sienna

“don’t bother being good to me if you’re not gonna be consistent.”

[drewssgirl]

. 𖦹˙— INTRODUCING SIENNA . . .

" heart on my sleeve cuz i'm not a pussy ass bitch "

⌞ GET TO KNOW ME ⌝ she/her. 22. vanilla. coffee addict. gold jewellery. dessert. nyc. taurus. drew starkey. "like". the weeknd obsessed.

: ̗̀➛ m.list l taglist l currently working on: fwb!rafe x fwb!reader

©DREWSSGIRL 𖦹 est. 2025 — please do not copy, translate or repost my work as your own, thank you!

[raphoupix]

wow Jude

[drewssgirl]

are. you. joking.

[rma-gifs]

[47foden]

Jude Bellingham request where the reader teases Jude about the news that England players will be allowed to take viagra for the Mexico vs England match because of the altitude. And she makes a joke about how his size and how it might cause and offside.

VIAGRA - ju. bellingham

inwhich! you tease jude about him and his team taking viagra before the mexico vs. england game.

frannytalks! this is so short, didn’t know if you wanted smut haha, i hope you like this! and he lowkey would cause an offside. 👀 don’t forget to join my taglist(s) here!

jude had always left his phone unattended and you would have to shut it off for him. this time he left it on the kitchen table while he was getting ready to go for a game, you were mid yelling his name to get his phone but you stopped before you could finish.

you saw his team group chat going crazy and you had to take a look. as you looked and scrolled you saw mentions of taking viagra for a joke because of the altitude.

you laugh to yourself quietly as jude comes up behind you, “you said my name love?”

you slightly jump, turning his phone face-down, “oh, yeah, your phone.”

he gave you a quick kiss, “thanks baby.”

you grin to yourself, knowing what you’re about to say to him, “you feeling okay?”

“yeah, why?” you furrowed his eyebrows, grabbing his phone.

“even after the viagra?” you hold in your laugh, “or did you not take that yet?”

jude gave you a “really?” look as he rolled his eyes, chuckling softly, “okay y/n, enough.”

“you sure you’ll be able to play tonight baby?” you say, finally letting out a loud laugh.

“i’ll be fine, y/n, were you going through my phone?” he says, scrolling through messages.

you nod no, “why? are you all planning to take it at the same time?”

“y/n.” he says, glaring at you.

“maybe you shouldn’t jude, your size might cause an offside while you’re playing.” you wink, brushing your fingers across his lap.

he twitched, backing away, “shut up.”

“maybe i should help you out!” you say loudly while laughing because he’s walking away.

“just start the car!” he huffs from your shared bedroom.

“you sure you still want to go? they might not let you play with a third leg!” you bite your lip, holding in your laugh once again.

he didn’t respond, “it’s okay to have three legs, don’t be ashamed jude!” you say, finally grabbing the keys and walking away towards the car.

-

ju. bellingham taglist: @luvrgrl-222 , @soobieewoobiee , @laneyrainy0 , @mmonkeh3000 , @mariaaaalm , @dianazyb , @brune77e , @strwayberrymilktea , @oliseamorr , @ceziaa , @sourcandyfish , @rosyyyrube <3

perm. taglist: @pinkfashionkilla , @koneooo , @random34674 , @mumisntproudofme , @itsopinionsbased , @bangtan7553 , @eerilyjaggedconstruct , @putaaamadre <33

[aloubadu]

He's so cute

"I think they're playing your song"

"I think so, I better go" 😭

[mariejuli]

i'm 100% sure he does it on purpose

[wingkink]

btw it's so fucking stupid you can be anxious physically in your body even after you've decided mentally you don't care. I'm supposed to be in charge here

[glossiercheek]

he sure can put his hands on me. oh and that arrow celebration? oh my god…

by tiemyheartstrings on tiktok!

[folkloure]

⭑.ᐟ as long as you want

john logan x reader

summary: the first time you stay with him until the morning. short fic, smut-implied but mostly fluff. inspired by one of @rebelfell's headcanons, thank you! <3

Logan shifts in his sleep once he feels you trying to slip out the bed. 

“Don’t.” He says, voice hoarse from waking up in the middle of the night and arm stretching out to find you. “Don’t move.”

