#his mullet is real to me

[cheezyfucc]

sihg

[uniworu]

i was overcome with visions of klapollo in an 80s slasher film

progress pics

[buttl0rd]

another spark dump

[teeth-draws]

This was meant to be the first picture in a series but ummm idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Rising from the dead to doodle my favourite boy from @shepherds-of-haven

[lameow-l]

GAMING IS MY SON AND IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM IM GONNA KILL EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM AND THEN MYSELF!!

LOOK AT HIM HES SO CUTE

i still have hope in getting the other boys too

its ok they can be a band or smth.. at least then gaming wouldn’t have to be so disappointed in people not hiring him bc he’s just having fun with his boys…

[stressedanime]

if people really want “country boy” will solace. commit. give that boy a mullet

[zandiks-note]

second and third faves

[fiendishfyre]

Remus? Having a mullet? Nah, at most he'd have a crew cut. Very generic, clean, basic.

[super-marihoes]

what if they swapped 👀

[ghost-qwq]

Singular doodle for once... I will post on time for once

[popcorn-milk]

is starfield very (and i mean VERY) flawed? yeah. but am i having the time of my life zipping around space with my space cowboy boyfriend and all my space friends? YEAHHHHH

[imblocking-you]

SECOND POST KASI PUNO NA 'YUNG ISA

[razzafrazzle]

whenever i see people draw garfield as a catgirl they always make him feminine and young. you dont understand him like i do. anyways theyre both transbians to me

[image description: a drawing of garfield and arlene from the garfield comics depicted as catgirls. garfield is depicted as a fat, light-skinned, hairy woman with short orange mullet hair, freckles, a white tank top, orange shorts, and orange sneakers, and arlene is depicted as a tall, dark-skinned woman with short curly pink hair, red lipstick, a red dress, sheer tights, and pink pumps. arlene is sitting on a countertop and looking down at garfield, who is sitting in a chair with his legs spread, picking at his teeth and smiling. the drawing is made to look as though it were a real garfield comic panel. end id]

[mr-jack-letterman]

We need more young stan content out here.

And nah I ain't talking about 12 year old Stanley or 30 year old mullet Stan, I'm talking 17 year old, slicked back hair, acne riddled Stan pines.

Yeah that one.

I am so happy mullet Stan is so popular because his fit slaps ngl and the angst is so potent I can't not respect it. But teenage Stan has so much potential it's driving me insane.

There is a line dividing the 17 years of relative happiness Stan had with Ford and the 10+ years of depression and crime he had on the streets, and teenage Stan uses that line as a goddamn jump rope.

Seriously, depending on how you look at it dude is either living his best life or is fighting for said life in the trenches of homelessness and poverty.

I see a lot of content regarding Stan on the streets but it only ever focuses on 30ish Stan in his later years of homelessness where he's already a hardened adult after years of dealing with this bullshit. But Stan didn't just drive away and then magically turn 30. There were times in those first few months after Stan got kicked out where he was in his car, trying to sleep, probably starving, while still being fundamentally a child.

Hell, compared to the 30ish age of mullet Stan and the 60+ year old con man he'd later become, teenage Stan is damn near a baby. There's a certain brightness about him, a sort of warm naive optimism that still clings to him because he's straight up just too young to know any better.

He's still fully convinced he's gonna make it rich and go back to his family in a few years. He still believes wholeheartedly that even if shit sucks right now, eventually everything is gonna be okay. It has to be. But it's not gonna be okay. It's not gonna be okay for a long time. And some parts are just never gonna be okay.

Seeing a happy and oblivious teenage Stan feels like watching a baby lamb walk into a slaughter house.

The next 10-something years are going to tear him apart limb from limb. In 40 years he's going to wake up on a boat during a bout of amnesia thinking he's in Columbian prison, or he's locked in the trunk of a car and about to drown, or his shoulder is on fire and his brother is gone, or it's the end of the world and everyone he ever dared to give a shit about is about to die in front of him and it's all his fault because he was too weak to stop it.

At some point, a young Stanley is going to get into his first true life or death fight. He doesn't even have to be involved with crime yet for it to happen. He's probably bruised and bleeding, with not nearly enough money to afford a doctor. He's sitting in the driver's seat of his El Diablo having a complete and utter break down because he almost died and suddenly everything is real.

Nothing is okay, absolutely nothing is going to be okay and whatever is left of his teenage innocence, naivety, and warmth dies in that car and it never comes back.

