#BUT STILL. I WANT IT AS A TOOL IN MY KIT

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

Every day, I wish I knew Japanese so that I could read Cyrano de Bergerac in Japanese

[orcelito]

Planning out my outfit for my concert shit. I think I've got good pants for it, maybe got shoes for it. Gonna look for a blouse tomorrow + possibly some new shoes. Bc the maybe-shoes are those shoes I got for the suit that I HATE. They gave me such terrible blisters. And I think the pants I have would look better with some kind of heel. But if I don't find anything good I can just use those flats. And for the blouse, it's gotta be black and long sleeve and also have enough flexibility to not restrict my playing. Flexible Clothes. All the better to play a funky little tune in.

On top of that tho I've got several assignments I gotta do this week. Gotta make a wireframe prototype for my web app for web programming class. Tonight, really. Bc the official thing is due Sunday but I gotta get it reviewed by classmate(s) (and also review someone else's, too), so better to have that done sooner rather than later. There's also a lab for my C programming class due on Friday, which I need to have done before the end of lab so I can get it checked off. Gonna try to get most of it done tomorrow night, if not all of it, so that I can just go into lab and get it checked off and then LEAVE. Bc if I stay the full lab I will have less than an hour b4 I gotta be at the venue for sound check. And I really would prefer to have more time before that. Tbh the lab probably won't take TOO much work, since it's just using recursion to make a lil maze solver thing. Not too many lines of code, since the recursion does a lot of that. The tricky part is actually figuring out the logic for it properly. But I took good notes on it when my professor talked about it in class so MAYBE I didn't attend the last 2 labs and MAYBE I haven't even started the thing. But it's ok. Fuck it we ball. And ON TOP OF THAT... the assignments, the orchestra prep, etc... I also wanna clean my apartment some, probably on Friday morning, bc nonzero chance of visitors after the concert. Not for long if they do come in. But Still.... #Embarrassed. It's not as bad as it was b4 bc thankfully I did manage to do my dishes. But there's still some things I should get cleaned up.

AND THEN...!!!!!!!!!!

Well I mentioned the prototype thing. I gotta review someone else's prototype, and I also need to update my own prototype depending on what people say about mine. Tbh I'm kinda planning on doing a lower-effort version to start with (instead of trying to make it perfect from the start) so that it'll hopefully be easier to adjust the prototype to whatever the advice is & make it seem like an actual improvement. There's also a presentation over this thing, which thankfully I'm presenting on... Wednesday, I think? But I gotta have the slides submitted I Think Sunday night (when the prototype itself is due). So I gotta prep the presentation alongside prepping the prototype. AND I have a lab for this same class due on Sunday too, so I'm a busy bee!!

And ON TOP OF ALL THAT, I have a midterm exam in-class on Wednesday for my C programming class (same day as the web programming presentation, ugh 🙄), a presentation for my quality engineering in IT class on Thursday (over ISO 9001 quality standard), AND a paper for that presentation's content due on..Friday, I think? It's a group presentation/paper, same group I worked with last time, which Thankfully they can pull their own weight. It's just more to do lol.

God. I'm being worked to the bone, actually. Feels like everything is happening all at once. But then I remember that it's midterms time and I have spring break the week after next. And I'm like. OK, that makes sense.

Just gotta survive the next week and a half... lol...

[waffultaim]

Some mama time sketchs too

[sweetiechichi]

babydoll!reader cries and mattheo comes running ૮ ˶︶^︶˶ ა🧸🐇<3

warnings: injury (scraped knee, minor bleeding), blood (brief, not graphic), crying, protective!mattheo, mean!mattheo, mentions of physical altercations, mild language

it didn’t hurt right away. her foot just slipped--moss-covered stone behind the greenhouse, her heel catching on a protruding edge. the fall was sudden, knee cracking against the step with a dull thud. the sting came after. sharp enough to make her gasp. sharp enough to sit her down right there on the cold stone, her dress puddling around her like crushed petals.

she blinked. once, twice. blood seeped through the tear in her tights. lace ruined. her sleeve was already pink-stained from trying to clean it. her throat felt tight. her eyes burned. she didn’t want to cry. but of course she did.

shaky fingers. unlocked phone. one name. muscle memory. it barely rang.

“baby.” his voice was flat. clipped. something electric already buried in the way he said it.

“i--i fell,” she whispered. “it’s not bad, i just--my knee. there’s dirt, and it’s bleeding, and--”

“where are you?”

“behind the greenhouse--”

“don’t move.”

“wait, matty--” he was already gone.

he nearly broke the door on his way out. someone called his name in the hall. he didn’t stop. didn’t look. fists clenched. jaw set. not running. but walking like he wanted to fight something.

and when he found her?

he froze. then stalked forward, faster now. she was curled up on the step, sleeves over her hands, tears in her lashes. the blood on her leg was drying around the edges. she looked tiny. miserable.

he crouched without a word, scanning her up and down like she’d been hurt worse than she had. his voice was low, tight, like it hurt him to speak. “what the fuck happened?”

she sniffled, already embarrassed. “i tripped. it’s stupid.”

“who pushed you?”

“no one--just the steps, my heel--”

“lemme see.”

she pulled the fabric aside. he saw the scrape. hissed through his teeth like it personally offended him.

“i’m gonna curse whoever built this fucking school.” she tried to laugh. “you’re being dramatic.”

“you’re bleeding,” he muttered. “come here.”

he stepped in close, hands slipping under her arms like she was made of glass. pulled her upright, steadying her against his chest. she winced, soft and small, and he exhaled hard--like the sound of her pain physically winded him.

“this way,” he said, nudging her foot forward with his. “inside.”

he led her in like she was breakable. like if he let go for even a second, she’d shatter. then, without hesitation, he cleared the nearest potting bench with one swift motion--pots, gloves, tools crashing to the floor like they didn’t matter. like nothing did except her.

she blinked. opened her mouth to speak.

but he was already stalking off --long strides, fast and furious--disappearing behind a heavy wooden door. she heard the clatter of supplies, a few curses under his breath, and then he returned, breathless, with something old and dented in his hands.

the first aid kit looked like it belonged in a museum. maybe it had. probably hadn't been touched since the founders walked these halls.

he dropped it beside her and started digging through like he’d done it a thousand times. of course it had antiseptic. of course it had gauze. and of course he knew exactly where to find it. he’d fixed worse--broken noses, busted lips, split skin from fights he sometimes started but always finished.

but this?

this was her. and that made it different.

he paused, just for a second. then, quieter, “this is gonna sting, baby.”

she whimpered when he pressed the cloth to her skin. his hands were steady. his jaw wasn’t. “i know. i know. just--stay still for me, yeah?”

he wrapped the gauze too tight the first time. she flinched. “shit. sorry.” he fixed it, slower this time. “you gotta tell me when it hurts, alright?”

she nodded, lip trembling. he looked like he might fall apart right there. “stop crying,” he whispered. “i’m trying.” “well you’re shit at it,” he snapped--but it cracked at the end.

she sniffled. and then he reached out, curled his fingers under her jaw, and kissed her temple. hard. like a promise. or maybe a warning.

“next time, you call me before you cry. you don’t sit out here like some kicked puppy. you call me. i fix it.” she nodded fast. like it was gospel. like it meant everything.

he stood. held out his arms. “come here.”

“i can walk.” “i didn’t ask.”

she let him lift her. she always did. head tucked into his chest, arms around his neck.

two ravenclaws stared too long. he glared until they looked away.

he carried her up to her tower. up the steps. into her little pink-lit room. lace curtains. frilly blankets. mr. sunday waiting on the bed.

he didn’t say a thing about the bunny. just set her down gentle. untied her shoes.

when she reached for his hand, he gave it. didn’t even look. just laced their fingers together and whispered:

“if it were up to me, you’d never touch the fucking ground.”

ପ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ଓ 🌸🤍

a/n: thank you for reading! pls send requests, i would love to hear your ideas for future fics xoxo

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Heyyyyyy I love ur page sm can you do a Oscar and lily fic with a teen daughter where she is a ballet dancer and hurt herself in one of the classes?