You have been on this same bed before, multiple times. First after one of his team’s winning games, two beers in, both giggling on the stools at Malone’s. Then again the next night, then the next week, always a fun fling before kissing goodbye and each going their own way. You and Logan have never had a talk about how things were moving, but oh, they were moving. 

You turn around to face him, his pretty eyes still closed, chest going up and down in a steady rhythm. He looks so… peaceful.

“I think I should go,” you whisper. Logan’s eyes open slightly, eyebrows furrowing before he starts shaking his head, and you giggle, “Before it gets too late.”

“Just stay the night,” he says, like it’s the obvious thing to do, “I’ll take you home in the morning.”

Thing is, John Logan might not reach the same level of whorish fame of his teammates, but you know the guy. Before this all started, you’ve heard through the grapevine of different girls (puckbunnies, if you will) who were once in your position: between his sheets after a good night — but never the morning. 

Guys like John Logan don’t do mornings. 

Your hands move to his head, fingers fixing his hair off his face. His eyes flutter closed from the tender touch, “Logan…”

“I know. I know, just–” he stops for a yawn, half his face squished on his pillow again while his hand pulls you gently, “Just stay, please?”

You stare at his sleepy face for a second, taking a deep breath before you answer, “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Logan’s mouth splits in a tired smile, “Cool. C’mere then.” 

—

He wakes up before you, nose pressed on the corner between your neck and shoulder, the soft reminiscence of perfume you were wearing last night the very first thing he acknowledges. Then, the morning light, and that’s where it hits him. 

You stayed the night.

Logan doesn’t want to wake you, but he can’t help himself. He presses his lips to your shoulder, voice muttering so low, “You’re here.”

“I am.” you mutter back, almost refusing to move and disturb the quietness. Actually, all you do is pull the bedsheets — his bedsheets — closer, bundling yourself under the comfiness of his blankets. Logan lets out a small chuckle, despite feeling the cold reaching his legs. He moves an inch closer, following you under the covers.

Logan moves his lips slowly from your shoulder up to your jaw, placing soft kisses. His arms move around your torso, bringing you closer to his chest. “You’re warm,” he says in a low voice, the low stubble on his face slightly tickling you, “And you’re so soft.”

His lips keep moving over to your behind your ear, then back to your neck, kissing and nibbling. Logan shifts, swiftly pining you to bed and astriding you. His arms are on each side of your body and your hands are moving, fingers brushing his forearms like you’re trying to memorize the shivers on his skin, nails scratching the back of his neck as he kisses you deeply.

It’s all so agonizingly slow — the way he moves, the sun peeking through the white curtains casting a glow over the room, his naked back looking golden under the haze. You close your eyes, and all you hear is a soft chuckle leaving Logan’s lips, trailing down your body again. He presses a kiss on your sternum, “So, so pretty.”

There’s no rush to it, and still, you can’t pinpoint when one movement changes to another, your limbs tangled with his, hips moving together and your quiet moans muffled by his lips. It’s different from all the frantic nights you’ve shared together until now. 

Slower, quieter, lovelier. 

Logan’s voice whispers soft words in your ear as your chest finds a rhythm again, “You’re good, honey. You’re perfect.”

You open your eyes and find he’s intently watching you, and you press a quick kiss on his lips, then a couple more over his nose and face. He relaxes his body, arms faltering beside you, whole weight now resting on top of you. 

“I’m assuming you’re not taking me home now, are you?”

Logan lets out an amused chuckle, “No, you stay as long as you want.” 

You don’t see yourself leaving his bed anytime soon.

notes: thank you for reading! first time writing for off campus <3 requests are open! likes/reblogs/thoughts are appreciated!

john logan masterlist

[puckmegirl]

UPTOWN GIRL (ft. John Logan)

blurb: a rich uptown girl with car issues keeps visiting the small garage off the highway where the owner’s super hot son works.

warnings: fem!reader, fluff, lowk ditzy!reader but not really, yummy mechanic!logan.

Logan heard you before he saw you.

He memorized the sound of those heels clicking against the rough pavement like a second heartbeat. After all, not many girls around this side of town wore vintage Prada pumps to an off-highway garage.

And even if they did, they most certainly did not own a BMW 6er f12 convertible.

Logan’s older brother Jeff was leaning against the workshop desk and sipping on a can of Coke when he saw you strut in. He sighed, “Here comes Lottie.”

