#and hopefully my new babies

[lilleputtu]

Well well well would you look at that, it's some starter sims for a BaCC. Featuring not very good screenshots of their faces because really, what do you expect from me? Effort? We don't do that around here.

Anyways, some old faces, some new faces and a Lille who is going to have to reconcile some mods with the BaCC rules maybe. We'll see how it goes. and when. also where.

[elitisim]

Ebonix- Deji Locs

All credits goes to@ebonixsims! Original here!

Hair for For Teen ➜ Elder Males

27.5K Poly

2048x texture

Under Hats, 1 channel

Fully recolorable rubber bands at the top and end of each loc

Texture: Ebonix

Custom Thumbnail

includes all LODS and is disabled for random

The rubber bands on the end of the hair cast weird shadows on the face in CAS but they're fine in game.

Larger Pics and color channel breakdown under the cut

tagging: @pis3update, @sssvitlanz, @kpccfinds

[DOWNLOAD]

[ryonello]

loba 🐺

[lazysunjade]

P E A C E |

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou loves you, he really does, but he can’t help but be a little prickly sometimes. it’s not because he’s mad at you or anything that’s actively your fault, no. Sometimes he just likes to pick and be an ass to you because he finds your reactions funny, likes how your lip pouts, and how you huff at him whenever he pokes at you.

But it always irks you whenever he rejects your physical affection. It’s playful, the way he softly taps your fingers away from him when you wrap your arms around his middle while he cooks. You bite at his shoulder blade and he wiggles in your grasp, grumbles for you to stop fucking with him while he makes your damn soup.

And that irks you to no end, more than usual, for some reason. Chalk it up to pms or the weather or whatever the fuck, but you’re sick of it. You step beside him, turning until your butt hits the counter, folding your arms as you glare up at him.

“Well, if I can’t touch you, then you can’t touch me.” You declare childishly, and it makes Bakugou smirk at your petulance. He stirs the soup a few more times in silence, adding in more seasoning with a shake of his head while you stare him down.

After what feels like forever, he lays the spoon beside the pot and faces you with a hand resting on the counter and the other on his hip. He cocks his head at you, grinning now when he meets your frowning face.

“My poor baby,” he coos to you condescendingly, reaching out to grip your hip but you lightly smack his fingers away, same as he did you earlier. He expects that, and the next one, and the next. However, he doesn’t expect for it to last for the rest of the night, being unable to touch you.

At this point, he thinks he might be going stir crazy. He’s so used to the casual touches; squeezing your butt when you walk past, patting your cheek when you eat, rubbing your shoulders, massaging your calf on the couch. But he’s been rejected every time, and goddamn you, it’s not funny anymore.

So he blocks you in where you stand trying to leave the bathroom. To anyone else, he would look menacing, but to you, he just looks like an overstuffed teddy bear as he hunches his shoulders to his ears. He doesn’t look you in the eye, instead at your mouth, as he grumbles,

“M’sorry for being stupid. Now lemme touch you. Please.” He tacks on when he sees your eyes narrow. You stand there with your arms crossed for a few seconds, before humming and placing your hands on your hips.

“I’ll forgive you if you let me hold your boobs.” You counteroffer. His face scrunches up for a second at that.

“They’re not—you know what? Go ahead, have at it.” He tells you with a dramatic sigh, mirroring your position as he looks up to the ceiling. But as you cup his chest in your hands and squeeze his pecs and bury your face in it, Bakugou can’t help but smile a little. As long as he gets to do it back to you, he doesn’t mind one bit.

[witchkittymeow]

Its them Its them! I'm so stinking proud of these guys! Ive been saying this for a while now but jeez I need another shelf man 😭

@julialepetit

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Taglist Form

Summary: For Josh, home is where you are. | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Pairings: Josh x Wife! Reader (Josh POV) | Genres: domestic fluff, angst, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 3k | Warnings: a little mention of spice

A/N: I loved Josh's most recent insta caption about the stage being his ethereal living room he gets to share with us, but I also love hurt/comfort, so I made it angsty and fluffy for Josh and Baby. I hope you like it! ♡

“The stage is your ‘ethereal living room’?”

