#it was weird idk man

[furballfaggot]

just had a dream where there was a homebrew 3ds game (although it played exactly like a regular ds game) called Julie's Jewelbox that was deliberately made as a "creepy" game but without the tropes like "ooooh its hAUUUnteeeddd!!!!" or "jumpscare Here jumpscare There put another one in the Corner lots of Blood etc etc" and was the focus of many a horror-gaming youtuber at the time

there were segments where you had to watch a video on the top screen and then answer 4 mostly-related questions as you went along on the bottom screen, you had a pet you couldnt actually take care of (no button on the menu) but i think also couldnt die so they just deteriorated as you played, gamemodes and minigames that were entirely unfinished ("This feature is not implemented yet!") and just displayed broken models and sprites or fucked up backgrounds and shit, there were a lot of cameos from famous youtubers in the videos (first two i can remember are matpat and tom cardy) for like Zero Reason, and the music was all intentionally made to be just Stereotypically Creepy enough to be off-putting

the videos themselves were reminiscent of things like This House Has People In It, and they were done in the styles of the cameos. tom cardy got a music video, matpat specifically got a game theory live bit for some reason, etc. etc. and most of them involved the characters they played (fictional versions of themselves) just. quietly dying by the end. no fanfare, no jumpscare, no mourning. just dead! you couldnt return to the videos afterwards, would just claim that the feature wasnt implemented yet, and those characters wouldnt appear in any other videos

the pet i mentioned 3 decades ago would always be on the top screen in the menu, which youd be booted back to every time you finished something, and they would have an animation where they turn to look at you from the side of the screen where youd see their devolving condition in detail before it hard cut to them just sitting on the top screen doing some idle animations -- though notably they still looked like ass

all the ui and menus were pink. it was made to resemble a stereotypical "girls game" through and through. julie herself was a woman with brown hair in a ponytail with a purple shirt on. which is strikingly similar to my fashion sense around the time the look and vibes of the game as advertised in a world where it was a normal ds game would have sold me on it actually. funny how that works! anyways julie was barely present in the game itself but she sure as hell had voice lines and these voice lines would pop in at various points to comment on things

i remember 2 distinct moments that, of all things, the in-game keyboards were fucked. you couldnt type with the 3ds keyboard so you had to use the in-game ones, but one of them had the strangest letter inputs and the other had the strangest way of ordering the letters. ill doodle em when ive got time but i assure you it was not fun

when i woke up i was convinced it was real for like a solid 30 seconds. it is not

[meatgrinder-0]

me at the interdimensional ramen bar of past regret

[fishluring]

the funny cave bug

[shotapiss]

"proship" "comship" "darkship"

*old man voice* baack in my day we just called it a "ship"

[magic-worms]

two primates

finally drew the tf2 baboon!! + some doodles i wanted to feature mostly heavy in since i haven’t seen nearly enough art of them together. i think he is a proud and loving dad. more under the cut

[anime-villian-irl]

"id let the world burn for you"

"I'd kill for you"

"id die for you"

"I'd sacrifice the world for you"

BORING!

Yawn snore snore. Honk shoo honk shoo.

I got twelve other guys ready to that for me. You already do that. You already destroy the world I would just happen to be there while you did.

The real question is.

Would you save the world for me?

Would you put aside your hatred for humanity and put my love for it Infront? Would you save the world because I love the world? Would you stop killing because I hate killing? Would you find a way to live because I want you alive?

Death and destruction are easy as hell. Do you know how fucking easy it is to kill someone? To blow up a building? Shure security is in the way but if it wasn't there it would be easy as hell.

You'd do the basics shure. But would you do the hard thing and save the world because I asked you to?

Would you push aside your hatred of everyone but me because I asked you to nicely?

Would you?

[yourfaveisanavatar]

this guy from the tubi ad all over tumblr right now is an avatar of the flesh!

[crowiin]

[stevenrogered]

Andrew Garfield and Goldie Hawn at the 2025 Oscars

[chalkrub]

pwyw com from last month ! these are closed now but i will open again at the end of feb maybe

[tubbytarchia]

Missed drawing these two too

Bonuses

[scramratz]

How did y’all choose your names? Was it just trial and error?