The nickname was a running joke between the brothers. Jeff had muttered it under his breath when you first visited the shop and asked a question about diesel gas. He took one look at you and knew you were a clueless, rich girl who shouldn’t be visiting garages such as theirs.

Logan hadn’t entertained the nickname so much. He thought it was unnecessarily mean. Besides, Lottie was always a sweetheart in Princess and the Frog.

Jeff turned on his heels and disappeared into the garage’s office, leaving Logan to deal with you on his own.

Logan put down a spare part he was working on and turned around, leaning back against the counter.

You waved excitedly with a cheerful grin. “Hi, Logan!”

He smiled politely, “Hey…”

“Did you save my girl?” You asked, batting your lashes.

Logan nodded, “She’s all fixed up for you,” he said, walking over to the wall of car keys hung on hooks to retrieve yours.

You clapped your hands, “Yay!”

He chuckled whilst shaking his head. You got happy over the simplest of things. He thought it was endearing.

You walked over to your car. Nebula, as you called her. A fitting name for a sleek, black convertible with dark purple leather upholstery and shiny silver rims.

Logan came over and handed you your keys. “You wanna try her out?”

You nodded and unlocked your car before opening the driver’s side door. No beeping. Perfect.

You beamed at Logan. “You did it!”

He smiled with an easy laugh, feeling proud of his work. In reality, your car issue was a minor one; the door sensor just needed a replacement. Nothing about it required a lick of rocket science, and yet you looked at him as if he hung the stars in your galaxy.

You put your designer bag into your car and bent over to fish out your wallet. Logan stared at your body for a second before he caught himself, clearing his throat and looking away respectfully.

You stood up straight, holding your leather wallet between both hands, looking at him with a doe-eyed expression.

He scratched the back of his neck and gestured for you to follow him to the counter. The gritty sounds of his boots crunching the gravel below and the rhythmic click click click of your heels echoed through the garage.

Logan went around the counter and pulled out a receipt and wrote down the service you needed with the price. He slid the piece of paper to you but you just kept looking at his face with a smile. He blinked before realizing you didn’t care for the price. Right, he thought. Rich girls don’t worry about those things.

“Cash or card?” He asked.

You held up your metal black credit card.

Logan pursed his lips and nodded as he pulled out a card reader. You tapped your card without even glancing at the screen and clapped your hands when the machine beeped in satisfaction.

“Thank you, Logan,” you told him kindly.

He shrugged politely, “It’s no problem.”

You smiled at him. He returned it, “Do you want your recei—“

Before he could even hand you your proof of service, you were walking back to your car. He nodded to himself and stuffed the receipt into the cash register.

He watched as you exited the garage, waving at him enthusiastically as you drove by. He gave a small wave back.

+

A week later, your BMW pulled into the garage whilst Logan was working under a car.

He didn’t hear the sound of your heels this time as he had headphones in, blasting a classic rock song. He felt a shadow looming nearby so he turned and saw your heels appear. He paused and rolled out from under the car, meeting the sight of your broad smile peering down at him.

“Hi, Logan!”

“Hey…” He sounded confused. His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced around, “Didn’t you pick up your car last week?”

You nodded. “Yep. But my AC is broken now…” You pouted.

Hm, Logan thought. He sat up, “Oh, I didn’t see that when I did the diagnostic last week—“

“Must be a new issue, then. These foreign cars are all funny,” you replied, tilting your head.

He cleaned his hands with a rag before standing up. He had oil stains on his shirt and just a little smudge on his face. You thought he looked so ruggedly handsome.

“Let me take a look,” he said and you stepped out the way for him to crank open your hood and inspect the situation.

As he got to work, you leaned against your car and watched. After a moment, you asked, “How was your weekend?”

People don’t usually talk to Logan when he repairs their cars. Especially not pretty, rich girls like you.

“It was good, played hockey, worked here in the shop,” he responded casually.

You nodded along even though he couldn’t see you.

“Did you win?” You asked.

He laughed, an amused sound. “Yeah…yeah, we won.”

You clapped your hands, “Yay!”

Logan laughed again. It was cute, he thought, how you always clapped at good news.

“You like hockey?” He asked, looking over your hood to meet your eyes.

You hummed, “I only recently got into it. My family prefers watching polo, golf, or tennis.”