The next 10+ years are going to fundamentally change Stanley as a person and he's never going to be the same ever again. But teenage Stan doesn't know that, he's still a kid trying to sleep in the back of his car, ignoring hunger pangs and finding comfort in the half baked business ideas his mind cooks up because he doesn't understand how utterly done for he is.

12 year old Stanley I believe is so appealing because of his bright rambunctious spirit. He's still just a kid playing on the beach with his brother, but so was teenage Stan. I just wish the wholesomeness that comes with that and the subsequent hurt that follows as that spirit is broken over and over again by the world was explored more.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[ch4rrykisses]

when boyfriend!rafe decided to grow a mullet, there was so much going through your head. some thoughts more impure than others

rafe never considered growing his hair out to be long again after he buzzed it— in all honesty, the buzz was just more convenient; his scalp never got overheated with a head of hair, he didn’t have to slick it to the side or have curtain bangs constantly brushing over his eyes making it harder to see. but when his girl suggested he grow it out for the fall and the cooler months, who was he to deny her?

when you’d convinced rafe to grow it out, you thought that meant going back to that messy, curtain bang look you loved oh so much, but after the remainder of august, september and october spent growing it out? it almost looked like a shaggy mess. he decided to get that fixed. so the day he got a haircut to clean up, he said he was coming home with a surprise for you. you had no idea he’d essentially changed his look completely.

upon stepping through the doors of tannyhill you practically skidded over to him, eyes immediately locked on the hair, the sides shaved down while the ends at the nape of his neck curled off to the sides slightly, hair atop his head all messy in a way that had the cotton of your panties getting soaked through. god he looked like a walking wet dream.

rafe’s lips quirked up, that signature, cocky smirk gracing his features making him look even better than he already did. you took a step closer to him, fingers sliding into the hair at the back of his head, sliding the softness through your fingers.

“looks real good rafe,” you mumbled, rafe swore he saw something dance through your eyes, along the lines of mischievous, needy in a sense.

“yeah? y’like that? huh?” he rasped out, voice low. one step through the front door and he’d already felt as if he walked into a dragons den with you. a large palm splayed over the small of your back as your head nodded in response.

“like it, yeah, like it a lot.” your nails softly scraped over his scalp, eliciting a groan from his mouth, the throaty noise causing another pang of arousal to shoot down from your stomach, thighs clenching in turn. after that moment it was almost like a frenzy, before you could think your lips were crushing against one another's, his hands lifting the underside of your thighs, holding you with ease as he walked up the spiral staircase.

his fingers brushed over the crotch of the light blue cotton underwear you’d been wearing once you reached his room, hazy eyes dropping downwards once he parted from you.

“this how hot y’get from a damn haircut, baby? get you acting all crazy?” he cooed, patronizing tone covering his voice, the only sound you’d been able to give in return was a weak whine, hips beginning to gyrate in order to catch his thumb against your clit.

he swore he’d never seen a hotter sight then right now, his girl a mess all because he got a haircut? he wouldn’t complain though. if this is all that needed to happen to get you worked up he'd gladly continue. you knew rafe had always been good looking but this? this haircut? it called for a whole new plan of action. the plan of him getting you stuffed full of cock from how good he looked.

“shittttt,” his voice was a gravely whisper, lips parted while he pushed the fabric off to the side, single digit pushing past your sopping folds and into your fluttering hole. a squeak fell from your lips, head now heavy falling onto his shoulder. he hadn’t even put you on your feet yet, enjoying the way that he could simply hold you with a single arm while the other was stuffed between your legs. now he was positive you couldn't even stand on your own. “yeah, fuckin like this shit don’t you? huh? god damn, look at this little pussy. she’s leakin for me.” he drawled.

the only response you could muster was a weak moan, the second he pushed in another finger? it was like cloud nine hit. he pumped them in and out of you, thumb rubbing lazy circles at your bud, the slick noises of your juices filling the room, and part of him wondered if this is what heaven felt like, if he was catching a glimpse of it right now.

moans were akin to fountain the way they flowed from your lips, noises that were once all soft now a mess of hiccups, whimpers and gasps, especially as the orgasm you were feeling in the pit of your stomach got closer with every flick of his thumb, every curl of his fingers inside you. rafe swore he was going to lose his mind, the second you clenched around his fingers he did in fact. his lips covered yours in a hasty kiss, tongue sloppily entering your mouth and tangling up with yours.

that right there was your tipping point.

in what could have probably be considered record timing in your books, he had you creaming over his hand, shaky little whimpers falling against his lips which were entirely swallowed by his mouth, juices flowing down his fingers until you swore he’d finger fucked you dry. his lips pulled away from yours, eyes glued to your thighs as they trembled around his forearm.

