#anyways... my babies are back TODAY. TO-DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wonubby]

obsessed - k! bakugo

2. hire someone to 'leak' crude pictures of the two of you on holiday

synopsis - despite knowing you've successfully bagged katsuki bakugou, aka pro hero dynamight, his fans are still shipping him with his ex. so what's a better way to claim him than leaving little trails of your love on him? specifically, his body.

warnings – fluffy and suggestive, bakugo death mention but only briefly.

prev - masterlist - next

katsuki wasn't stupid. he knew what your plan was, and honestly? he didn't give two fucks. you were bound to reach your breaking point one day.

he actually loves this side of you. you matched his inner freak on some level. of course, he was still crowned as the 'bitch' in your relationship, given his infuriating attitude.

you, however, were overjoyed. everything fell into place.

phase one? complete. phase two? already in motion.

you and katsuki had travelled to the Bahamas for the week. it was a little getaway for the two of you since he's always busy fighting.

the first two days were spent wrapped in the sheets. the warm air creating a sexy atmosphere that kept the male going. something about fucking in the heat, getting all sweaty, and using his quirk in the midst of the act got him heated.

not that you were complaining though; you were blessed with the most amazing orgasms of your life.

anyway, today, the two of you decided it was the perfect time to head to the beach... with some secret company.

was it a bit desperate to call the paparazzi, getting them to leak pictures of you and your fiance? possibly.

was it going to make that bitch burn? absolutely.

"are you finally ready, babe?" his gruff voice called out to you.

letting out a breathy chuckle, you hooked the last earring on before facing him. "yep," you said, popping the p, "how do i look baby?" you did a little twirl, letting your frilly, leopard tankini flay around you.

smirking, katsuki placed two hands on your hips, biting his lip at the sight. "you always look amazing, sweets. but this? this makes me want to cancel our plans and keep you inside." he said, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

"well, sucks for you, katsu, because whether you like it or no, we're going out there. you can channel all of your inner fuckboy when we're on the beach." you teased, placing two hands on his chest, pushing back.

katsuki was wearing an unbuttoned white shirt with a pair of khaki shorts. his muscles were on display, including the couple of scratch marks you had left on his chest from this morning.

you placed a kiss on his lips, slow and sensual, subtly biting his lower lip as a warning. "worry less about fucking me and more about how you're going to act all lovey for the 'hidden' cameras."

"yes ma'am," he chuckled. boy did he love the new you.

walking towards your purse, you grabbed the keys, throwing them at him before heading to the door. "grab the speaker; i'm making my way to the car."

the car ride was decent. old 2010s music blasted through the window, as your hair flowed behind you, occasionally stopping to kiss katsuki during the red lights.

you were truly living life.

the moment you reached the beach, the feeling of the dry, hot sand beneath your feet had you relaxing. finally feeling like you could breathe. katsuki was quick behind you, tugging off his unbuttoned shirt and throwing it into a pile of your clothes.

"come here; let's get some sunscreen on you before you look like a tomato," he joked. you scoffed, touching his chest before turning around.

his hands slid up your body, slowly massaging the skin tenderly. your eyes snapped shut, leaning back onto his body as he began. "feels so good, kat. maybe i should make you my personal masseur." you giggled.

"yeah right, like i already don't do all 'at." he groaned teasingly.

as he continued to rub the cream all over your body, you locked eyes with the photographer hidden in the bush. a smirk crawled onto your face as you quickly turned around and faced katsuki.

"have i ever told you how hot you are, baby?" you questioned, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him with the most innocent eyes.

"hmm, no i don't think so." he raised an eyebrow in false confusion. "why? is there something you need to tell me?" his eyes trailed over your body, large hands moving from your hips to your ass.

"nope!" you laughed, running away from the boy and into the water.

"you tease!" he yelled, moving fast to reach your now wet body.

the moment he caught up with you, you were pulled flush against his body as he brought you into a searing kiss. every kiss you shared with katsuki felt magical. he made you feel something. made you mean something.

he was all you could ever ask for, the man of your dreams. you spent your childhood following him around. watching him bully izuku, win the sports festival, and even watching him die. but, during those times, your love for him was simply platonic.

it wasn't until you both bumped into each other while he was on patrol that everything changed. a few months after his breakup with amira, he had contacted you, asking you out on a dinner date. at first, the two of you thought it wasn't anything serious until you shared your first kiss together under the night sky as snow painted the pavement.

breaking away from the kiss, you smiled softly at the man. "i love you." the three words were muttered so softly he could barely hear them.

