#fluffy mad scientist

[darklight-owl]

Honestly the thing that irks me the most about the ""dire wolf"" thing is that even without any experience in this field. Even if you have no idea what a dire wolf looked like. Do you guys not find it a LITTLE odd that these guys came out with wooly mice like barely a month ago and claimed it was "the first step to creating mammoths" and then immediately came out with what they claimed to be a dire wolf. These kinds of genetic modification are expensive as Hell they'd need a ton of funding to revive ONE species why are they sticking their fingers in as many pies as humanly possible (it's for media attention). Why are they pumping out so many press-friendly "new species" so quickly (it's for media attention).

[dick-chugger]

Washed my hair yesterday and now I look fucking insane

[smotherstories]

I don't know what I created but I REALLY like what it's doing to me!

[wingsofhcpe]

Heimerdinger is the best thing to happen to this show I'm not even joking

[wowieeitsisa]

Hopefully I have enough motivation to keep this up, you know the drill (1/??)

Some comments and thoughts for this under the cut 🫶

-> I forgot to draw Ivan’s hands roughed up, my bad

-> They just gave Ivan the MAG’s files cuz he did manage MAG agents in previous buildings, way before the CoR Project, so like, give that old man something to do lmao

-> Ivan’s project is taking WAY too long to arrive, there’s happening some rough complications and no one really told him yet

-> Chainsaw’s file last update is canonically in his last evaluation + top surgery LMAOOOAODN last time he let a doctor/scientist touch him fr

-> Chainsaw has not moved buildings for a while, he quite fits in this one so they just kept him there

-> Chainsaw’s file states VERY little information about his werewolf situation for some reason, it wasn’t really recorded ;p

[parme-san]

calling this one "everything in my drawing app that would otherwise never see the light of day" 👍

[sukeruton-san]

A Coffee Heart pt 3

First Previous Next

" Drake, why are you looking at a civilian's family history "

"The adults are Midwestern villains their secret hero son may be my long lost twin and they also have a daughter but she's mostly fine by herself. We might need to overthrow an entire government branch though"

"Excuse, me"

" You're excused"

After chatting with Danny for a while and getting more information without it sounding like an interrogation also making sure he'll be fine for couple of hours I went digging for the rest of the day.

And oh boy you won't believe what I found.

The Fenton's are fucking wild, after breaking through several firewalls just for the town and then even more for their security I found out 'the haunting world' really means haunted like ghost haunted. These people are the definition of mad scientists proudly stating that they built a portal to another dimension in their basement, and judging by the floor plan right below where Danny sleeps, said portal was letting dangerous ghosts out onto the city, but not all of the ghost are like that though.

The 'echoscientist' are heavily biased when it comes to ghost stating that they are 'nonsenseient' and 'don't feel pain' that they need to be a 'contained' 'experimented on' or even 'eradicated'' which is bullshit and horrifying. It's pretty obvious that there are several neutral and even some good ghosts appearing, most noteworthy being Phantom the hero of Amity Park (I know that majority is painting him as a villain but that is so far from the truth! there is an hour long video of him playing with children at the park helping everyone with daily tasks and more) also it seems pretty clear to me that Lazarus water and ectoplasm are similar in compounds which is frankly something I rather not think about right now.

The Fenton's cause so much property damage it's not even funny. they seem to not care for human lives and their excuse for doing so being 'dangerous ghost in the area' when it's clear that Phantom has it handled they don't even shoot at the attacking ghost they shoot at him which is so wrong on so many levels. the anti-ghost inventions they make seemed to even cause several attacks as well. Phantom already has enough on that his plate with the ghost attacks being 24/7.( Poor guy looks exhausted and burnt out) He doesn't need to have to hide/escape/be afraid from the people he's trying to protect. Hell even the red huntress(another vigilante) makes allies with him then shoots him in the back when the danger is over.

Looking closer at Phantom he has fluffy, soft, and thick white hair that seems to move like it's underwater; piercing, glowing, Lazarus green eyes; body type like Danny's but you can see more of the muscle and shape with his clothing being more skin tight, speaking of clothing he looks like he's wearing a hazmat suit with a symbol(a stylized D with a P in its negative space) postered on it and a utility belt. both the symbol and utility belt were added on later to the original suit which seems to resemble the ones the Fenton adults wear constantly

Actually Phantom looks a lot like Danny in general. . .

And Phantom has been called 'halfa' by some of his rouges. . .

No. . .

OH NO

Phantom and Danny looks so similar because they are the same person!?! after looking at Danny's school absences, tardys, and straight up running out of the class with the ghost attacks they line up

Danny seamlessly shows up with injuries that phanton has gained from Ghost attacks (but they're also injuries that seems to come from something else). Danny is apparently known to run from ghost attacks and as soon as that happens Phantom comes around the corner. Phantom uses Fenton tech that has been modified from the original, which probably he did, another similarity to add between us. . .

Wait I can add being a vigilante/hero as a similarity between us as well!

SHIT! Phantom is a ghost, dead, not living, did my twin brother die at some point!?! Cuz he sure as hell wasn't born like that!?! It must have been the day the portal was open. from what I was able to gather he was the only one home that day and the portal spontaneously worked after failing at first. And about a week later the first official ghost attack happened.

Also what is all this shit about the Anti-Echo Acts and the GIW!?!?! A whole government branch dedicated to the horrendous sayings of the Fenton adults!?!?! It looks like a lot of the Ghost attacks are dying down because it's became too dangerous for them to be out there.

We probably wouldn't have even noticed about all bullshittery with the government and this town in pacifically if if it wasn't for danny coming here.

. . . . .

Danny is here.

He is Phantom.

He said he was forced to be here.

He was forced into leaving his town.

The town that is attacking him at every corner.

With a support system that seems to be nonexistent.

And from looking at the old videos/photos he was learning everything from scratch.

With barely any appreciation for the things he does.

With the government trying to dissect him ( the fuck)

So logically after taking down the government and shutting down the portal if possible ( don't know if Danny needs it or if they environment has changed too much) Amity Park wouldn't need a hero if there's nothing to do there.

plus with their treatment of obvious heroes they could deal with their shit themselves, how does he deal with that I don't know.

They wouldn't mind if Phantom stays in Gotham would they? Probably not.

Oh well

He should probably start that welfare check now he'll do a more thorough investigation with the government later, twin brother priority right now.

" Drake, where are you going? You can't just say all of that and leave! Drake!!"

Yup welfare check

(think I'm getting better at writing shit!)

[screams-of-the-damned84]

(flops on stage) i now present to you my very silly swap au,,,

essentially jasper is now the co-leader of the society who was bitten by a werewolf and is trying to hide it, jekyll is the uni student who got kicked out due to his experiments and then picked up off the streets, etc. jasper and rachel can’t communicate and jekyll and lanyon are living the world’s weirdest horror romcom you’ve ever seen. more info under cut hehe (feat. bad explanations and doodles)

in simpler terms, jekyll and lanyon swap narrative positions (?? is that the right term) with jasper and rachel respectively. (lanyons and rachels swap doesn’t technically work as well as Jekyll’s and jaspers does but shhhhh). Frankenstein becomes the mad scientist that attacks the society and moreau becomes jaspers idol.

longer explanation but WARNING!! it is 3am when i am typing this and i am terrible at explaining. it may be slightly incomprehensible.

so like jasper and rachel founded the society after jasper publishes his research and gets semi famous. two years before current events jasper is out on a research venture and gets bitten by a werewolf. he doesn’t want to scare rachel or the lodgers so he keeps it a secret (to his own detriment). flash forward to now and jasper gets a call to investigate a “creature” terrorizing the streets of london only to find hyde.

before jasper can process the dumpster man he is looking at hyde transforms back into jekyll. jekyll explains that while trying to prove his theory of spiritual alchemy at his university he may or may not have split his own soul. and got kicked out. and is now living on the streets.

jasper, not really knowing what else to do and kinda relating to the poor guy, takes him back to the society. he introduces his co-leader rachel, who pretty much keeps this entire thing up and running. (rachel and jekyll still become friends but she especially takes to hyde. that little brother shaped hole in her heart is still very much present!) then theres the lodgers (idk how they all swap) and then there’s lanyon, a university student at the society because it was mandatory for one of his courses. he is not enjoying it and would very much rather be breaking boy’s hearts back at school. lucky for him tho, there’s jekyll!

this goes about as well as you would expect. lanyon then spends the rest of his stay at the society trying to understand (and woo) the conundrum that is jekyll and hyde. it’s very fluffy and they learn to communicate like jasper and rachel in canon (yippee!)

unfortunately for jasper and rachel, they have been playing the “just friends” game for the last decade. im having a bit of trouble trying to flesh out swap rachel so i don’t really know if she’s in a lavender marriage like canon lanyon is or is estranged/divorced or just single but whatever the case is she likes jasper but thinks he just sees her as a friend while jasper is madly in love with her and is too scared to tell her. this problem has only worsened since jasper got bitten. everyone else tho is aware of how they feel about each other and are stuck witnessing their tortuously long slow burn.

