get on this train tumblr

💖Multifandom Follow Train💖

Hello everybody! I saw lots of people doing this and I also took part of these and yes, it works for the most so let’s try!

This is a really good way to find new multifandom blogs to follow that may be interested in the same fandoms as you and also a good way to make new mutuals and friends!! 💖💖

  • reblog this if you post over 80% multifandom
  • it would be cool if you followed me (bradleeyjamess)
  • when you reblog, tag at least 5 fandoms you are in!
  • follow at least 5 of the other people who reblogged this
  • watch your follower count grow :) 🤘

This sketch came out a little too depressing so I didn’f feel like finalizing it :‘D

…Haha. Happy suffering.

Hey guys! I’ve gotten a lot of new followers lately, so I thought I’d do a little summary of what’s been going on my blog so far this year to update you all.

I’ve been unusually prolific, so I’ve got a lot of new Sterek fics up, including some old WIPs I updated this year.

So, without further ado, here’s the masterpost, as of early May 2017. Happy reading!! And let me know if you think a post like this for my older fics would be helpful as well.

Keep reading

Soaked to the Bone

Pairing: Guzma/Reader
Plot: After completing your island challenge you go to visit Kukui, but end up getting caught up in a rainstorm. You and your team take shelter in a quaint little house on route 2, when one of the residents arrives home unexpectedly and finds you half dressed, soaking wet, and standing in his room.
Warnings: Smut, rough sex, possible dubcon
Notes: Hey I haven’t posted in like half a year what’s up I’m still alive and let me tell you, never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would write porn for a fuckin Pokémon game but here we are. I hope you guys don’t mind but I’m REAL DEEP in Sun and Moon and I found a new trash husband. I’ll write for Marvel again but right now I’m in a huge Pokémood and there’s only like a few fics for this guy and I haven’t seen any on Tumblr?? I gotta get this smut train rollin one way or another


“Oh my gosh, really, you don’t have to do this-“ you stutter, waving your hands back and forth as you stare at the woman in front of you. “Oh nonsense dear! We’re moving, and I don’t want you to be out in the rain like this, champion of Alola or not!” The woman said, grabbing another box and handing it to a Machamp. “But I-“ You tried to protest, but the woman completely ignored you, her husband waiting impatiently by the door.

Keep reading

when I say my music taste is varied I don’t think people understand that when my songs are on shuffle it goes from blink-182 to high school musical to a sam smith ballad.

me: I should work on my writing! just need to check a couple of things…

me, an hour later: …what was I doing, again?

future // jaalxf!ryder

Oh no I’ve fallen on the hype train and I can’t get off.

Also I haven’t been on tumblr in a while, forgive the rust.

//

He had long grown weary of war, aged prematurely by the hands of his people, so desperate to throw themselves at the feet of the first thing to call itself a god.

(It never claimed to be a deity, only to gift them something that even their own ancestral pantheon never did.

I will grant you ascendancy, declared the false-prophet. I will grant you metamorphosis.

Into what?)

Jaal had no knowledge of these aliens, had no resources to draw upon, but he could sense the youth that Sara possessed, the inexperience of leadership that he almost waxed nostalgic for.

(“We’ll find them.” She vowed, when the latest missing rebels list landed on her desk.

At some point, he realized he had started to believe her.)

They spoke of many things, of language, of loss, of poorly translated jokes.

(They did not speak of their fathers. Because Sara still clung to the hope that hers’ still lived, and Jaal prayed that his did not.)

He did not know when a flicker of something appeared between them, in the downtime after missions, or in stolen breaks between battle, or when he began to fear for her when she went without him.

(Or worse, when Vetra noticed he was fretting more then her,

and then she started with the smirking.)

But he did know that her touch chased away the years that had built up in his bones, that when she curled around him he could honestly say he was happy.

(He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt such a thing.)

That the word future had begun to mean…

something.

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Final Bows in ‘Hamilton’ on Broadway (NYT):

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s final bows for his farewell performance in “Hamilton” on Saturday night seemed routine, if overly humble for the departure of the show’s star and mastermind. He even shared his bows with the other cast members also exiting the show, including Phillipa Soo and the Tony winner Leslie Odom Jr.

But then the theme song to “The West Wing” kicked in from the orchestra pit.

Mr. Miranda giggled and took a couple of shy bows, only to turn around and be embraced then pushed back to the front of the stage by Christopher Jackson, who plays George Washington, for a proper bow.

Still, the curtain call lasted no more than two and a half minutes, despite fervent applause, which had been consistent throughout the night. The opening number received multiple standing ovations, as did many others. But Mr. Miranda and other performers would pause for only a minute each time before moving the show forward.

Afterward, in the pouring rain, hundreds and hundreds of fans filled West 46th Street, waiting for Mr. Miranda to emerge from the stage door at the Richard Rodgers Theater.

Instead, Mr. Miranda appeared, “Evita”-like, on a balcony atop the theater’s marquee. Holding an umbrella and waving to fans, he paced from one side of the marquee to the other, occasionally stopping to hold his left hand over his heart to show gratitude.

Then he was gone.

“It’s over, folks,” a police officer yelled as he tried to keep the crowd out of the street. “There’s no more.”

unmended

young, beautiful, and believed to be broken

in live with memories that aren’t your own

watching the trains go by

until the echoes sound like sunlight

silence carrying the name of the bone collector

the air hazy with unnameable secrets

a stranger to your own soul

too young to be a tragedy


poem challenge day 31