#Can you tell I have no clue how tumblr works?

[theinconveniencing]

not to be dramatic but I literally feel like I’m going insane lol

[lusalemaart]

🥛🍔

[fandomfics]

Enemies to lovers

A Tumblr Made Me Do It fic

Pairing: Wolverine/ Logan Howlett x gn reader, Deadpool/Wade Wilson x gn reader (platonic?)

Description: Wade is determined to make a real life enemies to lovers fanfic between his roommate and you.

Masterlist

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Wade being God's perfect idiot, italics are 4th wall breaks, fluff, language, Implied smut, maybe some angst.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You sit in the laundry room in the basement of your building scrolling your phone when two men enter. One is gruff, a defeated look on his face ready to turn into a scowl at a moments notice, the other is talking circles around the guy .

"And that's why we're basically like Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. I bet Paradox would agree."

"You know, half the time I have no fucking clue what you're on about Wilson."

"Well Peanut, if you'd spend more time listening to what I have to say, maybe-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there bub, you know damn well that after 20 minutes of non stop talking, my brain tunes you out. Maybe it's brain death, maybe it's-"

"Maybelline!" The man you now know as Wilson sings

"No. You know what, you can do all the laundry yourself. I think you've drained my social battery completely, and it's 9am."

"I'm proud of you for emotionally regulating and telling me how you feel!" He turns to you pointing a thumb over his shoulder as the other man leaves, a serious look shading his pepperoni speckled features "He's a social outcast, but we're working on it."

You raise your eyebrows and nod to him with tightened lips.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of your underwear, extending them out to you, "Here, I found these in his room."

Your face turns to disgust just as the buzz of the timer on the dryer goes off. You don't make further eye contact as you grab your underwear and hastily gather your clothes.

"Bye!" He wiggles his fingers at you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A week later you're at a Superbowl party one of the other residents is hosting, you sit on the couch beer in hand as you laugh at the commercials. You feel the couch sink beside you when Peanut sits down, unable to hide your look of disgust you immediately vacate your spot to stand with a friend.

"Save me." You whisper keeping an eye on Peanut. "He's a fucking creep." His face turns to a scowl, he can't hear you right?

Your gaze shifts and you see Wilson on the other side of the room seemingly talking to a wall. You can't hear what he's saying, but he's very animated. What a weird god damn couple.

At some point in the evening you learn their names are actually Wade and Logan.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Operation enemies to lovers is on track, phase one is complete. Phase two: nurture the hatred."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Eight months pass and in this time there's an ever building tension. A scowl, an insult muttered under your breath, rumors. Incident after incident inspiring further hatred in one another manages to take place in this time.

It all finally comes to a head when Logan is walking up the stairs with Wade and his laundry in tow and you are on the way down with yours. His shoulder collides with yours, sending your dirty clothes tumbling down and scattering across the steps.

"What the fuck is your problem?" An exasperated scream streams from your mouth directly at the massive man.

"My problem? You're the fucking problem here!" His retort is sharp.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Phase two complete. All going according to plan, now to give them something they can bond over. Phase three is a go.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"No, it's me! Hi, I'm the problem, it's me! I have spent months getting you to hate each other!" He mimics the most stereotypical evil villain laugh as he holds his hands out, palms up with his fingers bent to resemble claws. "You guys literally did nothing to each other and now you have a common goal probably."

"Murder?" You and Logan say in unison.

You look to him before a cackle erupts from your throat, "Sorry, I can't do this anymore Logan" You turn and jump into his arms with a smile and plant a sloppy kiss on his lips.

"No. No, no, no. This isn't how it's supposed to go!" Wade yells, "It's supposed to be a slow burn, you have to build a relationship based on your new found commonalities. We need plot development, sexual tension! We need a Honda Odyssey!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I bet you're wondering how you got here... Well, me....I'll take you back to the beginning. After-

Whoa, hold on a god damn second buttercup. First you fuck up my fanfic, now you're breaking the fourth wall? Not gonna lie, I'm kinda pumped that someone else can talk to their audience, cause boy it it lonely, but this is my thing right n-

Do you ever fucking shut up? Do you wanna see the flashback or are you just gonna keep running your mouth? Don't test me, Logan and I are great at keeping secrets. You'd never know what happened.

Okay! Shit...proceed.

A few days after the Superbowl party Logan and I ran into each other.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You stand in line at the coffee shop just down the street, staring down at your phone when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. You turn and see Logan there, immediately turning back to avoid him, scooting forward to get further away from him.

"Hey," he taps you on the shoulder, "don't I know you from somewhere?"

"What? No!"

"Yeah!" He moves until he's in your sight again, "You're the one that thinks I'm creepy." His face is unreadable.

"Okay, yeah. It is creepy to steal someone's underwear though."

"Ah, I knew it- wait, what?"

"Wade found my underwear in your room. He gave em back to me. So maybe stop being a creep and leave me alone, thanks." You move forward as the line shifts.

"Whoa," he holds his hands up in surrender, "I didn't do anything, I swear! That idiot is probably up to something."

"Look, it's fine, leave me alone and I'll forget it ever happened. Really. Just don't steal my shit again."

"Next!"

You place your order trying to ignore Logan's closeness, when you've finished and are about to get your total Logan adds his order and hands over enough cash for both.

"Least I can do. I'm sorry about my friend."

. . .

The following day you are sitting on the fire escape, people watching, when you hear a familiar voice.

"It's called an enemies to lovers trope. The name really says it all. I just have to intervene here and there, give back stolen underwear and say they're from him, start some rumors. Get em to really hate each other. Then, I'll reveal my devious plot and they'll have no choice but to join forces and turn against me. Through the power of working towards a common goal over time they'll fall in love and I'll have the perfect fanfic."

"I thought you said we couldn't build a snowman you lying motherfucker. I'm outta here." You hear the other voice trail off in a string of curses.

You sit there dumbfounded, Logan wasn't lying. His idiot roommate was plotting...a fanfic?

. . .

The following week you are in the laundry room again and Logan appears, "oh, sorry. I'll come back later." He turns to leave.

"Wait!" He faces you again with a puzzled expression, "I heard Wade talking the other day from the fire escape. You were right. He's up to something." You relay the conversation and have to stop yourself from laughing as Logan's eyes roll so hard you think they might disappear into his skull.

"I have an idea though." The mischief is clear in your eyes, "I say we play along, then when the time comes, we ruin the end of the story. Do something totally different than what he's going for."

Logan smiles, something you haven't seen before, it's disarming how gorgeous it is. "Oh, that's perfect, he'll fucking hate that." He laughs and your stomach flutters a bit. Now that you're really seeing him, you want to get to know the real him.

"We should meet up often, make plans on how we're gonna do this." You say, hoping you're not too obvious.

"I know the perfect place."

. . .

The library is small, the only few tables occupied by studying youth. you and Logan find a spot in the deserted self help corner and sit on the floor across from one another, backs leaning up against the shelves.

"So," He whispers with a smile, "what's the plan?"

"We play along. He's obviously gonna try desperately to make us hate each other, so we go along with it."

The two of you whisper back and forth for a while about different ways you can pretend to hate each other and things you could do. After a time the conversation turns.

"You're pretty new to the building right?" His eyes meet yours across the isle.

"Yeah, I moved in last month. Not the worst so far." You shrug your shoulders and he chuckles.

"You from around here?"

"No, I needed a change of scenery. My friend lives in the building and told me about an opening. Took a chance to get away from my hometown. You?"

"No," a bit of pain briefly crosses his features, quick enough that you almost miss it. "Wade brought me here, gave me a home when I didn't really have one."

"Oh, I wouldn't have expected that..." You trail off.

"Yeah, he's a batshit crazy motor mouth, but he's a good friend. Mostly."

. . .

Every week you and Logan meet at the library, occupying the same spot across from each other, briefly go over plans before managing to drift to other conversations. Sometimes it's random stories from your pasts, other times it's deeper, sometimes it's just talking about your week. You grow closer, building a friendship in this time.

"Come watch this!" You say as you hold your phone in front of you. He scoots to sit next to you, his hand brushing yours as you hand him an ear bud. He leans into you slightly as you watch a video of Deadpool Fails. He's revealed his and Wades abilities long before this and you know he'll love watching the man fail over and over.

He tries his best to keep quiet, but one clip in particular causes a snort laugh to erupt from him and you quickly slap your hand over his mouth as you giggle yourself.

"You're gonna get us kicked out!" He continues to laugh, his face going red, it's infectious and you're sent into a fit of laughter until you're grabbing your stomach.

A shadow suddenly eclipses the two of you and when your eyes raise to see the librarian, you quiet immediately. A slap to Logan's arm jolts him out of his laughter and he finally looks up to the stern woman

"Sorry." You mumble with a look of shame.