(hyde and lanyon at some point probably come up with a scheme to try and get them to confess. it goes horribly wrong.)

so yeah. this au has been floating around in my head ever since i read the comic for the first time. it mainly came to be because of how well jasper and jekyll parallel each other and because i wanted to draw stupid fluff and older jasper lol.

if anyone has any ideas/questions/etc TELL ME!!!!! this is just a rough idea if you have a better concept go for it awhdvgevd

[joffyworld]

The Wall of Mutual Appreciation - Part I

@machetelettuce

You officially have the cutest Narinder boba eyes I've ever seen. They utterly confound me in the most captivating way. Perfect Nari Boba, 10/10! Not to even mention your lamb, that motherfucker is the cutest lil lamby ever made. So fluffy, so cuddly, so smiles. I need them in my life, thank you for making that possible.

@caffeinecramp

Sozo. Such an underrated and underutilized character is most au's but by God did you nail the design. He's so fluffy and neat, he looks so friendly and pure. But behind that fluffy exterior is the mad eyes of a scientist turned delusional zombie, and you portray it beautifully.

@halftoastedwaffle

Expressions! I'll admit I don't really know how to phrase this perfectly, but your expression work is flawless. Each face conveys such a beautiful range of emotions, even with characters that are super hard to use for facial expressions like Shamura. Such a powerful skill to have when telling a story through visual media, and you've got it down to an art form unto itself.

@thetireddoktor

Ugh Shamura. Shamura Shamura Shamura. Don't get me wrong Dok, your bishop designs are all absolutely stunning, I admire them constantly. But my God, you sure know how to draw that damn spider. I am deeply, deeply in love with that damn spider, and you've only made that feeling so much worse in the best way possible. You've got a real knack for drawing that evil bastard, I adore it.

@flowersgoldandgraphite

I love your Leshy to death and back. He's so smiley, so fluffy and so smug. Not to mention, he absolutely killed that dress you put him in. He looked beautiful, like he's always deserved to. The Leshy stan community thanks you dearly, your contributions will never be forgotten!

@z00lea

Undisputably the King of Cannibalism and Gore in the fandom. I don't know anyone that quite matches your crazy sense of detail when it comes to guts and violence, but somehow keeps it intimate and sensual at the same time.

@fanofthelambalt

I cannot overstate how much I adored when you went around with Vitas and interacted with so many other lambs. It was such a beautiful moment of community and made my heart so much warmer, I'll never forget those posts. So wholesome, so fun and so cute. It was perfect, and it reflects your kind and fun heart so well. Also your Helob drawing? Still the most beautiful piece of art I've seen of him, and it deserves the due credit. Such an under-drawn character, but man did you COOK with that. So so cool, so cool

@midia666

Horror! Few have mastered horror in all its subtleties quite the way you have. Your designs are dripping in horror and unease even before the gore and limbs begin to fly or dismantle, and it's such a treat to see. Not to mention, your Narinder and Shamura tear my fucking heart out. They're so tragic and pained, it's incredible really. You have a real knack for unnerving me in all the best ways, it's incredible to behold.

@wolsalwastaken

RATIL!!!!!!!!! RATILLLLLLLL!!!!!!! I fucking adore Ratil you don't understand, they're possibly my favourite main character OC and they're such an adorable lil fella. So so perfect in every way, I love the lil rat so much. Also when you put them in a dress I screamed, so bonus points for that! Your art style in general is just so fucking adorable and flexible to different tones, it's so good.

@yourtaquitos

Siliiness and seriousness, you always know the balance. You're so beautifully capable of shitposting one minute, then blowing my mind with a masterpiece the next. Your anatomy is delicious, your silliness is divine, and your art is deeply appreciated.

@lime202

Comfort. That's what I think of when I see your art. It's so perfectly comforting in every way. It's detailed, but simple, with beautiful intricacies threaded without being overwhelming. Your art reminds me of Spring and blooming flowers, it's so warming to the sight. Also your Leshy? So beautifully fluffy and cuddly, I will always love him.

@stitchesofsoulsart

There's so much love in every single post you make. It's so beautiful, the way you draw such wholesome loving fun and comfort the masses with your beautiful designs and creativity. You're equally capable of angst and drama, but goddamn the comforting fluff is what drags me in personally the most. That Nari design too? To die for. No other way to put it exists, it's peak Narinder alternate design. So fucking cool and pretty ugh.

@blueaceart

Okay this is super specific but the way you draw Shamura just intrigues me. The tired eyes and sunken sockets, like the weight of knowledge and the burdens of war have weighed upon them for eons. It's so beautifully harsh and real, and I never see anyone else take up the challenge of it in such a subtle way. So cool.

@shrimpsketchy

Pirates! I am utterly obsessed with your piracy au idea, it's so embedded in my brain and I genuinely screamed when I saw it. It's beautiful, such a unique concept I've not see anyone else attempt and WOW was the art that accompanied it just stunning on a whole other level. Genuinely art gallery tier art, I'm in awe at it every single time.

@jomo-is-here

Where the fuck to even start with you Jomo. Jomo, formerly known as Fwick, is the subject of my largest conspiracy yet. I am fucking CONVINCED that Jomo is the dev of the game that does the official artworks for special events and DLC, because holy SHIT is Jomo's art in a tier of its own. Jomo is the fucking Michael Jordan of Cult of the Lamb art, rivaled by very VERY few. The environments are splendid, the characters are adorable and it's all done in such a beautifully similar style to the official artwork of the game. You could easily tell me Jomo IS the person doing the official art, but if I'm being honest? Jomo is better (in my opinion). But don't get it twisted, you can tell the difference with a mere glance and Jomo's uniquely recognisable style is a unique and adorable edition that wouldn't go awry in a museum or an award show. This shit is top tier lemme tell you, I can't glaze it enough.

@scared-lantern

Lantern approaches art with a beautiful style and flair that few can match. Your lamb is one of the most adorable designs around and by God do you know how to maximise that cuteness in every way. Not to mention, your painted art style is just a real marvel for the eyes. I can't eat it enough, I'm always going up for seconds.

@jellyseafish

I absolutely adore the silly fun you upload with your art. Your lamb is so big eyed and fun to stare at as they get up to hijinks, even if the hijinks are just them staring back with big ol' peepers. Cutest patootest around, and boy do they love a good shenanigan. I adore them, I can't help it.

@shadbells

GOLD. Shad has a flair for the decorative and beautiful when it comes to art, and boy does it shine through in such a unique and beautiful way. The designs you make, especially for your lambs and Nari, has really quickly become some of my favourites Shad. The gold accents of the clothes and jewellery really highlight their beauty so well, and let me say personally they are BEAUTIFUL. Absolutely stunning designs with a delightfully devilish side when they want, I adore them in every way. 10/10, would marry and smooch, then get stabbed probably.

@ccarmody101

Your lamb design is beautiful as hell and your Nari and Goat bring me some seriously needed joy when I stumble on them again. You were actually one of the first COTL artists I stumbled on when I got Tumblr, and I'll always appreciate how you fed my addiction just as I took my first steps.

@shind91

Uniqueness. That's the first word that pops up when I think of Shin's art. The way you translate these furry fellas into humanised and more realistic designs is just bafflingly cool to me, it's such a brilliant translation that few people can so perfectly pull off. It's a genre of art I didn't know I needed, but by God do I love to see it now that I've seen your art more than ever before in my life. It's such a unique talent, and I cherish it every time I see it.

@spilycoris

Armour! I love the armour you've given your lamb, it's so beautiful while still being believable that they'd wear it. It's like a beautiful but functional jewellery, and really pulls the outfit together! Absolutely adorable, 10/10!

@angry-ursidae

Ursidae art, some of the most fulfilling silliness there is on Tumblr. Your Narilamb fuels my life, and your Shamura makes me die laughing. I don't know why, I just love that design it's so silly to me for some reason and I can't help but adore it. I love Ursidae art, this is known.

@frecktheheck

When I think of COTL character designs, Freck is one of the first names that pops into my mind. Between the anatomy, the charisma and character that blossoms in the characters designs and the historically-designed outfits, there's not a single thing you do badly, or even mediocre for that matter. Every single piece is a gift woven from the threads of love and passion, and the art style reflects your beautiful heart in a way that's so pure and comforting to all who see it. I cannot, and will never, have enough Freck art in my life. I can't stop devouring it and begging for more like a camel in the Sahara, and I wouldn't ever want that to change.

@haggz-is-here

If I had to give someone an award for "Person most likely to be a time travelling renaissance artist" it would be you Haggz. Your work, simply put, is INSANE in it's quality and baffling in its detail. I cannot, no matter how long I stare at it, understand how you do it. On a damn iPad no less. Da Vinci's legacy lives on in you, and by God do you do it proud. I can't praise it enough, it's just stunning every time. Stunning, there's no other word for it. Other than shocking, maybe?

@cultistic-ann-aka-sannaliel

Sanna is, quite frankly, a fucking genius at detail. There is nobody better for the minutae of an art piece than Sannaliel, and I will die on that hill. I have yet to be anything other than shocked and awe-inspired at a Sanna art piece, and I doubt that will ever change.

@hotchocolatedemon

A writer and a drawer, a rare double-talent! Not only that, but both are done to a wonderful degree! Never let it be said that hotchocolatedemon isn't a demon in the creative fields! I guess a deal with the devil would explain that 🤔

@tidalfoam

I fucking love your little gremlin ratsona. They're such a little thing, I adore them. I don't think there's a better meet the artist than your one if I'm being honest. It's perfect, sometimes less truly is more.

@loloelia

Lolo! The way your art has improved, even in the tiny amount of time I've sort of known you, has been tremendous, and it beautifully reflects your bubbly personality. Your positivity is a force for good in a negative world, and your art reflects that with every doodle and drawing! Don't ever change or doubt yourself, you're an amazingly joyful person to see around the place!