"i love you too, pretty." he smiled, leaning down and pressing kisses to your neck. tongue poking out to trace the purple marks he left the night prior.

a moan left your lips at the sensation, smiling softly as your hands dragged into your hair. the slight flash of a camera caught your eyes as you nudged katsuki with your knee. he seemed to understand the cue as he effortlessly picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

the moment became intense with mouthwatering kisses and bites being marked all over your body. it clearly gave the photographer what he needed.

"you might be as mean as i am kats. you must really hate her to be doing all this for me."

"i hate everyone. you're just lucky."

the moment you got home, the internet was going wild.

the pictures were up and everyone was going crazy. fans were trending #DYNAMIGHTBACKMUSCLES, #DYNAY/NFUCKING??? and IN PUBLIC IS CRAZY all over twitter. they analysed the way he held you, how he kissed you and, most importantly, the marks on his back and your neck. their most favourite picture was the one where the reddish handprint on your ass was noticeable.

however, the best reaction was from amira. immediately after the pictures were posted, she turned to Instagram, posting a photo dump. the said dump included photos of food, half-empty wineglasses, beach pictures from last year and an old picture of her hand in katsuki's.

the public were immediately quick to notice the types of pictures and who she posted. some sympathised with her, while others called her out on her shitty behaviour. and maybe others included you because you didn't hesitate to post a tweet.

one that read: "he said thank you for the character development. we’ll send flowers."

yeah, you definitely broke the internet.

© 2025 wonubby— All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

@httpskyuko @dahliadaenerys @cherrii-11 @trishiepo0 @shewki @violetraccoon-4 @2elusional @jealousmartini @hhyukasworld @d4rlinxs @stinkinstuffle @peachesvault @onlyisaa @milky2-0 @rickydickydoodahgrimes73 @sirenitym @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @ita606 @k0z3me @d4nyjlk @chuflisworld @attackonnat @rapz-rites @qyuin @sweetlyvibe @teeesthings @alligator-person @disaster-rose @haechansbbg @119jan @minhyrin @isaidoop @mp3nai @amikkoyuzuki @imagine-all-the-imagines @anni3lop101 @kodzubaby @54fangirl @scagliedicuores-blog @wannabewolf @proburfaveblonde @lilithdarkfire @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @lilacs15 @getting-the-pizza @amajikisbabygirl @cielito—lindo @channnee @zuwizy @buckysdoll1940 @chia369 @ssstingryyyyyyy @daughterofaphrodite @skrtskrt1 @bkghq @js-favnanadoongi @smalls-19 @nemisimp @fiselle @rayannasworld @katsukilvr @plusamina10 @ranha1tanislvr @qardasngan @k0orom1 @eclipse-0303 @pearlydays

[re-freaks]

café worker!reader x vampire!manager part 1

you learn two things your next shift.

one: there’s a new café policy. free cookies for customers on nights with a full moon.

two: the werewolves have heard about it, and they arrive like it’s a festival. someone brings a tambourine. someone else brings their packmate’s emotionally unstable pet goose (lovingly inducted into the pack as “bertha”). you’re running on adrenaline, powdered sugar, and the kind of sexual tension that borders on medically concerning.

“we’ve got about forty cookies left,” you tell your manager, dragging the prep tray behind the counter like a stretcher on a battlefield. “should last until close, if no one cries, or shifts, or cries while shifting. which—uh—isn’t guaranteed.”

“noted,” he murmurs, barely glancing up from the cash register. “remind me to order more cinnamon.”

his sleeves are rolled again. you’re pretty sure you’ve developed some kind of pavlovian reaction to the sight of his forearms.

“totally,” you say, nodding like an idiot. “cinnamon. for the wolves. right, classic werewolf flavor.”

he looks at you like you’ve said something both incorrect and personally intriguing. you probably have.

by mid-afternoon, someone’s kid is sobbing over a dropped moon cookie, two vampires are arguing over who gets the last oatblood bar, and a mermaid is leaving glitter trails through the restroom like some kind of aquatic fairy godmother.

you’re holding on by a thread.