"Don't let it happen again." For some reason this sends you into another fit of laughter and Logan follows suit. You're kicked out of the library and find yourselves sitting on a bench until the laughter dies down.

"Sorry sweetheart. Guess we'll have to find a new place to meet." He says with a chuckle. Your heart leaps a bit at the nickname, you've certainly developed a crush on him over the last five months since this all started, but you've done your best to keep it in check.

Blush rises in your cheeks and you look away, "Guess so. I uh...gotta get home, text me if you can think of another place!" You give a quick smile without meeting his eyes before you rush away.

. . .

Logan: found a place, I'll send the address, 7pm tomorrow. Wear something nice.

Me: What? Why?

Logan: Trust me, it's a place he'd never go near. It's ducking perfect.

Logan: ducking

Logan: DUCKING

Logan: Damn it. F U C K I N G.

Me: 😂

. . .

You take your time getting yourself ready, you look damn good and you know it. You arrive at the address and find a cozy restaurant, Somewhere between a diner and fine dining. Candles on every table, soft lighting, wine being poured, definitely not what you expected from Logan. As you scan the place you see him, he stands and smiles with a shy wave.

You've never seen him dressed like this, slacks, white buttondown with the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, top two buttons undone. You pause for a moment until you realize you're staring and move towards him sheepishly.

"You look amazing." He says with a soft smile and a gentle kiss on your cheek.

"You look awfully handsome yourself."

He pulls your chair out for you and as soon as you sit he starts to speak. "I hope this is okay. If it's too weird we can find somewhere else-"

"No, this is nice. Is this..." You trail off trying to find a tactful way to figure out what's going on here. "Is this a date?"

His eyes widen and his cheeks flush, "Well, I...uh," he rubs the back of his neck. "I just thought you deserved something nice. Do you... want it to be a date?"

You waver a bit, unsure what will happen if you answer truthfully, so you take caution with your approach, "I wouldn't mind if it was, but only if that's what you want."

He smiles brightly, "Yeah Sweetheart, that's what I want."

The conversation flows freely as it always does with him, you don't talk about Wade or his crazy shit, you don't talk about your plans, you just talk about your own lives. The conversation is deeper than those you've had before, you're getting to know each other on a more intimate level, opening up. Before you know it the restaurant is empty with the exception of the wait staff.

"I don't want this to end," you say unintentionally quiet in your confession, "not yet."

He cups your face in his hand and brushes his thumb over your cheek, searching your eyes. "It doesn't have to."

. . .

A bench on a rooftop overlooking the nighttime city skyline beckons you as you emerge from the stairwell. You sit close to Logan deep in thought, watching the city pass beneath you. A chill runs down your spine and he opens his arms up, offering his warmth. You lean into his side deeply inhaling his musky scent as he rests his arm over your shoulder.

"Whacha thinking about?" He breaks the comfortable silence.

"Just how nice this is," you reply looking up into his eyes from where your head rests on his shoulder, "thank you."

He gives you a warm smile, "Of course." He rests his head against yours and squeezes you a bit tighter.

. . .

The next day a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a box of your favorite candy is delivered to your apartment, your heart leaps as you read the note, "Thinking of you -Logan"

You swoon like the main character of a romcom walking on cloud nine after a wonderful interaction with their love interest.

. . .

Logan: Wade's away this week on a mission... Can I come see you?

Me: I would like that 😊

. . .

The text had come a few days later and you were overjoyed at the prospect of spending time with him without having to sneak around. A knock on the door brought you out of your daydream and you rush to open it, smiling widely.

"Come in," you gesture for him to enter, "would you like something to drink?"

"Actually," he pulls a bag from behind his back, "I brought us drinks, candy, and popcorn. I thought we could have a movie night."

"Yes! There's a new movie on Netflix I've been dying to watch!" You take him to the kitchen and prepare the popcorn and cups of ice before sitting on the couch and starting the movie.

When you sit a little further away than he'd like he wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer, "This okay?"

All you can manage is a nod as you snuggle into him.

You wake up with your head in his lap, he's gently stroking your hair, the screen of the TV is black, and he's scrolling through his phone.

"Hey sleepyhead." He says gently smiling down at you as he puts his phone down.

"Fuck. I missed the whole movie didn't I? I'm sorry..."

"Hey, don't worry about it... and I turned it off as soon as you fell asleep."

"How are you so fucking thoughtful and considerate?" You blurt out as you sit up.

"It's easy with you. I just...want you to be happy, always."

You stare into his eyes, the air between you crackles with the electricity of your desire. He pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms tightly around you, still keeping your gaze.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod and close the distance, a tender kiss that sends waves of butterflies through you, you want to stay here forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, desperately keeping him close as though he might disappear completely if you aren't there to anchor him.

When you finally pull away he cups your face in his, "Wade is an absolute idiot, but he has made me a better man. A man who would do anything to protect the people he loves. I'm lucky to add you to that list."

"You...?"

"Yeah sweetheart, I love you." He smiles softly, "you don't have to say it back, I just wanted-"

"I love you too." You press your lips to his again, he deepens the kiss and before either of you know it you're in a frenzy. You stand and grab his hand leading him to the bedroom.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And fade to black.

WAIT, you can't just stop before you get to the juicy stuff. You ruined my fanfic! I spent eight months on this, I demand porn with a plot! This is Tumblr, the people are gonna demand a part two at least, and when the writer inevitably gives the people what they want, I'll be there!

You haven't heard the last of user xXxBigDaddyDeadpoolxXx!

[astrologysaysno]

I saw this Tumblr post floating about on the world wide web and decided, "Hey, let's turn that into a Moshang AU"

Mobei is the heir of Northern Goods, a family-owned multimillion dollar company whose main stream of revenue is the sale and transfer of produce and other goods all across China. As Vice-President, he is the successor to his father, who is planning to step down within the decade or so and retire.

Mobei is a hands-on boss, actively participating in the process of harvesting and preparing to ship these products around the country and internationally, a family tradition to be as involved as possible in the process as to not forget their roots as humble farmers who resided in the desert.

That's all fine and dandy, it's why the turnover rate is so low in his company, their boss is competent in this field.

What Mobei isn't competent about is the more beaureaucratic type of business.

He has no real clue about how things such as accounting and the logistics that ensure that transportation and sale goes smoothly happen. Mobei isn't the business-suit on Wall Street type, he prefers to let his products and their quality speak for themselves.

So he hires a manager from the city to deal with it instead.

Shang Qinghua, a man who lives in the city since he was a child, gets hired by Mobei to as the Logistics Manager of Northern Goods. He snatches up the offer even if it means having to relocate to the countryside.

Plot follows, they fall in love, all that good tea.

Mobei is enamoured by this tiny (Shang Qinghua is not THAT short, Mobei is just very tall and well-built) little man that has somehow paved a way for Northern Goods to be stronger than ever.

Shang Qinghua is in love with his ever friendlier boss that actually understands the hardship and struggle of working out in the field as a farmhand, doing his best to ensure a better and more efficient environment for both the company and their workers.

Shang Qinghua one day decides to try his hand at this whole farming thing now that Mobei and him are closer, but Mobei refuses.

Shang Qinghua is a city man with a city boy constitution. He fears that such strenuous activity may actively kill the poor guy. SQH has worked at a desk and ONLY at a desk for his entire employment, filing taxes and filling forms for the company. Mobei would much rather have his man safe in the shade (hopefully entranced by his figure as he works) rather than having him sweat a river and dying of a stroke while gathering crops.

Shang Qinghua convinces Mobei to let him try anyways, stating he wanted to experience what Mobei experiences.

(If Mobei agrees and both of them use it as an excuse to spend more time with each other, that remains unsaid.)

What Mobei concludes that day is that Shang Qinghua is that the man has no upper body strength at all, but invested it all in his legs. When I tell you this man can run like the wind. Shang Qinghua would put a trackstar to shame.

After having to constantly run from one side of factories and fields to the other in order to stop someone from doing something dumb so many times, he's built up the cardio for extremely long distances without breaking too much of a sweat. He will need some melon seeds and a long nap afterwards, though.

(And if Mobei thinks about his legs every once in a while, he doesn't say a word.)

