#the facial fuzz is doing me in

[elmaestrostan]

Three of the most important cogs in this team

[undead-potatoes]

The most devastating part of not having a beard is knowing that if I did have one there's like a 98% chance it would be ginger

[sapsolais]

!

[pankakeperformer]

when you just trying to chill but then you remember the spooky scary societal expectations placed on you as a member of the uterus having club :(

[ratatatastic]

forsy getting bullied for his beard its a bit of a saga 😭😭😭

[supernotnatural2005]

The Hiatus Beard

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean grows a beard during your much needed R&R, and it does things to you.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SMUT!(18+ONLY), swearing, Dean's beard 😍

AN: I thought I'd release a little something before the first part of my series: The Arrangement, this Friday. Scruffy Dean/Jensen is just 🤌🏻 and does things to me. So enjoy this little one shot that got away from me 🫣

Masterlist

For as long as you’d known Dean, he’d always been a minimalist.

Whether that was with his cut-and-dry humour, his “kill first, ask questions later” attitude on a case, or his appearance. The way he dressed—a simple jeans and t-shirt combo with a flannel thrown over. And then there was his hair, short, neat, a quick run-through with some gel, and he was done.

And it had always been the same with his face. Clean-shaven, jaw sharp, lips unobscured. He had a routine. No scruff, no fuzz, just Dean as he always had been. Until now.

The moment the world stopped burning for a minute, when the fight against Michael had finally ended, Dean had agreed to take a break.

A real break.

You and him up at Rufus’s cabin, away from the bunker, away from the weight of saving everyone. Sam had all but shoved you both out the door, telling Dean to let himself breathe for once.

And maybe that was what made it happen. Because, for the first time in forever, Dean let go. He let himself sleep in. He let himself do nothing. He even let himself grow a beard.

It had started as stubble, nothing unusual, just a sign of taking a day off from shaving. But then a day turned into a week, and the neat, smooth skin you’d grown used to gave way to something rougher, wilder. A thick layer of golden-brown scruff covered his jaw, making him look different.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. It was just facial hair. And yet…

You couldn’t stop staring at him.

Dean with a beard did something to you, something primal, something that made heat coil low in your stomach every time you looked at him.

Maybe it was the contrast, the way it softened him but somehow made him look rougher all at once. Maybe it was how it made him look even more like the hunter he was, like the kind of man who could haul you over his shoulder and take what he wanted. Maybe it was because it was just so damn new.

And then there was the way he felt when he kissed you. The scratch of his beard against your lips, the roughness dragging along your skin in a way that made your breath stutter. Every kiss was different now, leaving a burn that lingered, that reminded you hours later that he’d been there. That he’d touched you. And it only made your mind wander further—how would it feel against your throat? Down your stomach? Between your legs?

The thought had haunted you for days, simmering under your skin, making it harder and harder to focus on anything else.

Whatever it was, it had you in a chokehold.

It didn’t help that Dean seemed utterly oblivious to it. He wasn’t doing it to be sexy. If anything, it was the opposite. The man had taken to walking around the cabin in old sweats and a stretched-out Led Zeppelin t-shirt, scratching at his beard like he was still getting used to it, completely unaware of what it was doing to you.

Until he noticed.

It was one night after dinner, sitting by the fire, both of you with beers in hand. Dean leaned back, stretching, and his eyes caught yours. You must have been staring—again—because his lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Alright, what gives?” His voice was low, rougher with the rasp of relaxation. “You’ve been looking at me weird for days.”

You blinked, feeling heat crawl up your neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dean chuckled, setting his beer down. “Oh, sweetheart, you definitely do.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, the sound of fingers over scruff making your stomach tighten. “It’s the beard, isn’t it?”

You swallowed. “Maybe.”

Dean’s smirk deepened. He shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he levelled you with a gaze that made your breath hitch. “You like it?”

You could have played coy. Could have brushed it off, made a joke. But screw it. You were tired of pretending.

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “I do.”

Dean’s eyes darkened just a bit, his smirk flickering into something else. Something hotter. “That so?”

You nodded, fingers tightening around your beer bottle. “Yeah.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a second, just let the weight of the moment settle. Then, slowly, he leaned in, eyes locked onto yours.

“What have you been thinking about?”

Dean’s voice was a low murmur, rough and coaxing, but there was something dangerous curled beneath it—something that sent a shiver racing down your spine. His gaze was locked onto you, sharp and unrelenting, like he was already inside your head, already picking apart every filthy thought you’d had about him.

Your breath hitched. You could lie. You could change the subject. But what was the point? He’d see through it. He always did.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, pulse hammering like a war drum in your chest. “I’ve been wondering how it would feel.”

Dean’s brows lifted slightly, intrigue flickering through the storm in his eyes. “Where?”

Your stomach clenched, heat pooling low, so heavy it made your thighs press together involuntarily. “Between my legs.”

Everything in the room shifted—thickened. The air became stifling, charged, the space between you crackling with something untamed.

For a beat, he didn’t move. He just stared, breathing slow and deep, jaw clenched tight like he was barely restraining himself. And then—

He snapped.

In an instant, Dean was on you.

His mouth crashed against yours, rough and claiming, his beard scraping deliciously against your soft skin. His kiss was brutal, messy, all tongue and teeth, like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed to taste you, to consume you.

His hands gripped at you, dragging you against him, pressing your body into the hard lines of his own. You could feel him—all of him—thick and aching beneath his jeans, grinding against the heat of your core.