@cj-the-random-artist

This motherfucker manages to do two things at the same time. One: Draw the cutest lil fellas I've ever seen. They go to tea parties, they hug and slow dance, they go to TEA PARTIES. Two: educate the fuck out of me. I will always mention how CJ's QPR au was the first time I'd ever even heard of a QPR, l t alone been shown how it functions. It's so beautiful and passionately crafted, and reminds me how important representation is in art. There's nobody that does it better, and warms my heart in such uniquely beloved ways.

@twooftheluckyones

Gem and Cake!

To Gem: Your art heals a child in me I didn't know was wounded and in need of a bandage. It's so cute and pure, but so versatile in that too. Una is an utter delight, and Narinder is dripping with edge but without sacrificing the clear goopy interior that lies in his heart.

To Cake: You are, simply put, a writer in a tier purely of your own. The way you weave a tale with a myriad of writing tricks is just stunning to behold. If Gem is the heart, then you're the soul. There is nobody I take pride in learning from more than you, and you set a new standard with every piece you write. Never let it go said that Cake the Lucky can't write a bonafide masterstroke whenever he pleases, and in any genre he pleases. Smut? Action? Romance? Melancholy? Call this guy, he's the one to do it. Don't even get me started on how these two work together to make this shit sparkle, I'll be here all day.

@bogor-o

Have you ever seen an art piece so beautifully cuddly that you just wept because you can't actually hug the characters on your screen? Well, lemme tell you something. Bogor is the fucking expert of that. If you've ever wanted to see a character that looks like they could kill you with a stare and hug you back to life in the same breath, then go take a gander at Bogor's art, you will NOT be disappointed.

@greedykrab

Your skill in taking the abstract and turning it into the deeply developed is outstanding and profound. I will never quite "understand" your art style, and I think that's what draws me to it. It's like a beautiful puzzle you could stare at for days and never fully replicate, so uniquely yours in a world of already unique artists and styles. So so good.

@the-artist-grimm

The art? Spectacular, 10/10 on the cuteness and the violence when necessary. But the writing? Oh my God you crank that up to 11! Crimson Angel has torn my heart out every single step of the way and I'll never stop singing its praises. Your writing of parenting and the relationship between two firey but pained loves? Immaculate. Utterly perfect in every way.

@ro-bee

KIRAN. The beautiful baby boy I had the absolute honour of helping name. I will forever fawn over Pupigoat and your beautiful art style that brings them to life. Their pain is wholesome but brutal, and your skill at drawing it brings it to life so wholly and passionately. Not to even mention the rest of your art, it's all so unique and wonderful.

@losing-catharsis

A fellow poet amidst a sea of visual artists! The way you weave words into song without a rhyme scheme utterly fascinates me, and was a huge part of what inspired me to try free verse poetry in a few of my own works, to very little succes xD. Your a wonderful writer, never stop Cath <3

@zynical-forg

You draw, without any competition or contest, the CUTIEST PATOOTIEST Patooties ever. They're so small, so round and so lovable. Perfectly drawn blorbos every time, ready for some cute adventures together. Beautiful, 10/10 would fawn over again.

@yellowflowrs

Carillonneur. Need I say more? Okay but seriously now, you crafted the absolute BEST swap au I've ever seen in my life design-wise. The character traits? Hilarious and intriguing. The clothing? Beautifully horror themed. The actual character's designs and anatomy? Oh my God. Next level insane. The Carillonneur? The Rinder? So so good. I just devour them every time I see them. I've had to limit myself to my favourite of your au's or I'll be here till I die of old age, but I love them all so so so so sooooo much ugh. I can't wait to see what you get up to next, be it COTL or something else entirely!

@eliza-forget

You. You are the absolute most powerful MACHINE of creativity I have ever born witness to. I don't understand how you never seen to run out of ideas, motivation or passion, it's such a beautiful display of the human spirit at its finest. To top that off, the detail on every piece is just BAFFLING to point my eyeballs at. Every. Single. Post is just dripping with detail, whether that be clothing, design, anatomy, lighting, perspective or dialogue. It's insane how you produce artwork so fast, so efficiently and compromise nothing when it comes to vision, detail or passion. I genuinely feel inspired when I see your newest work almost every single day, I can only aspire to be like you and your bountiful spirit the same way someone aspires to a myth of the ancients and their acts of heroic bravery.

@loullipopx

Versatility. Lou does it all and goddamn do they do it well. Cuteness galore? Look no further than the Pokémon au and their designs. You'll cry they're so cute, and then you'll cry because you know you'll never see something as cute ever again in your life. Beautiful and sensual art? Go look at the pinups she did for the Lamb and Nari during the bunny suit trend. They have scarred my mind in such a beautiful way, I'll never forget it. Loulli makes that shit pop, and by God does it pop good as hell. Don't even get me started on the music she makes. Yeah that's right I'll say it publicly, this fucker makes music. Good music. GREAT music! The skillset goes above and beyond, and boy does it astound me every time I learn something new.

@lotus-duckies

Cannibalism? Check. Cuteness? Check. Religious themes? Check! The way you weave religion into your pieces is utterly fascinating to me, and I still remember our little theological talks super fondly. Every single piece is utterly soaked in symbolism, metaphor and a diabolical amount of love and passion, even when the love involved leads to a cannibalistic eating of a spouse or two. I cannot praise the detail put into these pieces enough, and the art style just emboldens those details tenfold. Never before have I seen an art style take me by the hand and plunge me into a sea of joy so quickly and vividly, and I'll always love it dearly.

@mudtrash

Two words. Anatomy. Ears. Your anatomy work on your lil sillies is utterly fantastic, especially your rare naked Nari. But the real prize in my eyes? The way you draw ears. I don't know why, but you give those motherfuckers the most beautiful flop I've ever seen. Nari? Big dorito ears. Lamb? Lil gloppy floppas. Goat? Middle ground flopperoos. They're all just so perfect. Your style is so cute and fun without sacrificing detail, it's to die for. For me though, the ears are the cherry on top of an already perfect cake. 10/10 dude, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

@streetchicken

Streetchicken cookin in the kitchen like it's KFC. Make no mistake, this motherfucker can COOK. Gay soldiers? Absolutely. Gay furry gods? Not a problem. Just a dude? Light work. Frog is an artiste behind the brush, but lemme tell you the real secret. Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, can draw a bear or a hunk quite like Streetchicken. Not a soul. This motherfucker can COOK when it comes to big huggable bears and rough-and-tumble fellas, and the competition never truly stood a chance. Whether it be Captain Price, Soap or Leshy, there are hunks abound. I thank you for your contributions to the bear community Frogo, never stop cooking 🫡

@faebunnyleap

Smiles! That's my immediate thought when I think of Fae. There's not a single piece of yours that doesn't have me smiling at the hilarity, the domestic bliss or the calming of it. Every single post is crafted with such a refined and calm hand, and 9 times out of 10 your characters are always so smiley and free. Your art style helps that so much too, it's so diverse. Your sketches are so silly and fun, but when you turn it up to 11 and get serious it's such a fantastic result. Also, I think about that fuckass pagliaci twins post so often it hurts. It's so good, top 3 shitposts ever. I love it, thank you so much.

@neon-virus

Size! I absolutely adore how you use your characters and their size differences, with such a crazy array of heights and builds. Goat is absolutely HUGE, a real unit, while Lamb is like the tiniest lil cutie patootie ever made. Nari acts as this weird middle ground where he's still super tall, but Goat's such a monster that he looks kinda normal? I love it so much. Also wow, your shading and rendering on your more detailed full pieces? Utterly splendid, I cannot ever be sated from my greed for more. So so beautiful.

@paintpaintpaintman

Trad art central over here. Your paintings are honestly stunning and it's so refreshing to see some trad art standing out amongst the digital age. Your designs are awesome too, and seeing them painted to life is so wholesomely warming. I get a shot of giddiness in my veins whenever you post, and I don't see that feeling ever fading in the slightest!

@cconfusedkat

The cuddliest designs in the whole world, so full of joy and whimsy. Every design bursts with a huggable energy that just sucks you in. It's beautiful, I adore it. There's not a single character that I wouldn't snuggle, pat on the head and feed a cookie for being such a delightful lil fella, I love them. I can only hope that they would love me.

@teruuu-main

Teru, Teru, Teru. Your brilliance knows no bounds. Every au just drips with personality and beauty, each so unique in the ways they shine. Old Faith Academy? Beautifully tropey, so comforting and warm. Compulsion of Flesh? Ohhh BOY lemme tell you about Compulsion of Flesh. Never have I seen someone write two characters that are so fucking VILE that I cannot help but love them. They're insane, they literally eat each other, and I eat it up like a starved hyena. I can't help it, they've devoured my brain since day one, and the saying is true, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." This au will always be one of my favourites, and one of the first fan projects I ever got obsessed with. Words don't quite match my love for it, so just take some sounds. SNOOB. GLOOB. GLEEB. HAPAP! And so on.

@kikorikoiko

Your improvement in the time I've known you has been absolutely immense, and I adore the way you draw Astaroth and Kallamar. You've brought the Astaroth character to life in a way few have, and it's beautiful every time. Devs hire Kiko please, we need tragic polygamous gays to be canon (as if they aren't already).

