#web design items

[kinerxy]

Redid the index of my site with a silly dungeon themed menu :D

[gertritude-art]

sometimes when you're not a great programmer and everyone looks at you and goes "i don't know... that's scary" when you want to do something in ren'py you have to get creative and by creative i mean code that would make an actual programmer get mad at you

[kitmcintireart]

🎉🎉SHOP DROP MAY 2025🎉🎉

I've just revamped my entire crochet shop to include more products, better photos, and even a mother's day sale!

Head over now to check it out: https://kitscornercrafts.wordpress.com/crochet-shop/

[happywebdesign]

SOUP

[scavhunt]

Yo, how many of UChicago's Identity Standards can you break in a single uchicago.edu web page? [12 points]

—Item 166, Scav 2016

[girasois]

words for users !

ideias de palavras aleatórias para ajudar você a criar seu próprio user;

random ideas of words to help you to create your own user.

core -> aesthetic core

vlog -> daily videos

logs -> daily facts

mp3 -> audio file format

m4p -> apple audio file format

mp4 -> video file format

txt -> text format

jpeg -> image file format

jpg -> image file format

png -> image file format

gif -> animated file format

raw -> uncompressed file format

zip -> compressed archive file format

rar -> compressed archive file format

web -> internet file format

doc -> document file

pdf -> document file

vinyl -> phonograph record

film -> motion picture; photography

user -> person who utilizes a computer or network service

i2 -> "keeping it real"

self -> a person's essential being

itself -> a person's essential being

priv -> private

luv -> love's short form

tale -> a fictitious or true narrative or story

archive -> to place or store (something) in an archive

list -> connected items

tier -> a type of hierarchy

talk -> speak in order to express something

chat -> to have a conversation

post -> to announce or publish something

zone -> a subject to particular restrictions

vie -> life in french

tie -> to form a knot or bow in

on/online -> connected to a network

byte -> a group of binary digits 

bits -> a small piece, part, or quantity of something

ram -> hardware in a computing device

8bit -> computer term used to designate either color depth

pixel -> a minute area of illumination on a display screen

data -> things known or assumed as facts

series -> a number of things, events, or people of a similar kind

village -> a self-contained community within a town or city

lab -> a laboratory

lady -> a woman

miss -> a form of address to a woman

mister -> a form of address to a man

error -> something not found

art -> the various branches of creative activity

petit -> small in french

poet -> a person possessing special powers of imagination or expression

thing -> an object without a specific name

stuff -> a vague reference to additional things

vogue -> the prevailing fashion or style at a particular time

tv -> taylor's version and/or television as a system or form of media

media -> the main means of mass communication

topia -> an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect

saur -> forming names of extinct reptiles such as dinosaurs

tune -> a melody, one that characterizes a particular piece of music

deun -> melody in deutsch

off/offline -> disconnected from the Internet

gloss -> shine or luster on a smooth surface

fae -> a fairy, in modern fantasy fiction

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → SMUT!! 18+, language, lingerie?

Summary → Peter buys something special for you as valentine's day gift.

Peter had been thinking about Valentine’s Day for weeks now. Every year, he tried to find something meaningful, something that showed how much he loved you. Last year, a few handwritten letters that took him hours to finish. The year before that, it was a framed picture of the two of you at Coney Island, where he’d first told you he loved you. But this year, he wanted something special. He wanted to make you feel special.

So, after finishing patrol early, he headed to the mall. He already had something in mind. He directly went into the jewellery store. The moment his eyes landed on the pendant, he knew it was perfect: a delicate silver chain with a spider web pendant, simple but elegant, and undeniably you. The web design felt personal, a nod to his double life as Spider-Man, but subtle enough that it wasn’t obvious to anyone else. He could already imagine how it would glint softly around your neck.

As Peter walked out of the jewelry store, satisfied with his choice, something in the corner of his eye made him pause. He blinked and turned his head.

There, in the display window of a lingerie store, was a mannequin wearing a red and black babydoll lingerie set. The colors caught him off guard—his colors. His Spider-Man suit colors. Red and black, with ribbon bow in the front, lace trim and delicate satin that shimmered under the soft lights. Peter could almost see you wearing it, the way the fabric would cling to your body, how it would look on you...

He stopped walking, staring at the display like he was hypnotized. What was he thinking? Lingerie? For you? It wasn’t like you’d never worn it before—you had, and you’d surprised him a few times too—but he’d never thought about buying something like this for you himself. It was always something you did, not him.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously, glancing around the crowded mall like someone might catch him committing a crime. “What am I doing?” He muttered under his breath, but even as he said it, he found himself inching closer to the store window. The thought of you in that lingerie, his colors, was stuck in his mind now. A heat crept up his neck, and before he knew it, his feet had carried him to the entrance of the store.

He hesitated at the doorway, inhaling the floral scent of lavender that wafted through the air. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the shop was much quieter and more peaceful than the bustling mall. Delicate lace, satin, and silk in various shades filled the racks, and Peter suddenly felt way out of his depth.

