance, the three of them do one last check of her belongings before they load up in the car to drop her off at the airport. Tess tries her best to tune into the conversation, although part of her is still nervous about flying. She’s been cleared to travel for a week or two now. Despite that, she can’t help but anticipate the worst going wrong. Amaya splurged on first class so she’d have plenty of leg room and she’s flying on a very reputable airline. She has to remind herself that realistically, she’ll be perfectly fine.

It’s a quiet morning at the airport as her father pulls into the drop off lane, putting the car in park. “Text us as soon as you land, okay, piccola?” her mother tells her.

Tess flashes the both of them a comforting smile, leaning forward to give them quick hugs. “Of course.” And with that, she grabs her suitcase and her backpack, says her goodbyes, and waits for her parents to pull off before she walks through the airport in search of her gate. She’s only stopped a few times by fans asking for photos, which she dutifully poses for, then she makes her way to the counter to check in. She only has to wait a few more moments to board the plane. Amaya set her up with a secluded seat in the back. She snags a quick photo of the tarmac and sends it to Paige, whose response comes quickly.

Tell your pilot to take a shortcut or sum I miss you

you use that line on all the girls back home?

Is it working?

maybe a little

Then no All my lines are for Tess Kennedy and Tess Kennedy only

good

🤔 Are you forgetting something?

miss you too pb 👎

I know 😁

so modest gtg we’re about to take off

I’ll be waiting 🫶

Tess simply reacts to Paige’s last message with a heart, unable to wipe the smile off her face. She shuts her phone off and settles in for the hour long flight.

When the plane touches down in Framingham, Massachusetts, Tess is full of restless energy. It’s equal parts relief and excitement; however, after spending the morning traveling, she’s ready to get back to the hotel and get a nap in before she has to be productive. She hauls her bag over her shoulder and exits the plane with the other passengers as she waits for her phone to power back on. When it does, she sees that a text from Paige is already waiting for her.

I got your suitcase I’m like right in front of the gate

Tess sends back a thumbs up, something she’s sure Paige is annoyed by, and slides her phone back into her pocket. She follows the crowd out. Her heart thrums with anticipation, even as she tries to shove down those complicated feelings. Friends are allowed to miss each other, but her longing feels different somehow. She and Paige were practically inseparable for the month they were apart. Knowing that they’re about to reunite in person leaves her giddy with anticipation.

The crowd clears. Paige stands tall and proud in the center of the boarding area, an easy smile on her face and her arms hiding something behind her back. When Paige finally spots her, her smile widens and she begins taking swift steps towards her. Tess matches her strides, falling into her embrace with a soft laugh and overwhelming relief. One of Paige’s arms loop around her waist, squeezing her gently. “Missed you,” Paige murmurs, her cheek pressed to her head, and Tess doesn’t bother fighting the flush or the enamored upward curve of her lips.

“Missed you too, P,” she confesses. Paige’s arm tightens around her waist and she can feel the smile the blonde presses to the crown of her head. She pulls back, uncaring of the way the crowd clamors or the phones pointed at them, fully focused on Paige. Her hair is pulled back into a wavy ponytail, her face bare (yet she’s still undeniably beautiful), and she’s dressed in a UConn hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants. Simple, but Paige is good at pulling just about anything off. With a mischievous grin, Paige displays the bouquet of flowers she’d been hiding behind her back, and Tess can’t quite hide the surprise on her features. “Paige – what?”

Paige carefully pushes them into Tess’s hands. They’re roses and in shockingly good quality, as if they’d been plucked directly from a garden rather than purchased from a grocery store. “Saw ‘em and had to get ‘em for you. Figured you deserved a little better than that LEGO flower after these past two months, yeah?”

Tess is speechless, her mouth opening and closing much like a fish’s. No one has ever gotten her flowers before, high school graduation aside. Paige did this completely on her own whims, and that thought alone makes a fresh blush creep up her neck. She glances at Paige, a soft smile spreading across her face. “These are beautiful, P. Thank you.”

Paige’s grin turns tender, her face clearly pleased as she pulls Tess in by her waist once more, careful to not squash the flowers. “‘Course, ma,” she says like it’s the easiest thing in the world, which, for a girl like Paige, it probably is. That thought alone is sobering and Tess remembers where they are, adrenaline rushing into her mouth as Paige releases her. “Ready to go, Mrs. Bose?”

“So fucking corny,” Tess groans, but Paige’s joke is enough for the tension to melt away, for Tess to forget all about the sudden sadness she’d felt as Paige hugged her. “Lead the way, Mrs. Bose.” Paige cocks a wry smirk at her and does just that, her left hand reaching for the handle of Tess’s suitcase. Her free hand brushes against Tess’s, a silent question in her eyes. One glance at the crowd makes her heart race, but Paige’s eyes are soft, understanding, and all the convincing she needs. She links her fingers together with Paige’s, relishing in the squeeze Paige gives her in reassurance. Tess tries not to think too hard about how well their hands fit together – the blonde’s are just slightly larger, enveloping her own in a way that should not be as comforting as it is, and her thumb mindlessly brushes against her knuckle.

Paige leads them through the busy airport, the crowd parting for them, and Tess hardly pays it any attention as she gets lost in her racing thoughts. They’re just friends. Sure, no one in her life is as close to her in the way Paige is right now, but they just have their own thing going on right now. Pretending to be each other’s girlfriend requires a lot of commitment that neither of them have otherwise experienced. Tess was never one for romance – it wasn’t in the cards for someone like her. Growing up, she was taller than most other girls – and boys – her age. A lot of people weren’t into that. Then she realized she didn’t even like boys, which never bothered her, but she felt as though she was missing out on some crucial part of girlhood because she wasn’t desired or yearned for. She’ll be the first to admit it sounds stupid. There’s many people out there with issues far more serious than whether or not they were somebody’s crush in high school. She’s out of her element in so many ways, and she can’t help but think back to that initial burst of anxiety she felt as soon as the severity of the situation finally hit her. She’s in way over her head, she’s realizing it now, and she fears that it won’t be long until people realize she has no idea what she’s doing.

But Paige? One glance at her, at the easy expression on her face, the slight furrow of her brow as she scans the airport signs for the exit, and Tess can tell she’s not freaking the fuck out like she is. Paige is vastly more experienced in this situation than Tess is and they both know it. Paige said she could do casual. This is essentially what this was, right? All of the romance without the intimacy. Tess should have told her right then and there that she was not built for casual. It always spins out of control, and Tess is probably living proof of that.

This is all physical, she tells herself, unsure of if she even believes it. You don’t actually like her. She’s attractive – that’s all there is to it. And for now, that explanation is good enough for her. She’s going to do these commercials with Paige, hard-launch their fake relationship, and then they’re going to be far too busy to see each other until the holidays when they visit each other’s families to, again, hard-launch their fake relationship and tell the biggest lie to the people closest to them. That time apart will be enough for Tess to get her head back on straight and realize there's absolutely nothing going on between her and Paige that should be of any (reasonable) concern.

She almost believes that. At least until Paige smiles at her as she loads her suitcase into the trunk of her rental, opening the passenger door for her. Tess’s heart swells and she realizes just how unfathomably fucked she is.