@junoberrii

Cuteness. Pure and simple cuteness. There is not a single un-cute bone in Juno's wrist I swear to God. Every single post is just the cutest shit imaginable. So cute, in fact, that I constantly forget that the lamb is canonically a mass murderer, and that Nari is an asshole. If you want fluff, and you want it FLUFFY, go to Juno and just stare at the art on display. It heals your soul man, it really does.

@spiderin-space

Talk about versatility! Spider writes, and writes a damn fine story too! Not only that, but such a passionate and dedicatedly written story, with such a beautifully paced yet long winding story that leaves you always waiting for an update. The art though? Oh man the art. Cuddly, cute and joyful but with a perfectly conveyed sense of fear whenever Spider needs to put the brakes on the fun zone. Spider knows their shit, and does it perfectly to a T. Don't sleep on spider, that spider knows how to write a story that bites in the night, or soothes in the daytime. Take your pick, you won't be disappointed.

[zae-heeyyy]

Assuage

Summary: Arthur helps you relax. Pairing: Arthur Morgan X Female!Reader Word Count: 1,269 Tags: developing relationship, very light angst, fluff, Clemens Point, high honor

an: This was an anon request. Not a lot going on here. Simple and sweet. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Assuage: to lessen the intensity of (something that pains or distresses) 

Sloshing buckets of water weighed a thousand pounds in your clammy grip as scorching heat spread like a brush fire from your stomach. This pain had been gnawing at you for weeks, and no doctor could give you a precise diagnosis or cure. Rest, eat frequently, avoid alcohol.

They didn’t know the lifestyle of a woman in the Van Der Linde Gang.

Obedience had never come easy, so last night, when Arthur offered you a swig of whiskey, his crooked smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, you couldn’t deny him. The golden liquid stung like hellfire going down. Still, a combination of its intoxicating effects and a new closeness to the cowboy soothed the deep-seated ache in your belly. As moonlight glimmered above the lake, you wiggled your toes in the sand and failed to stifle a yawn.

“Don’t let me keep ya’, Miss.”

“It’s no trouble, Arthur.”

When you shivered, part from the lake breeze and part from discomfort, he opened his arm like a drawbridge, inviting you into the safety of his castle. You scooted in, stiff, but when his hand found your stomach, heavy and warm like a compress, the tension drained like water bled from a moat. You didn’t move for the rest of the night, forged against his iron-like muscle.

Now, the next morning, regret was setting in. The whiskey irritated whatever beast had made its home inside of you, its claws burrowing deep. Trying to stay steady on your feet, you squeezed your eyes shut and froze. But the cramps expanded outward, turning all your muscles into stone. Before you could set them down, the buckets slipped from your fingers and crashed to the ground in a piercing clatter.

Catching the edge of a nearby table, you sucked in air through your nose, puffed out through your mouth, and futilely willed yourself invisible. But your prayers fell on deaf ears because, in another second, a pair of familiar hands sank into the padding of your hips. 

“Hey, you alright?”

“M’fine, just spilled some water.”

As you reached for the fallen buckets, the ground came at you fast. Before you ate the dirt, Arthur hauled you backward into his unmoving brick frame.

“Y’shoar as hell don’t look fine.” 

“I am, really.”

You tried to meet his unbelieving gaze earnestly, but the color drained from you as bile burned at the back of your throat. Arthur didn’t wait for another fabricated explanation before he dragged you away to the shade of his tent, grumbling. 

“Can’t be pushing yerself so hard, woman. You crazy?”

His palms clasped firmly onto your shoulders, silently commanding you to stay put as he stepped away. You sank into the fluffy cloud that was his pillow, but it brought you little comfort as you drifted aimlessly through the storm of your pain. 

His voice rumbled from the sky of the phantasmagoria you were lost in, and your mind followed the sound back to the waking world.

“You still alive?” 

You whimpered in acknowledgment, and your eyes fluttered open to find him watching you.

“There she is.” His lips formed into a soft curve as he caressed your forehead with his knuckles. “You jus’ relax. I’m gonna go talk to Dutch and keep Miss Grimshaw off your heels. Don’t go anywhere, now.” 

Your mouth parted as you tried to sit up, but he raised a brow and raised a finger, shushing you. Defeated, you swallowed and sank back down, staring up at the canvas of the tent and folding your hands over the source of your affliction. 

Time dawdled on when you were sitting still. If only some mad scientist could invent a machine that took pictures of your insides, you could finally figure out what was wrong with you and fix it. Having folks, especially Arthur, fuss over you sat almost as heavy as the pain. Yeah, you’d rest, you told yourself—just until Arthur returned. Then you’d get back to it.

And when he ducked back into the tent, you tried to swing your legs over the cot, but he caught your ankle and settled it into his lap as he sank at the foot of the bed. With a sharp glance, he tugged at the shoestring of your boot.

“Spoke to Dutch. You’re on bedrest for the next few days.” 

“But—”

With a swift pull, he removed the boot and dropped it to the ground.

“Don’t wanna hear it.”

A silent joust between your leg and Arthur’s grip ensued, and you lost quickly, pouting in your defeat. 

“Arthur, I can’t just lay here. I have to—”

“Quit yer yappin,’ and let somebody help you for a change.” 

Your other boot hit the ground, and he tucked your feet back together with assertive force, glaring at you. 

“Whatever happened to a woman listening to her man?”

Your heart burst against your ribs, and oxygen fled from your brain, leaving you dizzy and wordless.

“Mmm,” he hummed in amusement. “That finally shut you up? Thought I was gonna have t’climb up there.”

When you still didn’t say anything, only gawked at him, his hand shot to the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“M’sorry, I just thought that we—the past few weeks—I should’ve—”

Even though the contraction of your muscles made the sore spot in your abdomen ache evermore, you managed to choke out a laugh.   “You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan, a sweet, sweet fool.”

As his smile returned, his shoulders relaxed, and he rolled his eyes playfully.

“I can get behind the fool part, but I don’t know too much about bein’ sweet.”

You wanted to laugh again, but your amusement was short-lived. You hugged your arms around your midsection, frown etched deep.

“You gone to a doctor ’bout that, yet?”

Arthur had noticed, after all, despite your best efforts to hide it from him, and you hated it— hated being another burden for him to carry on his shoulders with the rest of the world. And like he was reading your mind, he rubbed your leg reassuringly. 

“You ain’t easy t’ignore. Not t’me.”

“Guess I ain’t doing a good job of hiding it.”

He shook his head and put his hand over yours on your belly.

“Don’t gotta hide anything from me, darlin. Ain’t got much, and I ain’t no doctor, but whatever you need, jus’ say the word.”

But that was just the thing—you didn’t want to say it—that you wanted to take him up on his offer to climb in bed with you.  But the fear of missing the opportunity overpowered your fear of rejection. 

“Stay, please? Just for a little while.”

Your heart plummeted when his hand left yours, but you watched as he took off his boots and joined you in the cot. He spooned you, both of you turning on your side, him rubbing soothing circles on your center.

“That help?” 

Truthfully, it didn’t make the hurt go away, but you nodded anyway because another feeling, solace, was slowly forming beside it. You shifted to face him, using your arm to support your head.

“What?” 

“Your woman,” you smiled, and he brushed your hair out of your face.

“If that’s alright wi’you, miss.”

Your eyes trailed down to his lips, and you closed the gap between you. He cupped your cheek as your lips moved in sync with each other. Sharp pain nagged at your insides, but his presence alone brought a semblance of peace to your tumultuous mind. You supposed you could spend the rest of the day like this, wrapped up in the cowboy. Dutch’s orders didn’t sound so terrible, after all.

[lovezbrownies]

The Science of Love.

General Masterlist - Julie's Masterlist

Synopsis: Julie McCanister never thought of marriage before, until her nosy coworker kept mocking her and telling her that her dalring should break up with her for waiting so long. And now she's filled with fear of that actually happening.

PAIRING: Yandere!Mad Scientist x GN!Reader

Warnings: My tamest work so far, very fluffy.

Your girlfriend, Julie, had been acting… strange. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but you’d been noticing it for weeks now. The once calm and collected Julie McCanister—always the picture of professionalism—had spiraled into something unrecognizable. The house had become a reflection of her state: a chaos of unfinished projects, half-drawn equations, and scattered papers. It was like everything in her world had turned upside down.

Her usually voluminous hair, the kind that always looked effortlessly messy but somehow perfect, was now a frizzy, unkempt tangle. The dark bags under her eyes had deepened by several shades, and the vibrant spark in her gaze had dulled to a weary exhaustion. She barely seemed to sleep, let alone eat.

For the past month, she’d been consumed by something. You weren’t sure what. You’d caught her muttering to herself, her mind locked in a frantic loop. The lab, once her sanctuary, had been abandoned in favor of the living room whiteboard, where she scribbled in a feverish frenzy—random buildings, nonsensical equations, half-solved problems.

The strangest part? She hadn’t gone into work for two whole weeks. Julie, the meticulous scientist who lived by her schedule, had thrown it all out the window. She was clearly struggling, and yet, she refused to tell you what was going on. The stress radiated off her, but when you tried to ask, she just shut you out.

“No, no, no. I must finish this on my own. No help. If I don’t, it’ll ruin everything,” she snapped one evening, her voice sharp and tight.

You were taken aback, the sting of her words lingering longer than it should have. Julie had never been rude to you. Blunt, yes. But never rude. She’d always appreciated your small contributions, those little comments that lightened her mood or gave her a fresh perspective. A quick kiss, a grin, and she’d be off again, solving the puzzle in her mind. But this time… this time was different.

