#= I'm faster now and I can't fail! (Self.) =

[brawltogethernow]

I would LOVE to hear your aro Hal thoughts if you don’t mind sharing?

[re:] (Sorry in advance there are absolutely no issue citations; I have saved so many pages in random places without labeling them.)

I don't know if I'd even call it having thoughts so much as having...an incomplete collection of Hal...saying things?

And having things said about him?

And he does this very familiar weasel jink when asked certain types of questions.

Like the general direction of authorial intent here is presumably that he's a ~playboy~ who ~can't be tied down~,

but we rarely see him...like...with anybody. He's an informed attribute playboy who's had a handful of onscreen flings that tend to be complete disasters with significantly less chemistry than a poorly measured baking soda volcano, and other than that there's Carol, who he's been failing to marry with high agitation for sixty-five years at this point. Like in cape comics it's standard for your obvious endgame A couple to take twenty or thirty years to get around to that, but sixty is excessive. Like even Alicia Masters and the Thing managed it faster and they kept getting put off because it stressed out too many Marvel writers to contemplate monsterfucking. (And other less comedic factors but this post isn't about that.)

And every time Hal tries to go steady with Carol he acts like he's dying, even though he clearly loves her and holds having her in his life in extremely high priority.

Like he is not enjoying a playboy lifestyle he doesn't want to give up. He has tried very hard to settle down several times, but he always panics and bolts at the last second like someone who's run out of the willpower¹ to keep holding onto an electrified rod--except when he's rescued by deus ex machina.

¹Ha.

And it's also pretty evident that he hates himself for this and doesn't understand why he can't pass this standard life milestone, or why he keeps hurting Carol, his favorite person, trying and failing to do what they think you're supposed to. He very blatantly views his romantic failures as something that let down other people and "improving" as a sacrifice he's supposed to make for them.

When his desires come into it it's primarily in the context of him gaslighting himself about how he totally wants the things he's supposed to that won't disappoint people, definitely definitely for real this time.

As seen above, romantic success for Hal is often conflated with retiring from being Green Lantern to inject cheap drama and insert a built-in inevitable failure, framing him as staying single because he's "married to the job". This barely ever made sense but was already downright comedic by the, I want to say late 70's?, where Carol was in on the secret identity and John and Katma were pulling off extremely successful GL/GL dating in the same book. At this point it's complete nonsense, so writers have been pulling harder on framing Hal as a disorganized man-child with commitment issues who's just sort of arbitrarily rendered undateable by being a committed superhero, something which, although it's a classic source of drama, has not hindered any of DC's other characters to this degree this consistently.

In conclusion: This aro man does not know what aromanticism is despite being one degree of separation from Connor Hawke, which is ruining his life and his ability to have any self esteem. Him and Carol desperately need someone to tell them what queerplatonic relationships are so they can stop doing these wretched I'm-not-touching-you kisses.

#EverybodyDislikedThat

Also he's been dressing up as the aromantic flag since 1959. Okay now I'm done.

[autisticsupervillain]

Autistic Avatars not realizing that they're Avatars because they're just "like that": a thread

The Eye

Special Interest in the supernatural = constant food for The Watcher

You know about Interest? TELL ME EVERYTHING

"Hey man listen to me infodump about this horrifying ghost story I read for twenty minutes, alright?"

I need to Know everything about something before I partake in it.

"How did I Know that? Eh, I probably hyperfixated on it at some point."

I cannot be misunderstood so I'll beam the facts into your brain.

The Web

I must plan everything 200 steps in advance before doing anything.

I have prepared for all possible outcomes, I can now have this one conversation.

If I set up all these variables long in advance, then I can do everything correctly and Win the social interaction.

I cannot do anything before The Plan says to.

"I practice my social skills by talking to my spider friends." -Martin "Autism" Blackwood

The Stranger

I cannot socialize without being Uncanny.

If my socialization seems like an act, that's because it is. I practice it in the mirror every day.

Theater Kid

How do you Normal Human?

The Anatomy Class.

Assuming fellow Stranger Avatars also just have the 'Tism. They're not trying to be creepy, honest.

Can't do faces. Doesn't notice when you get replaced.

Being subtly off is too subtle for me.

The Lonely

"I have failed the social interaction. Let the fog reclaim me."

Talking to people is draining my batteries even faster than ever. I need to be alone for approximately 384,400,000 years.

Nothing can overstimulate me in the cool, blinding fog.

Nothing unpredictable can happen in the fog.

The fog is your friend.

The known connection between autism and depression feeds the fog.

The Dark

Why is the sun so god damn bright? I'm going to blow it up I swear.

Night Owl.

Everything's decently quite at night and people leave you alone.

Same overstimulation preventatives as the Lonely tbh. Dark and fog are good concealers.

The dawn is your enemy.

The dread florescent lights shall never bother me again. They break upon my arrival.

Can and will infodump to the monster under my bed. Even now it feels like it listens.

The Spiral

Autism makes getting other mental illnesses recognized hard.

Autism dissociation from body and mind. When did it become 3 AM and why do I hurt? Why am I grumpy? What vital self care task did I forget?

Literal mind doesn't often match reality. Reality is specifically unspecific.

Spaced out and wandered off. Where the fuck am I?

I'm not a mental baby, please stop treating me like it.

I'm not inherently dangerous, please stop treating me like it.

Memory problems my beloathed. Did that happen? I dunno.

What Is Time?

What Is Me?

The Gender

Why do things only make sense to me? What does no one else make sense?

The Flesh

Autism Genderfuckery = Flesh fueled dysphoria.

Meat is the only texture that's palatable. Especially the Mystery Meat.

Will never try any other foods. Too picky.

Infodumps about the horrors of meat processing at dinner and ruins the meal for everyone. More steak for me.

Hates PETA.

Double the arms means double the stim. You weren't using them, right?

Working out is a great stim.

The Corruption

Practices social interaction with the bugs who live in my walls.

"Insects are disgusting. I love them!"

Will protect endangered insects by any means necessary.

According to all known laws of aviation-

Relationship boundaries struggles.

Difficulty noticing sickness symptoms.

Is that nausea or am I overstimulated? *Accidentally causes supernatural plague outbreak*

Difficulty getting diseases diagnosed because of both Autism and noticing too many symptoms so the doctors assume they're faking.

Forgot vital hygiene needs.

The Bugs Are My Friends! They keep me company when I'm sick!

The Buried

Weighted blankets are insufficient, I need the Earth to reclaim me.

Avoid social interaction by tunneling everywhere like a mole.

101 facts about worms.

Forgor hygiene again. Time to become dirt.

Digging a hole is good stimming.

That guy who had to be buried alive to sleep properly. What do you mean you don't want to be buried?

The End

Aradia Megido from Homestuck.Com

That's it, that's the list.

The Desolation

The Autism Temper.

Losing relationships and friendships to ableism and your own disability constantly.

The Fire is a wonderful stim board. Watch it crinkle.

Just watching candles melt for hours.

The fire and thrill gives my life passion again.

Jude Perry.png

The Vast

Accidentally terrifying people by infodumping about the horrors of nature.

The stimulus of falling.

Nature/Space/Weather Documentary on in background always.

Okay, but from how high did you fall? I want to calculate your velocity as you fell through the void.

Weirdly enough... power scaling?

Power scaling is just the art of determining how easily your favorite characters can destroy mankind so... yeah, I can see it.

Brain empty, only terminal velocity.

The Hunt

Cat Autism

The inherent hyperfocus of the hunt. The chase. Your prey.

Studying the habits of your latest hyperfixation/Hunt assigned prey for days at a time.

I've spent so much time hunting in the woods that I forgot about human society. The Missing Person's Bureau have written you off for dead.

Returning to society to sell your wears and realizing you aren't human anymore.

That's okay. Social interaction is random. The Hunt makes sense.

It's black and white. Predator and prey. Humans hunting monsters. It Makes Sense.

The Slaughter

The incredible human WW1 documentary.

"Did you know?" *Describes horrible historic warcrime*

Takes apart puts back together guns from their collection.

The list of known casualties from this war is incomplete. With my help, they can expand it. :)

The Extinction

The world is spiraling towards its end and only you seem to care.

It hurts to be this passionate about a lost cause.

You Will Make Them Care.

[lemon-russ]

primarchs trying to accommodate for human frailty and getting it wrong. Leman russ thinks you will die of cold when it’s one degree outside so drops a bunch of blankets on you. Sanguinius fussing over a scratch. The lion thinks you’re dying because you’re on your period

yesssss good thank you, I wrote Lion because I haven't done him much and I think him being any sort of worried is funny.

Lion El'Jonson x Gn!Reader

“Lion, I'm fine-” you repeat, being carried unusually gingerly in his arms towards the Medicae.

He grumbles, scowling down at you with a furrowed brow. “You can't know anything of the sort. Your brain is probably irreparably damaged, and now you are even less intelligent than before.” He gruffed.

You'd made the apparently grievous mistake of tripping and bumping your head off a table. You have a small bruise on your forehead, and felt fine. It was barely a bump.