(English is not my first language so sorry if it has any mistakes:))

A Tender Step

Yn’s toes ached as she stood in the center of the studio, her body poised and her mind focused on the movements that had been ingrained in her for years. The bar was still in front of her, and the mirrors around her reflected her every movement. But today, there was something different about it—something that gnawed at the back of her mind. It wasn’t the usual discomfort of a long practice, nor was it the strain of perfecting her pliés or pirouettes. It was something far more painful, something that had been quietly creeping up for days, and now it was becoming impossible to ignore.

Her feet, which had always been her greatest tool and her greatest source of pride, were beginning to betray her. She could feel the pain in her arch, but she forced herself to push through it, telling herself it was just the normal ache of a dancer’s life. She continued, focusing all her energy on perfecting the next movement, but the pain in her feet became sharper with each passing second. Her toes throbbed as though they were on fire, a deep burn that was unlike anything she had experienced before.

It wasn't until she finished her leap across the floor, landing gracefully with the elegance of a swan, that she could no longer ignore it. As she slowly lowered her foot, she felt the searing pain shoot up her leg. Her body froze for a moment, a small gasp escaping her lips. The redness in her feet was alarming, and she instinctively pulled her pointe shoes off to inspect the damage.

The sight made her stomach churn.

Blood. Dark red and pooled along the fabric of her tights, creeping across the curve of her arch and into her toes. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she instinctively sat down, her head spinning.

“Yn?” Her dance teacher, Claire, appeared by her side instantly, her tone calm but firm. Claire had always been a steady presence in the studio, her experience as a ballerina and teacher making her a reliable guide. “Let’s take a look at those feet.”

Yn winced as Claire gently took her foot in her hands, her voice soothing as she inspected the damage. “You’ve overworked them. Your skin has worn away under the pressure, and the blood... well, that’s a bit more concerning. We need to get them wrapped up.”

Yn nodded silently, her breath still shallow as the reality of what had happened began to set in. She hadn’t meant to push herself this far. She had just wanted to keep improving. It was a familiar feeling, the constant drive to be better, to push through the pain for the love of the art. But she had never imagined that this would be the cost.

Claire, never one for dramatics, quickly retrieved the first aid kit from the corner of the studio, unwrapping the bandages with precision. “You’re going to need to rest these feet for a while, Yn,” she said quietly, her tone laced with concern. “You’ve been practicing too hard without giving your feet the attention they need. No more pointe work for a while. Do you hear me?”

Yn nodded, unable to speak. She felt embarrassed, a rush of self-consciousness flooding her. She had always been the dancer who gave everything, who worked harder than anyone else. But now, it felt like her own body was betraying her.

Claire finished wrapping her feet carefully, making sure the bandages were secure. “I think you should call your parents. Let them know what happened. You should probably go to a doctor to get these looked at. No point in waiting.”

It was only then that Yn realized how dizzy she felt, the pale feeling creeping through her limbs. She felt lightheaded, as if she might pass out at any moment.

“Alright, Yn. Take it easy, okay?” Claire said, her voice soft but firm. “Rest here, and I’ll call your parents for you.”

Yn didn’t protest as she pulled out her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she dialed her mom’s number. The screen blinked a few times before the call connected. Her mom’s voice immediately came through, filled with the warmth and love that always made Yn feel safe.

“Hello, sweetie! How’s practice going?” Lily’s voice was chipper, unaware of the trouble brewing on the other end.

“Mom,” Yn’s voice cracked as she spoke, her usual calm demeanor slipping. “I... I hurt myself. My feet... they’re really bad, and there’s blood.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of Lily’s voice growing alarmed. “Oh, sweetheart, where are you? We’re coming right now. Just stay calm, okay?”

“I’m at the studio, in the main room,” Yn whispered, glancing down at her feet again. She could feel the tears welling up, but she fought them back. She hated feeling like this—weak, vulnerable, and unsure of herself.

“Alright, we’ll be there in a few minutes,” Lily said. “Don’t move. Claire’s with you, right?”

“Yeah,” Yn replied, her voice steadying just a bit as she felt the reassuring presence of her teacher beside her. “She’s here.”

“Good. Just breathe. We’ll be there soon.”

The call ended, and Yn leaned back against the barre, her feet elevated, trying to ignore the throbbing pain that still pulsed through them. She took a few slow, steadying breaths, trying to keep herself composed. The tears she had been fighting began to blur her vision, and she wiped them away quickly, refusing to let anyone see her break down.

A few moments later, her friend, Emma, knelt beside her, concern etched across her face. “Yn, you look so pale,” Emma said softly, her hand resting on Yn’s arm. “You should rest a little. Your face is so white. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Yn gave her a weak smile. “I’ll be fine. My parents are on their way.”

“I know, but still... maybe just close your eyes for a second?” Emma’s tone was gentle, her voice like a soft melody. “You don’t look good.”

Yn’s body felt like lead, but she nodded, letting her eyes flutter shut as she leaned back against the mirror. It was hard to shake the exhaustion from her limbs, but she was grateful for the reprieve from the searing pain in her feet. For a moment, it was just quiet—the hum of the studio and the rhythmic breathing of her friend beside her.

Minutes passed, and soon enough, the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot echoed through the windows. Yn’s heart gave a small jump, knowing that her parents were finally here. They had been the ones to support her through every step of her dance journey, from her first class at three years old to now, as a teenager pushing herself to the limit.

Oscar’s voice reached her first. “Yn! Sweetheart, are you okay?” He rushed into the room, his eyes scanning the scene, his worry palpable. He immediately came to her side, gently kneeling down and pulling her into his arms.

Yn’s heart ached at the feel of her father’s embrace. She had always been the strong one, the one who kept a composed face no matter what, but right now, she just wanted to be held, to feel safe.

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to hurt myself. I just wanted to keep going, and now look at my feet...”

Oscar’s hands were gentle as he brushed the hair away from her face, his voice soft but firm. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yn. You were pushing yourself because you love what you do, and that’s something to be proud of. But we need to take care of you now, okay?”

Lily appeared in the doorway then, a concerned expression on her face as she held a bag with Yn’s things. “How is she?” Lily asked, walking toward them.

“She’s okay. Just a bit shaken,” Oscar replied, lifting Yn carefully into his arms. “Let’s get you to the car, sweetheart.”

Yn let herself relax in her father’s arms, knowing she was safe. The drive to the doctor’s office was quick, but for Yn, it felt like an eternity. She kept her eyes closed most of the time, leaning against the window, the cool glass soothing against her warm skin. Her parents exchanged quiet words in the front seat, but Yn barely heard them. Her thoughts were lost in a haze of pain, worry, and the overwhelming sense that she had somehow failed herself.

When they arrived at the doctor’s office, Oscar and Lily remained by Yn’s side, just as they had promised. The doctor, a calm woman with short brown hair, took one look at Yn’s feet and immediately led them to an examination room.

“You’ve got some serious damage here,” the doctor said, her voice calm but serious. “It looks like a combination of overuse and improper care. We’ll need to clean these up, and you’ll be on rest for a while.”

Yn nodded, a lump in her throat. It felt so surreal to be in this position—laying on a doctor’s table instead of dancing across the studio floor.

Oscar and Lily stayed close by, holding her hands, their support unwavering as the doctor carefully cleaned and bandaged Yn’s feet. The process felt long, but eventually, it was over. The doctor gave them instructions for aftercare and advised Yn to take at least two weeks off from dancing, longer if the pain persisted.

Once they were back in the car, Oscar turned to Yn with a soft smile. “You’ve done well, sweetheart. You’re going to heal, and when you do, we’ll get you back in the studio. But right now, your health comes first.”

Yn’s eyes filled with tears once again. “I don’t want to stop dancing, Dad. It’s everything to me.”

“I know,” Lily said softly, her voice full of understanding. “But sometimes, taking a break is the best thing you can do for yourself. We’re proud of you, Yn. No matter what.”

