#and that's everything for today

[clairenatural]

there's a cherry blossom tree in DC that keeps blooming every year even though it shouldn't and the park service keeps thinking it's dead and then it keeps blooming! well they're removing a lot of trees to rehabilitate the area and they've said it's finally time for stumpy to go and they're going to mulch it and use the mulch to enrich all the other trees so it can help everything else keep going. and they're also going to plant spliced little pieces of it all over so that stumpy can live forever and this is genuinely sending me into a spiral

[goldammerchen]

added a clarification in the summary of anything for you, bc something that's obvious to me as the writer isn't obviously for readers (it is still a dark fic but isn't the most explicit/hardcore i think, though... well, that's for next chapter); i have a whole frying pangle devils story wip now, i should write the synopsis/wtv but ughhhhhh i don't wanna do anything (1. surface evil spirit buying two hellfolk, "good" master in the context of what's normal for cruel sadomasochist creatures raised cruelty to be like that, so things can get quite questionable; 2. the first pregnancy of one of the hellborn, gory and with insane biology, hellborn having 50/50 lottery possibility of childbearing independent of the most used parts after shapeshifting and even of the positions, and only learning this until it happens or organs are checked, meanwhile that type of surface devil can only be male; 3. return of the firstborn decades later, and is a massive creep).

[mikonez]

[iamanartichoke]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

[mildcrow]

sketchy veggie laois before bed 🥕

[ourfandomcrazyuniverse]

Some good political news out there, in the UK, but for anyone who needs the slightest hint of positivity today

Source: BBC

[esr10]

DEVASTATING! Woman does task she's been putting off for weeks, finds out it's pretty easy

[paintedcrows]

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates! All this triangle wants for Christmas is a Transuniversal Poly-Dimensional Metavortex. Will you give it to him?

Inspired by @candycatfalls Santa poll ;)

[enii]

Today's gentle reminder💕

[charbies]

linktober day 14 - fairy

[scyllas-revenge]

I made a magnolia tea latte so good I'm having a religious experience at my desk

this is a PSA to go steal some magnolia flowers from your neighbor's yard TODAY

[boobearymuch]

❀ You're Overstimulated ❀

Zayne would instantly recognize you're overstimulated and leap into action without thinking twice about it. He'd notice you've gone uncharacteristically quiet for the past few minutes, nodding or giving clipped responses. Or maybe you're snappier than usual, but he doesn't take it to heart, he never does.

He'd suddenly excuse you both from whatever social situation you're in without warning, and you'd give him a surprised look. Or if he can't control the circumstances, he'd suddenly suggest you guys move to a different room if he knows the lights are too bright/noise levels are too loud. You'd pout out of embarrassment for a bit, "Was it that obvious?"

But he only chuckles and leans in to whisper, "To me, yes." And you frown again, but then he thumbs your chin softly, "...I can't help it. My eyes are always on you."

Bonus: If your clothes are irritating you, he'll wait until you're in the car to say, "Take it off."

"...What?"

His cool eyes slide over to you as he shifts the ignition, "Your clothes. They're bothering you, are they not?" The authority in his voice is unmistakable, and it raises the hair on your arms, "So, take them off."

[lavendorii]

[DIMENSION NOT FOUND.]

[bloobydabloob]

I don’t know if this is worth a post on here. We post anyways maybe (?)

[lazylittledragon]

my absolute favourite genre of transphobic propaganda is when the caption is like “look at this poor, confused little girl who was forced to mutilate herself :(” and the picture is just the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life with a full beard and a body that would make thor weak at the knees

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.