A whimper spilled from your lips, and that sound—it did something to him. A guttural groan tore from his chest as he wrenched his mouth from yours, only to drag it along your jaw, your neck, his teeth scraping, his scruff burning against your skin in a way that made you tremble.

“You wanna feel it, sweetheart?” His voice was a rasp, breath hot against your throat as he nipped at your pulse, making you gasp. “Then let me give you exactly what you’ve been thinking about.”

Before you could respond, he was hauling you up into his arms like you weighed nothing, moving with purpose, raw determination burning in his gaze as he carried you to the bedroom.

Dean didn’t waste time. He laid you out on the bed, broad shoulders squared, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths as his eyes dragged over you—hungry, dark, wild.

And then, with agonising patience, he began undressing you. Deliberately.

He peeled away your top first, taking his time, letting his fingers linger on newly exposed skin before his mouth followed. Every inch of you was tasted, kissed, sucked—his beard scraping, the contrast of soft lips and rough scruff making your body writhe beneath him. He worked his way down, his mouth hot and open over your ribs, your stomach, the curve of your hips.

By the time he reached your jeans, you were a trembling mess, already lightheaded from the way he touched you, the way he took his time like he was savouring you.

But when he finally stripped you bare, something in him snapped again.

His hands slid up your legs, fingers pressing into your skin with a bruising grip, parting you for him. His breath hitched as he took you in, eyes darkening to something animalistic, something primal.

“Jesus.” His voice was low, almost reverent, but there was nothing holy in the way he looked at you.

Then he was moving, surging forward, his mouth hot and wet as he kissed up your legs—starting at your ankle, his beard scraping along your sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His hands gripped your thighs, thumbs digging in as he worked his way higher, pressing kisses, nipping at soft flesh, until—

He reached where you needed him most.

The first swipe of his tongue was slow, deliberate—a tease—but the effect was devastating. Your back arched, a breathless moan escaping you, and that sound shattered what little control he had left.

Dean growled, deep and low, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Then he dived in.

There was nothing gentle about it. He devoured you.

His tongue was relentless, flicking, curling, pressing deep as his scruff burned against the delicate skin of your thighs. The rough drag of his beard was intoxicating, every pass sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He gripped your hips hard, holding you in place, refusing to let you squirm away from the onslaught of sensation.

When your thighs clenched around his head, he groaned, the sound filthy, desperate. “Fuck, baby—give me that.” His voice was a growl, muffled against your slick heat, and then he buried himself deeper, sucking your clit into his mouth, his beard scraping in the best, most deliciously punishing way.

You shattered.

Your orgasm crashed through you, white-hot and endless, and he didn’t stop—not when you cried out, not when your fingers yanked at his hair, not when your body shook from overstimulation. He just held you tighter, kept licking, sucking, fucking you with his tongue, dragging it out until you were wrecked beneath him.

Only when you were trembling, spent, did he finally pull back, his lips glistening, his breath ragged as he gazed down at you—his work of art.

And you knew, with just that look, he was nowhere near to being done with you.

AN: I hope you guys enjoyed this one.❤️ And I can't be the only one, who's thought about this, am I right? 👀😂

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List: @bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom

[occultbooks]

Please tell me all your trans Wilson headcanons OP

oh my goodness is this.... an excuse to talk about trans wilson...? oh my goodness ok let me get my affairs in order, no pun intended. I dont know what you want specifically, but a lot of these are just thoughts about how the idea of wilson being trans ties into canon

I think being trans is where a lot of wilson's comphet comes from. not only will being with a woman make him look "normal," but also like a man, and by extension, he will be viewed as a "normal man"

he absolutely would have done the legit porn part of feral pleasures if he had had the equipment at the time. in fact, there are a lot of things he would have done if he were a cis man. but, c'est la vie

he's stealth, but told cuddy because they're besties and wilson felt like he could actually trust her, despite having known house for longer. house found out accidentally, but doesn't tell anyone because (his words) "I'm not a monster, jimmy"

he went off T in his 30s because he thought it would dampen his sex drive and save his marriage (it only worked for a little while). he didn't get back on T until around 2005, which is why he looks so twinkish and young in the first season.

he was in girl scouts as a kid. yes, this is me projecting.

house did his phalloplasty and wilson still does not know how he let that happen. both of them, however, are happy with the result.

before top surgery, he used to fall asleep with his binder on all the time. its a miracle his ribs are intact.

he gets dysphoric about random shit. his paranoid ass looks in the mirror and goes "do you think my teeth are too feminine?" and it gives house a headache

the mcgill sweater was absolutely his chest dysphoria sweater

he used to go on trans internet forums and soak up all the insane information about "how to pass," like shaving peach fuzz, or not eating chocolate because there's too much estrogen in it, or standing in a superhero pose, and he did it, even though he knew it wasn't scientifically sound. again, I am projecting

taub is the only other person who knows because wilson approached him about facial masculinization surgery. he opted not to get it because the way taub said "no offense, but why do you need that?" made him feel like it probably wasn't necessary

he shaves his face for professionalism reasons, but he's actually a very hairy man. being hairy is important to him, mostly because its another arbitrary thing that makes him a "normal man," but also because he knows that people (women and house) find it attractive.

his family is not super duper understanding, but they try their best. his mom beats herself up because she thinks he didn't have a strong enough female role model in his life. they're trying.

that's all I can think of right now. I hope this is sufficient :3

[skunkes]

have any of ur ocs ever grown their facial hair out? if they did, what would it look like?

