#||I really do enjoy writing lobos

[urdreamydoodles]

For DC, would you mayhaps write about picking them up when they aren't expecting, or just didn't think you could, almighty writer?

DC COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

You pick them up as if they weighed absolutely nothing

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara, Dinah Lance, Wally West, Victor Stone (Cyborg), Garfield Logan (Beast Boy) & Lobo

Reply to anon: If I understood your request correctly (I really hope so), I love you for this request, it was so fun to write this headcanon.

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

- It is a rare thing to catch Bruce Wayne off guard, a feat most would deem impossible. He is a man of precision, calculation, and control, his every move rehearsed in the dark solitude of his mind long before it is executed. And yet, when you lift him into your arms with the ease of a shadow passing over the city, all his legendary foresight shatters in an instant. His breath stutters—just once, imperceptible to anyone but you—and his gloved hands instinctively grasp your shoulders, as if to confirm the absurd reality of what is happening. The weight of Gotham’s protector, cradled so effortlessly against you, is a secret victory that sends a slow smile curling at the edges of your lips.

- "Tch," he exhales, the sound more air than voice, his dark eyes narrowing in something between astonishment and begrudging amusement. "You’ve been holding out on me." His pride does not allow him to admit the full extent of his surprise, but the way his fingers tighten ever so slightly against your arms betrays him. Bruce Wayne is not a man who enjoys being caught unaware, and yet—there is something in the way you handle him, something in the unwavering steadiness of your grip, that quiets the usual tension that knots his body like a bowstring drawn too tight.

- He does not struggle. He does not order you to put him down. No, he merely tilts his head, calculating, the sharp angles of his face betraying the ghost of a smirk. "I assume you have a reason for this," he murmurs, his voice a low rasp against your ear. "Or do you just enjoy surprising me?" It is a challenge, an invitation, and perhaps, in some small way, a confession. For all his formidable strength, for all the ways he has trained himself to never relinquish control—there is a part of him that does not mind being held by you.

- Later, when the moment has passed and Gotham calls him away once more, he does not mention it. But you notice the way his gaze lingers on you, the way his fingers brush against your wrist just a little longer than necessary. And when, the next time, you reach for him with that same effortless power, you swear you see the corner of his lips quirk upward—just for a second—before he allows himself to fall into your embrace.

Kal-El (Clark Kent, Superman)

- The sky belongs to him, the very air bending to his will, the world itself no heavier than a breath upon his palm. And yet, when you lift him into your arms, when you cradle the Man of Steel as if he were something as light and effortless as a whisper, it is his turn to be left breathless. His blue eyes widen—just slightly, just enough for you to catch the flicker of disbelief that dances through them like a shooting star. "Whoa," he exhales, the sheer sincerity in his voice making you laugh. "Did you—did you just—?"

- He does not finish his sentence, because the answer is obvious. He is here, weightless in your grasp, and despite all reason, he cannot quite seem to wrap his mind around it. He has lifted mountains, shifted tectonic plates, carried entire cities upon his back—but this, this is something entirely different. He peers down at you with a mixture of awe and delight, a boyish grin breaking across his features, and suddenly, he is not Superman, not the Last Son of Krypton, but simply Clark—a farm boy who has just been shown a new miracle in a world that he thought he had seen from every angle.

- "Well," he laughs, resting his hands lightly on your shoulders, his touch warm, steady. "I guess turnabout is fair play." He is not used to being the one lifted, the one held, and there is something undeniably endearing about the way he lets himself be carried, as if surrendering to the simple joy of the moment. His grin softens into something fonder, something gentler, and his voice dips to a lower timbre, laced with that impossible tenderness that only he can wield so effortlessly. "You are full of surprises, aren’t you?"

- Later, as you stand together beneath the open sky, he will wrap his arms around you and lift you high into the air, spinning you in a slow, weightless circle, as if to remind you that the universe still bows to his strength. But the truth, the quiet, unspoken truth, is that he will remember this moment—not for the sheer impossibility of it, not for the surprise of being lifted, but for the way you looked at him as you did it. As if he was something precious. As if he was something worth carrying.

Barry Allen (The Flash)

- One second, he is standing before you, mid-sentence, hands moving animatedly as he rambles about some impossible feat of science, some breakthrough that only his mind could possibly keep up with. And the next—he is airborne. Suspended. A blur of red and gold frozen in time as you hoist him effortlessly into your arms, his entire train of thought derailing so spectacularly that for the first time in what is possibly ever, Barry Allen is at a complete and utter loss for words.

- His blue eyes blink, wide with sheer, unfiltered astonishment. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, as if struggling to find a logical explanation for what just happened. "What—how did you—" He pauses, glances down at himself, then back at you. "Okay. Alright. This is fine. This is normal. Totally normal. This is a thing that happens." His words come faster now, a breathless tumble of disbelief and delight, and despite the initial shock, there is no fear—only pure, infectious amusement.

- And then he laughs. Oh, he laughs—bright and bubbling over, like the crackle of lightning against an open sky, his body practically vibrating with sheer giddiness. "I mean, I know I’ve swept you off your feet before, but this—this is a whole new level." His arms loop around your neck, dramatic and theatrical, his head tilting back as he lets himself be cradled as if he were some fairytale damsel. "Be honest, you’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you?"

- He will tease you about this for weeks, recounting the moment with exaggerated flair to anyone who will listen. But there will also be the quiet moments—when he leans against you just a little more than usual, when his hands linger at your waist as if remembering the steady strength of your arms. And maybe, just maybe, the next time you catch him at full speed, he will let you lift him once more—just to feel, for a fleeting moment, what it’s like to be caught by you.

Diana of Themyscira (Wonder Woman)

- The daughter of gods, sculpted from sacred clay, raised among warriors whose strength is the stuff of legend. To surprise Diana is no easy task, for she has spent centuries honing herself into something divine, something unyielding. And yet—when you lift her into your arms, when you cradle her as if she were no heavier than a whispered prayer, the Goddess of Truth is rendered momentarily speechless.

- Her lips part, her brows lifting ever so slightly, and though she does not gasp, does not falter, there is an undeniable flicker of astonishment in her gaze. "You are stronger than you appear," she muses, her voice warm, touched with something akin to admiration. A warrior recognizes another, and in this moment, she sees you in a new light—not merely as her love, but as something formidable, something unexpected.

- And then, she smiles. Not a small smile, not a coy smirk, but something radiant—something that reaches her eyes, that sets her entire face alight with unmistakable joy. "Impressive," she hums, resting a steady hand against your shoulder. "Though, I must admit, I rather enjoy this perspective." There is a teasing lilt to her voice, a challenge dancing at the edges of her words. It is rare for anyone to hold her in such a way, but she finds, quite unexpectedly, that she does not mind it at all.

- Later, she will return the favor with ease, sweeping you into her arms without effort, carrying you across battlefields, across cities, across oceans. But in that moment, in the quiet space between surprise and laughter, she allows herself to rest in your hold, to relish the warmth of your embrace, to be held—not as a warrior, not as a princess, but simply as a woman who loves, and is loved in return.

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

- Arthur Curry is not a man accustomed to feeling small. He is a king, a warrior, a force of nature bound in muscle and salt, the weight of oceans resting upon his shoulders. He has wrestled sea monsters the size of mountains, stood unyielding against the fury of the abyss, and emerged from every battle with the untamed, feral grin of a man who belongs to the storm. But when you lift him—when your arms curl around him with a strength that defies reason, hoisting him off solid ground as if he were nothing but driftwood—his entire world tilts. His golden eyes widen, stunned, his calloused hands gripping instinctively at your shoulders as if the sea itself has betrayed him.

- "What the—?" His voice is a startled rumble, a sharp bark of laughter cutting through the shock. His thick brows furrow, then lift, his expression wavering somewhere between indignation and absolute, boyish delight. He has never been handled like this, not even by the tides he calls home, and it is as absurd as it is exhilarating. "Alright, alright, I get it," he grumbles, though his smirk betrays him. "You’ve been hiding those muscles from me, huh?" There is no protest, no attempt to reclaim his dominance—only the rough, teasing warmth of a man who knows when to yield to the unexpected.

