#hope u like

[hyuckiestarz]

the dreamies sending you a selfie

ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ❁ཻུ۪۪⸙͎ ✿✼:*･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ❁ཻུ۪۪⸙͎ :.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ

[nuppu-nuppu]

Misa <3333

[st-froy]

He doesn’t have a lot going on right now

[wanologic]

Danny wakes up. It feels different now that he’s older. Now that he’s both more and less than he was. He starts mornings out floaty, his edges indistinct, bleeding into his surroundings. He’s hyper-aware of the tentative strings connecting him to life, the blood pumping sluggishly through his veins, the breath expanding the lungs within his chest. 

He yawns. A stretch.

His brain feels like an old computer booting up, each process coming online in a slow, methodical order. Neurons firing, electric pulses traveling up and down the webbed network of sinew tangled through his skeleton. He feels the pressure of atmosphere on his skin, the floor under his feet.

It’s weird. Not uncomfortable, just strange. It’s been years, but it’s never been easy to come to terms with the new awareness of his physicality, the control he could exert over its expression and shape. What once was instinctual, settled, now flows through his fingers like water, rising and falling with the rhythm of his chest. He would say that he’s just tired, that he’s never been a morning person, but the simmer of dawn and the infinite thrumming energy beneath his skin beg to differ.

He makes his way to the bathroom. He might have walked, but probably not, he can’t be sure. It doesn’t matter. There are only friends here. He’s safe. Home.

The routine of the morning is grounding. Always the same. Jazz says it should help. That it can all become instinctual again, through enough repetition. Danny isn’t so sure.

He takes his time putting together his outfit, picking accessories and being mindful of the way it all fits against him. His body might be a projection, something just to the left of real, but clothes are normal, socks, rings, a watch. He can feel normal like this. 

Another stretch. 

He wants to scream.

He makes his way down to the shared living space. He’s grateful that he’s not crammed into a tiny apartment with strangers, that he’s allowed both the time and space to be what he is. Sam’s parents may not be the most accommodating, but this is worth every glare and snide, underhanded comment he’s had to put up with for the better part of the past decade.

He knows what comes next, but his stomach rolls in his gut. He should have something solid, go through the remaining motions of self-care, even if it’s a bowl of cereal and a piece of fruit. 

He grimaces and grabs a less-than-pleasant nutritional shake from the fridge. They’re supposed to be back up, an addition-to rather than in-replacement-of, but it’s early and he can’t bring himself to care. He finds himself on the roof, with the chilled bite of the morning and the chalky pseudo-chocolate flavor of his breakfast on his tongue.

He longs to shed this husk, to leave the weight of his flesh behind and see what the sunrise looks like from ten thousand feet. But it’s a Tuesday and he has an 8am. He wants equally to be the college student he is, to sit with his peers and bring numbers to their algorithmic conclusions—to describe the world around him in a way that makes sense, in a way that’s objectively true. One day he might even be able to describe what happened to him in a neat little equation. 

He breathes in and out, feeling heavy in his body. This is nice too, he supposes. He shuts his eyes and feels the brunt of the morning sun peek over the neighboring apartment complex. When he hears his friends shuffling about in their own morning fugue states, he sinks back inside. 

Tucker just about jumps out of his skin when he turns around, eyes half closed, to see Danny dressed and ready, silent, and much too close behind him.

Laughter peels through the house as Danny is chased through the halls and somehow he feels human.

[copypastus]

A gift for @witch-and-her-witcher loosely based on her lovely tamsand fanfic 'Lay Me on the Cold Dark Earth'.

With a little bonus Eris, not loving what they got up to on his cape.

[j4r-of-flies]

cat breaking bad pfps in case u want

[nine-is-not-a-ten]

soc

[ival-eon]

Strawberry Cuties are here!!!! Sticker set now on KoFi!

i debuted these cuties at a strawberry festival over the weekend and they were quite the hit ! theyre ready to see the world and go home with u :)

available on kofi here :)

[paintpanic]

⚡

[kayleys]

@wvterways ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[real-odark]

these FREAKS!!!