Josh looked up from the charcuterie board he was meticulously arranging to see you on your phone, presumably scrolling through the concert pictures he’d posted half an hour ago. He smiled.

“Yeah, you know.” He tapped a row of crackers into line until they were perfect. “The shows are a place where people come together to enjoy each other’s company. Somewhere that feels like home.”

You didn’t say anything. He glanced up at you again.

“Ethereal means — ”

“I know what ethereal means, Josh.” Your face went pink. “It’s just not usually a word you use to describe a living room.”

He was a little surprised at your tone; it bordered on sounding upset, but maybe that was just because he’d embarrassed you, though he certainly hadn’t meant to.

“I was just trying to help, baby,” he said gently. He tried for some humor. “And you’re right, it’s not usually a word you’d use to describe a living room. Definitely not our living room in the state it’s been in lately.”

That had the opposite of the intended effect, and he wished he could take it back when your face fell. “You don’t think it’s ready for tonight?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “It’s ready now. Everything looks great. I just meant that we haven’t been as good about tidying every night, so it’s been a wreck recently.”

“Right,” you said, but it was doubtful and tense. “Well, I tried to get most of it done while you were at work — ”

“I know, baby.” He felt that he’d botched this conversation pretty badly, but you also seemed much more sensitive than you usually were. “It was a huge help, and I’m grateful that you did most of the cleaning when we made the mess together.”

“I didn’t make it quite as ethereal as a concert, though,” you said, and your laugh was a little strained.

He wondered at your fixation on the wording of his caption, but maybe you were trying to make it into a running joke.

“The Kiszkas wouldn’t know what to do with a living room too perfect for this world,” he teased. He set the board on the other side of the island and went hunting for the wine glasses. “Could you grab me the corkscrew, honey?”

You did as he said, but there was a pensiveness to your body language that made him worry. You’d been in a great mood all day, his happy bubbly girl, spending the day shopping and tidying and preparing for the dinner party you were hosting. Jake, Sparrow, Sam, and Danny were due to arrive any time now, and Josh had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with you after work getting your home ready for your family. He didn’t know what had brought on this sudden change in mood, and he racked his brain for what could have caused it and what he could do to fix it.

“Dessert smells really good,” he said sincerely. “Did you end up putting the strawberries in there too?”

You handed him the corkscrew and stood uneasily as he opened the Riesling, toying with the sleeve of your pretty dress.

“No,” you said quietly. “It’s just regular blackberry cobbler. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

A frown tugged at his features. “I don’t,” he said. He popped the cork out.  “Of course I don’t mind. That sounds great, honey.”

“It’s not very exciting,” you said apologetically.

He didn’t know where this was going. Surely you weren’t upset about the dessert you’d made, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what you really were upset about. He decided to stick with his usual strategy, which was mostly just continuing to be sweet to you. 

“I don’t need exciting, baby,” he said, kissing your cheek. “It’ll be perfect. I can’t wait to try it.”

Working together, but without your usual quips and jokes back and forth, you and Josh put the finishing touches on dinner before the doorbell rang. Josh put his dishtowel over his shoulder and went to welcome your guests in, and he was happy that you joined him.

“You look beautiful, baby,” he said. “I love that dress on you.”

You touched a hand to the neckline of your summery black dress patterned with little red cherries. “Oh, well, it’s only a sundress. But... thank you.” The usual enthusiastic enjoyment of his compliments he loved hearing was nowhere in your voice. He wished he could wait to open the door and ask what was bothering you, but the doorbell was now accompanied by rhythmic knocking the type of which only a drummer could deliver. 

“I’m telling you,” Josh said, trying one last-ditch attempt to coax a smile out of you. “This ethereal living room business — it’s better if it’s just our plain old living room with these hooligans.”

The smile you gave him was clearly only for his sake, not even reaching your eyes. Discouraged and unable to stall any longer, he turned the door handle. 

“I didn’t mean to push this on you,” you blurted. Your expression was anxious and regretful. “I’m sorry, Josh.”