[zombiigrll]

JUST FRIENDS, RIGHT? ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 998 ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ fluff, friends to lovers, use of y/n, reader is maggies sister, just cute wholesome moments<3 .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you all SO MUCH for the love on lonely OH MY GODDD i was not expecting that much traction for my first story! it was literally my first ever tumblr post ever too thats insane o_O i literally have like 0 idea how tumblr works it took me forever to write lonely because i had NO CLUE WHAT I WAS DOINGG if you have any tips let me know im so desperate anyways thank you all so much for the support it means sososo much!! <333 ───────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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you and carl had been best friends since the farm. after carl and his group arrived, the two of you had been just.. drawn to each other. you were there for him after he was shot in the side, despite not knowing him. ever since then, the two of you were inseparable. years had passed and you guys were now living in alexandria. after being in that safe space and finally feeling secure, you had more time to tend to your thoughts. one of those thoughts being the new feeling you were getting in your abdomen whenever you were around carl. he could be doing anything, smiling, laughing, whatever. it just made you feel something you had never felt before. something you couldn't describe. but that was challenged shortly after you guys settled into alexandria and carl had told you he had a crush on enid. "hey, can i tell you something?" carl asked, setting down his comic book and looking over at you. you looked up from your own comic and into his baby blue eyes. "yeah, 'course. what's up?" "i... i think i like enid." your heart dropped at his words. "oh." you softly responded, trying to hide how upset you were with a smile. "that's... nice." god, you wanted to explode right there. but you had to be supportive for your best friend, even if you had... some sort of feelings for him. ever since then, you tried your best to pretend you didn't like him. he never got with enid due to ron and her being together, but you didn't want to ruin his moment. you wanted to be there for him. you ignored the tightening feeling in your chest whenever he smiled at you and eventually, you were so caught up in this lie that part of you believed you were over him. sure, you still got those butterflies in your stomach whenever he hugged you, but it couldn't be love anymore, right? well, you were wrong. all of those feelings of love were confirmed after ron had shot him in the eye, which made you realize you couldn't lose him. he came so close to death, and you knew you couldn't live without him. you stayed with him throughout his recovery, and despite him being insecure, he let you stay. i mean, the two of you had been in this situation before back at the farm. you had to be there for him. after a while, carl had recovered, now rocking an eyepatch across his right eye and being able to function properly again through his physical therapy. and you were there with him throughout the entire thing. after carls recovery, the two of you had found an area in the woods for the two of you to have quiet alone time. as friends. just friends, right? today, you couldn't focus. you were so overwhelmed by the knot in your stomach as you watched him read his comics. your eyes went from his hat to his icy blue eye, then his hands, then back into his eye, which was now looking back at you. "are you okay?" he asked, causing you to come back to your senses.

"i.. yeah. i'm good." you awkwardly looked away.

"are you sure? you were staring at me." carl chuckles, setting down his comic book next to him and sitting up to look back at you properly.

"i'm good. perfect, even." you reassured him, but the blush on your face said otherwise.

carl moves closer to you, sitting right in front of you. now, your guys' faces are inches apart from each other.

"you know you can tell me anything, right?" carl softly speaks, smiling down at you as you move your hands up to covered your tomato-like face. he moves his hands up to yours and moves your hands off of your face.

"why're you so nervous?" he rubbed his thumb over your hands as he waited for your answer. you cleared your throat and averted your eyes, which caused him to bring a hand up to your chin and move your face back towards him.

your faces had the slightest gap between each other.

he smirked down at you before closing the gap between you two, kissing you softly.

you were caught off guard, more surprised than ever. your stomach was doing flips as you leaned into the kiss, but after a bit, you moved away.

"wait, but..." your facial expression changed to confused as you processed everything. "you said you liked enid."

"wh.. oh." he averted his eyes. "...would you be mad if i told you i just kinda.. said that to say it?"

"are you serious?!" you yelled. you weren't really angry, and it was apparent in your voice. "theres no way. no. you told me you liked her so confidently. you only didn't get together because of ron, but ron's.. y'know."

"y/n." carl put one of his hands on your shoulder. "i said it because i knew you liked me. and.. i didn't want you to."

"what?"

"i don't like enid. i like you. i was just... i was just nervous that i'd hurt you somehow." he explained.

"i think it hurt more hearing you liked another girl than anything else." you scoffed with a smile.

"i meant, i didn't want to be a jerk or something. i've never dated anyone before, i didn't know what i was doing. i mean, i still don't know what i'm doing, but..."

you cut him off with another quick kiss, moving your hand up to his jawline. you pull away shortly after, smirking at his dumbfounded facial expression and reddened face.

"...did you kiss me just to make me shut up?" he rose his eyebrow with a laugh.

"ha, no..." you rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a tight hug, which he returned shortly after.

he rested his head in the crook of your neck. "i'm glad we don't have to pretend anymore."

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[naturecalls111]

CYOA: Zoro's Guide To Romance [ZOSAN]

PART 1

I wanted to try out a Choose Your Own Adventure fic, as some of my favourite fics have followed this sort of format, and it helps me write with lower-stakes in this short, Tumblr post format :) I will create a master post for this once I have enough parts to collate.

The simple premise is that Zoro attempts to be more romantic with Sanji – whatever that means, by whatever means.

~~~

Zoro’s still trying to get used to it.

It’s hard not to react so violently, at first. Touches and verbiage that are inclined to be antagonistic. Mean. And with Sanji, that sort of instinct comes naturally. Shout, so he can shout back; bite, so he can bite back, and so forth. They’re used to that. It’s what suits them. The only thing they’ve really ever known to expect from each other.

But at some point – and Zoro has no clue when this point came and permeated so seamlessly through the iron walls the both of them had put up – the shouts fizzled into low, private groans, and the biting became intentional – literal – and now they’re here. Zoro taking a nap on the deck, and Sanji waking him up by tapping at his thigh with the sharp toe of his shoe instead of blatantly kicking at him as if he were a—forget it, no comparison needed. Instead of kicking at him as if he were Zoro as he is, in the flesh.

Sanji’s nonchalant. Hands in his pockets and voice in a low mutter when he speaks.

“Come help me put the groceries away.”

“I already did,” Zoro clears his throat, blinking away his bleary vision and focusing them on Sanji. “Did it this morning, remember?”

“I meant arranging them into the pantry,” Sanji says with little inflection, and almost as an afterthought, “And the cupboards. It’s busy work, so come on. Don’t be lazy.”

Zoro’s eyebrows furrow, confused. Sanji had always been vocal about Zoro doing the opposite: staying away from the kitchen, not spreading his germs on the consumables, preventing his ‘unwashed reek’ from overwhelming the room. The usuals. Eye-roll worthy insults that Zoro isn’t even instigated by anymore.

“Why? I don’t know where shit goes. It’s your kitchen.”

It’s almost impressive how quickly Sanji’s expression morphs into something impatient, the cigarette in his mouth bobbing up and down as he grinds his jaw and narrows his eyes, reproaching.

“Whatever,” he huffs, and drops his cigarette before clicking his tongue, turning away. “Don’t help, then.”

No, wait, come back—ah, well. Sanji’s already too far to reach, so Zoro resigns to closing his eyes again, arms crossed in the perfect nap position and prepared to fall into a comfortable sleep once more. And when he wakes up, Sanji will have likely already prepared second lunch, or first dinner. Zoro smiles at the thought. His favourite things, food, booze, and Sanji, all in one place.

And if Sanji’s up for it, after eating he might even be able to sneak in his other favourite thing. Fighting. And then oral sex. In no particular order.

“You know, Zoro,” Robin’s voice chimes softly, and Zoro cracks an eye open in her direction. She’s tanning on the sunlounger, completely at ease. “Sanji’s romanticism isn’t always so performative.”

Whatever that means. As if Zoro doesn’t know who he’s dating.

“Yeah, I know, thanks.” He closes his eyes and shuffles, letting the conversation rest.

“Are you sure?”

Zoro’s head whips towards Robin. “What? Yeah, ‘course I know,” he says. “We’re together. Obviously, I know. Who do you think bears the brunt of every time he goes gaga over some random girl? Over you and Nami.”

“Going gaga and anticipating sentiment from a partner are two separate things,” Robin says. There’s something implicit in her tone, despite her physical indifference. It puts Zoro on the defensive; none of this is Robin’s business, really. Him and Sanji are fine the way they are.

“Right,” Zoro snorts, hoping he comes across offhanded. “Guess you can go and tell him that, then.”

There’s a moment of silence, peaceful silence that Zoro can finally close his eyes to, before Robin decides to speak again.

“I think he already knows.”

Pfft. Yeah. 

Whatever.

~~~

(Happy to consider things in tags/replies if it seems people (or me, lol) take a liking to the suggestion!)

[meatballlady]

It's time for the fandom to start Looking Where the Furniture Isn't

For a bit of background, one of my irl professional responsibilities is to identify and avoid making undue assumptions. There are a LOT of things that we humans assume. We assume that terminology means the same to other people as it does to us. We assume everyone has the same context of a situation we do. We assume that we aren't missing any information.

