Im Feeling Things - Tumblr Posts
affectionate nicknames for the rad ppl who are reading this
good morning gentlerats and germs/pos
my midterms are cominng up i woke up at 6 am today running on a disappointingly low amount of sleep because i was either drawing or crying about the missing children from FNAF again and a bowl full of cereal knowing i have to stay after school until 7:30
i hope u have a good day. Drink wasser (good 4 u) eat yuor veggies (good 4 u) and sleep (good 4 u)
Crying and shaking and throwing up. So fucking beautiful, I'm actually tearing up
Secreto de Amor (Helmet Party Animatic)
re: Ghost putting his full weight on you when he fucks you. Flipping you onto your stomach and squeezing your thighs together, pinning your legs under his hips, his thick thighs bracketing you as he pushes his cock into your dripping cunt. He'll lay himself on top of you, pushing his arm under your chest to squeeze your tits before his hand wraps around your throat. All so that he can feel you struggle under his weight, so that he can feel the way he dwarfs you, the way he can press his whole chest to your back and still need to tip his head to breathe in your ear. He'll coo at you to "lift your hips baby" but it's just to feel the way you squirm under him, so that he can hear you whine when you realize he has you pinned and at his mercy.
Such a sweet thing, always taking what he gives you without a fuss, turning your head with parted, panting lips, so he can push his tongue against yours. Animal, desperate, predator and his pretty prey.
thinking about how sunarin, whose primary love language is physical touch, would take advantage of the weather everytime it gets cold, saying, "oh look, it's raining— guess it''s cuddle weather, doll..”
you'd always roll your eyes at him, though there's a smile on your face, “rin, it's barely a drizzle.”
“it's still rain.” he pouts cutely, hazel green fox eyes a bit narrowed as you get up to get ready for the day, him still entangled in the sheets of the bed you two share. “c’mon doll, stay home and cuddle with me...”
your eyes soften at your boyfriend's smooth voice, before the same thing that happens every time there's even the slightest chance of rain or the tiniest bit of appearance of gray clouds in the sky happens once more— you sigh, looking at sunarin with a you-win expression on your face. “fine, but only because i'm cold and am actually looking for an excuse to be lazy today..”
he tugs you back to bed in one swift motion and encases you in his arms. he wraps the blanket around both of you and nuzzles his head into your neck. he starts peppering kisses all over your neck and face, sending tingling sensations all over your body and warmth in your heart.
“yeah, totally not ‘cos you just wanna cuddle your hot as fuck boyfriend.” he teases.
you giggle as he presses a sweet kiss on your lips, his fox eyes lovingly gazing into yours. “yeah, totally not that.”
--
You’ve been whining for the last 5 minutes. All because your boyfriend was being a selfish jerk.
“Let me try Rin!”
Suna tuts, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “No can do, baby.”
“You’re being mean.” you whine, reaching for the lollipop in his hand, frown deepening when he moves it further from your reach.
“I asked you if you wanted one before we left the apartment. You said no.” Suna pops the sweet back in his mouth, deciding that was the safest place to keep it. He presses the button for the elevator as you both arrive at the end of the hallway, seemingly unfazed by your glare.
“Don’t be so greedy, I just want a taste.”
“Nah, that’s nasty.” he responds, words slurred as he swirls the candy in his mouth.
Insulted, you cross your arms over your chest. “No it’s not! How is it different to kissing me?”
The brunette offers you a sly grin, mischief gleaming behind his eyes. “It’s not.”
It takes a second for the jab to click in your head before you’re slapping the athlete against his chest, meeting nothing but toned muscle. He has the audacity to look hurt.
“Y-you’re such a dick!” you sputter, “Fine. I’ll go get my own one.” Huffing, you turn to make your way back to your shared apartment. “Just know you’re never getting another kiss from me.”
“Come on, princess. I was just joking.” Suna snickers, fingers latching onto your wrist to stop you in your tracks.