“Okay, I can do this,” he whispered to himself, forcing his feet to move inside.

As he stood awkwardly in the middle of the store, his eyes darting from one rack to the next, a cheerful voice startled him.

“Can I help you with something, sir?”

Peter whipped his head around, caught off guard. A sales assistant, maybe a few years older than him, stood with a friendly smile, holding a few items she was arranging on a nearby display. Peter felt his face flush.

“Uh, yeah… I, um, was just looking at the, uh…” He pointed vaguely towards the window display. “The red and black set over there.”

The assistant followed his gaze and nodded knowingly. “Great choice! That’s one of our most popular items. Is it for a special occasion?”

Peter coughed nervously, his eyes glued to the floor. “Valentine’s Day… for my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s sweet! I’m sure she’ll love it,” she said, walking toward the display to grab the set. “Let me grab her size. Do you know her measurements?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Measurements? Right. Measurements.

“Uh… measurements?” He repeated, panic slowly building in his chest. Why hadn’t he thought about this? He knew so much about you, down to the smallest details—your favorite flower, how you liked your pizza, the way you always scrunched up your nose when you concentrated—but lingerie sizes? That was a complete mystery.

Peter scratched the back of his head, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. “I, uh… I don’t know her exact size.”

The sales assistant gave him a reassuring smile, sensing his discomfort. “That’s okay! Do you know her bra size? That might help.”

Peter gulped, trying to remember. He’d seen you in enough bras to have some idea, but he’d never really paid attention to the numbers. “I… think it’s, um… maybe (a size) ? Somewhere around there.” He rubbed his forehead, wishing he could vanish.

The assistant chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, we can work with that. I’ll grab it for you.”

She disappeared into the back of the store, leaving Peter standing alone, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, feeling completely out of place. Why did this feel like one of the most embarrassing moments of his life? And why was he still imagining you in that lingerie?

Moments later, the assistant returned with a neatly folded set in her hands, placing it in a sleek black silk bag. “Here you go. I think this will be perfect for her.”

Peter exhaled, grateful that this part was over. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the bag and heading straight to the register.

As he left the store, his heart still raced, though now it was a mixture of nerves and excitement. He wasn’t sure if you’d laugh at him for buying something like this, or if you’d find it sweet and thoughtful. Maybe both. Either way, he couldn’t wait to see your reaction.

When Peter finally got back to the apartment, he let out a sigh of relief. You weren’t home yet. Good. He quickly opened his closet and shoved the black silk bag under a pile of clothes, burying it deep, just in case you went snooping.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, closing the closet door. “Tomorrow. It’s all about tomorrow.”

Now all he had to do was wait.

----------

You dragged yourself through the front door, your body aching from a long, exhausting day. Kicking off your shoes with a tired groan, you shuffled into the living room, your eyes immediately landing on Peter sprawled out on the couch, watching some random show. Without a second thought, you dropped your bag on the floor and flopped down on top of him, burying your face into his chest as you let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Hey, baby, tired?" Peter asked, his voice soft as he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers gently running up and down your back.

"Mmhmm," you mumbled into his shirt. “You smell nice.”

Peter chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That’s because I just showered.”

You snuggled deeper into his chest, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him. “I needed this. You’re the best pillow.”

“I try,” he teased, his hand stroking your hair in slow, soothing motions. You could feel the tension of the day melting away, your body relaxing against him.

For a while, you just laid there, enjoying the warmth of his body, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. But as cozy as you were, you knew you had to freshen up. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up with a sigh. “Alright, I should get changed before I fall asleep right here.”

Peter smiled, watching you with affection as you shuffled to your room. “I’ll get dinner started while you change.”

You flashed him a grateful smile before disappearing down the hall. A few minutes later, you emerged from the bedroom in your comfiest clothes, feeling much more refreshed. As you made your way to the kitchen, you noticed something… off. Peter was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot, but he was quieter than usual. His movements were a bit jittery, and he kept glancing around like he was distracted.

“You okay, Peter?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact as he quickly stirred the pot a little too enthusiastically.

“O...kay,” you replied slowly, raising an eyebrow at him. Peter was never a great liar, and something was definitely up.

You leaned against the counter, watching him fumble around the kitchen. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy. “Okay, spill it. Did you do something?” Your voice had that playful but warning edge to it, the one you used whenever he was clearly hiding something.

“What? No!” Peter’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, looking like he’d just been caught red-handed.

“Peter…” You crossed your arms, your tone turning more insistent.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck—his classic nervous tell. “Okay, okay, I um I bought your Valentine’s gift, and I can’t wait to show you tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, your lips curving into a smile. “Oooo, is it that special?”

Peter’s lips twitched into a confident smirk, his nervousness melting away now that the secret was out. “Uh-huh. You’ll love it, trust me.”

“The way you’re acting all smug makes me think my gift for you is going to lose the battle,” you pouted as you leaned in closer to him.

Peter leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. “Come on, anything from you is special,” he whispered against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You playfully rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. “Alright, Mr. Flirt. But if my gift doesn’t wow you, you only have yourself to blame.”

