#send me inspiration

[purrincess-chat]

Alright, now that Ladrien June is over and my life is calmer I'm gonna try to finish that fic I started 😅 One day I'll have time to actually write during the themed month.

[anna-scribbles]

old doodles from the archives 🫶

[yellowvixen]

week 34: big pant

[tawnysoup]

You both jump in place for a bit, grinning.

[chloesimaginationthings]

What’s William Afton’s problem in FNAF….

[noodles-and-tea]

You’ve just got this real magic, capturing the sunshine summer of childhood in the tiny Pines twins. Like I am fully convinced I could show the overcast sky one of your pictures of Stanley and the sky would be like. Pack it up clouds, time to get back to the sun.

Ohh thank you :(((((

[nowwheresmynut]

Pess & The Gang

<< More from the Pess Cinematic Universe >>

[azherwind-art]

I think Apollo doesn't let it go under 20% if he can help it

[shirks-all-responsibilities]

Me: What would happen if I slowed *that moment* down...

Me: 👀👀👀 And um...what if I, um, looped it?

🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 I...am having THOTS...and thinking about...SITUATIONS...and I... 😵‍💫

Pedro Pascal as Joel Miller in The Last of Us, HBO (Episode 9)

[mangostarjam]

breakfast options — haikyuu, miya osamu x f!reader, neighbors au, set a little before the timeskip, just some soft fluffy fluff, 1.4k words

Miya Osamu wakes up to the early dawn light knowing two things.

One: That was the best sleep he's had in months.

Two: This is not his bed.

The sheets are softer — the bed is narrower and pushed up against a wall — and it smells like fresh laundry detergent when Osamu knows for a fact that he hasn't lugged his laundry to the machines downstairs in weeks.

This is not his bed. This isn't even his room or his apartment. The biggest, most obvious clue nuzzles into his chest and sighs.

Osamu's arm tightens around you automatically.

He's so fucked.

Your bare legs are pressed up against his own and you're so soft and warm and relaxed, breathing deeply in sleep, utterly unconcerned about the fact that your neighbor somehow got into your apartment and into your bed with you. Osamu can feel the barest sliver of skin beneath his fingers as your shirt rises and wonders how much his ma will yell at him for messing up this badly with you.

"Mm… 'Samu…?"

He's so fucked.

"Yeah?"

"Why're you awake?"

Osamu can't help the fond huff that escapes his lips and you bury your face further into his chest. He wonders if you can feel the taiko drum beat of his heart in your dreams.

You sniff and your fingers curl into his shirt. "Now I'm awake," you complain quietly, voice muffled in his chest. "Did you need to go to work or something? You seemed so tired last night. Sleep a lil' longer."

"Hey… did I… did I get the wrong door? Last night?" His voice is scratchy, but you don't seem to mind. You shiver a little in his hold and he automatically tugs you closer.

"Hmm…?" It takes a moment as you think through the sleep fog of your mind. Osamu can hear the distant click of your refrigerator humming and the chirp of birds waking up outside.

"You used your spare key and scared the heck out of me," you mumble, shoulders shaking as you snicker at the memory. Osamu wishes he could see your face — well, maybe not. His own cheeks are burning with mortification. "You were like a zombie, Miya-kun."

Something in his stomach swoops with disappointment at the return of honorifics. But — you still haven't untangled yourself from him, and you seem perfectly content to lay here with his arms around you, so maybe — ?

"Sorry 'bout that," he murmurs. "I musta been more wiped than I thought."

"You need to take care of yourself," you scold lightly, finally peeking up at his face. Your eyes widen when they meet his, and for some strange reason you immediately reach up to cover your mouth. Osamu's stomach clenches with hurt. It's not like he was planning on kissing you right now — not after practically breaking into your apartment and commandeering your bed.

And especially not if you don't want him to. Not if you're hiding from him like this.