JUNE 21, 2023

After a calm night spent watching Grey’s Anatomy – Paige’s request, obviously – Tess and Paige were up bright and early Wednesday morning to drive out to the Bose main office for filming. Paige entrusted her with the aux and promised to not complain about her music choices as long as Tess bought breakfast, which was a deal Tess was all too happy to make as she directed Paige to the nearest Dunkin. She made sure to snag plenty of pictures for the Instagram hard launch they planned to post before they went their separate ways. Her personal favorite was the one of Paige sitting in the driver’s seat, legs wide and pressed against the door and the center console, sunglasses perched over the bridge of her nose as she held both of their coffees. The blonde sported an easy smile with her hair in her game-day braids and her thin, black fleece jacket was unzipped, showcasing the UConn shirt she was wearing under it. Paige made sure to get one of her, too, but it was less presentable and far too candid – Paige had swiped whipped cream across her nose and photographed her mid-gasp. Tess begged her to delete it, but Paige’s infectious laughter caused all of the indignation to drain from her body.

With breakfast and coffee secured, Paige drives the rest of the way to their filming location as Tess hums along to Omar Apollo. The silence in the car is calm, both of them comfortable in simply sitting next to each other as the music plays. Paige shifts, her elbow resting on the center console as she drives with her left hand. Her fingers mindlessly twirl the straw in her cup. The movement catches Tess’s eye and she’s suddenly overcome with the urge to grab her hand.

It’s domestic, in a sense – sitting next to Paige in the car as they drive down the road with the windows down. The weather holds a gentle bite, not overbearingly cold, but chilly enough that it makes Tess feel a little more tethered, that she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

In her last session with Yvette, the psychologist recommended she just let go. As obvious as the advice is, and despite it being easier said than done, Tess is interested in giving it an honest shot. For years, she’s carried so much anxiety with her, worried about whether or not she’s doing something right or worried about how she’s being perceived. Sometimes, it takes a little bit of discomfort to move forward.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Tess props her arm up on the center console. Paige is close enough that she can feel her jacket sleeve brushing against her arm. She can feel Paige’s gaze on her, the gentle curiosity, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead, watching as the trees pass by in green blurs. Then she feels her move, feels her knuckles brush against her hand; and with her heart thrumming in her chest, Tess wordlessly unclenches her fist in invitation. Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s linking their fingers together, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Tess spots her smile from the corner of her eye, and knowing that Paige is watching her, too, she allows a smile of her own to grace her features. Nothing has ever felt as right as Paige’s hand in hers in a long time. As she continues driving, Tess can’t help herself from feeling at peace.

When the two of them finally make it back to their hotel room after spending the day filming, Tess collapses onto her bed with a dramatic groan, immediately reaching for her pillow and wrapping both arms around it, pressing her chin into the cushion. She hears Paige snort from somewhere in the room, followed by rustling as she shrugs her jacket off her shoulders and throws it haphazardly on her bed. “Tired?” Paige asks teasingly.

Tess hums in confirmation. Tired doesn’t even begin to cover it. She was up early, was on her feet for most of the day, and all of the reshoots and retakes weren’t doing her any favors. She knows she’s crashing out for no reason – this is literally her job – but she’s equal parts tired and hangry and she honestly just wants a hot shower.

“Want me to DoorDash somethin’?” Paige asks, as if reading her mind. She kicks off her shoes and falls into bed next to Tess, already pulling out her phone.

Tess cracks one eye open as the mattress dips under their shared weight, glancing at Paige, who crosses one leg over the other as she gets comfortable. “Chick-fil-A?” she requests. “Nuggets and fries? My card’s in my wallet.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “Hell no. You got breakfast.”

Tess rolls her eyes. “Breakfast and the aux.”

“All you played was sad, break-up R&B,” Paige grumbles. “I really should make you cover dinner after that bullshit. Feels like there’s something you’re tryna tell me.”

“Pretty sure I’m not contractually allowed to break up with you,” Tess retorts. “So don’t worry.”

The blonde hums, unconvinced, before she turns off her phone and throws it in between the two of them. “Dasher’s gonna be here in 15,” she says, gazing down at her. “You good? Your knee okay?”

Figuring her current position probably isn’t the greatest for said knee, Tess rolls onto her back and stretches her leg out with a sigh. Her elbow brushes against Paige’s stomach and Tess shifts again, not realizing how little space she’d left between them after she moved. “‘M good,” she says. “Should probably get an ice pack just in case.”

Paige is rolling off the bed before Tess even registers what’s going on. She watches her pull the lid off of the ice box on the desk, scooping up a handful and depositing it in a plastic bag. She tests the seal, and once she’s satisfied, she wraps the makeshift pack in a towel, plucks a pillow off of her bed, and holds the ice pack in between her teeth as she gently lifts Tess’s leg, sliding the pillow underneath. Tess’s breath hitches at the slightest contact, and despite the chill of the ice pack, Paige’s hands are inexplicably warm on her skin.

“Is this the Dr. Bueckers the ladies told me about?” Tess asks with a coy smile, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. The way Paige was gazing at her left too much for her to want, eyes soft and attentive, and for Tess, it was easier to hide the longing with humor.

“You play too much,” Paige says, but her words lack any real heat as she rounds the bed once more and crawls back in, reclining against the pile of pillows. She’s closer than she was before she left. Tess can smell her perfume, the shampoo she’d used the night before. Paige is magnetic, that much Tess knew to be true – she’d felt it the very moment Paige stopped her outside of the conference room to inform her that she’d be tagging along for PT. It’s only now that she realizes how strong her pull was as she unconsciously leans into Paige’s space, the blonde’s arm raising to wrap around her, fingers splayed against her shoulder.

“Do I?” she asks, if only to fill the silence. Paige’s thumb begins to trace soft patterns on her skin. It’s difficult for her to focus on anything but that, but she cranes her neck, finding that Paige is already staring at her. Tess flushes under her gaze, though she refuses to break eye contact.

Paige’s lips quirk as she responds, “Yeah. You do.” She seems as though she’s content to leave it at that, but a couple beats pass before she’s speaking again. “You want a lot of things you think you can’t have.” Tess’s brow raises at her words, but she remains quiet. “I see it in film. You’re an insane three-point shooter but you rarely take middies or layups unless it’s absolutely free. And you do this thing – it’s like you’re faking the drive, and I can tell you really want to do it, but you just…don’t. You’re not faking. You’re just scared to get out of your comfort zone and go for it. Scared to get close.”

Tess doesn’t think they’re talking about basketball anymore. Despite the sharpness of her words, Paige’s tone is gentle, and the smile on her face is both confusing and frustrating. Frustrating because Tess knows she’s right; confusing because Paige knows she’s right, but it seems like she’s not completely confident in Tess taking that leap. Honestly, part of Tess is tempted to prove her right. She knows they could drop this topic right now and Paige wouldn’t press her. The other part of her knows they’ve come this far together, that she’s come this far. Doesn’t she owe it to herself, to Paige, to be vulnerable? To take the drive into the paint, risk getting fouled, instead of hovering at the perimeter to take the same shot she’s taken thousands of times already?

She thinks she does. Tess is tired of wanting, of yearning for the things well within her reach if only she had the confidence to go after them. But perhaps there is a thin line between confidence and bravery, between knowing and trying. So she shifts, feeling a little braver, angling her body towards Paige’s, fists the collar of her UConn t-shirt, and pulls her closer and closer until their lips finally meet.

Paige gasps against her, surprised, before her good sense returns and she melts into Tess. The hand on her shoulder skims across her skin to rest on the nape of her neck, her right hand reaching up to hold her face. As Paige guides her jaw to get better access, her kiss deep and consuming, she takes full advantage of Tess’s jilted sigh. Her hands fall from Paige’s collar, finding purchase on her stomach and her waist in search of stabilization. Paige leaves her breathless and woozy, and if she didn’t feel secure in the way she was holding her, then Tess would be afraid of floating away completely.