By the time he’d processed what you’d said, the door was already open, and your family was coming inside full of laughter and bearing gifts of wine and appetizers and card games to play. He wanted to jump right into the festive atmosphere his brothers and sister-in-law brought with them, but he was completely preoccupied by your blurted-out apology for... what? What could you have to be sorry for? He looked across the foyer and felt his heart twist when he saw your strained smile as you welcomed your family inside.

“Alright, Kiszkas,” he said with more levity than he felt. He ushered everyone into the living room, pointing out the drinks and snacks on the kitchen island. “Eat, drink, and be merry. Dinner’s almost ready.” 

He asked Danny to watch the sauce simmering on the back of the stove, wanting to try and get a moment with you before dinner. He left Sparrow and his brothers chatting and snacking in the kitchen and found you in the dining room, double-checking the place settings you’d already made perfect an hour before.

“Baby,” he said gently. “What did you mean, you’re sorry for ‘pushing this on me’? Did you mean dinner?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I should have asked you before I planned it.”

He leaned against the doorframe. “You did ask me. Didn’t you?”

“I don’t think so,” you said sheepishly. “I think I just told you I was doing it, and you went along with it.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t mind,” he said sincerely. “I’m glad you planned it.” He debated giving you space or pressing a little deeper, and he risked the latter. He came around the table to the side where you stood.

“I’m glad we’re all spending time together,” he said. He took your hands in his. “I’d like to enjoy it with you, too, but I wouldn't be happy if you were unhappy.”

“I’m not unhappy,” you lied.

“Baby,” he chided tenderly. “You’ve been out of sorts for a little bit now, and I want to help you get back into sorts. I just don’t know how.”

You looked up at him. “Are you sure you’re happy with... all this?”

He raised a brow. “Dinner? Or, like, the universe as a whole?”

You sighed. “No, I mean... do you like being home? Maybe it’s a little lackluster after touring.”

“That could not be farther from the truth,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. Was that all that was bothering you? 

“Silly girl,” he said with a smile. “Of course I like being home. I love being home.”

“But it’s... it’s just... me,” you said lamely. “Just our house.”

“I’m still not seeing a problem,” he said, affectionately teasing. “I love you, and I love our house, especially when it has all the people we love in it drinking all our wine.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Then — “Are you sure?”

For a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. He felt a surprisingly sharp flash of hurt at your doubt. He tamped it down to focus on you, his sweet wife, who apparently felt that his homecoming had been spent wishing he was back out on the road.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he finally said. He cupped your face in his hands, reading something sad and needful in your expression but unable to figure out how to fix it. “I love being home with you, baby. I miss you so much when I’m away. You don’t know that?”

He saw your eyes sparkle with tears and wished desperately he could understand how it had gotten this bad, wished he could figure out how to fix it.

“Hey,” he said softly. He kissed you. “I love you. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

“But it’s not — ”

“It’s perfect,” he said, gently cutting across your protest. “And though I love the way you open our home to our family, even just being with you, eating takeout in our pajamas, would have been perfect too.”

You gave him a watery smile at that, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“There’s that smile,” he said tenderly. He brushed the tears from your face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t enough, baby. You're everything to me. You’re my heart. You know that, don’t you?”

You nodded and kissed him, and he was so happy to have helped even a little. He’d probably ask about it again, try to understand what had made you think such a thing so that you'd never have to think it again. For now, though, your family was waiting, and you seemed eager now to get back to them.

“Don't tell them I was crying,” you said, running your hands over your cheeks, trying to hide the telltale signs. “Tell them we were having a quickie or something.”

He chuckled. “I'm not sure I’m skilled enough for that to be believable, baby. Less than five minutes is a lot to ask.” He kissed your cheek. “And I won’t tell them you were crying. That’s between you and me.” To his way of thinking, a husband's job was to protect his wife at her most vulnerable, not to expose her. These moments between you, the words and soft touches and intimacy you shared — those were just for the two of you, and Josh treasured the privilege of being the one you shared yourself with when you needed a little extra love.

You took his hand, and when he was sure you were ready, he led you back out to where your family waited. 

He saw you return to your usual self as the night went on, and he loved to hear your laugh and watch your smile light up your face as you spent time with your family. Sam, Danny, Jake, and Sparrow — they never failed to bring warmth and light with them wherever they went, and Josh knew that there was no better medicine than their terrible jokes and affectionate bickering and safe, easy love. You were always beautiful, but joy made you ravishing; you shone as brightly as the sun when you were happy, and he felt a weight come off his shoulders as you came back to yourself.

