#too much. too much effort into this. far too much. why. why.... i know why pointless to qsk its becwuse i didnt want to do things irl

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

hii i love ur work and was wondering if u can write where reader has a panic attack and sukuna is there to comfort them!! if not that’s okay 💜💜

Panicky

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, tw panic attack, description of separation anxiety, soft!sukuna, fluff, comfort

An: you guys know how much i love writing soft!sukuna.

The sick sinking feeling arrives as an intrusive thought at first. When Sukuna has been gone, away handling “curse affairs” for too long, your brain will play tricks on you. What if he’s not coming back? What if he’s in trouble?

The realistic side of you knows that Sukuna has lived for thousands of years, and it’d take an army of the strongest sorcerers to take him down, but those thoughts still slither into your mind when he isn’t there to talk some sense into you.

He had been gone for too long. He said he wasn’t going far, so why has he been gone for four days? You paced the parlor back and forth, trying to come up with some reason that your king hasn’t returned.

His servants watch you in confusion, but not one of them dares to ask you what’s wrong. Humans were such strange creatures. They didn’t bother trying to deduce what had you in such a panic.

Your footsteps are growing heavy, and your heart is thudding so loudly in your chest that you can feel it in your throat. He’s dead. He’s gone. He’s not coming back.

The negative thoughts just won’t stop — swirling around in your head to where you feel woozy almost. Nothing makes sense. You can’t even form a rational thought before your body crashes against a piece of furniture.

Your eyes are bleary with tears as you take the opportunity to sit. Though, you’re still just as restless: tapping your foot against the floor, rubbing your shaky hands against your thighs while you try to rock yourself back and forth. He’s never coming back! Did you even tell him you loved him before he left? He’s dying somewhere, and you’re too pathetic to save him!

Your body is trembling, and your soft weeping alarms the curses that are now hiding from you because they have no idea what to do.

You’re so worked up, anxiety filling your ears to where you don’t even hear him teleport into the room.

Sukuna’s eyes rest upon your fragile figure, and his face contorts in a perplexed expression. “Leave us.” His gruff voice tells Uraume.

“What ails you?” He asks as he crouches down to see you at eye-level. His first thoughts are how he’s going to torture the pest who made you feel this way.

You look up as your breath is escaping you faster than you can try to gulp it down. Sukuna’s there. He’s alive, but your body is still set in fight or flight mode. You can’t recognize that there is no danger in front of you.

Sukuna doesn’t know what to do. You can’t even speak a word without heaving for breath. He can’t get to the bottom of your sorrow without you telling him. So, he wraps his strong arms around you, and he pulls you to his chest, smushing you against his muscles.

“Breathe, woman. There is plenty of time.” He adjusts his body, so he’s sitting on the couch, and you’re tucked into his chest on his lap.

The crushing feeling of Sukuna’s weighted arms actually works wonders. You try to ground yourself and listen to the rhythm of his beating heart.

“There you go.” His gravely voice is softer when he speaks to you. You’re as delicate as a flower in his hands. He has to make a conscious effort to be gentle with you. His calloused war-plagued palm carefully rubs your back in soothing circles. “Match your breath to mine.”

“I-I thought.. thought you weren’t coming… weren’t coning back.” You stumble your way through your words. The panic is still coming, but it’s in much more manageable - smaller waves.

“Who falsely informed you of such?” Sukuna asks, the need for retribution for your stress evident in his tone. Someone will have to pay for his flower’s distress.

“Well, no one in particular…” You mutter quietly. Now that the panic is subsiding, the embarrassment starts to kick in. “I just got worried..”

“Worried for my safety, huh?” Sukuna muses. It’s a laughable thought. One, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Two, no one worries for his safety. He’s sure that even his court and his people would celebrate if he were to die. Yet, here you were in shambles from the thought.

“Such a peculiar human.” His arms tighten around you, embracing him in his oversized form. “There is no need to worry. I have no intentions of leaving you.”

“But what if there’s an army of sorcerers trying to kill you?” You ask a hypothetical like a child who’s trying to rationalize the world around them.

“Then, I will kill them and come home to you.” He speaks so matter-of-fact, like there’s not a doubt in his mind that he’d win.

“What if there’s too many of them?”