They break away, chests heaving, flushes down to their collarbones. Tess’s eyes open with a flutter of her eyelashes. Paige is already staring at her, her eyes wide in some sort of awe, pupils dilated. Her lips are swollen, shiny, and Tess can’t help the feeling of smug satisfaction that comes with knowing she did that. Paige Bueckers looks like a mess and it’s all because of her. “Still think I’m scared?” she asks, voice hoarse, her fingers gripping the fabric of Paige’s shirt.

The smile that spreads across Paige’s face is raw, real, visibly affectionate despite her next words. “Yeah.” Tess almost rolls her eyes, but Paige’s hand drops to the base of her throat, her middle finger brushing against her pulse point. She doesn’t apply any sort of pressure, but the weight of her hand makes her head spin anyways. “But s’okay.”

Tess chuckles. “To be scared?”

Paige hums an affirmative, shifting again, and she presses her lips against Tess’s. It’s different this time; firm, lingering, and insistent, almost as though she’s trying to take everything she possibly could. The weight of Paige’s body against hers is exhilarating and it makes her heart race. She can feel Paige’s smirk against her lips. Tess is instantly reminded of the fact that Paige can feel the thrumming of her pulse. She pushes her back with a hand to her chest, smiling at the rumble of laughter that reverberates through her body. “S’okay to be scared,” Paige says seriously, her thumb wiping away the smear of gloss on Tess’s lip. “But you don’t gotta be. Not with me.”

Tess meets her gaze, studying her features, the sheer honesty in her expression. Paige releases her jaw, her hands reaching down to untangle Tess’s fingers from where they’re still clenched in her shirt, fitting their hands together. “Don’t overthink it,” Paige whispers, understanding Tess’s mannerisms by heart now.

But the peace is always short-lived. Tess frowns, her voice almost a murmur when she asks, “What are we doing?” Paige’s eyes widen slightly. Tess wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been so fine-tuned to Paige’s every move for the past month. “The rules, Paige, we agreed–”

“We haven’t broken any of the rules,” Paige states firmly. She squeezes Tess’s hands, her throat bobbing as she swallows. “We communicate. We don’t see other people. We don’t tell other people. And we…” Paige struggles to find the words. “We don’t have to label this. It’s just us.” Tess’s face softens, the furrow in her brow relaxing. “‘M just…glad it was here. You and me, no cameras. And... we can just say we practiced for the public, right?” Paige’s thumb brushes against her hand as she stares at her imploringly, almost as though she’s pleading for Tess to agree, to stop thinking and just do it.

Practice. That word fills her with simultaneous relief and dread, but she remembers Paige’s words. Don’t overthink it. Tess understands that they’re walking a very thin line right now. Why should she let her brain ruin it? They don’t have to complicate what they have right now. And for now, that’s good enough for her. “Practicing is fine,” she confirms, feeling a little more confident.

When Paige’s eyes light up, her lips quirking into a smile, Tess believes that she’s made the right decision. “Yeah?”

Tess nods, flashing a smile that’s unexpectedly genuine. “Yeah.” She pulls Paige in closer by her hands, their lips brushing again, but before she can melt into her completely, Paige’s phone rings and the two of them snap apart.

“Fuck,” Paige groans, her brows drawn tight in annoyance. She hardly looks twice at her phone as she picks it up and answers it. “Hello?” Tess can barely make out what the person on the other end is saying, but the tension leaves Paige’s body. “Okay, I’ll be down. Thank you.” Tess looks at her curiously as she hangs up the phone. “Cockblocked by the dasher,” she says solemnly, unable to hide her pout. “Gimme five minutes, I have to go meet him.”

Tess can’t wipe the smile off her face as Paige rolls off the bed again, slipping on her shoes and rummaging around in her bag for her wallet. Before she leaves, Tess catches her by her wrist, pulling her down to her level and planting a chaste kiss to her lips – a far cry from the one they’d been cheated out of. “Hurry back,” she says. “I’m hangry.”

“Two minutes,” Paige breathes out, grinning stupidly, pushing Tess’s hair out of her face. Then she’s gone, and Tess is left alone in the silence of their room. If any of this had happened a week prior, Tess would probably be spiraling, but she’s committed to turning over a new leaf. She’s not going to overthink it, she’s not going to crash out, and most of all, she’s going to accept this new development in her and Paige’s friendship for what it is without trying to second guess whatever it could mean. They can just be friends who kiss now. That’s a thing. They don’t have to label anything. They can just be them, and as far as Tess is concerned, she’s okay with that.

Paige makes it back in record time, Chick-fil-A bag and drink carrier in hand and slightly out of breath. At Tess’s brow raise, Paige shrugs cheekily, handing over a milkshake. “You said you were hangry,” she teases, sliding back into bed next to her. “I’m too young to die.”

Tess rolls her eyes as Paige begins dividing out their food, passing the sauce and napkins. “You’re such an asshole,” she says good-naturedly.

“You kissed me,” Paige reminds her, as if Tess could ever forget about that. “What does that say about you?”

“I’m a very charitable person,” Tess supplies modestly. Paige snorts like she doesn’t believe that, but Tess smiles regardless.

They continue chatting throughout dinner. Paige pretends like she doesn’t notice Tess stealing her fries, although Paige ends up using most of Tess’s sauce, so they call it even at the end. Paige throws their trash away while Tess scrolls on her phone, only glancing up when Paige returns, hooking her chin over her shoulder and throwing a casual arm over Tess’s waist. “Time to break the internet?”

“You better not post anything embarrassing,” Tess grumbles, enjoying the weight of Paige’s body on hers.

Paige hides her laugh in the fabric of her shirt. “I couldn’t if I tried.” She pulls out her phone, opening Instagram and begins drafting a new post. Tess’s eyes catch on some of Paige’s photos as she scrolls through them. There’s random screenshots of Bible quotes, a concerning amount of selfies, a lot of basketball related things, and pictures of Tess have somehow become a new trend in her gallery. From the photo of Tess with cream on her nose, FaceTime candids, to photos from their shoot today that Tess wasn’t even aware Paige had taken. Tess softens. Most of the pictures were nice. “Could get a new one,” Paige suggests, opening her camera and pointing it at the mirror on the opposite wall, displaying the two of them pressed close together. Tess rolls her eyes, chuckling, but Paige takes the photo before she can react.

“Paige Madison,” Tess sighs. She can feel Paige smile against her.

“C’mon,” she goads. “We look good.” Tess can’t really argue with that one, so she leans her head against Paige’s and begins drafting her own Instagram post. They work in silence as they select the best photos for the hard launch. It’s only been a month and a half, but Tess feels both fondness and nostalgia as she scrolls through their photos and their memories. She has a couple of photos from PT with Paige, FaceTime screenshots, the photo of Paige holding their coffees, and photos of Paige trying to style the Mrs. Bose earbuds they were promoting. She knows there was a reason why Paige came into her life, but she can’t help feeling like she showed up at the right time; it could have been anyone else – college athletics has an endless amount of controversial athletes who are in need of image repair – yet being paired with Paige feels like a stroke of fate.

Tess selects only a few photos, not wanting to go overboard. She includes their first picture at PT – Paige holding the ice pack over her knee, the FaceTime screenshot of Paige showcasing the LEGO rose, Paige and their coffees, and a mirror selfie they’d taken after stylists did their hair and makeup for the shoot. She captions it “here’s to tess kennedy’s worst kept secret. thank you for coming into my life when you did,” and while this hard launch is not real, the sentiment is.