But Lion watched it happen with the same expression you imagine he'd have if he watched you be torn asunder by demons in front of him. It was actually incredibly disconcerting to witness, as you've never otherwise seen him emote more than annoyance, or at his happiest, neutrality. (Including in the bedroom. A nonplussed look and a smack on the ass was all you received as a “good job” before he'd leave without a word.)

He had moved faster than your baseline eyes could track to scoop you off the floor, and rushed off toward the medicae to “get brain scans” and “stop the bleeding before it was too late”, he'd informed you between insults to your ability to walk across a flat floor and lack of self preservation.

You sigh and gently poke at the bruise. It wasn't even a bump, it barely hurt. Lion growled a deep rumble from his chest, the noise rattling through your body pressed against him, and quickly tugged your hand to your side.

“Stop prodding it. You're probably poking yourself right in the brain. It's like you want to become more helpless and weak.” He snapped, the arm carrying you squeezing you slightly closer to his chest.

He slams a hand against the door control for the medicae, and strides right passed the shocked and confused personnel, walking you back to an empty bed and placing you on your back with a gentleness you've never seen from him, as if he's afraid you'll shatter if he touches you wrong.

He whirls on the baffled medics. “Well? Can't you see they're grievously injured?” He snaps, voice carrying the full force of his authoritative tone. The medics all jump, rushing to examine you, then exchanged confused looks between themselves and your body as they examine you.

“I- um- my Lord, there doesn't seem to be anything….?” One nervously says, looking you over.

He grumbles a noise, pointing at your barely formed bruise. “Useless! Is this the best my legion offers for its baselines? Obviously I'm talking of the gaping head wound!” He snarls.

The medics all share a long, drawn pause, gazes slowly following his gesture to your forehead. They all seem to have it click at once, and scurry to work.

“Apologies my Lord-” the head medic stammers, looking a bit confused still but clearly valuing his head being attached to his shoulders. “We didn't mean to miss such a- a serious injury…” he says, ordering the surrounding medics to prepare various brain scans.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and slumping back against the pillows. Lion just huffs with annoyance. “See to it.” He growls, plopping himself on chair next to your bed, making it groan under his weight. “I'm going to be watching every step so you can not fail further.” He grumbles. Giving you a sideways glance, then looking pointedly away from you, he slowly places a large, warm hand on your arm. You raise a brow, but say nothing, having to hold back a smirk less he sulk off in embarrassment.

He pouts, still glaring at the wall. “… be comforted.” He commands, tone softer than you'd ever heard. You can't hold back the chuckle that escapes, making him glare at you sharply, still pouting. “Ah. Delirium. This is where it starts.” He says sadly, patting your arm. “I shall… notice your absence…” he mumbles gravely. He only shakes his head sadly when that only makes you laugh harder.

[mypoisonedvine]

you could do a drabble about Jonathan Crane...a continuation about a drabble that he helps his patient with his sexual health problems, but now instead of observing he participates 👀 and Reader doesn't want to but does want to 🫠 I love your content, I'm so happy you're back.💜

seems like a perfect continuation to this c: HOW did it turn out so long lmaoooo 18+ ONLY OF COURSE

length: nearly 2k

warnings: noncon/heavy dubcon, abuse of power/manipulation, medical kink, praise kink, pain kink (at least on his part lol)

"How will I know when I'm ready?" you asked hesitantly. "For... sex?"

He smiled, very very slightly, and did that annoying therapist thing where he answered your question with a question. "What do you think are signs that you're ready for that step?"

You sighed, noticing how he'd flipped it back on you (he explained before why he did that-- because his job was to guide you to personal growth rather than just tell you what to do-- but you still wished sometimes it could be more simple) and tried to think about how to answer his question. "I guess... desire, would be a good sign."

"It would certainly help," he laughed lightly. "It's hard to feel much pleasure during something that feels like a chore. Have you?"

"Hm?"

"Have you experienced any desire for or interest in sex lately?" he asked.

Suddenly feeling a bit flushed, you looked away from him and rubbed the back of your neck. "O-oh, uh... I-- I guess that depends on what you consider--"

"So you have," he interrupted, smirking a bit, and you glanced at him before looking down at the floor with a nervous laugh. "I suspected as much."

"Because I brought it up today?" you assumed.

"No, for quite some time," he responded. "Weeks ago."

You blinked quickly, wondering how he could've noticed something like that. "Oh, did I... say something?"

"It's what you don't say," he explained, looking at you with a bit more darkness in his eyes. "It's what goes without saying."

You knew that he knew, but you weren't strong enough to admit it yet. "Wh-what do you mean, Dr. Crane?" you asked, playing dumb and hoping helplessly that it would work.

He sighed and shut his notebook, setting it aside and tilting his head a bit as he looked at you. "What do you think I'm referring to?" he asked.

You scoffed, seeing an opportunity to change the subject. "You know I can't stand it when you do that... you should just answer my questions," you decided.

"Yes, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he smirked. "Simply being told what to do."

You shuddered at the way his voice changed... and his stare, too, it seemed to rake over you. Even though you weren't sure if he was really asking, you found yourself nodding.

"Say it, out loud," he insisted.

"I want you to... to tell me what to do..." you mumbled nervously, "Dr. Crane..."

He smiled, wider than probably you'd ever seen on him and your gaze followed him as he stood up. "I'm glad you've finally admitted it," he said softly, stepping closer to you until his form towered over you as you sat on the couch-- your heart beat faster as you arched your neck to look up at him, swallowing thickly. "Dilated eyes, elevated heartrate, tightly crossed legs-- yes, I noticed all the signs of desire in you. You want me to help you with your aversion, yes?"

"Well, of course, but--"

He leaned down and held your chin softly in his hand, making your words fail into a whimper. "I think you'll experience much faster progress this way," he explained. "You'll do as you're told?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your ears, but you nodded slightly; you couldn't exactly say 'no' now, could you?

And he wasn't wrong-- you'd thought about this, with him. But not literally this. You just thought he was attractive, and though he was the one who told you to touch yourself daily at home to desensitize your mind and increase your libido, you never admitted in your self-reports that you were usually thinking about him.

But you weren't thinking about him as your doctor. You were thinking about him as some other person, who just happened to look like that. And though, in your mind, he always took charge... this felt strange in all the wrong ways.

He didn't quite force you down, he just guided you-- but it wasn't gentle, either. It ended up with you laying back on his couch, the decorative throw pillows supporting your back and keeping you half-upright as Dr. Crane slotted himself between your legs, running his hands over your body through your clothes.

He hummed a little, staring down at you in this greedy, voracious way that was totally unfamiliar. You whimpered a little when his hands groped your breasts through your shirt. "Don't worry," he offered, as if it were that simple. "I told you to stimulate yourself like this each night... did you?"

"Yes," you breathed, "but, um... not so... not exactly like that."

"Show me, then."

Your hands were shaking as they took the place of his, and you thoughtlessly bit your lip as you squeezed yourself a little slower, a little gentler-- you both sighed when your fingers pinched your nipples slightly through your clothes.

He reached down to your waist, sliding his hands up under your shirt. His touch on your bare skin was... unexpected, to say the least. His hands were warm, which was a relief, but you still felt shivers run all over you as his fingers delicately moved up your sides. Under your shirt and bra, he cupped your breasts as your own hands fell away. "Like this?" he mimicked your touches, only without the barriers; and even though it made your stomach flip, you couldn't deny that what he was doing felt better than it ever had when you did it to yourself.

Not wanting to admit that to him, though, you just bit your lip harder and nodded.

Just when you started to get somewhat comfortable with-- or at least used to-- what he was doing, he pushed up your clothes to your collarbones, exposing your chest to his lascivious gaze.

"O-oh," you blurted out at the rush of cool air, at the way he stared down at you with an open, hungry mouth-- which he then suddenly latched onto one of your hardened nipples. "Oh!" you whimpered, hips rocking up against him unintentionally when he suckled hard at the sensitive bud.

He wasn't subtle about it, or all that gentle, but it wasn't too much. Thought it was certainly much more intense than you expected.

He hummed against your skin, and you continued to shake uncontrollably beneath him; it was a raw and aggressive sort of pleasure, his tongue and teeth constantly stimulating you, each movement making your pussy clench inside. He'd always told you to be slow and careful with yourself, to even tease and edge yourself if you could... apparently he didn't practice what he preached.

Apparently he didn't need to. You could tell that you were soaking your panties already. Your head was spinning; how the fuck was this actually happening?!

His mouth moved to your other nipple, his fingers tweaking the one still slick from his thorough treatment. He tilted his head, and you regretted glancing down to look at him latched into you like that. This was your doctor, your psychiatrist... you knew it was wrong, you weren't that naive. But you were apparently too stupid to figure out how to stop this.

When he broke away, he grinned up at you. "You're so sensitive here," he purred, "what other places have you found, hm? Those little spots that make your toes curl?"

It must have been a rhetorical question, because he was already pushing your skirt up to your waist. You shivered, feeling that familiar anxiety swell in your chest, but you tried to keep it down. Even if this wasn't at all how you imagined it, you did want to be done with this, to finally say you were able to move past your fear. Maybe this was just as good as any other way-- to just get it over with.

But you had to take a deep, shaky breath when his fingers hooked into your panties... gently pulling them down your thighs-- or in this case, up your thighs, since your legs were forced up and apart by his body between them.

