#lamy writes

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Romance Your Demons

TW: Blood, bruises, asphyxiation attempt, gun mention, violence

Happy late birthday, 🎂 @thelazywitchphotographer

"Darling," Villain growled, baring their teeth in a predatorial fashion.

"Dear," Hero replied languidly, although their eyes were glued to the criminal's balled-up fists, to their arched body, ready to pounce.

They were far too reminiscent of an old, married couple, something everyone and their mother never ceased to point out, much to both the crime-fighter and the evil-doer's chagrin.

The villain rammed into them, the hero's body slamming into the wall with an audible thud, the force just shy away from breaking something.

"Well, this is intimate," the hero scoffed, swinging their leg and slamming it harshly into their adversary's ribs, letting the criminal fall to the ground, spitting blood and a flurry of filthy curses out of their mouth.

The dagger-sharp smirk on the hero's smug face was arguably a more painful blow than that merciless kick. Villain had always been told that their pride would be the end of them.

Well, now it would be the end of Hero too.

Wiping the blood from their mouth, their fingers clawed around Hero's neck, digging into their skin, leaving scratches and bruises in their wake, ripping out shallow breaths from the hero's lungs as their pale face slowly turned a sickly shade of blue.

"You're not laughing now, are you, sucker?" they seethed, loosening their death grip around their enemy's throat by a mere fraction.

Gasping and taking greedy breaths of air, the hero still had the audacity to flash a dirt-eating grin. "No, I s'ppose not."

It made the villain wish to squash the life right out of the crime-stopper's body, to beat them to a bloody pulp on the sidewalk, to empty a gun (that they unfortunately lacked right now) into the jerk's head.

But it also made them want to pull them up against their chest and kiss the hero's cheekbones and bring that oh so pretty blush to their face and neck, one that they'd only seen because Hero was exerting themselves and not because they were flustered.

The hero had dark circles under their eyes and dry skin. They'd lost weight, and not in any way that was healthy, dropping muscle from what was once a gorgeously lean figure. They were young, but their eyes were a hundred years older.

But they were struggling in the criminal's vice-like grip, still fighting for what most would deem a lost cause, still grinning in that stupidly carefree way they did when they were just starting out, barely in high school and nowhere near as broken. And it was beautiful.

The villain wanted to curse themselves, so they did.

"What? Are we just gonna keep cuddling here together for all eternity?" Hero supplied in a mostly sarcastic tone, but the strange edge it had could almost be read as flirtatious.

Villain released them from the bruising grip on their neck, their nemesis took in great breaths of air, their body shuddering as they almost fell to the ground, only for the evil-doer to catch them with a steadying arm wrapped around their waist.

They couldn't even tell when the hero's face went scarlet.

"So, where's the part where you commit homicide?" they asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll save that for later, dove. Right now, you're all I can think about," they admitted, almost guiltily.

Surprisingly, they weren't met with another infuriatingly attractive, lopsided smirk. The look on the crime-fighter's face was nothing, if not utterly dazed.

"M-me? But I'm a mess. Like that one article so eloquently put it, I'm a cocktail of problems in a spandex suit with a few witty catchphrases," they replied, laughing humourlessly.

Villain's grip around their waist tightened subtly. "You're just tired. Sure, you could find great use for a physiotherapist, a haircut, a whole, new diatery plan, some basic skin care an-"

"Yeah, a whole makeover. No need to rub it in, though," they attested, only mildly irritated.

The villain rolled their eyes. "My point is, even through all this, you still manage to shine like a diamond in the rough."

"Oh so personality over looks? Got it," they chuckled slyly.

The criminal paused in their walk and pulled their enemy forward by the collar, "Do I have to spell it out for you? You're so goddamn hot even when you're not supposed to be, so awfully dishevelled, and yet here I am," they whispered, their lips almost brushing the hero's ear.

A tense moment of awkward silence passed as the crime-fighter pulled away from them, their eyes wide and their lips parted, trying uselessly for a few false starts. "So, where to now?" they said, straightening their posture gracefully and attempting to regain their composure, like the flustered mess of emotions from just a moment ago had never been.