Paige finishes at around the same time she does, a soft smile on her face as they swap phones to look at each other’s work. True to her word, Paige kept the embarrassment to a minimum, although the first photo she selected was the one with whipped cream on her nose. Tess shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it’s quickly growing on her. The rest of the photos consist of the mirror selfie Paige just took, a screenshot of Tess modeling the gold dress for her, a bible quote – 1 Corinthians 16:14 – and, shockingly enough, an older photo of them from their freshman year, shaking hands after the first game they’d played against one another. They’re both cheesing. Tess remembers that loss vividly. The media called it The Battle of the Freshmen, mostly because it was the long awaited match-up between Tess and Paige, who’d been hailed as freshmen phenoms, two top recruits. In that game, they both accounted for the majority of their team’s points. Paige was responsible for 31 of UConn’s 63 while Tess led South Carolina with 30 of their 59.

Tess couldn’t even be upset at the loss. She and Paige played their hearts out, and honestly, playing against Paige was the highlight of the game. From their expressions alone, you would have thought they both walked home with trophies that night. Tess could argue that she did. Playing with Paige makes you a better player, sure, but playing against her? Tess learned so much from her game, although she would never admit that to Paige; her ego is too overinflated and Tess will not contribute to growing it.

“Where’d you find the last one?” Tess asks curiously, handing Paige’s phone back.

Paige does the same, her face lighting up with a soft smile. “Got tagged in it a couple times,” she says. “Felt right.” Tess can’t argue against that, smiling too. “At the same time?” Tess hums in confirmation, her thumb hovering over the post button, and simultaneously, they both share the hard launch to their pages. There is a very brief period of stillness before the notifications and comments begin pouring in. Tess swipes over to Paige’s post and only then does she read the caption, “And her pink skies will keep me warm.”

“Cheesy ass Frank lyric!” Tess exclaims with a laugh.

Paige looks inexplicably smug, pleased with herself. “Full circle,” she says.

“Full circle,” Tess agrees, her smile turning tender.

It’s at that moment that everything finally clicks. The lyrics filter through her brain. And a new day will bring about the dawn. And her pink skies will keep me warm. She can hear it perfectly, Frank’s voice singing to her, “Abandon mission, you must be kiddin’, this shit feelin’ different, shit feelin’ different to me.” All of the thoughts she’d been ignoring, the uncomfortable conversation with herself she’d been avoiding. She tried to push it down, but the realization came into focus with stunning clarity. Tess liked Paige. Tess likes her.

That was the entire reason why everything has felt so different. It wasn’t because she and Paige were spending so much time together, why Paige has become nearly synonymous with Tess’s recovery. It wasn’t because their friendship was just different. It was because it wasn’t friendship at all. It was always something more, even from the start.

Tess feels as though the floor beneath her could splinter, a giant crack down the middle that would send her tumbling to the ground below. She likes Paige. She has feelings for Paige. Calling it by any other name wouldn’t do her any good. She broke their rules and it’s taken her this long to realize.

“You good?” Paige asks her, her brows drawn into a furrow, concern etched onto her face as her hand reaches for Tess’s. She hadn’t realized she was shaking.

Tess clears her throat, nodding. “Yeah,” she lies, hoping that it sounds believable. Bree’s words come back to her. You’re lying to Paige, which is why you’re fumbling the bag. She was right all along. Tess could laugh at the absurdity of it all if Paige wasn’t sitting next to her. “Just need a shower, I think.”

She decides right then and there that Paige can’t know. She can’t know that she’s close to ruining it all, close to undoing all of the work they’d done to restore their reputations. That she’d broken their rule after all. That she let this get out of hand, and if Paige knew, their friendship would be destroyed for sure, and Tess isn’t sure if she could handle not having Paige around.

Paige hums, seemingly convinced, but all Tess can think about is what she’s done.

[mons7errr]

list of canine packers

note: this post contains photos of silicone (aka FAKE) animal-like penises.

all prices are in USD.

weredog's canine sheath

starting off this list with the packer i own. i absolutely love this packer, it's durable (i sent it through the washer and dryer by accident and it came out fine) and gives me great species euphoria. the core is removable and repositionable (image two), which is the main reason i bought it.

its main downside is its size, especially if you're a small person like myself. i have a medium (the smallest size it comes in) and it still looks pretty large when it's in your pants, even with baggy jeans -- i do NOT recommend wearing it with tight pants.

it is not budget-friendly ($82+) but i do recommend it if you can afford it. it only comes in one firmness.

beau's sheath

this packer is by @batbitestoys and was my second choice when i was looking for a canine packer. i like that it comes in multiple size options, and i love the texture and appearance of the fur detailing. it's a good a bit smaller than weredog's canine packer so this might be one to look at if you're interested in a more lowkey appearance.

beau's sheath is a bit more budget-friendly and starts at $25.

vulpini design's sheath

this is the cheapest packer on this list, starting at just $15, so very good if you're looking for a starter sheath. it's got a very simple and lowkey design, so it's less likely to get stares if you plan to wear it in public. it can come in one solid color, or split colors for the sheath and tip.

it comes in three sizes and three firmness types.

gorgon transformer packer

this is a unique packer because of its swappable design. the shafts are swappable (image two) if you decide you're not feeling so doggish that day.

it sits at a solid $56 and comes in one size only. i think it only comes in one firmness.

fredrick's sheath

these packers are sold by @kuduvoodoo. i love the fur texturing on this one, and it always seems to come in fun colors.

it comes in two sizes (mini and small) making it another packer that would probably be good for everyday use. it's quite budget-friendly (currently available models are $25 to $35 USD).

darque path's skoll

i just learned about this packer today, but honestly i love it. i appreciate the care put into the size of the shaft and its knot. custom models can include up to three colors and can be made in a variety of patterns.

it only comes in one size, but has three different firmness types available. it is not super budget-friendly ($61+) but it's cute and i like it.

[iid-smile]

hidden inventory students: headcanons

gojo, geto, shoko, haibara, nanami

gojo can scream in the most high pitched way ever. this usually happens when his ego gets to him during a mission and gets snuck up on from behind.

gojo has ripped his pants multiple times on different occasions. the worst one is when a girl he was flirting with dropped something, so he squats down and just like that, and rip right down the middle. he was wearing bright pink boxers with a pizza pattern btw... sometimes, he's not even shy about it.

gojo has the worst balance on trains. he has to lean against something or sit down because his legs shake like crazy. will always fall on the person next to him when the train stops, slow or fast it doesn't matter, even if the train doesn't move anybody else.

gojo frequently sends geto selfies with the most weird things. burnt food, ant's nest, inside of a truck, you name it.

when nobody's looking, geto pins back his bangs. he keeps a hairclip that shoko gifted him in his pocket, because he refuses to admit that they actually do get in the way.

geto has horrible back pain but the best posture. sits straight up as if he's been taped to the back of a chair. when he's walking? um... that's a different story.

geto matches other people's energy. it's not over the top, but he can adapt to all sorts of personalities and humour, both negatively and positively. it's most apparent with gojo and haibara. his whole entire mindset can change depending on who he's talking to.

geto has more haircare products than anything, not even skincare comes close. ask him about a particular shampoo or hair oil, and he can manage to go on a twenty minute rant about why you shouldn't buy it. never gives recommendations though (gatekeeper)

shoko laughs embarrassingly loud on purpose when anybody makes a bad joke. she does it most when guys try to catcall her or ask her out. also does it to gojo, but more as a joke because she likes how sulky he gets. it's actually kind of scary how she laughs too...

