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Sunny

@sunnybubbles609

He/They šŸ¤šŸ’“šŸ’™ Multi-fandom Brain rot, nothing else to see here
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saphushia

i sat down intending to draw dcdp stuff and then spent like 2-3 hours scribbling older/king danny designs. woops lol

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murmeloni

I need more fanboy Clark Kent in my life.

Like, he's seen Bruce Wayne interact with a child once and immediately fell in love with the guy. Now his bedroom walls are plastered with posters and he follows several social media accounts focused on capturing pictures of Bruce with kids and/or animals etc. He defends Bruce to anyone, no matter the antics he gets up to and it has become a bit of a running gag around the office.

Then, one day, Cat is out sick and someone jokingly suggests Clark should cover the gala in her stead, seeing as Bruce Wayne will be there and maybe this'll be Clark's shot to finally get his man? To everyone's surprise, Perry really does assign the gala coverage to Clark, who spends the days leading up to the event in a state somewhere between absolute panic and ultimate bliss.

But when the day finally arrives, Bruce doesn't show.

Of course Clark does his job and interviews everyone there (yes, even Lex Luthor) but a part of him spends all night waiting for Bruce to crash the party late, like he so often does.

Eventually, Clark gives up hope and it's shortly after that, that he stumbles upon one of the children dragged along to the event by their parents. Because apparently someone thought a charity gala was a good environment for an eight year old. The parents are nowhere in sight and the child is close to tears, so Clark makes it his mission to cheer the little girl up, regaling her with stories from his upbringing on a Kansas farm while he searches the crowd for her family.

With Clark thus occupied, he doesn't notice Bruce Wayne finally making his appearance for the night. But Bruce definitely notices him. The gentle giant who's all kind smiles and corny jokes... Until he finds the girl's parents. Uncaring of the fact that he's here on a job and that these people are richer than any one person should be and could easily sue him into oblivion, he takes them aside, fire in his eyes, and tears them a new one for losing track of their kid like this. Anything could have happened to her and maybe the readers of the Daily Planet would like to know about that? After all, how reliable and trustworthy could a company whose CEOs won't even look after their own daughter really be?

Bruce is immediately smitten. The passive-aggressive lecture and subtle threats - not to mention the broad shoulders and handsome face - are incredibly attractive to him and he wastes no time cornering the man afterwards.

Clark, who is so starstruck by the mere sight of Bruce coming towards him that he loses the ability to speak, nearly faints when Bruce just straight up shoves his tongue into his mouth. They end up in one of the coat rooms and Clark thinks that's it, just a one night stand. It sucks that he won't see Bruce again, but the night was amazing and at least he has the memory to treasure, right?

He thinks that right up until he gets to work the next day and two dozen red roses are waiting for him on his desk. There's a handwritten card nestled inbetween the petals and on it is the name of a restaurant along with a date and time. It's signed by Bruce.

And that is how Clark gets together with his celebrity crush.

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If Sherlock Holmes was Isekai'd to a fantasy world he would just deduce the rules of this world and get back to solving crimes. He'll find an elf girl sidekick,name her Watson, and pretend like nothing happened.

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ironmyrmidon

"If you look closely, you can see traces of chalk dust on the floor. Our murderer must have used a magic circle to kill our victim."

"Actually Holmes, this looks like salt. Quite unusual for a magic circle, since it can be scattered so easily..."

"It tastes like salt too. Good eye Watson. Let us start by visiting the fish mongers."

"Well I would enjoy some fried dragonfish, but how does this help our investigation?"

"A process of elimination, my long-eared friend. There're only two ways for the culprit to get salt in the city. They could have brought it in themselves-"

"But then they'd have to pay the tarrif!"

"Very astute! No, a much likelier option is that they bought it here. Either the docks or the meat market would be the place. And I have a hunch that our culprit is fishy in more ways than one."

"But Holmes, how did you know the merfolk ambassador was the killer?"

"An excellent question, the key was the footprints."

"But he doesn't even have feet!"

"He doesn't as of right now. But you forget, the magic circle."

"I see! The killing spell was a water spear, which normally requires a circle."

"But doesn't if you're already imbued with water magic like our scaly ambassador."

"So the circle..."

"To grant him a pair of feet. For just long enough to leave distinctive footprints in the scattered salt and to make us suspect a two-legged killer."

"By the Goddess, Holmes, you're a genius!"

Makes sense.

Anyway, getting sheer autism vibes from Holmes

Good. That means I wrote him in-character.

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fruitpeels
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appendingfic

"Slip a little something in their tea - no fuss, and you can always pretend it was a mistake"

"Poison is WOMAN'S weapon! Call them out on their front lawn and slaughter them and everything they hold dear!"

"Can I compromise and invite them over for a party, get them drunk, and slaughter them while they're sleeping it off?"

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I am sometimes more doubt than man.