Yn smiled through her tears, grateful for her parents’ endless love and support. With them by her side, she knew she could face anything.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you. I also now write for Alex Albon and Pierre Gasly.

-🩷🎀

[rcmclachlan]

Do y'all ever think about the night Buck and Tommy first had sex and how Tommy slid his briefs down and Buck took one look at his hard wet dick and burst out laughing but Tommy didn't have a chance to feel hurt about it because Buck was wide-eyed and shocked and fascinated like "Oh shit, this is what they mean by monster cock I guess because there's no way I'm going to be able to fit even a quarter of that in my mouth, is this why your jeans are always so loose, I bet my thumb and my middle finger won't even touch when I hold it, how are you still conscious like at least 4/5ths of all the blood in your body has to be in that thing, have you ever knocked shampoo bottles off the side of the shower with it, how much does it weigh, wait I have a tape measure around here somewhere I want circumference numbers don't go anywhere!" while Tommy was standing there absolutely baffled and still turned on for some reason while Buck rummaged around in his little tool kit hard as a rock and babbling about how a dick that big had to noticeably affect Tommy's center of gravity?

[imyourjoysims2aspiration]

4t2 Conversion of Joliebean & Arethabee’s Pink Ribbons (-ish) Collection

My first successful clothing conversion set!! This was fun to convert but my lord there were some bumps along the ride

As the title says it’s joliebean and arethabee pink ribbons set from the sims 4 for the sims 2 !!

So not ALL of the pieces have been converted but they are in the works

I want to preface that I’m still a beginner so this is not a pro 4t2 converter collection

And very disappointing adding morphs was the biggest issue, the mesh tool kit auto morphs was really fucking me over and wouldn’t show. No morphs as a result of this :c So if anyone wants to help with this issue I would be eternally grateful (slide into my dms as they're always open) !

Edit: I figured out how to do morphs !! They are coming very soon 💕

!! Update: Morphs are done !! The tops and dress have both morph states but the bottoms have only the fat morph. Also the cherry coke jeans have some MAJOR clipping issues on both body types. I've tried re-doing the mesh but, in game there is still clipping. I'll try to figure out what's causing this but as of now i have no clue :/ !!

!! The download link has been updated !!

All that yapping aside under the cut is the download link and info about each item and also everything is af only !

! pls let me know if you run into any issues !

[credits: @joliebean @arethabee @jius-sims]

DOWNLOAD: SFS

Clara dress

6k poly total

30 swatches

paired with jius' suede ballet flats originally converted by @nonsensical-pixels ( not the exact same bc i had to tweak them for the dress )

✧. ┊    

Cherry Coke bottom

10k poly total

12 swatches

paired with jius' double-strap mary janes

✧. ┊    

Whimsical top

2k poly

30 swatches

✧. ┊    

Flirtatious bottom

10.6k poly

30 swatches

paired with jius';' double-strap mary janes

✧. ┊    

Lizzie skirt

4.8k poly

12 swatches

✧. ┊    

Clara top

1.5k poly

30 swatches

✧. ┊    

[cocoelleansims]

Freshen Up Vanity Mesh OverRide

this is an override of the tools used in the Freshen Up interaction on the Vanity Table. This changes the lipstick, nail file, and spray to a more realistic modern make up version.

Vintage Glamour or Modern Luxe Kit Required

3 New Realistic Mesh Replacements

I know some creators have done a nail file override so if you want to mix and match I've kept them seperate instead of merging

Meshed+Textured by me

Will Conflict with any other override that takes over the nail file, perfume, or lip stick meshes used in the freshen up interaction, popular apply make up overrides like this Fenty one will still work with this override. I plan to make my own mesh overrides for the apply make up meshes but until then others are safe to use as long as they dont take over these three objects.

Early Access, Public 04.19

Find Here

[sugurusladyknightt]

➺ husband!sukuna x reader (1/2)

"you're mad at me."

you huff through your nose, your reflection in the mirror is an angry one and rightfully so. eyes closed you take a moment to collect yourself, to loosen your clenched jaw, and just breathe.

"'you're mad at me', says the idiot man" you say, eyes intent on not leaving your reflection in the mirror, " 'of course i'm mad at you' replies the idiot man's spouse." matter of factly, mock sympathy clear in your voice, before it turns cold. "for last night i discovered my idiot man husband who was terribly hurt by i'm not even sure what, standing in the bathroom trying to tend to his wound with tools that are inadequate to tend to those sorts of wounds.'"

the comb in your hands now being held like it is something between an accusing finger and a weapon ready to attack. still your eyes do not leave their reflection in the mirror before you.

sukuna thinks not having you speak to him, not having you look at him since last night, is lethal weapon enough.

"and when idiot spouse sees this, she feels a surge of very very many emotions of worry and sadness and anger and confusion and concern and yet, idiot man plays her the fool. no explanation,- "

"baby, please"

you sound exasperated, frantic; and him desperate.

"nothing, nothing at all to ease her worries. like she is someone he simply owes nothing too. like she isn't the one he's married to. it is possible that idiot man thinks his wife will simply forget. and then what does idiot man do you ask? well idiot man does just as his name suggests and acts as if he has no idea what is going on, he acts like an idiot, and continues to state plainly, pathetically, uselessly, 'you're mad at me.'"

you turn to look at him and you look pained. and god does he feel that way too. it's hidden well by your hardened exterior, furrowed brows, cold voice, and angry expression, but sukuna has come far past the point of being fooled by the expression you wear on your face — your eyes tell. they always do.

he moves from where he stands to take to your side, his place, sat next to you. his movements stiff, not as smooth as usual but still his natural effortlessness somehow manages to shine through. his knees touching yours almost shyly, and his hands curled in his lap, clasped together tightly. he wants to hold yours. you can tell, though make no movement to realize that desire. that need. neither of you move. but you wait for him.

it's quite strange to see sukuna of all people like this; it doesn't happen very often. crimson eyes down cast and his lips seemingly unable to decide whether they want to part and speak to you or to press themselves into a thin line and say nothing at all.

moments and moments pass and he gives you nothing. you feel your chest as it fills with air and slowly deflates, deeep breathe.

you stand from your place and move to your bed, you need some sleep right now. you miss it with your back turned to him as you walk. his form falls further, longing for you so dearly when your so close.

his ego and pride aside; those things have no room in his mind, not when he is with you. he didn't need to be those things with you, he did not have to be endlessly strong. he did not have to be so guarded and he doesn't want to be. he doesn't want you to be that way around him either.

shit, he hadn't meant for this.

last night, sukuna had come home with a nasty gash through his his side. it was late and you were asleep, and he was tired. so tired. the last thing he needed was to have to wait in a hospital for hours to receive care when he could do it here, at home, by himself, close to you.

so there he is, lights on in the bathroom as he's standing there trying to stitch himself up with the little sewing kit you kept in the medicine cabinet and a pair of kitchen scissors. it was a bloody affair, jaw clenched through the pain. his head was thrown back, sharp exhales, and eyes shut so tight. bloodied toilet paper everywhere. and that's right when you just so happen to walk in.

(perfect timing as always.)

sukuna thinking it's between kinda funny, incredibly scary, and so impressive how you always manage to find him in the most unfortunate and compromising of situations.

he must've been louder than he'd thought. your sleepy form goes rigid as your eyes adjust to the light and you register the sight before you.

your husband, standing with his back against one of the walls of the small room, bloodied hands are positioned close to the wound in his side, one holding the needle and thread, dripping in his blood. the silver band he wears so proudly on his left hand is too.

your eyes frantically darting everywhere, finally landing on his wide crimson eyes staring right back at you. they match the color of the blood soaking his hands and smeared on his face and nearly everything else in the bathroom.

if the circumstances were different, if it wasn't for you he gaping hole in his side, you'd think it's quite a picturesque view. but right now, he looks like a man who was just caught doing a horrible job of trying to sew himself together at midnight by his wife, who by the way, also just had her sleep disturbed by him.

your eyes go from wide with shock and confusion to being filled with worry and concern to focused and determined. the transformation so quick, it'd be easy for anyone else to miss.

you take his hand in yours and lead him to sit on the lid of the toilet almost as quick. pulling the hand covering the gash away from it so you can examine it without disruption .

it's a few too many inches long for your liking, right down the side of his tattooed torso. well sure, he's been hurt before, purple and blue bruises on his face, bloody cracked knuckles, some scratches every so often. you know who you married, you've had to sew and patch him up before but really it was nothing major, nothing in comparison to this.