Peter laughed, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He returned to cooking, but you could still see that mischievous glint in his eyes. Whatever he had planned for tomorrow, it was going to be something special. But for now, you were just content to be here with him, enjoying the calm before whatever surprise awaited you.

-----------

The morning sun poured through the windows as you and Peter strolled into your favorite little breakfast café. The scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries filled the air as you both took a seat by the window, the Valentine’s Day mood setting in perfectly. You smiled across the table at Peter, the excitement buzzing in you all morning.

“Is it something I wanted?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee.

Peter smirked, his eyes twinkling as he reached for his cup. “Not really. But patience, Bug.”

“Ugh, Peterrrr,” you groaned dramatically, leaning back in your chair. “You know I’m dying to see what you got me.”

Peter chuckled. “Just a few more hours. It’ll be worth the wait, promise.”

After breakfast, you both parted ways for your classes, though your mind kept drifting back to the gift. What could Peter have possibly gotten that made him so smug? The suspense was killing you, and your excitement only grew as the hours passed.

Finally, after classes ended, you and Peter met up at a cozy café near campus. You sipped on your coffee, both of you catching up on your day, but you could barely focus on anything else.

“I can’t wait anymore! What did you get me?” You asked, your voice full of anticipation.

Peter chuckled softly, clearly enjoying dragging this out. “Patience, baby.”

“Parker, I’m serious!” You pouted, giving him a glare.

Peter smiled, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Okay, okay. Just a few more minutes till we reach home.”

As soon as you both stepped through the front door, you were practically buzzing with excitement. You bounced on your heels, looking at Peter expectantly.

“Alright, alright,” Peter laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I got you two gifts.”

“Two?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide. “Not fair, Parker. I only got you one!”

Peter shrugged with a grin. “That’s fine. Give me yours first.”

You hurried to the bedroom, grabbing the gift bag you’d carefully prepared, and brought it back to him. Peter's sitting in the living room now. He’s eyes lit up as you handed to him. He reached inside the bag, pulling out the custom-made Star Wars sweatshirt.

“Wow, babe! This is awesome,” he said, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree as he ran his fingers over the design. “I love it.”

But it wasn’t until he pulled out the handwritten letter that his eyes really softened. He looked at you, wide-eyed, his heart clearly touched. “This… this is so sweet. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you said with a smile, feeling warmth spread through your chest.

Peter leaned over and kissed you gently. “I love it.”

“My turn now,” he said, standing up and heading toward the closet. You sat up straighter, your heart racing as Peter came back with two small bags.

He handed you a small, beautifully wrapped box first, and your fingers quickly tore through the wrapping. You gently opened the box, revealing a delicate silver chain with a spider web pendant. Your eyes lit up as you held it up, admiring the intricate design—it was so Peter.

“Peter, this is beautiful!” You gasped, your fingers gently tracing the pendant. Emotion tightened your throat. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

Relief washed over him, and he let out a small sigh. “I’m glad you like it. I just thought—well, you know, since—”

You smiled, cutting him off with a soft kiss. “It’s perfect, babe. Thank you.”

Peter smiled, his eyes warm. “Here, let me.” He took the necklace from you and gently clasped it around your neck, the cool silver resting perfectly against your skin. “There. It looks perfect on you.”

You touched the pendant, feeling your heart swell with affection. “Thank you,” you whispered, giving him another kiss on the cheek.

But then Peter hesitated, holding out a small black silk bag, looking more nervous than you'd seen him in a while. Your curiosity piqued as you took it, untying the delicate ribbon and opening the bag.

Your eyes widened when you saw what was inside—a silky red-and-black lingerie set. His suit's colors. You looked up at Peter, who was biting his lip nervously, his face a little flushed.

“Peter Parker… did you just buy me lingerie? ” You asked, your tone both amused and surprised.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly sheepish. “Uh, yeah. I saw it and… I don’t know, I thought you’d look amazing in it. I mean, you always do, but—uh, you know.” His words tumbled out awkwardly.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, not at him but at the idea of Peter standing in a lingerie store picking out something like this. The thought was both endearing and unexpected.

You pulled the lingerie out of the bag to admire it. It was delicate, silky, and very… Peter. “Red and black, huh? Your colors?”

Peter chuckled, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Yeah, I guess I couldn’t resist. Do you… like it?”

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought of him stepping out of his comfort zone for this. “I love it. You’re adorable, you know that?”

Peter let out a relieved laugh. “I was so nervous. I didn’t know if you’d think it was weird.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Not weird at all. In fact… I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you to buy something like this.”

Peter chuckled again, still bashful. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

You leaned in, kissing his cheek softly. “You’ve got good taste.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah? So you’re not freaked out or anything?”

“Not at all,” you replied with a smirk before excitement took over. “I’m gonna go put it on!”

You ran to your bedroom with a bounce in your step. Peter watched you disappear. He swallowed hard, a nervous laugh escaping him, fidgeting, trying to act casual, but his heart raced faster than when he swung between skyscrapers as he imagined what you’d look like. He had always thought you were stunning, but this… this felt different.