He purred at the sight of you-- or maybe just when he saw how wet you were, but he got the feeling he already knew.

"Very good," he praised, and you sucked in a sharp breath. "You look ready."

Your eyes went wide as he sat himself back a bit, his hands hastily working on his belt and fly; you didn't want to watch him do this, but you couldn't seem to look away.

If your eyes were already wide, then they must have nearly popped out when he opened his trousers and pulled his cock out.

"I-it's too--" you blurted out instantly, scooting back on the couch a bit, recoiling away. "Dr. Crane, you're too--"

"What?" he asked innocently, though it was terribly unconvincing.

"It's too big," you whispered, and he laughed lowly.

"Don't worry about that," he sighed as he leaned down over you again, sliding himself between your slick lips with a groan. "You-- fuck-- you won't have any trouble. My god, you're soaking me already..."

He seemed pretty distracted, and wholly unbothered with your hesitance. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, but you couldn't seem to soothe-- especially not when he guided his head right up to your entrance. "W-wait," you stammered suddenly, moving your hips back, "I'm not-- I'm not ready."

"I think it's time for me to make that decision for you," he said firmly. "If you never challenge yourself, you'll never overcome this."

"But I'm not--!" you began, cut off by his hand covering your mouth. There was a ferocity in his glare as he watched your face, studying the changes in your expression carefully as he penetrated you.

As you had feared, his size was an issue. Even dripping wet, you had to stretch to accommodate him... it had been years since you took anything bigger than your own two fingers. He'd had you buy a relatively thin, 'ergonomic' (as the packaging stated) vibrator to insert in yourself at home, but you'd gotten too nervous and couldn't get it in past the first inch. He told you it was all in the mind, and you thought he was right at the time, but this felt physically impossible. And it just kept going.

You whined, nearly screamed, behind his hand, and he groaned in your ear with hot and heavy breaths.

"You can take it," he assured, sliding in deeper, "you can take my cock. It's going to fit... one way or another."

You sighed with relief when his hips were flush with yours; you were shaking, a thin layer of cold sweat all over you like you'd gone through some awful thing. But it wasn't over-- it had only just begun.

"Fuck," he grunted, starting to pull back and push into you all over again. "I know it hurts now... but you'll get used to it."

At first, you thought he meant just now-- that your body would relax and adjust, which it did eventually. But that wasn't what he meant, exactly. He meant something much more long-term, if not permanent; he meant that soon enough, you would be all too comfortable being his to use.

[adhd-riddled-crow]

✨️ Tidbit Tuesday ✨️

I wrote some more of The Decision ™️ (chose Minrathous or Treviso) scene after putting it off (idk why but I don't like the dialogue from the game, and how it doesn't really fit (except some of Lucanis' lines) with what I have established previously in the fic) but I'm slowly getting back into it again!

So don't panic! You'll see more of Velasco and Lucanis (and Spite) in no time <3

I'm just gonna tag some lovely people (friends, really 🫶) who I think would want to see some sad but cute Lucanis moments: @dragonagegayz @whispersleo @alystrin03

That being said, here's what I've cooked this morning (and some at the beginning from before):

They don't make it very far off the dock before Rook hears the familiar sound of Neve's metal leg clinking upon the rough terrain of the crossroads.

Rook looks up at the sound and sees both her and Lucanis. Both of them tense in stature and clear panic spreading throughout their bodies.

"Rook!" Neve shouts, securely grabbing his attention.

"What's wrong?" Rook now starts to panic. His breathing grew faster.

"A lot. The Viper just sent word. Minrathous is under attack by a blighted dragon." The sheer amount of emotions she was experiencing in such a short time caused her voice to waver. A furrow creasing between her brows from underneath her veil.

"It has to be the one we saw at D'Meta's Crossing." Velasco said, looking at Bellara as she came to a stop behind Neve and Lucanis.

"Well, one of them has to be. At least." Bellara added, catching her breath from her attempt at catching up with them.

"What do you mean, 'one of them'?" Davrin cut in from behind Rook, his eyebrows arched in surprise. Assan had returned to his side, hiding behind his legs like a curious cat.

"Teia got in touch, too. Another dragon is attacking Treviso as well."  The pain at the thought alone of his home being attacked by a dragon of all things, and a blighted one at that, was seeping through his words like squeezing water from a sponge.

"Fuck." Velasco muttered under his breath.

"You got back just in time, Rook." Bellara said, a worrisome look in her brown eyes.

Rook's mind was working overtime, the looming stress of this situation weighing his thoughts down. "This can't be a coincidence. Two dragons, at once? Were there any mentions about the gods? Anything?"

"Not much, unfortunately. Sorry Rook. All we know for certain is that the dragons are involved." Bellara helpfully answers his questions, "And if it's anything like before, when the gods were nearby. They would surely be here as well."

"Velasco. You know Treviso as much as I do. It has no defences. If we don't stop that dragon, people will die. Innocent people. Our people." Lucanis pleads, stepping forwards, closer to Velasco but still far enough away that they weren't touching, "If they don't die from that dragon then they'll only die a slow death from the Blight in the water." He crossed the self-imposed line he'd formed between them, now standing closer to Velasco than he had been in days, holding his gaze with an ever saddening look. Those big brown eyes staring deeply into Velasco's own. He pleaded with him as if there was a possibility that he wouldn't choose to save their home. "We have to go to Treviso."

"What? And leave Minrathous to burn?" Neve asks, anger bubbling behind her words.

Lucanis breaks his hold on Velasco's eyes, turning his body to look at Neve with a guilty look, "Neve..."

"We're the only ones keeping the Venatori in check. And if we fail? The Venatori will take advantage of the destruction and push for the throne. And no doubt, hand the gods the entire Tevinter Empire." Her emotions were getting the better of her, the stress of possibility that her home could be taken over by a seemingly unstoppable force only fueling her anger more.

Rook goes to open his mouth, to say anything to her that might calm her down or at least lessen the tension between her brows, but Neve was having none of it. The stubbornness of this mage was unwavering, "Damn it! We don't have time for this. I need to be in Minrathous." So she storms off in the direction of the Dock Town Eluvian.

[nameuserlee]

“Are you curious about the secrets buried underneath?”

You guessed it, it's another compilation of interesting lines I've gathered from interacting with Sylus at the café. Part 2 (links back to part 1.)

“Do you like my voice? Then you should hear me sing. I'll let you experience it sometime.”

“I'm used to shaving with a razor. It's easier.”

“Seeing you with the sunrise makes the sunlight bearable.”

“You keep poking [my chest]. Are you aiming for my heart? Or are you trying to capture it?”

“Are you trying to match my heartbeat's rhythm? I suggest you go faster.”

“And here I wondered who could possibly approach me with such aggression. It ended up being a wild, untamable Dragon Li.*”

“I'd rather take the initiative.”

“Actually, I dislike having people stand behind me. It makes me feel vulnerable. I gave you a chance... And you did this?”

“Allow me to warn you, sweetie. Suddenly hugging me from behind can be dangerous. If I hadn't seen you coming, you'd be lying on the ground and counting the ceiling lights right now.”

“I had more waist injuries than I can count. But I made sure those people paid for what they've done before those wounds had yet healed.”

“...Why are your hands shaking? I'm not terrifying, right?”

“You don't need to be on guard around me all the time. I'll tell you in advance when I make a move.”

“You're pouting to the point where a gun could hang from your lips. How long have you been upset? If you're upset, let me know. I'm here for whatever you need me to do.”

“People tend to make themselves more beautiful when looking in the mirror. So to know your true self, relying solely on what you see isn't enough.”

“Many were determined to find what they wished to see in me. And they failed. But I believe you'll be the first one to succeed, (Y/N).”

“What's the point of sneaking around to only touch it? Come here. Take my hand. Tightly hold onto it. That way the person in front of you won't be able to escape even if he wanted to.”

“Your fingerprints have been registered. You have complete access to this area now. Aren't you going to do something?”

“Are you really not going to do anything to me when you're standing right here? What a shame.”

“What, did you discern anything from my eyes? On the other hand, I noticed something about you... Something you're unwilling to admit.”

“There are many desires in your eyes. The most obvious one is... Your desire to tame me.”

*For those who were unaware like me, Dragon Li is a cat breed. Meow.

First line made me cackle, because by now we've already established he can't sing, bless his heart. Also, the shaving line... Can you imagine him with a bit of stubble? And his scratchy kisses? No? Anyone?

Also also, he really doesn't like being exposed/feeling vulnerable. Him talking about past injuries, disliking having his back turned... He's been stabbed in the back too many times. I'm bad at theory crafting, so I'm gonna leave it at that.

Anyways, this is really satisfying to put together. I want to know everything there is to know about this man. He has been consuming my every thought, and this is a way to (somewhat) get him out of my system.

[shellswritesstuff]

hi, hear me out. johnny with a s/o he meets at wu shi? like they are also a part of the earthrealm gang. THANK YOU!

(YES. OKAY OKAY I SEE THE VISION. I loooove the idea of reader being part of the main group, if you want more lmk,, id love to expand on this.)

Johnny Cage/Reader - Wu Shi Romance (HCS!) (SFW.)

