Genuinely being a single woman in my thirties, living alone, is such a mixed blessing sometimes. I do love my house and when I'm here I literally never want to leave. But on the other hand, I do get tired of leaving to go hang out with people, even though I love seeing them. Especially because I have such a great group of friends but they live all over the place, geographically, and therefore most of them don't know each other. And I actually really love hosting? But I never have people in my house because logistically it's always more practical for me to go to them than vice versa.
But sometimes I buy new old dishes and wanna just have a little fancy wizard party, but all my guests are far away. Please may I have the teleport spell. Or a high-speed commuter rail system.
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BG3 COMING OUT 27 28 DAYS EARLIER
11 races with 31 subraces & 12 classes with 46 subclasses...
lord have mercy
Karlach confirmed new origin character, & Halsin romanceable???
For more info: here!
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Merry Chrystler, if that's your thing!
From this post by @notpaulmescal lmao. Ty to @memosminifridge for the emoji typing on this heheueheue
Prints avail on Redbubble!
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(ID in alt and under cut)
ID: Full body of Nandor sitting in an upholstered wooden chair, wearing a red fur-lined tunic that is strangely reminiscent of santa claus. Sitting sideways across his lap is Guillermo, wearing tight green chinos and a black tee shirt over a white button down. Text on his shirt reads: "i don't need ✨Santa, i already 👏 SIT 👏 on a BEARDED MAN'S LAP 😜 and Get What I Want ❤️💅." Guillermo has one arm around Nandor's shoulders, the other pressing fingertips to his chest, and is leaning their heads together, smirking smugly at the viewer. Nandor has one arm around Guillermo's waist and the other awkwardly over his lap, cupping his elbow. He aims an uncertain smile at the viewer that is more of a panicked grimace, question marks floating around his head. /end ID
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you know what’s absolutely terrifying???? having to cut a baby’s nails………
Katsuki has to cut your baby’s fingernails when he discovers a tiny little scratch by her eye one morning. it’s barely there, a small thing, but it’s there, marring her little face nonetheless. he frowns at her when he holds her the next morning, her dreamy eyes alert and blinking up at him, she smiles.
“Now I gotta cut yer claws down,” he mutters to her, voice quiet as to not wake your sleeping form in the bedroom. he pads throughout the house with her chubby face resting on his shoulder, her gums gnawing at his bare skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.
he finds himself in a conundrum though, once he realizes just how fucking—how sharp the damn clippers are. they’re tiny, lavender in color, but they’re meant to cut though the nail with such precision. and yes, he’s a pro hero, has had to adopt the title of EMT, firefighter, emergency surgeon a few times in his life when need be.
but…those people weren’t his baby girl. they weren’t this tiny and precious, and they never looked up at him with a face so similar to his, it makes his heart squeeze tight in his chest. he frowns at her again, even deeper, and this makes her hiccup a little giggle, gummy smile spreading wide.
“You’re only gonna wear mittens from here on out,” he grumbles after a while, finally daring to pick up a tiny hand that she instantly curls around his thick finger. it’s the cutest image, he thinks to himself, but he catches sight of the jagged nail, the culprit. his heart squeezes even tighter though, when he realizes that he can’t protect her from every hurt in the world, even if the hurt comes from her own hands. and the realization is an aching one, but he tells himself that he, at least, can patch her up.
you walk in minutes later, find Bakugou curled over your daughter in the rocking chair he built for her room. his tongue pokes from the corner of his mouth in concentration, his eyebrows furrowed. your daughter babbles to him the whole time, her sweet voice cooing the softest little noises that he responds back to.
“I know, I know,” he mumbles to her. “Ya don’t like baths, and don’t like your nails cut, either. What other shit do you hate, huh?” he asks, and she seemingly responds with a long, sighed out coo. it makes him smile, despite the way his hands slightly shake when he cuts the next nail. he’s terrified, of somehow hurting her even more, of cutting too close, of scratching her. but he treks on, and kisses her fat little fingers every time he clips another nail.
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