“I will still kill them and come home to you. Do you doubt your king?” He raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you.

“No, never.” You assure him, burying your face into his shoulder.

“I will limit my duties to three days maximum, since my human cannot handle being away from me for so long.” He gives you an amusing smile, and he presses a tender kiss to your forehead. It’s truly fascinating how a delicate flower like you fell in love with a monster like him.

[yourstarstruckbeloved]

first glimpse of red

in which seishiro nagi veers dangerously close to the path of nihility.

content/warnings: 1.1k words, blue lock x hsr au??? cross fandom fic— this is not a shipfic!!! acheron is here purely as a guide, a LOT of discussion of nihilism and pointlessness and such, like two mentions of death, acheron might be ooc warning, if there’s anything i missed pls let me know

author’s note: i’ve been OBSESSED with the idea of nihility follower nagi— well, not an emanator since emanators of nihility technically can’t exist, so at least whatever acheron is. this is me trying to coherently put it all into words <3

seishiro nagi rubs his eyes and stretches, yawning as he does so. he boots up his PC once more, and shuts it back off when he realises that even playing another game would be too much effort. nagi is tired. sighing as he closes his eyes, seishiro nagi slumps on his chair. the time blurs into monochrome. 

reason.

what reason did nagi have to do anything at all? why does he wake up in the morning just to go back to sleep at night? he immediately discards the thoughts from his mind, concluding that it would be a hassle to think about them anymore. and unknowingly, he finds himself walking a step closer towards the edge of the looming blackhole in the horizon of existence. nagi isn’t someone who spends his time dwelling on matters like this— he’d much rather get to the root of a problem as quickly as possible and cut it right off, so it would never grow to be a bother again.

nagi doesn’t know what path he treads on. all he knows is he tends to choose those with easy exits and no catches. what does he even want? it just so happens that the easiest path nagi finds himself to be able to tread on is one of listless monochrome. a lot of people have asked him why he finds everything to be a hassle. he shrugs and says that he doesn’t know. it’s true that he doesn’t, but it’s not like he’s ever bothered to find the answer to the question. and it’s not like he’s asked himself why he doesn’t bother.

nagi doesn’t care. he’s been this way for as long as he could remember. 

he meets a purple haired woman in his journey through IX’s landscape. acheron is someone that accidentally stepped into the path of nihility and ventured a bit too far into IX’s shadow. for a fleeting moment, nagi wonders why she couldn’t just have steered course away from nihility, but realises he doesn’t care that much about the answer.

pointlessness.

it finally dawns on him, why he thinks of everything as a hassle. the answer had always been with him, he never had to go look. all of nagi’s actions stem from wanting to eradicate all burden and hassle from his life. he recounts this to acheron, and she comes to the realisation that she and nagi probably weren’t cut from the same cloth; they were two individuals on vastly different courses of life, that happened to intersect at this very moment. unlike acheron who happened to be thrown onto this path completely by accident, nagi seemed like he was destined to follow nihility since birth. he’d always found everything pointless, enough to feel disengaged from everyone and everything around him to some degree, at least. 

but then again, unlike acheron, nagi has an easier exit from this path than she does. she’s carved this one singular path for herself out of the hardest stone, in a resolve to reach the light beyond the black disc of nothingness, and to guide people who cross paths with her by making them pick a certain choice that she offers.

well… calling it a choice offered by her would be putting it in the crudest and vaguely inaccurate terms. she’s not the one steering their lives, even for this fleeting moment; she could never take credit for such a thing. she simply shows people possibilities, and lets them decide for themselves which one they’d like to walk towards.

nagi can articulate now that the basis of his attitude to most things in life is because of the pointlessness he associates with everything. so, what now?

but then this leads acheron to question if nagi truly was someone born for nihility, or if he was just another one of the poor souls that was led astray and accidentally ended up on IX’s monochrome path; because, well, no one’s point of existence could truly be to pursue nihility— anyways, it’s not like the answer to that question matters, she surmises.

there is nothing left for nagi to do in this reality except for think, and so he does. why did he keep pressing on until this moment despite the pointlessness of his existence? well, he wouldn’t say he particularly pressed on to live— had death come knocking on his door, he would’ve followed it out with a shrug of his shoulders. do you keep living despite the pointlessness of it all, or do you actively try to find meaning in your actions?