We operate on the information we have.

There was an ask before season 2 aired asking whether many of the plot points had been revealed by the clips (which almost all took place during the first half of the first episode). Neil's response was something like "oh you sweet summer children you know nothing yet." And boy was he right.

Neil Gaiman is a master of controlling assumptions. Just look at his Tumblr askbox replies.

Here's a few s2 examples of assumptions we all made (as I'm starting a rewatch):

Why did Crowley do the (very fun and distracting) apology dance? You might say it was because he walked out on Jim, but he never specified, did he? And Aziraphale was surprised that he proposed they would hide him "together"

How did Shax get a rumor about something going down in the Up (presumably) before Gabriel even went downstairs?

Did Jim need to bring Aziraphale something other than the box? He never actually specifies; Aziraphale just assumes it's the box.

Why did Aziraphale assume Maggie could feel [Michael, Uriel, Saraquael] arriving?

Why does Aziraphale say Heaven would notice even a small miracle? Crowley is seen doing a miracle before their large miracle (traffic light), and later Aziraphale makes the guy leave the table at the pub

To go deeper:

Are we assuming that characters are telling the truth? Example: "Miracles don't work like that," "[Extreme sanctions] was just something we said to frighten the cherubs" etc.

Are we assuming that nothing of note happened between apocalypse v1 and s2? (ex. the claims that Crowley didn't tell Aziraphale about the trial in heaven despite him referencing it in s2s1) What if we the audience are just jumping in near the end of this story?

Are these assumptions correct? Or are we just working with the information that we have?

Now that I'm looking for it, there's also SO many corrections of assumptions (usually for the sake of a joke, but still) (these are just the ones that happen while I type them out while watching e2):

"Can I be a blue one?" "You haven't annoyed me yet" "But can I be?"

"You recognized [Michael, Uriel, Saraquael] those people who were in the shop just now?" "Of course, they were in the shop, just now!"

"oh my god!" "blasphemy, angel, that's not like you", "no, oh, my god"

Many of the themes were about hiding things in plain sight: the kids (and kids), Jim, "aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear." Clue (1985) was heavily referenced in the lead-up. The whole point of that film was looking at what was going on elsewhere. Looking where the furniture isn't, you might say.

The more I watch s2, the less certain I am that any of it makes sense on its own.

I'm currently combing through it to see if there are any discrepancies with where people are (easiest example is when Crowley just disappears from the bookshop while they're reviewing the Job story). It'll be a lot of data and might not lead anywhere, but I'll definitely share once I finish looking into it.

I will also honestly admit that these things are all circumstantial, and I could be going insane. But they just keep cropping up all over the place. I've got a lot of time before S3 comes up and I intend to investigate the furniture. And try to not make assumptions.

[bridgertonandchocolate]

I’ve stayed quiet with most things Lukola mainly because I’ve just been so busy and haven’t had much time for Tumblr blogging.

Here’s my overall thoughts and in not any particular order because they’re all jumbled anyway.

1. I don’t think N and L have ever been “together”. I’ve seen a few people say they think they dated at some point during filming but I don’t think they would have. Should they? Yeah. Will they? I’m so so hopeful. But if there are feelings (which I do believe there were during filming and are currently) I think they would choose to not be together because of working together and their friendship because that shit gets messy if it goes sour.

2. All of the little nuggets N left is throughout this weekend were INSANE and absolutely UNHINGED. I’ve heard some things that there was maybe a bridgerton table read but I have no evidence that happened. I have a hard time believing they’re not about L because who else would it really be about. I know N is really private but I feel like we’d have some other clues if it was someone else.

3. I do believe L and A are over. If they even began. That whole thing. I don’t want to speculate over any of it really so I’ll just go off my impression from the images I’ve seen. All pictures I’ve seen A has looked really wanting to cling and making it seem forceful whereas L has always looked miserable. The pap pictures. The GQ pictures. The vacation pictures. All of it she’s there smiling and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. L has also never posted about her or made any claim that they were an official couple. So I’m assuming there wasn’t ever any labels put on it by the two of them but what do I know. It seemed like Italy sent something off the rails and I think things ended.

4. The only thing that has me hesitant about all of N’s recent posts being about L is that it’s so soon after Italy went down. I’m not a relationship guru but if I were N I’d be putting on the brakes and not diving headfirst but if I also finally realized I loved this guy I don’t know maybe I’d be that unhinged too. The timeframe is the only thing that’s keeping me from being like yeah it’s absolutely 100% about L.

5. I’m really interested to see what happens the more we get closer to season 4. I think N will feed us some selfies from set but just like for season 3 there will be a drought. And with all of the negativity thrown at L I don’t think they’d put themselves into a media frenzy if they go public.

6. I’ve seen a lot of people hating on Lukola fans because they think we’re delusional and I say who cares lol. You cannot watch all of the promo they did for season 3 and honestly think that’s just a platonic friendship. If anyone has ever had feelings for a really good friend you’ll know how it comes across. I’ve never seen promo like that EVER. For me it’s fun to think of them ending up together because I’m a romantic at heart. You can tell they love each other whether it’s just friendly or not. I do try to not speculate but I can’t help but do it and I usually don’t ship actors. I love them individually and I would love them as a couple but I also love if it’s just friendship too.

Feel free to send asks. I love talking Lukola lol

[snapscube]

Remember when people were calling you the "long lost McElroy sister"? Do you see the similarity at all, or do you think it's just because you share a similar creative niche (gaming/streaming/comedy) with the McElroy brothers?

Lol, "when" people were doing it.

I still get it to this day, friend, despite my constant protests.

I used to understand, and it was even expected initially if not personally encouraged! There was definitely a period of time where they were my biggest comedic/creative inspirations, and the truth of the matter is that I am a mannerisms sponge. I mimic people around me, and people that inspire me, and whether or not it's more than the average person I have no clue, but I will go through seasons of daily watching a particular personality or creator I'm fond of and/or inspired by and usually come out the other end having picked up certain tendencies VERY quickly, a large portion of those being speech patterns.

There's definitely a segment of my content around 2017/2018 or so where, yeah, you can very much tell I adopted a McElroy-esque speaking pattern directly (like what felt like 70% of other Tumblr users also did lol) and it was both because of how much of their content I was into at the time AND also because at the time I found their output inspiring as someone who was used to more... Loud Gamer forms of comedy, to put it bluntly. So at first I took the comparisons in stride and saw it as a signal of my own growth as an entertainer, and my ability to be funny in a way that wasn't just Loud = Funny.

But the thing you have to know about me, and my time as even a minor public figure, is that this comparison was not the first of its that was constantly levied at me, and it unfortunately was not the last one in the slightest. Some will remember the days in which I was a reasonably renowned "Bill Cipher" impersonator in the Gravity Falls fandom, and the pattern was very similar at the time. I dealt with people CONSTANTLY telling me that, despite all of my attempts to separate myself from the voice work I did as the character, I always sounded Just Like Bill even when I was just using my casual speaking voice. If this sounds familiar to those of you who have only been around since the dubs popped off, it's likely because I also go through the same thing ever since I became known for Sonic impressions.

And then outside of voice work I've had my style of content continue to be compared to the McElroy's body of work and even beyond to the likes of Jerma and other big-name-of-the-era content creators. And I have to once again stress: I am completely self-aware that it is not entirely unfounded. I mean, the most recent one I got was just the other day when on stream someone told me I had a speech pattern similar to Northernlion. And like, I even admitted right then and there.... yeah! That makes sense! I've had NL compilations going into my ears and brain for hours upon hours on end lately. So I don't mean to only complain and say "this makes no sense" with delusions that it's completely baseless. BUT, I guess if I do have to circle around to a point, it would be that, though I can occasionally understand comparisons, I would hope y'all in turn can understand why it might not be an easy thing for someone like me to hear, especially in the way it never really seems to go away? Even if one like Bill Cipher fades out, the whole "SnapCube is just a female version of [insert larger male peer in the content space]" thing is something that cycles along regardless. And I get it, it's human nature to compare and contrast. I do it too! But as someone who is always trying to stand out in what I do and make my own value as an individual known above the cacophony of content saturation, I do implore people to think twice about the language they use when making otherwise favorable comparisons. Recommending my content by saying something like "if you like Jerma/McElroys/NL/etc., then SnapCube gives off similar vibes" makes of a WORLD of a difference compared to "This stream is just something Jerma would do" or "Penny is just a female Griffin McElroy" (both things I have heard almost verbatim, constantly). They approach the same ideas, but one gives me so much more of a chance to like... start off a first impression as My Own Person and not just a derivative Girl Alternative, if that makes sense.