“Yeah, well you’re not funny. Have fun never kissing me again.” you grunt, putting all your strength into releasing yourself from his grip.
A large finger curls around your jaw, lifting your face upwards. “What-” Your brain barely has the time to register the hint of strawberry before Suna’s lips are crashing into yours. Before you even know what you’re doing, your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer. Sweetness explodes in your mouth as his tongue invades your taste buds. Even his lips carry the candy’s flavour, leaving you chasing for more.
Chuckling through his nose, the brunette finally pulls away. He gives your lips a few more pecks before pulling away completely. “There,” he smirks, wiping the moisture clinging to your lips, “You got a taste now. Happy?”
Weaving your fingers into his silky locks, you peer at him through your lashes. “No.” you pout, just to be difficult. “I need to try again.”
With one hand resting against your waist, Suna walks you backwards until he’s got you pinned against the wall. “Yeah?” he breathes, “But what was that about never getting a kiss from you again?” he smirks, finding way too much amusement in the way you squint your eyes at him.
“Carry on and you’ll see.”
Suna dips his head to leave a trail of kisses on your jaw. “Well I better start behaving then.” You can feel the playful curl of his mouth against your skin. “And for the record, kissing you isn’t nasty.“ He’s so close his lips brush against yours with every word.
A shiver runs down your spine in anticipation.
“It’s my favourite fucking thing in the world.” he whispers before smashing his lips against yours.
Anyone have the gif’s of the Chilean goalkeeper Christiane Endler lifting two of her teammates with ease.
I need them for um reasons lol
Jenny Slate, Stage Fright (2019)
The ending that we all want.
( what is your choice?)
no thoughts. head empty. just daniele tramet.
Girlie you executed this idea perfectly, thank you so much!! I think I'll melt into the floor now 🫠
Burdened — L. Howlett
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader
Summary: Based on this request!!!!
CW/Tags: not proofread bc I literally finished this at 5am 😭, Logan is an ASS, a lot lot of feelings, lowk heavy angst I THINK, no use of Y/N, don't like don't read.
A/N: @rambosgirl Ily girlie I really enjoyed writing this :33 I AM SO INSANELY SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG !!!!!!! Also while writing the ending of this my Spotify Smart Shuffle fucking played First Love/Late Spring by Mitski and I swear it knows how fitting it is bro wtaf ok LAST statement but like this is my first 1K+ word fic are you guys proud of me :33 I'm starting this at like 3am so don't bully me if the ending doesnt' make sense ok byeeeeeeeee
WC: 1.6K (get comfy guys) / Navigation
It was unnecessarily irritating. And frankly really, really fucked up.
Anytime you turned your back from a seemingly butterfly-inducing interaction with Logan, you found him all over Jean as if he wasn’t just chatting you up four minutes ago.
Jean Grey was—from what you’ve surveyed over your time at the mansion—not really phased, despite her somewhat established relationship with Scott. She was intelligent and good-natured, flashing you sickeningly sweet smiles in the corridors and occasionally complimenting your outfits as if hers weren’t twice as stunning.
But every time you spotted Logan gazing down at her with the look you thought he’d reserved for your eyes only, the image of perfection the redheaded telepath had materialised in front of you dissipated like a glass of ice left to liquefy under the scorching sun.
Because she never pushed him away, and she was so clearly inevitably attracted, whether she displayed it or not. It was virtually written all across her sharp features, and you knew the same was scripted all over your own when speaking to Logan.
That dip your heart made every time you saw the two’s chemistry from afar; it wasn't just blatant jealousy.
It was deeper.
It was nastier.
It clung to your insides like a weight you couldn't possibly shake off. The constant sense that you were just a swift distraction, a momentary diversion from the real object of his desire.
It ate you up from the inside out and exhausted you to no end.