cut that out, the answer to that question is pointless— humans keep living on, regardless of their answers.

slowly, the pieces of the puzzle come together. some pieces are still missing, but he gets the wider picture. in a first, he asks acheron why humans strive to keep living despite the void of meaninglessness that the universe is based upon. she tells him that red is the colour of existence, and that it will be the first colour that will bloom, only for a fleeting moment in this monochrome universe. she asks him if he would roam in search of that first streak of crimson or if he would pick up a brush and paint it into existence. and when a choice is made, it shall reappear once more. in other words, will you search for meaning, or will you create meaning for yourself?

nagi wonders why her question wasn’t about following the halo of light at the end of nothingness— isn’t acheron a guide to those who walk this path? almost as if she hears his thoughts, she clarifies that it would be a pointless question for her to ask. his mouth opens to question her once more, but the word why? gets caught in his throat, as the realisation hits him like a speeding truck. every life is destined to end with the nihility, no matter what— it’s almost like a primal instinct, the way every being is naturally drawn to the light beyond the nothingness. perhaps, that is why a life that edges closer to death fervently approaches nihility, and further aspires to reach the end of it. so, will you strive to fill your life with meaning, or will you willingly thrust yourself into the meaningless pursuit of the primordial light, like acheron has?

he understands now. he picks up a paintbrush that lies fallen at his feet, streaks and blotches of red trailing with its bristles. he walks, but acheron doesn’t care to discern whether he’s walking towards the blackhole or not. she smiles wistfully, slashing her blade and tearing apart the spatio-temporal fabric of the horizon of existence. seishiro nagi wakes up in a cold sweat, finding himself in front of his PC once more, the words you died plastered in big red letters on his screen.

[sturnswrites]

back to you - pt. 2

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

⤳ angst, crying, fluff, kissing 

⤳ you and matt break up after you leave for college but when summer break comes around you both can’t seem to shake the feeling of one another away.

---------------------------------------------

The night air was cool as you followed Matt away from the noise of the party. Your heart raced with every step, your mind whirling with questions you weren’t sure you wanted the answers to. The backyard stretched into quiet darkness, string lights flickering above like hesitant stars.

He stopped near the edge of the yard, turning to face you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension hanging thick between you.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “what did you want to talk about?”

Matt shifted, his hands finding the pockets of his hoodie as he looked down at the grass. “I just… I wanted to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, your skepticism showing. “You dragged me out here to ask how I’m doing?”

He winced, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, that sounded bad. I just mean—I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I didn’t know how else to say it.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, but you pushed the feeling down. “Well, I’m fine. College is good. Busy, but good.”

Matt nodded quickly, like he was clinging to every word. “That’s good. That’s great. I figured you’d be killing it out there. What’s your favorite class so far?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is this really what we’re doing? Small talk?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I want to know how you’ve been. I missed you, okay?”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to keep your voice steady. “You missed me? Really? Because it didn’t seem like that when you broke up with me, Matt.”

His shoulders sagged, and he let out a long breath. “I know. I know I messed up. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. To explain.”

“Explain what?” you asked, crossing your arms. “That you didn’t think we were worth the effort? That you thought I’d be better off without you?”

His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. “That’s not what I thought.”

“Then what did you think?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you—from me, from the distance, from everything that could go wrong. But I was wrong, Y/N. I was an idiot for leaving you.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “Matt—”

“Let me finish,” he interrupted, stepping closer. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but all I’ve done since then is regret it. You were the best thing in my life, and I threw it away because I was too scared to believe we could make it work.” He paused, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “But I’m not scared anymore. I want to make this right. Make us right.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke you. You wanted to throw your arms around him, to let yourself believe that things could go back to the way they were. But you couldn’t ignore the part of you that was still hurt, still hesitant.

“You think it’s that simple?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You say you want me back, and we just forget everything that happened?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I know it’s not simple. I know I have a lot to make up for. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes—if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. “You really hurt me, Matt.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes full of regret. “And I’ll spend as long as it takes proving to you that I’m not going to hurt you again.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you hated how much you still loved him, how much you wanted to believe he meant every word. “I’ve been trying so hard to move on,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

His breath hitched, and he stepped even closer, his hand hovering near yours. “You don’t have to move on,” he said. “We can figure this out together. If you still want me—if there’s even a chance—please, Y/N. Let me try.”