After a few moments, you called out from the bedroom, "Peter, close your eyes!"

He blinked, realizing he’d been staring at the door, waiting in anticipation. "O-okay!" He quickly squeezed his eyes shut, his foot tapping anxiously.

He heard the door creaked open, and then your voice, "Okay, you can open them now."

When Peter opened his eyes, he felt his breath catch in his throat. There you stood, in front of him, wearing the red and black babydoll lingerie. The fabric hugged your body perfectly, accentuating every curve in a way that had Peter's mind reeling. His gaze trailed over you, from the delicate straps on your shoulders, to the way the red lace contrasted against your skin, all the way down to the short hem that barely grazed your thighs.

“Holy…,” Peter whispered, eyes wide, lips parted in awe. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every inch of you screamed perfection, and he felt his body reacting instantly. His jeans felt tighter, and his heart pounded like crazy.

You gave him a playful twirl, showing off how the fabric moved against your skin. “Someone’s excited,” you teased, noticing his boner, his eyes roaming over you like you were the only thing that existed in the world. "So… what do you think, Spidey?"

Peter swallowed hard, his mind struggling to form words. "I… you… wow." He stood up, slowly making his way over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "You look… I don’t even have words for how beautiful you are."

You blushed under his intense gaze, biting your lip. "You sure? You're kind of just staring."

"Yeah," he whispered, his hands hovering near your waist but not quite touching yet. "I can't help it. You look incredible."

His eyes roamed over you again, and you could feel the heat in his gaze. It was like he couldn't decide where to focus—your legs, your chest, your eyes—he wanted to take in every detail. Slowly, his hands moved to your waist, fingers brushing lightly over the soft fabric.

"I’m glad you like it," you teased softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It fits perfectly, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Peter murmured, his hands sliding up your sides now, feeling the lace and satin beneath his fingertips. "And, God, you look even better in it than I imagined." His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands now trailing lower, down to the curve of your hips. "You’re perfect," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours lightly.

You laughed softly, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. "Peter, you’re staring again."

"I know," he admitted with a smirk, his hands now gripping your waist firmly, pulling you closer. "Can’t help it. You’re just… I mean, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you look like this?"

"Who said you had to?" You whispered, your lips barely brushing his.

That was all the encouragement Peter needed. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that took your breath away, his hands roaming freely now, exploring every inch of your body. His touch was warm, his grip possessive, as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt beneath his hands.

You gasped against his lips as his hands moved lower, squeezing your ass before sliding up to your waist again. "Peter," you breathed, feeling the heat building between you. His lips moved from yours, trailing down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"You’re driving me crazy," he murmured against your collarbone, his hands gripping the lace at your hips, pulling you flush against him. "You have no idea how hard it is to keep it together right now."

You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his curls. "Then don’t."

Peter’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing as his heated gaze locked onto yours. His hands twitched at his sides, barely holding himself back. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, and in one swift motion, he scooped you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

You giggled in surprise as he carried you toward the bed, his lips brushing lightly against your neck. Gently, Peter laid you down, his hands caressing your body as his eyes trailed over you, like he was memorizing every detail. His heart pounded, and the desire in his eyes was impossible to hide.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Peter murmured, his voice rough with need as he hovered over you, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a rough, heated kiss. His hands, trembling with urgency, slid over the curve of your waist, down to your hips, his fingers gripping you possessively as if he couldn’t get enough.

You kissed him back eagerly, your fingers threading through his messy curls, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened. Peter’s lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, his kisses hot and fevered, before moving lower, grazing your neck. His lips grew more insistent, and when he found that sensitive spot that made you gasp, he didn’t hesitate to suck hard, leaving a trail of marks in his wake, each one claiming you in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“Mmm, Peter,” you breathed out, arching your neck to give him more access. Your hands ran over his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he worked his mouth down your body.

Peter’s hands moved lower, tugging on the ribbon that held the lingerie together in the middle of your chest. The fabric loosened, exposing your boobs to him. His eyes darkened even more, and without missing a beat, he lowered his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking gently at first before he let his tongue swirl around it. His other hand moved to your other boob, squeezing and massaging it, his thumb brushing over your sensitive skin.

“Peter…” you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair as the pleasure rippled through you. The feeling of his hot mouth and strong hands on your body was overwhelming, in the best way possible.

Peter groaned against your skin, loving every sound you made. “You're so soft,” he muttered between kisses, his voice deep and full of raw emotion. He switched to your other boob, lavishing it with just as much attention, his lips sucking and biting gently, making you shiver beneath him.

Your back arched off the bed, your breathing coming out in ragged gasps as Peter continued his assault on your senses. He was relentless, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me,” Peter growled softly, his lips brushing against your collarbone as his hands moved lower, tracing the curves of your hips. “I’ve been thinking about this… about you… all day.”

You moaned in response, your body on fire from his touch. “Peter… please…” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, but you needed more—more of him, more of everything.