Whoops I talked about this way too much :) Can you tell I think about this a lot LMAO

Anyway here's the obligatory joke response that's been spread before

[xaldalneir]

Spoilers for Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Episode 12

Hi Tumblr! So, I’m breaking, like, a FIVE YEAR bout of silence and shit, but I can’t just sit quiet about this one. Witch from Mercury has been one of the best Gundam Series I’ve had the pleasure of watching. Today, the last episode of this cour ended on a heavy note. Now the majority of takes that I’ve seen have been saying that Suletta was either totally cavalier in what she did to Nameless Grunt Number 5 or that Prospera activated her somehow with her typical ‘move forward, gain two’ line. So, mainly to fight the opinion that Suletta is now just suddenly a murderous psychopath, I’d like to point out a few things. I’ll be laying out evidence from the series, from the Prologue story, Cradle Planet, and my own observations. So, first and foremost, Suletta has shown to act very impulsively whenever Miorine is in any sort of danger (slapping Guel in episode 1, her confrontation with Shaddiq in episode 9). She trusts Miorine implicitly and after last episode, after having been separated from her after a really tender moment, she’s undoubtedly panicking about whether or not she’s okay. Even Prospera can see that, because she makes sure to namedrop Miorine when she tells Suletta that if she gets in Aerial she can save everyone.  The GUND-bits told her that the transport and Earth House is safe. She activates what I assume is Permet Score 6 (same tetrahedron shield as ep. 9, along with Prospera telling Delling in ep. 11 that that’s as high as Aerial’s PS went during the Grassley duel), and is able to locate Miorine. I find it hard to believe that she didn’t also see Delling and Nameless Grunt Number 5 (because I’m guessing that the bits identified them via their personal Permet ID). She came into that room hard and fast, and Aerial immediately adopted a combat stance. That wasn’t the entrance of someone who knew the danger was over and was going to enter through a proper airlock or hanger. Then, of course, we get to the slap. I’ve seen people talk about how she could’ve just blocked or captured Nameless Grunt Number 5, but he had just overcome his shock at Aerial’s arrival and leveled his gun to finish Miorine and Delling. He was about to kill them. Suletta didn’t have time to think ‘Oh I can solve this nonviolently’. With everything we’ve seen from her so far, I’d be shocked if her first and only thought, and the one that she and Aerial acted on, wasn’t ‘Miorine is in danger I need to stop him’. Then, she gets out of Aerial. There’s blood everywhere, she trips and falls. Suletta, who we’ve never seen properly navigate any kind of social interaction ever. Suletta, who just minutes ago was in shock, nearly shut down over her mother having killed Nameless Grunts 1-4. Suletta, who just watched Nameless Grunt Number 5 try to kill Miorine, does not have the emotional capacity to deal with all of this. So she does what she’s had working for her so far with Earth House. She plays it off as clumsy, as silly. Suletta Forgetta indeed. A brief side bar on those who think the motto ‘run, lose one, move forward, gain two’ is some kind of trigger phrase, the Prequel story Cradle Planet shows us that Suletta has been using that since the age of nine to get over things she’s afraid of. She comes to Aerial one night because the elders at the Mercury colony don’t respect or trust her. She’s in tears. She climbs into Aerial’s cockpit, and she repeats that phrase until she’s brave enough to face the world again. Flash forward, she’s 17 now (last age given in the story was 15, but with context clues we can assume this next part is right before ep. 1). Prospera’s putting her plan into action, Miorine is being married off to whoever claims the title of Holder at Asticassia. Suletta comes to Aerial again. She tells her about what’s happening (Aerial knows already, Prospera told her the night before. Aerial doesn’t want Suletta to go, doesn’t want her to be used for revenge). She starts to panic, she’s anxious. Then she tells herself, ‘If you run, gain one. Move forward, gain two. Right, Aerial?’. She uses the words to propel herself forward once again. Just as she has done before, and just as we see her do so many times throughout the series. Suletta is clearly coded as neurodivergent. Whyever that is and whatever she’s specifically coded to be, I’m not going to speculate on, but she doesn’t understand social graces. She doesn’t always know the right way to respond. She defaults to a lot of reactions (hiding, playing it off) because those are what have worked for her. She’s not some manic psychopath suddenly and gleefully happy to kill, and she’s not the Winter Soldier waiting to be activated (that might be Aerial, if the red eye stickers in the Gunpla kit are any indication). She’s just doing her best. And that’s not always going to be the right thing to do, as we saw. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

[floydstruly]

how you mince my heart.

synopsis : two house wardens vie for your affection send their people after you when you escape their grasp, first one that captures you wins.

cw. not proof read, mild depictions of violence, non explicit obsession (?), yandere themes (???) idk how to tag its my first time posting on tumblr (did this for funsies, no idea how anything works)

pairing: gn! reader x vil schoenheit, slightly azul (floyd, jade and rook too if you really squint)

He takes a deep, sharp breath in–his chest rising and falling quietly as he drums his fingers along the edge of the wooden chess board. He waits, and waits, and waits for Vil to make a move. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Vil stares at him through his uncharacteristically uneven bangs, his hairs out of place and his make up a mess, yet still, he manages to be beautiful. The soft dark circles under his eyes reminisce a night of challenged sleep.

Vil sighs, turning his head away from his opponent and mindlessly pushes a rook forward three spaces onto a board–consuming his knight. It takes Azul by surprise to see him so distracted–well, of course he was, he hasn’t been the same since you left him. Azul lets out a snide, mocking chuckle and sits back in his seat, it creaks from the shift of weight.

“You seem stressed.” He remarks offhandedly as he takes his knight off the board, he’s down to one. He glances around the room, it’s oddly quiet in the Monstro Lounge without Floyd and Jade, he only hopes that they are capable of carrying out his wishes.

Vil shakes his head. The door to the VIP room swings open with a harsh thud, Floyd saunters into the room and drapes himself over Azul’s shoulders. He whispers something in his ear that causes Azul to tense up, odd. Azul’s opposition raises an eyebrow and uncrosses his legs–as if trying to listen into their not-so private conversation.

“Ahh~ betta, what’re you doing here?” Floyd drawls out lazily and smiles, how incredibly eerie–Vil pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, glancing back between the knight he eliminated earlier and back at the merman.

“Playing a game.” He answers simply, urging Azul to make his next move with the snap of his wrist, “I would hope I win.” He adds, there's a hint of growing pride in his voice.

He will not lose.

It’s cold.

The sun is setting and you are tired beyond belief, your lungs feel as if they are being burned, your clothes were ragged and torn from all the times you had to push past brushes and trees. Along with that, you were bleeding–lower and lower, your blood trickled down your body in a way that made you feel almost queasy.

You haven’t the slightest clue where you are headed–but when you look back and see Night Raven College getting smaller and smaller, you know you should not stop. Not until you are far enough to escape the prying eyes and the caging arms of the student body entirely.

You feel a false sense of hope when you see the tippy-tops of Royal Sword Academy, like a radiant beacon–the sun, even, you are so, so close to freedom.

But you trip over a branch, crack! You land face first into the wet, muddy ground, the sticks press into your bruises and cuts–if Vil were here, he would certainly scold you for all the wounds that you’ve accumulated. But he isn’t, not if you can help it at least.

You hear a rustling and immediately, your heart sinks. Surely, no one would have followed you up here, would they? No, no, at least–that’s what you think until, from the very corner of your eyes, you see a feather rushing past you in the trees. It bobs up and down, the colour is all too familiar to you.

You scramble to get up in a panicked manner. Behind you, another one–another student, a quick glance back and you could tell from the mismatched eyes that fell slightly behind the hunter hiding among the trees.

“Stop following me!” You were almost positive they heard you, but there was no response. You huff and squeeze your eyes shut, blindly running forward as fast your worn out shoes could take you–which was not very far.

An arrow broke through the tense air, it was careful, calculated–Rook never missed, that was for sure. The tip of the arrow caught the fabric of your torn uniform, the blade too close to your neck for comfort, you fell over; exhausted, defeated.

With one final effort, you mustered all the strength you could to pull the arrow out–but then another barrage came, all precisely landing dangerously close to–but never directly into your flesh. You felt the air get knocked out of your lungs when another weight pressed down onto your body–Rook held your arm above your head with a triumphant smile. You breathed in once more, oh, how it hurt you to do so.

“Ah, I’ve bested you, Monsieur Mastermind!” Rook’s grin is joyous–too joyous for someone who hunted you down as if you were just a rabbit to him.

“So it seems.” The two share a laugh when Jade finally catches up to the pair of you. Unsettling, you shiver and let your body give in to your fatigue, “care for a rematch?”

