#Sticky Notes

[yonceknowles]

sometimes you just gotta say "oh brother" and move on

[night-the-starfish]

Miku has been all over the world by now but has she been to the animal kingdom? 🤨

[planetary-00]

Every day the voices tell me things

[dejaysus]

In the stripped club. Straight up "shrimpin it". And by "it", haha well. Let's just say. My Poscas

[dendrilart]

Sticky Note Monsters

[giggleribs]

What really happened

[unu-nunu-art]

My Secret Shop is open once again!

(until Apr 30th)

I have only limited stock and want to make sure that I have enough for the upcoming con in May, so it's still available for Patrons only. Sorry qwq

But! There are a few new things postcards, stickers and more! Plus every Patron can order, regardless of their tier!

I hope you'll find something that you like :3

[myobsessionsaid]

THE VOICES

[tb-png]

The first time cas got flustered was when he realized how much bigger sam was than him hehe

[aidan-draws]

Robert Pattinson's Bruce Wayne in his drifter disguise. Drawn on a sticky note!

[aetherraeys]

sticky notes

remus lupin x forgetful!reader ⊹ 1.3k

cw ⟢ fluff, domestic life, reader wears glasses/contacts, established relationship, reader has hair long enough to tie up, vet!remus has my heart!!

Remus always knew exactly what you needed—you think he may be a mind-reader, even when miles away he's still coming to your rescue.

Not long into your relationship did you realise the extent Remus would go to to make sure you were comfortable. When you would scurry, sock-clad, around your shared flat, looking for things that are clearly hidden in plain sight, Remus couldn’t help but let the corners of mouth curl into a small knowing smile.

He’d watch you for a moment, amused, before finally stepping in—plucking the missing object from its obvious hiding place with an effortless grace that made you huff in exasperation.

“Looking for this, dove?” he’d tease, holding it just out of reach with that infuriatingly gentle smile. And though you’d try to feign annoyance, you could never truly be frustrated—not when he always knew exactly where to find the things you lost, and not when he always handed them over with the softest brush of fingers against yours, as if he relished every excuse to touch you.

“How do you always know?”, folding in the too long cuff of the jumper you had 'borrowed' from Remus, patting down your body, hastily checking pockets, again searching for something else that you somehow never had at the right moment. Coming to the rescue again, Remus handed over one of the many hairbands he kept adorned on his wrists for these very moments.

You looked up at him as he looped the band around your fingers, his touch lingering for just a second too long. His eyes, warm and impossibly fond, crinkled at the edges as he shrugged.

"It’s my job to know," he murmured, watching as you hastily tied your hair back, oblivious to the way his gaze traced each movement.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "Your job?"

"Mhm," he hummed, reaching out to fix the sleeve you’d sloppily folded, his fingers deft and careful. "Someone has to keep track of all the things you forget."

There was no teasing in his voice, only quiet devotion, and it made your heart squeeze and heat crawl up your chest, settling at the back of your neck.

He always seemed to be one step ahead of your forgetful tendencies, so much so that even when he wasn’t physically around, he still was able to predict just exactly what you’d need.

Remus would be gone the whole weekend, called out to support in the surgery of a young mare, having packed an overnight bag—pressing a final kiss on your forehead in farewell, “I’ll call you once I’m off the train, okay, dove?”

You had nodded sleepily, wrapped in the cocoon of another one of his jumper, murmuring a soft “Mhm, be safe.” And just like that, he was gone, leaving the house feeling a little too quiet in his absence.

When you woke up, far too late into the afternoon, the sun lightly streaming in through the gaps of the blinds in your room. A prolonged session of tossing and turning later, small groans leaving your lips as stretch your sleep-ridden muscles.

With a sigh, you blinked blearily at the room, the world around you still a soft blur. It took only a second for you to realise—your glasses were missing.

Muttering under your breath, you patted around the bedside table, coming up empty. The dresser? No. The desk? Not there either. You ran a hand through your hair, groaning in frustration as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, padding toward the bathroom in defeat.

Rubbing your eyes too hard, a small kaleidoscope bursting behind your lids; mentally preparing yourself for a long day of dry eyes and extra long blinks from wearing your lenses.

And there it was—a familiar scrap of yellow stuck to the mirror.

"Cabinet, dove. You left them on the kitchen table last night—again. Figured you’d need them first thing. Hope you slept well. Miss you already."