Her refusal to let you in, her coldness, felt like an impenetrable wall slowly rising between the two of you, and it hurt more than you were willing to admit. But still, you remained steadfast in your desire to help her through whatever this was. You found yourself rushing after her, tidying up the chaos she’d left behind: collecting scattered papers, clearing away empty coffee mugs that once overflowed with caffeine-fueled desperation, and lining up a fresh batch of markers next to the whiteboard. You organized everything neatly, anticipating the moment her current marker would run dry, hoping it would keep her mind from snapping back to frustration.

You did all of this for her, not knowing that the very thing causing her to unravel was, in fact, you.

It wasn’t an insult, not at all. But the source of her stress was wrapped up in a decision she hadn’t yet found the courage to make. Julie McCanister, the logical, no-nonsense scientist who trusted only facts and cold calculations, was planning to propose to you.

For over a month now, she’d been stewing over it—over how you might react, over whether you’d even want it. You always told her the same thing: that you didn’t need a ring, that your love for each other didn’t require some grand symbol. And yet, Julie had seen you. She had caught those fleeting glances, the way you’d unconsciously eye the rings of friends and even her colleagues, the way your fingers would linger on your own hand as if imagining something more.

It all started when one of her colleagues—never one to filter their thoughts—had dropped a bombshell in the middle of the break room one afternoon.

“You’re telling me you two have been friends for over twenty years, lovers for another eight–almost nine– and you still haven’t proposed?! Jesus, McCanister, no offense, but even I would’ve broken up with you by now!”

That comment, as casual and offhand as it had been, had hit Julie like a freight train. Her colleague’s words had taken root in her mind, burrowing into her thoughts until they grew into a full-blown obsession. Could you really be content without that symbol of commitment? Or had she, in her logical, methodical mind, missed something crucial—something that you longed for, even if you didn’t say it out loud?

The thought—the mere possibility—of you breaking up with her sent a jolt of panic coursing through her veins. The idea of you telling her you’d waited long enough, that you couldn’t bear to spend another moment in a relationship without the symbol of commitment, the ring, gnawed at her insides. 

The image of you walking away, seeking someone who would offer you the engagement you deserved, was almost too much to bear. It was as if the very foundation of her world had cracked, leaving her scrambling for something solid to hold onto.

The panic had hit her like a tidal wave, crashing down without warning, sweeping her up in its relentless pull. It came just hours after her colleague’s offhand comment, that careless remark that had burrowed deep into her mind, festering in her thoughts as she tried to work in her lab. Her heart had pounded erratically, and her breath had come in sharp, shallow gasps. The thought of losing you, of not being able to give you what you wanted, what you might secretly need, had thrown her into a complete spiral.

You’d never directly said anything about wanting to get married, right? So it was okay if she waited, delayed it just a little longer, wasn’t it? After all, you hadn’t complained. You were patient with her, understanding of her eccentricities and her logical nature. 

But then again, maybe you had been communicating something to her, something she hadn’t picked up on. Maybe you’d been dropping subtle hints that you wanted more, that you were aching for that next step, but Julie had failed to notice. She’d never been good at deciphering emotional cues, not like she should be.

Her lack of empathy had caused its fair share of arguments when you first started dating. Back then, she’d been almost robotic in her understanding of emotions—practical, yes, but cold, distant even. She could analyze problems, but she struggled with people, with their feelings. She had hurt you once, unintentionally, because she hadn’t understood that sometimes, what you needed wasn’t a solution or a quick fix, but simply to be seen and heard.

But losing you had never been an option.

That was the moment she decided. Valentine’s Day. One month. That was how long she had to plan the perfect proposal, one so flawlessly executed that you’d fall in love with her all over again.

It had been years since the two of you had truly celebrated Valentine’s Day—there was no need anymore. You knew each other too well, had been together for so long that the usual romantic clichés had lost their luster. But even still, there was one tradition you never abandoned. Every year, without fail, you and Julie made sure to pick up a box of those limited-time Valentine’s cupcakes from your favorite bakery. They only came around once a year, and without even discussing it, you both always made time to get them.

And so, Julie decided: that was how she’d start the proposal.

That was two months ago. And now, Valentine’s Day was after tomorrow.

Everything was ready—perfectly orchestrated, down to the very last detail. She had planned every step of the day, every meal, every location, even the outfits you’d wear. The calculations had been finalized days ago. Every possible outcome had been accounted for.

She had even hired photographers. Fourteen of them, stationed at every location on her itinerary.

Most of them had tried to talk her down, to reason with her. “You only need one, maybe two at most. Fourteen is excessive.” But Julie wouldn’t hear it. She needed options. She had no way of predicting when the moment would strike—when she’d finally gather the courage to get down on one knee. Maybe it would happen in a spontaneous burst of emotion, or maybe she’d panic and delay it until the very last possible second.

She didn’t know.

But what she did know was that this needed to be perfect.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she looked put together. The frizzy, untamed waves that had practically become a permanent fixture of her appearance had been smoothed back to their usual controlled state. The dark, sleep-deprived circles beneath her eyes remained, but they no longer seemed to weigh her down. 

Her pants—those meticulously ironed slacks she refused to let you touch out of fear you’d ruin the perfect crease—looked freshly pressed, as though she had actually taken the time to care for herself this morning. The sight alone was enough to make you stare, but it was the look on her face that truly stunned you.

A smile. Not her usual smug, self-satisfied smirk. Not the subtle twitch of her lips she gave when she found something mildly amusing. This was giddy. Breathless. Eyes-bright-with-excitement kind of giddy. The kind of smile you could count on one hand the number of times you had seen before. It was beautiful—so achingly rare that for a moment, you found yourself simply staring, wanting to commit every detail to memory before it inevitably faded. 

And then, before you could even think to ask what had her in such a good mood, she leaned in, pressing a quick kiss against your lips, her words brushing warmly against your skin.

“I’m going to get the perfect outfit for tomorrow. I will be back in approximately one hour and forty-eight minutes.”

Then, just like that, she was gone, still pulling her coat on as she rushed out the door, leaving you sitting there, stunned and thoroughly perplexed.

True to her word, exactly an hour and forty-eight minutes later, the front door swung open with purpose. Julie stepped inside with the same air of confidence she carried after solving an equation no one else could, only this time, instead of a clipboard full of notes, she was carrying two long suit bags draped over her back. They hung from her fingers with a sense of reverence, as if she were handling something of great importance, and if you hadn’t already been confused before, the sight of her now only made your curiosity grow tenfold.

“I am home,” she announced, matter-of-factly, as though she hadn’t just spent the past month acting like a woman possessed. “Follow me, darling, I need to show you what I got us for Valentine’s celebration tomorrow.”

Your confusion only deepened, but you found yourself rising to your feet regardless, trailing after her down the hall, unable to shake the feeling that whatever she had planned, it was big. The last time she had put this much effort into a surprise had been your birthday four years ago, when she had spent weeks secretly building you a fully automated coffee station that catered to your every preference. The thought made something warm settle in your chest, and though you still had no idea what was going on, you knew one thing for certain.

Whenever Julie remembered—I have a darling waiting for me at home, waiting to be spoiled—it became an immutable fact, an unshakable priority that overrode all else. It wasn’t an obligation, nor was it something she did out of guilt or routine; it was simply what had to be done. And Julie McCanister never did anything halfway.

She went out of her way to spoil you, to dote on you in ways both grand and imperceptibly small, from gestures that defied what any average person could accomplish to the simplest, quietest acts of devotion. If something as insignificant as your favorite mug so much as chipped, she would already have a replacement ordered before you even had the chance to sigh over the damage. If you made an offhand comment about a book you wanted to read, she would somehow, somehow, acquire an early edition before it even hit the shelves.

No matter how many decades passed, no matter how many lifetimes she spent by your side, Julie McCanister would never, ever get used to your presence enough to forget to bring you something on the way home. It was a habit ingrained into her, a quiet ritual of devotion—one that never wavered, never dulled, no matter how many times she indulged in it.

And tonight was no different.

As she unzipped the first bag, your breath hitched at the sight inside. The fabric was pristine, luxurious, the kind of material that practically screamed money. Even without touching it, you could tell it was expensive—too expensive. Your first instinct was to protest, to ask her what in the world she was thinking spending this much on a simple Valentine’s date, but before you could even get a full sentence out, Julie did what Julie always did when she decided she didn’t want to hear your objections.

She kissed you.

It was brief, chaste, but effective all the same, successfully rendering you speechless as she pulled back, an infuriatingly pleased look on her face. “This, my dear,” she murmured, fingers ghosting over the fabric with quiet satisfaction, “is for our Valentine’s date tomorrow. This one is yours.” She gestured to the outfit in front of you before moving to the second bag. “And this one—” she unzipped it, revealing an equally extravagant ensemble, “—is mine.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply standing in mutual appreciation of the matching set. The colors, the detailing, the careful selection of fabric—it was all so deliberate, so well thought out that you almost didn’t notice at first. But then your gaze drifted, taking in the shades Julie had chosen for herself, and realization struck.

Julie hadn’t tailored the suit to be her usual dark tones. No navy blues, no deep greys or blacks—nothing that so much as hinted at her signature cool, muted aesthetic. Instead, every inch of her chosen outfit was composed of your favorite colors. Your favorite shade, your favorite tone, colors that weren’t hers but were undeniably you. And yet, strangely enough, the outfit didn’t look out of place in comparison to her usual style, small vest, neat button-up, long coat, and her beloved suit pants.