shoko hides her real cigarettes in a fake/candy cigarette box. may or may not keep an emergency lighter in there as well, but she doesn't know it's complete out. she does this so yaga doesn't find out she smokes.

shoko naps all the time during boring classes. poke her, shout in her ear, she will not wake up until something subconscious in her brain hears the school bell go off.

shoko prints off every photo she takes with a classmate. she sticks them on the wall of her dorm room, and separates them by person. the ones with utahime and meimei are put where she can easily see them and decorated with stickers. always puts a pink heart next to gojo's face for special reasons.

haibara is so overly positive it pisses people off. he always sees the good in people, so if a thief tries to rob him, he willingly hands his stuff over, because he always gives to "people in need". he gets upset when the thief gives him his stuff back and walks off.

haibara frequently compliment on how much people eat. we know his type is girls who eat a lot (i think) so he gets happy when somebody around him is just enjoying food and letting loose. doesn't really care if said person finds him weird, and he always buys them another little side dish or dessert.

haibara always looks out for other people. if he's in a crowded place like a party or amusement park, he always manages to find people at unexpected times and ask if they're okay/having fun. always checks the infirmary room just to make sure nobody's injured.

haibara is a natural magnet to children. somehow knows exactly how to play and communicate with them. maybe has siblings of his own, because he seems like the kind of guy that is the oldest of 5+ siblings yet still manages to have younger brother vibes.

nanami never poses for pictures. if he has to be in one via peer pressure, he stands straight, arms to his sides, and a grumpy look on his face (🧍‍♂️)

nanami spends a lot of time doing his hair. i know it doesn't look like he would, but he does. he uses a bunch of hairspray, so those strands do not move AT ALL. it's actually so hard and stiff if someone tries to touch it. because he puts so much, he has to wash his hair every day. legend has it that nobody's seen what his hair with no product looks like.

nanami has the worst attitude to those younger than him, but is so respectful to elders. like, it could be a whole 360 to what he's usually like. 90 degree bows, formal language and everything. bonus! shoko actually teases him the most about this.

nanami loves everyone in the group. dear, dear nanami... he's never open with his feelings. i don't think he could genuinely imagine his life being any more interesting than it is now if he hadn't joined jujutsu tech. it's not obvious, but he's always wishing the best for those around him. (we all know how that ended cough cough)

[cheesycatz]

The Making of: Life-Size Malworm Plush

(Wormton AU)

STATS

16 ft 3 in (495 cm) long

Total time: 150 hours

Material Cost: $124

Theoretical minimum cost (based on seamstress wage): $2,524

(Progress photos and commentary below)

I'll be referring to my life-size wormton plush as "malworm" for convenience sake.

Unlike my Spamton NEO, Caine, and Fake Peppino plushies, I didn't spend a lot of time on concept art. Since I planned to make the malworm plush as close as possible to its 2D design, I didn't have to add much stylization, other than simplifying some details (no way in hell was I going to make 104 separate embroidered stitches for the segments of his toes, sorry). I mainly used the planning stage to calculate how wide the body pieces needed to be, plotting it out in 1/4 in : 3 in scale and using circumference formula to find the values I needed. I planned to make it around 10 feet long, the length of a young adult malworm. A lot of this project was improv, but, I mean, it wasn't my first or second or third time making a spamton centipede.

The head was quite a complicated shape, so I carved a tiny model out of craft foam, covered one half of it in masking tape, then cut the masking tape mask (hah) into flat pieces. I then traced the pieces onto graph paper and manually scaled them up by using the fact that I wanted the nose to be 1 ft long as reference. The rest of the pattern pieces were very simple, as wormton's teeth, body, legs, etc were very easy to translate into 2D shapes. I used old school notes as paper for the body, as I needed a lot of it. It was entertaining cutting exerpts of Moby Dick and English Renaissance biographies into body parts. I ended up making the body significantly longer; I had to spend $100 dollars on fur anyways, so why not make a maximum size one?

Making the pattern pieces took around 8 hours. While waiting for the fur to ship, I started cutting out the teeth, legs, and eyes. By the time the fur arrived, I had already sewn 36 worm teeth. I did an 11hr all-nighter to cut all the fur in one sitting the day it arrived. After a long vacuuming session and an uptake in the amount of polyester fiber in my lungs, I finished cutting the pieces, taking about 18 hours and 40 minutes.

As usual, the head was the first thing I worked on. It was...kind of wonky once I flipped it inside out. I trimmed some of the fur so that I could actually see what was happening. The main issues were the lack of any forehead, the nose being way too wide, and the cheeks being too flat. I did some ladder stitching as well as modifying the thing from the inside, and eventually made the head look much better. The cheeks still don't stick out that much still, but I'm happy with how the head looks now. I think it conquered the sopping wet owl resemblance. I inserted wire into the nose and jaws to help them keep their shape.

When I started this project, I wasn't sure whether to make it based off of Wormton or just a copyright-free malworm; I decided to do both. I went with red for the non-Spamton version, as I think it really fits the cartoony fly/mothman-style cryptid look malworms are supposed to have.

I sewed a square pouch into the throat and put in all those teeth. I used hot glue to wrap blue squares around a wire for the proboscis, because I think I would've gone bonkers cuckoo bananas if I had to hand sew that entire thing. The throat pouch holds the proboscis when it's not extended, as well as anything else I wanted to shove in there. I never measured it, but it's around 4-5 ft long. I finally made the Spamton... eye patches(?) and a pair of eyelids, though I didn't end up using them in the photo shoot. I also made a new pair of nostrils, as the old ones kind of got swallowed up from all the plastic surgery I was giving him

Now that the head was finished, I got to work on the body. I sewed the white belly and segments of the body together. I left most of the tail open, as the fur was too thick for me to flip it out at a certain point. I worked on the legs, next. After living out my cosplay dreams by putting the claws on my fingers like bugles chips, I grouped the claws together and sewed most of each leg and foot together, leaving me with many pairs of charred drumsticks (did not taste good)

I attached an extra long wire structure into each set of claws, then threaded the wire through each respective leg and stuffed them. I ladder stitched the claws to each foot, then stuffed each with some plastic beans in order to give the feet weight. I then finished sewing each foot shut. I now had a pile of disembodied limbs and one very long scarf.

I wound many long pieces of wire together to create an armature for the body. While the plush's body is way too heavy to be properly posable, the wire does still give some structure. I wrapped the extra long ends of the legs' wires to the metal spine, using the body's leg holes for reference. I then pulled the body up the metal armature like a sock.

I pulled the legs through their respective holes and stuffed the body. It was the first time the malworm was huggable! It's sort of like an oversized body pillow, in a way. I had to ladder-stich all the limbs, the head, and the rest of the tail, as it would've been completely impossible to flip inside out. It was quite difficult to do on furry fabric, and my thread frequently broke from the force I had to pull with to keep the stitches tight. Eventually, I got everything attached to some degree.

The last details I worked on were the mane, tail tufts, and scopula pads. The mane and tail tufts were ladder stitched onto the body, but I decided to use glue to attach the pads to the feet. I think the extra blue details make his proboscis fit much better, and who doesn't love spider paw pads? I also glued some velcro to the eye patches so that they stay attached better. They slide under the black eye rings.