- He tests you, just a little, shifting his weight in your arms as if daring you to drop him. But you don’t. Not even close. And something in his grin turns sharper, more wicked, because he loves this—loves being surprised, loves the way you refuse to let him be the only powerful one in the room. "Damn," he chuckles, low and approving, his gaze sweeping over you with something hungry, something possessive. "That’s actually kinda hot."

- When you finally put him down, he doesn’t step back. No, he lingers—crowds close, his massive frame still buzzing with the thrill of it. And then, without warning, his arms are around you, hoisting you off your feet with ease, spinning you in a full, dizzying circle before crushing you against his chest. "Had to return the favor," he murmurs against your ear, voice thick with laughter. "But next time, sweetheart? Give a king some warning before you knock him off his throne."

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

- Hal Jordan is weightless before you can even blink. A man accustomed to soaring, to the rush of flight beneath his ribs, he has never once imagined himself being lifted—not without the emerald glow of his will forging the sky beneath his feet. But now, here, in your arms, held effortlessly with no ring, no power beyond the sheer impossible strength of you—Hal is, for the first time in his life, truly speechless.

- "You—hold on, what?" His voice cracks, laughter bubbling out of him in a disbelieving rush. His hands press against your shoulders, his pulse hammering with something electric, something wild. "Oh, no way. No freaking way." His mouth splits into a grin, bright and reckless, his green eyes alight with sheer, giddy amusement. "Are you messing with me? Is this some kind of—?" But no, there’s no trickery, no constructs at play, just you, standing solid beneath him while the world spins wildly out of sync with everything he thought he knew.

- And he loves it. Oh, he loves it. Because Hal Jordan lives for the unexpected, for the thrill of new frontiers, for the rush of facing the impossible head-on. And you—lifting him like he’s nothing, standing there with that knowing smirk—you are a whole new adventure, and he is utterly, shamelessly hooked. "This is amazing," he declares, wrapping his arms around your neck, leaning in close, grinning like a devil who has just been handed the keys to heaven. "You do realize I’m never gonna let you live this down, right?"

- He doesn’t stop talking about it. Ever. The next time the League gathers, he flings an arm around your shoulder and grins at the others. "You guys won’t believe this," he announces, smug and gleeful. "This one? Picked me up like I was a damn sack of potatoes. I mean, look at me! Look at this!" And when the teasing inevitably turns back on him, when Barry is cackling and Diana is arching a knowing brow, Hal just shrugs, utterly unapologetic. "Hey," he says, looping his arms around you once more, flashing you that impossibly charming, infuriatingly smug grin. "What can I say? I’m into it."

Oliver Queen (Green Arrow)

- Oliver Queen has spent his life dancing on the edge of danger, slipping through shadows and fire with the unshakable confidence of a man who always lands on his feet. But this—this was not in his playbook. One moment, he’s standing there, all easy smirks and smooth arrogance, and the next? His feet leave the ground, his entire world tilting as you lift him with effortless strength, cradling him as if he were something delicate. And for the first time in years, Oliver Queen has no immediate comeback.

- "…You’ve got to be kidding me." His voice is flat, stunned, as his hands instinctively grip your shoulders. His green eyes blink once, twice, his mouth parting in absolute disbelief. "Did that just—did you just—?" And then it happens—the breathless chuckle, the slow realization, the sudden shift from shock to pure, unfiltered amusement. A wide, toothy grin breaks across his face, bright as wildfire, and before you know it, he’s laughing, full-bodied and unrestrained. "Oh, I love this," he gasps between chuckles, eyes gleaming. "I love this. Are you seeing this? Someone take a picture—no, wait, don’t, I have a reputation to uphold."

- He throws himself into the bit immediately, draping an arm over his forehead as if he’s some swooning noble. "My hero," he sighs dramatically, peeking at you from beneath his lashes. "How will I ever repay you for saving me from the perils of standing?" His grin is wicked, challenging, but there’s something beneath it—something warm, something fond, something that lingers even as his laughter fades into something quieter, something real.

- Later, when he’s sprawled beside you, still smirking, he nudges your side with his elbow. "You know," he muses, tapping his chin, "I think I might need saving again sometime soon." And then, without warning, he flings himself at you, arms wrapping around your neck with all the grace of a man who knows damn well you’ll catch him. "Quick, sweetheart," he grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "Before gravity kicks back in."

John Constantine

- John Constantine has seen many things in his life—things that would shatter the minds of lesser men, things that slither and whisper in the dark, things that crawl beneath the skin of the world and rot it from the inside out. But this? This is something else entirely. One second, he’s standing there, cigarette between his lips, coat draped lazily over his shoulders, and the next? He’s airborne. Lifted. Weightless. And utterly, utterly done with this reality.

- "Bloody hell," he curses, his usual rasp of sarcasm momentarily failing him. His cigarette nearly tumbles from his lips as he grips at your arms, wide-eyed, indignant. "You having a laugh, love?" But you don’t waver, don’t so much as break a sweat, and that realization sends something flickering through his gaze—something wary, something intrigued, something dangerously close to impressed.

- "Well, that’s just embarrassing," he mutters, exhaling smoke through his nose, tilting his head as he eyes you with newfound consideration. "And here I thought I was the one with all the tricks up me sleeve." He shifts in your arms, testing the hold, then smirks, lazy and sharp. "Alright then. Carry on, darling. Just make sure you don’t drop me—I’d hate to spill me pint."

- Later, when he’s sitting with you, fingers tapping against his glass, he glances your way with something softer hidden beneath the bite of his words. "Next time," he murmurs, swirling his drink, "maybe give a bloke a warning before you decide to turn his world upside down, yeah?" But there’s no real protest, no real annoyance. Just the lingering, undeniable truth—he liked it. He liked you. And that, perhaps, is the most dangerous magic of all.

Roy Harper (Arsenal)

- Roy Harper has been thrown, knocked down, and sent flying more times than he can count. But this? This is different. One second, he’s standing there—grinning, cocky, weight shifted lazily onto one hip—and the next, his feet leave the ground. For the first time in a long time, Roy Harper is caught instead of doing the catching. His mouth opens, a sharp inhale of surprise, his arms flailing for balance, but there’s nothing for him to do except accept it. And he absolutely, completely does not know how to handle that.

- "H-hold up—wait—what the hell?" The words tumble from his lips in a startled bark of laughter, his hands instinctively clutching at your shoulders. His blue eyes are wide, scanning your face for some kind of explanation. "You just—how did you—?" His brain stutters over itself, trying to make sense of it. It’s not that he thinks you’re weak—hell no—but he knows how heavy he is, how solidly he’s built, and the fact that you lifted him like he was nothing? That’s something else entirely.

- Then, of course, the reality of it sinks in, and Roy Harper, being Roy Harper, does what he does best—he leans into it. "Damn, babe," he whistles, his signature smirk creeping across his face. "If I’d known you were this strong, I’d have made you carry me around ages ago." He shifts slightly in your arms, testing your grip, then settles in with an exaggerated sigh, draping an arm over his forehead like a damsel in distress. "Guess I don’t need to hit the gym anymore—got myself a personal lifter right here."

- And when you finally put him down? He doesn’t walk away. No, he sticks close, bumping his hip against yours, looking up at you with a mix of mischief and something warmer. "You’re full of surprises," he murmurs, his voice dropping just slightly, almost thoughtful. And then, with a wicked grin, he adds, "So... how do you feel about carrying me to bed, sweetheart?"

Koriand’r (Starfire)

- Koriand’r is no stranger to flight, to weightlessness, to the effortless way she moves through the sky with the sun’s fire at her back. But being lifted by you—by your hands, your strength, your unwavering confidence—is something she has never felt before. And it stuns her. Not out of fear, nor shock, nor disbelief—no, it is something softer, something warmer, something that spreads through her chest like the first rays of dawn.