"My place. We'll fix you up a little, and then we can go get something to eat," the villain replied, failing to keep the smile out of their voice.

"What happened to me being all glowing?" the hero teased.

"You're very lucky you're pretty," Villain snarled through gritted teeth, their hand resting on the back of Hero's neck.

They quickly tensed up, until the villain started to rub their neck, as though apologising for the damage they'd previously caused. The dark scowl was quickly wiped off their face as they watched the tightness dissipate from the hero's form. How had they not taken that adorable, little idiot out before?

"You're still good-looking, Hero. But you owe it to yourself to at least take care of yourself. Live a little." There was no mocking or cruelty, no sharp edges to their smile and nothing but gentleness in the villain's golden, honey brown eyes, making the hero's own hazel ones go as wide as saucers.

No one's ever talked to Hero like that, cared about them this way, or looked at them like they were a treasure. So, they nodded, hooked their hand into the villain's, placed a quick kiss on their forehead and allowed themselves to be lead forward.

The opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Strong emotions often find themselves mixing together, melting into one another. The fine line between love and hatred defines itself by desire, a treacherous walk to make, but all the more worth it. And the heart can so strangely burn a different flame, beat for a whole new cause, adore what it used to despise, and admit what it so vigorously used to deny.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[hinkepink]

"What ails you, my child?"

[whatsinmypen]

The travel crew! In a Franklin Christopher 7-pen roll, from left to right:

TWSBI Diamond 580 AL R (Prussian Blue, M)

TWSBI Diamond 580 AL R (Navy Blue, M)

Lamy Vista (B)

Lamy Safari Petrol (M)

Pelikan M805 Anthracite (F)

Platinum Century #3776 (M)

Sailor PGS Dianthus (M)

Notebook is a Leuchtturm dot grid. Not pictured: Lamy Pico and Kaweco Sport.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Here you go! @roblingoblin285

Well. . .something in my brain just will not stop giving me whump ideas. At this point, it's safe to say it's written in my brain chemistry. Whatever. . .

Relentless

TW: Blood, murder, choking, violence, knives, a graphic description of stabbing, fear of vulnerability

Supervillain had Sidekick pinned to the floor in an instant. They pressed their knee harshly into the teenager's windpipe, smirking. Sidekick only continued to struggle further, useless and futile, like a flailing animal in a hunter's snare, only hurting itself further.

The master criminal's grin sharpened, eerily dagger-like as their eyes took in the sight of sidekick's face turning a sickly shade of blue.

"Such a beautiful, little thing. Shame you'll have to go to waste. Oh well, at least I had enough fun with you," the villain cackled, the sound chilling enough to send a shiver up their victim's spine.

It would have been the end of Sidekick, if Team Leader hadn't wrenched Supervillain off them, leaving them wheezing and gasping for air.

They'd thrown them down harshly, murder burning in their eyes. There were no insults, no threats and no fighting to incapacitate. Team Leader was going for the kill, with all the drunken frenzy of a rabid animal fuelling their every strike. With one hand, their fingers kept a vice-like grip around the villain's throat, squeezing their throat mercilessly, pressing down onto their voicebox like the crushing weight of steel. They stabbed their blade straight into the supervillain's chest, tearing through skin, flesh and muscle, pulling the knife out in an instant, blood and the remnants of vessels splattered everywhere. And theu repeated it again and again and again, till they were sure they'd ripped Supervillain's heart to shreds with the action, a gaping hole left in their chest, spurting out a river of crimson down their lifeless body.

But not before the criminal had managed to push their own blade between two of the leader's ribs, drawing a sharp hiss out of their mouth. Supervillain smiled wickedly at them. "Here's my parting gift," they whispered cruelly into their ear. Team Leader spat in their face right before finishing them.

"They're dead. Arrest the others. We're going to base," they ordered, composed as always, expression unreadable on their stone-hard face. No one would notice the slight tension in their sharp jaw or the hitching of their breath as they covered their wound with their jacket.

There was worse they'd walked out of, still living and breathing, and that was more than enough.

"Are you alright?" they said softly to Sidekick, still struggling to catch their breath, purple bruises forming an ugly circle around their neck.