My malworm was finally finished! I tried to put a lot of effort into the photo shoot so that people who don't know about the AU can enjoy it. I wanted to make it seem like some weird entity whose only goal is obtaining more Spamton brainrot. Hence it making Spamton on Mario Kart DS under the bed, obsessing over the Spamton Plush, inspecting the Spamton Shrine, and just generally harassing the photographer (me, I guess?). I wanted to capture the silliness, creepiness, and lack of respect for personal space that Spamton is known for. I thought about giving him a bag of doritos under the bed like that one image of the isopods eating them, but went with the DS instead. I thought it would be funny to see this thing playing Super Mario 64 DS (or Super Spamton 64) and here the "buh bye!" sound effect when it closes the DSi XL.

That's all from me, for now. I have other Wormton related matter to attend to.

Don't let the parasitic Spamton larvae bite

[sadlynotthevoid]

Modern LCF AU where Lily and Bassen get tired of people trash talking their brother— specially because they know a lot of what they say is exaggerated or down right slander— so they create the first and only (for now) Cale Henituse Appreciation Account (the original one, of course).

The posts alternates between iconic Og!Cale quotes and wholesome annecdotes about him in no particular order and answers fighting hate posts about him.

Some people follow them because they're funny but almost no one believes them. So they decide to reclute Hans to their efforts.

Why? Because he's a good photographer. He has an account dedicated to cute photos of random cats.

Their next post is a short video of Og!Cale crunching down in front of a stray dog, both of them staring at each other and tilting their heads in synchronization. The video ends when the dog puts a muddy paw on his shoulder. He whispers "You're a good girl" and giggles.

When winter break is over, Og!Cale is widely confused. He went away for some weeks to deal with stuff and when he came back no one feared him anymore. No one avoids him, no one looks at him like they day couldn't get worse. Some people even greeted him. Genuinely, friendly greeted him. Not the fake two faced greet people do because they have to.

Rok Soo seats next to him and he's so relieved that he's the same as always— Until he asks him if he plans to adopt the dog.

What dog? What do you mean that "from the video"? What video? There's an account of what?!

He opens his phone and checks it quickly.

Og!Cale, immediately recognizing the pattern speech: Lily, what are you doing on twitter? You're too young.

Lily: It's fine. Oppa and Hans are with me.

Og!Cale: So, those are your accomplices.

[dolliethv]

Into you.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! story inspired by the song "Into You" by Ariana Grande, I hope you enjoy it xoxo!

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 3,6k

The deafening sound of the crowd at Wembley still echoed in your ears as the lights went out, marking the end of your final performance on tour. It had been a resounding success. There’s no better feeling than hearing thousands of people singing along to your songs, feeling that genuine connection that only true artists experience on stage. However, as the music faded, the reality behind the curtain pulled you back into a world where freedom was nothing but an illusion.

Adrenaline still coursed through your body as the crew surrounded you, congratulating you on the show. But amidst the laughter and praise, your personal assistant quickly approached with a serious look and a tablet in hand.

“You were amazing, as always,” your assistant began, though the tone of their voice hinted that the compliment came with bad news. “But there’s something you can’t avoid. Tonight’s event. Your team needs you to attend.”

You take a deep breath. There’s always something. A red carpet, a charity event, a fashion show... something that reminds you that your public life never rests. But this particular event makes you more uncomfortable than others. You know that your team has arranged for you to attend with a model, one of the men the tabloids have been pairing you with for weeks. Perfect photos for the paparazzi, fabricated rumors to feed the public's curiosity.

“Does it have to be tonight?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“It’s important for the brand, to maintain the narrative... You know how it is,” your assistant replies with an apologetic grimace.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. You know it all too well. This isn’t the first time you’ve been trapped in this kind of situation, and it probably won’t be the last.

Hours later, with the glow of Wembley still fresh in your mind, you find yourself inside a black limousine, on your way to the event. You’re dressed in an elegant purple silk outfit, characterized by its shine and smooth texture. The outfit has a sensual and glamorous style, with a cross-cut top that reveals part of your abdomen and a long, high-waisted skirt. The dark purple color adds a touch of luxury and sophistication. Your makeup and delicate jewelry, along with the violet bow tied at the back, complement the atmosphere and make you stand out at the presentation. Beside you, the model assigned to you for the night—a tall, attractive man—means absolutely nothing to you. Everything is a show. And although your face shows a perfect smile, inside, you feel more and more empty.

Upon arrival, the flashes begin to light up every corner. The cameras don’t stop firing. You pose hand in hand with the model, your bodies close together, simulating the intimacy that doesn’t exist between you. Your laughs are rehearsed, your gestures, calculated. It’s just another performance, but this time, the discomfort in your chest is more palpable than ever.

What people don’t know, what the cameras don’t show, is that Jude Bellingham is also at the event, dressed in a modern, high-fashion ensemble. The outfit includes a black suit with embroidered rose details and brand patterns. The avant-garde touch comes from the jacket he wears open, with no shirt underneath, and a white scarf wrapped around his neck. White sunglasses and sturdy black shoes complete the look, giving him an air of sophistication and modernity. Somewhere in the room, he watches the scene, battling his own instincts.

For months now, the connection between the two of you has been undeniable. Stolen moments at previous events, clandestine conversations in the shadows. There’s something between you that can’t be faked or forced. And although both of you are trapped in the fame game, your relationship has grown in secret. Jude loves you. More than he’s willing to admit out loud.

But tonight, seeing you so close to another man, smiling for the cameras as if you’re really enjoying it, makes his stomach turn. Trent Alexander-Arnold, his teammate and friend, notices the tension in Jude as they both watch from a discreet corner.

“Man, don’t get like this,” Trent whispers, trying to calm him down. “You know how this game works. It’s just marketing. Nothing more.”

Jude clenches his fists. He knows. He understands. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

And then it happens.

As you pose for the cameras, you try to subtly pull away from the model, wanting to break the contact and end the photo session. But the man, following the marketing team’s instructions, grabs your arm roughly, pulling you back to continue posing. The gesture is quick, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. The expression of discomfort on your face is clear, and though you try to hide it, the damage is already done.

From his position, Jude feels his blood start to boil. That jerk touched you in a way he shouldn’t have. Too rough. Too disrespectful.

“Did you just see that?” Jude asks through clenched teeth, staring at the model still holding your arm.

Trent notices it too and knows he has to intervene quickly.

“Jude, calm down,” he says, stepping between him and the scene. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

But Jude barely hears him. Every muscle in his body is tense, ready to disfigure that idiot's face. Rage blinds him, and all he can think about is protecting you. How dare he treat you like that in front of everyone?

Jude takes a step forward, but Trent grabs his arm firmly.

“No, Jude. Not here. Not now. This will only make things worse,” his friend insists. “Think about what will happen if you cause a scene. You know it won’t end well for either of you.”

Jude breathes heavily, but little by little, reason returns to his mind. Trent is right. Causing a scene here, in the middle of all those photographers and cameras, would only complicate things further. But that doesn’t mean he accepts it.

From a distance, his eyes meet yours. And in that instant, he understands that you’re fed up too. He can see it in your gaze, in the way your lips tremble slightly, holding back your frustration. Both of you are trapped in this game, and neither of you can take it anymore.

When the model finally lets go of you, you discreetly step away, walking toward a more secluded corner, pretending you need a break. Jude, still furious, watches you, making sure you’re okay.

“I promise this won’t last much longer,” Jude mutters through clenched teeth as Trent looks at him with determination. “I’ll find a way to get us out of this.”

Trent nods, understanding that his friend is serious. And although the situation is complicated, Jude has always been someone who gets what he wants.