Then your eyes flickered back to your outfit, and the realization settled deeper. It was a perfect reversal—the colors, the undertones, the subtle details. It was Julie. She had chosen shades that reflected her own preferences, yet they weren’t imposed on you; instead, they complemented you flawlessly, as if she had studied every nuance of your features, your complexion, your hair, ensuring each choice enhanced rather than overwhelmed.

It was… intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. A quiet, unspoken devotion woven into fabric and color.

You turned to her, the weight of understanding pressing against your ribs, words forming but failing before they could leave your lips. 

Before she could utter a word, you moved, closing the space between you in an instant. Your arms wrapped tightly around her neck as you buried yourself in her warmth, the force of your embrace making her stagger slightly. A quiet gasp slipped past her lips, her hands instinctively finding your waist, steadying both of you. Then, slowly, the tension melted away. Her fingers curled against you, her hold firm but gentle. The corners of her lips lifted into the softest smile—small, but genuine. Content.

Julie let out a slow breath, allowing herself to sink into the embrace, her arms tightening around you as she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. A silent promise. A quiet I love you.

And yet, you still hadn’t noticed the small, unmistakable bulge in the pocket of the pants hanging nearby—the subtle outline of a box no bigger than her palm. A box too small to contain anything other than a ring.

Julie’s gaze flickered toward it, fingers twitching slightly at her side. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, gnawing at the edges of her control, threatening to unravel everything she had so carefully built. The urge to reach for it was unbearable, pressing against her restraint like an unchecked variable in an equation she hadn’t accounted for. It would be easy—too easy—to pull it out now, to let it unfold naturally, to drop to one knee before either of you had time to process it.

But no. She had to contain it—hold herself together, despite the undeniable urge to drop to her knees and slip that ring onto your finger right there. The weight of the moment, of the feelings that swelled up inside her, was pressing so hard against her restraint. The yearning to act on it, to do something grand, something that would make you look at her with wide eyes and glowing affection—it was almost unbearable.

And yet, she forced herself to stop. She couldn’t rush it. The day ahead, the moments she had painstakingly planned, would be perfect. Her mind was made up: this was going to be the epitome of romance. A grand gesture, something so profound and sweeping, that after it, you’d be overwhelmed—deliriously in love with her, swarming her with kisses and praises, calling her the most romantic soul alive. She was confident. At least 86% confident. Maybe 85.5%.

But the half-percent that lingered at the back of her mind didn’t matter. She had a plan, and she was going to see it through. She just had to hold on a little longer.

Eventually the two of you pulled away from the embrace and spent the rest of the day as domestically as possible. With the past month Julie had been so obsessive over this entire proposal she had ended up accidentally neglecting you and left you there to collect dust as she planned the perfect proposal. So today, the day before her big plan, she decided to completely pamper you with home-cooked meals, cuddling, and as much as you can handle with her lust.

The morning dawned slower than usual, but there was an unfamiliar softness to the air. The world outside seemed still, almost as if it, too, was waiting for what the day would bring. You woke to the sound of birds outside the window and the soft rustling of fabric from beside you. You didn’t recognize it at first, still heavy with the weight of sleep, but as your eyes cracked open, there she was. Julie McCanister, the apple of your eyes.

She kneeled beside the bed, her hands moving so carefully, so deliberately as she adjusted the blankets around you, making sure you were tucked in just right. Her fingers hovered over your face for a second, so hesitant before she laid her fingers upon the curve of your jaw.

The look in her eyes was… different. It wasn’t the usual confident gaze she held, the one that felt like she already knew the next step in everything. No, today, there was something softer. Something almost… tender. And when her eyes flicked to yours, she smiled so lightly, so gently, that it almost made your heart skip a beat.

God, this was strange—Julie smiling so early in the morning, looking down at you with a softness that felt almost foreign. Vulnerability wasn’t something she wore often, and yet here it was, clear in the way her lips curled just slightly, in the way her gaze lingered on you like you were something fragile, something precious. Julie never liked expressing emotions, never let them settle before she dissected them, rationalized them, and locked them away before they could take root. To her, emotions were unpredictable, inefficient—a problem to be solved rather than indulged.

But you were the exception. You always had been. Because when you smiled, when your laughter filled the air, it made something flutter deep in her chest, made the logic and calculations in her mind blur at the edges. And against all odds, she didn’t mind.

“Good morning,” she whispered, as if the words themselves had to be savored. She took her hand back, now laying her head on her arms, which were crossed over one another on the edge of the bed. Through the dim lighting of the room, the sun peeking through the blinds, you can see her entrancing green eyes gaze deeply into your face, studying every small crevice of your face like it her only purpose in life, “Did you sleep well?”

You could’nt help but be incredibly flustered, this is so incredibly intimate, inin ways you’ve never experienced before with Julie, this had so much love fueled behind it you almost wanted to punch yourself and make sure you weren’t dreaming. Although delayed by your day dreaming you nodded, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, rubbing furiously at your eyes.

But something in her gaze kept you rooted to the spot. There was something almost… tender about the way she looked at you. Julie wasn’t one to be sentimental, and yet her eyes held an intensity that made your breath hitch, like she was seeing you for the first time all over again.

Before you could question it, she moved—slow, deliberate, closing the space between you with the kind of confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. Her fingers ghosted along your jaw, tilting your chin ever so slightly, and for a moment, all you could hear was the quiet, measured cadence of her breathing.

The desperate look on your face was undeniable, and you knew it. You felt utterly vulnerable, biting at your lower lip, your legs pressed together as if that simple friction could ease the ache inside. Your eyes darted between her gaze and her lips, pleading without words, but every inch of you screamed for her touch, for her kiss. You couldn’t help it. You felt so exposed, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from her.

Julie, of course, knew you far too well. She saw through you—your every subtle shift, every hesitant movement, every unspoken need. And, as always, she loved you more for it. The way you were so unguarded, so unashamed in your longing for her, only made her want to indulge you.

Julie chuckled, her laughs always an airy laugh, she leaned in as close as she could and whispered into your ear, “You don’t have to say a word.”

Her breath was hot against your skin, her hands sliding back to rest against your neck, pushing herself even closer until her chest was flush against yours. The space between you no longer existed; only the heat of her touch, the magnetic pull that seemed to draw you to her without effort. Her lips brushed yours, slow and teasing, as if savoring the moment before finally, finally, she closed the gap.

Her kiss was everything you'd been craving—intense and consuming. Julie didn’t just kiss you; she enveloped you, devoured you, in a way that left your head spinning. Her hands traced the outline of your jaw, the back of your neck, grounding you in the dizzying sensation of being wanted, needed, by her. And you—desperate and greedy for her touch—let yourself melt into it, feeling the weight of her affection, her control, pressing against you.

Her kiss deepened, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place as if to remind you just how much she loved having you like this. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim, a promise of all the things she was willing to give you... and the things she wanted in return.

Every kiss felt like an indulgence, a slow burn that wrapped around your heart, leaving you breathless, craving more.

Julie never touched you like this—not without some teasing remark to accompany it, not without rushing off immediately for a long trip for work, but today? Today was different. She was drinking you in, her touch featherlight but unrelenting, lingering longer than necessary in a way that made your heart stutter. And this time, it wasn’t without a single string attached, no tease, no sex, no rushing. Julie was taking her time, and she didn’t want to take too long at the same time.

Finally, she pulled away, but the connection between you lingered—between your parted lips, a thin strand of saliva stretched, evidence of just how deep you had fallen into her. The sight alone sent heat rushing to your face, and in your flustered panic, you slapped a hand over your mouth, cutting off the string before it could betray you further.

Julie chuckled, low and amused, and that only made it worse. How was she so composed? So utterly unshaken, when you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest? It was almost unfair. This was the same Julie who was a sexless virgin before the two of you got together, who acted like she’d never touched another person before intimately.

Julie’s chuckle had barely faded when she suddenly stopped, her body going still against yours. The warmth of her breath, still uneven from the kiss, fanned across your lips, but something in her expression had shifted. Her usual self-assured confidence, the sharp wit always dancing in her eyes, wavered—just for a second.

Her hands, still cradling your face, tensed slightly, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding herself in the reality of you. Her pupils dilated, flickering between your lips and the flush that still painted your cheeks, before settling—hard, determined—on your eyes.

You looked so at peace, so beautifully messy, so… Perfect. Julie couldn’t stop staring, and she felt so incredibly ashamed to be so forward, but of course, she couldn’t help it. You were always cute, her dear darling, making the cutest noises, lips always parted for her, plump and red always from her ministrations, from her need to constantly have her own on yours.

Yet you never rejected her, you never looked at her strangely, even though her current behavior was strange, that you’d never seen her act like this, you embraced her. You let her do as she pleased because you loved her enough to trust her. And that fact alone had poor Julie’s heart jumping from joy and fear. Joy of how in love she is with you, and fear from what she’s about to say.

"Marry me."

What the fuck am I doing! This is supposed to be done after the orchestra! Not now!

Julie had never been the type to lose control—not in her work, not in her life, not in anything. Every action, every decision was calculated, planned, set in motion with a logic so airtight that nothing could shake her. And yet, here she was, staring at you, heart pounding so violently that she thought she might be sick, and for the first time in forever, she had no plan.