After dinner, you found a spot on the couch; as Josh went to fix glasses of wine for both of you, he watched the drama unfolding in the living room. Catty corner to you, Sam and Jake were playing guitar, Sam casually and Jake with characteristic seriousness; Sparrow sat perched on the arm of Sam’s chair, and Danny sat on the floor.

“Watch him,” Danny said, slipping a hair tie from his wrist and aiming it like a slingshot at Jake. “I bet he won’t stop playing.”

“No, Danny!” Sparrow giggled around the straw stuck in her wine glass. “That would be so mean to my poor Jakey.”

“He wont’ even notice,” Danny said, unable to hide an impish smile. “Watch.”

He shot the hair tie at Jake, and it popped him on the forehead before tumbling down the guitar and landing on the floor. Jake didn’t miss a beat.

Danny and Sparrow dissolved in uproarious laughter, and Jake merely rolled his eyes with a telltale smile.

“You’re all idiots,” he said.

“Not me!” Sam protested. He watched Jake’s fingers, invested in learning the tune now. “I’m trying to play with you, but geez, can you dial it down from rock god so I can figure it out?”

Jake slowed his playing, talking Sam through the notes, and good-naturedly accepted a kiss on his forehead from Sparrow. Danny tried to find the hair tie again and hit Sam with it when he did, earning himself a nudge with Sam’s foot that made Danny laugh and lean his head against Sam’s knee in apology.

Josh brought your drinks over to the couch and handed yours to you. “For you, baby.”

You accepted it gratefully and patted the spot next to you. “Thanks, honey. Come sit with me.”

He did, draping one arm over the back of the couch behind you, pleased when you scooched closer to him. He gave you a sweet, chaste kiss.

“Feeling better, baby?” he asked gently.

You couldn’t help a dull blush, but you gave him a bashful smile. “Yes. I’m sorry I was so... tearful earlier.”

“That’s alright, honey. Would you mind telling me what it was that got you so upset?”

You ran the pad of your thumb over the bottom of your wineglass. He was patient as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“It’s silly,” you said finally. “You’ll either laugh or be annoyed that I made such a big deal about it.”

He considered that. You usually took things in your stride, and neither of you made a habit of being offended or upset over trivial, accidental things. Whatever it was, it had hurt you, and he would validate that feeling no matter what it turned out to be.

“I promise I won’t laugh,” he said. “And I don't think I’ll be annoyed.” He really just wanted to know what it was, and he told you so.

Your nervous, wandering fingers found his, and he was content to let you play with his wedding ring. You brushed your thumb over the shiny gold surface.

“It was your caption,” you said. “You know, for those pictures you posted.”

He was bemused for a moment. “Oh. Really?”

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly. “There’s no greater feeling in the world than returning to the stage. It is my ethereal living room. A place where things feel lighter than air. I love you.”

If anyone had asked him to recite from memory the caption he’d written himself, he couldn't have done it. The fact that you knew it word for word told him you must have been saying it over and over again in your head since you’d read it.

He thought of the wording in light of your feelings and saw how it could have hurt you. It had been their first show back after a long break spent at home, and while you were in your plain old living room at home and missing him, he’d apparently been away in a much better living room doing much more exciting and wonderful things without you. Of course he hadn’t really been comparing a concert to the home he shared with you — it was only an Instagram caption, after all, and not a serious commentary on his life. But even though he felt it was reasonable for you to have known that, he also knew that sometimes the heart wasn’t reasonable.

He twined his fingers with yours. “Sweet baby,” he said. “I’m sorry it hurt you. It wasn’t my intention at all. I don’t know if it helps, but I wasn’t thinking about our real life living room when I wrote that. I just thought it sounded clever.”

“I know,” you said. You gave him a wobbly smile. “It was clever. It’s sweet. And the fans deserve a little love note from you. I just...”

