#tiny and fragile looking

[epickiya722]

It's funny seeing people call baby Katsuki ugly when babies, newborn, fresh out the womb babies look like that.

Like... what do you expect an newborn to look like??? Have you ever actually seen a newborn?

Joke, I'm joking.

[mewdoodles]

Ooh.. was it worth it?

[icewindandboringhorror]

him as bapy... and him 17 years later (still bapy)

[lord-shitbox]

still alive. hanging out with my pal helped it was chill and awesome how easy it was just to sit arnd in each others company doin our own things. on shift w the fun coworker so hopefully i can let his voice wash over me like waves this evening i just gotta make it through from now until i clock in & then from when i close up to when i get home n eat dinner. closing up will put me thru insane illness i fear but we ball nothin i aint dealt with before

[marshmellowtea]

along the lines of this post how do we feel about chris's friends (i'm thinking sandra cuz i'm brainrotted but it could be almost anyone really ghldskfj) seeing a rare photo of him as a child (god knows raymond and celia didn't take many, and the ones they do have are heavily staged portraits taken for "special occasions") and suddenly feeling overcome by how small he looks, realizing that this is the kid that all the abuse that chris has accidentally confessed to over the course of their friendship happened to, feeling a protective rage suddenly come over them because how the hell could raymond and celia treat such a small thing this badly???, wrapping him in a hug the next time they see him because it was already horrifying to hear about the shit he's been through but actually seeing the kid he was puts it all in far more sickening perspective.........

[on-leatheredwings]

idc idc lets make specific readers!!!! fat readers, bi readers, trans readers, black readers, asian readers, indigenous readers, disabled readers, wheelchair-bound readers, tall readers, short readers, audhd readers, yandere readers !

[sheliesshattered]

I finished my lightsaber bag last weekend, but work has been so hectic that I haven't really had the time to take photos and write up a post about it until now.

The finished bag, when closed like this, is 39" long and 5" wide. It fits my lightsaber (hilt with 28" blade attached) just perfectly, and it's so nice and soft and padded inside that I feel like my saber is protected from most things it would encounter either at home or out in the world. I wouldn't check it as airline baggage in just this bag, but short of that it feels pretty secure.

The top flap closes with a large strip of brown velcro, which makes it quick and easy to get my saber out when I need it. That faux-suede fabric I used for the lining is a bit grippy, and the interior of the bag is too narrow to get even my tiny raccoon hands into, so it takes just the right amount of force (no pun intended) to draw the lightsaber out of the bag. Even with the flap open, there isn't much risk of the saber just falling out of the bag.

The fake pocket flap in the middle of the bag, near the right edge of the above picture, hides another bit of velcro, which allows me to close off the bag at a slightly shorter length by folding the top flap down even further, until the velcro on the left side of the picture meets up with the underside of that flap. I didn't get any pictures of that, since it's really only usable when I separate the hilt and blade of my saber, which is just fiddly enough that I prefer to keep them attached when I can. But it does give me the option, say for a Disney trip, to remove the hilt and wear it on my belt, and then have just the blade in the bag, with the bag being a little bit shorter and lighter and easier to carry onto rides and such.

The pocket at the lower end of the bag is sized for carrying the hex wrench and little screws needed for attaching the blade to the hilt, and also has enough room to tuck the charging cable in there as well.

I've taken to storing my fingerless leather gloves clipped onto the bag, just so they're handy for practicing with the saber every evening. I've built up a good repertoire of flow arts combinations, training on both hands pretty equally, and find that my frequently achy wrists and shoulders are much happier for the routine. I'm hoping to get video of it soon.

When I'm not using my saber, it lives in the bag hung from a hook on the wall. I might like to eventually have a dedicated hook at something closer to waist level, but for now this higher up coat hook works just fine.

The carrying strap took a little bit of fiddling around with to figure out what was most comfortable (even though the whole thing is easily under 5lbs, probably closer to 3), but looped through the top ring and then clipped at the bottom seems to be the winning combination. I can pull the bag on over my head, but the easier thing is to unclip the big S carabiner from the lower ring. The strap isn't permanently attached to the bag anywhere, so I can experiment with other arrangements or even other straps in the future, if I want to.

The chalk guidelines from when I put the lettering on are still showing up somewhat in these photos, but in person they're hardly noticeable. I may do another erasing pass on them at some point, and I still haven't decided if I want to do some weathering with fabric paints or just leave it as is. Generally I'm really happy with how it turned out, but it's nice to know that I can easily make a few more adjustments to it if I feel like it.