- "Oh!" The delighted gasp slips from her lips as her arms instinctively wrap around your neck, golden eyes blinking in wide-eyed surprise. For a moment, she simply looks at you, studying your face, as if committing this feeling to memory. And then, as quickly as the surprise came, it melts into sheer, unrestrained joy. "Oh, my love!" she exclaims, her voice a bright melody of laughter, her fingers tangling in your hair as she tilts her head. "This is wonderful!"

- She does not hesitate to make herself comfortable, resting easily in your hold, her warmth seeping into your skin like sunlight. "You are so strong!" she praises, her voice dripping with admiration, her eyes glowing with pure, genuine awe. "Why did you not tell me before? We could have done this so many times!" There is no embarrassment, no hesitation—only the full, boundless embrace of a woman who loves fiercely, who takes nothing for granted, who cherishes this moment for all it is.

- And later, when you place her back down, she does not simply walk away. No, she hovers, her hands still cradling your face, her lips pressing a kiss—soft, lingering, grateful—against your cheek. "I must carry you next," she declares, her voice rich with excitement. "It is only fair!" And then, before you can protest, she sweeps you into her arms, laughing as she soars into the sky, twirling you through the air in a radiant, dizzying dance of love.

Kara Zor-El (Supergirl)

- Kara Zor-El is used to being the strongest person in the room. She has spent her life holding back, careful with every touch, every movement, every breath, always hyper-aware of her own power. But you—lifting her so effortlessly, holding her as if her strength does not matter—it knocks the breath from her lungs in a way no villain, no kryptonite, ever has.

- "Wha—wait, what?" Her voice is higher than usual, startled, her hands gripping your shoulders instinctively as her legs dangle in the air. Her wide, blue eyes blink rapidly, scanning your face for some sort of answer. "You—you picked me up?" She sounds offended for a split second before the reality of it truly hits her, before the corners of her lips twitch and something suspiciously close to a giggle bubbles in her throat. "You picked me up."

- And then she’s laughing—full-bodied, bright, joyful—because it’s so ridiculous, so absurd, and so absolutely wonderful. "Oh my god," she wheezes, her head dropping against your shoulder as she shakes with laughter. "I love this." She leans back, resting easily in your arms, grinning up at you with an expression so full of delight it’s almost blinding. "How are you this strong? Have you been holding out on me? Are you secretly Kryptonian? Oh my god, are we long-lost cousins? Should I call Clark?"

- When you finally put her down, she immediately tests you again—jumping at you with zero warning, wrapping her arms around your neck, trusting you to catch her. And when you do? She beams. "Again," she demands, eyes bright with exhilaration. "Again!" And suddenly, she’s obsessed. She will never let this go. You have doomed yourself to a lifetime of Supergirl dramatically flinging herself into your arms at the most inconvenient moments.

Slade Wilson (Deathstroke)

- Slade Wilson does not like surprises. He is a man who calculates every outcome, who moves with precision, who keeps his world meticulously controlled. He does not get caught off guard. But this—the sudden shift in gravity, the impossible strength behind your touch, the way his feet leave the ground—this is a surprise so profound that, for one fleeting second, the legendary Deathstroke is stunned.

- His single eye narrows sharply, his body tensing instinctively, a thousand battle instincts screaming at him to react. But there is no attack, no enemy—only you, holding him like he is something fragile, something weightless, something you can control without effort. And that—that—is what truly catches him off guard. "Well," he rumbles, his voice dangerously low, "this is new."

- He does not panic. He does not flail or struggle. No, Slade Wilson merely analyzes, his sharp mind whirring as he studies your face, his expression unreadable. And then, slowly—so slowly it’s almost imperceptible—the corners of his lips twitch into something that is almost amusement. "You’ve been keeping secrets," he murmurs, the faintest ghost of a smirk curving his lips. "That’s dangerous."

- When you finally set him down, he does not step away. No, he lingers, his presence a solid, immovable force as he tilts his head, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. And then, just as you think the moment has passed, he reaches out—gripping your wrist with a strength that rivals your own. "My turn," he states simply, before sweeping you up effortlessly, his smirk widening as he watches your expression shift. "Now, let’s see how you handle surprises."

Kent Nelson (Doctor Fate)

- Kent Nelson is a man who has lived through centuries of battles, his mind tethered to the ancient wisdom of Nabu, weighed down by the knowledge of the cosmos. He is not easily shaken. He has fought demons, walked through dimensions where the laws of gravity bend and break, and seen the rise and fall of civilizations. And yet, for all his experience, for all his wisdom, nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for the moment when you pick him up like he is no heavier than a feather caught in the wind.

- His body stills immediately, the flowing gold of his cloak pooling in your arms, his gauntleted hands frozen mid-motion as if his mind is struggling to catch up with his reality. He has faced eldritch horrors that defy comprehension, but this—this is something else entirely. "...Interesting." The word is measured, calm, but you can hear the faint edge of bewilderment in his voice. Beneath the helmet of Fate, his expression remains unreadable, but you can feel the way he is processing. Analyzing. Calculating how this is even possible.

- "There are few beings in existence who could accomplish this," he finally murmurs, and the weight of his words is almost laughable. But there is something else beneath them—something softer. Awe. Intrigue. A deep and abiding reverence for the unknown, for the mysteries of the universe that even he has yet to unravel. And right now? You are one of those mysteries. A puzzle he had not anticipated, but one he finds himself eager to solve. His fingers trail along your shoulder, light as a whisper, as if trying to feel the power beneath your skin.

- And then, in a rare moment of levity, the corners of his lips curve into something that is not quite a smile but something like it. "I wonder," he muses, "if Nabu knew about this." There is an unmistakable note of amusement in his voice, and you can tell—tell—that he is already planning the next time he can test your strength again. Doctor Fate may be bound to destiny, but Kent Nelson? Kent Nelson has just discovered something infinitely more interesting than fate itself: you.

Rachel Roth (Raven)

- Raven is used to control, to restraint. She has spent her life mastering herself, holding back, ensuring that nothing—not a single tremor of emotion—escapes without her permission. But control means nothing when you sweep her off her feet without warning. One moment, she is standing in the comfort of your presence, and the next, the world tilts—her balance stolen, gravity defied—and she finds herself cradled in your arms.

- "What—" The word is cut off, her breath catching in her throat, violet eyes wide and blinking as if she has glitched. It is not fear—Raven does not fear you—but it is shock, raw and unfiltered, slipping past the walls she has so carefully constructed. No one lifts her. No one dares. She is Raven, daughter of Trigon, wielder of darkness, but you—you lift her as though she is made of something far lighter, far softer. "...How?" The question is quiet, but laced with something dangerously close to wonder.

- And then, after a long, weighted pause, her lips part again. "Put me down." The words are flat, carefully neutral, but the telltale blush dusting her pale cheeks betrays her. You hold her a moment longer—just long enough to see the way her fingers twitch as if fighting the urge to grab onto you—and then, finally, you comply. The moment her feet touch the ground, she crosses her arms, tilting her chin slightly as if regaining her composure. But the faintest flicker of amusement sparks in her eyes. "You could have warned me."

- But later—later—when she thinks you aren’t looking, you catch her staring at you. Calculating. Considering. And the next time she finds herself in your arms? There is no sharp inhale, no startled demand to be put down. There is only the way her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, the way she allows herself to lean into your warmth. And if, just once, you hear the quietest whisper of "Again." as she buries her face in your neck, well... you say nothing.

Zatanna Zatara

- Zatanna is a performer. She has dazzled crowds, charmed audiences, and bent the very fabric of reality to her will with a flourish of her hands. She is a woman who makes the impossible look effortless. But what she does not expect—what she cannot predict—is you pulling a trick of your own. One moment, she is speaking, hands gesturing mid-sentence, and the next, she is in the air, her words dissolving into a startled gasp as she finds herself in your arms.