The words had slipped out before she could stop them, raw and unfiltered, bypassing the careful walls she always kept so firmly in place. Marry me. God, what was she thinking? Was she thinking at all? Her mind scrambled to justify it, to piece together the frayed edges of her self-control, but there was nothing—just you. You, looking at her with wide, startled eyes, lips still swollen from her kiss, breath coming in these soft little gasps that made her want to drown in you all over again.

Your breath hitched, your lips parting—but no sound came. For a second, you wondered if you'd misheard, if your mind was playing tricks on you, distorting reality in the haze of Julie’s touch. But she was still staring at you, still gripping you, and there was nothing uncertain about the way she’d said it.

Still, your voice barely came out above a whisper. "What...?"

Your mind barely had time to process the words before the weight of them came crashing down, sending your thoughts into a frantic, uncontrollable spiral. Marry me. No hesitation. No warning. No carefully planned moment. Just Julie, staring at you with an intensity that made your heart feel like it was about to shatter apart from how much you loved her.

It didn’t feel real. None of this did. Your chest was so tight with happiness it almost hurt, but it was tangled up in something else—something so overwhelming that it almost sent you reeling. This was Julie. Julie, who planned every move with cold, calculating precision. Julie, who had never been impulsive, who measured everything with logic, who didn’t let herself get carried away. And yet, she had just blurted out a proposal like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn’t add up. It couldn’t.

Your hands trembled slightly as you stared at her, your lips parting, but no words came out. You wanted to say yes—god, you wanted to—but your brain kept screaming at you that this wasn’t real, that any second now, she was going to pull back, shake her head, tell you she misspoke, that she wasn’t thinking straight. That this was just the heat of the moment, that she wasn’t actually asking.

Julie blinked, like she had just startled herself. For once in her life, her mouth moved before her mind, before she could run through a thousand calculations and arrive at the most logical course of action. And now, the words hung between you—heavy, irreversible, so completely and utterly hers.

Her jaw clenched, her fingers twitching where they rested against your skin, and you could practically see the internal war she was fighting. The ever-pragmatic, ever-meticulous Julie, who analyzed every possible outcome before making a move, had just proposed to you without a second thought. And that realization made something wild and untamed flicker in her eyes—something dangerously close to panic.

“I—” Her voice wavered, a rare crack in her perfect composure. Her grip on the bed tightened like she was trying to anchor herself. Just then did you realize, I’m laying on my side in my bed getting proposed to. You for certain did not look like you were meant to be proposed to right now, and that much made you so insecure. "I was supposed to do this differently. Today."

She swallowed, unaware of your own inner turmoil, her throat bobbing, frustration flashing across her face—not at you, but at herself, at her lack of control over this moment that had spiraled out of her hands. "I had a plan. A proper one. Everything was set up—the perfect setting, the perfect speech, the perfect ring, because of course I needed it to be perfect for you."

Her voice softened, a stark contrast to the intensity blazing in her gaze. "But then I kissed you, and—" She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, like she couldn’t even begin to put it into words. "And now I can’t wait. I don’t want to wait."

Something tightened in your chest.

Julie’s eyes never left yours, burning with a conviction that sent your pulse into a frenzy. This wasn’t some careless, heat-of-the-moment confession she'd regret later. No, this was deeper, heavier. Like she had carried the weight of these words for so long that they had begun to carve themselves into her bones.

She reached for your hand, her fingers slipping between yours, threading together like they belonged there. And when she spoke again, her voice was steadier, quieter—but no less intense.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t a declaration. It was a fact. A truth so absolute that it left no room for doubt.

You jolted upright so fast it nearly gave you whiplash, your blanket falling off your shoulders in a heap as you stared at her, wide-eyed. "Now?" you blurted, voice pitching up in disbelief. "You’re proposing to me right now? When I—" Your hands flew to your face, to your hair, to the rumpled clothes hanging off your frame. "Julie, I look like I just rolled out of bed! I—why would you propose to me when I look like—like this?!"

Your heart was hammering, pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears, a dizzying mix of happiness and absolute panic surging through your veins. This wasn’t how you’d pictured it. Not that you’d given much thought to your own proposal, but surely it wasn’t supposed to happen when your hair was a mess and sleep was still clinging to your body like an afterthought. You should be dressed up! There should be candles, or a fancy dinner, or at least some kind of preparation! Not this!

Julie’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before her expression softened into something warm, something endearingly amused. She let out a soft breath—a quiet laugh, really—and reached for you, her hands finding your arms as she pulled you closer. "Hey," she murmured, squeezing gently. "Slow down."

"Julie," you whined, still horrified, still flustered beyond belief, but her thumbs were already stroking soothing circles into your skin, grounding you. "I—this isn’t—"

"Yes sure this isn’t how I picture it, but it’s no less perfect to me!" she interrupted, her voice firm but unbearably tender. "You think I care about how you look right now?" She gave a short, incredulous laugh and shook her head. "You always look perfect to me. But more than that? This moment—you—this is real. This isn’t some perfectly rehearsed, artificial scene. This is me, looking at you, and knowing with absolute certainty that I want to spend my life with you.*"

You swallowed, your throat tight, your chest aching with the sheer force of the love in her words. Your lips parted, but no sound came out, because what could you possibly say to that?

Julie took your silence as permission to continue, her hands drifting up to cradle your face. "I love you," she whispered, her forehead brushing against yours. "Messy hair, sleepy face, half-asleep grumbles and all. I love you like this. I love you always. And I don’t need anything grand or perfect to know that I want to marry you. I just need you."

Your breath hitched, something overwhelming swelling in your chest. Because this—this wasn’t a dream, wasn’t some surreal, too-good-to-be-true moment. It was real. It was her. And it was perfect.

Her words were gentle, but there was this quiet certainty behind them that sent a shiver down your spine. How could someone so perfect in their own way love you so completely? Julie’s gaze was unwavering, as if she was pouring all of her feelings into you with just her eyes. The kind of love she held for you was pure and untouchable, and that, in itself, felt like both a comfort and a weight.

But despite her calm composure, there was a trace of nervousness in her eyes too, almost imperceptible to anyone else. The way she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, the way her fingers twitched as if she was afraid to touch you too much. You could see that she was just as overwhelmed as you—more than she’d ever let on. Julie was human, too.

Your heart beat faster as everything started to shift, as your own uncertainty began to melt away, replaced by something warmer, something all-consuming. There was something so real about the way she looked at you—how deeply she cared—and that was what made this whole situation feel right, no matter how unusual the moment seemed. She was never the kind of person to make a big show of things, and this quiet, intimate proposal, despite your disarray, felt entirely her.

A deep breath escaped you, and suddenly, without even realizing it, you found yourself back in front of her, your hands grasping onto her arms for support. You stared into her eyes, her face so close, and everything inside you just clicked. This was real. She was real.

You felt a surge of emotions course through you—love, joy, relief, and maybe a little bit of disbelief—and before you could second guess yourself, you surged forward. Your lips found hers in a kiss that was more desperate than you expected, more needy than you could’ve planned. It wasn’t planned at all, honestly, it was just instinct—raw and pure. You kissed her with all the confusion, the tenderness, the overwhelming feelings you couldn’t put into words.

Julie was caught off guard for a second, her breath hitching, before she leaned into it, her hands sliding up to your back, pulling you closer like she needed to make sure you were there, right there in her arms. And you were. You were so completely and utterly in love with her, your hands tangled in her hair, drawing her closer as if to make sure this wasn’t some dream. You kissed her again, deeper this time, a slow, tender moment that felt like the world had gone silent except for the two of you. No more doubts, no more second-guessing—just the simple truth of the moment.

When you finally pulled away, your breath mingled with hers, your heart hammering in your chest. "Yes," you said, the word leaving your lips with a breathless fervor. "Yes, yes, I’ll marry you, Julie."

Julie froze for a moment, as if the world had just come to a halt, and then a smile broke across her face—soft, relieved, and full of joy. Her fingers touched your face with tenderness, a slow, reverent caress, as if she were trying to memorize every inch of you. "I love you," she whispered, her voice shaky but filled with so much emotion that it made your heart flutter in your chest. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," you whispered back, your voice thick with all the emotions you couldn’t even begin to describe.

And in that moment, you both knew—this was real. All of it was real. The love, the proposal, the kiss—everything. The overwhelming feeling of rightness, of finally being where you belonged.

[clock-06]

There’s this idea of a dynamic for BillFord that’s been causing havoc in my skull and begs for escape, so it’s gonna get to today.

Basically Ford is more self aware and catches onto the fact that Bill has fallen for him, and starts manipulating him back for his own goals. Cause Ford was already a mad scientist, there’s a reason Bill thought Ford would join him in weirdmaggedon (go re-read the Rudolph thing, he’s pretty unhinged)

Ford was nerdy as hell, and definitely took a psych class in college, and starts using operant conditioning on Bill. While Bill does have feelings for Ford, he still sees him as lesser, because he’s Human, and figures Sixer doesn’t have the capacity to manipulate or disobey him, and by the point it’s an active plan, Ford has conditioned him enough to not even check.

It’s a slow start, but Ford figures out that Bill is more willing to do things for him when he’s given rewards for it, ie, calling him “Muse” tends to make him put more effort into things, he has favorite sweaters that Ford wears and Bill will be more attentive to what Ford wants or needs when he’s wearing them. Eventually, Ford starts using these as rewards when Bill is forwarding Ford’s goals instead of his own, and very soon has a personal and trained dream demon.