But the next thing I want to spend some time working on is the lightsaber hilt itself. I picked out this particular combination of pieces knowing that I wanted to do some practical weathering on it. The hilt is made from aluminum with a nice matte black finish over top, and I've seen lots of examples online of the difference that sanding that surface makes to the overall look of the saber. Now that I've gotten to know the saber and figured out where my hands naturally want to hold it most often, it's just going to be a matter of getting in there with some sandpaper and starting to take off that black paint in a few places.

I've also been toying with the idea of adding a bit of heat bluing to the emitter using paints, and I think all those details will really help it look more like the 'fragile antique' that the bag proclaims it to be. Modifying my saber like that is a bit daunting, but I have a pretty good idea of what I want the hilt to look like when it's finished, so it's really just a matter of carving out some time to take pieces of the hilt apart and strategically attack them with sandpaper.

And besides that, the only thing I still need for Star Wars Nite is the actual tickets to Star Wars Nite, lol. We're coming up on the end of our third week with our new client, and we have a better idea of when the major milestones and deadlines are in April and May, so hopefully Jack and I can sit down soon and figure out when we want to head back to Batuu.

[baby-xemnas]

bepo is so cute...so cute...i want his whole day ruined (in a horny confusion way) after law teases him a little...

[queseraphita]

Yayyy I'm finally home from work i can play hollow knight

[honourablejester]

I don’t know why that affected me so strongly, but I’m watching a youtube video on disasters on Lake Huron, and the first one involves a coal freighter that was lost in the White Hurricane of 1913 called the SS Argus. Everyone on the ship was lost. But it’s mentioned that the captain’s body washed up later, and was found without a life jacket. So they thought, based partly on testimony of another ship that thought they saw them go down, that it just happened too fast for him to have time to get his jacket. But then another body was found, that of the second cook, and she was found wearing the life jacket marked ‘captain’. And that’s …

It didn’t work. It didn’t save her. But it’s so very possible that he spent his last moments alive trying to save someone else, one of his crew, and they probably both knew that it wouldn’t work, that there wasn’t a lot of hope in a blizzard on the lakes in November, but he tried … he tried anyway. Even if it did nothing but maybe make her body easier for her family to find.

You know that Mr Rogers thing of ‘look for the helpers’? How many times has someone, facing the end, done something tiny and fragile and maybe hopeless just to try and help someone else? Whether it works or not. How many people went to their graves at least trying?

That has to say something about us. As a people. As monstrous as we sometimes (perhaps often) are, so many times we were also …

Whoever saves one life, saves the whole world.

And sometimes you can’t save one life, sometimes it doesn’t work, sometimes there’s no getting out of this for anyone, but … try anyway. Because it matters anyway.

And maybe no one will ever know. But maybe also some day more than a century down the line, maybe some idiot will be crying into her coffee because of what you died trying.

[jomnki]

the main thing with insects js that they're too small it freaks me out. like id be 100 percent down with those long legged mosquito like bugs and cockroaches and housespiders if they were dog sized and heavier but their current state of lightweightness and spindliness freaks me out. like you're so destructible.. bugs i love you i wish the oxygen levels were higher so you could be extremely big so i could pet you without fearing for your life

[sinkuna]

୨୧ — "Cant sleep," Gojo announces at 2 AM, his white hair adorably mussed as he stands in your doorway.

"Me either," you admit, trying not to stare at how his sleep shirt clings to his lean muscles… and before you can protest, he's already pushing into your room.

"I know!" he claps his hands together, "lets build a pillow fort!" Once again, before you can question him or protest, Gojo Satoru is already stripping your bed of its blankets and pillows. His energy truly didn’t know any bounds, and it was almost infectious as he constructed walls- hung fairy lights he seemingly produced from nowhere. It was almost like he had planned for this.

Inside the soft cocoon of blankets, his usual playful side slowly melts away. The loss of his best friend Geto was weighing on him heavily tonight, it showed in how desperately he pulls you close.

"Stay with me, don’t ever think about leaving’ me…" he whispers against your lips, his kisses needy and deep for once. His hands gripping your hips in a possessive way that screams ‘I don’t want to be alone’ as he grinds slowly against you.