"Sorry," you mumble. Your gaze feels intentional. Osamu wonders vaguely if he has drool on his cheek. "I don't want you to smell my morning breath."

It's silent for a moment. The two of you breathe in unison as Osamu stares down at you, incredulous, until you break the connection and bury your face in his chest again. "Oy."

"I'm going back to sleep."

That makes him laugh. His body jostles yours and you twist around defensively, nearly dislodging his hold as he clamps his arm back around your waist. "Miya-kun," you mumble. He can hear the pout in your voice, even if he can't see it. "Let's go back to sleep."

"There's no way I'm fallin' back asleep like this," Osamu says.

"What's wrong?"

Nothing's wrong. This is everything he's wanted with you for the past few years, ever since he first saw you go wide eyed over the neighborly bento he held out to you, the delight in your huge grin only growing when you looked up and met his eye.

It's been days and months and years since then, time filled with fond teasing over textbooks, quiet secrets whispered over cups of coffee way too late at night, grocery shopping together and trying out gimmicky snacks that stained your lips blue. You're his neighbor, his friend, his staunch supporter.

His classmate, a few times, when your schedules aligned in university. His coworker, sometimes, when you volunteer yourself to help him with his stall at various events around the city.

But that's it. Or — that was it, until you started getting touchier and clingier and Osamu's hopes spiraled higher and higher.

"'Samu? Did you fall back asleep?"

Osamu presses his face into your hair. He can be weak just this once, right? It's still too early to confess — his business doesn't even have a storefront yet, he hasn't made a name for himself yet — and you deserve someone with all that and more.

"Nah," he says quietly, "I'm up."

"Don't get any ideas," you mumble sleepily. "I haven't had a man in my bed in years, so if I punch you later it's 'cause I forgot about last night."

This shouldn't make him so happy. He hides his smile in your hair. He's been so busy lately it's been hard trying to figure out if you've had anyone over, though your apartment has always only shown signs of one occupant. He didn't want to assume.

"Why didn't ya kick me out?"

"That'd be cruel and unusual," you scoff. Your fingers curl over his forearm before sliding to his hand. Osamu's breath catches for just a second as you begin playing with his fingers, seemingly oblivious to how the temperature beneath the blankets has ratcheted up several degrees.

"You can kick me out now, ya know," Osamu offers half heartedly. At least he can safely tell his ma that he tried.

You bring his hand up to your lips and his heart just about stops. Softly — so softly — you press a kiss to his palm and then his wrist, featherlight touches that have every nerve ending standing at attention. Osamu shifts his hips away guiltily, resisting the urge to press up into you, heart slamming back into rhythm at full force.

"You'd leave without having breakfast first?"

"You'd let me make ya breakfast?"

You bite the tip of his finger and he bites back a groan. "Do you always make your girls breakfast the morning after?"

Osamu frowns. He wants to see your face. "There's never been a girl or a morning after."

"Oh." You hum thoughtfully, pressing his fingertip to your lips, entirely unaware of the silent battle Osamu is waging against his own body behind you. "So I'll be the first?"

"You're the only one it's ever gonna be."

Stupid. Osamu can practically hear his twin yelling at him to just confess already.

He can feel the curve of your smile against his palm as you press another featherlight kiss there. "I'll keep waiting, then," you say quietly, voice muffled against his skin.

You shift and turn back to face him, putting a few precious inches between your bodies as you blink up at him in the slowly brightening light. Osamu can't help staring, memorizing the gentle curve of your smile and the softness in your sleepy gaze. His heart feels like it's threatening to burst out of his chest, joy expanding like bubbles in his ribcage.

"What d'ya want for breakfast?"

Your smile grows crooked.

"I want an omelet this time."

Osamu can feel his own lips tugging up in the corners. "And next time?"

"Hmm. How about a breakfast onigiri?"

A laugh escapes his lips and his grin only grows wider with your answering giggle. "I can do that for ya."

"What about a kiss?"

