#( scheduled post. )

[daily-selfship-questions]

What would it be like if you and your F/O(s) were on a bake off or cooking show together? We can just imagine that the other contestants are at relatively the same skill level as yall.. or maybe you are just making a silly video of it or doing something at home.

Does one of yall have any proper baking/cooking knowledge or know how to specially make something? Maybe you both actually make something really good? Is someone a designated helper/"Go get this."? Maybe none of yall know anything and make some sort of probably-unettible concoction, but yall are completely cracking one another up the entire time.

[m4jors]

plotting call? hit the heart and i’ll come bother you for plots w jas. 🤧

[hemoth]

jay can’t watch tv like normal people. can’t go to the movies, can’t go to the hospital. just thinking about how horribly inconvenient it is to deal with his hum. to watch television is to just be frustrated. to be reminded of his curse. screens flicker when he’s tired, they glitch when he’s emotional. sometimes they turn on when they shouldn’t and then sometimes they never turn on again. tv becomes something he used to enjoy. but can’t anymore. streaming services buffer eternally, old dvd players stall out, anything “smart” refuses to acknowledge him.

he can’t go to the movies. it’s alienating, isolating. the projector might glitch, lights might flicker, someone’s phone might die next to him, the whole system might loop mid-scene & no one would know why. he doesn’t want to ruin someone else’s escape. so he stays home. tells people he’s “not into that kind of thing.” watches the shadows on his wall like they’re enough.

he does like to read, though. has books stacked on every surface of his apartment. they’re worn, written in, hoarded. he draws. maps, mostly. but also snippets of tragedies he’s seen before. he’ll listen to static - heavy radios that only half work… the crackle is strangely comforting.

[everybodyshusband]

this is technically a request fill for a couple of anons but turned into what's basically a vent fic, so i didn't feel comfortable wasting your requests on it. to those anons, your requests will be filled properly at some point, i promise.

cw for self-hatred, and desires of self-harm and suicidal thoughts while regressed. please also be aware that there is one line where rain considers killing an animal because he's so angry. this work is not suitable for regressed kiddos or littles.

but ! without further ado, 2.2k words of rain trying to hide his regression from dew and having a breakdown about it under the cut.

“Rain?”

The water ghoul looks up from his bass at the sound of Dewdrop’s voice, carefully schooling his expression into something typical of how he acts when he isn’t regressed; when he’s normal, his brain unhelpfully supplies. He clears his throat, giving himself a little more time to prepare himself for the conversation ahead. “Hey, sundew. What’s up?”

The words come out easier than he expected them to, but it still feels so wrong. He’s not supposed to talk like that, he’s not supposed to direct the conversation. He’s supposed to crawl into Dewdrop’s arms and let himself be held and loved, but he can’t. Can’t, because he has so much to do today. Has so many assigned duties on top of everything else he’s wanted to get done all week. He can’t focus on any of it if he’s regressed, so if he pretends to be fine—to be normal—then maybe he’ll be able to do what he needs to.

He’s jolted out of his head by Dewdrop’s voice. “Want a practice partner? I– I’m kinda struggling with some of the solos…”

The hesitation in the fire ghoul’s tone immediately sets Rain on edge. Dewdrop needs comforting, he thinks, but that’s not something the water ghoul is able to do when he’s regressed; not well, at least. Still, Rain tries. He smiles what he hopes is a regular, reassuring smile and reaches an arm out, ushering Dewdrop to sit down next to him. The gestures come to him easily. It’s a relief, but he can’t help the small voice in the back of his mind telling him the reason he’s able to pretend to be normal is because he pretends to be regressed.

(Which isn’t true. He knows it’s not. It’s proven by night curled up in Swiss’ arms, unable to murmur even a single word because he’s just too small to do anything else. By all the times he hasn’t been able to function without someone holding his hand, guiding him through the day. Alas, it’s never been something he can stop thinking. That he’s a fraud; so desperate for the attention of his packmates that he’s resorted to lying, deceiving them, in order to gain a shred of affection, a kind word here and there.)

The fire ghoul grins happily and sets himself up quickly, eyeing the music on Rain’s stand to gauge where he should flip to in his own music. “Rats, eh?”

“Mhmm, wa– Rats.” He turns away from Dewdrop, cheeks burning as he clears his throat and attempts to brush the slip off as something catching in his throat. “Good bassline. Hard when you haven’t played it in months, though.”