“fuck, if id’a known i'd have you moaning my name like that, would’ve gotten this shit done sooner.” a lazy giggle slipped out at his words, the elated noise slipping out of your lips before you could stop it.

oh this haircut was such a good idea.

[mywritersmind]

THE FAT MAN IN THE RED - LN4

summary : Lando Norris promised two hours of his night to wave to little ballerinas and have them whisper their wishes to him in a Santa costume. His night starts looking up when a woman his age lands on his lap.

listen up : no warnings tbh! suggestive jokes SORRY ITS SO SHORT I WAS GONNA WRITE A LOT BUT ITS ALREADY CHRISTMAS TO HAVE THIS

words : 692

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Oh please! Come meet Santa!” My little sister Mari tugs on my hand. She’s in a little pink tutu and a slick back bun, her ballet shoes have been changed into her usual converse.

We’re at an after party/fundraiser for her ballet show, the kids were all surprised by a man dressed as santa. She was adorable, a tiny Clara!

Mari skips off with her friends as I turn to mine. Kat downs her drink, “I need another one. Too many kids around.” I laugh and clink her already empty champagne glass.

We walk off to the bar, looking up at the giant chandelier and sprawling stairways. This theater is beautiful, kids in costumes and glitter run around while the society of Monaco gossips and laughs in their presence.

We grab more champagne, smoothing out my dark plum dress and almost twisting an ankle with these silver heels my sister begged me to wear.

“Y/n!” Mari yells, hopping up and down, in line to meet the big man himself. Or… a knock off.

“Oh my.” Kat elbows me, “I’d let him slip down my chimney-” I scoff loudly and laugh, hitting her arm.

“What about that french boy you met?” I raise a brow, my eyes lingering on the man whose face is partially covered by a white wig and beard.

“Oh I see him.” She winks as I giggle, “Come on then, you must meet this cute santa!” I groan as she drags me to the back of the line, “I’ve heard whispers… he’s twenty six.” She whispers as I watch two F1 drivers walk past us.

“I am not sitting on his lap!” I laugh, shaking my head and sipping my drink, Kat grips my arm and pulls me to the front next to Mari.

“What are you asking for?” Mari asks me, clapping her little hands together and tapping her feet.

Her friends touches my dress, “This is so pretty!”

“I heard he’s famous.” One of the ballerinas behind us says just as I get pushed onto the little stand and an elf guides me.

He looks at me, all dressed up and in a whole fat suit. I can’t help but laugh as I get helped onto his lap. I honestly feel horribly awkward, “Sorry… my friend made me.”

His eyes are green, the kind of striking color that stops your thoughts. He tugs down his fake beard, exposing his face and smile.

A very attractive face and smile. “Don’t worry. Are you gonna make me do the voice?” He's got freckles and an accent.

I smile softly, “There’s a voice?”

“What are you asking for this christmas?” He says it in a deep santa like voice.

I laugh, “That’s good.”

“Why thank you…” I raise a brow at his trailing off, “I need a name to match the pretty face, and for the address of your gifts, I suppose.”

Oh he’s a flirt. “Y/n.” I nod, “You gonna make me call you santa?” His fingers brush the side of my hip.

“I’m not that into role playing…” He shakes his head and I spot a tiny dark curl by his ear, “Okay the elf’s are about to get mad. What would you like for Christmas, Y/n?”

He says my name, looking me dead in the eye. Shit I think I might be attracted to Santa.

I bite my lip, “How about, what time Santa gets off?”

His smile shifts into a smirk, “Christmas came early, I guess. Ten.”

He meets me in an empty hallway, Its almost hard to tell if it’s him because of his change in clothes.

He's in a black suit, bowtie and everything. He’s far more agreeable without the white hair.

In fact, the white is replaced with real curls. Dark curls cut into a nice mullet that suits his face. It was in fact a fat suit that I can now clearly see was horribly fake.

I have a sneaking suspicion that tonight is going to be extra interesting now. His hands go to his pockets, that smile on display again for me. “I’m Lando.”