"F-fine," they stammered as Leader helped them up. "Thanks for saving my life."

"You shouldn't be thanking me for doing my job. My team's safety comes first," they replied in a monotone. And even if they'd sounded emotionless, they'd felt it with all their being.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Travelling to the base hadn't taken much time, thankfully. But truth be told, it was enough for the adrenaline's pain-killing effects to wear off, and the pain to make itself known again, intruding harshly without the courtesy of a warning, Team Leader involuntarily biting into the already cracked and dry skin of their lips, lining the burning cuts with red streaks of blood.

Team Leader had thought they'd done good work of concealing their injury, pressing their hand into their ribs and praying it wouldn't stain their fingers a furious scarlet before they could tend to their injury in solitude.

"Are you alright, boss?" Hero asked tentatively, taking notice of their unsteady gait.

"Fine."

"Does 'fine' mean bleeding out like that to you?" Sidekick interjected, raising an eyebrow.

The leader's eyes flitted over to their treacherous hand stained a bold red.

"What the hell?" Hero attested, eyes widening in horror.

All hell broke loose as Team Leader was drowned in looks of concern and sharp gasps, their team smothering them in a sea of 'Are you alright's.

"I SAID I'M FINE!" they hollered, slamming the door to their quarters shut, showing more emotion than they had in almost years.

They collapsed against the door, shutting their eyes and wincing, now that no one was around to hear them.

They hated yelling at their team like that, but they just. . .didn't want all the pity, all the concern. The idea felt frankly poisonous to think about.

Some part of them, one they'd buried deep into their heart, locked away with chains, the key somewhere Leader knew they couldn't find. Just for once, to let someone care for their wounds, to tell them they could rest, to murmur something useless and sweet into their hair as their fingers scratched across their scalp. . .

Leader swore softly. They weren't willing to settle into the vulnerability that came with this. They could survive without it just fine.

A knock pulled them out of their thoughts. "Leader? Can we just talk about this?"

The gentle voice belonged to Vigilante. Formerly Villain, but they were far from that now, switching sides when Team Leader had rescued them and hadn't tortured them like they'd expected. Their relationship had evolved once Vigilante had hummed out a careless 'I love you', and Leader had realised they'd felt the same.

The same person who'd managed to win Leader's affections could surely get them to open a goddamn door. Thus, after a few moments of stubborn silence, they furiously wrenched the door open.

"Leader," they breathed out softly before they could protest. "I know, you don't like showing this side of you, but I promise, it doesn't make you any less strong. You saved us all, you killed Supervillain. This is hardly your first time making the impossible happen. We won't forget all that because being stabbed hurts you. You're human, Leader."

"I can do it myself," they said through gritted teeth.

"With a sprained wrist?" They raised an eyebrow and glared at them.

They tried for a few false starts, but all that came out was a muffled whine.

"Please, let me take care of you," their lover pleaded, eyes sparkling with tears threatening to spill. At that, Team Leader finally caved in.

They pulled them up on the bed, struggling to shoulder their well-muscled figure. Before they could do anything, they were interrupted by a sharp, "Don't use anaesthetic, we've got a limited supply. Someone else might need it more."

Vigilante relented, letting out an exasperated sigh. They pressed a towel soaked in alcohol to the wound, drawing out a sharp hiss from Leader that pained Vigilante's to hear. It felt like acid. "Shhh, love. You're so brave, this won't take long."

Their deft fingers worked as they stitched the torn flesh back together. And eventually, they were done. They pulled the leader up so that they were sitting with their back against the headboard carefully, bringing a glass of water to their lips as they helped them swallow a few pills.

"Before you say anything, we have plenty of those, so shut your pretty mouth and take them."

Leader snorted, complying, but making a show of rolling their eyes.

Vigilante pulled them closer, so that their head rested on their chest, carding their fingers through their hair. "You're okay, you're fine, it's over now."

Involuntarily, Team Leader could feel their breathing slow to match Vigilante's, feeling calmer than they ever had in years, that serenity washing away any inkling of self-imposed guilt they'd had for giving in.