"I'm here, Satoru," you breathe, feeling him shudder at his given name. His fingers bite into your skin almost painfully, a way for him to anchor himself to you.

When he reaches for the condom in his pocket, he suddenly hesitates… Those sky-like eyes meeting yours for a split second before darting away, the sweetest pink hue crossing his beautiful features.

"Let’s not use protection this time," he mumbles, voice uncharacteristically uncertain... Long white lashes fluttering as he blinks, "I know, I know- it's selfish," he continues, pressing his forehead to yours, "But I keep thinking, what if..." His voice trails off…

And for the first time, the infamous Gojo Satoru looks almost fragile.

Those carefully built walls crumbling before you as he shares what’s been on his mind, "A reason to come home," he breathes, "Someone waiting... tiny feet running down my hallways instead of just ghosts and memories."

Your heart aches at how young and innocent he suddenly looks… this powerful man- the strongest sorcerer, wanting nothing more than a future filled with love rather than loss.

"Whatever happens..." he whispers against your lips, hips pressing into yours, "happens..."

"Okay~," you whisper back, pulling him closer. His whole body relaxing- melting into you at your acceptance.

One of his large hands span your stomach, already imagining it swollen with his child, "I realized the other day that I want to give you everything... want to come home to you both..."

"Everyone leaves," he murmurs brokenly between heated kisses. "Can't lose you to..."

"Never," you promise as he rocks against you, his usual confidence stripped away leaving just Satoru- young and afraid of being alone.

Your legs wrap tighter around him as he moves against you, his usual cockiness replaced by raw need and hope. For once, the strongest sorcerer isn't thinking about power or victory- his usual cockiness gone in this moment, replaced by genuine feelings of the possibility of creating something beautiful instead of destruction.

"Please," he begs, voice cracking, "Let me give you- give us this... let me have something to protect..."

In the safety of your pillow fort, surrounded by twinkling lights, you hold him close as he seeks more than just physical pleasure. He's seeking a future where love outweighs loss, where coming home means more than empty victories.

His kisses grow more desperate as you arch beneath him, both of you chasing not just release but the promise of tomorrow. Tonight, in this soft haven of blankets and fairy lights, Gojo Satoru isn't the strongest sorcerer- he's just a young man dreaming of a future filled with love instead of ghosts.

Prt 2. │ ⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆

[millenianthemums]

MABEL used HEARTWARMING DISPOSITION! It’s super effective!

anyway, imagine if you wanted to exploit the kindness of somebody who chose to help you at your lowest so you can betray them and get your power back, but that person was a tiny devastatingly adorable little baby animal who trusts you despite all logic and shows you casual affection after you spent a trillion years being touch starved because you had no physical form. that’s Bill in this AU.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Child's Sock from Egypt, c.250-350 CE: this colorful sock is nearly 1,700 years old

This tiny sock was discovered during excavations in the ancient city of Oxyrhynchus, in Egypt, and it was likely created for a child during the late Roman period, c.250-350 CE.

Similar-looking socks from late antiquity and the early Byzantine period have also been found at several other sites throughout Egypt; these socks often have colorful, striped patterns with divided toes, and they were crafted out of wool using a technique known as nålbinding.

Above: a similar child's sock from Antinoöpolis, in Egypt, c.250-350 CE

The sock depicted above was created during the same period, and it was found in a midden heap (an ancient rubbish pit) in the city of Antinoöpolis. A multispectral imaging analysis of this sock yielded some interesting results back in 2018, as this article explains:

... analysis revealed that the sock contained seven hues of wool yarn woven together in a meticulous, stripy pattern. Just three natural, plant-based dyes—madder roots for red, woad leaves for blue and weld flowers for yellow—were used to create the different color combinations featured on the sock, according to Joanne Dyer, lead author of the study.

In the paper, she and her co-authors explain that the imaging technique also revealed how the colors were mixed to create hues of green, purple and orange: In some cases, fibers of different colors were spun together; in others, individual yarns went through multiple dye baths.

Such intricacy is pretty impressive, considering that the ancient sock is both “tiny” and “fragile."

Given its size and orientation, the researchers believe it may have been worn on a child’s left foot.

Above: another child's sock from Al Fayyum, Egypt, c.300-500 CE

The ancient Egyptians employed a single-needle looping technique, often referred to as nålbindning, to create their socks. Notably, the approach could be used to separate the big toe and four other toes in the sock—which just may have given life to the ever-controversial socks-and-sandals trend.