𖦹 When you first arrived at the Wu Shi Academy, you felt at peace. A bit hopeful for the fights to come. You were eager to meet your teammates, those who would take on such a task to defend Earthrealm must be great people.

𖦹 You were right! For the most part...

Kung Lao, Kenshi, and Raiden were all here on their own volition. Their own personal missions and reasons for being here were noble, and you respected them. A friendship would soon blossom.

𖦹 And then there was Johnny Cage. Movie star, model, self-proclaimed 'sexy pants.' Being from Earthrealm, you knew exactly who he was. You've heard quite a bit too.. some things worse than others. 𖦹 You were a fan! Johnny's movies were some of your favorites, and now you get to meet the guy. You were excited to train in the same place as him, maybe even learn a thing or two!

𖦹 All of this was true... until he opened his mouth.

"Well hello there, pretty lady." Johnny waltzed up to you with what was either confidence or stupidity. (You'd soon come to know it was a mix of both.) "I know you're new here and all.." He raised his left arm, flexing for you.

"So, if you're ever in need of a sparring partner.." A mental note to kick his ass was taken. "...I'd be a luckiest man in the academy to get my hands on you."

This guy cant be for real right? The only way this could get any worse is if he... WINK! There it is. 𖦹 For next few months, you'd be training under Liu Kang. Spending just about all of your time with the team. (If you want more about their relationship developing lmk! I'm planning on making a drabble or maybe a slow burn!)

At first, Johnny's flirting was non-stop. Jabs between training sessions, compliments via passed notes during the monk's lectures, you name it - he's tried it. Though, his antics never failed to make you smile. It was harmless, and on days where you couldn't bare even your own company.. he was surpisingly... docile. (As well as he could be.)

𖦹 "I'm not feeling it today, Cage." You let out a huge sigh, adjusting your wrist wraps. "I'd give anything to have slept in. It's not my day, as I bet you can see." That morning, Liu Kang had you all run around Wu Shi, only stopping to do various fights. You'd felt sick from the moment you woke up, if you can call little sleep you've had rest.

Johnny had caught up to your speed, running beside you. He had said some pun about how we're 'running' out of time before the tournament. You'd at least cringe and maybe even laugh, but he only got a huff in reply. You thought he'd poke you some more, add to the impending migraine coming your way. Much to your surprise, he just ran faster.

"OH!" He collapsed to the ground, catching the attention of a few passing monks. "OH THE HUMANITY! I THINK I MAY HAVE.." Johnny winked at you before grasping his side. "PULLED A HAMMY! THIS.. THIS IS IT FOR ME.. OH IF ONLY SOMEONE WOULD HELP ME." He reached out his hand for dramatic effect as people surrounded him.

The training drill was swiftly cancelled for the day.

After dinner that night, you found yourself at 'injured' Johnny's door.

"Knock knock." You made your presence known as you slid open the sliding door. "Feeling better after pulling that hammy?" Johnny sat up with ease, meeting your gaze as you leaned against the partition. "Learned that in Hollywood?"

"Who said I can't act, huh?" He grinned, pretending to shove dust off his sleeves. "More importantly, are you feeling better?"

𖦹 From that day on, you two would gradually grow closer. Sitting next to each other for breakfast and dinner, and even partnering up for sparring. He'd still insist on going easy on you, but after a few ass kicking later, Johnny would learn not to underestimate you.

(I have SOOO much to say, so I'll make this a two parter! Thank you soooo much for reading and my ask box is open!!)

[littletroggo]

thank you for 200 202 followers!!

so the big two hunge huh...

i've been busy getting back into the flow with school that i didn't notice... but there are 200 of you now. it was 181 less than a week ago! i just WHAT???

i started posting more last may because i thought "eh why not." i absolutely did not expect this. seriously! most of you know my art for the cute or silly clone sketches, but that came about because i wanted to draw faster and didn't feel like drawing every little detail on tech's armor (yes it was specifically tech)

i've had a long and complicated relationship with my art, and to think it'd be noticed by even one person, surprises me. i said it in my last ramble, but i'm so used to fangirling over all my favorite artists. i know the squealing, the excitement. which is why i still can't comprehend that that's how some of you feel. there are some of you who SAVE MY ART. there are some of you who LOOK FORWARD TO IT. there are some of you who USE MY ART! that's wild to me! seriously, all of you are so kind. i'm not kidding when i say i hoard the sweet and funny comments like a dragon. it never fails to make melt whenever i see something about how my art makes you happy or brightens your day. same goes for the jokes! i've laughed until my ribs hurt from so many of them. it's really hard for the inner demons (self doubt) to have a say when there's all this support

man, there's so much i wanna put to words, but i don't know how. like all my emotions are bubbling over, and i'm scrambling to scoop them up into something discernible. saying thank you just doesn't feel like enough considering how often i respond with it. but what else could i say?

genuinely, whether you've been lurking or responding to almost everything, thank you. i respond with it so often because i mean it. i'll never be able to fully put to words how much it means to me <3

-ting

(p.s. the celebration event will go up tomorrow because i thought i'd have more time to solidify it)

[hauntinglyhaunted]

Creepypasta Headcanons!

(Jeffery Woods, Eyeless Jack, Toby Rogers.)

Starting off with our crispy himself!

Jeffery Woods:

I actually believe he'd be moderately okay with self care (with the exception of showering, because he's gross 🧍)

Like, he def keeps different kinds of lotions to help hydrate his burn scars (I'm projecting ikik) and has a variety of different scents.

I actually think he doesn't have a strict preference for what kind of music he listens to, but tends to listen to heavy metal or older emo music.

Def listens to ICP. You can't change my mind.

I actually heavily headcanon him as someone that'll pick at his skin, specifically the skin on his fingers/hands. It's a bad habit that he has tried (and failed) to shake off.

Drinks monster/energy drinks like its WATER.

He's the type of guy to point at someone's concert shirt and ask them to name 3-5 songs

Eyeless Jack:

Out of any of the pastas, I believe he'd be the best when it comes to self care-- Considering the idea of him originally wanting to be a surgeon.

Carries hand sanitizer with him EVERYWHERE.

I believe he has a habit of over washing his hands and is constantly using hand sanitizer.

He has sensitive hearing from his heightened senses, so I believe he'd keep earplugs on him 24/7

Tried to prepare organs like someone would a sandwich, he regretted that.

The type of guy that doesn't pick up on humor. You quote something online around this guy and he'll just take it as you being dead serious.

Tried to eat human food so he could feel "normal" again, but it made him sick. Still tries it every now and then, but it can result in him just curled up on the floor. Think of how some people that are lactose intolerant will still eat dairy (you know who you are 🙄)

In some med schools, it's actually preferred to know a second language (that could also just be where I live, so 🚶) and I actually believe he knows bits of Spanish.

Parts of his life before the sacrifice is actually a major blur for him, it's like looking through a fog for him.

Hates the smell of mint.

I feel like he mainly uses echolocation. Or if he could "see" anything, it would probably be like seeing the temperature of something

Example:

Bro constantly cold. It could be the middle of July and he'd probably be LAYERED up. Long sleeves, hoodies, etc.

Toby Rodgers:

Chews. His fingers, the scar on his cheek, dead skin on his lips, he just chews.

Unironically wears socks and sandals

Due to high levels of stress, I like to think he'd have white steaks/patches in his hair. :]

Tried to give himself a piercing once, it didn't work out. It scarred.

Either Midwest emo or grunge, you can't change my mind!

Has listened to the front bottoms (father...) and the mountain goats.

Listens to Nirvana sometimes. 👏

Due to his trauma, he prefers to not drive or ride in the passenger seat. He either forces himself to sleep or zones out SOOOO hard.

Since he can't go get his hair cut professionally for obvious reasons, some of his hair is uneven since he doesn't know how to cut it properly.

Toby doesn't like sweetened coffee, he either drinks it black or eats instant coffee because "it works faster"

He regretted this.

Got my first ACTUAL post down! Hope you guys like it! Tried to keep it lighthearted since it's a starter. I take requests btw. :]

[softshuji]

Hanma is a little excessive.

He's a man of gestures and it's never not been known that he's the type to make grand entrances and exits, all flourishes and loud voices, big words and bigger actions. You like to think that's just how he is, bustling into your life to drag you along by the hand into the deep darkness of his world, that he's sharing it with you as a gift, himself and all the uncertainty he comes with.

You like it, you think of it often with trepidation when you wonder about how you can keep up with him, and if he might find someone who can run a little faster next to him, or whether he'll get tired of slowing down for your sake.

He never does and you find that, surprisingly, it never bothers him when you need constant reassurance, when you need praise and sweetness that he's more than happy to give because no matter what, you're under the assumption that you're a lot to deal with, Despite how often he'll try to convince you otherwise.

He likes to think he knows you by now, watched you change, the occasional timidity he still likes that you feel less embarrassed by now, how much more willing you are to hang onto his arm after months and months of constant self doubt. It does come back, and he's quick to quash it, smooth words, a kiss to the back of your neck when you feel like whatever he says might be a lie. It never bothers him.

Most of all though, you're acutely aware that he makes you feel prettier than you believe you are. It's in the small actions mostly.

'Who is this pretty girl hm?' he says and runs his hands along your sides, a light squeeze of your hips as he bends down to lightly nose at your neck, your hair tickling his cheek as he pulls you flush to him.