[redwitchrune]

had some time to think and watch people watch the minecraft movie trailer, and i think I've realized my main gripe with it. out of all the directions they could have chosen, why did they go with the one they did???

like. okay. i watched both phil and mumbo watch the trailer who had very different and opposite thoughts. i think mumbo was right in that it seems like it's trying to be an absurd, camp, and silly movie that makes fun of itself. the style (how ever mismatched) leans into that and the humor seems to go in that direction. and I think for what it's trying to be (camp, absurd, making fun of itself), it will probably be an okay movie! the focus won't be on minecraft, it will be on the minecraft world, if that makes sense. the look and mechanics over the feel and vibe.

on the other hand. i hate that they chose this direction. minecraft is such a game of stories, of the hidden stories, of what you make of the mysterious and wonderful world around you. you have the end poem. you have the music. you ha e the ruins. you have new expiernces and wonder and fear. yes it's a big world, but it also feels small. it's just you! in this abandoned and recovering world. and it loves you.

it just feels like that whole aspect of the game doesn't matter here. it's just the surface level appearance, mechanics, and look of the game. it honestly feels more like minecraft legends than normal minecraft, but even then it's missing the whimsy of legends.

yes it looks bad. yes it has like four different art styles. I think for what they're trying to do it will be Okay at best. but what it could've been. that's the real loss. It could've been about nostalgia. about love. about the universe. about making your own world with your own hands. about the quiet emptiness left behind you now have to live in. those raw experiences that won't be considered. whatever

[dammarchy211]

Sasha Nein sunday

[sunwhispers]

whatever. go my royal mzen

[pricegouge]

the erotic pin up thought but imagine nikolai tattooing his favourite pic and surprising his lover with it :3

he's already been away for two weeks when you get a text from an unknown number. you don't need the contact to discern who it is, anyway. in istanbul. things are running long. don't expect me back so soon. you're not expecting a reply when you tell him not to worry, to just keep himself safe, but you're delighted when you get one anyway.

>>You too, milaya.

he messages you at least once a day, just to check in. you've never been able to contact him like this while he's been on mission before and you don't want to ruin it by being too needy but the temptation of your phone lays heavy in your pocket all week. you'd hate to interfere but he makes it hard when he keeps up a slow, steady means of communication. you wonder about the mission, don't dare ask. it seems unlikely that he'd let himself be so distracted if it were something high stakes, though. it's possible he's been relegated to glorified taxi while bigger pieces make their moves and you can't help but sympathize when you picture him waiting around, dining in the quaint kind of cafes he'd never really seemed to find an appreciation for - at least, not on his own. he was always happy enough to take you but it had always been very clear where his interest lied, dark eyes trained on you even as he ordered. observant, filing away each little reaction he could pull from you with savory dishes and select deserts. you flatter yourself, imagining his patience breaking, just a little more each day, just enough to text you, earlier and earlier each day until two weeks have come and gone and you've basically fallen into a constant rapport.

you ask for pictures of the city and he obliges, little peeks into the life he's living while away. yet more evidence this is some bizarrely political mission he doesn't really need to be present for. you note when he moves locales a few times but he tactfully avoids telling you his location again. he stops sending you pictures altogether when you start guessing correctly.

so you start sending him pictures instead. they start out innocent enough, testing the limits of what you're allowed to say on this line. he shows gives no intent to stop you when you show him the view from the summit of a local hike, nor even when you snap a picture outside a local restaurant, its logo left carelessly in frame. he only tells you to enjoy, doubles down when you send a selfie with your cheeks stuffed full of spanakopita.

you start to think he deserves a reward, being on the clock for nearly a month straight and still finding the time to check in with you.

his hangar is a sacred place, one you rarely enter without his accompaniment. too many expensive tools, machinery pulled apart with all its fragile bits exposed. you're always afraid to touch, afraid to break. nik had told you once that every item there was made of sterner stuff, that you couldn't hurt a swashplate if you climbed up on it. funny how you might be taking him up on the offer now.

(you wouldn't know really, the knowledge about what a swashplate even was having gone in one ear and right out the other. not your fault when he looked that good, jumpsuit folded down to reveal a sweaty, clingy tank top, wiry hair visible through the thin ribbed material.)

but you're getting ahead of yourself.

the tarp kicks up a mess when you pull it free, concrete dust having settled in nik's absence. it sends you into a sneezing fit and you curse, smudging your makeup as you try to wipe away the moisture collecting on your lash line. you decide to roll with it when you catch a glimpse of yourself in some nearby chrome, see the kind of effect it brings to your overall look.

your makeup is classic, a bright lip and exaggerated liner. even a painted on beauty mark to really knock it home. the outfit was harder to settle on, your every instinct telling you nik always appreciated when you looked your finest, all dolled up in expensive labels he'd bought for you. but ultimately you'd decided what was good for the goose was good for the gander, pilfering from his closet until you'd found what you were looking for, the exact same outfit which drove you mad.

