Did i get this from IG? Yes. But I’m curious. If you’re down, shoot me a message or an ask. I wanna know how you’re doing. We can talk about it if you like.

Andulka
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

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occasionally subtle
hello vonnie
Peter Solarz
$LAYYYTER

Janaina Medeiros
Cosmic Funnies

shark vs the universe
YOU ARE THE REASON

JBB: An Artblog!
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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taylor price

titsay
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seen from T1
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@peaches007
Did i get this from IG? Yes. But I’m curious. If you’re down, shoot me a message or an ask. I wanna know how you’re doing. We can talk about it if you like.
i hate asking because i love the art of noticing
Sometimes the ship aint your taste but the freaks who create the art for it are so goddamn skilled that you end up liking it by proxy... and thats truly what fandom is about
I’m trying to get the boys I coach to stop saying “I’m gonna kms” after every little inconvenience (it’s my fault tbh) and last night my goalie missed an easy shot and screamed he’s gonna run away to Africa, become a National Geographic photographer and win the Wildlife Photographer of the Year award.
Turns out that’s actually what he wants to do. And I love that he replaced ending his life with his dreams for his future. Like yes, this inconvenience sucks but I will persist anyway.
"I used to chase butterflies as a kid, never thought you'd give them to me for free"
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff
You used to chase butterflies as a kid.
Not metaphorically, not in some poetic exaggerated way, but literally, like running barefoot across uneven grass, arms outstretched, laughing breathlessly as you tried to catch something soft and fleeting, something that always seemed just out of reach no matter how fast you ran or how carefully you crept up behind it. You never caught one, not really, just brushed the edges of wings once or twice before they slipped away again, light and untouchable, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of almost.
You hadn’t thought about that in years.
Not until him.
And then somehow—somehow—that was exactly what it felt like now.
Not the running part.
The almost part.
Because the first time you realized your chest felt tight, strange and fluttering and annoyingly persistent, was the first time Katsuki Bakugo snapped at someone across the training field, voice sharp and cutting, temper flaring like it always did, loud enough to turn heads and draw attention in that way only he could manage.
Everyone else had flinched.
You didn’t.
You just stood there, watching him, something unfamiliar settling in your chest, something that didn’t feel like fear or irritation or even annoyance, but something lighter, restless, like wings brushing against your ribs from the inside. Butterflies.
It was ridiculous.
You knew it was.
You were, by all reasonable standards, completely aware that Bakugo was difficult, and loud, and aggressive, stubborn to a fault, the kind of person most people learned to avoid rather than approach, but somehow that didn’t stop you.
If anything, it made it worse.
Because you liked it.
You liked the way he spoke like everything mattered. You liked the way he never held back, never softened himself for anyone, never pretended to be anything less than exactly what he was. You liked the sharp edges, the intensity, the way he carried himself like the world had something to prove to him.
You liked him.
Which was, admittedly, a problem.
Because crushing on Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t just inconvenient—it was borderline humiliating.
You kept thinking it.
Especially now.
Because of course, out of everyone in the dorm, it had to be him you ran into when you stepped outside for air, the night quiet and cool, the faint hum of the city in the distance while the rest of the building settled into that late-hour calm where most people had already gone to bed.
Bakugo was leaning against the railing, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere far off like he was thinking about something or maybe nothing at all.
You hesitated for half a second.
Then walked over anyway.
“You’re gonna catch a cold out here,” you said lightly, stopping beside him.
He didn’t even look at you.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay, tough guy.”
“Tch.”
You leaned your elbows against the railing too, staring out into the dark, letting the silence sit for a moment longer than necessary, it wasn’t awkward, it was just… quiet.
Comfortable, in its own strange way.
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.
And there it was again.
That feeling.
God, you were so annoying.
“I used to chase butterflies as a kid,” you said suddenly.
Bakugo didn’t react immediately.
Just blinked once, slow, like he was processing whether he actually heard that right.
“…What.”
You didn’t look at him.
“Never thought you’d give them to me for free.”
Silence.
Then—
“What the hell does that even mean.”