You looked into his eyes, and for the first time in months, you let yourself hope. “I never stopped wanting you,” you admitted.

Matt exhaled shakily, and before you could second-guess yourself, he closed the distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, as if he was pouring every unsaid word into that one moment.

- 

The party was a distant memory as you walked into Matt’s house, the one you hadn’t been inside since last summer. The air inside was familiar, carrying the faint scent of laundry detergent and candles you were sure Nick insisted on burning. Memories tugged at your heart—laughing on the couch with his brothers, late-night talks in the kitchen, falling asleep in his arms on that very couch after a movie marathon.

The door clicked shut behind you, and Matt hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, do you want water or something? I don’t know how long you want to stay, but—”

“Water’s fine,” you said softly, your eyes scanning the space. The house looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Or maybe it was you who had changed.

Matt disappeared into the kitchen, and you wandered into the living room. Your fingers brushed against the back of the couch, your mind flashing to all the times you’d sat there together, tangled in each other’s arms, talking about everything and nothing.

“Here,” Matt said, breaking the silence. You turned to find him holding out a glass of water.

“Thanks.” You took it, your fingers brushing his, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Do you… want to go to my room?” he asked tentatively.

You hesitated. That room held so many memories, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to face them. But you nodded anyway, following him down the hall.

When you stepped inside, your chest tightened. Everything was the same—the posters on the walls, the rumpled comforter on the bed, the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air. It was like stepping back in time, except now there was an invisible wall of tension between you.

Matt hovered near the door, rubbing his hands together nervously. “You can sit down, you know. You don’t have to stand there like it’s some kind of museum.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension. “It kind of feels like one,” you admitted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He joined you, the mattress dipping under his weight. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you.

“Why does this feel so weird?” you asked finally.

“Because we’re not the same people we were a year ago,” he said, his voice low.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your hands. “Yeah. We’re not.”

Matt shifted closer, his knee brushing yours. “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I mean… we’ve changed, sure. But the way I feel about you hasn’t.”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your voice steady. “Matt, I don’t know if I can just… pretend like everything’s okay again. You broke my heart.”

He winced, his hand running through his hair. “I know. And I’ll never stop regretting that. But, Y/N, I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. Just… tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

The vulnerability in his voice cracked something inside you. “I don’t know what I need, Matt,” you admitted. “I just know that being here with you—it’s messing with my head.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. “I don’t want to mess with your head, Y/N. I just want to show you that I’m still the guy who loves you more than anything. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you blinked them away. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not simple,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “It’s messy, and it’s going to take time. But I’m willing to fight for it—for you. If you’ll let me.”

Your heart was pounding, and before you could overthink it, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that felt like both an ending and a beginning. He froze for a moment, as if he couldn’t believe it was happening, and then he kissed you back with a desperation that took your breath away.

His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss deepened, every ounce of love, regret, and longing pouring into it. When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathing hard.

“God, I missed you,” Matt whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smiled faintly, your chest aching in the best way. “I missed you too.”

-

After hours of being tangled in each others embrace, you had decided it was too late to go home and that you would stay the night. 

Matt settled beside you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, but you couldn’t fully relax.

He noticed immediately. “You okay?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

You hesitated, then sighed. “I just… I need time to adjust to your existence again.”

He hummed softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

His words settled something in you, and you let yourself relax against him, his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

-

One month later, you found yourself back in Matt’s room, perched on the edge of his bed. The atmosphere was warm and familiar, but there was a quiet weight in the air that neither of you could ignore. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—reconnecting in ways that made your heart race, stolen moments of laughter, and soft touches that reminded you of the love you once shared. But there was something still unspoken between you, something that needed to be addressed.

Matt sat across from you, cross-legged on the bed, his fingers idly toying with the hem of his hoodie. He seemed nervous, his eyes darting to you and then quickly away, like he was trying to find the right words but was afraid of what they might mean.

You broke the silence first, unable to take the tension anymore. “We’ve been avoiding this conversation, haven’t we?”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, we have.”