"I gotta go clean up."

"I admit, I prefer it when you smell like cologne as opposed to blood and sweat, but you need to rest, sweetheart."

Leader didn't have the time to accept or refuse as they slipped into the welcoming embrace of an exhaustion-induced sleep.

It was okay to be vulnerable for a moment, if it was around someone you trusted with your life. To be cared for is a feeling worth going to hell and back for.

Notes: Not edited. Yes yes, you can sue me, but I gotta study and Ig I don't have enough braincells to edit? I'm sorryyyy

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

if anyone has any Team Leader Revealing They’re Injured And Team Proceeds To Be Worried writing please tag me i have a craving

[purplehairedwonder]

I wish you would write a fic where… Law was trapped within his own mental space/mind and the only way out is an outsider baring witness to what basically amounts to his defining lifes moments.

Funny you say this, anon. I started a fic like this ages ago but never got past the first scene. The general plot was that Law gets hit by a devil fruit that traps him in a dream world, one where his family and Cora lived, and he starts forgetting his old life, but in the real world he's dying, so Luffy has to go into his dream to convince him to return to real life. Here's what's currently sitting in my WIP doc:

Law jolted awake to the sounds of banging at his door. He frowned. His crew only ever pounded on his door if it was an emergency. His muscles tensed, and he opened his mouth to reply, but the words died on his tongue as a female voice called from the other side of the door, “Law! Did you oversleep again? You’re going to be late for work!”

That wasn’t Ikkaku.

And when did Law oversleep?

Before Law could move, the door slammed open, revealing a young woman a couple of years younger than Law. She had brown hair and wore scrubs and an annoyed expression.

“Aha! You did oversleep again!” There was a mix of exasperation and fondness in her voice.

Law was certain he’d never seen her before. Except…

The young woman threw her arms up in the air. “I’m not going to cover for you with Dad today. You still owe me from the last time.”

Law’s breath caught in his throat. Dad?

“Lami?” he breathed out incredulously before his brain could remind him that Lami had died in a fire waiting for Law to save her from the closet he’d placed her in.

“What?” his little sister demanded. “Don’t give me that puppy dog look, Law. I’m not going to fall for it again. Just because you’re the top cardiothoracic surgeon in Flevance doesn’t mean you always get to keep people waiting.”

Flevance?

And that was when Law realized, glancing around the room illuminated by the light in the hallway, that this was not his room on the Polar Tang.

He had to be dreaming, Law realized as he stared at the grown-up version of his little sister. It wasn’t unusual that Law would dream of his family, though this was a new one. He more regularly dreamt of their deaths, or, when his brain was feeling particularly self-flagellating, his family discovering what he had done—who he had become—in the wake of their deaths, the disappointment driving him into wakefulness.

But this… this was something new.

Even if this was a dream, it still felt like a gift somehow.

“Lami,” he repeated wonderingly. He wasn’t sure he’d dreamt of her as an adult before; she was perpetually the little girl Law had loved and failed to protect in his dreams. Seeing his subconscious’s prediction of what she would have looked like had she grown up took his breath away; she was beautiful.

Something in her expression softened. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Hurry your ass up, big brother,” she said before turning and leaving the room.

His chest aching, Law pulled the covers off and put his bare feet on the carpeted floor. With a sigh, he reached for the lamp on the bedside table and turned it on. He glanced around the room, noting the messy desk and overstuffed bookshelves that weren’t so different than his captain’s quarters on the Tang. The walls were sparsely decorated, but his eyes were immediately drawn to a framed picture on the bedside table.

Hands shaking, Law picked up the frame and looked down at a picture of the Trafalgar family; his parents, bookending the picture, smiled widely for the camera as Law’s father had an arm around Law’s (who looked to be in his early 20s) shoulders and his mother held onto Lami’s (who would’ve been in her late teens). There were no white spots on anyone’s skin.

He felt a pressure building behind his eyes, so put the frame down and rubbed his face through his hands. He wasn’t sure what had brought this dream on, and, if past was prologue, it was bound to turn into a nightmare sooner rather than later. These brief moments of reprieve were welcome, nonetheless.