You smiled slightly to yourself, resting your chin against your hand.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not ‘nothing,’” he said, finally turning his head toward you, brows drawn together in that familiar annoyed expression. “You just said it like it means something.”
“It does.”
“Then explain it.”
“No.”
He stared at you.
You could feel it. The weight of it.
“…You’re messing with me.”
“Maybe.”
“Tch. You’re weird.”
You shrugged.
“Yeah.”
He turned back to the railing, but you caught the way his shoulders shifted slightly, like he wasn’t entirely dismissing it, like it stuck just enough to bother him.
Good.
You let the silence settle again, the night air brushing softly against your skin, and for a moment you thought maybe that was it, that you’d said your weird little line, he’d brushed it off like always, and things would go back to normal.
Crushing on someone like Bakugo wasn’t something you built expectations around, it was something you kept to yourself, something you let exist without needing it to turn into anything more.
But then—
“…Say it again.”
You blinked.
“What?”
“That thing,” he muttered, not looking at you this time. “About butterflies or whatever.”
You turned your head, studying him for a second, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at your lips.
“You want me to say it again?”
“I didn’t say I want you to,” he snapped quickly. “I said say it again.”
You hummed softly, pretending to think about it.
“I used to chase butterflies as a kid,” you repeated, a little slower this time, a little more deliberate. “Never thought you’d give them to me for free.”
Bakugo clicked his tongue under his breath, like the words annoyed him—but he didn’t interrupt this time.
Didn’t dismiss it right away either.
“…So what,” he said after a second, glancing at you again. “You’re saying I make you nervous or something?”
You tilted your head.
“Do I look nervous?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Then not that.”
“Then what.”
You hesitated.
Just for a second.
Because suddenly it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
“They’re… good butterflies,” you said quietly. “Not the bad kind.”
He went still.
Not in a way anyone else would notice.
But you did.
Because you were looking at him.
And for a second, just a second, he didn’t have a comeback ready.
Didn’t brush it off.
Didn’t snap.
He just looked at you.
Then—
“Tch.”
He looked away, jaw tightening slightly like he didn’t know what to do with that.
“…That’s stupid.”
You smiled.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
Then, quieter—
“…You’re still weird.”
“Yeah.”
He shifted slightly against the railing, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in a small, almost unconscious movement.
“…You say that every time you see me or what?”
You laughed softly.
“Only when it feels like that.”
“…And it feels like that a lot?”
You didn’t answer right away.
Just looked at him, the corner of your mouth lifting a little.
“…Maybe.”
Bakugo huffed under his breath, shaking his head slightly like you were hopeless.
“Idiot.”
But he didn’t walk away.
Didn’t even look as annoyed as he usually did.
If anything, he stayed right there beside you a little longer than he needed to.
And when you glanced at him again, just to check—He was already looking at you.
A pause.
Then, quieter—
“…But I get it.”
And somehow, that was enough.
🦋🦋🦋😩😩😩 omg...
hate how they forced bugs bunny into anti-weed propaganda in the 90s, as if bugs bunny wouldn’t love smoking weed
To be perfectly fair, bugs bunny would also love taking money for starring in anti-weed propaganda and then using said money to buy weed
bugs bunny is not real
bro just take my fucking job application without a cover letter. we're literally gonna be in a mega economic collapse, you're not gonna fucking read it anyways. do you really need some fucking fanfic about me working at your business?? what the fuck are we even doing right now??
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
Reblog to gain creative energy and to give more creative energy to the person you reblogged this from.
immediately after an interaction: i have GOT to get more normal oh god i need to get more normal immediately i have to get more normal or they're going to hunt me down they're going to hunt me down and flay me for sport
during an interaction: and why not put a little spin on it? why not add some conversational zest?
this too shall pass but the fuck was that for
Flash fiction attempt 1: plain text under cut
Wait wait wait!!! This makes so much sense! How interesting!
Back in the day, daisies had a particularly cute and overwhelming smell if you were around enough of them. It was like perfume for a five year old.
Thought i was imagining things...
the most important thing to know about the UK isnt the tea or the baked beans or whatever. its that mr brightside has been charting on the uk top 100 for 475 weeks, or about 9 years straight. sometimes it just randomly rises up to the top 40 for no reason. the grip that song has on our souls should be studied.
one time me and my coworkers were locked out of our storage building in the rain and we somehow ended up in an extremely passionate group rendition of mr brightside. like 30 people belting our hearts out, rain dripping down our faces. in my heart that is how this song should be ideally experienced tbh.
i thought this was exaggeration