Peter grinned against your skin. With a gentle yet confident movement, he slipped his hand under your babydoll lingerie, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped softly, feeling his fingertips trace the curves of your body with a slow, deliberate reverence. As he tugged your thong down, a rush of excitement coursed through you, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Peter,” you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and desire.

He grinned against your skin, sensing your need. “Patience, baby,” he teased, his voice low and teasing as his hands continued exploring. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his warmth enveloping you, making you melt against him, craving more of his touch. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his words a promise. You shivered at the thought, knowing Peter wouldn’t stop until you were completely undone.

Then, as if sensing your desire, he began to trail kisses down your body, moving lower and lower. The sensation of his lips against your skin made your breath hitch. When he finally reached your most sensitive spot, he paused for a moment, looking up at you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. Before you could respond, he dove in, his mouth capturing you in a way that made your back arch and your fingers tangle in his hair.

Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but gasp, your body reacting instinctively to his every move. “Peter… oh my god,” you moaned, the sensations overwhelming yet intoxicating.

He expertly teased you, alternating between gentle caresses and firmer movements that had you losing track of time. As he continued to work his mouth against you, you felt one of his fingers slip between your folds, teasingly tracing your entrance.

“Peter…” you gasped, your breath hitching at the new sensation. He looked up at you with a smirk, and then he slowly pushed a finger inside you, filling you completely. You gasped at the stretch, a mix of pleasure and intensity flooding your senses.

He began to move his finger in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue as he lavished attention on your most sensitive spot. The dual sensations were overwhelming, drawing soft moans from your lips. “Just like that,” you encouraged, your voice shaky with pleasure.

Peter added another finger, stretching you deliciously as he worked to find that perfect spot inside you. Each thrust of his fingers, combined with the swirling of his tongue, sent you spiraling closer to the edge. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, tightening with every movement.

“Please, don’t stop,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a determined glint in his eye, Peter picked up the pace, his fingers curling and pressing deep within you while his mouth continued its teasing work. The world around you faded away, and all that mattered was the pleasure building within you.

Finally, with one last wave of his skilled mouth and fingers, you felt the tension snap. “Peter!” You cried out, your body arching as you succumbed to the bliss of your release, waves of pleasure washing over you.

Peter lingered for a moment longer, his fingers still moving gently inside you as you came down from your high, the warmth of his body grounding you. He watched your trembling form with a smug grin, clearly pleased with himself, his gaze full of satisfaction. Slowly, he pulled out his fingers, leaving you breathless and dazed, completely captivated by the intensity of what had just happened.

But as he stood up, his eyes still locked on yours, your heart began to race again. You watched, mesmerized, as he stripped off his clothes, each piece falling away with deliberate slowness, sending a fresh wave of anticipation coursing through your veins. The room felt electric, the heat between you two growing once more.

He stood before you, his body beautifully sculpted, muscles glistening in the soft light. You couldn't help but admire him—his lean frame, the way his skin looked almost flawless, and the sight of his tip, red and aching for you. The raw need in his gaze made your breath hitch again, the air thick with desire.

Peter caught you staring, a playful smirk crossing his lips as he climbed back onto the bed. He reached for a condom, tearing open the package with a quick, practiced motion before rolling it onto himself. The sight sent another wave of heat through you.

“Ready for me, baby?” He whispered, hovering over you once more, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, tantalizing kiss. The taste of you lingered on your lips as he kissed you deeply, pouring all his desire into the moment.

When he pulled back slightly, his eyes bore into yours, a mixture of affection and lust swirling within them. “I want to make you feel amazing,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

Without breaking eye contact, he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You could feel the heat radiating from him, your body instinctively arching against him, craving his fullness.

In one smooth motion, he pushed inside you, his movements confident and assured. The sensation was blissful, your bodies fitting together perfectly as he filled you completely. You gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling utterly consumed by him.

“Fuck, Peter,” you breathed, your body welcoming him, the familiar pleasure sparking to life within you.

He began to move, his thrusts steady and deep, every push sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you. You felt alive, completely lost in the moment, your body responding eagerly to his every move.

“Just like that,” you encouraged, your hands gripping his shoulders as he established a rhythm, driving you both higher and higher. Each thrust felt electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his brows furrowed in concentration mixed with pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice a mixture of awe and need.

You locked your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as you met each thrust with your own movements, eager to take him fully. Your breaths mingled, and the sounds of skin against skin filled the room, creating a symphony of passion.

Peter’s lips found yours again, and you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in him completely. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the bliss you were both creating, the connection that bound you together in this moment.

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge once more. You could feel the pressure building within you, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Peter… I’m so close,” you gasped, feeling the familiar tension coiling within you.

“Just a little more,” he urged, his voice husky with desire as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. “I want to feel you come for me again.”

With that, the heat inside you peaked, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink. “I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your body trembling in anticipation.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded softly, his breath hot against your ear as he thrust deeply once more.