Rich people sports, he wanted to say. That made sense.

“Recently, huh?” He said instead, ducking his head to keep working. “Who should I thank for putting you onto hockey?” He joked.

You smiled shyly and said, “You…”

His hand paused. The parts of your car suddenly looking like alphabet soup moving in jumbled letters. He lifted his head to meet your gaze again. But before he could manage a reply, you changed the subject. “Is it broken beyond repair?” You asked, turning your attention to your car parts.

He snapped out of his daze and shook his head. “Uhh, no. No, you just need AC coolant.”

“Is that an easy fix?” You asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, the easiest.” He said.

You smiled in relief. “Thank goodness I have you fixing my car,” you told him.

He smiled at that.

He fixed your car, you chirped out a “Thank you, Logan!”, you paid without looking at the bill, and waved goodbye as you left.

“That the BMW girl again?” Logan’s dad asked as he stepped out the office.

“Yeah,” Logan replied, wiping his hands.

“Lottie back again so soon?” Jeff teased. Logan rolled his eyes at the jab.

“You overcharge her?” His dad asked.

Logan looked at him, “Why would I do that?”

His dad shrugged, “Luxurious car fee?”

Logan squinted his eyes, “We don’t do that.”

Jeff piped in, “We could. She doesn’t even check her receipts.”

Logan looked between his dad and brother, “So what? We charge her fair and square.”

His dad shared a looked with Jeff before he went back inside the office.

+

Week after week, you came by to the garage. First it was an oil change, then a rim replacement, then a loose window ribbon, then a tire with low air, and so on.

By week 7, Logan had had enough. It’s not that he didn’t like seeing you, no. Far from it. He actually enjoyed your company. He often looked forward to when you’d come by and say Hi, Logan! in that sing-song voice of yours, your joyful smile, and innocent questions.

But now he was noticing a pattern.

So when you rolled in that Thursday night like clockwork, he didn’t go up to you. He stayed by the workshop desk and watched you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hi, Logan!” You beamed with a gleeful wave.

But upon meeting his stern expression, your smile faltered and your hand slowly dropped back to your side. You looked around the empty garage before walking over to him in hesitant steps. The sound of your heels filled the space between the two of you. You stopped in front of him and flattened down your skirt, a nervous tic of yours that you never noticed before.

“Y/n,” he said, his tone serious. “This is the seventh time you’ve come to the garage.”

You nodded, “Nebula keeps acting up—“

“No, she doesn’t.”

You looked at your feet. No smile, no lively clapping.

His arms uncrossed and he stepped closer. He wasn’t angry. No, it wasn’t that. Logan isn’t an idiot. He knew. He knew you had a crush on him, knew the only reason you showed up time and time again was just to spend time with him. Why else would you come? He knew families like yours had their own repairmen at fancy dealerships who could fix any problem. You didn’t need to come into his family’s garage.

Yet, you did.

Logan figured it out by week 4. But truth be told, he never mentioned it because a part of him liked being around you too. He liked hearing your upbeat voice, the familiar tap of your heels, the sound of your laugh. So he stayed quiet, he fixed your tires, and refilled your car’s oil. He went along with it. Because he liked your company just as much as you liked his.

Unable to lie to him, you lifted your head and met his eyes. “I did those things to my car on purpose.” You confessed quietly.

Logan blinked. His stance eased at your admission and he looked at you with soft eyes.

“I watched a YouTube video on how to drain AC coolant,” you added. “And drove around until my tires lost some of its pressure, and—”

“Y/n,” he held your chin with his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that to see me.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at him. He smiled gently, “I…like seeing you. With or without Nebula.”

“You do?” You asked.

He nodded, “I do.”

He leaned in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. But you stayed. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss. Not hungry or desperate, just a soft sealing; a mutual understanding—I like you and you like me.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. You looked at him with a honeyed, dazed expression. He smiled down at you and pecked your lips once more. You weren’t a spoiled, rich girl to him. Not clueless or ditzy. You were just…you. A sweetheart with a crush on a cute guy who would do anything to see him. You were Lottie.

He glanced behind you at your car. He pulled away with a reluctant sigh, “What did you do to her this time?”