i dont think talon is capable of growing out full facial hair, he plucks whatever grows in but i think he could have one of those wispy mustaches + a tiny bit of chin fuzz maybe? Al's dad has a full mustache and beard, which is why I never draw him bc i suck at beards. I do want to play with al sometimes growing out his mustache though for character reasons, because I am a mustache appreciator, and because lars and the real girl is a recent new favorite movie of mine

alongside this i now often draw both of them with light 5 o clock shadow (?) most of the time, talon on upper lip and al all around where he can grow hair, its like a precursor for me finally diving into learning how to draw it...maybe soon

[vampiretendencies]

shy!fem!reader helping jj shave came to mind today, so here’s this brain rot. it’s all i can manage rn, so i gave this like zero effort. requests are open.

cw; fluff, lower case intended

he’s gazing down at you like you invented the stars and the night sky. delicately gliding a sharp razor to his shaving cream-clad jawline, tongue poking outwardly past your bottom lip in concentration. he’d stayed firm in the idea that he couldn’t reach a certain spot, but really it was an excuse to be in the position he is now.

sat atop the bathroom counter, his pretty girl encapsulated between his legs, whilst both his hands strum at the small of your back. smoothing over the skin in rhythmic and medolic patterns, all to assure you that what you were doing was fine and that you weren’t going to hurt him.

he trusted you.

“don’t concentrate so hard baby, s’just peach fuzz.”

your cheeks tainted cherry red, knowing full well he was toying and picking fun at you. but still you couldn’t help it, you were timid tenfold in the fact that you’d fuck this up at any given moment, anxious from jj’s fiery touch against your skin. but even still you didn’t respond, overthinking what he just said and letting it consume you.

“only fucking with you, you’re doing prefect, pretty girl.”

you clear your throat, the sentence that left from his lips erupted inside of you rapidly causing many heartfelt butterflies to erupt like clockwork. you lower your hands, dipping the razor under the faucet, on the verge of shaving the remaining bits of facial hair. until he grabs your wrist, stopping you from shaving the spot thus far.

“you don’t have to take me so seriously …” his raspy voice reminded you, chuckling all at once. you awkwardly peered at the floor that peeked through past jj’s thighs. praying a miracle would whisk you away from this seemingly horrid and cumbersome encounter. and still you choose not to answer, the silence was enough to speak for itself. his large hands travel from the small of your back to cup your cheeks. thumbing over your cheek bones, encouraging you to look at him.

and you do, because how could you resist such a lingering, igniting touch.

there was something so sensational and satisfying about eye contact to jj, especially coming from you, someone that was so distantly shy to begin with but he’d made it his own personal agenda to have you fawning after him.

having a reserved appetite for solely him.

eyes meeting eyes, it seems as though he’s going to slump backward into the bathroom mirror at how doll like your features are painted. God, he wanted to squish your cheeks with the palms of his hands. lips pursing outward, forming a pout that is making jj unable to contain himself.

“oh … uh-okay … i won’t j.” his stomach churns longingly at the harmony of your effortlessly orchestrated voice.

“don’t get all shy on me baby.”

you were melting past his fingertips, eyelashes kissing the tops of your cheeks. and he feels like he’s holding his future in his hands, you that is. gentle and fragile with the one who has his heart. a quirk of his mouth, giving you a mischievous grin. his plump lips on your jaw, your neck, smearing the shaving cream all over you, blonde locks tickling as they followed.

[dfortrafalgar]

Watching You In The Morning

Inspired by “Watching You In The Morning” by Waltzin

Law x Fem Reader

Warnings: fluff, kinda poetic? more narrative study than plot, more fluff

Also posted on AO3

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The rise and fall of your chest was a perfect metronome, as if you were dancing along to the patter of raindrops as they fell against the submersible’s porthole.  In your deep, whimsical slumber, you would never even know of the romantic waltz your very presence exuded upon the man in the bed next to you.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Slow, methodical.  His tattooed fingers dusted fleetingly across the skin of your neck, reaching out to you with reserve, with apprehension, with want.  He felt himself smile, chapped lips tugging ever so slightly at his cheeks at the sight of your serenity, lost in the haze of your dreams.  You were truly beautiful.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He could watch your breathing forever.  He could die at the crevice of your chest, just to know that you were still inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling.  To know that you were alive, that your flesh was warm with your blood, that your nerves could feel his hands against your skin, was plenty for him.  He forever worshiped the ground you walked on, relishing in your every moment.  Every word you spoke, every blink of your eyes, curve of your smile, every time your perfect hand fit snugly into his like a statue carved from the finest marble.

His calloused fingers traced invisible lines up your neck, towards your jaw, barely touching you enough to feel the slight fuzz of your natural facial hair.  He ghosted across your dimpled skin, absorbing the heat you radiated, memorizing every cell he could touch.  His eyes darted toward your lips, parted ever so slightly to breathe.

In.

Out.

When his slate-gray eyes looked back up toward yours, you were also looking back at him.  You blinked in slow motion, eyes heavy with the waning of your slumber.  You grinned at him, a sight that made the cold man’s heart do pierrouets, fluttering below his ribcage.  Any more unbridled affection towards him would make his chest rip open in a flood of snow-white doves.

With exhaustion on your tongue, voice crackling without being used, you spoke.  “Were you watching me?”

His fingers retraced their steps along your skin, landing at your collarbones where he mimicked the line of your bone.  “How could I not?”