nik's a big man, his jumpsuit made to reflect that. it drapes away from your waist when you let it hang but it's nothing that a clever safety pin corset can't fix, the top of the suit left to hang over it, hiding it away. long legs are easier to remedy, hems tucked into a pair of hiking boots you hadn't cared about in years, now painted to look the part with the same gear grease you'd smeared all over yourself, tasteful swipes meant to accentuate your soft curves, here on display under the dirty tank top you'd sworn you'd told him to get rid of, now tied tight around your waist to show off your chest. and now with your smudged makeup you think you've finally got it right, the look exactly what you'd been going for when you'd first got the notion in your head.

with the stage already set, the photoshoot goes easily enough. the poses are almost instinctual, the big wrench you wield almost natural in your hands as you lean provocatively over the engine block, tits to squished you doubt he'll ever even notice the size isn't right for the bolts in front of you. you try a couple of different styles, positions which are obviously designed with aesthetics in mind interspersed with more competent looking ones, even though it makes you feel ridiculous when you think of how obvious it will be to him that you don't know what you're doing.

you just have to remember how little he's going to mind it, all told.

editing isn't your strong suit. you're racked with doubt all the while, hyperfocused on every little flaw you spot. it gets easier when you remember the whole shoot is meant to be quite grimy and in the end you settle on a decent collection. you even remember to upload them to a file sharing site to avoid compression, sending him the link with a wink and a warning not to open in front of his comrades.

he calls you naughty immediately, but it's long hours before he can properly respond, a call that wakes you up in the middle of the night so he can pant and moan in your ear about how much he wants to bend you over that engine, peel his suit off of you and eat your cunt from the back. it's the first time you've heard his voice in weeks and the low rumble of it conspires with the slickness in your panties which never fully righted itself after your little photoshoot, the anticipation of his reaction keeping you primed for him. you come together before trading quiet reassurances. how much you miss each other, how you can't wait to see him again. he makes a vague promise to be home soon and you're still so sated that the twinge of loneliness feels like nothing really.

you think that's the end of it. that maybe he'll request more, at most. but then you wake up days later with a furnace at your back and a hairy arm draped over your side. it's still early, the sun not even up yet. you should let him sleep but you can't help rolling within the age of his arm and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. even in the low light you can see how haggard and hollow he looks, run ragged for too long. his beard is overgrown, the short stubble he usually keeps filling out into a decent beard.

really it's unfair how handsome he looks even now.

"go back to sleep."

you huff a laugh and press another kiss to him. lower now that you know he's awake. above his cupid's bow, your own lips drawn tight with your smile. "but it's morning."

"can't be," he counters, voice thick with exhaustion. "i only just fell asleep."

you hum, distracted as you trace the wrinkles of his forehead. was that one always there? was it new? "maybe it's not wherever you were," you concede. "where were you, by the way?"

"where wasn't i?" he sighs as he rolls away, a great puff of air that cuts through the easiness of the morning, reminds you of what exactly he's likely returned from. the culmination of the mission, even the easy one it seemed to be. he was rarely ever trotted out for emissary visits, after all.

but you don't want to think about all that so you follow him as he rolls, laying yourself across his chest to keep him grounded as you rub against his far shoulder. "well you're home now and my vote's for sleeping in."

his chest rumbles beneath you, a quiet laugh you can feel more so than you can hear. he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your fingers before setting it back down in favor of reaching much lower to pull you more properly onto him. your grip shifts from his shoulder to his bicep and you pause when you feel the edge of a bandage there, worry settling low in your belly as you trace the edges of it. "you're hurt?" you demand, but you don't give him a chance to respond before sitting up and leaning across him to turn the lamp on.

it takes you a moment to make sense of what you're looking at, the bandage you'd felt before nothing more than four haphazard lines of tape holding a square of black plastic against his skin. he laughs at your confusion, thumbing the furrow between your brows away as he also sits up, pulling you onto his lap as he reassures you he's not hurt.

"what's that then?" you ask, afraid to peel the edges up and see for yourself.

he's chuckling as he does it for you, the wrap pulling away to reveal the neat black lines and bold color of a traditional tattoo, a plump little pinup in a barely-hanging-on mechanic's jumpsuit, her cartoonishly circular tits squeezed between her own arms as she leaned confidently over simplified engine block. it's good work from what you can tell. his bicep is a big canvas, the tattoo itself appropriately sized, leaving the artist enough room for minute details, smudges of brown oil accentuating your curves and a wry smile below demure lids.

still.

"you didn't," you scoff, too blown away to even know if you're actually mad or not. you don't think you are, but what if he -

what if -

"well it was either this or i get you airbrushed on the side of the blackhawk, but you are mine, and i do not want just anyone to see you like that."