Sources & More Info:

Manchester Museum: Child's Sock from Oxyrhynchus

British Museum: Sock from Antinoupolis

Royal Ontario Museum: Sock from Al Fayyum

Smithsonian Magazine: 1,700-Year-Old Sock Spins Yarn About Ancient Egyptian Fashion

The Guardian: Imaging Tool Unravels Secrets of Child's Sock from Ancient Egypt

PLOS ONE Journal: A Multispectral Imaging Approach Integrated into the Study of Late Antique Textiles from Egypt

National Museums Scotland: The Lost Sock

[alygator77]

── try again

a/n. i've been sitting on wanting to create a small scene like this for a while now. so here ya go! lemme tell ya'll... breastfeeding is not always this magical and beautiful thing that people make it out to be. it hurts like hell, my bloody nipples can attest.

cw: domestic fluff. angst with comfort. satoru's trying to make breastfeeding easier for you.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice tight with frustration. “She won’t latch.”

You’re trying not to cry.

Looking down at your newborn, you can see her frustration—tiny fists clenching, soft, hungry cries spilling from her mouth as she wriggles restlessly in your arms. You shift again, adjusting her position, cradling her closer, trying—begging—for something to click.

But it doesn’t.

Her mouth bobs and searches blindly, cheeks flushing red with effort, and the desperation building in her fragile little body mirrors your own.

“I—I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you choke out, blinking hard as tears blur your vision.

You’re exhausted. Beyond it. The sleepless nights at the hospital. Your body aches in places you didn’t even know could hurt. And this—this thing that was supposed to be natural, instinctual, beautiful—feels awkward and impossible—like a test you’re failing over and over again.

“Please, baby girl…” your voice trembles as you guide her to your breast one more time. “Just—c’mon—o-ow!”

She latches, but it’s wrong. A searing pain shoots through your chest and you flinch, instinctively pulling her away. Your nipple throbs—red, sore, screaming for relief. With a shrill cry, your baby’s tiny face crumples in protest, and your own tears finally fall—hot and helpless.

“Why is this so hard?” you whisper, voice cracking as you hold her close, shaking.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re doing everything right.”

Satoru's voice is low behind you—steady, but laced with worry.

His hands come to rest gently on your shoulders, warm and trembling, his thumbs moving in slow circles like he can massage away the frustration knotting in your muscles.

“She’s only a few days old…” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, lips lingering in your hair. “She’s still learning. Fuck… we are too.” He exhales shakily. “You’re doing the best you can, sweetheart. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He straightens, blue eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for something—anything—to help.

“What can I do? Do you need anything? Where’s that—hang on—where’s that damn pillow thing��?” he mumbles, and you watch through watery eyes as he scrambles, clumsily grabbing the nursing pillow, adjusting it like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box. His movements are uncoordinated, frantic—but full of love.

Satoru kneels beside you as you try again, baby blue eyes flicking between your face and your daughter’s, willing the pieces to fall into place.

"C'mon baby girl... be nice to your momma for me, yeah?"

But when your little one latches again and you gasp, pulling her off with a pained cry, your resolve shatters.

“I—I can’t do it Satoru!” you say, brokenly. “I can't get her to latch, and when she does… it just hurts. So much.”

You feel like a failure. How can you not feed your baby?

As you look up at him through watery lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks, Satoru's expression cracks. He nods quickly, white brows furrowing as his lips press into a tight line, like he’s holding back the helplessness swelling in his chest.

“I know, baby. I know. Just… wait one sec.”

He’s on his feet in an instant, practically tripping over the edge of the rug as he rushes across the room. A moment later, he’s back—dragging a stool with one hand and clutching a spare pillow in the other. Dropping down in front of you, he crouches low, gently lifting your legs and placing them on the makeshift footrest.

“There,” he murmurs, positioning the pillow with care. “Put your feet up. Maybe if you’re more comfortable…”

Satoru fluffs the nursing pillow again with extra care, tucks the baby’s blanket around her tiny frame, then grabs your water bottle from the side table—uncapping it as he gently places it in your hand.

“C’mon momma... gotta stay hydrated.”

His voice is hushed, but purposeful. You sniffle, taking a sip of water, and he's shifting back toward the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder.