You tucked your legs underneath you, the comforter soft beneath your fingers as you fidgeted with it. “We’ve been spending so much time together, Matt, but we haven’t really talked about… what this is.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze finally meeting yours. “I know. And I think about it all the time. I just… I didn’t want to push you. I wanted to give you the space to figure out what you wanted.”

Your heart ached at his thoughtfulness, but it also made you more anxious. “And what about you? What do you want, Matt?”

He let out a heavy breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I want this. I want you. But I need to know that you’re ready for that too. I don’t want to rush you into something you’re not sure about.”

The honesty in his voice made you feel like the room had shrunk, like it was just the two of you in this little bubble of vulnerability. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, and he immediately took it, holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through, Matt. And the thought of going through that again…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “It terrifies me.”

His grip on your hand tightened, his gaze unwavering. “It terrifies me too,” he said softly. “But I’m more terrified of not trying. Of letting you slip away again because I was too afraid to fight for what we have.”

You blinked back tears, your chest tightening with emotion. “What if we mess it up again? What if—”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he interrupted gently. “Together. Y/N, I can’t promise that everything will be perfect, but I can promise you this—I’ll fight for us. Every single day. Because not having you in my life was… it was the worst mistake I’ve ever made. And I’m not making it again.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold back the tears that slipped down your cheeks. He reached out, cupping your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the wetness as it fell.

“I love you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I never stopped loving you, Y/N. And I’m not letting you go again. Not now, not ever.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, the weight of his words sinking into you. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I never stopped either.”

The relief on his face was immediate, and without hesitation, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was slow and tender, full of all the emotions you’d both been holding back for so long. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you felt like the world had melted away, leaving only the two of you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. “So what does this mean?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his hoodie.

“It means we take it one day at a time,” Matt said, his voice steady. “No pressure, no expectations. Just us, figuring it out.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think I can handle that.”

He grinned, his boyish charm making your heart flutter. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go again, Y/N. You’re stuck with me.”

You laughed, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like he never wanted to let go. In that moment, the fear and uncertainty faded, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a new beginning.

And for the first time in months, you felt like everything might just be okay.

---------------------------------------------

heheh ok i'm actually obsessed with this

⭒ margot

[crissiebaby]

A Costumed Cutie

“I-Is this a joke?” mumbled Amity, holding the lid of an all-black garment box in both hands as she gazed upon the white and pink bodysuit that was neatly folded inside. It was the eve of Halloween, and while her partners, Lexxi and Erin, had made plans to attend a lavish costume party, she had elected to stay home this October 31st; too socially anxious to dare spending the night in a crowded ballroom. As such, the idea of picking out a costume never even crossed her mind, making it all the more peculiar that such a well-crafted outfit had mysteriously appeared in her room.

Being an avid Gacha gamer, there was no question in Amity’s mind over which character’s outfit the costume was meant to emulate; the pattern on the chest was practically a dead giveaway. Sure enough, as she lifted the romper and its accompanying cape from the box, it was a nigh perfect replica of Paimon’s clothing from Genshin Impact. She scoffed timidly at the childish attire, flipping it back and forth to examine it from every angle. “I told them I didn’t wanna go. Why go through all this trouble?”

While not much of a costume partier, Amity couldn’t deny her affinity for dressing up, especially in cute outfits. Moreover, Paimon was her favorite Genshin character; a fact well-known by both her partners. “Alright fine, you win,” she muttered, carefully draping the bodysuit across her bed before stripping herself down to her underwear. The white, cotton top was very easy to equip, sliding along her torso and tightening against her crotch in a revealing manner; a far cry from her reserved style of dress. Despite her efforts to remain poised, her heart fluttered as she draped the star-covered cape over her shoulders to complete the ensemble. 

FLASH!

Without warning, the stars scattered along Amity’s cape began to glow so bright that her entire room became engulfed in blinding light. Her feet lifted off the ground, causing her to float inches off the floor as her clothing began to transform. Specifically, the garments she wore under her costume took on the biggest change, swelling between her thighs and poofing out around her hips until her panties were fully replaced with a bulky cloth diaper. Finishing off her transformation, a pair of white stockings with pink frills wrapped themselves around her feet while Paimon’s trademark black hairpin and sparkly, hovering crown suddenly popped into existence upon her head.

