#what’s next

[samandcolbyownme]

I’ve had a few requests basically asking the same thing… so I’m just going to combine them all and the Colby calling reader mama on live is a bonus 🫠 he could call me mama any day he wants.

Anyway… here’s what’s next 🖤🤪 I love writing the truth or drink video one shots. They’re so funnn!

[philsmeatylegss]

We got one bathroom reveal we’re getting there yall!!

[mathispower4me]

you guys are really making me throw away all the other fandoms I’m in with these fandom polls huh

[dorokora]

All these zippers just reminds me of

[gintrinsic-writing]

Legend Meets (And Flees From) The Gang

—

Ravio looked up with a start when the shop door opened then slammed shut, shoving his hood back before it could fall into his eyes. Link stood with his back to the door, arms stretched to either side as if he was prepared to physically bar it. His chest heaved, and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. The welcome bell above him chimed merrily as it swayed side to side. “Uh, what’s up?” Ravio asked.

Link twitched. The light in his eyes wasn’t a far cry from wild. He looked like the hounds of hell were after him. And knowing his past, maybe they were. “They’re on to me,” he hissed.

“Who?”

Link shushed him, waving one hand frantically. “Keep your voice down,” he said, crouching low as he hurriedly wedged a chair against the front door.

Ravio was quick to grasp the urgency of the situation. He sprinted to the nearest window and pulled the curtains closed. “Tax collectors?” he whispered.

“Worse.” Link lifted a loose floorboard to reveal a stashed go-bag.

“Worse?” Ravio despaired. He reached for another curtain. “Worse than tax collectors? Oh Goddesses, loan sharks? It’s not that mushroom dealer is it? Because I swear I didn’t steal—”

Someone knocked on the door. Loudly.

“Motherfuckers!” Legend hissed. He gripped Ravio by the shoulders. Ravio wished he could call the situation romantic. “I’m going to sneak out the back. Buy me as much time as you can. I was never here!”

“Wh-what? You’re leaving me? To face what?”

Link visibly shuddered, and Ravio braced himself for the worst. “Heroes,” he said, with all the grimness of a guillotine dropping.

There was another loud knock, followed by the ominous (and very wry-sounding) words: “We know you’re in there.”

Ravio pulled Link behind the counter and toward the back hallway. “Heroes?” he questioned in a whisper. “What do you mean?”

“Amateurs,” Link said. “Eight idiots who don’t even know how to dress the part. They were asking around town for me. Apparently they want to explore some kind of portal, I don’t know! But I’m not about to be dragged into another shitstorm. Farore’s already got me by the balls, I’m not about to lose my head because a bunch of wannabes—“

The door rattled. Thankfully, the chair held, though Ravio suspected it wouldn’t for long. Link’s ears stuck straight up, like a rabbit in the shadow of a predator. He swallowed, tearing his gaze away from the door as though it left him defenseless. “Please, Rav.”

Ravio wrung his hands together nervously, but he nodded. “Sure, okay. But you owe me.”

Before Ravio could even register what was happening, Link planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Thanks, you’re the best. Sometimes.” He darted toward the door, leaving Ravio to splutter and blush.

“Th-that’s not enough of a payment!” he lied, ignoring the way his heart fluttered. Stupid heroes and their stupid charms. This favor was worth at least five hundred rupees. No, one thousand!

Link grinned over his shoulder, too smug for his own good. “Add it to my tab,” he said, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He opened the door, shouldering his way through immediately—

And ran straight into a tall warrior with messy brown hair and a fur hood.

“Howdy,” the stranger, who didn’t even budge, said.

“Fuck,” Link answered.

“Facial tattoos?” Ravio cried.

They were in trouble.

[summerwages]

keeping my options open..

[full-moon-hate-account]

he’d never know what this means so who TRULY knows what I’m talking about but, to sirius, remus was an evening drive to nowhere. something quiet and peaceful to make the static of a long day become less overwhelming. he was an open window on some highway during sunset, he was the perfect song to match the mood. he was golden hour or whateverthefuck. he was the knowledge that nothing could reach them, even if just for a few moments. with him there was no past or future, just the present, the connection to the road and scenery around them, the connection to their “now” and their time spent together.

[henreyettah]

The convention I’m tabling at in November just posted the artist alley exhibitor descriptions and on the one hand I’m very excited about finally doing it but on the other hand I am shitting myself about it because now it’s OFFICIAL

[gniteruirui]

Me having time to draw. Me can’t draw

[brook-a]

Cole doing a PR push at the Indy500 feels very random but also exactly right.

[biceratops7]

Lmao I just realized this:

You know what I love about ofmd? It’s literally the manifestation of that one classic post making fun of people who use “what’s next?!” As an argument against representation. (You know the one where the punchline is that each “ridiculous” description is a person they know in real life? I can’t find it but that one)

“What’s next?! A queer Somolian man who’s chubby and in love with a latine nonbinary person?!”

Oh you mean Oluwande and Jim.

“This is ridiculous, soon there’ll be a gay Maori man with a leg brace and ptsd!”

Already exists and he’s the romantic lead, Next

[gentlemanschronicles]

[zionanelequaso]

DON’T CALL ORDER FROM SIDE ORDER AT 3:00AM!!!!!!! (HE CAME TO MY HOUSE)

[emrysaf]

Pen Pals..

Not me thinking about middle school/high school pen pals with Mattsun and an American. They are super into all kinds of cultures. Like anthropology-like.

Want to meet after high school but can’t. Mattsun says Iwa will be in America for college. Oc/reader is like, “I would but I’m poor.”

Finally able to make the trip in the guise of Iwa will be a big help for a final project for their Anthropology/Japanese Language double major.

Iwa calls Mattsun to double check what’s going on with this strange American pen pal. Mattsun seems short and grumpy. Says he’s just tired after being up all night with oc/reader.

Iwa takes this… wrong. On top of all other small negatives he’s ever heard (disregarding that the positives FAR outweigh the negatives in Mattsuns feelings toward oc/reader)

Talks to another friend while waiting on OC/reader.. expecting a culturally appropriating weeaboo type. Not boring ole oc/reader. Goes on about how tired Mattsun is of oc/reader and all kinds of stressed-college-kid-unloading-without-thinking stuff.

Oc/reader leaves and slowly but surely pulls away from Mattsun. But they can’t waste a whole college career of Japanese study.

**Time Skip**

Oc/reader offered an anthropologist position in Japan. First assignment? Funeral differences throughout the prefectures. Big, small, traditional etc..

Stumbles upon a certain funeral home/mortuary with none other than Mattsun…

It’s been years. What will happen now?

….

Totally not thinking of that.

[summerwages]

bleeding hearts