Dewdrop hums in agreement. “Mmm, I can imagine.” He fidgets with the tuning pegs, tilting his head in Rain’s direction, silently asking for a note to match. Rain obliges. “D’you wanna start from the start, or…?”

“Start’s fine,” Rain smiles. He knows the start best, he’ll be able to do it, he’s sure. He can ignore the brain fog. He can pretend. For Dewdrop, he can pretend. The fire ghoul seemed insecure and burdened enough when he asked to run through the solos. He doesn’t need Rain’s regressed headspace making anything more difficult for him. “Uhm…” he begins, unsure; failing already. “B– Backing track?” He stutters on the B and the K is over pronounced in compensation of his difficulty with the letter, but Dewdrop understands—and more importantly, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“I think we’ll be fine, right, Rainy?” He turns to smile at the water ghoul, eyes so soft and gentle, but there’s something underneath his tone that makes Rain fumble his bass.

“W– Why are you calling me ‘Rainy’ like that? You only say it like that when I’m… small.”

Dewdrop’s smile falters slightly, but his eyes remain warm. Kind. “Well, you can tell me if I’m wrong, but I thought you might’ve been feeling a bit small, love. Am I right?”

Rain readjusts his bass on his hip, refusing to meet Dewdrop’s eyes. “N– No… I– I feel fine,” he lies. “Normal. ‘M good. Promise.” He knows Dewdrop doesn’t believe him, but he can’t help but hope that maybe he’s convinced the fire ghoul. After all, Dewdrop has things to do today as well. He can’t blow off a whole day just to help Rain. Rain can’t ask him to do that.

“Are you sure, puddle? You’re not just telling me that because you feel bad about being small?”

“...Oh. Uhm… N– No?” Rain does his best to sound convincing but he knows there’s no persuading Dewdrop now, not when he already knows.

Dewdrop fixes him with a look, still adoring, but stern. “It’s not nice to lie, my love.”

And just like that, Rain’s facade crumbles.

His eyes fill with tears as he curls in on himself, hugging his bass tightly to his body. “I– I’m sorry, Dewy,” he cries. “I– I didn’ mean to! I’m sorry sorry, I’m really, very sorry. I didn’ mean to lie, ‘m sorry!”

He rocks back and forth, doing his best to self-soothe but it’s not working. He doesn’t know how to calm down. Doesn’t really know why his reaction to Dewdrop’s gentle chiding is a breakdown. He knows the fire ghoul was only trying to nudge him out of his pretences but he can’t help but listen to the voice in his head that whispers softly, cruelly.

He hates you for lying to him. He’s never going to talk to you again.

You got too comfortable with him. Shared too much. He doesn’t want to take care of you. He only does it to have an excuse to tell you what you’re doing wrong.

Such a burden to him. To the pack. Why can’t you just stop regressing? Just stop it. Stop being so small. Stop being so fucking weak.

He lets out a panicked yelp when Dewdrop reaches out to comfort him. “Nuh uh! Don’t touch me. I– I don’ deserve it.”

“Wh–” Dewdrop flounders.

That means it’s true; Rain doesn’t deserve it. He curls in on himself even further; he shouldn’t have said anything. Should have kept it to himself. Should have left the room the second Dewdrop entered it. Should have thought about someone other than himself and his own pathetic, useless needs for once.

“What makes you think that, Rainy?”

“Liar get punish,” he parrots as accurately as he can manage. “Only good boy get to be touch.”

“Oh, love…” Dewdrop sounds so disappointed. Rain braces himself for the inevitable. “That’s our rule for when you’re big and we, uhh…” He trails off, clearly unsure of how to phrase what he needs to say. Rain wishes he could rid the fog from his head enough to be able to reassure Dewdrop that he’s okay; it was just a slip of his mouth that made him say that, it’s not what he really thinks. But if he says that, it’s only fuelling the fire, and he’ll be punished more for lying; he’ll punish himself for lying. “Look, Rainy, love,” the fire ghoul tries again. “My point is that those rules don’t apply to you right now. They’re only there for when you’re big and we have our… Our special playtimes, yeah?” Dewdrop cringes at the words special playtimes and Rain knows exactly why; the phrase sounds so forced. He hates that Dewdrop feels the need to mince his words around Rain when he’s like this, as if the water ghoul doesn’t retain his understanding of the world and his own life when he regresses.

“You– You don’ like special playtime?” Rain’s goading Dewdrop into giving him an answer that he’ll hate, that will make him feel worse, he knows he is. But as long as the fire ghoul doesn’t notice, Rain doesn’t care. He deserves to feel bad, he knows that much. But he doesn’t feel bad enough, and it’s going to be hard to sink himself down to the level of bad that he deserves with Dewdrop watching his every move.