"don't move, i'll only be a moment."

you've left to grab the first aid box you have, it isn't ideal, but better than what he's been doing. it's all you have to work with for now, and so you'll just have to do with it.

once back, you settle between his thighs and start opening and removing the stitches he's sewn in so that you can clean it up, disinfect it, before sewing it up properly, and wrapping him up.

your work is diligent and quite. eyes hardly ever leaving their current subject of interest. he's quiet too, crimson eyes don't leave you. in the past, when you've found yourself in these situations, he'd be teasing or making those quick-witted remarks of his, but not tonight. he can't bring himself to.

you do your best, willing your hands not to tremble as you work; there's so much blood. you can see his hands clenched atop his thighs, knuckles going white. his muscles flinching at the burn and sting of the disinfectant and the cold of the needle repeatedly piercing his aching skin.

you know he's tired, you are too. but sleep is so far form your mind right now. you place a hand on his thighs and squeeze gently, hoping your grip is steadying to him. something to keep him grounded. something to convey the words you don't have the strength to announce at the moment but still, you want him to hear them.

once you're done, you let out a slow, shaky breathe. one of relief. quickly moving to the sink to wash your hands and dry your hands before wrapping him up in clean gauze. the first few layers bloody quick, but you continue until it is enough, looking up at him in question to ensure it isn't too tight before you secure it in place.

your hands gently drag up and down his sides before they settle of his tights to push yourself up, only then do you meet his eyes properly. he feels like it's his first time seeing you all over again. its not enough, eyes darting away far too quick. its far too fleeting a moment for him to properly telepathically convey his thoughts to you through the eye contact. girl wtf are you talking abt??

you pack up the first aid kid setting it on the counter, leaving to grab him a clean shirt from the closet setting it on the counter as well, and your off to bed. not another word to him, not another glance. you don't even know that you want to know what happen. he feels like a child how'd just been scolded. his body far too large for him in this moment.

sukuna slips the shirt over his head, and moves carefully when he's fitting the rest of it over his body. it was pretty bad, he can't even pretend that this isn't all that big of a deal. he knew, your actions were only coming from a place of concern for his wellbeing and that made this all that much worse. he feels likes he's been drinking hot sand instead of water.

he looks at himself in the mirror, bloodied sink under him. sighh. there's not much else he can do.

he peaks his head out the bathroom first, then the rest of him emerges from behind his fortified shield. he's met with the sight of you, well.. kinda. he's met with the sight of a lump under the blankets he knows is you.

your back facing his side of the bed, and he's sitting on the edge of it. there's an air of awkwardness, as he settles under the covers, his eyes trained on your back. sukuna wants so badly to shuffle close to you and lay his head on your pillow, to hold your hand in his and tangle your legs together under the covers, but he doesn't. he can bring himself to.

so he just stares at you longingly, he stares at you like you're hundreds of kilometres away. and all he can hope for is that tomorrow, when he wakes up with you, it'll be better.

that he'll be better.

better for you.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[demilypyro]

Honestly I never liked Starline much. As far as IDW's original characters went, he was my least favorite. For a long time, he was just Eggman's overeager sidekick, and I didn't really see what he was supposed to add. But supposedly, Surge and Kit were planned characters right from the very start of the comic's run. And if that's true, it reframes Starline's character a lot.

If the goal all along was to eventually introduce Surge and Kit into the plot, then it makes sense they needed to introduce a new character to create them. Because a lot of the drama of their characters comes from their trauma. They were kidnapped, tortured and brainwashed, and who they were before that is unknown. The only person who knows their pasts is Starline. And in the very same issue that fully introduces Surge and Kit into the series, issue 50, Starline gets summarily killed off. It's been 24 issues since, and there's been no sign of him. The only person who knows their pasts is gone.

Through this lens, the utility of Starline's character becomes very clear. They wanted to introduce Surge and Kit, but needed to build towards them. They had to justify their existence in the narrative with the proper drama. Erasing their past was one way to do this, but this necessitates another character entirely. Someone needed to create them, and that person would need to go away. It couldn't be Eggman, since Eggman will always survive and return eventually. But an entirely original character could freely be killed off. Still, his influence could continue to haunt Surge and Kit.

Starline's arc was one of lost faith. He began by idolizing Eggman and wanting to please him. But then he was shocked by Eggman's seeming unwillingness to just... win. Eggman didn't want to kill Sonic before proving his full superiority by beating him fairly, and Starline eventually lost his admiration for the man. This was established quite early, as early as issue 14, so we can tell these seeds were planted with his future arc in mind.

Rather than helping Eggman, it became Starline's goal to surpass Eggman, by breaking the narrative stalemate between the heroes and villains. Endless stories like that of Sonic require that the hero always win, but the villain always survive and return. He wanted to break that status quo, what he called The Sonic Cycle. What he didn't realize was how expendable he is as a character.

As a character stuck inside the narrative, he could see the cycle, but he didn't see why it existed: editorial oversight. The powers that be would never allow Sonic or Eggman to die. He never had the narrative importance to accomplish this. He was only ever a means to an end, a narrative tool to introduce Surge and Kit. That would be his only lasting legacy. And there's tragedy in that. But he was also downright awful, so I can't say I feel sorry for him.

In the end, he was another victim of The Sonic Cycle, outlived by his creations, who have far more narrative potential. Get dunked on.

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Him again (Wendy Carter)

[kingdom-carer]

How to regress when you’ve literally never done it and you have no idea what to expect (or it’s been a while)

*turns around in chair like Captain America* so ……. you wanna be tiny.

Awesome! :D

Voluntary regression, when done intentionally, can be immensely fun and healing. Let’s get you set up for success.

Step 1: Set Your Goals

Your goal should never be “to regress” - it may not happen. You may spend all of your time just age dreaming (acting small with your big brain still in). You need to be okay with that.

The reason you’re regressing isn’t the same as your goal. “Because I’m traumatized,” “for fun,” and “for chronic pain” are all valid reasons, but they don’t provide you with the framework for healing that we’re looking for.

Here are some specific, achievable goals:

“I want to relax and have uninterrupted fun after a long day.”

“I want to reparent my inner child through affirmation work, gentle parenting, and rules for self-care.”

“I want to work through trauma I’ve experienced through play so I can experiment with new outcomes for tough situations.”

“I want to complete easy tasks/assignments to give myself a sense of pride and accomplishment.”

“I want to allow myself to trust and be cared for in a way that I am usually resistant to.”

“I want to allow Jesus to speak to me when I feel most vulnerable and receptive to His kindness.”

“I want to improve my self/care habits by making them fun and digestible.”

“I want to revisit childhood/deep-rooted fears so I can work through them with effective coping mechanisms, like journaling.”

Step 2: Selecting Your Tools

Here, you might have seen lists of things that people like to use when they’re little, but rarely do they explain why they like to use them. These lists also may not resonate with older or alternative regressors.

So instead, I will give you categories of things that I believe are relevant to regression, and you fill decide what satisfies it best for you.

Something to wear: do you have clothing that is easy and comfortable to move around in, makes you feel good to wear, and/or gives you sensory input you crave?

Something to watch: do you know of a show, movie, or YouTube channel that holds good memories for you? Is there one out there that piques your interest? It doesn’t have to be “kid-friendly,” but its effect should be comfort and peace, not intellectual or emotional strain. We are not looking for challenge - that is for developing your grownup brain. Many regressors prefer kids media for this reason.

Something to do (with your hands): Stimulating senses other than sight is vital for grounding, especially in today’s online world … and, considering the nature of the work we are doing, you may need it. Painting, sensory sand, going to the beach, swimming, making music, woodworking, crocheting, polymer clay, diamond painting, puzzles, coloring books, and more can all bring out your inner child. Again, we are looking for joy, not challenge; perhaps your local dollar store has a craft kit!