Not knowing what else to do, Law pushed himself out of bed and into the hallway. He followed the bitter aroma of coffee to the kitchen, where an empty mug sat next to a coffee maker. He poured a cup and took a sip, looking out over the space. If Lami had woken him up, they must live together in this dream world. The kitchen was tidy—probably didn’t get much use if both occupants were doctors—and the living room had a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table with some books and flowers as decoration.

Law wasn’t sure where it came from, but he had the sudden sense that he and his sister had always gotten along well here. He shut his eyes and let his mind drift, subconscious filling in the details of his dream life.

Law had moved out of the Trafalgar home once he’d graduated med school and had started practicing. Once Lami had started her residency in pediatrics, Law had suggested she move in with him, as his place was close by. Both Trafalgar siblings were younger than their peers in med school and during their residencies, having the advantage of their parents being two of the top doctors in the country and the training that came with it. Any talk of nepotism was quickly dispelled as they displayed their exceptional skills.

Law opened his eyes. It was a nice dream, and Law couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one. He really shouldn’t be complaining, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

After finishing his cup of coffee, Law went back to his dream self’s bedroom and let his dream self’s muscle memory take him through his morning routine. He and Lami were out the door only a couple of minutes later than they should have been. Somehow Law knew they were walking toward Flevance General Hospital, and Lami—more of a morning person than Law would ever be—oohed and aahed at the way the pinks and oranges of the sunrise reflected off the white buildings and roads, as though she didn’t see the same thing every morning. (Of course she didn’t. Flevance had burned years ago, taking the Trafalgar family with it.) Her zest for life was what made her such a good doctor and helped her connect with the kids she worked with.

They entered the hospital, waving to the receptionist at the front and greeting fellow doctors and nurses as they made their way to the break room. Law’s mind filled in the names and faces of each person, some he remembered from his childhood and others he must be imagining.

“There you are!”

Law looked up from the locker he was putting his jacket in and exchanging for his white coat. His breath caught in his throat as his father walked through the doors. He had more gray hair and lines on his face than when Law had last seen him, but he looked happy.

And alive.

“Dad,” Law breathed.

Law started as his father threw an arm around his shoulders. “I hope you didn’t oversleep again, Law. You know you don’t need to stay up until all hours reading case studies. A good doctor—”

“Is a well-rested doctor,” Law found himself finishing, though he didn’t know where that had come from.

His father chuckled. “Exactly.” He let Law go and turned to look at both his children. “Your mother expects you both for a late dinner tonight, so don’t forget.”

Lami elbowed Law in the side. “He means you.”

Law rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Lams. I hadn’t figured that one out.”

“You’re always working so hard, son. We don’t see you enough at home.”

“Sorry,” Law said, finding it surprisingly easy to fall into this character. He’d spent more than a decade imagining what it would be like, after all.

“Never apologize for helping people, Law. But don’t forget to help yourself, okay?” his father said.

“I’ll be there tonight,” Law groused good-naturedly.

His father chuckled and headed out of the door. “Lami will make sure of it.”

Lami saluted her father as he left then turned to Law. “Don’t forget to eat something between patients today, yeah?”

“Stop fussing,” he muttered, mussing Lami’s hair.

She stuck her tongue out at him and then headed out of the room. Law shut the locker and leaned back against it, crossing his arms. This was the life he’d dreamed of having as a child, the one that had been torn from him. And it was kind of perfect.

Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)

[olameni]

Swatching some inks for a pen pal

Top to bottom:

Robert Oster Violet Dreams

Troublemaker ink Petrichor

Diamine Ancient Copper

J. Herbin Rouille d’Ancre

Lamy Rhodonite

Noodler’s Apache Sunset

[paro-h]

Something from the art journal today

[sentientcave]

Filling a notebook is so gratifying. If you notebook collectors out there are looking for a sign to start using them, this is it.

[dia-oro]

Just admiring how pretty did look in the simplicity of it.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Short Prompt # 11

TW: Blood, restraints, murder mention, injury, captivity

Not edited

If Hero had hit rock-bottom before, this was infinitely worse. They vividly remembered the cold metal connecting with their skull, making spots dance in their vision till their world faded to a pitch black abyss of utter silence, the pounding headache they were suffering a testament to that.

