“uhm The Ship Is Cannon 🤓☝️”

top three most romantic gifts of all time

break my arms around the one i love

poem: Shauna Barbosa GPS art: @mmelodyj / unknown / Ainslie Hogarth Motherthing / Keaton St. James HISTORY STUDENT FALLS IN LOVE WITH ASTRO PHYSICS STUDENT / @555w4 / unknown / Ada Limón The Good Fight / @sunsbleeding

its okay to be a stupid bitch with no career aspirations ... embrace it

If you're not careful, this can happen to you.

The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin / @lobotomybarbie / ? / @citrusflowers / fermentation night by Molly Cheang illustration & painting / 8th to 6th century BCE figurine of a woman baking, Akhzib / @3-ducks-in-a-trenchcoat​ / @moss-is-nice​ / ? / Everything Leads to You by Nina Lacour 

possible career paths going into 2025:

1. mysterious cult leader

2. reclusive artist who only paints in shades of gray

3. heiress who marries for scandal, not love

4. professional mourner (for versions of myself that never grew)

5. mythical figure seen only in blurry photos

6. long-lost twin showing up unannounced at family reunions

7. memory hoarder

your unreliable narrator fucking bit me

they were right btw. you have to dig yourself out of your grave over and over again

“I’m expecting great things from you”

bakugou katsuki feels like vulnerability is something stolen, a secret meant to be kept by tight lips and heartfelt promises.

the way he drags himself to your shared living space, the hero persona he so carefully crafted slowly melting away just as his gear is replaced with his human clothes, baggy to let him breathe; then he allows himself to be.

you see him shift, turn into his less polished and sharp around the edges self, lovely and unguarded as he busies himself with the comfort pans and pots. a low rant under his breath about some rookie sidekick that has him on his nerves; expert hands swiftly cutting vegetables into perfect bites and throwing them into a sizzling pan.

he sighs. heavily, with the weight of the safety of a whole city digging on his shoulders, surely thinking the sizzle could cover the exhaustion seeping through his bones.

something in your chest clenches, urging you to comfort him; to help him carry the weight of the burden that comes with his lifelong dream. sadly you aren't a hero, so instead you decide to reassure him with your little mundane ways.

with light steps you do your very best to sneak up on him and he lets you, pretending his cooking and ranting prevents him from hearing you approach but god knows he needs it.

bakugo needs the normalcy of your loving touch against his skin, tender hands sneaking around his waist and under his shirt, comforting and curious when they meet skin, looking for fresh injuries to fuss over; you rest your cheek on his back.

wanting him closer but allowing him to shield his face, giving him the grace to close his eyes and melt into your touch. "stop messing around, dumbass" but your hands keep moving, tracing the well worked crevices of his body just like an expert cartographer draws a shoreline none. he asks you to stop but his voice lacks the usual bite, more tired than annoyed you try to relieve some tension rubbing his muscles; first the waist and moving north.

bakugo feels your warm open palms resting on his chest, he genuinely hopes you don't feel his heart skip when you press a kiss on his spine but god he needed that.

because, as strong as his hero persona was bakugo katsuki was only human. one that hurts and breaks and struggles with asking for help to put back the pieces; luckily your love and compassion are just the right glue.