You laughed.  A sound so bright, so warm, almost too warm.  A sound that made his body lighter, his hair stand on end.  A sound that filled his senses with yellow and violet hues, that smelled like peaches and lavender, that engulfed him in a sweet embrace of a hearth’s heat.  Your laugh made the walls he had spent a decade building up crumble with vigor, chips of glass falling to the ground and shattering into irreparable pieces.

Pieces that he was starting to think did not need to be repaired.

He adjusted his body with the motion of you shuffling closer to him, nestling yourself perfectly in the crevice of his shoulder, his arms around your body, secure and safe.  He smelled of cedar and ethanol, a faint tinge of gasoline and the essence of sugar.  You melted like butter in his hold, paralyzed in his arms, a willing prisoner of his presence.  You felt his chest rise and fall with his shallow breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Your own air tickled the skin of his breast, tiny, gentle feathers in a spring breeze.  Your fingers crawled along his side before looping your arm under his and pulling your body ever closer.  Oh how you wished you could break the universe for just one moment, to part his atoms and truly become one with him.  Even just a zeptosecond would be enough.

“If you keep thinking this hard, you might blow a fuse.”  His low voice rumbled against your head.

“How did you know?” you responded, voice light and airy, lovestruck and dumb.

He released a chuckle from his throat.  “I just had a feeling.”

Silence once again fell over the two of you.  Save for the continuous rain that fell, a faded noise in the backdrop of the aura he surrounded you with.  Washing away all worries, all fears.

“Can we stay like this forever?”

The question surprised you.  It wasn’t like him to ask such silly, menial queries.  Ever the pessimist, ever the analytical scientist.  He lived for the truth of the world and the facts of life.  He had you for the optimism and the joy for life that he lacked, a perfect balance.  The Yang to his Yin.

You simply hummed.  Tilting your head up to meet his eyes, you felt your blood rush to your face like a flame.  “Forever.”

His arms squeezed you once, then twice.  He sighed, melancholy.  The rain continued to fall, the vessel continued to sway monotonously on the surface of the vast, open ocean, but you stayed anchored to his bed, to his sheets, in his unmoving arms.

He smiled again.  “Thank you.”

No response was followed, and no response was needed.  Your breaths fanning against his skin were more than enough.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

[mydaddywiki]

Robert Prosky

Physique: Average/Chubby Build Height: 5’ 10½" (1.79 m)

Robert Prosky (born Robert Joseph Porzuczek, December 13, 1930 – December 8, 2008; aged 77) was an American actor. He became a well-known supporting actor in the 1980s with his roles in Thief, Christine, The Natural, and Broadcast News. Prosky’s other notable movies include Gremlins 2: The New Batch, Hoffa, Mrs. Doubtfire, Last Action Hero, Miracle on 34th Street, Dead Man Walking and Mad City. His most notable TV role was of Sgt. Stan Jablonski on the TV police drama Hill Street Blues.

A craggy-faced, heavyset character actor, Prosky was the first guy I like with a beard. Sounds silly to say now, but he really rocked that beard in Mrs. Doubtfire that I couldn’t help but like him. Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck the shit out of him without the beard. It just goes to show what some facial fuzz can do for a man. He was best suited to playing salt-of-the-earth characters, sometimes with a mischievous or slightly sinister edge that allow him to work that beard of his.

A native of Philadelphia, Prosky studied at the American Theatre Wing, later graduating from Temple University. He performed at Old Academy Players, a small theater in the East Falls section of Philadelphia, adjacent to Manayunk. He also served in the U.S. Air Force during the Korean War. Prosky spent 23 seasons as a resident actor with the Arena Stage Theater in Washington, DC before making his film debut as an initially ingratiating gangster in Michael Mann's Thief. He came to prominence as the endearing Sgt. Jablonski on Hill Street Blues. Prosky also became a familiar TV face in a succession of TV movies, pilots, and guest spots.

Prosky died in 2008 from complications of heart surgery. He was survived by his wife of forty-eight years, Ida Prosky, and three sons, Stefan Prosky, John Prosky and Andrew Prosky, the latter two being actors as well.

RECOMMENDATIONS: Dead Man Walking (1995) Mrs. Doubtfire (1993) Hill Street Blues (TV Series 1984–1987) Broadcast News (1987) Thief (1981)

[sorbeau]

what are your like essentials/you have to put in accessories or traits for drawing the bad kids?

BOY OH BOY DO I HAVE A LIST FOR YOU PAL

i have so many designs for these guys but there are certain cornerstones that MUST be upheld.

for Adaine, i love giving her huge round glasses, more often than not with some cute glasses chains or dangly accessories with them. im my heart she's also very tall and lanky, perfect awkward teen girl build. i like to keep her facian features very oval shaped, a sharp chin with a rounded jawline and a straight and thin nose.

for Kristen, I like to make her hair curly and cover her in freckles. she was the chosen of helio!!! she's kissed by the sun!!!! she's always looking sunburnt and tan in my heart. I also love making her rather stocky, just a stout girl with a big smile. i like to give her very rounded and robust facial features, chubby cheeks, a big button nose, and very expressive eyes.

for Fabian, his design is the one that changes the most imo. i could put him in one million different hairstyles and one million different outfits. i think his cornerstone design aspect that cements him as Fabian is his eternal smirk and general prettyboy aura. also the eyepatch is a pretty big tell. i like to give him sharp rectangular features, a strong jawline, defined cheekbones, and a straight nose, occasionally dropping in some cheeky dimples.