“we’re out of howlbread scones,” you relay to the kitchen, trying to rub frosting off your face with the hem of your apron. “and someone tried to steal the moonberry loaf again. i think it was the mothman. or maybe a very determined raccoon in a trench coat. it was hard to tell.”

your manager appears silently at your side. “you have icing on your collar.”

you blink. “i—oh. yeah. i was frosting, and then the bag exploded a little, and then a banshee sneezed and i think i panicked? anyway, yeah. sorry. i’ll go—”

he lifts a napkin and dabs at the spot gently. carefully. doesn’t touch your skin.

but you hiccup. spontaneously.

“thank you,” you squeak. it comes out weirdly high and breathy, like a victorian ghost thanking someone for a candle.

he studies you with polite interest, as if you’ve just done something scientifically notable. “you seem.. unusually energized today.”

“oh, yeah. totally, cookie fumes. sugar in the air. also i accidentally chewed a few espresso grounds instead of drinking coffee? i just. y’know. panic grabbed the wrong jar during the rush and then it felt weird to spit them out.”

“yes,” he muses. “that explains the dancing.”

you freeze. “what dancing?”

he gestures, barely. a flick of his fingers. “near the espresso machine earlier. a sort of.. interpretive shoulder movement. rhythmic. spirited, even.”

you stare in dawning horror.

“i was trying to get whipped cream off my sleeve. without using my hands. that also had whipped cream on them.”

“ah.”

a beat.

then he smiles. “still. spirited.”

you very nearly die.

he seems to consider something, eyes narrowing slightly. “you should be careful with the caffeine,” he says lightly. “it alters the taste.”

“the taste?”

his gaze flicks to your neck. “of your blood.”

you feel your soul leave your body and ascend to a plane of pure confusion. is that a vampire joke? is it concern? flirting? is he going to murder you? is he going to romantically murder you?

he doesn’t elaborate. just turns, calm, and disappears back behind the counter like he didn’t just drop a statement that sits somewhere between “you’re delicious” and “you’re delicious.”

you do not recover.

by closing, the café looks like it’s survived both a rave and a small exorcism. you’ve got flour in your hair. someone’s forgotten a baby basilisk in the lost-and-found bin. your feet are killing you and your brain feels like a blender on its fifth smoothie of the day.

but weirdly? you’re happy.

your manager stands near the front, tallying receipts by the register. moonlight slants across the floor. his posture is as perfect as ever, expression unreadable.

you grab a cookie from the tray—just one, slightly cracked. emotionally relatable.

you wander over and lean (badly) against the counter. your elbow slips. you recover like a pro.

“want one?” you ask, eyes fixed on a very interesting spot on the wall behind him.

he glances at the cookie. then at you. “no, thank you. i don’t eat sweets.”

“oh. right.” you nod, a little too enthusiastically. “dead teeth or whatever.”

he blinks. “pardon?”

“like. because you’re undead. not—not that your teeth are dead, your teeth are great! i mean, your fangs are. they're great. not dead. very vampire-appropriate.”

silence.

you consider if it’s medically possible to reverse your own blood flow and disappear.

he stares at you, amused. like he’s watching a raccoon attempt to pirouette.

“mm,” he says at last. “i see.”

you want to launch yourself into the sun.

he tilts his head slightly. “i assume you’ll be working next full moon as well.”

“unless i die.”

he nods, unfazed. “let’s avoid that.”

he gives you the faintest smile, like a ghost passing through a mirror. it barely registers. and still, you feel it in your chest.

“good night, then,” he says. “try not to dream about cookie theft.”

you laugh awkwardly. “right."

he watches as you scramble to gather your things, trip over your bag strap (for the fourth time this week), and nearly slam into the door before remembering how doorknobs work. a cookie falls out of your pocket on the way out. you do not go back for it.

the moon is smug and bright like it knows every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done. which is impossible, because after being hired, you’ve racked up quite the extensive list.

you don’t look back. you can’t.

you can feel him in the doorway, silhouette carved clean by silver light. watching.

professional.

..probably.

maybe.

(deeply, catastrophically, you hope his stare won’t be professional forever.)

[lightsoutmatthews]

I’ve really been into your writing lately and was wondering if maybe you could write something either Auston or Willy where the reader has bipolar disorder and is having a low episode and he just kinda takes care of her. My soul needs it

A lot of research went into this and I really hope I did it justice because it is a very sensitive topic.

Warning for mentions of depression and symptoms of a bipolar disorder

Here not matter what – Auston Matthews

It started like it always does, slowly, like fog rolling in over water.

At first it´s just tiredness. Then your body gets heavy, thoughts muddy, motivation slipping through your fingers and then everything goes quiet. Inside and out.