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ok so fun fact.. every time i see fanart of suit Cecil sitting behind a desk so only his top half is visible… i imagine that the rest looks like this or something else totally bonkers

..probably dental… as in…somewhere at the station… there is whole damn drawer filled to the brim with brand new teeth..Ā 

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svrssnp

i am begging everyone to watch this video right now

HSHDJDJ

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azkabqn

Dont avada kedavra the messenger

Why is this edited just like Unnhhh? I fucking love it!

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hawt-me33

Coming into a fandom late

Coming into a fandom early and watching it become an angry clusterfuck

Being in a dormant fandom that suddenly comes alive again after a new book/movie

Don’t forget about those who come in the midst of a fandom war.Ā 

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Accuracy at its best

Being in a fandom and not even knowing there’s a war going on…

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my-reylo

all of this shit…lol

When You’re Not In The Fandom But You’re Nosy AF

When you get into a fandom only to discover it’s dead

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jupiter235

This gets better every time I see it.Ā 

Being in a dead fandom…

Or being in such a tiny fandom that it feels like youre the only one

The accuracy hurts.

Being in a fandom that had a shit ending.

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it-is-bugs

When you’ve been fangirling long enough, you’ve experienced all of the above.

Being in a fandom meant for kids.

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teaganvamp

This just gets better..

When you realize that joining the fandom has ruined you

Fandom hell in general

Yes.

This^^^ just… ALL OF THIS.

Being in so many fandoms that you don’t even know what’s going on

THIS IS THE SKULDUGGERY FUCKING PLEASANT FANDOM IN ONE POST!!

Trying to recruit people to your fandom

Annnnnnndddd it’s back

Being in a fandom which has so many antis

I’ve probably reblogged this before, but that was before these great additions.

Being in a fandom that actually works together

Why is this so true? All of it.

being in a fanbase but all your mutuals suddenly turn into Kpop blogs

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hangingfire

I always enjoy it when a good post comes around again and has been improved by the reblogs like the years for a fine wine.

Being in a fandom when shit goes down and everyone has different opinions

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marianagmt

When you are in a fandom and don’t care for others people opinion…..even if they are right…(believe me, I have met several of those)

Being in a fandom you never meant to join

I love this. and it’s gotten better

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mahlerlove

Getting into a fandom just for the drama and not for the actual thing

Which GIF would representĀ ā€œBeing in a fandom but not watching the show/not watching the show anymoreā€?

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reblogged

Welcome to the second episode of ā€œShould I write this?ā€

An AU where Jason Todd decides that Batman isn’t worth it and opens a coffee shop on Park Row, tutors street kids on the weekends and hangs out with Harley and Ivy on his down time. He’s perfectly content with his life. And so what if he specifically chose this location cause it was on their old patrol route? And because it was next to a batburger that Bruce always took him to?

That means absolutely nothing, Harley.

But of course Replacement had to ruin everything by stumbling into his shop and ordering black coffee and- putting monster in it?

This kid needs serious help. Jason doesn’t plan to be the one to give it. But something about the kid also kinda makes Jason want to simultaneously punch him in the face and hide him away so no one can hurt him. And really Jason was mad at Bruce. Not Tim.

So sue him if he doesn’t wake the kid up when he falls asleep at his booth.

(Steph comes to get him and Jason nearly shits himself cause Cass was outside and Jay was like ā€œHoly shit- did that shadow move?! Bruce are you sure she’s human cause that was terrifying...ā€)

Long story short- Jason Todd doesn’t want to be a big brother. But God hates him and he now has 4 little siblings.

i want this, has anyone written this?

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flamie-42

Alternate universe bsd where Dazai finds the book like Beast. He doesn’t know Chuuya but when he sees all the other universes that they are ā€œfreindsā€ (madly in love with eachother) he decided ā€œI gotta go find this loserā€

Dazai: hi is your name Chuuya?
Chuuya: *confused* who the fuck are you
Dazai: I’m your lover in millions of alternate universes
Chuuya: *punches him in the face*
Dazai: *in love* I understand my alternate selves <3
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inoreuct
Anonymous asked:

what if, and hear me out: sanji one day grabs zoro's hand so they could run together away from some bad guy and zoro develops a dreadfully deep seated longing to hold sanji's hand (when he's not cooking ofc). it drives him insane. he cant sleep. sanji's hand is so Soft. Why??? Why does he want to feel it again??? he wants to yell into the sunset

they're sprinting through the streets, skidding into random alleyways and falling over each other as they try to outrun whoever's chasing them and sanji's laughing, head thrown back and eyes blue as the damn sky, his hair in absolute disarray. he's beautiful and his hand is warm and slim and strong around zoro's and it hits zoro like a fucking bullet to the heart.

the memory haunts him like a particularly persistent ghost. he closes his eyes and all he can think about is sanji's fingers laced with his, lightly calloused, nails filed down to a perfect glossy sheen and skin butter-smooth from the hand cream that the cook is so adamant about using. his laugh rings in zoro's ears like the echo of a bell, merry, taunting— the swordsman is half-sure he’s losing his mind. he is one more restless night away from climbing to the top of the main mast and hollering until he scares seagulls up into the air.

as it turns out, he does not go seagull scaring. he carries on and keeps an iron grip on his self-control and acts like nothing’s wrong, because nothing’s wrong! it’s all fine! it’s all fine, who, him? peachy fuckin’ keen.