As the event’s lights continue to shine and the cameras keep capturing perfect images, deep down, both of you know you can’t keep pretending much longer.

The vibrant music and murmurs of the crowd still echo in the air, but all you can think about is the scene you just lived through. When the model grabbed your arm with that unrestrained force, a flood of emotions washed over you. You feel trapped, as if your voice, once confident, is on the verge of being drowned by the pressure of the show. As you walk away from the cameras, a desperate desire to escape the world you’ve created pushes you forward.

Looking for refuge, you find an empty room at the end of a hallway. The walls are elegantly adorned, but the opulence can’t distract you from your vulnerability. You sink into a chair, feeling the tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Calm down, don’t cry...” you whisper to yourself, trying to keep your composure. “You can’t let this affect you.”

But the pressure of fame, the expectations, and the pain of being treated like an object overwhelm you. You hug yourself, recalling moments when you’ve felt strong and secure. That image the tabloids show of you, the perfect woman, is nothing but a mirage. It’s a constant performance, and tonight, the game has crossed a line you’re not willing to accept.

Meanwhile, Jude is elsewhere at the event, feeling his heart tighten. The anger still bubbles inside him, and despite Trent’s efforts to calm him, he can’t ignore the distress he saw on your face. The protective instinct he’s always had drives him to act.

“I’m going to find her,” he announces, his voice low but firm.

Trent gives him a warning look, but Jude is already in motion, his determination pulling him toward where he knows you’ve gone. Every step he takes is a reminder that he’s not going to let anyone treat you like that. The thought that any man, whoever he may be, could lay a hand on you and make you feel uncomfortable is unbearable to him.

When he finally finds you, the scene before him breaks his heart. You’re sitting, head bowed, trying to hold back tears. Jude can’t help but feel a wave of compassion wash over him. He approaches slowly, and when you look up, your eyes are filled with sadness.

“Baby...” he whispers, making his way toward you and wrapping you in his arms. “I’m here.”

The embrace is instantly comforting, a bubble of safety that seems to shield you from the outside world. You sink into his chest, feeling his warmth surround you. The pressure of your emotions begins to fade, at least a little. Jude holds you tighter, as if with that simple gesture he could erase your pain.

“I won’t let anyone treat you like that, ever,” he says, his voice thick with anger.

You feel your heart tighten in a strange way. Jude’s protective instinct is one of the things you love most about him, but it also makes you feel vulnerable. Still, at that moment, you need it. You wipe away a tear and smile weakly.

“I know... I just... I feel so overwhelmed sometimes,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper.

“You need a break,” Jude said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This world can be overwhelming, but you don’t have to face it alone. I’m here with you, and I’ll always be by your side. Always.”

You take a deep breath, feeling how his words wrap you in a warmth you haven’t experienced in a long time. Fame, the spectacle—it can all be suffocating, but Jude is there, always ready to remind you of your true worth. In that embrace, you realize you’re not alone. You have someone who understands you and who’s willing to protect you, even in a world that often seems so hostile.

“Thank you, Jude,” you murmur, and your eyes shimmer with the tears you’ve been holding back. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t take it anymore.”

“You can always handle more than you think,” Jude says, leaning in toward you, his gaze intense. “You’re not alone in this. You never will be.”

Jude steps back slightly, making sure you’re looking at him. His expression is serious, but there’s a spark of determination in his eyes.

“I’m not going to let anyone make you feel like that again. I promise.”

You nod, feeling the weight on your shoulders lighten, if only a little. Jude has been your refuge, and in your heart, you know that together, you can face any storm fame throws at you.

“We need to escape,” he says, his dark eyes shining with a mix of determination and tenderness.

You look at him, still feeling the echo of your vulnerability, but a spark of excitement runs through your body. You nod, feeling that in his company, you could find the courage to leave everything behind.

As you walk together, Jude firmly takes your hand, guiding you toward the parking lot. But when you reach a luxurious black car, you stop in your tracks.

"Hey big guy, hold on a second, I can't keep up with you in these heels!" you said with fake frustration.

"Come on baby, you have to use those heels to your advantage, with those on we can finally have a face to face conversation, even though I'm still two heads taller than you" He said in a mocking tone trying to annoy you.

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to surprise me! You finally learned to drive, Mr. Twenty-one-year-old, sir? “ you ask, smiling playfully trying to divert the conversation a little by trying to make fun of him.

Jude looks at you, a little embarrassed.

“Uh... no. But I can try,” he responds, with a mix of confidence and nervousness.

You get in the car, and Jude takes the wheel, his hands steady but a little shaky. When he starts the engine, the car roars to life, and he takes a turn, but the car jerks violently, making both of you burst into laughter.

“Damn it!” Jude exclaims, trying to correct the movement.

You laugh uncontrollably, feeling the tension dissipate in the atmosphere of the backseat.

“In this context, the prince is supposed to rescue the princess by riding his horse, but...” you say, pretending to be deep in thought. “What happens if your ‘horse’ jerks around?”

Jude grins mischievously.

“I’m supposed to be the hero here, not the princess. I’m going to learn how to drive!”

Finally, after several laughs and a couple of attempts, he gives up.

“You drive!” he declares with frustration.

You take the wheel between laughs, enjoying the feeling of freedom as you drive away from the event and the crowd. As the city fades behind you, a new emotion takes over: the adrenaline of escape.

When you arrive at the motel, you and Jude exchange nervous glances, holding back laughter from the adventure. As you get out of the car, a biting cold greets you, and Jude, with a protective smile, drapes his coat over your shoulders.

“I don’t want you to get cold, okay?” he says, his voice soft.

You’re overwhelmed by the gesture and smile at him, though you blush when you notice he’s left standing bare-chested, showing off his muscles in the cold London night. Jude’s tanned skin glows under the motel lights, making him look even more attractive.

“Jude, that’s not necessary,” you murmur, laughing softly.

He smiles, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“You think I’m going to let you freeze while I’m standing here ‘shirtless’? It’s a matter of principle.”

You laugh, enjoying his boldness and the absurdity of the situation.

“You look like a Ken doll,” you say, looking him up and down.

“A black, sexier Ken doll,” Jude replies, laughing as you wrap yourself in his oversized coat.

As you approach the reception, Jude frowns, remembering they need to keep a low profile.

“Wait a second, we need to come up with something,” he says, searching through the car.

As you both rummage, Jude finds a hat he had forgotten about.

“Look!” he exclaims, pulling it out and putting it on his head. “This should help.”

You laugh at how ridiculous he looks in the hat, but you can’t resist the idea.

“And I’ll wear your sunglasses,” you say, searching the car and finding a pair of sunglasses Jude had left behind.

When you finally make it to the reception desk, a man in his seventies looks at you with curiosity. Jude tries to keep his composure, though he blushes a little at how ridiculous you both look.

“Hi, we have a reservation…” he stammers.

The receptionist, with playful smile, looks at them over closely.

“I won’t say anything about you, I knew you guys were a couple!” he assures them with a wink. His eyes gleam with complicity, as if he knows exactly who you are.

You exchange glances with Jude, trying to hold back laughter at how absurd you must seem.

“Thanks, we appreciate it,” Jude says, relieved.

As you head to your room, laughing and running, the receptionist calls out again.

“By the way, you two look adorable together. Have fun!” he says with a warm smile.

When you enter the room, Jude turns to you, a mischievous smile on his face.

“You know what? This is way better than the party. Now we’re in ‘our bubble,’” he says, spreading his arms as if inviting you into a world that belongs only to the two of you.