- "Well, hello there!" she exclaims, blinking in surprise before laughter spills from her lips, bright and genuine. "Was that part of the show? Because if so, I think I missed my cue." Her dark lashes flutter as she tilts her head, studying you with a slow, appreciative smirk. "And here I thought I was the one full of surprises." The twinkle in her eyes is unmistakable, a magician recognizing another masterful trick.

- "You have to tell me how you did that," she continues, wrapping her arms around your neck in a movement so seamless, so graceful, that it’s as if she was always meant to be there. "Strength spell? Secret training? Or—" she leans in, voice dropping to a playful whisper, "are you actually just a natural-born showstopper?" There is no flustered stammering, no embarrassment—only delight, only curiosity, only the unmistakable thrill of discovering something new.

- When you finally place her back down, she takes a step back, then claps her hands together. "Again." The demand is immediate, playful. "I need to know if it was a fluke! We must test this thoroughly." And just like that, you have created a monster. Zatanna will not let this go. From this day forward, any time she catches you off guard, she will jump at you just to see if you’ll catch her. And when you inevitably do? She’ll flash you that signature grin and purr, "Abracadabra, darling."

Dinah Lance (Black Canary)

- Dinah is a woman who stands her ground. She is not used to being swept off her feet—not figuratively, and certainly not literally. So when you do it, when you lift her with effortless ease, her first instinct is not to gasp, nor to flail. No, her first instinct is to fight. Her muscles tense instinctively, her fists clenching as if ready to counter, before her brain catches up and realizes—oh. Oh.

- "No way," she breathes, blinking as her lips part in pure, undiluted shock. "No. Freaking. Way." She actually leans back in your hold, looking at you with something between disbelief and sheer respect. "You’re kidding." Her voice wavers with something suspiciously close to laughter. "You did not just pick me up." But you did, and it is glorious.

- And then—because she is Dinah Lance—she grins. "Damn," she exhales, whistling low. "Okay, okay, I see you." And just like that, her shock melts into admiration, her blue eyes practically glowing with mischief. "Guess I better step up my training, huh? Can’t have my own girlfriend outmuscling me." She claps your shoulder when you set her down, shaking her head with a smirk. "That was impressive."

- But from that day forward? Dinah challenges you. Random push-up contests, lifting competitions, anything to test just how strong you really are. And if you ever lift her again? She just throws her head back and laughs, wrapping her arms around your neck and whispering, "Alright, babe—you win this round."

Wally West (The Flash)

- Wally West is used to moving faster than the eye can see, faster than thought, faster than the speed of sound. He is kinetic energy made flesh, a man who cannot be caught, cannot be contained. He is motion incarnate. So when you lift him off his feet—effortlessly—the sheer absurdity of it freezes him in place. His body, which has always been a blur of momentum, stops. And for the first time in his life, Wally West is utterly, completely still.

- "Whoa—whoa, whoa, whoa!" His voice cracks mid-exclamation, his arms flailing comically before his brain catches up. "What just happened? Did I trip? Did I pass out? Did I break the time stream again?" His hands immediately pat down his own chest, as if confirming that he is still in his body, that this is, in fact, reality. But the reality is this: you are holding him, carrying him without effort, and that? That should be impossible.

- His blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly as he stares at you in stunned disbelief. "You picked me up?" The words are barely above a whisper, his voice laced with an almost childlike awe. "You—just—picked me up?" And then, all at once, his expression shifts. His lips curl into a slow, mischievous grin, and a spark of amusement ignites in his gaze. "Oh, I see how it is," he drawls, looping his arms around your neck as if settling in. "You like sweeping me off my feet, huh?"

- From that moment forward, he turns it into a game. He will actively try to surprise you, using his speed to dodge your attempts—only to deliberately slow down at the last second so you can catch him anyway. And when you do? He laughs, bright and carefree, resting his forehead against yours with a smirk. "You got me again," he murmurs, voice warm with adoration. "Guess I’m falling for you all over again."

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

- Victor Stone is not easy to move, let alone lift. He is composed of reinforced titanium alloys, advanced cybernetics, a living fusion of man and machine. He knows exactly how much he weighs. He knows the sheer impossibility of what you are attempting. So when you do—when you lift him without struggle, without hesitation—his internal scanners glitch.

- "No way," he mutters, his voice layered with static interference as if his systems are struggling to process. His red cybernetic eye flickers slightly, running rapid recalibrations, recalculating physics itself. "Hold up—nah, this ain’t right." His brow furrows, fingers flexing as he subtly shifts his weight in your arms, testing your grip. But you do not falter. You hold him—steady, sure, unyielding. And for the first time in years, Victor Stone feels weightless.

- "I don’t know whether to be impressed or offended," he finally says, his tone a perfect balance of deadpan and deep amusement. "Like, damn, babe—this whole time, I thought I was the strong one." But beneath the teasing, there is something softer. Curiosity. Admiration. And something he does not voice, but you know he feels—trust. He has spent years reinforcing himself, ensuring that no one could ever carry him again, that he would never be helpless. And yet, in your arms, he does not feel lesser. He feels safe.

- When you finally set him down, he exhales a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. "Alright, alright—you got me," he admits, rolling his shoulders. "But next time? You gotta let me return the favor." And sure enough, he does. He waits for the perfect moment—when you least expect it—before scooping you up effortlessly, his deep laughter echoing as he grins down at you. "Yeah, see? Feels kinda nice, don’t it?"

Garfield Logan (Beast Boy)

- The moment you lift Garfield Logan, his brain short-circuits. His limbs flail wildly, his mouth opens in a silent gasp, and his entire body goes stiff as if he has just been yeeted into an alternate dimension. His emerald green eyes go comically wide, and his next breath comes out in a strangled, "WH—?!"

- "Did you just—?" His voice cracks mid-sentence. "Did you just pick me up?!" His hands instinctively grasp at your shoulders, but his fingers don’t clutch—they cling, as if his entire existence depends on holding on for dear life. "Dude. Babe. Love of my life. My entire world. Are you—are you even real? Because this? This should be illegal."

- And then, the realization fully hits him. The shock melts into something else. Something dangerous. His lips twitch, his expression morphing into pure gremlin energy. "Ohhh, this changes everything," he cackles, his voice practically vibrating with mischief. "You know what this means, right?" He leans in, his green skin practically glowing with delight. "You are now legally responsible for carrying me everywhere."

- And true to his word, he commits. The moment you set him down, he refuses to accept it. He will dramatically throw himself into your arms at every opportunity. Walking? Nope. Lifting weights? Absolutely not. Why would he ever do that when he has you? "Babe, please," he whines, arms outstretched, giving you the biggest, saddest puppy eyes imaginable. "I was made for this life. I belong in your arms. Carry me. Carry me like one of your French girls."

Lobo

- Lobo is not used to being moved—by anyone. He is a Czarnian, a being of unmatched strength and durability, a walking tank with enough raw power to go toe-to-toe with Superman. He has never been overpowered, never been handled. So when you do it—when you lift him with ease—his entire soul leaves his body.

- "What the frag?!" The expletive leaves him in a near roar, his crimson eyes blazing with shock. His first instinct is to fight, muscles tensing, but then he realizes—you’re not even struggling. You are holding him like he weighs nothing. The Main Man. The Last Czarnian. In your arms. And it is so baffling, so completely ridiculous, that he just... stares.

- And then—then—he starts laughing. Howling. "Oh, this is priceless," he chokes out between laughs, his voice booming. "You just—pfft—you just picked up Lobo like he’s a damn kitten?!" His laughter is raucous, unrestrained, but there is no resentment. No wounded pride. If anything, he looks at you with a newfound respect. "Alright, babe, I see how it is. You got guts."

- But Lobo is not one to be one-upped. "Next time, though?" He leans in close, his grin sharp and challenging. "I ain’t goin’ down without a fight. You wanna sweep me off my feet? You better earn it." And true to his word, he tests you after that—deliberately throwing his weight at you, seeing if you can keep up. And when you do? When you always catch him, every single time? He lets out a deep, satisfied chuckle, wraps a massive arm around your waist, and murmurs, "Damn. I really hit the jackpot, didn’t I?”