for Gorgug, i really like to give him a longer haircut, as well as part his bangs to sort of cover one eye. he's very rectangular to me and has a very long but toned build. i like to keep his face very rectanguler but rounded and soft, a square jaw and defined cheekbones, but soft brows and eyes with a large downturned nose.

for Fig, her design is also one that changes a lot, but that in and of itself is a huge part of her character!!! she's spontaneous and rebellious, and I always make sure her design reflects that. her hairstyle hats lots of subtle changes, but i like to stick to alternative microbangs a lot and making her horns curve inwards slightly. a little demon tail is optional for her, but always fun. i like to give her very heart shaped features, with a pointed chin and round defines cheeks, as well as a pointed button nose and expressive but sharp eyes.

for Riz, i really like to lean into the feral/animalistic side of goblins that we see in fh. sharp teeth, big sharp catlike eyes, and large expressive ears. im also a huge fab of giving him digitigrade legs and paws and a fuzzy tail. in my heart he's sharp and scratchy and covered in fuzz. i like to keep his face sharp but round and cute, he's got round cheeks but a sharp jawline, a small downturned nose, and wild expressive eyebrows.

[pinkpigtailsprincess]

How to Dermaplain Properly *࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ🎀

Hi! Hi! 🎀, Welcome 2 My informational guide on how 2 dermaplain properly bc ik some people either want to try it but don’t know how or have tried it and didn’t do it correctly bc believe me i tried it and i did it completely wrong so im here 2 make sure you don’t make the same mistakes i have!! anyways

❤︎ ໋𓈒 What is Dermaplaining??

Dermaplaning is a cosmetic treatment in which dead skin cells and peach fuzz are scraped off with a scalpel by a plastic surgeon, dermatologist, or cosmetologist. - A random definition i got off the interweb!!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Cool!! Now how do i Dermaplain??

…So What ur gonna do is first get ur materials you’ll need

- a REAL Dermaplaing Razor

i see a-lot of people accidentally using eyebrow razors but please make sure you look for an actual dermaplaining razor bc eyebrow razor tend to have uneven blades and that can irritate the skin!!

- Facial Oil,Aquaphor,Vaseline,Coco Butter or anything that falls under this category!

- Cleanser

- something to put the discarded hair on!

- And Ofc ur Face!!

Step 1; Clean Ur Face!!

Step 2; Take ur facial oil,vaseline etc. and put it all over ur face or just on the areas you wanna focus on to give ur blade something to slide on and easier put up hair and dirt don’t be shy but also don’t put too much!! and let it sir for about 1 minute DONT RUB IT IN

Step 3; Now that its set take ur blade in one hand and ur other hand and pull ur face up just near where ur hair starts and GENTLY!!! shave downwards at a 45 degree angle and do it in gentle short strokes ur cannot shave ur face like how you shave ur body!! and one ur finished a stroke wipe the hair and grime on a paper towel and repeat be careful and be gentle so you don’t cut ur face

Step 4; When ur finished clean ur blade and put back into the safety case! and gently moisturze ur face

and UR DONE!! 🎀 i hope this helped some of yall bye 4 noww luv you!! 🎀☀️

[jupiterswasphouse]

WASP REVIEW - WASPS (GROUNDED)

[Image IDs: A screenshot and a render of the wasps from Grounded /End IDs.]

Now this is a game I've been interested in for a while, one that has a rather large and lively cast of bugs throughout it, all viewed from an up close perspective (although one that is often detrimental to the player character)! This, of course, includes plenty of wasps, specifically for the purposes of this review, those directly referred to as Wasps, including the Drones and Queen. Now, some of you who have read these reviews before may be wondering "Ms. Jupiter, doesn't this game also have bees? You usually cover those too, if they're present!", and that is true! I will be covering the bees as well, however, I will be doing so at a later date, alongside the ants! Unfortunately I've neglected ants for some time now (despite also being, taxonomically speaking, wasps, as Formicidae evolved directly from Vespoidea), due to not knowing as much about this subset of species. I'm still learning, but excited to look into them more, so be sure to tune in later for the Grounded revisit!

For the time being, lets start this review the same way we always do, taking a look at their appearance. It's clear to me that the face of this wasp is based directly on the yellowjacket species Vespula germanica, with the distinctive trio of black spots on its clypeus (the broad front sclerite plate above the mandible). The mesosoma markings seem to support this theory, although the metasoma makes things a bit less clear. One could argue those markings do bear some resemblance to the spots on V. germanica as well, although they're far from the same.

[Image Sources: Wikimedia Commons, Entomart, and Wikimedia Commons, no further source information provided | Image IDs: A photo of the face of a Vespula germanica yellowjacket, followed by a screenshot of a dead Wasp in Grounded, followed after that by another image of Vespula germanica, this one in front of a pure white background /End IDs.]

The legs should also have a black marking around the coxa, trochanter, and femur if this is the case. Speaking of the legs, they're mostly accurate, but there should be one more short tarsal segment than there is. The antennae are close as well, but should have more segmentation on the flagellum than they do here. Furthermore, the eyes aren't quite the right shape, and they should be black, rather than the oddly glowing red they are in this game. The presence of ocelli, ie simple eyes, is unclear. Lastly, it's missing some distinct yellowjacket fuzz! Overall, though, I feel like this is close enough to correct! Certainly much closer than last week's example, that's for sure.

Although, these are just the standard Wasps! There's also, for one, the Wasp Queen!