Something to read: are you a scientist who loves learning about animals? A horror fan who loves spooky tales? Do you remember a series from your childhood that brought you joy? Reading is a great way to escape into a simpler world and evade screens, especially if it’s crafted without profanity or triggering subjects. Children’s books may also minister to you in ways that adults failed, such as teaching emotional regulation, socialization, and how to fight common fears.

Something to hold: plushies have been proven to be beneficial for mental health, but a companion doesn’t have to be stuffed! Action figures, dolls, and other friends can be thrifted, bought, or dug up from closets. They provide sounding boards for scary thoughts that get less scary when said aloud, companionship during play, travel, or sleep, and serve as willing recipients of your creative outputs (bracelets, clothing, drawings, etc). And, when you need a hug, your favorite toy can be right there with you in the absence of a human friend.

Something to nibble: food is fuel for the body, but it is also love. Choose foods that are nutritious and fun, just like you’d give a child. My personal faves are Slim Jim’s, pepperoni, berries, nuts, dairy, and veggies with dip. Treats are great too, but spend your tummy bank on nutritionally valuable food first! Regressors also find fun in experimenting with different vessels for food and drinks, like crazy straws, bottles, ZooPals plates, or character dining sets.

Something to play with: ‘play’ has many definitions and types. Below is a short list of types of play. No matter if you like toys or not, gather objects or activities that encourage play.

Symbolic play - using one object to represent another (i.e. a flower becomes a wand - try blocks or play scarves)

Locomotor play - moving play (try roller skates, online exercises/dance classes, or small exercise trampolines)

Creative play - invoking a desired or experimental outcome (try Legos and art supplies)

Deep play and rough-and-tumble play - play that involves bodily risk and movement (try hiking, rock climbing, or swimming)

Dramatic play - orchestrating play without personal involvement (“setting up” elaborate scenes with toys was a big part of my childhood play! Try small toys and accessories like Calico Critters, stuffed animals, or dolls)

Exploratory play - play to gain information (try boxed or homemade science experiments, or simply asking, “I wonder what happens if I …?”)

Fantasy and imaginative play - playing in a way that is unlikely to occur in real life and/or the rules have changed (try dressing up to be a superhero, royalty, animal, etc)

Mastery play - bringing a task to completion (build a campfire, dig holes in sand to fill with water, complete a video game level, etc)

Object play - manipulating objects to learn more about them (common in developing babies and autistic stimming; try fidget toys)

Socio-dramatic play - taking on a role that involves social interaction (I.e. playing house or doctor)

Somewhere to go: novelty can be hugely effective in delighting your inner child. Try hanging out in the backyard, going to a park/museum/aquarium, taking yourself on a “little” shopping spree with a set budget, going to a theme park/state fair, or checking out kids media from your local library. Since you are exiting your safe space, you must be mindful of those around you. This is why I usually recommend this to those who know they will only be age dreaming, unless they are completely alone. For your safety, please do not involve anyone who has not consented in your regression.

Something to see: if you can, decorate your safe space or a portion of your safe space in a way that makes your inner child happy. Try changing your phone wallpaper, collecting figures, displaying stuffies on your bed, putting up wall stickers or drawings you’ve made, or changing your bed sheets.

A note on pacifiers: pacis made for adults are a great way to abate thumb-sucking and unhealthy oral stims. They will shift your teeth only if you use them excessively; try limiting use to an hour at a time, and always wear your retainer if you have one. If you feel pain, stop. Disassemble and clean immediately after use.

A note on diapers: I personally do not use diapers because I don’t want or need them, but should you choose differently, there are lots of creators who have more information on them. Most importantly, they are not shameful.

Step 3: Meeting Your Inner Child

How do you know when you’ve regressed?

When play takes over.

When you find yourself fully engaged in what’s in front of you, finding captivation in the simplest things, you are regressed. It isn’t some magical transformation - you’re just revising a part of you that has always been there, latent. It is an unlocking of childhood whimsy … a state of being easily awed.

Thoughts may simplify; adult reasoning for comfort objects may reduce to a petulant mine. Anxious spirals may be replaced by a simple mama, I’m scared. Thoughtful analyses of character arcs and subplots may sound more like yay, ponies!

If you have an internal monologue, it may disappear, replaced with more primal emotions like “angry” or “scared” or “happy” or “calm.” There have been many times that my husband has asked little me what’s wrong, but instead of words, only sobs make it out of my mouth. Then, when he holds me, a warmth I can’t name fills my chest and makes me sleepy.

What is your inner child like? Are they more or less …

Sensitive?

Chatty?

Energetic?

Creative?

Impulsive?

Experimental?

Outspoken?

Stubborn?

Relaxed?

Giggly?

Curious?

Focused?

Defiant?

Angry?

Expressive?

Your inner child, like all children, is subject to fits and flights of fancy. This is normal! Love them as you would love a normal child.

Step Four: Caring For The Bunchkin

Since our goal is not to regress, we have the freedom to take a third-person point of view while we are in our safe space, check in on ourselves, and see how we are doing.

If your goal is to heal, take things slow. Choose one activity at a time that allows you to explore your deeper thoughts, and allow ample room for fun and relaxation.

Instead of focusing on your trauma and hurt, start by asking yourself - “what are my deepest desires? What am I lacking? What is important to me? What can I give myself that I did not receive?”

Kids’ “About Me” worksheets are a great place to start, since there are no wrong answers. As you get more comfortable being small, try making or completing worksheets that ask the weightier questions.

Caring for with your inner child can be as simple as imagining them like another person. For example:

If you are shameful of your desire to connect with an old fandom, ask yourself why that might be. Did someone tell you that it was shameful? Did you have a bad experience in that fandom? Were you at a turbulent point of your life? What might you say to a child experiencing these emotions now?

If you are reluctant to make noise or take up space, ask yourself why. Did someone tell you that you were ‘too much?’ Were you afraid to be judged? Did someone punish you for getting in their way? What would you say to a child afraid to take up space in your presence?

If you are distressed at the idea of stimming openly while small, ask yourself why. Did someone - or life experience - teach you to mask? Are you afraid of being judged as a “faker?” Are you afraid of looking or feeling incapable in some way? What would you say to a child who is afraid to stim?

If you are upset with yourself for reacting to a trigger, ask yourself why. Do you feel like you should be more healed, or more in control of yourself? Are you afraid of slipping back towards a state you used to be in? Are you afraid of re-experiencing trauma?

What would you say and do for a child who struggles with a trigger?

Showing your little self compassion and modeling joy from an adult headspace is vital. Don’t say anything to your inner child that you wouldn’t say to an actual child.

You may not be quite ready to believe the healing truths you have learned when you are big, but putting them into practice when you are small is a great way to soothe yourself from the inside out.

(I filled up my star chart by making my bed each day! Good job, me! I worked so hard, and now I get a treat!)

(I did a drawing all by myself! I can put it on my fridge now. Wow, I’m so glad I made something today.)

(I went outside, and there are so many cool things to see! What an awesome world I live in.)

Healing can be tough, but it’s so fantastic. It all starts with being kind to yourself. You can do it!

Step 5 - Putting Out Fires

Oh dear, something went wrong, and now a tantrum is afoot. Or a meltdown. Or a flashback. What do we do?

Hold up your fingers like birthday candles and blow them out to encourage deep breathing.

Play a song that makes you feel good, and dance if you can. Physical movement is your best antidote.

Name 5 things you can see, 4 you can touch, 3 you can hear, 2 you can smell, and 1 you can taste.

Repeat your affirmations aloud. There is power in hearing something that isn’t your own mental hurricane. “I am loved, I am safe, I am going to be okay.”

Assign the trigger to a stuffie (don’t worry, they are willing participants!). Say, “hey, wait a minute, why should you be in charge? These are MY thoughts! Take that! And that! And that!” Toss your stuffie around and get those crazy thoughts away from both of you!