You smiled sheepishly, “I jammed my gearshift…”

He chuckled softly, both amused and fondly exasperated by you. “Okay…let me take a look.” He said, lacing his hand with yours and bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss.

omg first off campus post, i’m nervy xx

[blueforwellsy]

have you ever tried this one..

[urcoolgf]

BIKER!RAFE MEETING HIS GF

lol heyyyyy is this thing still on???? i know i said i was only gonna write for mila & gryff, buuuuut… i started this draft like a couple days before that, so i wanted to finish it. anyway! you’ll notice i know absolutely nothing about bikes… this is true! i just LOVE me a good biker, so i had to make this a thing just go with it pls😊

when rafe got the bike, he found himself driving mainly at night. he’d spend a lot of time on the top floor of a nearby parking garage, just watching the sky and listening to music. and yeah… he’d made a few thirst traps under a secret tiktok account where he didn’t show his face. can a guy live? they’d gained some traction too. he was kind of building up a little platform at this point, and he thrived on the comment section. and sure, he’d been a little bit of a tease replying to some of the crazy girls, but once again… can a guy live?

he never really meant any of it though, it was all in good fun, just something to do to pass the time, and show off his bike. his content was mainly him driving around the parking garage at crazy hours of the night. sometimes he’d post interactions on the road or at gas stations. it didn’t really matter what he posted, girls went crazy over it. did he maybe feed into it a little when replying to girls’ comments? yes. was this maybe a little cruel? yeah, probably. did he love the attention? absolutely yes.

however, one night was about to change everything and he didn’t even know it yet.

he was on one of his usual late night drives. the camera was rolling so he could get some content for his next post, and as he was speeding down the highway, he noticed a car not too far in front of him—windows rolled down, radio almost blasting, and a girl. he sped up a little more to get closer—just enough to barely be behind her window. he could hear her singing along…

i see you in the city

do they know you’re with me?

are you with me, baby?

girl, you’re with me, baby

‘cause baby, close just isn’t close enough

maybe my passion just ain’t enough

i can’t feel that you love me

he unintentionally sped up just enough to come into her view—right beside her car, basically lined up with her open window. oops! even with her radio booming, she heard the rev of his engine and whipped her head to the left, only to be met with a tatted biker with a tinted black helmet. the moment rafe saw her eyes, illuminated only by the light of her dash and the street lamps posted along the interstate, he was hooked. yes, he knew how stupid that seemed, but he couldn’t help it. the way her eyes looked right at him, without her even knowing, she had a gaze that he’d do anything to keep on him.

thankfully she couldn’t tell that he was losing his mind as she smiled mischievously and turned back to look at the road and even continued singing. even though rafe was reeling right now, he had a sudden burst of confidence. he quickly looked back at the highway, speeding up to get in front of her and motioned his hand to take the next exit—his parking garage exit—looking back at her and nodding, trying to signal he wanted her to follow.

he looked back again and again, waiting for any sort of confirmation from her. she only nodded with a look on her face that was a mix of curiosity and challenge. but hey, a win was a win. he merged off the highway onto the exit, looking back to make sure she followed. there she was right behind him, music still playing, her arm slung outside the open window, waving through the wind.

once rafe pulled up to the entrance of the parking garage, he navigated to the top floor—empty, and just below the exposed level. he came to a stop in the middle of the floor, turning to nod at the girl who parked her car just behind him. he moved off the bike up to her driver side door, resting his arms on her car—his helmet still masking his face.

“you’re quite bold, aren’t you stranger?” she smirked, turning down her radio to a low hum. the short-sleeve, black compression shirt hugged his figure perfectly, leaving nothing to her imagination. she couldn’t help but linger, just a little. his tattoos weaved down both his arms, but they weren’t dense enough to cover all his tanned skin. thankfully, he wasn’t paying attention to her gaze, too fixated on answering her “question”.

his laugh was slightly muffled through the helmet before his husky voice replied, “what can i say? i do what it takes.”

“ya know i’m at an unfair disadvantage here…,” she challenged him, narrowing her big beautiful eyes ever so slightly.

“yeah? ‘n why’s that?” his tone just a little sarcastic, but still a curious tone hidden underneath.