Rook shakes his head, one by one plucking out the arrows he rained down upon you and hoisting you over his shoulder, you try to kick and scream–but is silenced when his hold on you gets tighter, the pressure almost feeling as if your bones would break as well.

“Oh, I’d be delighted–perhaps to a different prey to chase. This one, Roi du Poison, will not allow me to let go of.”

“A shame.” Jade’s voice trails off, their faces start to blur together, you’re too tired to listen anymore.

He glances over at the previously swung open door and as if on cue, Jade walks through it, the soles of his shoes tapping on the neat floor of the Monstro Lounge with a hollow click, a solemn expression plastered on his face. He takes a bow, hand to his chest.

Vil’s gaze wanders to his phone, it glows dimly at a text notification from Rook, a photo of you passed out over his shoulder, walking back to Night Raven College. Vil smooths out his hair and clothes.

“Checkmate.”

[thesuperiorgenshinaddict]

Vox N$FW Alphabet

AN: yeah i never thought i would actually post on tumblr but boom here i am. sorry for shitty layout because i just want to pump my hcs out and get it done w/ kekw also i think i made him a bit more of an asshole than ppl usually do so sorrryyy maybe idk Pairing: Vox x GN! Reader Warnings: Sexual content, Top! Vox, Mild degradation, not sure what else idk A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Lets be honest, this dude would NOT do aftercare whatsoever. He'll just go take a shower or something (yes he's waterproof if you say otherwise you're wrong L + Ratio) and when you blankly stare at him like 'wtf bro' this dude will not catch on until you straight up tell him to help you out. Once you successfully got the dude to consistently do aftercare, he'll get you a towel and clean you up and shit.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) This man is a raging narcissist. Probably looks in the mirror, fixes his ugly ass bowtie and does twelve different practiced poses every morning to make sure the public knows he's fucking sexy. He probably loves every part of him besides his side profile, or maybe he would like it because it's 'sleek, modern, state of the art' or some technology bullshit. Loves his claws though. He'd probably be really into ass. Thighs too, but slightly less. I have no clue why but I am convinced he fucking loves legs and all of that. I think he'd like your expression too, mainly because he feels like a god knowing that he makes you feel like that. Don't do mirror sex if you want him to focus on you though, because he's looking at himself more than he's looking at you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) It glows blue. Same shade as his claws and is electric. Don't put it next to fire, it'll burn the fuckin' tower down. Tastes mildly salty and has the same effect as pineapples where it feels like it's biting back. For body parts he likes to cum on, he probably would do it literally anywhere. Inside, on the stomach, on your face, ANYWHERE. Maybe not bukkake because he doesn't want it to get too messy and have to clean it up, that's too much work for a quick jizz.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Secretly finds you attractive romantically. Is it even a dirty secret? He'd just be too scared to do anything besides flirting and sex and shit for a long time. Maybe appeal to him enough and he'll take you on a completely romantic and sweet date that doesn't involve him blowing your back out afterwards. Christ, why the fuck is that somehow more appealing than having a one-nighter with him? Maybe I'm tweaking. Ignore this if you want. Go on and live your life with sweet husband Voxxy dookers buddy, I'm not judging too hard. Probably.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Pretty experienced. Unless you have some wild ass kink, chances are, he's probably smooth as fuck with it. Go wild.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Mating press. I originally thought I was just biased as fuck since I love the whole thought of mating press and shit, but apparently a good amount of people agree with me. He probably loves being close to you and mating press lets him fuck your brains out. Wants to be as deep as physically possible in you, and you're vulnerable to him and he's looooving it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Definitely is leaning on the more serious side. If he's joking around, it wouldn't be in a 'haha funny' way, it'd be more of a condescending way where he's making fun of how pathetic you are. Or horny, or something along the lines of that. I feel like he'd do makeup sex, so if that's the case, I can assure you he is not cracking jokes. Maybe cracking your legs apart though. Fuck, that wasn't funny.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) No hair. No hair. No hair. No hair. No hair. No hair. No hair. No hair. No hair. No hair. No hair. He wouldn't grow hair there. Uh. Anyway, I don't want to have so little shit written here, so when he was alive, he probably was pretty well taken care of down there. I think a bit more hair than trimmed, but not the whole ass Amazon forest, ya get what I mean? Why the fuck did I say that? Okay. Regardless, I think of him being like dark brown hair when he was alive. Probably was a few shades darker on his dicky wicky cocky okay seriously I have to stop wtf

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He'd be physically close to you, but if you're a one night stand, expect NOTHING emotional from him. Nada. Nothin'. On the other hand, if he was dating you or married or whatever your delusional ahh comes up with, he'd be just hardcore fucking you with a ton of horny ass compliments, but you'd be able to look into his eyes and just kinda tell he really loves you past all that horndog shit. Not really intimate sex for the most part imo, but if the both of you guys are in a shitty mood and it's not hate sex, he might say a few really sweet compliments and all that jazz. Fuuuuckkk I read that and he sounds kinda assholey (he is one though cope seethe /j don't get mad at me pwease) so if you're upset I half meant that in the 'he won't be bawling his eyes out during sex out of sheer love' way. Boom

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He has cameras everywhere in Hell. Did you even think of the mere possibility that he's not jerking that shit constantly? Kidding. I feel like he'd be busy working a lot, but if you're not there to help him out after work and shit, he'd jerk it. Maybe a few times a week normally. If he had time and he was lonely though... Bro's going ham on his poor footlong. He has a lot of videos and whatever to look at. I think he'd thrive just off his imagination too.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Dry humping (receiving), Mild degradation (giving), Voyeurism, Shock play (giving, duh), Hypnosis (gee i sure wonder if it's giving or receiving woahhhhh /s), Power dynamic, I definitely have a lot more but it depends heavily on your relationship to him :p

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Desk. Now. Besides that though, he's probably fine with a lot of places. I feel like he'd be somewhat against public or semi-public sex because it could make his reputation worse, but anywhere else is fine. His office isn't really risky because he knows when people are about to enter using his lil' cameras.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) A lot of things. Many, many things. For the most part though, if you tease him by wearing some revealing shit or acting like a bitch, he's getting a hard on.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Anything that puts him in a situation where he has little to no control. He's not willing to show that much vulnerability, no matter how well you know him. You can try domming, sure, but just know he has the full ability to do a 360.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Receiving. He'll occasionally do giving, but if you start calling him your submissive bitch or something, he'll spit and fucking leave. But regardless, he shoving his dick down your throat. Face-fucking is probably his favorite. Solid 6-7/10 in terms of skill, bonus points since his tongue is long.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Definitely rough like a good 90% of the time. The pace depends on his mood, but he'd go with medium to fast for the most part. Maybe slow if he magically has a break (That'll almost never happen. Poor dude loves his work so much, probably chronically online just because of how much time he has to spend with computers). Don't piss him off though, he doesn't have a speed cap on this type of shit. Random thing I wanted to add in, his typing speed is fucking insane. 300 something and higher when he's arguing on the internet. Would definitely participate in those arguments of who's the goat of sports or whatever. Also random flex but my typing speeds at like 200 wow I'm so cool everyone clap

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He barely has time to do anything, so quickies a lot of times end up being the only option he has to get off. Hella often. He enjoys an occasional slow sesh, but speedruns are his go-to.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Hell fucking yes. Always willing to try new shit out as long as it's not too risky. If it won't destroy his company, he's down for it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) This dude consumes more caffeine than humanely possible. He could probably go forever if it wasn't for his job, but he'd probably settle for 4~ rounds on a normal workday. If he's feeling excited though, expect more.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Definitely owns quite a bit. Probably only his company's products though, he wouldn't want to support other businesses. I don't think he's one to use them all that often since he'll normally just call you over to suck his dick, but piss him off and he'll shove a dildo in you and leave for a few hours, just to see how long you'll last.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He's such a brat. Taunts and makes fun of you constantly. Poor you, he loves to see you overstimulated and sobbing your eyes out.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) I feel like he wouldn't be that loud himself, definitely some breathy groans and shit, but on the other hand... If you're not loud enough, he'll make sure you're screaming out his name until he's satisfied. Maybe a little glitchy sounds. Before he comes, he probably becomes a little staticky.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Willing to fuck you with his aux cords. Would find it fun as hell, especially he can shock you easier.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) I think some of you guys don't remember that this man is 7ft. If he was human, it'd probably be around 7 inches, but he's tall as fuck. Expect it to be 9 inches minimum and probably larger. Average girth with thick veins running down the side. Pretty sure I said a good amount about it earlier.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Insanely high because he's always pent-up while working. Gets hard from the slightest bit of teasing. I have no clue what to write, but I want to write more so he's the type to get hard when he's comfortable. Cuddle with him and he's probably hard just because he's feeling cozy and shit.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He'd sleep a few minutes later, depending on how much he trusts you. If he doesn't trust you much, he's leaving to a different room. If he likes you though, he'd just go nighty-night. AN: hope you enjoyed thanks like and follow for more banger content /hj

[impostorsshow]

Gaze upon my ask Goldie anything au drawings

The main basis of this au is that I'm fucking obsessed with ghosts and so I threw Evan/Crying Child in here - when the bite of whatever happens, Evan goes to the hospital and dies, and instead of like haunting his family or haunting the hospital he died in, he haunts the cause of his death, which happens to be a certain Goldie locked in the backrooms. And possessing said Goldie and causing alot of panic in between the two of them.