[onedingo]

Intro - The Last Crusader

i was benzodiazepinica, benzodiazepinicaa and [the last] myrhodesiandream. All of my accounts were termed and i am really upset with this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About my acc

• well, i mainly post on #tccblr. I also usually post pictures, drawings and other things i like, for example music. I also post on #reichblr. But most of my posts are on #tccblr

• i usually post info posts and curiosities about true crime.

most of my posts are about dylann roof

My info posts about Dylann (in order)

1- dylann's things

2- dylann about race mixing

3- random fact

4- dylann about religion

5- random fact 2

6- uploads about dylann to drive

7- about the drugs dylann took

8- his last.fm account

9- random fact 3

10- random fact 4

11- his 19th family story

12- random fact 5

13- random fact 6

14- dylann drinking water

15- random fact 7

16- his relationship with his stepmother

17- dylann's childhood

18- little info about dylann's trial

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

About tcc

• well, I've been into true crime since i was a child. The cases that made me start researching more were: Elize Matsunaga and the Suzano massacre

• i enjoy murder cases, cases involving sexual violence, serial killers. But my favorite type of criminal case is definitely about terrorist actions, mass shootings or anything else motivated by far-right ideals. I find it very interesting to research these cases because I'm fascinated by politics. So I'll talk a lot about Dylann Roof, Payton Gendron, Anders Breivik, Brenton Tarrant, Stephan Baliet, Alexandre Bissonnette, Robert Bowers, David Copeland, Omar Mateen

+ plus Timothy Mcveigh, Ted K, Dzhokhar

• other cases i like: Elize Matsunaga, the murder of Raissa Eloá Camparelli, Jonbenet Ramsey, Ted Bundy, Andrei Chikatilo, The slenderman case, Jodi Arias, Velma Barfield, the Goiânia Maniac, Gypsy Rose, Realengo Massacre

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

About me

you can call me Mari or Nana!

im brazilian! (proud southeastern nationalist) yes i love football

im a minor

i use she/her

im a Catholic Christian and i love going to the church

english is not my first language and im not fluent. but i can speak english, portuguese and a little spanish

i support such polemic things like jesuítas, bandeirantes, crusades, Estado Novo

im currently studying about fascism

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

My personal interests

music: (nu, heavy, war, doom) metal, post punk, punk rock, nightcore 2000's, hyperpop, DSBM, keller synth, tanzelcore, atmospheric black metal, classic rock, 80s music, rap, trap

- (Black Sabbath, Pantera, Suicidal Tendencies, Linkin Park, Deadlife, NONE, Candlemass, Joy Division, Soviet Soviet, Tenebris) and underground artists!

movies: I like suspense films, psychological films, drama films, action films and national (Brazilian) films

- A Clockwork Orange and O Lobo Atrás da Porta

books: I enjoy Russian literature, drama books, history books (mainly about WW2), Gothic literature, Brazilian and American poems, German literature, mangas

- Siddharta, Dracula, Himizu

I also really like studying, history, philosophy, poetry, sociology, pharmacology, histology, theology, politics, geopolitics, forensics, conspiracy theories, biology, alternative styles, makeup, miniatures (sylvanian families), animals

i like South Park, Hello Kitty, My Little Pony, Pingu, Zika e os camaleões, Os Under-Undergrounds, GHHHH i love Brazil Empire 🇧🇷 I LOVE OTTERS CATS AND PENGUINS AND planarians, portuguese skulls and jellyfish :3

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My hobbies

write, read, draw, study, clean the house, do makeup, listen to music, talk, research what I like, watch documentaries, play with my sylvanians, editing

[lobo-inu]

Hi Lobo 💛 From your OC asks for darling Robin and dearest Miraak… 🐈‍⬛🐉

12. What does their bed and/or desk look like? Tidy or cluttered - are they both the same, or is one neat and the other messy?

THANK YOU NANI <333 this question is very fun, as i really enjoy thinking about their living spaces - so much so that i have a pinterest board for it x)

the two share a bedroom, so their bed is quite large. Robin has always favored more dark/dim and cozy spaces, so their bed is surrounded with long, dark drapes that act as blackout curtains. there's small hanging decorations made of glass, stone, and various trinkets hung up alongside the drapes.

they also have lots of pillows... more than they realistically need, lol. that too is Robin's doing.

as for their desk, they each share one since their bedroom - and their whole house, honestly - is on the smaller side. it sits up against 2 windows, and takes up most of the wall across from the bed. Miraak prefers the desk be neat, and ideally would like minimal decorations and clutter. the more space, the better.

Robin on the other hand is very cluttered. he also likes to display his personal dragon hoard on the desk (keys, coins, stones, glass pieces, amethyst etc). visual stimulation is a big thing for him. and while Miraak understands, they definitely go back-and-forth between a neat desk and a very cluttered, mess-from-last-night-still-there desk.

Miraak and Robin both find their bedroom to be their safe space, and therefore put a lot of effort into making it feel more cozy and personalized. a lot of their free time is either spent in bed napping, or at their desk crafting/writing/etc.

ask me more questions here!

bonus art from @bonestrewncrest that felt appropriate to share in this ask 🖤

[my-little-wraithlings]

Renfield 2023 Masterlist

I have made a great deal of posts about Renfield. My lovely Wraithlings seem to be really enjoying them. So, I thought I'd make a masterlist of the posts for easy access.

Note!: You are free to write fanfics, do fanart, or write accompanying headcanons for any of these posts if you feel the urge.

~*~Z~*~

Fandom Commentary & Analysis:

_ Small comparison of the care of Familiars across fandoms: Link

_ I think Mark needs therapy: Link

_ People need to respect Robert's combat experience: Link

_ Renfield is about growth: Link

_ Renfield is not cop propaganda: Link

_ I'm on the fence about Robert dating post-movie: Link

_ Robert and Rebecca need to be monster hunters: Link

_ Thoughts about Dracula and Renfield's relationship: Link

_ Frustrated thoughts on people thinking Robert is straight: Link

~Z~

Robert Headcanons & Analysis:

_ Headcanon. Robert would collect Shopkins: Link

_ Headcanon. Rebecca gets Robert addicted to plushies: Link

_ Small Analysis. Robert is an interesting character to understand: Link

_ Crossover Headcanon. Robert's pokemon partner: Link

_ Crossover Headcanons. More detail headcanons of Robert and his pokemon partner: Link

_ Headcanon. Renfield loved the majesty of Dracula's castle: Link

_ Headcanon. Robert loves bright colors: Link

_ Headcanon. Renfield has a bit of a religious experience and feels guilty about murder: Link

_ Headcanons. Discussion of Robert's powers post-movie: Link

_ Headcanon. Renfield loves stained glass: Link

_ Analysis. Discussion of Renfield's powers and how Dracula heals him: Link

~Z~

Rebecca Headcanons & Analysis:

_ Headcanon. Rebecca loves sweaters: Link

_

~Z~

Robert and Rebecca Headcanons & Analysis:

_ NSFW Headcanon. Robert tries to refamiliarize himself with intimacy: Link

_ Headcanon. Robert and Rebecca are queer-platonic partners: Link

_ Headcanon. Robert and Rebecca have movie nights: Link

~Z~

Dracula Headcanons & Analysis:

_ Headcanon. Dracula doesn't realize his and Renfield's relationship has changed: Link

_ Headcanon. Dracula is frustrated by Teddy but can't hate him: Link

_ Headcanon. Dracula doesn't like being cold: Link

~Z~

Teddy Lobo Headcanons & Analysis:

_ Small Headcanon. Teddy's tattoos are totally fake: Link

_ Small Headcanon. Teddy loves his bed: Link

_ Headcanon. Teddy wants to impress his mom so bad: Link

_ Headcanon. Teddy sucks at gambling: Link

~Z~

Renfield 2023 Scenarios & Fanfic Ideas:

_ 2 Short scenarios based around Robert and Rebecca. The first is about a petstore and the second is about the beach: Link

_ Short one-shot fic. Rebert starts to fall into old habits and Rebecca has to navigate the negative situation: Link