[superk1ss]

Selfship stuff! Most of it is @kimslovebin tho lol

[akabendyfan]

ANYWAYS @alsojnpie i made a thin g😭

[mfingenius]

“Draco!” There was a hand on his shoulder, and he blinked into startingly light eyes. “We’re over here, come on.” 

Theo was wearing navy blue robes, startlingly dark against his pale skin, moles mottled up his neck and across his cheek, over his nose, his chin, one on his eyebrow; almost like stars, Draco thought dazedly. Maybe he was the one who should’ve been named after a constellation, not Draco. 

“Hey.” Daphne was wearing formal emerald robes; they must’ve been tailored, too – Draco would’ve been willing to bet his arse every single outfit in the party was – because they fit her just right, except for the length; he noticed high heeled shoes had been discarded beside her in the grass. “We were wondering if you’d make it.” 

We? He blinked again and clung to reality with his nails digging into his palms, looking around slowly; it was Daphne, Theo, Blaise – in stunning plum robes that must’ve cost even more than Draco’s – and, surprisingly, Pansy Parkinson. 

“Why aren’t you at school?” he asked, surprised. 

Theo, Daphne, and Blaise looked at each other, and Parkinson sneered. 

“It’s July,” she said. “Why would we still be at school?” 

Blaise glared at her. “Shut up, Parkinson. Draco, it’s been almost eight weeks since you left school.” 

Eight weeks? It hadn’t felt like eight weeks; he thought of the letters from his friends that Apus – the family owl – had been leaving on his drawer chest; they hadn’t stopped coming even though they’d gone unopened and unanswered.  

[bobardo]

smth a little soft bc I think we need it nowadays.

boxer!carmy, who has nightmares and fucking hates admitting that to his girl.

boxer!carmy, who has trouble waking up from his nightmares. he's losing a fight in this one, which doesn't happen often.. but when he does, it feels like a whole new low. the crowd, who's supposed to be cheering for *him* is shouting this *dumbass'* name, and he's seeing red, he's feeling like he's back in high school, and-

his girl wakes up from her slumber, noting the way that her bear just.. tensed around her all the sudden. and how he was making that face, the one he made when he was about to snap, and..

ill leave this one up to you, ev <3

🍓non

tw!! carmy leads a pretty tragic life.

oh lawd bestie you’ve got me thinking HARD.

i feel like reader would definitely put her WHOLE LIFE in jeopardy. like, leg swung over his waist, straddling her big, upset bear with hands on his shoulders gently shaking, urging “c’mon, carm, wake up, s’just a dream bear. promise.” and when his eyes snap open he’s ready to sit up right but there’s this weight on top of him and he can’t fucking move.

he was already in fight or flight mode, but he’s in fight mode now. growling and thrashing and about two seconds from shoving said weight off of him so he can pummel it into the ground when “carmen.”

and suddenly he’s not being shoved against the cold metal lockers of his middle school, not having his head bashed through a window in his high school, not being locked in the basement, forgotten, by his family.

he’s here. he’s home, with his girl, his cub, who’s sliding her palms up and down his chest, across his collarbones, telling him “it’s ok, you’re ok bear, you’re safe.”

and she’s soft about it, even if her heart is racing, even if she knows this could go south very fast. never raises her voice, never pushes and pulls at him to get him awake. she can be rough, rougher than him when she wants to, but never when he’s like this. never when he’s so… small.

when he fully comes to he’s wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her chest with big, stuttered breaths that make her heart ache. but she stays strong, sturdy and constant, for him. moves her paws from his chest to his back and scratches. up and down, up and down, to the nape of his neck and the small of his back, providing him an anchor, a tether to this moment.

if he falls back asleep, it’s cradled like a baby in his cub’s arms, and she wouldn’t have it any other way 🥲

[frances73]

Drawing for me please 🥺🥺

YAAA