#some in a notebook

[beannary]

Working on tlp while at work hehehehe >:3c

[rockspider556]

Authors who post like this are so deliciously unhinged. At this point it’s not even a fic- it’s a literary hostage situation, and i am ✨sat✨ ☕️

[periwinkla]

when you gotta take care of an overworking prince... (but you're rewarded in the form of royal cuddles, so it's ok)

[obsob]

to be loved is to be held!!! print

[kori-senpai]

Netflix took down Voltron and managed to revive the klance nation with it, good job

[buddieroommates]

buddie when the 118 gather around to watch the show bobby worked on and see the blond and brunet firefighter start making out 20 minutes into the first episode while an ambulance explodes behind them

[apple-onigiri]

high art concept for y'all:

siffrin and loop in these fckin outfits

[chio-chan2artbox]

Step Forward - Part 3 They are going on a date!!! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Check out my tags for fun facts XD

Kofi

[mrbrightxside]

Gen Z Coachella Fit as per request by the awesome @primroseduck 🔥🔥🔥 Enjoy your meal Jerry fans

I have more Gen Z sketches I might do an art dump this week ✅

[perryelornitorrinco]

If I don't contribute to the update I'll implode, I cannot just not draw the blorbo duo I CAN'T. So here, have some poorly made Legend and Rulie having fun in this tyring times.

Legend definitely lost his anatomy privileges, I just skipped the part of making him look normal XKDAJSHKAHDKAH, they're floating in the void I guess 💀. But hey, they can't just rot in my notebook so here they are :·3

[flwrkid14]

Love, Scribbled in the Margins

Tim keeps journals—pages filled with scattered thoughts, half-formed ideas, reminders hastily scribbled in the margins before they slip from his mind. His penmanship is erratic, sometimes neat, sometimes a barely legible scrawl. There’s no structure, no careful curation—just the unfiltered chaos of his thoughts, poured onto the pages with reckless honesty.

Danny finds them everywhere.

There’s one on Tim’s desk, filled with quick notes and unfinished sketches. Another by the bed, pages warped from where Tim has knocked over his coffee more than once. One tucked into his jacket, carried with him wherever he goes. And when Danny opens them, he finds something unexpected.

Not plans for patrols. Not mission reports or Gotham’s latest conspiracies.

No, these journals are something else. Something just for Danny.

There are messy, hurried notes—things Tim meant to tell him but hadn’t yet, thoughts that slipped his mind in the rush of the day. Scattered reminders: Tell Danny about the ghost dog that stole my sandwich. Ask Danny if ectoplasm works the same way as Lazarus water. Danny likes lemon biscuits. Find a good recipe?

There are doodles, too. Little sketches of Danny in the margins, some more detailed than others. A rough, unfinished one of him asleep on the couch, another of his hands, a quick, cartoonish scribble of Danny sticking his tongue out with the words annoying boyfriend scrawled underneath.

It’s messy. It’s chaotic. And it’s so Tim.

Danny had always imagined love as something poetic, something grand and beautiful, the kind of thing written in sweeping verses that promised forever. The kind of love you read about in stories, in letters written with elegant penmanship, every word crafted with care.

Tim’s love isn’t like that. It isn’t neatly composed or carefully written.

It’s raw. It’s real. It’s a thousand little moments captured in ink-stained fingers and smudged notes. It’s love scribbled into the corners of his life, unpolished and unfiltered.

And Danny? Danny wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because love, he realizes, isn’t always the kind you find in poetry. Sometimes, it’s a journal filled with half-finished thoughts and silly drawings. Sometimes, it’s a name written absentmindedly in the corner of a page, over and over again. Sometimes, it’s as simple as a note that says, Thinking of you.

Love doesn’t have to be perfect to be real. It doesn’t have to be grand to mean everything.

And like honey pulled straight from the comb, love is sweetest when it’s raw.