_ Short scenario. Robert tells Rebecca about a new potential danger to the city: Link

_ Monster Hunter AU Scenario: Link

_ Long scenario, Whump. Robert is ambushed while getting a package for a friend: Link

_ Long scenario. Robert does on a date. it goes great until it doesn't: Link

_ A series of 4 short hurt/comfort scenarios. Two are based around Robert's life post-move. And 2 are based around Renfield's life pre-movie: Link

_ Short Scenario. Robert works through the pain and exhaustion after the Dracula battle: Link

_ Short Scenario. Renfield/Willy's Wonderland crossover: Link

~Z~

Fanart:

_ A simple pic of Robert with flowers: Link

_ Renfield and his litwick: Link

[popironrye]

Dracfield Fanfic Preview

I'm having a blast working on this big dracfield fanfic I have, but it's a slow process. To make myself feel better I wanted to post a little snip bit as like a preview without actually spoiling the largest part of the story. Here's the summary for a little context: In order to get out of a sticky situation, Teddy Lobo pressures Renfield into doing cocaine and the results are messy. Leading to Dracula having to aid his loyal servant in the simple task of getting cleaned up. This little section is heavily implied Tedfield for funsies, but let it be known that this story is not a tedfield fic. So I hope not to disappoint people by clarifying this is the extent of any tedfield stuff really since the story is about dracfield, but let me know if I should write a full blown tedfield fic. :3

What started as one bottle of tequila turned into a second. Then a third. But that wasn’t enough for Teddy. Robert timidly downed as many drinks as Teddy and his entourage handed him. He wasn’t much of a heavy drinker. Being inebriated to such a level would spell disaster not only for his master but also himself. He would surely fail his master by being too drunk to function or at worst, protect him when he needed it. Still though, Robert was always a social drinker and you couldn’t get any more social than being around Teddy and the Lobo gang. Hollering, laughing, and carrying on like the tightest of friends. It wasn’t long before the scenery switched from the Lobo home to a rowdy bar where the drinks continued to flow, to the point where Robert was starting to wobble. Teddy was absolutely sloshed from the beginning, but that didn’t stop him from being the fun loving center of attention. He was really good at that, even as his declarations of a good time became nearly incomprehensible with all the slurring he was doing. He tumbled into furniture and people alike. It was a little amusing to Robert to see the man in such a state.

After Teddy flailed an arm firmly over his shoulder, probably as a way to keep himself more steady, Robert decided it was probably for the best that Teddy be taken home. Everyone else was way too busy enjoying themselves in their own drunken worlds so Robert decided he’d get Teddy home first and come back for everyone else later. While his legs were a little shaky, not helped by how fidgety Teddy was being, Robert was still in his right mind to get back home. Practically dragging Teddy out into the parking lot, with one of Teddy’s arms over his shoulder holding his wrist and his other hand holding firmly on Teddy’s waist to keep his legs from dragging against the ground. Robert was surprised with how little resistance he was getting. Usually Teddy would fight against his grip to keep partying but he seemed content being led away by him. Mumbling under his breath too quiet and too garbled for Robert to fully understand him. Teddy leaned his weight against him, nuzzling his nose into the side of Robert’s neck, causing him to sharply suck a breath in through his teeth. His body let out an involuntary shudder and he felt Teddy smile against his skin. He was getting a kick out of that. Robert grumbled to himself. Smug little twit. Still he smiled. The sensation of the other man pushing his weight against him; trusting him to practically glide him back to the car was nice. The feeling of his warm breath against his pulse point was more intoxicating than the alcohol in his system. The feeling of having someone, anyone relying on him again made his chest flutter. Robert sighed, how quick he was to feel this way was almost shameful. He’d be damned if the slightest bit of touch was all it took to light a fire in his soul and yet, any sensible person could tell he was damned a long time ago. Once he made it back to the car, Robert had to lean Teddy’s body against his side, hoisting him up with one arm as he opened the door with the other. He gently laid Teddy down across the seats. With a slight jostle, Teddy shifted over to glance up at him. Eyes glossy, lips slightly parted as he took short breaths. His chest heaving as he rested his cheek into the leather. His entire face flushed, no doubt from all the alcohol and his once tightly slicked back hair had strands falling all over the place. “Robert…” He muffled softly. The sound of his name coming from Teddy so tenderly brought heat from his core to his cheeks. How he wondered how sweet it would sound to make Teddy call out his name like that more…no! No, he thought. What the hell was wrong with him? He was grateful Teddy had no insight into his mind like his master did. Not that it would have mattered regardless at this moment. Robert prodded Teddy’s leg with his finger tip. He was completely out cold. Robert sighed as he stood a moment letting the night air cool his face. It was only then when his mind was clear from worrying about Teddy and the buzz in his system began to ease that he had the feeling he was being watched. Before he could step back to close the door, he felt a strong pair of hands clasp against the back of his shirt and the other firmly pressed on the back of his head. Before he could even react he was forced violently forward, having his brow line smashed against the top of the inner frame. Robert stayed on his feet but his unseen assailant was quick to lay a few body blows and ended with a hard stomp in the back of his knee. Robert landed against the pavement, he gritted his teeth as he felt the flesh of his palms scrap against the ground. While he was down the man who assaulted him made quick work of the fight with a swift kick right into the side of Robert’s jaw and everything went black.

[ariesqueencobra]

about me

hi! i started this blog recently because i want to write some cobra kai fics! here's a little bit about me!

i love cobra kai, obvi, i've rewatched the show about six times already

i'm obsessed with xolo maridueña

i enjoy listening to the lone lobos podcast

i think sam and demetri have a cute friendship

chris is a funny and underrated character

i HAVE watched the original trilogy and it only made me love the series even more

i will not tolerate any sam slander or any slander on female characters for that matter!

johnny and carmen are my loves

amanda is so freaking funny

there is not one cobra kai character i don't like, i honestly think all of the characters are strong individually and are so interesting and well-rounded on their own

besides cobra kai, i like....

anything superhero (big fan of blue beetle)

i like the try guys (without a recipe = christmas time)

i love the sims (i spend three hours creating a sim and six hours building a house to play for twenty minutes)

i love reading (romance books are my ride or die, i'm a hopeless romantic, what can i say?)

i love painting my nails (holo taco for those who know)

i'm a fairycore/cottagegirl girly (anything with a mushroom on it really)

i love tinkerbell movies

cinderella is my favorite disney princess

my love for pomegranates have made a big chunk of my personality (idk why)

i paint in my free time

spider-man is my favorite superhero

if i could have any power, it would be pyrokinesis

i'm mexican

i'm bisexual (no homophobes on this blog)

jenna ortega, chloe bailey, keke palmer and renee rapp are the most beautiful women to ever walk the planet

i love mean girls

musicals are my fave (i do need to watch more though)

[zoophagist]

My main take on "Renfield" is that for a movie that was supposed to focus on trauma/abuse, they sure defanged their characters a whole lot. So your Renfield doesn't have any explicit psychiatric trauma and goes to serve Dracula just because his wife and kid have gotten annoying. Willingly. You have a Dracula whose attacks are never sexual and who actually kinda-sorta gives a damn about someone. And the familiar magic doesn't even have any side-effects worth writing home about. Also Teddy Lobo is a bae and he deserves more than this antisemitic narrative all the goys have eaten up because "he's so pathetic uwu"

^^^ real. i said it the second i came back from the premiere but teddy lobo was the only bitch in this movie with true renfield energy. tedward deserves respect and also many fanfics.

yeah, on the whole though.... i think they were much too worried about appealing to a mainstream action audience and didn't let the project do the fun, weird, dark things it could have been capable of. i get what they wanted to say with the "you chose this willingly and you need to take back your agency willingly" (i do. i REALLY, really get it) but that is a silly thing to say about familiars - that you gave dracula your power and you need to take it back for yourself. like. materially, no. and RE: the wife and child - yes, that's something i found phoned in. i kept waiting for another shoe to drop about that family relationship that explains what drove renfield to dracula or made it more interesting (at least when barbara hambly did the wife and child shtick in 'renfield: slave of dracula' it had a fun, fucked up twist in the end!) but it really just never came. they just existed and he just left them to go be dracula's twink-on-demand. for fun. messed up that that's not even played for laughs OR homoeroticism. dw it's still inherently gay tho. falsettos vc: so the situation's this (i do not wish to offend) - i divorced my wife, i left my child, and i ran off with a friend :)

i definitely understand your take. i think i never expected it to go that hard in the darkness so i wasn't as let down, but the glimpses of something more serious or dark were the moments i enjoyed most. the ren/drac confrontation in renfield's apartment, for instance, that lets dracula really command the space and show us what's kept renfield stuck for 90 years. but alas, only glimpses of the movie this could have been in a better timeline.