“No, no, Rainy,” he disagrees quickly. Too quickly, Rain thinks. “I love our special playtimes. I love them a lot, I promise. But… I don’t think this is something we should be talking about when you’re little, okay? We can talk about it when you’re big again if you want to, though.”

“O– Okay…” Rain’s heart sinks. It’s always like this. The very nature of their ghoul pack results in him being left out of most things when he’s little. Sometimes he doesn’t mind, and he’s more than content to sit with one of his packmates and fill some colouring sheets with bright pencil markings or curl up in their arms and drift off to sleep. But other times? His pack’s refusal to include him in certain activities or conversations feels less like protection and more like a poor disguise of their hatred of him, of their unwillingness to involve him in pack affairs. He understands, really, he does. He knows that when he’s regressed, there are things he shouldn’t be exposed to. Knows that when his pack are frustrated with him, he’s rarely the one at fault, just the one unlucky enough to bear the brunt of their frustration, no matter how much they try to hide it for his sake. But he also knows that the pack’s exclusion of him is because they don’t like him. Don’t enjoy his presence in any of the forms it takes. Don’t care about him enough to hide their annoyance, despite knowing their frustration directed at him can cause him to spiral so intensely that he barely remembers the rest of the day. He knows all of this, but nothing makes it hurt any less.

If he were in a better state of mind, he might reach out to Dewdrop and ask to be held for a while. Might sob and scream and cry until there aren’t any tears left but it would be okay, because he’d be safe in the fire ghoul’s arms. As it is, he can’t. He tells himself he doesn’t want to, which is true, in part. There’s a part of him desperately fighting to run away from Dewdrop, to refuse to ask for comfort, to never be a burden, never show weakness because otherwise he won’t love you anymore and you’ll be all alone all over again. The other part longs for comfort, regardless of the negative impact he knows it will have on his relationship with Dewdrop. He wants to be held, wants to be reassured that it’s okay to cry, that it’s okay because Dewdrop’s got him and he’s never letting go, never leaving. And so, he finds himself at an impasse and so angry at himself that he wants to punch something. Scream. Break his arm. Kill one of Copia’s rats. Kill himself.

The only benefit to being regressed that he can think of right now is that if he screams, no one bats an eye; all too accustomed to toddlers throwing tantrums that they don’t seem to care. And so when Dewdrop tentatively reaches an arm out, testing the waters to see whether Rain is ready for touch, the water ghoul screams. And he does it properly.

He doesn’t know how long he screams for before stopping, but once he stops, his throat is raw and aching in the silence of the room. He’s curled in on himself on the floor—bass discarded somewhere off to the side, hopefully in one piece—surrounded by pleasant warmth and pressure. Slowly, he realises that he’s wrapped up in Dewdrop’s embrace, and he begins to panic all over again, throat refusing to make another sound dispute his frantic attempts.

A warm hand cards through his hair, soft voice shushing him gently. “If you really want me to let go, Rainy, I will,” Dewdrop reassures him. “But I don’t want to let go, love. I want to help you, and I don’t want to leave you alone like this, okay?”

Rain turns his head and buries himself against Dewdrop’s chest, sobbing quietly. His emotional regulation for the day has been used up, and he knows that any and all emotions he feels for the rest of the day—or week, probably—will be on full display for everyone to see, no matter how much he wants to hide them. He finds himself nodding along to the fire ghoul’s words without his own brain’s permission. It’s impossible to deny for any longer that he wants comfort—he needs it so desperately it may as well be oxygen at this point—but he can’t bring himself to ask for it. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, and he knows that he’ll only feel worse later as a result of talking to Dewdrop and receiving his love and affections, but for now, that’s a problem for future Rain. Right now, all he really cares about is curling up in Dewdrop’s arms and soaking in the gentle comfort that the fire ghoul seems to be so good at providing him when he’s like this.

He doesn’t feel better about it, and he knows he’s not going to. To be honest, he doesn’t even want to try to feel better about it. But now that he’s here, he’ll accept the comfort of gentle caresses and chaste forehead kisses that Dewdrop seems intent on gifting to him. He’ll work on not feeling even worse about the fire ghoul’s affections another time.

[confusedhomicidalrage]

Once I get out, I swear, ONCE I GET OUT I WILL DRAW CHIBI FREDERICK. MARK MY WORDS.