[Image IDs: Two screenshots of the Wasp Queen from Grounded /End IDs.]

It's mostly the same exact story here, except for a few points. Notably, I can see the ocelli on top of the head more clearly on this model, and the initial leg segments have all the black markings they should now! The facial markings, though, while admittedly closer to a real Vespula germanica queen's markings than to a worker's, aren't quite right, with its asymmetrical and oddly placed spots. On top of that, the Queen, for whatever reason, has antennae with a yellow scape and pedicel but black flagellum, when the entire antenna should be black.

[Image Source: NatureSpot, David Nichols | Image ID: A photo of a Vespula germanica yellowjacket, more than likely a queen, on the end of a green-leafed plant /End ID.]

Lastly, we have the Wasp Drones, and, realistically, these guys should look very similar to their sisters, just a bit smaller than the queen and bigger than the workers, and with longer antennae. But, strangely, these guys don't seem to have longer antennae at all, but do have different coloration, with red in place of black, as well as yellow tips on their flagella, on top of having this sort of odd bend in them as well. It honestly brings to mind the mental image of a yellowjacket mixed with an executioner wasp (Polistes carnifex).

[Image Sources: iNaturalist, Eric van drn Berghe, and DeviantArt, Eldar Zakirov | Image IDs: A screenshot of a Wasp Drone from Grounded, followed by two photos, one of a Vespula germanica yellowjacket drone on a small branch, and the other of a Polistes carnifex paper wasp on a wooden board /End IDs.]

I think that's all that can really be said in regards to that, however, so let's now discuss their nesting behaviors, and honestly, it's a little bit strange. There appears to be one main nest, within which the Wasp Queen resides and can be summoned to fight, looking about like a standard yellowjacket nest (enclosed structure, vaguely teardrop shaped), oddly found inside of an old bin. But, there are also much smaller nests found throughout the yard, in a more paper wasp type configuration (open structure, umbrella shaped). This would be entirely normal, if they belonged to different species, of different subfamilies or at different stages of construction, but they don't, and, in fact, every small nest comes with only two Workers and one Drone, with no additional Queens to be found, seemingly all under one collective hive.

[Image Sources: Ohio State University, Joe Boggs, and Flickr, Bob Peterson | Image IDs: A screenshot of the main nest in Grounded, followed by a render of a small nest. These are then further followed by photos of a nest of Baldfaced Hornets, which are actually a type of yellowjacket, and a nest of paper wasps, species Polistes major, subspecies major /End IDs.]

The interior of the main nest is also a little strange, but it's not too far off, appearing to have proper layers of cells on the inside. The nests themselves seem ok, though notably different from each other, but this nesting behavior is odd no matter how you slice it. I've heard of multiple queens/foundresses working together under one hive in some Vespidae/Polistinae species (Polistes fuscatus, Polistes dominula, Parachartergus colobopterus, and potentially others), but not one queen ruling over multiple nests simultaneously.

With regards to their behavior outside of nesting, they seem to be notably more aggressive than the real thing would be towards something as small as the player character (which they're not trying to hunt), at least comparatively to how I've observed wild Vespids to be. I've witnessed various different creatures pass by Vespid nests at relatively close distance with no issue. Speaking of their aggression, each variant of these wasps has its own offensive and defensive behaviors as well!

The standard worker Wasps have the sting and bite you would expect, yellowjackets being known for both while defending and hunting, but they also have... A venom shot projectile. It's odd just how common this is to see in video game wasps! It's an interesting attack, yes, but it's also a notably inaccurate thing, only being an ability found in a select few ants, as mentioned in certain reviews. I do have to mention that there is one alleged incident of an Asian giant hornet spraying venom into someone's eye, but given this appears to be an isolated incident with not a lot of research done regarding it, I'm more inclined to believe this was an instance of incidental venom discharge from an "angry" (defensive) wasp.

When it comes to the Wasp Drones, they have two abilities themselves. One of these is the aforementioned projectile, which is even more odd for them, as male wasps (the drones) do not have venom due to not possessing stingers. The other ability, however, is a scream that applies beneficial status effects to them and their wasps. The ability that they and their sisters have to create somewhat complex vocalizations is odd, as most noise-making wasps have simple stridulating chirps, and these species do not include yellowjackets! Side note, their loot table also includes Wasp Paper, which is something that drones would not typically be out collecting.

Finally, the Wasp Queen mostly has similar attacks, those being stings and projectiles, with a scream that summons worker Wasps and Wasp Drones (usually, in the real world, they'd be summoned to attack with pheromones or just with the fact an invader is in their nest at all). Although she does have a couple more things that can deal damage to the player, the first being landing on the player, and the second being POISON BOMBS, FOR SOME REASON. I don't think I need to tell you guys this, but yellowjackets and other wasps are not capable of producing noxious projectile explosives in the real world.

Now, for the first time in this series of reviews, we get to talk about attack weaknesses! and, strangely enough, these wasps are resistant against Chopping, Stabbing, Slashing, Explosive, and Spicy attacks, but are weak against Salt of all things? I can't speak for real world yellowjackets' ability to take proportionally small explosions and sharp weapons, but insects in general are known for having an extreme distaste for capsaicin. As for salt... I mean come on, they're not snails, it may be harmful if it got into an open wound but they still need salt to live, and are in fact often attracted to sources of salt.