You walk over, laughing as you savor the moment.

“Sure, as long as you don’t try to drive the car again.”

The motel room is small, but its atmosphere is filled with a vibrant energy that hums in the air. You find yourself in a space that feels far removed from the world, where the worries of the outside fade away. The soft light filtering through the windows highlights your face, reflecting the smile you share with Jude, a smile born from the growing bond between you.

Jude falls onto the bed, his gaze fixed on you, while you snuggle up, keeping warm in his coat.

“How about we do something fun?” he asks, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Like what, a tickle fight?” you reply.

“No, something more intimate,” he says, moving a little closer.

You feel the heat rise between you, a mix of laughter and nerves. Jude tilts his head toward you, getting close enough to whisper in your ear:

“Do you have any idea how much I love being here with you?”

His voice is soft, like velvet, sending a shiver down your spine. When you look at him, his eyes lock with yours, and in that moment, nothing else exists but the two of you. Jude brushes his hand across your face, gently caressing your cheek.

“Every moment with you is special.” you murmur softly.

The romantic tension in the air intensifies as Jude smiles, savoring the closeness. He leans in a little more, and you cradle his cheeks in both hands, his lips nearly brushing your skin, but instead of a kiss, it’s a soft touch, a hint of what could be.

You both let yourselves be carried by the current of your connection. You play with the edge of the coat you’re still wearing, moving a little closer to him, feeling his warm body near yours. Jude smiles, his eyes twinkling with understanding.

“Did you know hugs are my favorite form of communication?” he says with a playful smile.

“And what if I give you one?” you ask, wrapping your arms around him.

Jude lets out a soft laugh, enjoying the warmth of your embrace. The way you're lying, with Jude almost on top of you but without crushing you, makes you feel completely wrapped in that hug. However, the laughter soon turns into something deeper; your bodies come closer in an embrace that feels like it could last forever. You can feel his heartbeat, and your own breathing quickens.

Suddenly, you start laughing, breaking the tension, and Jude joins in. You both sit up on the bed, still laughing, enjoying the lightness of the moment. He gently pushes you back, making you fall onto the bed, and out of nowhere, Jude bends down and starts giving quick kisses on your stomach, tickling you lightly.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” you say, still laughing as you readjust yourself.

“I never said I was a fair hero,” Jude replies, looking at you with that mix of tenderness and mischief that always makes you smile.

Then, he leans toward you, his face so close you can feel his breath. His gaze intensifies, and the outside world fades away. Jude strokes your hair gently, and you feel lost in those small gestures, those moments of intimacy that speak louder than any words.

“Do you want to play a game?” Jude suggests, breaking the silence.

“What kind of game?” you ask, intrigued.

“We could play a whisper game. The first one to laugh loses,” he says, smiling mischievously.

“I accept the challenge,” you respond, smiling back.

Jude leans in, his lips almost brushing your skin, and begins whispering in your ear, soft words that make your heart race.

“Bread with tomato and ham,” he says, just loud enough for only you to hear.

You try to keep a straight face, but you can’t help but smile; it’s so bad that it’s funny.

“You can’t do that to me,” you say, trying to hold back your laughter.

“What? You don’t like what you’re hearing?” Jude replies, moving even closer, his voice dripping with provocation.

“You’re such an idiot,” you exclaim, bursting into laughter.

Jude smiles triumphantly, and the two of you dive into a sea of laughter and games. You push each other playfully, trying to keep a straight face while having fun on the bed.

Amid the laughter, Jude leans in toward you again, this time more serious, and whispers:

“Sometimes, I wonder how it’s possible that we have this intense connection.”

You feel the weight of his words, and your gaze deepens.

“Maybe we’re meant to be together in some way,” you respond, feeling your heart race.

Jude smiles, knowing the night has evolved in a way neither of you had anticipated.

“It’ll always be our little bubble,” he says, his eyes full of promises. "I love you with my life" He looked into your eyes in such a sincere way.

"I love you babe thank you for absolutely everything" you said kissing his nose, a very intimate gesture that meant a lot.

You both look at each other, feeling like this moment belongs to just the two of you. The touch of hands, the shared whispers, and the echoing laughter are evidence of a connection that goes beyond the physical; it’s a bond that promises something special in every gesture, every laugh, every glance. The night continues, and in your world, anything is possible.

You spend the night in soft laughter that fills the room with genuine closeness, interspersed with slow kisses and touches that say more than words ever could. You draw closer to one another, letting the silence and the rhythm of your breathing blend with the sounds of the night, as intimacy wraps around you both completely, melting into a space where time seems to stand still. Without rush or hurry, you let your bodies and gazes connect, diving into a deep, warm closeness, as if the outside world no longer existed.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Snake-Mimicking Sphinx Moth (Hemeroplanes triptolemus): the caterpillars of this species are able to mimic snakes by turning upside-down and inflating the area around their head

It's very common for moths to engage in mimicry during the larval stage of their development, and their caterpillars are often known to mimic snakes. In most cases, they'll simply mimic the snake's eyes (or eye) and its general morphology, but there are a few species that take their disguises to a much higher level, mimicking the snake's eyes, scaly texture, coloration, posture, and even its behavior with such a startling degree of accuracy that the tiny, harmless caterpillars are often mistaken for actual snakes.

Hemeroplanes triptolemus is probably the most famous example of this.

Above: a caterpillar of the species Hemeroplanes triptolemus displaying its defensive posture

This species of sphinx moth can be found in the rainforests of Central and South America. When threatened, the caterpillar suspends itself from a twig, turns its body over to expose its underbelly, tucks in its legs, and inflates the anterior segments of its body in order to mimic the shape of a serpent's head. As the body segments expand, several markings on each side of the caterpillar's body are exposed, mimicking the eyes and nostrils of a snake.

Above: the caterpillar is shown hanging upside-down; its actual head is visible near the tip of the "snake nose"

As this article explains:

At the slightest hint of danger—be it a stooping bird or pouncing lizard—the sphinx moth caterpillar begins its masquerade. Dangling from a twig, it reveals an underside patterned in faux snakeskin and eyespots that appear to glisten. By sucking in air through tiny holes in its surface, the caterpillar inflates its head to create the illusion of a triangular skull swollen with venom glands. If the shape of a deadly snake isn’t enough to startle away a hungry predator, the caterpillar will lunge as if to strike. And despite the larva’s comical lack of any actual weaponry, the strategy appears to be effective.

Above: detailed photos of the "snake's head"

This disguise is only present in the final instar, which is the last stage of development before the caterpillar undergoes pupation and then matures into an adult moth.

Above: the adult form of Hemeroplanes triptolemus

As I've said before, moths are some of the very best mimics in the world. I've also written posts about wasp-mimicking moths, moths that mimic jumping spiders, a moth that can mimic a broken birch twig, a moth that disguises itself as two flies feeding on bird poop, another snake-mimicking moth caterpillar, a moth that mimics a curled-up leaf, a moth that mimics a cuckoo bee, moths that mimic hornets and bumblebees, and a moth that can mimic the leaves of a poplar tree.

Sources & More Info:

BioGraphic: Snake Fake

National Geographic: This Harmless Caterpillar Looks Like a Pit Viper

Animal Behaviour: Defensive Posture and Eyespots Deter Avian Predators from Attacking Caterpillar Models

University of Nebraska: Mimicry in Insects (PDF)

Ecology and Evolution: Outstanding Issues in the Study of Antipredator Defenses