Your eyes are sparkling in the light and he — he wants to say "yes" — but then your expression falls and you hold up a hand suddenly. "Wait, I take that back," you explain quickly, "I need to brush my teeth first."

Osamu laughs. He tugs you closer, an arm heavy around your waist, anchoring you back into him even as you whine. "You're gonna hafta get used to this," he points out smugly.

You slap your hands over your mouth and glare halfheartedly at him. "No way."

"It's alright, darlin'," he says. You blink as his gaze steadies on yours. Osamu wonders if you have any idea that you look at him like this — like he's special, and deserving, and like you trust him with everything. He's tried for months now to pretend he doesn't see it, scared to get his hopes up too high, but now?

Now he hopes you'll always look at him like this. "I won't make you wait much longer."

[sherlockggrian]

ariana griande christmas pop album when

[frenchphobe]

griddlehark modern pen pal au where they don’t know each other but are assigned as pen pals for those pen pal projects you get in middle school and it just turns into them sending each other hate mail and somehow they just keep going for several years, even though they dont rly have to

[sleepymarimo]

toji x afab!reader // sfw // fluff

fans never thought race car driver! toji would get married. again.

his first was a spontaneous one, a quick marriage at a shoddy chapel after a win in vegas. three months.

and the second? the daughter of one of his sponsors, a pretty trust fund baby through and through. didn’t last two weeks. minus another wife and a sponsor.

the driver has never been crazy popular- he’s more infamous than anything, reckless. he came from a rich family, but after he decided to pursue racing instead of business, they cut him off completely.

any money he makes is quickly gambled away. when he wins he’ll throw a party as if he actually cares, but really he’s just floating through life. hell, even his own team (and his already low number of sponsors) consider ending things with him.

so they’re shocked when he starts turning things around, on his best behavior for at least the next year.

crew meetings? he’s there. special appearances? consider him booked.

for a minute they think he’s been in one too many crashes, then you come by the track one day for a special tour, and it all makes sense. he wasn’t trying to impress fans or sponsors, managers or other racers. it’s just you- he’s spent the last year courting you, proving himself, because he’s never wanted someone so bad in his entire life.

and after he wins his next race, he pops down on one knee right then and there, still in his suit and covered with sweat.

his popularity grows after that, fans all over wearing his number, cheering him on. more sponsors beg for a chance, more races are won, and everything is just better.

it’s the longest marriage he’s ever been in. he only wants it if it’s with you, after all.

then, less than two years later, he’s watching you through the jumbotron as you shuffle toward your seating area- his only vip- while some fans cheer for you. you’re at the same track he’d proposed, a long coat shrugged over your shoulders and a smile on your face.

when the camera cuts to him, he gives it a wink. a signal.

it’s your cue to shrug off your coat, reveal the growing baby bump you’ve been hiding for the past few months. the cameras are back on you in less than a second, the murmurs of the crowd becoming louder. some fans cheer out of shock, some are envious, but the roar is all the same.

toji is filled with nothing but pride.

his crew pats him on the back, says it’s good luck for the races ahead, but first place be damned. verdant eyes stayed glued to you and he’s so utterly whipped.

he’ll keep racing, even if the thought of retiring early to be with you is a tempting one. at the very least, he can give you a few more kiddos so you won’t be so lonely in the vip section.

[nocek]

Self fulfilling dog dad curse from the previous comic has self-fulfilled!. Threat of promised snoodie from another comic also has been fulfilled. And to tie it all up Deadpool's last visit was either this nsfw dream or just regular pestering.

and oh my god this one took forever >.< Idk if it was some sort of artblock, or I'm loosing like my fixation (oh god please no >.< I don't have a new one) but I don't actually have another comic idea and it's scary >.<

Please keep your fingers crossed I'll get over it >.<

[bacchuschucklefuck]

prayer of the day:

[somegrumpynerd]

Texting the homies for help because you fell asleep and got turned into a living body pillow