In conclusion, they have quite a few features that are fairly accurate! But they made quite a few decisions that baffle me as someone who takes a loving interest in these creatures. Visually, their markings can be notably off but their body structure is almost entirely accurate, meanwhile their behaviors often quite odd. So, my rating for these wasps would have to be...

-

Overall: 6/10

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Leave your wasp review suggestion in the replies, tags, or askbox!

[bambiraptor9blog]

Excerpt-'It's Even More Complicated'-Ch 3

Shadow finally managed to move past the city center as dawn began to break. He found a quiet park and temple area, the cherry blossom trees virtually devoid of their delicate pink blooms. He sighed in relief, standing by the pagoda temple entrance, pleased with how orderly and calm everything was. One cherry blossom fell to the manicured grass as Amy’s Ring appeared in the middle of the temple grounds with a gravity warping whoosh. The windchimes tinkled and the wind blew past the trees with a soft whistle.

Great. There goes any tranquility I hoped for, he thought, irritated again. His migraine from the overstimulating lights and sounds of Tokyo city had just started to subside, and it raged back in full force as Amy stepped into view.

More than his head throbbing, his heart began to pick up the pace. Shadow immediately moved to stand in a ready stance—Maddie’s Warrior II—and bunched his hands into fists in a defensive posture. He grimaced, then felt his crimson eyes dilate on studying the soft pink Hedgehog that quietly entered the temple with solemn reverence, her hammer held on her shoulder like a sleeping child.

“Whoa—this place is beautiful,” she half-whispered, her emerald eyes dilated as well. She took in the dawn light casting the entire temple in a pink and gold wash, and then, she let out a soft gasp at Shadow. Oh—oh wow. He’s—he’s amazing! The orange light glimmered off his red tipped quills, his black quilled form taught with strong muscles. His white chest puff rose and fell in a rapid movement as he struggled to breathe on seeing Amy, and she felt much the same on studying this fierce and handsome Hedgehog, his tan facial fuzz burning as crimson as his eyes.

There’s—another—Hedgehog? was all Shadow could think. She—I think she? She’s—mesmerizing. I--! He saw her red and white tunic hiding her round, curvy body, hinting at a wider chest than what she wrapped beneath, and his eyes dropped down to her tight black leggings and thigh high red and white Doc Martens. His eyes scanned up to her face—her wide green eyes aglow in the morning light, reflecting like the koi ponds, calm yet brewing something deep and brutal beneath. There is a hidden darkness in her eyes, a deep sadness, he thought, his heart pounding so hard it whooshed in his ears. Her pink quills perfectly matched the cherry blossoms and the sunrise, and Shadow felt his resolve to fight her melt for a split second before noticing the massive hammer on her shoulder. She carries heavy thoughts, heavy feelings, like the hammer she wields. In her…in her I see…Maria…and…myself?

Amy stopped her approach, and suddenly set down her hammer. She placed her hands together in a prayer pose, and bowed slightly. Shadow noticed her struggle to move, and decided her upper body was her weak point.

Shadow blinked, confused. “Why—why do you bow to me?” he gritted his teeth. He kept up his ready stance, watching her cautiously.

“We are in a holy place,” Amy replied gently. She smiled slightly, and Shadow felt something twinge between his legs and blushed furiously. “It’s customary to bow to someone before you challenge them.”

“Oh,” Shadow moved to match her pose. He struggled to quell his shaking hands as he put them together, frustrated—my body betrays me. Damnit! And bowed, taking in deep breaths to push away the attraction he felt in the instant she arrived.

“Where is your weapon?” Amy asked softly, her voice turning sultry on ‘weapon,’ and Shadow really started to struggle to maintain focus as they circled one another slowly.

“I am one,” Shadow growled in response, a smirk spreading across his face despite himself.

“Oh?” Amy winked, and Shadow nearly tripped over his own feet. He steadied his pace, looking up at her again. Their eyes locked now, movements timed to one another better. “Don’t tell me you bite.”

“Tch,” Shadow closed in on her, their breathing louder now that they were inches away from one another. “I don’t bite unless I’ve subdued my prey. And you feel more like an equal, so let’s make this a fair fight.”

“Mmh!” Amy squealed and Shadow swore he felt his lower body throb in ways only Sonic could encourage. Oh God, he thought, head spinning, if she sounds like that when we fight, I might have to stop to…adjust…and…! “Well, Knight of Swords. I don’t mind seeing where this goes, and if you do bite, know I am one to bite back!”

“We’ll see,” Shadow smiled...

Read the rest of the chapter on AO3!

Read the story so far on AO3 here!

Music that inspired this chapter:

Title-"I'm Here"-Sonic Frontiers

Amy x Shadow-"Vandalize"-Sonic Frontiers

[ghostgirl-22]

Hear me out. Patrick eats out art and comes untouched.

erm… yeah okayyy its been awhile…lets do rimming again <33

CW: 18+, NSFW, EXPLICIT, mild feminization and rimming like it says on the tin, obviously if this grosses you out, or you’re a minor don’t read.

—-

It’s a normal night at first. Patrick checking on his laptop, checking his tour schedule. Arts just out of the bath, he’s swanning around in only his towel, vaguely distracting but nothing Patrick hasn’t seen before. 

 He’s taking his time getting ready to go out to a karaoke birthday party. Art’s half heartedly trying to convince Patrick to come but Patrick doesn’t love karaoke to start with, he can’t really sing and these are Art’s roommates’ friends, a whole theater crowd and honestly he’s heard Art’s roommate sing defying gravity in the shower more than enough to last him a lifetime. 