This *singular* au is actually 14 distinct daydreams with their own plotlines and stuff that I've been slowly working out to smash into one au - right now I've managed to combine most of them together, leaving 5 or so scenarios that aren't "canon", but as of right now anything is subject to change, so I'll just. Make more Tumblr posts as I get things nailed down I guess.

Either ill l try to make this into a comic?? Or anyone who wants to can just, leave asks? The plot I have down right now is that Goldie and Evan are basically best buds after 10 years since they had to get over the "I killed you/you are the reason I'm stuck in a rotting pizzeria and not able to leave", but as mentioned they have not been able to leave the old location of Freddy's Diner, even if they eventually found a way out of the backroom. Well, they have been able to leave, but both of them decided Goldie would probably get found and used for spare parts if they left [not that they were exactly safe from anyone who was brave enough to set foot into the abandoned place.]

And because I don't want this to get super long whoop de doo Goldie was taken from the old location to the new Freddy Fazbears yippee. Except y'know, the teleportation and general psychic powers Goldie has was distinctly Not There Before, and Freddy is incredibly suspicious, though he has no clue what could even be causing it. He asks his friends about it, and T-Bee [working nickname] and T-Chi pull a bit of a prank on the nightguard [Micheal, y'know Evans brother that Certainly Won't Be an Issue] to get access to his phone and look up how to deal with Goldie, and eventually land on a page telling the two about a classic "put a circle of salt around the ghost and hope it works" or whatever and put a line of salt infront of Goldie's door. And wait.

And then Goldie tries walking out of his room and Goldie and Evan both get kicked out of their body, leaving it to fall down on the floor lifelessly. Why? Simple answer because I'm tired is that since Evan is a ghost Goldie is a ghost I'm gonna go take a nap

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

As someone who writes and someone who reads a lot of writing, I have something I'd like to say to other creators.

At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, I never leave comments. On anything. It's actually a habit I'm actively trying to break out of as I get further along into my writing career because I know how much comments mean to me and so I want to provide that for the creators I come across.

But the grand grand grand majority of work I have read and loved? I have never commented on. To this day, I have never written a review on Goodreads. Not even for books that have stuck with me since I was a child. I've never written a comment on any of the fanfiction I've read or on any Tumblr art that I come across.

I am speaking about work that has literally changed my life. There are fanfictions out there that I have remembered for years after I read them. The authors have no idea. I never wrote a comment letting them know. They have no clue how much their work meant to me and impacted me. Just yesterday I was thinking about a fan fiction I read when I was early in my teen years (so about 10 years ago or so). To be fair I don't think I could have written an eloquent comment at 13, but that's not the point. The point is that I remembered that fanfiction after 10 whole years and the creator doesn't have the slightest clue in the world that their words re-entered the mind of someone who has not revisited the work for a decade.

There are so many fanfictions that I have bookedmarked that I genuinely love to death, and I've never said anything under them. I still reread them to this day even though I bookmarked them when I was much younger. There are certain lines in them that have given me feelings that I have tried to replicate in my own writing. I hope that people who read my work can feel how I felt when I read some of the fanfics that I have saved on my phone. The creators, again, have literally no idea. Don't get me wrong: their fanfics have gotten comments from other people, but if I'm anything to go by then there are so many other people who never verbally expressed their love even though they absolutely do have love for the work.

To be quite honest I am just not the type of person who thinks to write comments. Even though I fully understand how much comments mean to creators (which is why I'm going out of my way to be better about leaving them), I just... Have never been the type of person to write about how much a piece of art means to me. A piece of art can shake me to my absolute core and imprint on me and I will never tell the person who made it how much I love it.

As someone who also creates, I know how it feels to get low engagement on work you have spent an inordinate amount of time on. I know it can be discouraging and make you feel like what you make isn't worth anything. I also know firsthand that someone can have an indescribable amount of love for what you do and keep that to themselves. I am not the only person out there like this. That's not a guess. I've heard people before say that they feel weird commenting on work that is "too old" even though they love it. Or they feel like creators don't want to get a notification for a simple "woah".

Someone can love your work dearly and not think to comment for a number of reasons. That doesn't mean that your work isn't valuable and it doesn't mean nobody loves it. And honestly? Even if your work really does only bring you joy, I still think that you should create it! But that's a point for another post. My point for this one is that a lot more people silently love your work than you realize. Unfortunately (or very fortunately depending on how you look at it) they probably outnumber the people who do comment.

So I'm sharing this with all other creators. You have so many silent lovers. Secret admirers exist in the world of creating, too, and I think that that is very important for you to remember. If you ever feel down about the fact that people may not say the things that you want them too? Consider that they're thinking it instead. Keep creating!!

[autisticlancemcclain]

Keith comes over for Lance’s fifteenth birthday. Hunk is still in Hawaii, but he Skypes, and the three of them talk for two hours. It’s nice.

After Hunk hangs up, Lance decides he wants to make his own birthday cake. Keith decides he wants to help. Neither of them have ever baked by themselves before, but they figure it can’t be too bad.

And it isn’t – they make their way to Wal-Mart, buying six boxes of Betty Crocker’s yellow cake mix, because they don’t know if the box is telling the truth and it really does make a whole cake, so they figure a few extra boxes won’t hurt. They also buy eleven cans of icing, along with a bunch of blue food dye and sprinkles.

The next thing they do is try to put everything together. (They do, at this point, realise they have way too much shit. They only end up using two boxes for the cake, and one to eat the batter. And Lance will take no criticism on that – cake batter is fucking delicious.) That goes pretty well, too – they measure the ingredients and mix ‘em together. Easy. They even remember to grease the pan.

The… troubles, so to speak, come when they pop the cake in the oven and set a timer. Lance hoists himself up to sit on the counter while Keith does the dishes, because Lance is the Birthday Boy™ and is thus exempt from chores.

“In what world does being alive on a certain day mean you don’t have to do dishes,” Keith grumbles. Lance sticks out his tongue.

“In this world, where I am currently Queen of the Day, and you are subservient to me. Scrub the dishes in silence, mullet.”

Lance watches as the challenge visibly sparks up Keith’s spine. He straightens immediately, hands stilling. The sounds of scrubbing cease. Keith turns slightly to him, eyes dark and narrowed.

Lance gulps. He’ll deny it until his dying breath, but something stirs in his gut.

“What was that?” Keith asks carefully.

Lance has never been one to back down, even when he’s knee-deep in a pile of trouble. Especially not to Keith’s bitch ass, as objectively attractive as it may be.

“I said chop chop, get to work.”

Keith moves so fast he’s practically a blur. Water splashes everywhere, but Lance hardly notices. He’s too busy shrieking at the top of his lungs and vaulting over the counter. He sprints up the stairs, on all fours like an animal.

“Someone’s never seen a horror movie,” Keith growls, voice closer than Lance thought he was, and Lance chants in his head that it is not hot, it’s not, it’s lame and stupid and horrible and Keith is the worst. He is.

Lance finally makes it up the stairs and tears down the hallway, swinging into Veronica and Rachel’s bathroom and slamming the door shut milliseconds before Keith can follow him in. He turns the lock, panting heavily as the adrenaline hammers through his veins. The doorknob jiggles for a few seconds, as Keith turns the handle, but then stops abruptly. Footsteps fade as Keith walks away. Lance narrows his eyes. Since when does Keith give up so easily? (Once, Lance lied and said that he’s never once posted an embarrassing picture online and he has been carefully curating his online image his whole life. Keith pulled an all-nighter tracking down his old Tumblr account from when he was 11, and he didn’t even have his name on that thing. To this day Lance has no fucking clue how Keith found it, and lives with the constant shame that Keith has seen a picture of him posing in his room at like 3 in the morning, in front of his old Naruto poster, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue with the caption ‘im SO random XO RAWR XP’. If he thinks about the situation too much he feels like crawling into the nearest ditch and letting nature take him, so he shoves it quickly out of his mind, because it is his Birthday and he refuses to feel shame on his birthday.)