Assign the trigger to a stuffie, and pretend they are you. What would you say to calm them down and tell them you are here for them?

Get a change of scenery. Go outside, go somewhere else, take a shower or bubble bath.

Scribble your feelings on paper. No, really, go ham. Break some crayons. Then crumple them, tear them, and throw them away.

Most importantly - don’t be mad at yourself.

The debrief - what can we do for next time?

Handle triggers with care, but don’t be afraid of the feelings that accompany them. There is an unmet need somewhere in your soul - what is it, and how can you meet it?

Journaling and affirmations - record what happened and why you think it happened, and then write kind things to and about yourself.

“Do it scared” - push past the lies you have been told about yourself and enjoy things anyway.

I am a Christian, and I live by the phrase: “if it isn’t your reality, make it your prayer.” Even if you don’t believe now that you are safe, loved, and capable, saying these things to yourself constantly will help them be realized.

Obviously, avoiding negative language about yourself in your adult life is the other half of the pizza. Your inner child is doing work for adult you, too! Don’t undermine it!

The Wrap Up

Well, Kiddo, I’m so glad you’re taking this step in your healing journey. A few things to remember before you go:

You may grow out of regression! That’s good! It’s a sign that your inner child is happy and content.

You may never grow out of regression. That’s okay! Your inner child can get love all your life!

Your regression is your business. You don’t have to tell anyone about it if you don’t want to. Choose who you tell very carefully.

Ignore the haters. You’re doing great.

Bye, Kiddo! You are so loved!! 🥰

[fuctacles]

A gorgeous man walks into a dressing room

for @genderthings Eddie's Gender Week prompt "stage" Steddie | T | 1125 | genderqueer/gender non conforming Eddie | famous Eddie, hair stylist (and drag queen) Steve, first meeting, pre-relationship | Ao3

The new hair stylist walks in on Eddie applying lipstick. Kudos to him, he takes it in stride, placing his bag on the clean area in front of one of the mirrors. 

"The doors were open, so I hope it's okay I just walked in," he says with a tilt of a question in his voice. 

Eddie hums, focused on sharpening the edges around his lips. 

"I'm the new hair stylist, Steve Harrington," the guy introduces himself. "You must be Eddie, right?"

"Ah-hah," Eddie makes an affirmative sound. 

"How can I refer to you?"

"Just Eddie is okay, but if you want to keep it more professional, something like chief or captain is fine. Do not call me boss," Eddie says, moving away from the mirror to gauge the symmetry and not happy with the results so far. 

"No, I mean, do you want to be addressed as a guy? Or something different."

Eddie sometimes forgets that he's in the creative field now, and a lot of other people he meets are more open to gender fuckery and general LGBT themes. They finally look at the new guy, someone they'd usually dismiss as gorgeous but straight, if not for the pearl necklace around his neck. 

"I'm fine with anything, but you can call me anytime."

The silence lingers and as Steve's look sours, Eddie's lips turn up into a grin. 

"What?! It's a good line!" 

"Sure is," Steve rolls his eyes. "Do you need help with that?" he points to the lipstick still clutched in Eddie's hand. "I do drag on the weekends." 

Eddie blanks for long enough for Steve to produce a small make up brush out of somewhere, and pry the lipstick out of his hand. He dabs the brush against the dark red pigment. 

"The secret of sharp edges is using a brush," he explains softly. "It gives you better control of the lines."

Eddie can't say shit when Steve's finger gently holds his chin while he's applying the lipstick in small, precise strokes. He steps back, fixes something, and steps back again before nodding to himself.

"I thinks it's okay now." 

Eddie turns to the mirror to examine their perfectly painted, symmetrical lips. They look up at Steve's reflection. 

"Can you do my eyes, too?" 

Steve can, and gives Eddie an impressive, bold eye make up, apologizing all the time that it's "too draggy". Eddie slaps him about it, and informs him that it's perfect. 

When Corroded Coffin's actual stylist come into the dress room, they just groan at the sight of Eddie's make up and turn their anger at Steve. For a second, the thinks he's going to be fired, but then...

"Give her an updo, something messy but feminine to match the face," the person instructs. Steve only nods to that. "I'll go pick something in the wardrobe."

Steve is a little terrified, but Eddie only beams at him.

"She likes you!" he exclaims happily, gently slapping at Steve's chest. 

"Uh, she didn't seem happy," Steve protests gently, reaching for his actual hair styling kit. 

"Don't worry about it," Eddie waves their hand. "Chrissy is always stressed before a performance, but she likes a challenge. We've been friends forever, so I'd know."

"Okay." Steve pushes Eddie gently so he'll rest against the back of the chair, and turns him to face the mirror, then ties his tool belt around his waist. "I'll trust you on that. Now, I'll try to be gentle, but tell me if I pull too hard." 

Eddie's hair is a bit of a struggle, since the initial plan was to just tease it as usual and let it be. But Steve turns out to be an expert enough to brush it out and up tying it into a high ponytail, with some strands framing his face. He even takes extra time to curl them and set them in place with hair spray. 

When he takes a step back to take in his work, his eyes shine. Not only was he proud with his work, but his model was more than good looking, the make up and hairdo enhancing their features. Their eyes catch in the mirror reflection, but before any of them can say anything, Chrissy is back, carrying a handful of dark fabric. 

"I got a few outfits for you to try on. Steve, could you take care of Gareth's hair?"

"On it!"

Eddie gives him a smile and a finger wave through the mirror, before Chrissy descends on them with the clothing she's picked. Steve doesn't have time to look in their direction, curling Gareth's hair and then giving each of the members a simple version of Eddie's eye to match it. The impromptu make over must have put them behind schedule, because everyone is rushing somewhere before Steve can take a proper look at the end product.

It's only after the lights dim that he's ushered by Chrissy to a booth where the rest of the staff is either taking a break or keeping an eye on their work. As part of the styling team, Steve is on the look out for any hair or wardrobe malfunctions that might need touching up during the set. 

Gareth comes out first, setting a beat with his drums for the others to walk out to. They're dressed pretty much the same as usual, except for Eddie, whose jeans were swapped with a long skirt, its side slits so high the whole thigh is pretty much on display. 

Steve briefly wonders what kind of underwear they're wearing for it not to be visible. 

"Hello Chicago!" Eddie greets the audience through the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, and..." he makes a dramatic pause, eyes scanning the crowd. "Others. A gorgeous man walked into my dressing room today and did my make up." They flip their hair back and angle their face left and right. "What do we think?" The crowd goes wild and Eddie laughs. "Me too. It goes to show, for the best make up and hair tips, go to a drag queen." With another loud cheer from the crowd, Eddie sticks out their tongue playfully and starts off the first song.

They look stunning, with the strands of hair framing their painted face and the long pale legs wearing heavy leather boots. Steve feels like a fraud, because he's getting paid to make the band presentable, but really, Eddie's beauty is doing most of the work for him.

"Did Eddie just call me gorgeous?" he asks absentmindedly, slowly processing everything he's taking in. 

To his right, Chrissy sighs. 

"Please don't take it to HR," she says. 

"What?" Steve gives her a short, surprised glance. "No. No. Unless, there's something against dating the band in my contract?"

beloveds: @blasvemous @wheneverfeasible @phantomcat94

[gilbertscurls]

Hurt Again ➵ Matt Sturniolo

summary: matt gets hurt. again.

You rushed through the door, your heart pounding in your chest. Chris had called you, sounding panicked, but it was Matt’s name he’d dropped—Matt was hurt, again.

You found Matt in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, clutching his side with a blood-stained towel. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed in discomfort, and even though he tried to act tough, you could see the pain etched on his face.

“Matt!” You dropped your bag and rushed to his side, panic clear in your voice. “You’re hurt? Why are you always hurt?”

Matt, trying to keep his usual cool exterior intact, looked up with a half-smirk. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? You’re bleeding!” You grabbed the towel from him to check the wound, and sure enough, there was a nasty gash running along his ribcage. He winced but said nothing.

“What happened?” you demanded, voice tight with worry as you grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet. “And don’t even try to tell me it was nothing.”