With a final push, you let yourself fall over the edge, your body shuddering as pleasure consumed you, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you. “Peter!” You cried out, the bliss flooding your senses as you surrendered completely to the moment.

As you rode out your orgasm, you felt Peter’s rhythm falter, his body responding to your release. With a few more deep thrusts, he followed you into bliss, groaning your name as he found his release, the two of you lost in each other.

Peter collapsed on you, face buried in the crook of your neck, his warm body melting against yours as the aftershocks of pleasure coursed through you both. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed heavily, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the aftermath of your shared bliss.

After a moment, he pulled out slowly, and you couldn’t help but whimper at the sudden emptiness. The sensation lingered, a bittersweet reminder of how perfectly he had filled you just moments before. You looked over at him, still in your babydoll lingerie, and found him gazing at you with a mixture of awe and affection.

Peter discarded the condom, tossing it into the nearby trash before laying beside you, his eyes softening. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you softly. The kiss was gentle, filled with sweetness and intimacy, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment that had just passed.

You smiled against his lips, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the physical connection you had just shared. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Peter,” you replied, your heart fluttering at the tenderness in his voice.

He pulled back slightly, still holding your gaze. “I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate,” he said, a teasing grin breaking through the softness. You laughed softly, feeling giddy and cherished.

“You really know how to make me feel special,” you replied, playfully nudging him.

“You deserve it,” he said, his expression turning sincere as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

Your heart swelled at his words, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. “You too,” you said softly, leaning in to capture his lips in another tender kiss.

As you settled into the post-bliss afterglow, you felt a comforting warmth spread between you, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You nestled into his side, feeling safe and loved, your heart full.

Peter wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer as you both basked in the glow of your shared affection. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, perfectly content in each other's presence.

“What do you want to do now?” He asked, his voice low and warm.

You pondered for a moment, considering the possibilities. “Maybe we could watch a movie or just stay here and cuddle?”

“We can do both,” he replied, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I like that,” with that, you both settled into a comfortable silence.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪

[changes]

Tuesday, January 14th, 2025

🌟 New

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🛠 Fixed

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🚧 Ongoing

No ongoing incidents to speak of right now.

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Experiencing an issue? Check for Known Issues and file a Support Request if you have something new. We’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

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[genshin-impact-updates]

"Unlimited Throwing Simulation" —— The web event for Genshin Impact's new character: Skirk is now available.

>> Click to Take Part in Event <<

〓Event Duration〓

06/20/2025 – 06/27/2025 23:59 (UTC+8)

〓Eligibility〓

Reach Adventure Rank 10 or above

〓Event Summary〓

During the event, you will need to help Skirk defeat Riftwolves and complete designated missions. Upon completion, you will receive in-game items as rewards.

〓In-Game Rewards〓

After defeating Riftwolves, share your battle results to obtain in-game rewards, such as Primogems and Character Enhancement Materials.

〓Event Notes〓

1. Please log in to the event using your HoYoverse Account and select your corresponding character in Genshin Impact to take part. This will ensure that your rewards can be sent and claimed correctly.

2. The event wallpaper is not available after the event ends. Please download and save it in time.

3. After completing the designated missions, the in-game rewards will be distributed via in-game mail. The mail will expire after 30 days, so don't forget to claim the rewards in time.

4. After checking the box to agree to publicize your in-game nickname and corresponding scores, you can view the leaderboard (note: leaderboard updates may be delayed).

*This web event is provided purely for entertainment. It is not indicative of any related gameplay features in Genshin Impact.

[tanuki-kimono]

Lovely article+illustrations by Kimono Ichiba (via Tanpopo <3), overviewing famous "scary"patterns... which are in fact often auspicious as traditional Japanese patterns ;)

I believe I have them all on the blog somewhere but it's nice having them in one place so let's go!

Spiderwebs (kumo no su)

In ancient China, spider were seen as auspicious messengers connecting Heaven to Earth.

As the spider catches its prey in its web, spiderweb came to signify "grasping happiness".

Apparently during Edo period, prostitutes and geisha used spiderweb patterned items as a good luck charm (meaning something like "this customer will come back").

A very famous spiderweb depiction is the Lady Rokujo ukiyoe [焔 honô (the flame of passion)] by female artist Uemura Shoen. Wisteria caught in the web could mean ``I hope [Prince Genji] will come tonight'' which is pretty sad considering her story T_T

Skulls (dokuro)

Exact name for human remains pattern is "nozarashi" (lit. "weather beaten") ie bones scattered in a field. This depicts a corpse turned to bones/unveiled from its grave by the elements.

Skulls are thought to ward off evil and bad luck. Bones can also symbolize a do-or-die spirit​, or hope for rebirth after death.

OP stresses a theory linking bones pattern to a buddhist saying 色即是空 shikisokuzekū "form is emptiness, matter is void, all is vanity​". An interpetation is that we'll all turn to dust one day so we're all equal.

Bones patterns are often seen during Obon (Festival of the dead) season.

Monsters, ogres and ghosts (yôkai / oni / yûrei)

Monsters patterns were then worn to ward off bad luck and evil spirits. Reasoning is: let's repel scary things by wearing an even scarier monster!