Suddenly the footsteps return, rapidly this time, and the handle jiggles again. A mounting horror washes through Lance as he remembers, abruptly, that the locks in his house are weird and every single one of them can be opened from the outside with a coin. Lance barely has time to even squeak before the door slams open and Keith comes barrelling through, colliding with him and sending them both tumbling to the floor. By the time Lance orients himself again, Keith is straddling him, pinning his shoulders to the ground and smirking at him.

“Who’s queen now, huh?” he taunts.

Lance swallows.

He swallows again.

He desperately prays his cheeks aren't as red as they feel, but he doubts God loves him that much.

“What’s the matter?” Keith asks, leaning closer. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lance isn’t even sure his brain is still working, let alone his fucking tongue. All he can feel is the length of Keith’s body pressed against his, the tensing of his muscles as he pins him down, the borderline fucking smoulder in Keith’s expression, two inches from his face –

A shrill beeping noise makes them both jump. They look around, then look at each other. What the hell is –

“Is that the smoke detectors?” Keith asks, and then they look at each other in horror.

“The cake!” they yell at the same time, and quickly untangle from each other and sprint back downstairs to the kitchen. The stove is billowing grey smoke, and a lot of it. Lance grabs a dishtowel and starts waving it back and forth, hoping to dispel some of it.

“Open the windows!” he shouts, and Keith rushes to comply. While he does that, Lance holds the towel in front of his face, slipping on an oven mitt with his other hand, and carefully opens the oven door. More smoke blows in his face, and he coughs, eyes burning. He blinks to clear them, and sighs in relief when he doesn’t see any flames. He carefully grabs the glass baking dish.

“Can you open the back door?” he asks. “I’m gonna set this outside, see if that clears the smoke a bit.”

Keith nods, and Lance rushes over to set the pan down on the concrete stairs. Luckily, the glass doesn’t crack. They go back inside, closing the screen door behind them, and take a moment to stare in hopeless silence at the hazy kitchen in front of them.

“So much for that cake,” Keith says.

“Mamá is going to kill me,” Lance breathes. “I am going to die at fifteen.”

Keith grimaces. “Maybe we can scrape off the burnt parts?”

Lance thinks back to the block of char currently sitting in the backyard, and imagines him and Keith with a butterknife each, desperately scraping off the black in a vain attempt to find even a sliver of edible cake before Mamá gets back from work, and the image is so ridiculous he bursts out laughing. Keith was already cracking up a little at his own damn suggestion, and loses it when Lance doubles over. That’s how Mamá finds them, in a smoke-filled kitchen, leaning on each other, struggling to breathe from both their laughter and all the fucking smoke.

“Lance, must you make a mess every time you have a friend over,” she sighs, and Keith and Lance just laugh harder.

“You and Keith are cleaning this kitchen from top to bottom. No exceptions. I don’t care if it’s your birthday, or that Keith’s a guest. He’s here enough that that’s hardly true, anyway. Dios.”

She walks away muttering, and Lance doesn’t even correct her about his and Keith’s friendship status. He finds that he truly doesn’t want to.

To be fair, Keith is about to spend the next couple hours helping him scrub the kitchen after they basically set it on fire. That’s something friends do, he’s sure.

[everythingdenied]

baby fever-matty healy

a/n: just a short one that's been sitting in my notes app for months today besties :) got so much non tumblr related work today so this is the best i can do. my apologies if it makes zero sense el oh el mwah x warnings: mentions of pregnancy/babies etc, literally the faintest mention of weed?? other than that its just a happy liccle fluff wc: 1,029

"What'd you reckon babies even think about?" Matty hummed, sat cross legged on our living room floor, his back pressed up against the sofa as he watched the tiny human in front of him with fascination.

Cocking a brow, I looked up from my spot on the couch, fingers curling around the warm cup of tea in my hands.

"What do you mean?" I snorted, amused by his question.

"Well, they're always giggling, aren't they? Must be thinkin' about something dead funny if they're laughing that much."

"Babies laugh at everything, Matty. It's just cause they're...I dunno...it's just cause they're babies."

"That's a shit answer" He tutted, unsatisfied, and turned back to look at my niece. The baby babbled to herself, a toothless grin on her face as she stared, seemingly just as intrigued by my boyfriend as he was with her. Matty chuckled warmly, leaning forward, chin resting in his hands. "C'mon, love. you can tell us what's so funny. Promise I won't tell."

He held his pinky out to emphasis his 'promise' but Ella, being barely six months old, hadn't a clue what this meant, instead latching onto Matty's finger with a chubby little hand. I watched on with an affectionate role of my eyes, taking a sip of my tea.

I was honestly pleasantly surprised with how easily Matty had taken to my niece. When my sister had asked the two of us to babysit her for the afternoon whilst she and her partner went out for the afternoon, the first little bit of alone time they'd managed to get since El's birth, I'd been fairly sure my boyfriend would do nothing but whine and protest the whole day. More than used to his constant cynicism about everything, not excluding children, it felt strange to see him so enamoured with the little person crawling haphazardly around our front room; half expecting today to be a running commentary on how he simply 'couldn't stand' kids.

"She's quite cute, isn't she?" Matty mused wistfully, lifting the pudgy baby into his lap, and I couldn't help the grin that painted my lips. He glanced over his shoulder at me, eyes narrowing in confusion. "What?"

"I thought you hated kids" I teased, shifting on the sofa.

"Never said that."

"You have. Many times." He pouted, looking down at Ella, who had now become preoccupied with Matty's hair, tugging lightly on a stray curl that had fallen over his eyes.

"Well...I didn't mean I hated 'em. I just-they're just a bit stupid sometimes, aren't they?"

"Bit like you then" I quipped playfully and he wrinkled his nose, breathing out a sarcastic laugh.

"Twat" He retorted and I gasped, reaching down to lightly slap his shoulder, earning a characteristically dramatic 'ow' from my partner, a man oftentimes more childish than the six month old currently residing in his lap.

"Stop swearing. I'm not returning her to my sister with that as her first word." Matty bit back a smirk but still murmured an apology, carefully cupping Ella's face in his hands as he begged her not to repeat what he'd just said, barely holding in his laughter. The little girl understood nothing but still seemed to hang on to Matt's every word, his voice drawing out her sweetest smile, seeped in purity.

It was a tender sight, oozing with a domesticity I'd never seen before in Matty and I couldn't help but snap a quick photo on my phone, smiling down at the image.

Later that evening, hours after my sister had come to collect Ella, I found myself crawling into bed with Matty, smiling to myself as I clambered beneath the duvet, laying my head on his bare chest. His arms enveloped me as if on instinct, pulling me closer to his warmth as I pressed a kiss to his sternum.

He mewled softly when I nuzzled into him, fingertips tracing up and down my arm, the faint smell of weed and toothpaste blanketing the air around he and I. There was a comfortable silence, the two of us basking in the peace and quiet for a moment, albeit I could tell Matty's head was anything but, marked by his incessant fidgeting.

"You okay?" I murmured, brows knitting together. Matty only hummed in response, saying nothing as he nestled his face into my hair, breathing in deeply.

"Do you think I'd be a good dad?" he cut through the silence abruptly, his words practically unintelligible, muffled by my hair and whispered lowly as if he didn't quite want me to hear them.

"Hmm?" I glanced up at him.

"Do you...I mean, would I, I dunno, be alright, y'know, if we ever ended up having a kid?" I smiled earnestly at Matty, my hand splaying out atop the tattoo on his chest, feeling his pulse quicken against my palm. "Not that i'm saying we should have a kid now or anyth-"

"I think you'd be an amazing dad" I cut him off, craning my neck a little so that my lips met his in an act of comfort. We'd talk about this before, obviously, the whole 'baby' situation, but never seriously. I'd almost always instigated the conversation and, more often than not, Matty had brushed it off, mature enough to recognise that he probably wasn't quite ready for a baby. He still wasn't, nor was I, but I knew that having Ella around had changed something in him. "It'd be difficult with the band and stuff but, you'd love that kid more than anything. I mean, if you treat it even half as well as you treat me...well, it'd be lucky to have you."

"You mean that? You're not just saying it so i'll shut up and go to sleep?" I chuckled and shook my head, kissing him once more.

"I mean it" His eyelids fluttered contentedly. "Now's not the time...you've gotta focus on the boys. But one day...one day you'll make the best dad in the world." I punctuated my words with a peck. "Promise."

Matty smiled lazily, the pads of his thumbs drawing mindless shapes against my arms.

"Good, 'cause I quite fancy being called a dilf on twitter."