Matt sighed, leaning against the counter. “I was trying to fix the shelf in my room. It’s been loose for a while. Didn’t realize it was that loose, though. Came down with half my tools.”

You shook your head, your hands moving quickly to clean the wound. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You could’ve called for help, you know.”

“I didn’t think I’d need it,” he muttered, his tone defensive but softened by the pain.

You shot him a look, your eyes narrowing. “Of course you didn’t.”

The room fell into a tense silence as you worked, carefully cleaning the gash and applying pressure. Matt, as usual, was trying to act like it didn’t bother him, but you could see his jaw tighten every time you pressed down on the wound.

After a few moments, you sighed, your voice softer now. “Why is it always you, Matt? Why are you always hurt?”

Matt glanced down, his expression hard to read. He wasn’t great at opening up, even to you, but there was something in the way you asked that made him pause. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just unlucky.”

You looked up at him, frustration and concern warring in your expression. “Or maybe you’re too stubborn for your own good. You don’t always have to do everything by yourself, you know?”

He huffed, trying to shrug it off. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Your voice cracked slightly, the worry you’d been holding back leaking through. “You’re always hurt, Matt. Whether it’s stuff like this or keeping everything bottled up. You don’t let anyone help you.”

Matt met your gaze, and for once, his usual walls seemed to falter. “I’m not trying to be a hero. I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Your hands stilled for a moment as you processed his words. You’d known Matt long enough to understand that he wasn’t great at accepting help, but hearing him admit it—hearing the vulnerability in his voice—hit you harder than you expected.

“You’re not a burden,” you said softly, placing a bandage over the wound. “You never have been.”

Matt looked away, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I don’t know how to… let people in. Not like you do.”

You smiled, despite the situation. “I know. But maybe you could try? You don’t always have to be the tough guy. It’s okay to let people care about you.”

For a moment, Matt didn’t say anything, just stood there as you finished patching him up. When you were done, you stepped back, your eyes searching his face for some sign that he was listening.

Finally, he sighed, his defenses lowering. “I’ll try.”

You smiled, the warmth in your eyes chasing away the tension that had been building. “Good. Because the next time you try to take on the world by yourself and end up hurt, I’m going to kill you.”

Matt chuckled, wincing slightly as he adjusted his stance. “Deal.”

You stood there for a moment, the usual distance between you replaced by a quiet understanding. Matt wasn’t one to show his emotions easily, and you had always known that, but now—now, you felt like maybe you were finally starting to bridge that gap.

“You don’t have to keep getting hurt to prove you’re strong, you know,” you said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

Matt met your eyes, and for once, there was no smirk, no sarcastic comment. Just a quiet, genuine look that said more than his words ever could.

“I know,” he murmured. “And thanks… for always being there.”

You smiled, your heart swelling a little at his rare display of vulnerability. “Always.”

And maybe, just maybe, Matt would finally start letting you in.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove

[kismetlotts]

cw: mirror kink, “good girl”, reader gets fingered

John Price was a mad man; a fucking machine. Built like a superhero, covered in dirt with that sexy beard of his but god damn you’d let him do the unspeakable to you.

He could fuck for hours, for nights- you swore if he had enough energy he could go on for days. But one thing he struggled to do was finger you.

You felt a bit embarrassed to ask why as you always assured him it felt good but the disgruntled expression and sigh he makes when he pulls out of you made you worry. You began to wonder if it was something wrong with you and that’s the reason why.

In your head it made sense, him making it plainly obvious he didn’t want to do it every-time it was over but your mind always made something up to contradict your theory.

If he hated it so much why did he enjoy eating you out? Why would he throw you in the bed, staring at your pussy hungry before attacking your clit fast and hard like the military captain he is? And if he hated fingering you so much why did he offer?

Why did he do that?

You stretched your legs out under your office chair before packing your bag and leaving work, on your way home. Tonight was the night you were going to ask him, embarrassing or not. You couldn’t let your dwelling and overthinking cluster up your head any longer, it was time.

You opened the gate to your rustic home and headed for the big door. The house you two had bought was quiet old and elegant and you’d loved it so much, decorating the decaying walls and overgrown garden and making it your own. You loved the style and it made you feel cozy, this was your dream house.

The door shut behind you and the farmilliar scent of vanilla candles and firewood cascaded through the walls as the fire cracked beside you. You hung up your coat and dumped your bag on the floor.

“Baby? Where are you?” You called and after hearing a couple strained grunts you heard Price yell back a ‘Here’ from upstairs. Curiosity flooded your mind and you jogged up the stairs and pushed open your bedroom door to see him crouched on the floor, tool kit sprawled behind him and a screw driver in his hand.

“What the fuck is that?” The laughter of your voice falling through as you store at the mirror nailed to the wall, it was huge. Something out of a ballet studio and you turned back to him, heavy breathing and whipping the sweat off of his pink face.

“Thought you’d like it, pretty big though.” Yeah, just a little. Head to toe taking all the room and right in-front of the bed, how amazing. Cant wait to wake up to my own reflection.

“Doesn’t exactly go with the rustic design of the house does it?” But all he did was laugh and pull you closer, giving you a sloppy but loving kiss on the lips as you tried to wriggle away. His hands clasped around you waist and you remembered what you were going to ask him. Your mouth fell ajar but before you could speak he was dragging along the wide wooden chair to sit on before placing it infront of the mirror and take a seat.

“Want to know what it’s for?” He asked, words laced with something you couldn’t put your tongue on but you hesitantly nodded, wondering why he bought this. It must’ve costed a lot, and it was rather beautiful, it was as clear as glass. Why did he get this.

Price smirked letting a deep chuckle through his tight lips before patting his laps for you to sit. You sat down hesitantly and glacéd in the mirror at you two, his hands around your waist, just above your black skirt and eyes locked onto you. His left hand trailed up towards your neck sending tingles down your body and dampening your panties again. His other creeping closer down and rubbed your thigh soothingly.

“When I finger you love, I struggle a lot. I know you notice and I want to let you know why I struggle.” His hand reached your neck just below your chin and he tilted your neck back so your head laid on his strong shoulder, still looking at yourself in the mirror, with him in control.

"I love to see my fingers inside you, your cum gushing out after i finger you, but i also love to see your little face. Your cute little scrunched eyes, mouth wide open out of pleasure.” You couldn’t fight back the small whimper you let out as his hands on your thigh slowly rose higher, slipping comfortably under your skirt.

“But darling i’m getting old now, aren’t I? It’s too hard to look up then down then up- I miss a few things and I don’t like missing.” His seductive grin send pools of lava to your stomach and your thighs tensed under his hands as his thick fingers grazed the soft fabric of your panties. Teasing you and loving every fucking second.

“But fuck, from this angle? I can see all of you, all of you at once. Your breathing, face, pussy, everything and I love it.” You shut your eyes in embarrassment and you felt your face burn while he slid your underwear down slowly and gently tapped against your precious sensitive skin.

Tracing slowly down your wet slit coating himself in your taste. He groaned at the feeling kissing your temple while his finger prodded into your entrance greedily. Next time he will take his time, next time he will have you begging for his fingers. Next time because god he couldn’t wait now.

The thickness of his finger stretched you out slightly as he thrusted it in and out of you, burning your hole slightly as he added another and another. Your moans and cries send sparks to his dick below you and you felt him harden more and more beneath you- he didn’t stop to fuck you though.

“Oh yeah darling look at you, fucking look at yourself.” His other hand stretched to your chin, tilting your face up and through tears you watched yourself be finger fucked by John. Tightening around his hand more and moaning louder as tears rolled down your cheek.

“Baby I’m going to-” You started but he shut you up shushing you quiet with a small kiss and rapid movements. His husky voice demanding you just to let yourself go.

“Come on, that’s it. Just let it all go, cum on my fingers. Good girl, oh my god you’re such a good girl.” As you came, cum squirting out of your abused hole and dripping down his sticky fingers. Your back arched and your legs started to shake and tremble against him and he just smiled. Pulling out of you and holding you for a moment, licking his fingers clean.