Art isn’t big on karaoke or his roommates singing either, but he’s expecting some pretty girl he’s been flirting with to show up. He’s shaved, even though he can barely grow facial hair. He’s putting product in his hair. Picking out the perfect outfit. It’s normal.

Well until he gets distracted. He crawls onto the other end of the bed to grab the remote and to turn up an episode of the office. 

Normal except he settles on the bed. Back arched, his towel riding up, barely covering him anymore. Patrick can’t help himself. all the blood in his head rushes immediately to his dick. He stares and stares at the swell of his bottom, the heft of his balls as Art giggles, clueless and distracted by the television. Oblivious to the fact that he’s basically on fucking display. 

Patrick’s fucked him once. Once on his last visit. Took him out to a gay club in San Francisco because his gay roommate made him curious. He got overstimulated to the point where they ended up having sex. A mess of awkward homoerotic feelings and emotions. Then more than 2000 miles of separation and ignoring it when Patrick flew to New York for a tournament. 

They haven’t really talked about it. It’s his first night staying in Art’s dorm since he’s been back at Stanford and with Tashi between them they’ve only skirted around it. But now Art is on display.

Patrick shuts his laptop and sits up on the bed. Something in him cracking a little. Something in him going a little sideways, a little fucked up. He gets behind Art and presses the towel up so he can see it all. 

Art looks behind him, “Patrick— I’m— what are you—“ 

He’s not able to find the question because Patrick is suddenly rubbing him, kneading his cheeks, spreading them. Exposing the soft little peach colored pucker at the center. Coated in a bit of peach fuzz, waiting to be tasted. His mouth feels so wet already. 

“Fuck I need to kiss you,” he mutters as he leans over and licks a stripe down the center. 

Art gasps. “no, no, no you can’t…you cant do that…you…” he starts but Patrick’s not wasting much time. He’s got him spread open, kissing him already. So Art ends his whole protest by falling into a helpless moan. His hips starting to move. His skins all soft, tastes like minty soap, he’s too clean Patrick can barely taste the part of him that’s him.

”no please…Patrick you’re… this is bad…” he’s whining, but all of it is pitched too high. And Jesus Christ he got hard really, really fast. He’s trying to crawl away but Patrick grips him, drags him back roughly so he can finish his meal. 

“Mm stay still I need to taste it… you can’t just fucking put it in front of me and expect me not to taste it.” He says, staring at it, he feels so hungry. Starved. 

“Patrick…” Art whines. “Oh Patrick…fuck.” He cuts himself off with another moan. 

Patrick kisses him slowly, tounge slipping in and out and around and around and around. Spelling his own name over and over. First and last. Sometimes middle. Art’s legs begin to quiver, his moaning gets louder. 

“Patrick its so bad…it’s dirty… it’s wrong… Patrick I need…” 

Saying his name over and over and Patrick’s aching for it.  

As bad as he claims it is, he’s starting to push back, riding Patrick’s tounge, his face. His hole twitching, clenching, swelling. Patrick’s got spit all on his cheeks because of it, all down his chin. His cock is so heavy, he can feel his heart pounding through it. He pushes his fingers inside between kisses and Art is riding that too. “Tastes so fucking good.” Patrick gasps. “Gonna need to fuck you when I’m finished. Oh shit. You’re taking it so fucking well.”

As he comes up for air and he’s vaguely aware of Art, ass up, sucking on his fingers, the flush on his face as he moans incoherently around them. His balls drawn up tight, his hips thrusting helplessly. Such a good little slut. Spread open wide and exposed for Patrick’s mouth, for his fingers for anything else Patrick feels like putting inside. Can’t help but to ride the pleasure. 

“You know how good you look right now? How fucking delicious your cunt tastes? Need kiss you every fucking day, give you filthy kisses that make you blush, because you like it so much,” Patrick groans, licking into him again. Art makes this delicious keening noise. The kissing getting obscene, Patrick can hear himself, wet and sloppy, and Art is shuddering with every touch. He’s too loud now, trying and failing to muffle himself in the pillow and suddenly he’s coming wet all over the sheets beneath him. A soft pitter patter as it spills everywhere. He’s breathless, chest heaving, still whining. 

It’s so fucking hot. Patrick barely has to move his hand to unzip his pants. Just the movement of the fabric ghosting along his cock and he’s unloading quite suddenly into his boxers, tugs them down to finish nearly untouched all over Arts ass. “Holy fuck,” he breathes, slowly coming back to himself and falling down onto the bed, next to him. 

Art curls up approximating fetal position, his towel still pushed up. He’s still making soft little sounds. His skin all splotchy, his fingers all wet.

“Mm,” Patrick takes a deep breath and wipes his mouth on the back of his wrist. “You okay?”

“Mmhm,” he’s still pitched too high. “Um… I made a mess.”

“Yeah,” Patrick sighs. “Me too.”

Art rubs him through his boxers. “That was really fucking dirty,” he whispers.

“Oopsie,” Patrick smiles. 

Art bites his lip and squirms. “Shit my roommates gonna be back from class soon. And I— I’m—I’m not even a little bit ready.”

“So get ready… but don’t wash it off.” Patrick says softly, rubbing some of his semen into Arts upper thigh. “I want you to spend all night feeling me, and then tonight I wanna  fuck you after your roommate falls asleep. Hows that sound? Is it okay?”

Art takes a shaky breath, he dips his finger tips into a small puddle of Patrick’s come and tastes it. “Mm…It’s good,” he whispers.