…yeah, right.

sanji’s fingertips brush his and he nearly drops the plate he’s just taken. the cook hip-checks him out of the way and he damn near chokes on a breath. they spar and he almost dies, not just because of everything, but also because sanji gets his thighs around zoro’s neck in a chokehold and zoro just gives up. throws in the proverbial towel. he doesn’t even try to get out of it.

strong, slender fingers drag him by the ear back to the men’s cabin to pick up your fucking clothes, marimo, what is this? a pigsty? because it looks like one and it smells like one, do you really expect me to— and sanji cuts himself off, because zoro’s. picking up his clothes. he looks so bewildered at the lack of protest that zoro almost laughs, and he hides it by bending down to snag a pair of pants peeking out from under his bunk. (he decidedly does not laugh, because it has suddenly hit him that he’d probably do just about anything sanji asked him to. he might complain, sure, but he’d do it—

and that is a terrifying thought to entertain.)

the days carry on, and it doesn’t get any better; hell, zoro would say it gets so much worse. his heart seems to recognise every touch of sanji’s skin as cause to go absolutely fucking bonkers; chopper literally asks him if he has arrhythmia. it’s that bad. he tried to go to sleep and imagines sanji, one bunk up, in his bunk instead, his fingers tangled in flaxen hair, his free hand laced with sanji’s. he eats dinner and gets hit with a pang of desire to help with the dishes so strong that he almost stabs himself in the face with his fork. there is something wrong with him, he thinks profoundly, a familiar sense of gloomy dread spreading in his sternum as he rests his chin in his hand, like an oil spill marbled through with potent fondness.

they’re forced to get their shit together in the end but only because luffy manages to get them locked in the galley while franky is ā€œtoo occupiedā€ to get them out. (he isn’t. he’s sunbathing on the damn deck and absolutely in on the plan.)

zoro’s barely breathing as he goes up to sanji, eyes wild, and as soon as the cook looks at him he smacks a big fat kiss on his mouth and yells OKAY BYE. he’s seriously considering jumping out the window but someone snags his collar and yanks him back, pinning him in against the countertop.

ā€œand where do you think you’re going?ā€ sanji purrs, but it’s breathless. his eyes are sea-sky-sapphire blue, like the heart of a flame, and zoro is the stupid little moth that was too damn dumb to fly away when he could and now he’s in the thick of it and he’s burning up, smoke drifting like it always did from the tip of sanji’s cigarette.

the edge of the counter digs into his back. ā€œnowhere,ā€ he breathes, and it’s a lie and too much of the truth all at once. anywhere away from here. nowhere away from you. nowhere i can’t find you. nowhere you can’t follow.

sanji sucks in a trembling breath, electric eyes searching for something in zoro’s face, and he must find it because the next moment zoro’s being kissed within an inch of his life and the only thought in his head is yes, yes, yes. finally. yes.

they walk out red-faced, hair mussed, clothes twisted, avoiding all eye contact and immediately darting off to opposite ends of the ship with mumbled excuses.

zoro’s mouth is kiss-bruised and his head is spinning. his hip aches where he’d banged into the edge of the table. his heart aches where he’s finally let go of the wound he’d been holding shut for ages because now it’s bleeding afresh and sanji hasn’t stitched it up yet.

(but that night, as he lays awake heavy-limbed and staring at the bottom of a bunk, long legs swing over the side. sanji drops down, angling himself to land on zoro with a soft oof.

they talk. it is easier, somehow, when they cannot see each other— but zoro knows those blue, blue eyes are on him. he feels them slip shut, lashes dragging against the pad of his thumb as he tilts sanji’s face for another kiss; softer, this time. gentle. a banked flame flickering in the hearth, warmth and not destruction.

they fit together like their hands do, puzzle-piece natural, and it feels like coming home. zoro hasn’t known home in a very, very long time.

he buries his face in silky, sweet-smelling hair and falls asleep with sanji’s pulse thrumming beneath his palm.

come morning, he wakes to find the sheets twisted around them, a dull ache blooming across his shin— sanji’s a kicker. being privy to this information delights him an unreasonable amount.

the cook stretches with a loud yawn, arms falling to rest around zoro’s neck as he rubs his socked feet together. ā€œcome make breakfast with me,ā€ he mumbles, the words muffled against zoro’s shoulder—

and zoro finally lets himself laugh, lets it bubble out of him like champagne, a rumble in his chest. ā€œsure, curly. five more minutes.ā€

he feels impossibly light. five minutes turn into ten, and ten into twenty. they both fall back asleep. their captain will have to settle breakfast himself for the day; their cook’s hands are, unfortunately, otherwise occupied.)

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