[georgesportsjournalismri]

The Ocean State Sports Connoisseur

The Rhode Island sports world consists of lots of great athletes that deserve to be recognized, and Brendan McGair of the Pawtucket Times and Woonsocket Call is the man who’s been doing it for the past decade. McGair is a native of Pawtucket, Rhode Island who attended Providence College in the early 2000s but did not major in journalism as it was not an offered course by the school. He interned for a newspaper in Newport, and it landed him a job with the Pawtucket Times directly out of college covering the Pawtucket Red Sox mainly from 2005 until their move to Worcester just a couple of years ago. This was a dream for McGair, an avid baseball and New England sports fan, who got to cover his hometown team and watch the rise of guys like Mookie Betts and Xander Bogaerts through the red sox minor league system. He covers all high school sports but mainly baseball, football, and a little bit of basketball for the northern towns of Rhode Island. He also covers the Patriots, Red Sox, and Celtics throughout their respective seasons. McGair cherishes his time as a sports journalist as it opens up avenues for others in the realm of sports and is very passionate about highlighting young athletes aspiring for greatness. McGair highlights that his love for sports and writing helped evolve him into the role he possesses today while noting some of the most notable players he has covered and why he believes he is making a difference for others.

: Hello, this is Brendan.

B: Hello.

A: Yes, hello.

B: Is this McGar?

A: George.

B: How are you? How are you doing?

A: What's up, buddy? How are you?

B: I'm good, thank you. Before we get into it, I just want to explain a little about this project I have to do, just so you understand a little bit more about it. It's basically, I'm taking a media writing class, and we basically have to, like, create, like, a blog post and then, like, a photo essay, basically about any topic in media. And I just. I chose to do sports writing as it's something I'm passionate about. And I thought there was no one better to get your opinion on it than you, considering you covered us for years and all that stuff.

A: Yeah.

B: So, yeah, absolutely.

A: Anything for you.

B: Thank you. Thank you very much. So, first off, I just want to know how you got into sports journalism. I know you started with the Pawtucket Red Sox, correct?

A: Yeah, I did. I mean, I went to PC. They didn't have a journalism program, so I. I interned at the Newport Daily dues, and I was fortunate I graduated from school. I grad. I got a job right out of it. And, you know, I been at Pawtucket time since 2005. And, you know, I guess they could say the rest is say is history.

B: Yeah. Coming up on 20 years there. Yeah. And so, I'm assuming, have you always been passionate about sports journalism? Like, when did you figure out that was, like, something that you wanted to do?

A: So, I mean, I started writing for my college paper and I covered hockey at PC, so I was, you know, I kind of always enjoyed watching the game from, you know, having a critical eye, so to speak, and observing everything.

B: Yeah.

A: And I thought, you know, I enjoy writing, and I was like, you know, it's. It's still could be a way to be involved in games I love and, you know, telling great stories and. And I didn't think it would get to be this point, but, you know, Lobo, hold. Here we are.

B: Yep. Yep. Now, besides, I mean, obviously, Cumberland high school run two years ago. What are some of, like, the notable runs or players that you've really covered?

A: Let's see. Oh, God. So, you know, if you want to go through, like, the PawSox people, you know.

B: Yeah.

A: You know, I covered, I covered, like, Mookie Betts, Xander Bogarts, John Lester. You know, all those guys went on to, you know, win championships in Boston. Well, yeah, yeah, actually, at Lester did. Um. Uh, so those were. Guys were special. Uh, I'm trying to think the high school. Well, I can't. Well, we can always say Jack Larose, but that'd be a stretch of truth, probably. Uh, yeah.

B: Yeah. I mean, in a couple years, that. That name will be pretty notable, so.

A: That's huge. Trying to think. Who else? I mean, you know, even I. Okay, I get a perfect example. Jayden Struble. He played up a couple of American little League teams that went down World Series ten years ago, and now he's, you know, I guess he's hurt right now, too. I think I saw him scratch.

B: Yeah. Yeah, I don't think. I don't think he's playing either. I believe he got hurt in the offseason. Yeah.

A: Well, you know, he made it. He got drafted by the Canadians and he made it up there. So that's. That's a pretty unbelievable story.

B: Yeah, definitely. So just with all that, would you say that, like, baseball is, like, your favorite sport to cover?

A: Yeah. I mean, I would say because obviously the years that I had to do with the PawSox.

B: Yeah.

A: You know, that obviously. Legion. I always loved high school baseball.

B: Yeah.

A: And, you know, that's my go to. I mean, I do enjoy basketball a lot. You know, basketball in the winter. Yeah. In high school, too. But I would say baseball is probably my go to.

A: So, yeah, there's a, there's a lot of Uri kids. You know, obviously, it's a huge pipeline down there, but, yeah, I'm trying to think what else. What I, you know. You know, actually, one of my big memories of when I first started my first year at the time is when I was. I got to go to the NCAA tournament. When it was up in Worcester, TJ Sorrentino hit a huge shot.

B: Yeah.

A: Syracuse in the first round of the tournament. So it was an upset. I think it was a 512 or maybe a 413.

B: Yeah, it was one of the two. I vaguely remember this.

A: Yeah. So that was huge. That was a huge moment.

B: For sure. Now, what, over the years, do you think has helped you, like, progress as a. As a sports journalist and now you do. You do broadcast as well, right?

A: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I did a broadcast this afternoon. So, I guess one thing I've learned, it's like, you know, when I first started, it was just, you know, you go to the game, you write the story, you take a few phone calls from games you didn't go to, and you called it a night. Now it's like, you know, down there, see, there's the social media component that you're doing. Maybe there's a broadcasting element that is added to it. I guess. I guess the one thing that I would say is, like, you know, you got to keep adding tools to the toolbox. They talk about, you know, baseball players who can play multiple positions. So, kind of like, you got to be. You got to be the journalist back here, you know, not only. Right, but maybe take photos, as crappy as they might be of your cell phone, post to social media, you know, maybe even dabble in the broadcasting world.

B: Yeah, yeah. I think those. Those interviews you post of people really help, not just, like, the whole aspect of Rhode Island sports grow, and, like, people really understand, like, what's going through these kids heads. Like, I think that's, I mean, a great thing to do, especially last week with the. The rayon Ray interview. That was. That was very. That was good. That was cool to see.

A: Yeah, well, because, I mean, I actually did a story about it, but I'm going to post it for tomorrow. But I was um.

B: Got it.

B: Okay. Yeah. No, I mean anytime I can all. I can take any sort of pictures. Even if it's after the game of you interviewing someone or a picture of you. During the game or whatever it is. I only need a couple photos.

B: Got it.

A: Yeah.

B: Like severity. And that was. That was. We were technically part of the same catholic league. But weekly never. We didn't. We didn't cross over at all. Basically.

B: Yeah. No, for the better. I don't want to say I wasn't a fan of the last coach, but I wasn't a fan. I don't think a lot. I don't think a lot of people were. No, but. But, yeah, conferences are, definitely a thing in Massachusetts. It's all. It's all in a point system as well.

B: Yep. It's interesting because I feel like the system changes every single year, especially for football.

B: Yep. Now with sports journalism, just in a sense, what do you think are some of, like, the most important aspects of being a journalist? Like, what are some things you got to be really good at to succeed in your writing?