You woke up feeling hollow. The world felt too loud, too fast and too far. It was like you were underwater.

There was that familiar dread that settled in your chest. It was happening again.

You laid in bed long after the sun crept through the blinds, your face to the wall. You didn’t check your phone. You didn’t open the curtains. You barely breathed.

You were supposed to go out this morning, a breakfast date with Auston after his skate.

He had texted last night: I´ll swing by after practice. You want to get pancakes or the place with the good hash browns?

You never answered. Not because you didn’t want to, but because the idea of moving and pretending to be okay, it felt impossible.

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

The door opened sometime around noon.

You didn’t get up, but you heard the careful way it closed, the way his keys dropped gently into the bowl by the entryway.

He knew. He always knew.

“Hey, baby,” Auston called softly, voice low and even. “I´m home.”

You still didn’t move.

A beat of silence. Then soft footsteps on the hardwood. The subtle creak as he bent to take off his shoes. The thud of his duffel back being set aside.

And then. “Are you in bed?”

Another pause. Then he stepped into the room and saw you. Curled up in bed, wrapped in the throw blanked you never put away.

The TV was playing some nature show, volume low. You weren’t really watching anyways.

“Hi,” he said, voice quiet now. Gentler. He crouched next to you, searching your face. “Bad one today?” he softly asked.

You nodded once. You couldn’t say much else.

His eyes softened. He brushed a piece of hair out of your face, fingers lingering for a moment. “Okay,” he murmured. “We´ll take it easy.”

He didn’t press. He never did. He never asked why or how long it´s been creeping in. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he moved slowly, like you´re something fragile he knew how to handle.

He eased himself down to the floor besides the bed, shoulders close to your legs. you felt the warmth of his body even through the blanket.

“I brought you soup,” he said, like he was just taking about the weather. “Lemon chicken from that place you like. I put it in the fridge.”

You blinked slowly, then whispered, “Thank you.”

It came out hoarse and dry, but he smiled like it was the most precious thing he had heard all day.

The silence stretched, but it was not uncomfortable. Not with him. He let you exist in the quiet without trying to fill it.

Eventually, he shifted, glancing at his phone. “Do you want me to put on that playlist you made? The one with the soft sad songs?”

You nodded again, barely, but it was enough.

He tapped at his phone, and soon the room was filled with the familiar, melancholy melodies. Bon Iver. Daughter. Phoebe Bridgers. The kind of songs that sounded like rain on windows and the weight of the blanket on your chest.

He moved again, slower this time. “Mind if I sit with you?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want him to, but because you didn’t feel worthy of his comfort. Still, your hand lifted the blanket the tiniest bit.

That was all he needed.

He climbed onto the bed beside you and pulled you gently into his chest. His hoodie was warm, and he smelled like ice, cologne and the outdoors.

You pressed your cheek into his chest and closed your eyes, bathing in the warmth that radiated from his body.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured. “Just let me be here for you.”

And you did.

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

Time moved strangely when you were like this.

The depression wasn’t dramatic. It was not crying or screaming or throwing things. It was just a whole lot of nothing.

An ache behind your eyes. The inability to care about anything. Even eating, showering or getting dressed felt impossible.

You whispered eventually. “I feel like a burden.”

Auston didn’t react right away. When he did, he exhaled slowly and tilted your face towards his.

“You´re not,” he said firmly, trying to convince you with his words. “Not today. Not ever.”

You wanted to believe him. You really did, but the weight inside your chest argued louder.

“I don’t do anything. I can´t even get up.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple. “That´s not what makes you lovable.”

Tears stung in your eyes. It always surprised you how easy they came, even when everything else inside felt numb.

He didn’t shy away. He whipped your cheek gently with his sleeve.

“I know it feels like this is you, but it´s not. It´s just a part of what you deal with and you´re not alone in it.”

You sniffed quietly. “I hate being like this around you.”

“Being like what?” he asked, not accusing, genuinely curious.

“This. Sad. Dull. Empty.”

“You are not dull,” he muttered. “You´re one of the most vivid people I know, even when you´re low. Even when you´re quiet. You´re still you.”

And that – more than anything – made the tears spill over.

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

Later, he brought you the tea you always drank when you were low. Chamomile with honey.

He didn’t hand it to you right away. Just set it on the nightstand, knowing you would reach for it when you were ready.

He heated up the soup too, even though you said you were not hungry. He put it in a bowl, brought it in with crackers and set it on the table next to the tea with a gentle, “In case you change your mind.”