[voidcat]

Ngl i do find it tragicomic that my og boys ever since the early days of this blog (oikawa, dazai & scara) are at 0…

[torontofms]

the following roles have been reopened !

tristan milligan (jared celma gomez)craig manning (pietro checchi)

[magentasnail]

thinking about her in these trying times

[innerchildabortionclinic]

If you did answer this poll, please take a second to stop scrolling.

If you haven't already heard Israel is still attempting to block aid going to Gaza and even threatening people over it. It is also Eid al-Adha, a holiday in which large feasts are prepared.

There are a lot of people sharing campaigns to donate money for food and other necessities for survival in Gaza. I am sharing Nader's family's campaign.

This is a small way to help make a big difference in a family's life struggling for survival under occupation. Every donation counts.

[chrisrainicorn]

SICKENING

[m4jors]

he   lingers   by   the   back   porch.      half   in   shadow.      the   screen   door   creaking   behind   him   as   it   eases   shut.   he   wasn't   sure   what   had   drawn   him   out   here.   habit,   maybe.      the   need   for   air.      the   need   for   distance.      the   night   was   still,   with   crickets   chirping   in   the   grass.      the   wind   carries   the   faint   scent   of   pine   and   rain-soaked   earth.      hand   presses   against   the   railing.      fingers   tightening   briefly   around   the   wood.      old   habits,   old   instincts.      always   bracing   for   something   that   never   quite   comes.   

he   senses   her   before   he   hears   her.      she   has   the   gentlest   of   footsteps.            ❝         esme.         ❞      it   came   out   a   bit   like   a   sigh.      not   a   warning,   just   acknowledgement.      she   didn't   startle   him.      but   something   about   her   presence   always   made   him   feel   like   he   should   apologize   for   the   space   he   took   up.      for   the   weight   he   brought   into   a   room.   he   doesn't   turn   to   look   at   her.      instead   he   stares   out   across   the   perfectly   manicured   lawn.      where   moonlight   spilled   like   milk   over   the   grass.      his   voice   was   quiet,   edged   like   a   blade   dulled   from   use.         ❝         i   don't   know   what   you   see   when   you   look   at   me…         but   it   can't   be   easy.         ❞         nose   scrunches,   as   he   thinks   about   it.         ❝         a   mother   lookin'   at   somethin'   like   me.         ❞         it   wasn't   bitter,   just   honest.      honest   in   the   way   only   jasper   could   be.      raw,      a   little   broken.      yet   still   laced   with   a   little   bit   of   hope,   deep   down,   for   her   to   prove   him   wrong.   

/ @wastheheart ( ♡ )

[hemoth]

the   hum   was   calm,      yet   forceful   in   the   way   that   it   pulled   him   along.      he   followed   it,      as   he   often   did,      with   little   complaint.      he   hadn't   meant   to   cross   paths   with   anyone   tonight.      he'd   stuck   to   the   back   alleys,      the   rooftops,      the   places   that   the   city   seems   to   forget.      drawn   by   the   hum   in   his   spine   and   that   faint,   seemingly   electric   tug   that   always   means   something's   about   to   happen.      he   wasn't   sure   where   he   was   headed,      but   he   knew   that   he'd   know   once   he   seen   it.      

boy,   did   he   know.      his   eyes   landed   on   her.      he   stopped   a   few   feet   away.      nonthreatening,      not   fleeing.      just   watching,   as   he   often   did.      the   kind   of   stillness   that   holds   a   few   hundred   thoughts   behind   it.      

head   tilts,      curiosity   piqued   and   visible   in   red   tinted   eyes.         his   voice   is   a   bit   scratchy,      rough   from   disuse.         ❝         you're   different.         ❞         despite   the   scratchiness,      his   voice   is   low   –      a   little   steady.      it   lacks   any   accusatory   tone,   despite   his   words.      he   was   certain.      like   he'd   already   done   the   math   and   was   waiting   to   be   proven   wrong.         ❝         i   can   feel   it   in   the   air.         in   my   ribs.         ❞         a   flicker   of   something   crosses   his   features   as   he   nods   his   head   in   greeting.   / @sacredpyre ( ♡ )

[daisyssousa]

chaos protection divination life&death reality spirit healing

[violetheart77]

that time of year again

[untilsfe]

Lance might not be his knight anymore, but that doesn't mean he'll let Arthur's allergies finish him before he does.

Shadow being so done with Sonic and still begrudgingly caring for him is one of my favorite things about their relationship in every universe

[1alchemistart]

doing my duty of drawing skeleton falin