Their arms were bound tightly behind their back, the thick rope unwilling to relent to any efforts of escape, only chafing against the crime-fighter's skin, reopening poorly healed cuts. The gag shoved into their mouth rendered their throat dry enough to rival a desert. Their legs felt like they were made of lead, and their muscles were on fire. They'd gotten themselves thrown into hell, it seemed.

The door creaked open, letting a sterile, white light blind the hero as it snuck into the awfully dim room. They cursed through the gag because every time that door opened, their torture was renewed, their wounds slowly reopened again.

Except instead of one of their many tormentors, their sworn enemy, Villain, stood face to face with them.

Unlike the hero's pathetically miserable state, the villain looked immaculate, untouchable. Their dark hair hung in loose curls, and their clothes were pristine and very soft-looking. They looked like they'd just stepped straight out of the salon, and Hero hated it with a burning passion.

"If I take out the gag, you'll behave?"

The look in Hero's eyes had already delivered the desired message more effectively than a thousand filthy swear words would.

The villain had the decency to finally cave in and slice through their restraints and pull the gag out of their mouth.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

When the hero didn't follow suit, they turned back to them, arms folded across their chest, and they raised an eyebrow at them. Always one for theatricality.

"I can't walk," Hero whined pathetically, fixing the villain with wide, adorable, manipulative eyes.

"Your legs aren't broken," they snapped.

"You try walking normally when you've been restrained for weeks!"

Villain scooped them up against their chest effortlessly. "Keep this up, and I'll bloody well murder you," they growled

"You'd miss me too much," the hero purred, tracing the curve of their jaw in a featherlight caress. Even when they were covered in dirt and blood, they still managed to send shivers up the criminal's spine.

"Wait." The crime-fighter's tone suddenly sobered up, making the villain stop in their tracks. "How do you expect to just waltz out of here with me in tow?"

The hero was usually the brains of the operation, but the villain wasn't too dull either. "I killed them all," they said softly, face flushed with embarrassment.

"Tu as tué pour moi? Tu es vraiment mon autre moitié," they whispered in awe.

Villain never really understood anything Hero said in French, but it sounded so alluring, they loved listening to it anyway.

"I just didn't know what you'd think of me," they answered sheepishly.

"What would you think if I told you I've always had fantasies of someone killing for me?"

"I-I'd kill a thousand more if I had to. They can't hurt you and expect to walk away from it unscathed," they snarled.

Hero pressed a kiss into their nemesis's temple, their mint-scented hair conditioner hitting them like a kick to the ribs.

"I'm going to spoil you so bad, you'll forget all this even happened," the villain promised.

"I'd want nothing more, mon amour."

"Finally, I understand what you're saying!"

The hero laughed, soft and musical, and it set the villain's heart on fire.

Hero had always been the one fixing up Villain's messes, stitching them up in the middle of the night and trying to save them from their path of self-destruction. This time, they could finally let someone else take care of them, let the weight fall from their shoulders, close their eyes, and finally feel safe for once.

To find someone that holds you in the highest regard, that knows your value and isn't afraid to show that to the world is a blessing without a price. To see your soul reflected in someone else's eyes is the most beautiful way to spell out the word 'love'. Et quand je pense de l'amour, c'est ton nom qui est toujours dans mon coeur.

Notes: Can you guess what the stuff in French means? If you don't want to, check the replies for the translation!

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[fairygoremutt]

Il porcellino in Mercato Nuovo, Florence

[bmpmp3]

Guy who just got a new fountain pen nib voice: I just got a new fountain pen nib

[hiemaldesirae]

she shines as bright as the sun ☀️

[cursed-tm]

[caius-hhhhhh]

love writing out a whole scene and then realising “wait, fuck, this serves exactly the same purpose as an earlier scene that was in fact twelve times better”.

rip the sentence with the verb “alkalize”. try again next time ig

[itsyaboy-mars]

i really, really wanna bring lammy into tsbmbty...