At one point, he disappeared for a moment. When he returned, he had your favorite hoodie in his hands. The one that he wore during that trip to Banff, the one that smelled like him and like comfort.

You slipped it on without speaking.

He sat beside you again, scrolling silently through his phone.

Eventually, he showed you a video of a baby goat wearing pajamas. You let out the smallest, cracked laugh and that was when he glanced over at you and smiled like he had just seen sunlight peek through heavy clouds.

“There she ism” he said softly.

You whipped your eyes. “I still feel really bad.”

“I know,” he whispered. “But you laughed and that´s something.”

-----------

By the time the sun started to set, the world felt a little less far away. Not okay. Not normal. But a little softer. Like maybe you were not trapped in this haze forever.

Auston had stretched out on the couch now, one arm tucked behind his head, the other softly resting on your hip.

You were lying beside him, head on his chest, blanket still around you both.

The playlist had faded into silence, but neither of you moved to restart it.

“Can I say something?” you whispered, your voice still barely there.”

“Always.”

“I know I´m going to feel better and I know it will pass but when I´m in it…it´s like I forget that. Like I can´t see anything but the dark.”

He nodded slowly. “That´s okay. You don’t have to see the light. I can hold it for you.”

You went quiet, heart aching from how much you loved him and how little you felt like you deserved that love in moments like this.

“I´m not going anywhere,” he said, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Not when it´s hard, especially not then.”

You closed your eyes.

That was the first time you actually believed it.

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

The next morning arrived quietly. There was no dramatic change, no switch flipped. Just a faint sense that the fog had loosened its grip.

You blinked awake to pale light filtering through the curtains.

Auston was still beside you, one arm around your waist, the blanket bunched between you. At some point in the night, you had drifted off, tangled up together.

Your back was warm against his chest, his steady breathing a kind of lullaby.

You didn’t move at first. You were still tired, not just physically, deep-tired, in the way that depression always brought but you were aware of your body now, in a way you weren’t yesterday.

The world wasn’t so far away anymore.

You shifted slightly. Auston stirred behind you.

“Mornin´,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You expected him to ask how you were felling. He didn’t. He just tightened his hold a little and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

You were grateful for that.

After a few minutes, he spoke again. “Do you want to stay here a bit longer, or try getting up?”

You thought for a second. “Up.”

He nodded behind you. “Okay.”

It took time getting out of bed, unpeeling yourself from sleep and blankets and the heaviness.

Auston waited patiently, never rushing you.

When you finally stood, a little wobbly, he was right there – steady and solid.

“Shower first?” he asked gently. You nodded.

“I´ll bring you a hoodie and some clean clothes to the door.”

You glanced at him, grateful, and something flickered in your chest. Not joy, not yet, but something close to the memory of it.

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

You took your tome in the shower.

The hot water didn’t fix you, but it made your muscles loosen, made your breath come a little easier.

You cried again, not the same way as yesterday though. Those tears came quietly, but not from despair. Maybe from release.

When you stepped out, you found one of Auston´s hoodies and a pair of your sweats folded on the counter.

One of his beanies, too.

You smiled, just barely, and slipped it on. It smelled like him.

You padded into the kitchen to find Auston barefoot, hair messy, pouring coffee into two mugs.

He had already warmed up the soup from the day before. It was a small pot on the stive, steaming gently.

You leaned against the counter, not saying anything yet. He handed you a mug without a word- the silence was companionable. Safe.

“Still not very hungry,” you mumbled eventually.

“That´s okay,” he replied. “You don’t have to finish it. Just a few bites. Something warm in your stomach might help.”

You nodded.

He plated it for you, soup, a piece of buttered toast, some fruit he had cut up.

Then he sat across from you at the kitchen table, still in his sleep shirt, one hand resting casually on your knee under the table.

The food wasn’t amazing. You appetite wasn’t really back, but the care he put into it made it easier to try.

You ate slowly and that was enough.

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

Later, you found yourselves on the balcony, wrapped up in the hoodie and a blanket from the couch.

The sky was overcast, but not stormy.

Auston leaned on the railing beside you, coffee cup in hand. “I think I´m coming out of it,” you said finally, voice still small. “Not all the way, but a little.”

He glanced over and nodded once. “Yeah. I felt that this morning.”

You looked away. “I hate that it happens and that you have to see me like that.”

“I don’t,” he said without hesitation.

You blinked at him.