It never fails to have the heat rising to your cheeks when he behaves like that, as if he needs you, when you're more than convinced you need him ten times as much, but perhaps if you believed in yourself more, you might be tempted to think the former was true.

'You like it?' you say and turn, your pelvis brushing his as he presses himself into you, as if he can fold the two of you together. 'I bought it with your card- I hope you don't min-'

'shhhhh, you can have whatever you want, card or no sweetheart.' And he gives you a smile, quiet, softened, his lips accented by the lick of fresh and creamy sunlight pouring in through the window. 'You're my Pretty Girl, I want you to have pretty things.'

You feel guilty still, as if you're using him somehow despite how freely he gives to you. And, like always, the tears come fresh when you hear him praise you so easily, so overtly. And, like always, he believes he's done something wrong to incur this.

'Princess?' he says, a hint of worry, panic lacing the edge of his voice, his grip faltering when he tilts your chin to face him, clear freshwater tears slipping onto your new dress.

'You make me feel pretty.' It sounds silly saying it out loud to yourself, finally where he can hear it, but you think it must be true for it to ache a little whenever he says it, as if it's the first time every time, as if he believes it wholeheartedly.

'What? I don't get it sweetheart.' And he shakes his head, confusion and incredulity, a softened hand coming to cradle your cheek.

'You always say it, you always tell me I'm pretty and beautiful.'

'Because you are, why wouldn't I say it? You're my pretty girl, of course I'll tell you it.'

Maybe he's baffled by it, this much time later, at how you still can't see it, how it still surprises you, how you don't believe it when it's not empty words to him.

'And you really mean it?'

'Of course Princess, I don't know where this is coming from. You're my pretty girl aren't you?' He does know actually, these bouts of insecurity he knows you haven't beaten, assuming it bothers him to need to give reassurance so often. But he's softer with you than he believes he's capable of and it never feels like a burden to reassure you of himself when you need it.

He knows you'd do the same, have done the same.

It takes coaxing and soothing again. 'Mhm, yeah I am,' you say, a little abated for now, an errant tear wiped by his thumb, his big hands that never feel anything less than safe, anything less than reassuring, enough for you to fall into every time.

'Good girl.' And when he holds you just like that, sunlight that spills over his curls, you think you believe him for the moment. That you're pretty, that you're beautiful, that you're his Princess now and always. You know the lingering thoughts are never far, that you'll be seeing them again soon.

But you also know, with just as much- if not more surety- that he'll be there to beat them back, to soothe, to fix and run his hands over you then too. To make you feel pretty again.

reblogs appreciated!

[topazadine]

Mistakes I Made When Self-Pubbing My First Book (Part 1: Mindset Edition)

Hello. Today, we are all going to dunk on me for my meteoric mistakes when self-publishing 9 Years Yearning so that you can do the opposite of these things.

This is going to be cut up into multiple posts because I just made so. many. mistakes. that I'm rectifying with my second book. Even Part 1 is extraordinarily long because damn am I a yapper, so keep an eye out for the equally long next parts.

And maybe console me by buying my book. (I promise it's not bad! My marketing strategy is!)

It's important to be transparent about this process. So many indie authors don't want to talk about their failures because it's uncomfy, and I get it. Yeah, it does suck to admit that you have failed and then expose your failures to other people. No one wants to feel bad about their efforts, especially something so personal like writing. Still, I think it can help anyway.

Can I give you actionable advice? No. I can't. I cannot give you a secret code to marketing success because I don't even know it.

BUT. I can tell you what I did wrong so you can figure out what to do right. (Then maybe tell me about it pls.)

Thinking being a good writer = book success

I am a good writer. Not the best writer on the entire planet, but more competent than your average squadron of monkeys armed with obsolete machinery. I could take at least 1,000 non-human primates in a writing fight - I'm sure of it.

However, this does not translate to immediate, life-changing results when self-publishing and marketing.

See, the unfortunate thing is that people actually have to know that your book exists, and they have to be tempted into purchasing it before they can see your remarkable writing skills.

This means that you need to have a good cover, an intriguing blurb and ... worst of all ... a marketing strategy.

Awful. But true.

Book writing and book marketing are two completely different skills. One of them is fun! And one of them makes me want to throw myself into a lake! But alas, if I want to enjoy some sort of compensation for the Fun Part, I have to do the Bad Part.

Being mad that I didn't get insta-results

I assumed that I would get my money back from my initial investment pretty quickly. After all, I wrote a very nice book. But I still have not broken even on 9 Years Yearning, and I will likely not do so until the third part of the Eirenic Verses series hits.

Actually, I may never break even at all. And I'm not even performing that poorly for a self-published author as of now.

The average self-published, digital-only book (like mine) sells only 250 copies during its entire lifetime, which can be literal decades. 250!! That's abysmal. Many self-published books sell ZERO copies. Ever.

That makes me feel a little better about saying that from June to October 2024, my first book has sold only 32 copies. That's about 12% of the expected lifetime sales in four months.

But 32 books is not, by any means, a best seller.

Though I will tell you a secret: some authors who make best seller lists actually buy their own books to artificially boost the numbers. Donald Trump did that actually! There are entire book laundering firms, like ResultSource, that are pay to play. And the NYT best seller list is heavily biased toward people with internal connections. So you can't even trust those best seller lists very much, and you shouldn't feel bad if you're only getting a handful of sales.

Regardless of whether other people lie their way to the top, the cold hard truth is that if I want to repay myself for my efforts on 9 Years Yearning, I need to sell about 1,500 copies (plus, oh, 20 extra for taxation).

That's a pretty scary number. 1,500 people have to like my book?! I don't even know that many people!

It's okay, though. My next book, Pride Before a Fall, will have a faster return on investment because it's priced a little higher at $2.99. So, for the second book, I only need to sell about 180 copies to break even. That is also because I didn't make as many dumb money mistakes, which I'll discuss in a later installment.

Very few self-published books gain instant attention and fame; many self-pubbed authors give up on advertising themselves at all because they didn't get a lot of success at first. But I'm not going to be deterred now that I realize I have to put the marketing work in.

It's up to you whether you're willing to keep grinding if you don't get immediate results.

Being lazy about learning marketing

I am still struggling with this, to be honest.

Look, I don't like marketing. The time I spend learning about marketing could be spent on something that does not make me want to tear my eyes out of their sockets. I could go rock climbing! I could watch a video on caving deaths! I could pet my dog!

So I've set a goal for myself that I just have to do one thing related to marketing a week. That could be creating visuals, reading other peoples' experiences, watching videos on it, taking courses, and so on.

It is not a lot of time spent per week, yes; perhaps about two hours. But it's about all I can stomach because it's just so boring and confusing to me.

After my first bitter disappointment, I have learned that it's okay to take a longer, more methodical approach, especially because The Eirenic Verses is a ten-part series. If I stay consistent, it will inevitably start to gain traction over time.

Ignoring the marketing potential in my friend group

I didn't really talk about my book with anyone but my family before publishing it. Didn't tell my friends, didn't post much about it on social media.

Instead, I dropped it like a dead squirrel on Facebook's feet a few days after it actually released. Thank god I didn't do the horrible Millennial "so ... I did a thing" bullshit, but I was almost too blithe about it.

I just don't want to feel like I'm bragging or making people feel obligated to purchase a copy. Which is kind of dumb of me, because people I know IRL have been super enthusiastic! I'm not even joking.

One of my newest friends purchased a copy directly in front of me and told their friends about it, so I got multiple sales just by mentioning it once. Old friends I've barely talked to in years reached out to tell me how much they loved my book and that they're so excited for me.

I learned that as long as I am not insufferable about it, most people are excited to hear that they are friends with a ~published author~. I've spent so long being immersed in Writing World that I kind of forget that to non-writers, publishing (even self-pub) is a big deal.

So I am learning to be more comfortable with talking about being an author as long as I don't act like I'm super special for clicking some keys.

Not celebrating my successes

This seems like a strange problem to have, but I can't be the only one who just kinda goes "meh" about their own achievements. Whether that's from poor self-esteem or Daddy Issues, idk, but I didn't really do anything when I released 9 Years Yearning. Didn't even get myself a cake.

I think this rubbed off on the people around me; after all, humans tend to follow one another's lead. Since I didn't treat it like a big deal at first, no one else did either. And this, of course, led to zero marketing juice because if even the author herself isn't pumped about the book, it must suck, right?

It doesn't suck. Again, I just suck at marketing myself.

So I'm forcing myself to be more enthusiastic about my next book, and to tell more people about it. I'm even getting a Bannain tattoo to celebrate the release.

Look at this stupid little idiot! I'm going to have him inked on me forever and ever <3

Given that I've gotten some decent pre-orders already (again, because I actually tried to fucking market this time), I think this more enthusiastic approach is going to serve me well.

The Thing I Did Right: Viewing my fiction writing as a money sink

Alright, so the one thing I have done correctly, which is that I did not make the fatal error of quitting my day job. I knew that my fiction writing was not going to be paying the bills any time soon. Instead, I view my job as a way to fund my Blorbo Factory.