“Was that good darling? I loved it. So much better than usually fingering you.” You breathing calmed down slowly as you shakily nodded. John leant over giving you another loving kiss before chuckling.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to calm down and then we’ll go again, yeah?”

[fanged-fanfics]

Ok, but what if next time shadow milk comes into the dough baby's room, we show off our artistic skills by doing makeup on him? Making him as pretty as ever!

.

(And then when he leaves, black sapphire is like 'what in the world happened to your face-?'.. 'Art, my dear minion, ART')

☆ Blue Hues of Trouble — Shadow Milk & Child!Reader ☆

Genre: Semi-Fluff, Platonic || they/them pronouns for reader || Warning for mild manipulative themes

A/N: Previous part for those who need it!

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

You rummaged around in the box sitting beside you, taking out tools you honestly can't remember the name of. You knew dressing up your face was something adults did for fun, and hey, Shadow always did say you were his favorite little artist! The jester sat before you, hunced over so you could reach his face.

You applied what had to have been the third layer of blush, drawing shapes on his cheeks with eyeliner ink. He sat perfectly still, humming in contentment. While you were turned away, his eyes flicked over to the corner of your bed. The doll he'd given you was haphazardly tucked away, mismatched button eyes peeking out of the sheets. He couldn't help grinning to himself.

"Say, little one, did your papa say anything about our plush friend?" He asked, putting on the most innocent tone he could muster. You huffed, applying eye shadow to his right eyelid with a frown "No.. I gotta hide it. Papa would try to toss it away". "How cruel!" Shadow Milk gasped, his face the picture of childish hurt "All because your dear friend wanted to give you a little gift?"

You nodded sadly "Yeah... but he doesn't play with me anymore! He just talks about big stuff...". Shadow Milk shook his head, tutting as he pulled you into his arms "Poor little doll! All alone, with no one to play with" he sniffled. You couldn't help but giggle at his silly antics "Nuh-uh, I have you!". Shadow Milk grinned, but no kindness reached his eyes "That's right. You'll always have your dear friend Shadow Milk"

The doorknob clicked, and the strong hands cradling you were suddenly gone. You landed on the carpet of your room with a grunt, looking around in bewilderment. All traces of your blue and black friend had disappeared in a mere blink, as if he were never there. You felt yourself beginning to pout, but footsteps sounded of someone entering

"Little sunflower, are you here?" Pure Vanilla asked. When he saw you, his worry melted into a tiny smile. He strode over, makeup kit completely ignored as he lifted you onto your feet "I was looking all over for you. Are you alright?". "Yes, papa" you nodded. You couldn't help but notice lines on his face that hadn't been there before. Faint darkness under his eyes, circles wearing heavy on his kind face. Pure Vanilla's smile almost faltered seeing you looking at him in concern. He stood back up, patting your head "That's good. I've someone very important I'd like you to meet"

Just then, the door creaked open more. Dark Cacao was there, and right beside him stood someone new. A tall man with pale grey armor, iridescence shinning in his large sword. He placed the weapon to the side, intense gaze falling upon you. You scooted closer to Pure Vanilla, who held your hand as reassurance. This new stranger bent down, seemingly scanning every inch of your face. "May I have your hand, little one?" He asked, extending a gloved hand to you. You stepped back, looking up at Pure Vanilla. He nodded gently "Don't worry, this is a dear companion of mine. He won't hurt you. I wouldn't let him"

With some of your worries softened, you gave the stranger your hand. He closed his eyes, and a light emitted from him. The glow of it made you feel warm, and it seemed to circle your being. The stranger's brow furrowed, and he stood "I can sense it". Pure Vanilla suddenly looked afraid "You don't mean...?". The other nodded. "Their souljam has been touched by deceit. I can feel it, clouding the edge of their essence"

Dark Cacao's frown deepened, and Pure Vanilla gripped his sleeve "No.. no, no, this can't be. I've been so careful- I can't-" his breath hitched "Elder Faerie Cookie, you must help us". "Don't worry, I won't let any harm come to this doughling" Elder Faerie promised "I can watch them, in my kingdom"

"No!" You shouted, clinging to Pure Vanilla's robes. You hid your face in his stomach "Don't wanna!". With a deep frown, Pure Vanilla turned to the faerie "I think that would only harm them.. they're so young, they still need me". "But this is the safest way" Dark Cacao said "If that Beast is back, we don't know what others might have been freed. We must eliminate this problem quickly". "There has to be another way" Pure Vanilla plead, holding you close to him. He looked to Elder Faerie, who gave a conflicted sigh

"It is possible that I can send a guard from my kingdom, someone to watch over them. They won't be able to purge the influence, but hopefully it can stop the spread" he said. "Thank you, Elder Faerie" Pure Vanilla responded "For all your help. I'm more greatful than you can imagine". "I'll also be sending someone" Dark Cacao chimed in "This castle needs protection". "I couldn't ask that of you" Pure Vanilla said "You need someone to protect you as well, if this really means what we fear it does"

"You are one of my oldest and closest allies, Pure Vanilla Cookie" Dark Cacao responded "A threat to you is a threat to me. I know what it's like to lose yourself... to lose your child..." the Cacao king gave you a look, his sternness softened by reflection. Pure Vanilla nodded "Thank you, my dear friend. I very much appreciate it. Whenever you need, I will make sure to return this kindness"

After a long time of the three discussing their options, they were soon being seen out. You were much more relaxed, but still sticking to Pure Vanilla like glue. "You may expect Silverbell Cookie's arrival soon" Elder Faerie said, standing in the threshold of the castle doors "I have faith that he will guard this castle to the fullest extent possible". "I will send you Chocolate Bark Cookie" Dark Cacao said next "He is one of my oldest allies. You can rely on him, much like you rely on me". "I cannot thank you two enough" Pure Vanilla sighed "Please, be careful on your travels". "Don't worry about us" Elder Faerie said "We'll check in soon enough"

Once inside, you headed to the kitchen. It was still a little upsetting that Shadow Milk had left so suddenly, but now you were also confused. What did all this mean? Did you do something wrong? Why did everyone seem upset with you? As you mulled over the question, Pure Vanilla sat you in your favorite chair. "Care for some Fluffy Castella?" He asked, taking out a cooking pan. You grinned happily "Yes please! And a bit of Toffee jam". "Coming right up" Pure Vanilla chuckled "How about you help me mix it all together?". You slid off of your chair, padding over to excitedly peer at the counter "Yeah!! You can count on me!"

Lingering on the windowsill, a small inky black blob with a single blue eye observed you. It just as suddenly slunk back, rushing across the fields. Around the outskirts, where the trees covered the moon and the forest ground stayed dark, two Cookies leaned against the bark of the trees. The blob stopped before them, morphing and twisting. It grew in size until the gunk peeled away, revealing Shadow Milk Cookie. "Master Shadow Milk!" A pitchy voice squealed, the cookie with red apples in her hair jumping forwards to greet him. "That took hours" the Cookie in purple and black pointed out, sliding into view with smooth strides

"I needed information" Shadow Milk responded simply "It seems our target is getting reinforcements. They're trying to weed us out". "They caught on this quickly?" The purple one asked. "That Elder Faerie Cookie.. I just know he's planning to seal me in that cramped tree again" Shadow Milk mumbled. "Never!" The gal declared, squeezing Shadow Milk's arm in a crushing hug. "Don't worry, minions, your master won't go down that easily" Shadow Milk declared, bravado returning to his tone "With just a pinch of deceit, we'll plant the seeds of our brilliant takeover!"

"Is the... face paint a part of it?" The purple Cookie asked. Shadow Milk raised a hand, feeling the botched shapes and messy makeup that was still on his face. He put his hands on his hips with a scoff "This, Black Sapphire Cookie, is art. If you're jealous that I can pull it off, just say so". "Of course not, Master Shadow Milk" Black Sapphire replied, bowing deeply "How foolish of me". "You're forgiven. This time" Shadow Milk replied, beginning to step into the thick woods "Now we must prepare. Our next act is just a curtain call away!"