Fearsome monsters were especially use by people with dangerous jobs, like Edo period firemen.

Firemen often had the lining of their heavy fire attire (火事装束 kajishouzoku) embelished with lavish designs of brave heroes and fantastic monsters. It was both a talisman and a way to show that they did not fear danger or death.

Another reason behing monsters patterns is the Edo period love for "scary" entertainements, be it ghost stories, parlor or other types of games, art (see for ex. Utagawa Kuniyoshi), etc. And Edo city dwellers were all about being fashionable so a monster pattern would have been considered quite iki!

[fruitwhimsy]

SUPERPOWER / QUiRK iDEAS .ᐟ ꩜ (part 2!)

part one !

꩜ interlock

⟶ lock or unlock within eyesight. This includes . . .

locking people joints to affect mobility.

unlock electronic devices (no need for a password!)

locking / unlocking doors, padlocks, etc

drawbacks could include your own joints locking up.

꩜ phobikinesis

⟶ the ability to sense someones worst fear and show it to them as a hallucination. This can cause people to have reactions anywhere from a slight stun to a full on mental breakdown.

drawbacks could contains nightmares or PTSD.

꩜ umbraportation

⟶ the ability to teleport through shadows.

꩜ withdrawl

⟶ the ability to heal any living thing, but at the cost of the enviroment around (e.g. fully healing someones injuries but the plants surrounding them begin to die.)

꩜ necrotize

⟶ able to cause something to cycle through the process of decomposition. Make living things deteriorate in a matter of seconds, plants wilt, metal corrode, wood rot, etc.

꩜ arachnid

⟶ user is able to stick to walls, spray webs out of different parts of their body, sense vibrations, and release venom when they bite someone.

you could also have some fun with character design, and give the user the lower body of a spider, multiple eyes, multiple limbs, or something of the sort.

꩜ charm

⟶ pretty self explanatory. Be able to charm anyone. This is espically good for a villain, as you could kill someone yet convince people your innocent.

꩜ molecular control

⟶ the ability to change the atomic level of any and all objects. This means you can change the atomic structure of all states of matter, turning solid items into liquid, gas into solid, etc.

꩜ bone manipulation

⟶ be able to manipulate your own bones. The possibilities are endless, but here are some concepts:

turning your spine into a tail, a movable appendage, etc

breaking off pieces of your rib cage to act as throwing knives

creating some sort of exoskeleton

꩜ jellyfish

⟶ physical mutation where instead of hair, one has the tentacles of a jellyfish. These tentacles are venomous, and will sting anyone who touches them. The user can also channel this venom through their skin, making them venomous to the touch.

also bioluminescent organs!! they can literally glow in the dark lol

[anastoundingmango]

you already know I (notorious World War I fiend) was going to draw Smoke and Stack in 1917… check the read more for history rambling in regards to this fanart

disclaimer: I am not a historian specializing in this field. my wwi knowledge is a personal interest. that being said, i try my best.

I spent a hot second trying to place which unit they could be in but in this article (https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/article/michael-b-jordan-sinners-watch-2025) Douglas Ware, the prop master of Sinners, confirms they were part of the 369th infantry, the famous Harlem Hellfighters!

In my opinion, the Harlem Hellfighters are one of the most important units for US involvement in WWI (like, they were seriously at every major battle and were one of the first units to reach Europe) and they did it all while facing discrimination from the very country they were fighting for. If you are at all interested in this topic, please do your own research on them, as they are so important to American history. (Also, mandatory Horace Pippin shoutout! He was a Hellfighter, and you should look into his art and history) BACKGROUND INFO:

The Harlem Hellfighters, while an American unit, served under the French military, which had no formal policy of segregation (though de facto segregation was still noted) and had many black soldiers through French-occupied African troops such as the Senegalese Tirailleurs, and soldiers hailing from Guinea, Niger, Mali, Morocco, Algeria, Madagascar, Burkina Faso, and some southeast Asian troops from Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia.

The 369th had P17 Enfields (the rifle), standard US M1910 web equipment (web equipment = the belts and stuff) and the M1917 doughboy helmets. But when they get to the French, they get issued the French Lebel rifle, ammo for said rifle, and Mle 1915 Adrian helmets. [https://gunsmagazine.com/our-experts/the-harlem-hellfighters/]

In pictures of the Harlem Hellfighters in millitary parades or organized events, you’ll see them in the American doughboy helmets. However, a lot of deployment pictures that I've looked through show them in the Adrian helmets. [https://digitalcollections.nypl.org/items/c0532ca7-41a1-88cb-e040-e00a18064619] If your helmet got lost or damaged in battle, it was a lot easier to use a helmet that the army you're serving under is actively supplying. However, it was still possible for a Hellfighter to have either one.

HOW THIS IS COOL IN REGARDS TO SMOKE AND STACK:

In my fanart, I drew Smoke wearing the Adriatic helmet and Stack wearing the doughboy helmet.