[studioeisa]

jihoon has always been good with his words. he would have to be, considering his line of work. that was why he didn't really struggle telling you he likes you and wants to get to know you better. this, after all, is the man who once said "if i was flirting, i promise you would know."

jihoon, however, fails to put in to consideration what it's like to start dating when there are twelve other boys constantly around. he's always been the steadfast type, but now he finds himself bearing the brunt of their teasing. and that's only the tip of the iceberg.

jihoon, who learns pretty early on, that songwriting ≠ being good at communicating. he can be blunt, bordering inconsiderate, and yet he still can't express himself the way he wants to. it should be simple, telling you these things. why can't he?

jihoon thinks it's over for him until you casually teach him something. "hey," you say, and you squeeze his hand three times. he stares at you blankly until you laughingly telling him, "it means 'i love you'." if it's meant to be something cheesy, meant to be a joke of some sorts— well, he takes it very differently.

jihoon starts squeezing your hand thrice at every chance that he can get. when you sit next to him at dinner with the members. i love you. when you stop by his studio with takeout. i love you. when he's in the wings, waiting to go on stage. i love you.

jihoon, whose 'vocabulary' starts to expand. when he taps thrice at the small of your back, over your shirt? it means he likes your outfit. when he raps his knuckles against your knee underneath the table? it means he wants to go home, or that he wants to take you home.

jihoon knows this isn't enough. he knows. he still says the words, still doles them out when he can manage, but when you're out somewhere where he can't, when there's other people? when you've just fought and there's still a lump in both your throats? when you're both too sleepy to say the words?

jihoon squeezes your hand three times.

[sentientstump]

nice music

[maomango-doodle]

uhh bunch of doodles

(diary entry under the cut)

Dear diary,

Yesterday, Jeeves let me cradle his face in these hands of mine. This might not seem like much but allow me to paint the full picture here. Quite frankly, I've had a few opportunities to hold this brilliant lemon before, whenever the poor thing was burning up with fever and whatnot. But, until now, I had never quite noticed how... soft Jeeves is. In that moment, with both hands on his map drowsy with sleep, I felt like I was being trusted with the most precious loaf of bread in all of England. No wonder; he's Jeeves after all. I mean to say, even in the wildest thunderstorm, you wouldn't catch less than fresh-faced and rosy-cheeked! It's a mystery how he does it, really.

But what I'm getting at is that I am only telling you this now because, for one simple reason, I couldn't tell you right away, or else I would have—Jeeves knows how no force is too great to try and stop me from jotting down a few notes on paper for later use in my books. No, you see, I couldn't because we were both getting ready for our respective beauty sleep, which meant only one thing: if I wanted to be the little spoon this time, I had to avoid any hesitation and nosedive in the sheets before Jeeves did, and lounge invitingly—as much as the willowy Wooster frame could—as to leave no room for arguments. One can enjoy doing the fulfilling act of embracing but one can also desire one's corpus to be enveloped by warmth itself, what. I didn't get to say as much right then though because, to my surprise, Jeeves had already followed me without a word and wrapped his arms round me. Directly, I felt like the happiest pillow on earth, as any pillow would be while being so firmly held and loved. But, again, I did not voice the thought; I simply let myself melt into the arms of Jeeves.

So, you see, there could possibly have been no time to grab a pen and fill you, dear diary, in on the whole binge.

[kirby-the-gorb]

yeah! woo! fuck it up kirby! it's [kirb2k]!!!

[where-dreamers-go]

Romance/Flirty/Fluffy/Cute Dialogue Writing Prompts:

(A/N: Some fluff prompts to use, reblog, and have fun with.)

“You know I love you.”

“Do you need anything? Or I can just keep playing with your hair, if that’s okay?”

“I only wanted to matter to someone.” “You matter to me.”

“You’re like a dream.” “Oh. Um. Thank you?”

“Some people call it ‘love’.”

“You, me, your favorite hoodie of mine, and the couch. It’s a date?”

“We can’t leave the bed now. The pillows have accepted us.”

“Laundry day doesn’t mean walking around in your underwear, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”

“Hey, cutie! I’m home.”

“When I had called you ‘a snack’, I didn’t know you actually smelled like one.”

“My ears miss your heartbeat.”

“Are you reading that romance/spicy book or did you have that dream again?”

“You know, the usual. We eat snacks/dessert, we sit on the couch, ignore the TV, make-out. The usual.”

“How do we always end up cuddling.”