“Huh? What the…a d-diaper?!” shouted Amity, still levitating in midair as she attempted to pry at the magical outfit and foreign padding from her body. To her dismay, not a single piece of her costume would so much as budge. “Why won’t it come off?!” A deep line of crimson coated her cheeks and nose as she tugged at the plush diaper, finding it impossible to ignore the doki-doki feelings that came with being dressed in such a sweet and lewd fashion.

“Hehe! Now, why would she want to take it off when she looks so cute this way?”

“I don’t know, Erin. Maybe she’s just shy.”

Whipping her head toward her bedroom door, the intensity of Amity’s blush instantly doubled as her partners finally made their presence known. “Good thing my Eldritch magic fused that costume to her figure until the end of Halloween. Now, she has no choice but to come with us to the party,” teased Lexxi, rushing over to hug her levitating partner while dressed up as the axe-wielder, Susie, from Deltarune.

“Indeed! We’ll have to thank Jade for helping us make Amity’s costume when we get to the party. Although, you can thank yours truly for the diaper attachment. I know how much we all enjoy them,” quipped Erin, sporting an equally thick diaper beneath her yellow Chocobo suit. A cheeky smile curled across her face as she formed a group hug with Lexxi that squished Amity between their bodies. “Happy Halloween, cutie.”

💜 Artwork By CodiBaby 💜 💕 Story By CrissieBaby 💕 💛 Commissioned By zoomietot 💛

SubscribeStar: subscribestar.adult/crissiebaby pixivFANBOX: crissiebaby.fanbox.cc All CB Links: linktr.ee/crissiebaby

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Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: DD JFN Nike pandadragonbaby Pansy Jason Sissikins PrincessKittenLizzi Rosie Princess SissyDina Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca Tony & One Anonymous Investor

[spoopdeedoop]

real friends have weird greetings that usually involve hitting each other

[horsemeatluvr23]

the juppet !! i just realised he is jerma posing i swear that was unintentional...... i spent so long digging thru muppet concept art and looking at old puppet designs just to end up doing a rly simple drawing but. i love joehills!! i have only been watching them for like 4 years but their videos r so special to me :3

[cent-scratchnsniff]

elaborate self hate and ungodly amounts of yapping. underneath is just the main ones without text on it

[spacebubblehomebase]

Without colors or context, this simple and stupid comic of mine feels so, so tense; It's ominous. The difference from the tone of my last doodle is low-key hilarious though. But please, *insert ace joke here* cause I swear this is nothing serious. I don't even know why I gave in so much effort or show ya'll my progress before finishing, yet here we are. -Bubbly💙

[travelbasscase]

me when my disability disables me:

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[quietwingsinthesky]

youtube stop recommending me that five hour long “fall of doctor who” video challenge. there is not a video i could be less interested in watching.

[jaevy]

your room was square

i once noticed from there

in your bed, as you slept

and i held my breath

everything had its own place

and i wondered what space would i take

in the order you kept

[risingsunresistance]

twitter is entering their "rts > likes" phase now that likes are private after they spent years calling us ungrateful for being demotivated by ratios lmao

[fiendishartist2]

[corpocyborg]

it's honestly a tragedy that so few people chose morinth over samara that they didn't even bother putting morinth in me3. like i don't blame the players bc the narrative clearly discourages most players by positioning choosing morinth as the evil choice. but i swear to god if you actually talk to her after choosing her you will see it is not that simple. the situation isn't nearly as clear cut and black & white as they make it out to be and either choice could be justified as the "good" or "evil" choice.

[ssaalexblake]

do you ever have revelatory moments over just How much somebody in your life makes you walk over eggshells? Because i'm at the end of a roll of wrapping paper, it's fine because i bought another one and all, but i got my sister two gifts and there's only enough to wrap one of the gifts with the old one and i'd have to stary the next one for the other gift, and i realised that i'm sitting here Genuinely actually worried that she'll conjure some offensive meaning from the ether as to why i used two different types of paper to wrap her gifts and get angry at me for it and have a tantrum of some kind(or, more probable, find some batshit way to blame me using two different giftwraps on our mother) and???? why tf is this my life lol