You Can Spam Boop Me!

Friendly reminder how to actually use band aids on fingertips because we see people doing it wrong all the time.

Painted my nails and played my 2010s playlist and my ego is back 😞

@brutetaro this lowkey gives ambrosia and anubis right?

MEEEEEEE

Miscesnowleo

a term for verses revolving around snow leopard-like behaviors/beings.

Taglist: @omegarchive , @miscearchival , @radiomogai

it doesn't matter that much... but please don't follow me if your blog is mostly vent or like.. glorification of unhealthy things and stuff. it's been happening a bunch and it makes me uncomfortable because this is a safe space for me :-3 thank you

☕️ ❛ omegadentity！ ⚣ oh-meh-ga-den-ti-tee

pt: omegadentity. oh-meh-ga-den-ti-tee. end pt.

︵︵﹒definition ｜ when one is an omega and it ties deeply into their identity as a whole.

pt: definition, when one is an omega and it ties deeply into their identity as a whole. end pt.

☕️ ❛ tags！ ⚣ @dovenesting @omegai @omegarchive @rabidbatboy

Idgaf who you are star fruit is the best fruit and it’s not just because it’s in the shape of a star. It’s so good and sweet and the tree produce so much which is amazing for me bc I’m obsessed with them

more of sun & y/n being each other's comfort blorbo ( ˘ ᵕ˘(˘ᵕ ˘ )

Pov: You're obsessed with your mute best friend and he finally realizes that there is no way to make you not love him.

The way my eyes lingered on his fingers wasn’t subtle—I didn’t care if he noticed. No one else had the right to see what I saw, to crave the way I craved. He flexed his hands under my unwavering gaze, his movements hesitant, as if my attention burned into his skin. Then, as if surrendering to the moment, he began to sign, slowly, deliberately, every motion agonizingly precise. It was a performance, and I was his only audience. The words were for me alone, crafted in gestures only I could truly understand.

"Everything I am is yours," he signed, his eyes locking onto mine, desperate, pleading. My breath hitched as his gaze searched my face for a reaction, for validation. But he didn’t need to search. Didn’t he see? Didn’t he know? He belonged to me. Not just his hands, but every inch of him—his heart, his mind, his very existence. If he didn’t understand that yet, I’d make him. I’d carve it into his soul if I had to.

Because no one else could have him. No one else deserved him.