When Storm or Rogue cautiously approached you and tried to console you, you shrugged it off as if it was some uncomplicated highschool sweetheart drama. They knew damn well it wasn’t. Your conflicting feelings for Logan were gradually making you lose yourself— your well-built dignity. You were slowly but surely morphing into someone you didn’t even recognise. Someone who accepted being second best without any contemplation.
All for a man who was immortal. All for someone who presumably considered you a fleeting paragraph in his primitive life while he was an entire novel in yours.
You wanted— needed to locate yourself in the vast body of water which was your feelings. You needed your sense of self-worth to reappear by a miracle, nevertheless, you knew it would take immense time and exertion to track it back down.
But in a wretched attempt to do so, you settled on a fairly elaborate plan and started disregarding each one of Logan’s advances. Suddenly, you conveniently had somewhere else to be every time he approached, you pulled back and overlooked his easy smiles along with the playful banter you practically used to feed off of.
At first, it felt as if you were reclaiming some of your power, spotting his perplexed looks in your peripheral vision as you wandered off to God knows where. But of course, everything you did came back to bite you in the ass. If anything, it only made the truth clearer. He barely even noticed, and if he did, he didn’t give a single shit.
And Jean? She remained unbothered, untouchable— flawless, even. You were the mastermind of this whole game, yet you were the only one losing.
After a particularly humiliating stretch of witnessing Logan and Jean’s shared giggles and stolen looks from across the table, you ultimately found your resolve. Alcohol really was liquid courage, because after a few drinks and several stabs of food, you closed in on them lounging on the couch post-meal.
Logan’s bare arm was extended across the back of the grimy cushions behind Jean like some kind of cheesy rom-com, cowlicks a prominent silhouette against the weak flickering of the television. But no matter how much you resented them— her, you would never even come by the opportunity to be in the redhead’s position.
“Howlett,” you enunciated, voice sharp enough to slice through the ambient noise like a shard of glass.
Howlett. No other soul could call him that without repercussions. Aside from you. That was why you felt so unique, so distinct from the others, that was the crumb of specialty you were desperately clinging on to.
He shifts to glance over his shoulder, a spark of recognition igniting within him at the sound of your voice—not missing the shred of urgency concealed beneath it. “Hm? What's up?”
You hesitate with your next words, intently but subtly taking in his scruffy features in the dimmed lighting for what felt like it could be the final time. Because after this, you knew for a fact neither one of you could view each other in the same way. You were the one who let him under your skin, you were the one who had to tear him out, and it unfortunately was an agonisingly slow process.
“We need to talk.”
Four words. Yet, it still gave you the sensation of several weights placed upon your back; the unavoidable impending argument, manipulation spat right into your face, and the most dreaded of all, how circumstances would be after tonight.
His expression stiffened mildly as he reluctantly got up from the couch, aged leather groaning beneath his weight. The sensation of Jean abruptly invading the back of your mind was extremely unsettling and even though she appeared unphased, she, without a question, detected your abnormal uneasiness and was gingerly flicking through your thoughts.
Which was apprehensive, to say the least.
Logan fell into step with you as you departed from one of the many doddering living rooms, proceeding to a more secluded space nearing the obnoxious stairs in front of the grand entryway, mansion almost bizarrely silent with all the kids asleep. Jean wasn’t in your head anymore, but she undoubtedly already knew your objectives to the script.
You halted and so did Logan, weight finding its position set upon the auburn wood of the stairs.
He eyed you with undivided attention. Your stomach threatened to do a fucking flip despite the conditions, the look nearly making you scrap all of this and go right back to being his side piece regardless of the anguish it put your mind through. But you dug your heels in, the clearing of your throat echoing sharply off the vacant walls.
You square your shoulders and tilt your chin up boldly, aiming to stand your ground. “What the hell am I to you? Because from what I see and a whole lot of other people do, I’m just an afterthought. Filler for the gaps Jean left open. Care to elaborate on that, Howlett?”