By the time the Portal is fully built and operational, Bill has basically told the Henchmaniacs “Hey, we’ll do that apocalypse thing after IQ and I have a little research trip across a few dimensions, I’ve got to make sure he stays safe cause he’s my ticket to the portal” and they’re all like “excuse me fucking what no just kill him” and after the first few protesting comments end with the utterer in dust, the rest of the gang just shuts up, most of whom vow to get Sixer killed while he and Bill are traveling together.

Because everything’s going according to plan, Stanley isn’t called to the Shack to hide the journals, but rather to protect the shack and journals while Ford is traveling. It’s a very confusing letter, and by the time Stan determines that it’s actually real, he barely gets there in time to watch his brother disappear through the portal before it autolocks and shuts down. He still starts up the Mystery Shack because he feels weird about the money Ford left him, unsure if it’s actually real, and needs a way of income. The twins still do come to visit for the summer, and Stanley still legally becomes Stanford as a cover story, but it’s not a car crash this time because Ford left behind an intricate plan for how to erase him without leaving any trace and Stan goes “well I’m wanted for a lot of crimes, I’ll just use this for myself.”

There is more Bill memorabilia around the house because Ford wants to be able to keep an eye on what Stan is doing, and Dipper does find the third Journal, hidden in the floorboards beneath his bed, and the pages on bill contain a detailed account of his powers as well as invisible ink containing the plans for Weirdmaggedon that Ford knows Bill has. This leads to Dipper fucking hyperventilating and trying to warn them all about Bill, which is very awkward when he comes back through the portal, lying contentedly in Ford’s fluffy hair.

TLDR: Ford realizes two can play the manipulation game and plays with Bill’s feelings for his own benefit, and Stan gets the shack because Ford goes through the portal to keep researching and writing his journals with an overpowered dream demon happily pressed under his heel

[mi-ni-me]

Hooooooomygawd. This is exactly what I was ranting about in my last post! I should’ve been posted this, but of course everytime I try I get immediately distracted and start scrolling or completely forget and walk away doing something else 😅. BUT HEYYYYY IM HEREEEE, and I’ve decided this week’s spread is underfell based since that’s what most doodles I had were🌚. So let’s just jump right into it,,

1-4.)First off an Underfell! Papyrus spread cause I luv him and I wanted to have one to match his brother. I’ve been planning on doing spreads for each skeleton but obviously that’s going to take a little longer than planned lol! My underfell papyrus has no eye-lights, not because he’s blind but because I like it best aesthetically. I also hc he wakes up early to go to the store, but is still grumpy cause it’s 5 am…even though it’s his personal routine he did to himself🌚. Though! He wears sweats and that’s the ONLY time you’ll catch him in some sweats. His primary weapon is a sharp ended bone for easy access, he’s 6’6 with his heeled boots on, which are inspired by a certain someone. Finally, he has a stinky lazy cat named Doomfanger, I personally don’t like cats but I’d try for him,,

5,6,7.)HOO doggy I needs him😩 my uf!Gaster otherwise known as “Ego” n some background info for him and the boys when they were younger. He was the Royal Mad Scientist and very smart yet incredibly self centered, his experiments sons Sans and Papyrus stay home until he gets back after long hours and can be gone for days at a time. Though his oldest, Sans is very responsible they still wish he didn’t work his hours. Finally, before his disappearance into the core, his sons were both visiting before everything went down, Dr.Gaster, who after finally achieving SOMETHING within the core is faced with two incredibly difficult choices, he who is OBVIOUSLY MAD!!!!!??! Decides to instead leave his children in order to see the truth. This without a doubt is one of the first of many hardships young Sans and Payrus face.

8,9,10.)Last but not least a cat study page for Doomfanger since I found out I wanted to draw a cat without knowing how to draw a cat whatsoever, so I practiced!! Doomfanger is stinky cause he doesn’t like baths, lazy from lack of discipline (surprising but Edge can’t even yell at the poor thing.), and greedy from overeating, does this sound like someone we know?🌚 He has a scar across his left eye and half his fluffy tail is almost bare leaving only fluff at the end. Doomfanger doesn’t get along well with his uncle, which many find odd as they’re incredibly similar, too bad they don’t see it themselves. (Bonus Edge holding kitten Doomfanger, the beginning of a deadly friendship. And yes this one is noticeably newer than the others but it’s on the same page and fits the theme so let’s assume it was there from beginning 🌚😂)

[yeahspider]

stretch my hands ❄️

Ve’s note - omg first post of 2024 ! and ofc it’s a fluffy bang chan fic . sfw it’s all soft and warm . sparsely proofread . short and sweet ! enjoy <3

a warm light in his eyes is what woke chris up . which was weird because it was usually his alarm clock . the sun greeting him before his phone screen was strange . with his terrible sleep schedule it’s usually him kissing the sun good morning . but not today . no today he was off . no work . no meetings . no deadlines . he was free for 24 hours .

stretching his arms out he blindly searched for you . but all he was met with was an empty space . sadness creeped up in his chest . chris was certain you both were off today . schedules rarely lining up together he had thanked last luck for allowing him a reprieve from endless days . but you weren’t here .

a smell coming from the kitchen offended his senses . no . there was no way you were trying to cook . emphasis on trying . he jumped out of bed . almost tripping on his shirt that you discarded for him last night . stepping out the room and following the sound of frustration chris made his way to the kitchen . which could barely be called that .

he finally found you . dressed in his shorts that you swore you didn’t have . and you were knee deep into the mess which was probably supposed to be breakfast . chris watched as you frantically ran around , adding this and that to a recipe that he assumed was pancake batter . next to the stove was a stack of burnt pancakes . your previous tries obviously not proving successful .

“ahh cmon where is the fucking milk i just had it a few seconds ago…” he heard you mutter to yourself . it seemed you had yet to notice his presence as you mumbled out nonsense to yourself . a habit he found endearing and not concerning at all . chris looked to his right and found the milk you had been looking for and thought it was time to officially help you out . he grabbed it and went to hand it to you until you suddenly turned and screamed in his face . standing there stunned chris just laughed at you . which he could tell irritated you slightly .

“why would you walk up on me like that chris you know im jumpy god you made my heart drop to my ass” he heard you say . which only caused him to laugh more . he loved how jumpy you were . your reaction being priceless everytime .

“well maybe if someone wasn’t acting like a mad scientist in our kitchen she would’ve noticed me.” he said to you as he kiss the frown on your lips . chris could never find you anything but cute . your antics made his heart full .

“mad scientist ? god forbid wanting to do something nice for my hardworking super sexy husband .”

“nothing nicer than waking up to a destroyed kitchen.”

“okay you know what christopher -“

he stopped whatever insult that’s was going to come out your mouth with another kiss and a smile . running his hands up and down your sides you calm you . you both knew that it was all jokes .

“what if i order something for us instead, yeah ? i’ll help you clean the kitchen and then we can eat and lounge in bed all day.” he suggested as you tapped your chin pretending to think his offer over .

“that sounds a whole lot better than eating burnt pancakes for breakfast . deal ! ”

[wowieeitsisa]

Sorting things out >.>

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 3.5

Propaganda

Lord Arum (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel) (Boba Count: 3):

umm he's a purple lizard monster that's at least two meters tall, like hello how is that not the sexiest thing you've ever heard. he met two separate humans and said I want to fight them both and he did, and then he said I want to fuck them both and he also did!

Sydney Sargent (Camp Here & There) (Boba Count: 1):

GNC Trans guy with every disorder<3

He’s chronically ill

Has BPD and experiences psychosis

Terribly malnourished because he was cursed to only eat bread & butter

Has mommy issues for days (some with a woman that isn’t even his mom)

Gay yearning for his emotionally repressed childhood friend

Died & was resurrected by a mad scientist with religious trauma

So starved of validation, he got with his stalker (A cult leader who terrorized him at his workplace)

Nobody knows how to love this guy normally. It’s always someone projecting their desire for an idol onto poor Sydney.

Guys he really needs the win

VOTE FOR SYDNEY NOWWWWNOWNOWNOW HES LIGTERALLU SO HOT

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Lord Arum (The Penumbra Podcast: Second Citadel):

#lord arum is a tsundere who makes best noise

#lord arum is a hor purple lizard monster who owns my heart okay #yes i would fuck the 2 meter anthropomorphic lizard monster okay. and what? so would you

Sydney Sargent (Camp Here & There)

Canon trans man, initials are LITERALLY S.O.S. how cool is that I love him, the only thing holding camp here and there together I swear, yearning, pining, aching, HE JUST WANTS A HUG PLEASE GIVE HIM A HUG

sydneyyyy october sargent

#VOTE SYDNEYYYYY #hes being consumed by the forest he has a SpIn in mushrooms hes silly [CANON] he roleplays warrior cats with his worms #everyone hates him and wants him dead but god said Faggot! you will live forever (/ref) #he was behind the ketamine needle incident. #he’s goth he likes wearing fluffy dresses he’s canonically trans he’s fat he’s 5’3 he has every disease #hes autistic he wears mushrooms and live insects in his hair #YOUR BODY MY TEMPLE WAS WRITTEN ABOUT HIM. NEED I SAY MORE #HES EVEN GAY #PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU HES SO IMPORTANT TO ME orz #ok thats all thank you and goodnight

#SYDNEY. IT’S SYDNEY. #i haven’t listened to chnt in forever but sydney is very sexy. very much indeed. that says a lot coming from me.

Propaganda for Sydney. I want him. I want him so bad it’s not even funny