It's not fatalistic to recognize that the odds are stacked against you as a self-pubbed author. It's realistic. You can either be delusionally confident that you will succeed, or you can be desperately demotivated and never bother.

Or you can be in the middle, see the risks, and decide that there is a deeper motivation than just making money that powers you.

Releasing the pressure of success actually makes it easier to succeed. If you are not hinging all your financial hopes and dreams on your books, then you don't see it as a loss to buy a nice book cover, pay for a good beta reader, and so on. You see it as an investment in your happiness and self-fulfillment, just like you spend money to go to the gym or buy a yourself an ice cream.

And, most importantly, you won't spend more money than you can afford to lose.

So many authors go into massive amounts of debt to fund their books and then are horrified to find that they make nothing back. A lot fall for vanity press scams and spend thousands only to have to do the same damn things I have to do as a self-pubbed author. And sometimes they never even see their book in print at all.

This could have been avoided if they had recognized that, just like when going to the casino, you shouldn't put yourself into debt in hopes of a big payday.

Anyway, now that I've told you about my marketing failures so you can avoid them, maybe you'll consider buying my book, 9 Years Yearning, which is very good despite my terrible marketing skills. It's got horses and cute boys!

And when you're done with that (it only takes about 2 hours to read, btw), be sure to pre-order the next book, Pride Before a Fall, which is arriving January 1, 2025!

Oh, and please don't forget to leave a review. Very important stuff.

I've been dodging calls from Amazon HQ who warn me that if I don't get more reviews, they'll place my children in a mushroomifier, whatever that means.

Oh ... oh no ....

[not-magdi]

Media Intern Pt.2

Summary: Having your first day at your dream club

Warnings: None

Words: 1.7k

A/N: I have no idea what should happen in the next part so any ideas would be very much appreciated 😂 (Please help me)

Part 1

Today was Y/N's first day at FC Barcelona, after jumping around in her apartment for half an hour with Carmen and getting a noise complaint from a few neighbors afterward. She read the email completely, which told her she had her first day next Monday at 3:00 p.m. having to be at the front desk of the media building which is next to Camp Nou. 

Monday came faster than she thought, believing she had enough time to get herself ready Y/N put it off until the last minute, her personal favorite way of dealing with things. 

Now standing before her wardrobe with a stressed-out look on her face she has no clue what she should wear for tomorrow overthinking everything relentlessly. Hearing a soft knock on her door and Carmen ask.

"Ey ... you decent?" 

"Come on ... that was one time, come in!", Y/N answers through the door continuing to look through her closet. 

Laughing Carmen comes in carrying two mugs of coffee for the two of them. " Just making sure, the one time was traumatizing enough" laughing Y/N throughs a pillow at her flipping her off. 

Grabbing her coffee she turns her gaze to her closet again, "Do you have any idea what I could wear tomorrow ... my mind's completely blank." Standing up Carmen walks up behind her laying her head on Y/N's shoulder. 

"Well it should be a little bit sporty, I would suggest skinny jeans but you swore off to those so how about black sports pants with something a little more classy?", Carmen suggests grabbing a black pair for her, thinking what she could wear to them. 

"Yeah ... how about that baby blue tee and a white oversized blouse as a jacket to make it a little bit more classy?" looking up at Carmen for approval she nods before realizing something. 

"Wait, do you mean MY white oversized blouse?" She asks Y/N, raising an eyebrow, "Maybe ...?" looking up at her with innocent eyes Y/N answers. 

"You already have it in your closet, don't you? 

"Nooo ... maybe ... ok yes, but you don't need it anyway you have like five of them." Y/N tries to defend herself but fails as she can't stop laughing at Carmen's face. 

"Ok ok enough you clothes stealing little dwarf, you need to go to sleep now ... big day tomorrow." Hugging her Carmen leaves Y/N's room taking the two empty mugs with her. Y/N sighs cleaning everything up a little bit before cuddling herself into her bed, trying to get some sleep.

"I think I'm going to throw up", pacing around before the media building Y/N looks up at Carmen with a stressed look on her face, "I'm going to make a fool of my self, no no let's go home " Rubbing her temples she turns towards the car again only to be caught by Carmen. 

"Nope ... you're not gonna quit, you're going to go in there and you're gonna rock it." dragging her back Carmen comes to a halt before the entrance. 

"14:50, perfect timing ... come on go in now you deserve to be here. Use that little brain of yours and fascinate them like you did with me." hugging her a last time she shoos her into the building. 

"Ok Y/N you're gonna smash that, deep breaths" Hyping herself up she goes in, walking up to the front desk she asks the receptionist. "Hola ... I'm here for the new job, my name is Y/N. I'm the new media Intern." 

The receptionist smiled at her friendly tipping something into her computer before speaking, "Hola Y/N, I just called your new boss downstairs he should be here any minute. I'm Camila, welcome at the FC Barcelona." she outstretches her hand shaking it with Y/N's. 

"Thank you very much" Y/N exclaims, feeling slightly more at ease already. Hearing steps behind her she turns around seeing a man in his mid-twenties coming up to them dressed in head to toe barça merch. 

"Hola Camila, hola Y/N ... I'm Léon, your new boss" Shaking her hand he hands her a pass. "That's your new work ID this allows you access to any place you currently need." 

Hanging it around her neck she follows Léon to one of the elevators, while he explains what they're going to do today. 

"So first we're going to our office, I'm gonna show you your desk and log you into our office network, then one of your new colleagues is going to give you a tour and at the end of the day you can get a few barça merch pieces, everybody gets a few. You don't have to wear them here but when we are filming away from here please do" Nodding along Y/N follows him to her new office. 

"So this is your office, there should be anything you need. For the first few weeks, you will follow Alena Martín, she is one of our head content creators, she does the filming, editing, and posting herself so with her you are getting the most experience you can get, she is in the office next to yours, you can go in there later then." pointing down the corridor to her office. 

"Do you have any questions, if not then I'll go to my office now" 

Being still slightly overwhelmed Y/N shakes her head admiring her new office, "N-no um everything is fine" 

Waving goodbye Léon leaves her office, leaving Y/N alone. She opens the windows to get a bit of fresh air in, realizing that she has a perfect view of the main training field where the boys were currently training.

Leaning on the windowsill Y/N continued to watch them for a little while, whispering to herself, " I could get used to that" 

A knock behind her startles Y/N, turning around she sees a young woman standing in the doorway with a smirk on her face. Tattoos are decorating her left arm, she looks like she could be starring in Fast and Furious, one of Y/N's favorite movies. 

"Nice view, no ?" 

"Uh, y-yes ... yeah very nice" Blushing she looks down at her feet. 

"I'm Alena, I'm going to give you a tour of our sweet old barça home today" she introduces herself shaking Y/N's hand. 

They walk through the whole building, Alena explaining everything about everyone making Y/N laugh constantly. 

"So here's the dining hall, everybody eats here even our 'unbelievably important' football stars eat with us normal people." 

"Oh, really that's cool ... um do we interact with the players often, like for challenges and stuff?" Y/N asks with a slightly nervous undertone. 

"Well, not everyone ... but yes we do. Everybody has different compartments so it doesn't get too much, we are responsible for the players so yeah we do." after a short pause she continues, "That isn't a problem for ... is it?" 

"N-no it isn't it's just ... I'm not that good with ... famous people" Cringing she thinks back to that one time she met Selena Gomez and couldn't get a word out and blushed like crazy. 

Laughing Alena assures her "Don't worry you're gonna get the hang of it, you won't believe it but they're normal people too" She strokes Y/N's back a little to calm her down. 

Coming to a halt Alena turns towards a closed door, "So we're now finished with our tour, that's our supply room for merch things. Let's get you sorted out." 

Currently, Y/N's hands are full of hoodies, pants, and t-Shirts, Alena is throwing everything she can find into her hands. 

A loud knock startles both of them, resulting in Y/N throwing everything on the floor. The door opens revealing Pablo Gavi standing in the doorway laughing.

"Sorry ... did I scare you?" he asked smirking. 

"Yeah, you idiot ... did you want to break the door down?!" Alena asked with an irritated voice. 

"No, just wanted to scare you ... mission successful" he answered, starting to search through the boxes. 

Y/N just stood there frozen, completely bewildered by their bickering, looking between them with a shocked expression. 

"Ok you scared us ... but why are you here?" Alena asked Pablo with a fake annoyance in tone. 

"I lost my team jacket again and I need it tomorrow, do you know where they are? " he asked starting to search around again. 

"Yes I know where they are ... I'll grab it for you, you only cause chaos. You help Y/N pick her things up again and I get you jacket" Turning around Alena walks off.

"Who's Y/N?" 

"I'm Y/N ... h-hi" Waving she starts to blush under his gaze. 

"You're new here aren't you ... I haven't seen you around," he says, still looking slightly skeptical. 

"Um ... y-yeah it's my first day, I'm the new media intern", Y/N answers trying to sound unbothered by his presence. 

"They sent her as a support for me, you guys are unbearable alone" Alena exclaims, coming back with the said jacket in her hand, smirking at his hurt expression. 

"What are you talking about ... we are a delight" he dramatically exclaims putting a hand on his heart. 

"Pablo Gavira what are you dreaming about at night," she asks earning herself an offended huff from Pablo. 