“I don’t hate seeing your like that,” he repeated. “I hate that it hurts you and I hate that it´s hard for you, but being with your during it? That´s not a burden. That´s what love is.”

You sat with that for a while. Let it settle in your bones.

“I feel like I disappear during the lows,” you whispered. “Like I´m not me.”

“You´re always you,” he said, nudging your knee with his. “You´re still here. You´re still the same person who knows every lyric to Taylor Swift´s songs and has strong opinions about breakfast potatoes. You´re still the person who beats me at Mario Kart even when I´m trying. You just go quiet sometimes.”

You manage a small laugh again. “You never let me win.”

“Exactly, so don’t argue with me.”

You smiled, finally. Tired, but real.

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

The rest of the day was quiet, but it was a different quiet from yesterday.

You moved a little more. Talked a little more. You let Auston convince you to take a short walk to the corner store with Felix. “Just for air,” he said. “And maybe a chocolate bar.”

He kept your hand in his the whole time.

You didn’t talk much on the walk, but you noticed things again.

The color of the leaves, a dog barking down the street, a little girl on a scooter zooming past.

They didn’t overwhelm you anymore.

You returned to the condo with a small smile and tired legs.

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

That evening, you sat on the couch together and watched the office. A comfort show for both of you.

You curled into him again; head tucked under his chin. He played with your hair absentmindedly, the way he did when you were near.

“I know it´s probably not gone for good,” you said quietly. “I mean…this will happen again.”

He nodded, but he didn’t flinch. “Yeah,” he said. “It probably will.”

There was something comforting about the honesty of that. The lack of sugarcoating.

“But when it does,” he continued. “You will still have me, and we will do exactly what we just did. One hour at the time.”

You swallowed. “You´re really not scared of it?”

“No,” he replied.

You leaned into him harder, heart aching in that good, raw way. The way that meant you were still feeling. Still there.

[jkvjimin]

JIKOOK ㅡ are you sure?!

@kpopcreators event 07: duos

[gaylactic-fire]

Let it be known I first got turned down from childcare college because I (stupidly) disclosed my disability during the interview, and it immediately turned into ableist assumptions, mostly stemming from "well what if you have to lift a child?"

Today not only do I LOVE working in the field, but I've realised children are light as fuck, and I too, cannot resist the allure of uppies

[soullessjack]

“kids and toddlers can be autistic too” yea no shit sherlock! I was both of those at one point in time and that’s why I even have this blog to begin with. the problem is you are constantly making a canon 20-something year old into that toddler and in the vast majority of this content his autism isn’t even noticeable in the backdrop of normal toddler behaviors and traits.

not even getting into how limited everything is for autistic/disabled adults in general, including representation in media that doesn’t make us into bad jokes or tall children. cough cough. read tags also.

[seventh-district]

.

[giddlygoat]

if u dont mind me asking, what do u use to draw? (program/device) cuz your art is super clean and i also love your handwriting !!

i use procreate on an ipad pro! it’s my favorite art program by FAR. simple UI that still provides rich tools. it allows me to do everything i could ever want currently. also, thank you SO much!!!! i take pride in my handwriting. i think it looks like that because i grew up loving comic books with hand lettering lawl

[thatfaerieprincess]

.

[coridallasmultipass]

GUYS I'M CRYING THEY'RE SO FREAKING CUTE!! AAAA ALL I NEEDED WAS A COUPLE PIPE CLEANERS FROM THE HARDWARE STORE AND NOW I HAVE MORE PLUSHIES HHHH...

[meowrimo]

eeee happy wednesday & good day my friendz ! ! wishing you all the bestest day and i hope you find something that makes you smile :3 !

love this gif sm bc he dances to the beat of almost every song i’ve put on in the last little while lmfaooo

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Oh gosh, is your fur baby okay? It's always so terrible when they're sick... I'll keep you both in my thoughts ❤️

Depends on your definition of okay, but I'm considerably less stressed now than I was earlier so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and thanks for thinking of my boy 🥺

[skrunksthatwunk]

so i didn't finish the paper on time but on the plus side i Almost know how to play mahjong now

[cuteniaarts]

Greyscale Midori sketch because I’m low-key artblocked

[floral-hex]

One of my brothers is moving away to college today + I have to skip therapy, so it’s a lot of… a lot. a lot.

[bunnymcfoo]

POV: it’s April 15, 2022 and you’re watching Thomas Bordeleau’s 2nd game in San Jose