“You just missed me,” he said, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “I know, baby. I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m sorry I made such a big deal out of it. I could have just been honest that I was upset. But really, I should have just taken it like you meant it and not started catastrophizing, thinking you weren’t happy at home.”

“Well, sometimes our imaginations run away with us,” he said, patient and kind. “For the record, I am happy at home with you, baby. You in your old sundress making regular blackberry cobbler is the kind of thing I dream about when I'm away from you. And if I could only have one, I’d pick our less-than-ethereal living room and be glad to share it with you for as long as I lived.”

You touched his cheek. “Why are you so sweet to me?”

“Because I love you very much,” he said simply. He kissed you. “Tell me you know that.”

“I know that,” you said softly, tenderly. “Of course I know that. I love you very much too.”

He kissed you again, taking his time, drawing you closer to him. You tasted like sweet wine and sounded so pretty when your breath caught, your fingers brushing through his curls, your heartbeat light and fast under his hands, almost ethereal.

From the other side of the living room, there was a vague commotion and contagious laughter from Sparrow and his brothers. 

“Should we check on them?” you asked, your voice muffled and smiley as you kissed him.

He chuckled. “They’re fine. Hush and let me kiss you.”

You did, and when you threw your arms around his neck to pull him even closer, he decided you weren’t ethereal after all. The two of you together, surrounded by the ones you loved, laughter and joy and music filling your home — it was something better than ethereal, something earthy and imperfect and steady. For all he loved his work, this right here was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, Mrs. Kiszka,” he said gently.

You smiled and set everything right in his world. “I love you too, Joshy.”

@wideminded-dreamer and @spark-my-nature were particularly excited for this one so hey here you go <3

[demaparbat-hp]

For the Spirits— Chapter VII: Take Me South

Take me south when it's the time

Pour me away like golden wine

I'll form a splash and it will dry

But in the shape of you

—Pure You by Nothing But Thieves

.

Yume placed her hands on her hips and took a step forward. “That I do, yet I can't help but wonder about the timing. Heading South, seeking information on the Tribes…it's all very sudden, don't you think?”

The folded parchment hidden under his vest suddenly seemed to hold the weight of the world. Zuko placed a hand on his chest, where the sketch rested just above his heart. He stared thoughtfully at the floor.

Why now, indeed?

[an-albino-pinetree]

Cw baby tarantula!

(Any rude comments will be deleted!)

You guys, I’m in love QvQ

[masquenoire]

Hey everybody, sorry to have been so quiet lately! Nothing too horrible going on, I assure you but between cleaning an entire house from top to bottom, starting overnight shifts early, setting up a biiiig snake vivarium and getting a new baby to love and care for, it didn't leave much time for writing but now things are settling down! Officially starting overnights tonight and not... you know, Tuesday, but things are as good as they are busy! Hoping to start somewhere tomorrow inbox-wise after a GOOD sleep now that the nerve-wracking part of installing a gigantic vivarium is done for now!

[freaky-flawless]

Reblog and put in the tags how many dolls you've added to your collection in 2023, and what your favorite one is!

[ilovedthestars]

keep seeing posts like “if you leave me a paragraph long ao3 comment I will propose to you.” Thanks? But…no thanks. I’m aro and this is not coming across how you want it to. This is tumblr, the “fuck the heteronormative system” website, surely we can come up with a better Ultimate Expression of Love/Appreciation than marriage

[ducktracy]

"posting this because i NEEEEEED this on my blog" is probably going to be the caption for 95% of the Shin-chan stuff i post BUT IT IS NO LESS TRUE BECAUSE OF IT. Masaaki Yuasa is quickly becoming one of my favorite animators and i want to have easy access to ogle at his work at any time. and i hope for you to do the same! so here's his animation for Ending 3 of the show from 1993

[daughterofsarenrae]

Absolutely horrible timing for me to acquire a fish but look at him. I couldnt just leave him for some dumbass customer to chuck him in a tiny shitty unheated tank. Meet Kal (better pics to come later hopefully)

[zymstarz]

guess whos trying to animate again

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: slight dubcon

You’re not too sure how they passed any sort of prerequisites in order to get into your senior level class, but the duo must be doing something right, you think to yourself. Looking from the corner of your eye you watch them—Shigaraki, the ash haired one, and Dabi, the one with white hair and burn scars covering the lower half of his face. They never seem to pay attention in class, and yet Shigaraki’s papers are always used as exemplary and Dabi is always praised for his high test scores—even higher than your own.