Leaning down he picks Y/N's clothes up handing them to her with a smirk, "Well then, new media intern Y/N, it's lovely to meet you" Extending his hand for her to shake she takes it greeting him with a shy smile. 

"Nice to meet you too," she says shaking his hand, happy her voice sounds steady again. 

They hold eye contact longer than they needed too, until Alena broke them out of their trance. 

"Okok enough with the flirting now ... we have to get going "Throwing his jacket at him she shoos him out of the room locking the door behind them. 

"Well bye then ladies ... see you on Friday" Turning around he leaves them alone again.

"I ... w-we weren't ... flirting" Y/N tries to defend herself but fails as Alena just kept smirking. 

"You weren't, you looked like a deer in headlights but he definitely did, did you see they way he was smirking the whole time" she tells Y/N laughing, wrapping an arm around her walking her back to the front hall. 

"Just be careful, he's ... well he's a little bit of a player when it comes to girls. You know a typical young football player ego"

"Yeah ... you get that vibe from him that he knows he's hot"

"Oh ... so you think he's hot?" Alena teases her with a smirk.

"You know what ... yes and I stand by that" Y/n answers laughing

The two of them arrive at the front desk again and Alena says goodbye to Y/N promising to mail her, her new workplan today evening.

Thanking her, Y/N makes her way outside texting Carmen to pick her up, but the only thing on her mind was this. 

Pablo Gavi just flirted with me, and I looked stupid while he did it …

[according2thelore]

Time for part 2 of the many asks I want to send you LOL

I was rereading your es/ls snippet where es!Sam is mad at es!Dean for taking ls!Sam's side. And I was just curious, what would Ls!Sam have to to for es!Dean to get mad at him/protective over es!Sam like that? I know we got a look into it on a more extreme note in your other snippet (where es!Sam got hurt and es!Dean blames ls!Sam) But I'm curious what small thing would make Dean "take es!Sam's side" in a sense.

You just know that es!Sam would eat up being chosen like that👀 not to mention the pure angst potential that ls!Sam could have in that moment(cue protective ls!Dean and UGH a recipe for disaster❤️)

I just love es!Sam being needy for es!dean😌

hi, ari!!

omg yes let's discuss!

"i already told you no," sammy says, sharp, pinning his younger self with a hard look.

sam had approached him sly and slow earlier this morning while sam was researching time travel in the library, prodding around some heavy questions. about their future, about crossroads, about hell and deals and azazel--who he awkwardly calls "the yellow eyed demon," as it's a few years before they even know the name of the being that ruined their lives.

the deans are in the corner at one of the far library tables, breaking down and cleaning some of their guns, and sammy's looked up every few minutes to find them racing to see who can do it faster. it's a tie, most of the time, but they still send each other smug looks as if there was a clear winner.

"yeah--that's the only thing you've told me," sam snaps, jaw tense, but when sammy looks up at him again, a glare, sam softens immediately. he leans forward again, also taking care that the deans don't overhear them. his tone turns cajoling, and continues, "i'm just saying, we can work with this. this can't be random chance, right? us coming here? what if we were sent here so we can fix things?"

"'fix things'?" sam repeats, drily. that's not how it works. there's not a benevolent force out there that wants them to succeed. sam knows. there's just one guy, and he's not exactly on their side.

"yeah," the kid is clearly gaining steam, now that sam has finally responded to him with something other than a one-syllable denial. "whatever mistakes you've made--maybe dean and i were sent here so we can make difference choices. change what happened."

sam leans in, lowers his voice,

"i know something happens to dean. i could save him, sam."

sammy startles. he feels like he's just been stabbed. it takes him a second to process the words, but when he does, the layers of it all pile high: you already failed him. i won't. you made the wrong choice. i won't. dean hurts because of you. not me. let me fix him. let me put our lives back together, like you clearly couldn't.

but it's also heart-breakingly childish. naive. to believe he could fix it all. sam has never been able to forgive himself for his naivety.

"or you could kill him." sammy says, far-away, before he can think about it.

"what?" the tone of his voice brings him back. it takes a second for sammy to focus his gaze, but when he does, sam looks stricken. his brows are pulled together, eyes wide, gaze searching for a weakness that he can usually find in dean, but not sammy.

"yeah. you could kill him. what makes you think you know what's best? hm? so what: i tell you how i fucked up, and you just decide to fuck up in some different way?"

"i wouldn't--"

"you wouldn't know, would you? what if you change the story and make things worse? what if instead of going left, you go right, and dean gets his guts ripped out?"

sammy's not trying to be cruel--he's genuinely, earnestly not. sam doesn't know how many hours sam has begged for this exact moment, the ability to take it all back, the ability to shove it all back into his mouth, or to put a bullet in his brain before he damned them all. but he doesn't get a chance. they never get a chance.

chuck's made sure of it. even if sammy spills his guts, chuck won't let them get away with it. if sam stopped drinking the demon blood, chuck would rip off dean's head anyway to get sam to open the cage. it's not easy.

but he knows the words are hard, have fangs that tear into sam's soft underbelly, right at his intestines and through his lungs.

sam always breaks sharp. dean is slow to cry, his eyes glittering and swelling before the start of tears spill over. sam doesn't always cry when he breaks, but oozes hurt and anger and pain over his shoes and squishing wetly underfoot. between one second and the next, sammy's younger self breaks. he ducks his head quick, exhaling sharply, blinking fast.

"you don't know," sammy insists, louder, because sam is clearly far away. "are you ready to have his blood on your hands?"

younger sam stands up suddenly, and there, like magic, is dean. young dean. he puts himself between sammy and sam, chest out, eyes blazing with anger. anger directed at him.

and sammy realizes, horrifyingly, that this is what dad must've seen when one of them took it too far, for years. and he's dad in this situation.

"hey--back the hell off!" dean snarls. "he's just askin'. we're all freaked. you don't get to be a dick just because you're pissed! grow the hell up!"

sammy recoils, the words sounding like a slap in the sudden quiet of the room. the irony of the words (grow up, ha-fucking-ha) is not lost on him. so much for the deans not hearing anything. sammy's own dean crosses over quickly, but stands next to sammy, almost behind him.

young sam takes a step forward so he's almost pressed into his dean's back, and sammy watches the way he practically slouches. months and months of insecurity falls off of him like taking off a heavy coat. the tenseness of his jaw smooths, his next blink taking just a second longer. he looks like a child being welcomed back into his parent's arms after being scolded. he's high off of being chosen, of being swept up back into arms and loved again.

he's smug. incredibly smug. sammy wasn't mad before, but now he most definitely is, as sam leers at him. cocky brat.

the sting of dean's rebuke is the only thing keeping sammy back, and he feels the sting of it across his knuckles again. he can feel his own dean at his back, can feel a hand on his shoulder as dean steps forward to confront his younger self.

"you don't get to fucking talk to him like that." dean snaps, and younger dean's chin tilts up, like he's ready for a fight. his eyes flash.

sammy wraps a hand around dean's warm bicep and pulls him back, turning around and patting him hard on the shoulder.

dean's face is pulled down in a scowl, and it takes him a second to pull his eyes away from his younger self and up to sammy's. when he does, his gaze goes immediately soft, but his mouth stays hard-set.

sam tilts his head. leave it. dean shakes his head. i'm not going to. sam tilts his head slightly down. dean scoffs. he shoves sammy's hand off of his shoulder, but doesn't say anything else. when sammy turns back to their younger selves, they both look a little unnerved. sammy drops his hand from dean's shoulder.

sammy imagines it probably is a little unnerving to see your own silent communication from the outside.

sammy's still reeling a bit. he hasn't been scolded by that version of his brother since he still had trouble growing facial hair. his brother--any version of dean--hasn't chosen somebody else since...fuck, benny probably. before that, dad. it stings. sam can barely meet his eyes, and knows. he's radiating hurt like a neon sign.

but conviction makes him set his jaw and meet his younger self's eyes.