A sleepy smile tugged at your lips as you opened the cabinet, and sure enough, your glasses sat neatly inside, waiting for you. Shaking your head, you slipped them on, the world snapping into sharp focus, the note in the mirror now clearer—his careful handwriting filled with so much quiet affection.

The rest of the weekend passed quicker than you had expected, but as the moon lowered passed the skyline on the day of Remus’ return. You'd been stationed at your dining table, getting ahead on your work tasks assigned for the next morning—in hopes of leaving early and preparing Remus’ favourite dish, as a small token of appreciation.

Mindlessly reaching over to your mug, now less than half full of gone-cold tea. Your stomach protested with a small rumble; as you took a reluctant sip, wrinkling your nose at the cold temperature. With a sigh, you set the mug down and rubbed at your eyes, feeling the exhaustion of staring at your screen all day settle behind your eyes.

Your stomach rumbled again, louder this time, demanding attention. Pushing yourself up, you shuffled toward the kitchen, in search of a snack, that you noticed the small note stuck to the biscuit tin.

"Knew you’d come looking. Enjoy, love. P.S. Check the coat rack."

Scoffing, but grinning despite yourself, you padded over to the front door. Sure enough, hanging from the hook was your scarf—the one you had sworn you lost last week. And tucked into the pocket was another little note in his neat, slanted handwriting:

"It was in the laundry basket. Again."

You huffed out a laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. He really thought of everything, didn’t he?

You waited in the corner of seat of the settee, legs folded beneath you, covered with a blanket—as you exhaled heavily through your nose. The moon already hung high in the night sky, the clock above the TV read, 00:37am.

Dragging your feet back into you room, you sighed from the door frame, almost glaring at your bed. Too big, too cold, too empty just for you. Instead of moping into bed, you grabbed your (Remus’) pillow and retreated back into the living room. A full weekend of sleeping alone wasn’t in your cards, but alas, surely he was caught up with something completely unavoidable.

By the time Remus tiredly trudged into your home, it was nearly half-past four in the morning; setting his duffel bag down, like it weighed so much more than the mere few kilos of scrubs and work shoes and books inside. His shoulders ached, his limbs heavy with exhaustion, but none of it mattered the moment he caught sight of you—curled up on the couch, fast asleep, you glasses hanging recklessly off your nose—’are you still watching?’, displayed on the TV.

He exhaled softly, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips as he toed off his shoes, careful not to make too much noise. Of course, you had tried to stay up for him. He should have known.

Shaking his head fondly, he draped the throw blanket more securely over you before crouching down beside the couch. His fingers traced gently over the edge of your sleeve, his touch featherlight, hesitant to wake you. But still, as if you could sense him even in sleep, you stirred—your nose scrunching before your eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused.

"Rem?" Your voice was thick with sleep, barely above a whisper.

"It’s me, dove," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your wrist in a slow, soothing motion. "You didn’t have to stay up for me, y’know."

But instead, you reached for him, your fingers curling around the front of his coat, tugging him just close enough that he couldn't resist pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Missed you," you mumbled against his collar.

"Missed you more," he admitted, his voice barely more than a sigh as he gathered you into his arms, sinking into the warmth of home at last.

[yonceknowles]

thank god for lesbians. and double to mean lesbians

[poppng]

☆ lovecore PNGs made by me ੈ✩‧₊˚

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚pls like or reblog if you use! ty ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

[nora-yoko]

[pratchettquotes]

"I've come to..."

The Patrician stopped and prodded at one of the drawings.

"There's a piece of yellow paper stuck to this one," he said, suspiciously. He pulled at it. It came away from the drawing with a faint sucking noise, and then stuck to his fingers. On the note, in Leonard's crabby backward script, were the words: "krow ot smees sihT: omeM".

"Oh, I'm rather pleased with that," said Leonard. "I call it my 'Handy-note-scribbling-piece-of-paper-with-glue-that-comes-unstuck-when-you-want'."

The Patrician played with it for a while.

"What's the glue made of?"

"Boiled slugs."

The Patrician pulled the paper off one hand. It stuck to the other hand.

Terry Pratchett, Men At Arms

[emzurl]

Sticky memo pad set!! These, along with the charms and washi tape, have been shipped out from my manu. Once I receive them, all that's left are the pins and then I can start shipping everyone's orders! 🎉