“Um… do you want a snack? I think there’s some of those lactation cookies in the kitchen…" his blue eyes flick back to you, and you see the gears turning in his head. "Or... I can make you something? Or—shit—I’ll Postmate something! What do you want? Fuck, I’ll Postmate everything if it’ll help.”

A tired, wet laugh escapes you—half amusement, half relief. “Great..." you wipe the tears from your eyes, smiling softly. "Now you’re spiraling too...”

He huffs out a sheepish breath, dragging a hand down his face as he plops beside you again. “Yeah… yeah, I am definitely spiraling.”

Reaching up, he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, fingers grazing your temple with featherlight tenderness.

“You’re in pain...” he murmurs, blue eyes shimmering with concern. “And... I feel helpless just standing here. I can’t feed her. I can’t fix this…” he pauses, lips dropping into an exaggerated pout. “My nipples are completely useless, by the way.”

A choked, breathless laugh escapes through your tears, and his entire face softens at the sound, like it’s the only thing that’s mattered all day.

“What?” he grins. “It’s true. I’ve got nothing going on up here. Decorative at best. Yours, on the other hand—” he gestures with a flourish, “—doing heroic work. Damn sexy, too. Just sayin'.”

You roll your eyes through the blur of tears, laughing again, and lean into the warmth of his palm as it cradles your cheek.

It still hurts. You’re still exhausted, still raw, still aching in every possible way.

But in this moment—wrapped in Satoru's love, soothed by his gentle chaos and relentless care—you don’t feel quite so alone.

And somehow, with him by your side, you find the strength to try again.

And again.

And again.

Until finally… you get it right.

[squipa]

let me shatter into you

— aka jason knows better than to let anyone get away with hurting you

———

your eyes trace the brown-yellow bruise forming on your wrist, the consequence of some asshole on the street too drunk to remember it isn’t polite to grab pretty girls. you would’ve let it go, really, it’s gotham, this kind of thing happens. unfortunately for the poor bastard, he had the misfortune of forgetting his sense in front of jason todd.

you try to hide the bruise before your boyfriend can see it, sliding the tarnished patch of skin under the sleeve of your jacket with haste— but he catches it anyways. of course he does. you can faintly see shocks of green lightning crackling in his ocean blue eyes, a precursor to the white hot rage stemming from his chest to the rest of his body.

you gently squeeze his arm, noting how tense the muscles in his bicep are. you know jason. you know he loves you differently— like you’re something fragile. he worships you, taking care of you like you’re a marble statue and he’s terrified of finding cracks. so something as small as a bruise, no matter how tiny or how minor, it makes him lose control.

he gently removes your hand from his arm, pressing a chaste kiss against your bruise. “why don’t you go back to that café, yeah? i’ll join you in a minute.” he says, looking down at you with a soft smile. if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he’d completely gotten over the situation, happy as a clam.

but you do know him, and you know that the way his shoulders are tensed and his free hand is fisted in the pocket of his jacket means that he’s enraged.

“jay—“

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, giving you a gentle smile. “please, baby. i don’t want you to see this.”

you should stop it. you should try. but he’s looking at you like that and your morals suddenly become incredibly loose. you hesitate, remembering the waves of repulsion you felt moments ago when that idiot bastard yanked you towards him. “just… don’t hurt him bad.”

jason nods, turning you around and guiding you forward, watching until you turn towards the cafe before he focuses his attention on the man, who is still too piss drunk to comprehend how badly he had fucked up. you hear jason before the door fully closes behind you, an echo of “so you think that’s how you should treat a woman?”

he’s terrifying. that drunk idiot must be terrified.

and he’s yours. scary dog privileges and all that. it makes you feel warm, safe, loved, protected— you’re irrevocably in love with that. with him.

he comes back in a few minutes, maybe fifteen? the wait stretched on for hours in your mind. his knuckles are bloody, but none of it is his. he cleans up in the bathroom before sliding next to you on the cushioned side of your half-booth, wrapping an arm and your shoulder, breathing you in like a man starved.

“he’s fine.” he says quietly, so only you can hear it. “just made sure he learned to keep his hands to himself.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, into his warmth. you don’t say anything— you don’t have to, the way you bury yourself against him is admission enough. his arms wrap around you and the bruise fades back into your skin. your heart beats with more love than you thought it capable of producing, your chest swelling like it’s about to burst.

you press a gentle kiss against his chest and everything makes sense again.

———

it’s always when i say i’m not gonna write that inspiration strikes