"i wasn't trying to be a dick." sam says, because it's true. sam hasn't been able to believe in a positive higher power for years. no one's looking out for them, and it hurts to be faced with his own naivety. "you just don't know. neither of you do. there have been a--a million choices that have put us where we are today. but they put us here together. i'm not willing to risk that. i'm not."

when sam can finally pull his gaze up to meet his dean's, dean looks both concerned and determined. his mouth opens, but he clearly doesn't know what to say. sam puts a hand on the side of his face, thumb to stubble, then pulls away quickly. it feels unnatural to expose their own vulnerability--like a dog leaning over to expose its belly to a wolf--even if it's just to their younger selves. he smiles, quick and false and watery.

sammy turns and leaves.

~~~

thank you for being patient with me!!! mwah mwah mwah!

-lizzy

(the snippet in which ES!Sam is mad) (the snippet in which ES!Sam is injured) (ES/LS verse masterlist/explanation)

[crimeronan]

Hey, your oc playlists are so damn good, I'm for sure noting them to listen when I've got time to rly marinate in them!!! I hope it's okay but they also made me want to share a Princess Luz au playlist I put together last year ~

The Man in the Chair by Aviators: This one is about Belos and Luz, vibes are the first few chapters of the first Luz pov fic.

"Take your medicine and swallow down All the bitterness that built this town Don't ever let him start to realize You know this machine was rigged to fail When it falls apart then you can't bail To find a place of safety in the sky"

and

"Control comes cheap and nothing is fair They wake you from sleep and nobody's there You walk among sheep and that's why you're scared You'll never be the man in the chair"

Esp in relation to the nightmares + realization of powerless + trying to act normal and not doing it.

Her Father Was A Bastard by the Holy Ghost Tent Revival: Hunter pov about him and Luz, fairly self explanatory I hope.

"Oh oh, the world is spinning faster And I thought I heard you say your father is a bastard I don't mean to brag But my life's a drag without you"

Bleak thing for Hunter to say but kinda true. Without Luz it would be worse!

Princess of the Universe by Utopia: Other people's pov of Luz! Also deliberate irony because ahahahahaaa

"You're a princess baby, you can do no wrong" <- no one believes this

"Ain't seen nothing like it since the Shah got the rope You've got a legion of leaguers that could shame the Pope You just need to say the word and they run like hell You better take a cool shower so your head don't swell"

Regardless of how little she wants it she has power now! No one can stop her! She knows this and it's not a good thing! This one is tonally dissonant but on purpose, also it's kind of a bop.

Turn Back the Clock by Greyscale: Hunter and Luz, again. This one is about them reconciling/coming back to an understanding after Belos's death. This is the one I'm a little iffy on, mostly because it's more explicitly romantic than most of these but I like it here.

"How could I act so crazy? I was a fool My state of mind was hazy but you overruled Keep me steady and I'll do the same The key to love is sharing the blame"

In Love With a Thinker by Utopia: Amity's pov at the very beginning of her and Luz interacting when Luz is very scary and Amity is very on edge.

"I'm just a cipher in her master plan That's what I get for working out of my league Although she says that I have nothing to fear I wonder what will be left when she's finished with me

God help me"

I do love how Amity spends her first pov fic convinced Luz is a coldblooded schemer. It's fun.

Dead Woman Walking by Megan Jean and the KFB: This is a song about Luz doing Badly! And guilt spiraling about Hunter and about whether she's taking advantage of him and if he Actually likes her or if he's just Built to and so on so on.

"If I could feel at all I would choose regret For ruining your life from the day that we met And still you search my eyes for some kind of divine sign Don't you see the sockets rotting baby? Love is blind"

So technically Hunter is the corpse but y'know close enough.

"I hate the way I walk all over you Just like the dead women do"

Yeah

If It Doesn't Come Naturally, Leave It by Al Stewart: The AU Lumity song! Just the, the latest fic in it's entirety. Amity pov again. I could honestly go line by line on this one but I'll spare you and just paste the first verse.

"Nothing that's forced can ever be right If it doesn't come naturally, leave it That's what she said as we turned out the light and we bent our backs as slaves of the night Then she let down her guard and showed me the scars She got from trying to fight Said, oh you better believe it"

Both of their neuroticism about power + the first time they slept together being weirdly natural but also so tense + Luz literally lets down her guard and shows Amity the scars she got from trying to fight. I could go on. This is The song.

Bonus song - Self-Inflicted by Frank Hayes. I don't want to put it in the main list because it may technically be rare music and is almost definitely in poor taste, but it unfortunately makes me think of them. Sorry.

"I'd do anything to myself for you"

ooh, i'll have to give these a listen!! thank you :O that last lumity one Especially sounds really on-the-nose.

you also don't have to worry about picking songs that are "too romantic" for luz and hunter, haha. their relationship has all the beats of a usual romance.... sometimes romantic songs just fit!

when i made my own playlist, there were SEVERAL "dysfunctional romance" songs for her and hunter. hell, there were also several songs about abusive relationships for her & belos that i usually read as being about romantic relationships.

[slayfics]

Breaking mui’s heart and him being okay with it since “it’s always been yours to break anyway” angst

You break up with Muichiro.

Muichiro came to the secluded area your crow had instructed him to. He was confused about the location you asked to meet him at, being that it was a place you both had never met before.

He felt butterflies flutter in his stomach as he imagined the sight of you in his head. What was it that you needed to talk to him about so urgently?

He waited anxiously until finally your silhouette appeared in the distance as you made your way over to him.

"Hello, it's good to see you again," He spoke greeting you.

"Yeah- it's good to see you too, Tokito," you said.

Muichiro instantly recognized something was off. The way your hands clasped tightly together, the way you addressed him formally, your averted gaze. Not to mention you didn't greet him with your usually tight embrace and gentle kiss to his cheek.

The suspicious meet up location was enough to tip him off but now that you were in front of him, he really knew something was wrong.

"Is everything alright?" he asked failing to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"Well yes- and no... I really need to talk to you," you said still averting your gaze from his.

"Oh? What about?" He asked, feeling his anxiety peak and his heart beating faster than when he battled against demons.

"I um- I'm not sure about-" You stuttered and left your sentence hanging.

"Not sure... about what?" Muichiro said trying to move and catch your gaze to no avail. He wanted nothing more than to see the look in your eye.

"Not sure about this anymore..." You mumbled so low he almost didn't hear it.

"This? Could you be more specific? What do you mean?" He asked desperately hoping you didn't mean what he thought you meant. You couldn't be about to throw away everything you both had been through, were you?

"This- as is in... us... I just don't know if I can do it anymore Tokito. I'm sorry- I wish I had more to say about it but-... I just can't I- I need a break," You explained, hands still clasped tightly together as you refused to look at him.

"You don't mean that," Muichiro said in disbelief waiting for you to say you were pranking him.

"I do," you said solemnly.

"Look at me," He demanded. You kept your gaze averted still too overwhelmed to make eye contact with him. "I said look at me!" He yelled, causing you to finally look up.

The moment Muichiro saw your eyes his heart broke. In your eyes he saw no humor, or playfulness. Only dead seriousness. You meant what you said. You wanted to leave him.

"Why?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"I'm sorry- I don't know how to explain," You responded, your own voice cracking and threatening to burst into tears. "But- I didn't want to do this in a crow, you deserved to hear it from me in person. I- I wish you the best ok, don't think this has anything to do with you." You responded.

Muichiro stood in shocked silence as disassociation took over him. Nothing felt real anymore. A trauma response of zoning out wrapped around him like a warm blanket as a few moments of still silence passed.

"I'm sorry I guess I'll give you youe space... please reach out to your friends if you need them though, Tokito. It's not like I hate you or don't care about you... I just... I don't know..." You said as you slowly walked away leaving Muichiro standing alone.

Muichiro stood silently for several more moments processing the moment and the words you said. Had you really left him? Was this real? He seemed to be back in one of his blank dazes. This hadn't happened since he had recovered his memories.

Snapping back to him self Muichiro grabbed at his head. Blinking hard away at tears, he shook his head a bit as he realized.

You really left him.

This was real.

Muichiro felt his heart shattering into pieces, but for some reason he didn't mind.

If anyone was going to give him this earth-shattering feeling, it was always meant to be you.

Thank you for the request! We love a good angst here hehe~

Tags~

@aeolia18 @yandere-kou @sakurasunkiss @hashiroses @plvuii @snowmist-hashira @kiyokatokito

[outeremissary]

For no reason in particular I think it's really important to note that as much as I am a pretty intense atheist irl in 2024 I do not blame Sarenrae for all of Tristian's fuckups and am generally disinclined to point fingers at the gods in Kingmaker for mortal affairs (someone at Owlcat just straight up hates Shelyn and whatever they are doing there is mildly incoherent). Is it best practice to leave your now ex-angel with Nyrissa? Definitely not, many things would have been solved by Tristian Not being there. But I don't think in the least that Sarenrae has "broken" Tristian out of malice or neglect. I believe that Tristian's divinity was an extraordinary privilege which was revoked for Tristian's failures to be worthy of that privilege (which I hardly think started with Nyrissa, that was just the breaking point).

I also think that there's a way of seeing being left at that moment as both a moment of harm reduction and a trial of faith. I don't think Nyrissa expected to find herself with an angel who had fallen. I think she had likely prepared to manipulate an actual outsider, had wanted someone in command of the full range of their supernatural abilities. And I think such a being could have enabled more damage much faster. And as for the trial of faith: I think there was a solve to this puzzle, a way to prove that one could hold themself to the extraordinary standards of a servant of the transcendent divine, and that was to have faith in the goddess regardless of fear and to refuse to cooperate no matter what. To as soon as aware refuse to be complicit in the slaughter of innocents, the assassination of a stranger. I'm not the world's biggest self-sacrifice advocate and Balthazar certainly reflects that about me but: these are the deeds of heroes and saints. Furthermore, the soul of a mortal can be recovered. If Tristian dies in chapter seven, the given explanation is that they can't be resurrected because Sarenrae has intervened- I firmly believe that if Tristian had died standing up to Nyrissa Sarenrae would have reclaimed them and restored their divinity. Tristian's failures are failures of first ego and then cowardice. When push actually came to shove, they could not be what they claimed to be. It's pitiable. It's very human. Huge fan of the angel who fails by being too human and too flawed. But I do not place this at the feet of Sarenrae. Not fully, at least. Not even mostly.

Of course, Balthazar would be a different matter: he's always happy to throw accusations to the heavens.