“i don’t even know what you look like… stranger,” she emphasized the last word, widening her eyes but she couldn’t hide her smile.

rafe’s head dropped, shaking it with a breathless laugh, “alright… fair point.”

he took a step away from the car to slide the helmet off his head, letting his arm fall to his side with the weight of it in his hand. he ruffed a hand through the buzzed hair on his head, and looked back up at the girl. “better, pretty girl?,” he smirked, scratching the back of his neck, attempting to hide his (obvious) nervousness.

“oh? this i can work with,” she replied with a sarcastic nonchalantness.

“excuse me? work with?,” he jokingly scoffed, moving his hand to his chest with a fake hurt. he stumbled back a bit just to add to the dramaticness. but as soon as he heard her laugh, he was back in her window in no time—wishing he could hear that laugh forever.

her playlist was now shuffling quietly in the background of their conversation before he nodded toward the radio, “hey i like your music,” he smiled warmly.

“yeah? good. i’m glad because i have this weird condition where i must always be on aux,” she replied with a straight face before breaking with a small laugh at his face of confusion.

“ah funny girl,” he smirked, nodding his head slowly as he got the joke. “so does the door have a weird condition where it can’t open?,” he asked, lightly patting the space the open window made accessible to him.

“yeah. it’s called a lock,” she stated plainly, “you’re still a stranger, remember.”

“well…,” he drew out the word, moving his fingers gently along the interior window sill, “how am i supposed to not be a stranger if you won’t open the door?,” he smirked. there was a challenge behind his eyes, like he was daring her to make the next move.

“talking is usually a strong start, but if you insist… i suppose i can make an exception just this once,” she smiled, unlocking the door and pushing it out toward him. he stepped back instantly, waiting for her to finally get out of the car.

in hopes of incentivizing her to step out, he offered his hand—the one that was ungloved and not holding his carefully crafted helmet—with a smile.

“come on, pretty girl. let’s get to know each other, huh?,” she shook her head in a fake annoyance before taking his hand and letting him lead her out. he shut the door for her—like a gentleman—before she rested her back against the door. an expectant look on her face as if saying ‘you got what you wanted… what now?’

“alright, i can tell you’re a tough crowd, but don’t you worry, i’m here to please,” he grinned.

“and what is it you think will please me, stranger?,” her eyes narrowed. she was consistently challenging him, and he absolutely loved it. she’d probably never commented on one of his videos—maybe never even seen one. and she was perfect.

a devious smirk spread across his face, knowing the only way to get her attention would have to be in his natural habitat—on his turf, “have you ever taken a ride on a motorcycle before?”

© URCOOLGF.   est. 2025

TAGS .ᐟ @yktayy9669 @drewsswifeyy @drewrry @frankoceanluvr11 @dearestmillls @icaqttt @stoned-writer @angvl3tears @beabafreakbee @ltristessedureratoujours @totalswag @vanessa-rafesgirl @rafegetinmybed @browniepop62 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @littlelamy @pointocean @drewssgirl @dsfault @cokewithcameron @hittmeandtellmeyouremine @nightchanges777 @httpspercy @spideysimpossiblegirl @sturniszn

[dollforafe]

i think of you all when i listen to

[rafesbabybunny777]

[rafesbabybunny777]

I wanted him back with his insane version, bring him back to me now.

[calumsargwife]

oh totally

[pittsick]

okay i’m gonna say it: fandoms are kinda dying on tumblr, and they’re starving because nobody reblogs anymore.

like… i don’t wanna be that person but be for real?? likes are cute and all but they do nothing for creators. ZERO. NADA. a reblog is literally the oxygen mask keeping this blue hellsite alive. you say you “love” a fic, an edit, a gifset? then BABES… reblog it. boost it. let it breathe.

half the time creators are out here pouring their entire soul, spine, AND three vertebrae into something just for it to get 200 likes and 3 reblogs, two of which are their own. that’s why people stop posting. that’s why fandoms feel empty. content doesn’t magically fall from the sky — it comes from people who feel seen.

and i promise you: reblogging is free. it costs you like 0.2 seconds and suddenly you’re personally responsible for keeping a whole fandom alive. congrats!! so yeah. if you like something? reblog it. scream in the tags. yell. keyboard smash. put sparkles. do whatever. just don’t let creators feel like they’re shouting into a void.

reblogs feed creators. reblogs keep fandoms thriving. reblogs literally save lives (okay maybe not literally but u get it).

support the creators you love !!!!!! or else we’re all gonna be sitting in empty tags like clowns.