You turn your nose up at them when they both turn to you, must sense the way your eyes strain from where you look at them in the corners. Dabi waves, a little smirk pulling up his lips, and Shigaraki only stares with a tilt of his head and a whisper to his friend. They unnerve you, the duo, with their empty eyes and haunting little smiles thrown your way, with their taunting calls of tutoring you when you find out that you’ve come third place to them, again.

But maybe you do need the help, the extra support. You don’t go to them necessarily, but instead the library, looking for a tutor. You feel ambushed when you’re greeted by Dabi sitting behind the librarians desk with his own name tag and Cheshire grin.

“Knew you’d need a tutor sooner or later, sweetheart,” his voice is so grating, so demeaning, so—so hot. It makes your thighs squeeze together and your eyebrows furrow. You can’t think of him like that, shouldn’t be getting so close to a scary weirdo that looks like he might eat you if you step too close.

“Shiggy’s in room 205.” Dabi tells you, nods his head over to a back room, and you stay rooted to your spot, too embarrassed to admit that you don’t know where that room is. Dabi cocks an eyebrow at your shifting legs before it all must click to him. He sighs a quiet little ‘ahh’ before he stands, rounding the desk, as he guides you into the private rooms.

When he gets there, Shigaraki is already sitting there with his feet on the table and a game controller in hand. He doesn’t say much when Dabi tells him what you’re there for—an extra boost in knowledge, you chime in, to which they both just snicker at you—before you find yourself sitting between the both of them. Why Dabi is still there is a question you’re still asking yourself, but you try to ignore him when Shigaraki starts explaining difficult topics as if they were the easiest thing in the world while still maintaining first place in his game.

You’re so wrapped up in defending your smarts to Shigaraki when you can’t answer a question, you almost miss the way Dabi pats condescendingly at your thigh. Your head whips around to him, at his hot grip on your skin, eyes widening when you’re met with his close proximity. His eyes are a lot bluer up close, you think to yourself, rearing back suddenly when his smirk is devious enough to send a shiver up your back.

Your pull away is only met with another hard chest against your back, gasping, as you turn to look at the offender behind you. Shigaraki is even closer this time, and you can feel the puff of his breath against your lips, wonder how a persons eyes could be as bright and vivid as his own.

“What’re you—“ your question falls on a pair of silencing lips, Shigaraki pulling you into a kiss so rough that it makes your teeth knock and a groan press from his mouth to yours. Dabi wants in on the action, pulls your face away to kiss sweetly at your lips, hands loosely around your neck as he tilts your head every way he wants.

Shigaraki pulls you back to him, but Dabi follows this time, his mouth still on yours. You gasp, clinging onto both of their shirts when two tongues are skimming and swiping the insides of your mouth, their wet muscles sliding against the others.

“Figured this was all you wanted,” Dabi chuckles against your mouth, grin pulling at his lips when you gasp and start trying to deny it. It’s hard though, when you’re being wrestled onto the table by rough and dry hands, when your bottoms are being ripped down, and your hands are pinned beside your head.

“Get—get off’a me!” You try to wriggle away, but Dabi only tuts down at you, shushes you with a little mocking pout.

“But you’ve wanted this for so long now, didn’t you? We’ve seen the way you look at us,” Dabi’s tone is dismissive, his eyes glued on his friend who moves your underwear to the side. Shigaraki’s eyes are low and hooded as he takes in the strings of slick that snap from your inner thigh, the glossy part of your lips as he spreads your legs wider to accommodate his body.

“Besides, by the time we’re finished with you, you’re gonna be begging for more.” Shigaraki’s voice is downright cruel, before he’s swooping down to lick a long stripe from your taint all the way up to your clit. You groan at that, eyes fluttering, back arching off of the table. Dabi holds you down though, keeps you pinned to the table while his tongue explores the valleys of your skin. You can only lay there and take everything given to you, wondering all the while, how they knew this was a fantasy of yours for weeks now.