He sighed, glancing at the wall behind you as if he was already fed up. “It’s not like that, bub. You’re makin’ it bigger than it is.”
Your blood scorched at the casual dismissal. Your voice inevitably rose but doesn’t go over a whisper, “Don’t patronise me, Logan,” you scoff. “I’m not some stupid kid with a stupid crush, so don’t let your ego get out of hand. I’ve watched you get all up on her, and then come to me when she’s got a class. Do you even fucking hear yourself?”
His jaw stiffened, his own frustration growing. “You really think it’s that easy? I never asked you to get involved. You know how it is with me and her. You don’t get how fucked my life is, it’s your own fuckin’ fault things got messy.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go sulk somewhere else, I don’t give a shit how crappy your life is. It doesn’t take much to be a decent fucking human!— mutant, whatever. I’m not gonna let you come crying to me when things don’t work out with Jean. I’m worth more than that. You can’t see that, it’s your damn problem, not mine.”
He was visibly trying to find his footing, and you took it as an opportunity to carry on, “It’s not my fault this got sloppy. You can’t just invite a woman for a nice drive and end up throwing her out the door a moment later. You knew damn well what you were doing to m—”
“You don’t know what I gotta deal with every day. It’s difficult. I never wanted it to get like this. You were the one overthinkin’ it.”
You shook your head forcefully, exasperation boiling over. “I don’t give a fuck, Logan— stop hiding behind that, you don’t even remember half of your damn life! It’s not messy, it’s cruel. I’ve had my own trouble, but I don’t use it as an excuse to hurt people who care about me. Don’t put all of it on my back.”
He opens his mouth to retort, but you cut him off. “Don’t. Don’t say anything. I’ve dealt with you for half my time here. I’ve had enough of your bullshit.” A flash of remorse graced his eyes but it didn’t do a thing.
“I’m not your backup plan. I’m not waiting for you to look at me the way you look at Jean. I deserve someone who doesn’t just act like they give a shit. I’ve made my choice and you’ve made yours. I’m done. Goodnight, Howlett.”
With a harsh turn of your heel, you walked away with a heavy heart. But your head was clear for the first time in months, your shoulders were lighter, and the clarity you felt nearly blew your veins out. It would be painstakingly tough to face him tomorrow morning, but you knew you would get over it eventually.
Also i just realised in the morning Washing Machine Heart works WAYYy better but it's whatever I guess 😮💨
What? oh it’s nothing just the crippling grief of watching a nineteen year old abuse victim with a barely-functioning support system and a manipulative father figure try his absolute hardest to give the child he was unwillingly saddled with something resembling childhood by making war a game. Because he doesn’t have any other ideas. It’s just the slow horror of her wonder and innocence dimming over time. It’s just how her childishness was portrayed not as the good and right nature of her age, but a liability on the battlefield. Not only that, but her childhood personality was actively loathed by us, the fans watching, because it was annoying. Have you ever met a fourteen year old who wasn’t annoying? It’s the dawning realization that none of us liked Ahsoka much until she’d had her innocence seared out by blaster fire. It’s the shame of knowing that we saw her slow painful slide into loss and suffering as growth, as development into something more palatable, less bothersome, more mature for her age. Because it’s fiction, and fiction doesn’t need to be realistic, just entertaining, and we’d never look at a Real Kid that way. It’s just the knowledge that anakin was a slave with a slave mother until he was nine, and at nine spoke with the gravity and wry wit of someone who has witnessed hell. It’s that he was married with a child at nineteen, crouched in the dirt bloody as bombs shot overhead and his little sister tried not to cry in his arms and his men died without hope beside him, and would stay that way for three years.
They stop keeping score a few seasons in. I don’t remember when. They stop because it wouldn’t work anymore, it wouldn’t be funny. We wouldn’t find it funny. Games can’t make war fun when you aren't a child.
The animatic I’ve been working on since last November is finally done!! Over 100 hours of work on this, much agony and tribulations, but it’s finally done.