THEY COULD KEEP THEIR COLOR SCHEMES AND HAT PROFILES ALL THE WAY BACK TO WW1!!! I am disproportionately stoked about this

The Doughboy helmet has that iconic wide brim, just like Stack's Italian hat, and it was often painted with a camo pattern that prominently featured red

[https://www.pritzkermilitary.org/explore/museum/past-exhibits/lest-we-forget-doughboys-sammies-and-sailors-great-war/camouflage-painted-doughboy-helmet]

The Adrian helmet has front visor and short sides that match the look of Smoke's Italian cap, and was painted with with a deep blue-gray

[http://www.151ril.com/content/gear/uniforms/15]

Ryan Coogler is a brilliant filmmaker, and even reading through the article I linked above, you can tell that everyone on this production put so much thought and time into the history, story, themes and costume design. They got a vintage tench watch for pete's sake! I like the part in that article when Ware talks about how he might have gotten it from the French by trading for it, or by getting it as a gift for saving a French unit. So much thought put into the details!! I know that they also definitely talked about the uniform possibilities like this

in conclusion go watch Sinners, masterpiece of our time, for the narrative themes, history, characters, music, cinematography, writing and genuinely some of the best filmmaking of the last decade!!!!

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.  His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

 . . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷��̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management.  You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

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“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

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Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

[happywebdesign]

ACCOMPAGNY

[valiasims]

WIP#48

Hey everyone!

Sorry for not updating you earlier but after I published the last set I started working a revamp for my tumblr to look more professional and to feature all my downloads in one place. I thought since I work in the field I could put together something. Well, don't look yet because it isn't updated yet, I still have a lot to work on it. But step by step it will be done hopefully, and you can easily download everything because on Patreon it's so annoying to scroll to oblivion.

Since I worked on the web design last weekend I only started doing the new set a couple of days ago and I've been doing modeling, UV etc. up until now. These are the first items I could finally see in game and as a visual person I need to see something to motivate me that what I'm working on for days not gonna turn out trash. :D

As I said earlier this set is gonna be something I think will go well with the new expansion pack. Ever since I made Baker's Kitchen last year I wanted to do a proper bakery collection but I was really excited that time to start creating and wanted to try ot different things so I never got to do it. I couldn't let it go though so I thought this would be perfect for the start of the spring. Also someone suggested a similar idea on tumblr and I was like, yeah this could be interesting.

I don't want to repeat myself so this set will look different and more focused on sweets and cakes and the community lot aspect of it. Also I think I learned a lot since those earlier sets too.

This may will be separated into two sets because I want to focus on the guest area (tables, chairs etc. ) and the baker area (baking clutter, trays etc.) as well. My inspiration came from the japandi style and its elegance but I want to bring in nature and flowers.

These kitchen islands are not finished because I have to do the top still but I wanted to show you something because I like the communication and being here with you. I tried to design these to be a full kitchen and be usable on residential lots as well. I'll add cabinets too and of course the counters. I hope you'll like this because I'm really excited to finally step away a little from the cabin theme. Although this seems modern at first glance I want to add charm and personality with clutter and as I mentioned flowers!

Sorry for the long post this happens when we meet rarely. :D So much happens in a week, we reached 14 000 followers! We're halfway to 15 000. Thank you so so much! I appreciate every one of you!

[theambitiouswoman]

Hobby Ideas 🎨💻🎵🧁🪴

💰 Hobbies to Make Money:

Freelance Writing

Photography

Graphic Design

Web Development

Online Selling (e.g., Etsy, Amazon, eBay, Shopify)

Blogging

Stock Trading

Real Estate Investing

Affiliate Marketing

Freelance Consulting

💪 Fitness Hobbies:

Running

Yoga

Weightlifting

Cycling

Swimming

Martial Arts

CrossFit

Hiking

Rock Climbing

Dance (e.g., Zumba, Hip-hop)

☀️ Outdoor Hobbies:

Camping

Fishing

Birdwatching

Gardening

Geocaching

Kayaking

Mountain Biking

Backpacking

Stargazing

Horseback Riding

💻 Technology Hobbies:

Programming

Robotics

3D Printing

Virtual Reality (VR) Gaming

Home Automation

Drone Flying

Cybersecurity

App Development

Electronics DIY

PC Building

🎵 Music Hobbies:

Playing an Instrument (e.g., Guitar, Piano)

Singing

DJing

Music Production

Songwriting

Music Recording

Karaoke

Music Theory

Joining a Band or Choir

Vinyl Collecting

📚 Brainy Hobbies:

Chess

Sudoku

Crossword Puzzles

Board Games

Reading

Learning a New Language

Brain Teasers

Logic Puzzles

Math and Mathematical Puzzles

Astronomy

✨ Other Hobbies:

Cooking and Baking

Painting and Drawing

Pottery and Ceramics

Woodworking

Knitting or Crocheting

DIY Home Improvement

Model Building (e.g., model trains, airplanes)

Collecting (e.g., stamps, coins, vintage items)

Volunteer Work

Meditation and Mindfulness