A: And I think, you know, I think, you know, you have to have an eye for detail. And, you know, I go back to maybe your first upper deck practice when I came to talk to you and JJ because, yeah, you know, I knew the story about you guys because, you know, I covered you enough, but you had to know the details in the sense that, okay, there's two kids who are coming off their freshman year, college, and they're joining a legion team. You know, a lot of these kids have kind of just covered off their high school season. They're kind of like their spring training, or is it. Did you guys, like, I asked you, like, did you guys work out the winter? Did you, what school ended? Is that what your ramp up period? Was it difficult to find, like a workout buddy or. Because, you know, JJ catcher, you're a pitcher with easy to do. You have to kind of know the details a little bit coming in. And I think you always have to have an observing eye, not just a critical eye, but observing eye as well.

B: Now, when you're going to these games, obviously, do you pick the games you go to or, like, your newspaper? That does it.

A: So. So I do. When I do the broadcast, what I do, I mean, I go to that game and I obviously, you know, it's usually one of my teams I cover, so it's kind of. It's determined for me. But, you know, if it's not a game that I don't have a broadcast or I want a responsibility to, I'll just go to myself. I'll just go to a game that I just picked.

B: Got it. Got it. Yep. Now, this summer is coming up, cover. Are you just going to be covering up Upper deck again or no?

A: Oh, yeah. I mean, it's going to be.

B: Obviously, it's going to be way different. Yeah, I know.

A: I don't know. I don't know how you know, because I chucked it up as a last dance for all you guys. I don't know how intensive, covering it like I was, but, you know, because it was a last hurrah, so to speak. It's kind of.

B: Yeah.

A: Who's going to be there, obviously, at this point?

B: Yeah, I don't.

A: Yeah, we don't even. I would assume maybe Kelly's the coach, but who knows?

B: Yeah, no, I think so. I think Kelly is the coach. I don't know if that's information I'm not supposed to share, but I'm almost.

B: Yeah. So, what do you think the impact sports journalism has on sports in general and just, I mean, society?

A: Well, I think there's two different ways to look at it. You can look at the local level, like, you know, when I go to an upper deck game or high school game, you know, you see all the parents, you know, and everything, and they know you're there. You know, they'll go get the paper. But at the professional level, like, say, if you go to Gillette Stadium or Fenway Park, you know, your kind of like the bridge between, you know, the team and the fans a little bit. It's a little more, you know, you're like the link or so to speak, because you have the quote unquote, inside access to go to the clubhouse, to go to the locker room to go to the press conferences. So, it's different. I guess it's based on, you know, where you are, what's, what's the setting, whether it's, you know, Chet Nichols field.

B: Or, or Fenway Park now with. Do you come to the Patriots at all or no.

A: Yes, I do.

B: Will you be at the game this Sunday or with the Drake Maye news or Okay, that's gonna be an interesting one. I think you might. I think you might get killed out there, but we'll see what happens.

A: I think you might get killed too, but that's. Well, I guess we'll reserve judgment. Maybe the offensive line will snap to focus, and something will be different. I tend to doubt it because. Yeah, they're a horrible unit, but.

B: Yeah, it's. It's pitiful to watch. It's really tough, for sure. All right, I don't think I have any more questions, but thank you very much for the call, and I'll see you on Friday.

A: Absolutely. Absolutely. Yep. I will see you Friday. Come to the booth and I.

B: All right.

A: I will assist.

B: All right. Thank you very much.

A: All right, George. Take care. Bye bye.

B: You as well. Bye.

[flingmetothemoon]

Marward fanfic - Soothe me to sleep

Movies: Dracula's Daughter (1936) and Renfield (2023)

Characters: Countess Marya Zaleska (DD), Tedward 'Teddy' Lobo, his sister Mandy, his henchmen, Robert Montague Renfield and Dracula (Renfield)

Relationships: Tedward Lobo/Countess Marya Zeleska and discussed Dracula/Robert Montague Renfield

Scenario inspiration: I wonder it would be like to write a setting where Teddy has a hard time adapting to living with monster life enough to not have a good beauty sleep. Which place are the characters having a vacation at? My idea is somewhere in Transylvania, but it's ultimately up to your imagination. I left the setting's location vague for that purpose! ^^

Summary: Teddy gets nervous sleeping out in the wilderness and finds Marya for security

Content warning: Mild language and mentions of Dracula being abusive

Now grab a snack, sit back, relax and enjoy reading! C:

He can't believe this is happening... Camping on a nice vacation away from crime shit in a closed system where he feels trapped in the most and Teddy can't fall asleep. He's been having this struggle for half an hour now.

It's not that he's cold. As a matter of fact, he actually feels too warm snuggling up to Ricky, Ronnie and Mandy in a huge wagon carried by six huge, magnificent alicorns belonging to the legendary Dracula family.

Rather it's the strange, eerie sounds from the distance striking fear in him. Howling wolves and misty winds along with occasional strange inhuman growling. He wonders if there are zombies wandering around nearby. Maybe he's just not used to sleeping in his cozy indoor bed back at home…

How is he going to sleep like this? Where is Dracula's daughter when he needs her?

Wait a minute…

“Maybe I should go to sleep with her instead so she could protect me…” Teddy muses to himself

A distant howl growing closer validates his intuition: Yes he should find security.

Good thing he's on the left edge of the snuggle puddle, making it easier for him to carefully roll off and lift the blankets off him with ease. And good thing he has no need to waste time putting clothes on, putting himself at risk of making more noise than needed, for he's already wearing maroon leopard-printed sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt, black cotton socks and gloves as his pajamas. All he needs to do left is throw on his black slip-on sneakers and quickly grab the keys to open the right side door.

He unlocks and pushes out the door slowly to reduce as little noise as possible. He takes one step down a wooden step and looks back to check if he woke anyone up. He did not, fortunately. Mandy and the boys are knocked out cold, blissfully unaware of the surroundings enfolding around them, with Ronnie even talking to himself in his sleep, sounding like he's mumbling about beer or something. How are they able to sleep through the uncomfortable noises coming from outside Teddy cannot fathom…

Now closing and locking the door equally carefully, Teddy begins taking a stroll out into the wilderness, hiding the keys onto his sweatpants pocket. He glances back to check out the alicorns. These alicorns truly are majestic!

These alicorns are no ordinary horses. They are bigger, stronger and faster. Their long, strong wings are like those of an owl, and its horns are two-pronged like a deer's horns, rather than a single central horn like the unicorns depicted in the media. Pretty creative if he says so himself. These horses really are supernatural monsters bred by magical experimenting as much as their vampiric owners are.

Teddy glances around as he continues strolling and does have to say the scenery sure is beautiful. A dark sky filled with a bunch of bright, twinkling stars with little light pollution, the bright pearlescent moon, the moonlight reflecting on the water and plants… At least he would've admired the scene more if not for his fear of potential dangers of sleeping out in the wilderness. Then again, not like the city he was raised in is exactly a paradise either.

Finally, there she is: The long haired pale woman clothed in royal red, purple and blue sitting on top of a tree, also admiring the scenery. He wonders what Marya is thinking about right now.

Little did he know that while he was struggling to fall asleep a few minutes ago, Marya too had troublesome thoughts that prevented her from having a good night's rest. While it's true she doesn't technically feel the same psychological need for eight hours of sleep throughout the night Teddy feels, she still likes to lay down and close her eyes during relaxation times.

Marya wonders how long ago it has been since she was like this: A cold-blooded bloodsucker creature raised to be the daughter of that man… Dracula… The man responsible for the misfortunes and suffering of many mortals and immortals alike for many years, impersonal even with his own servants, such as that… That Renfield…

She is still unable to fathom to this day how much self-loathing and lack of loyalty that young man must’ve had to leave his wife and daughter to grovel at the feet of a man who could literally rip his face off, snap his neck, maim him limb to limb and reduce his organs and bones to pure ash and he would come back to continue to worship the ground the vampire walks on like a maniac as if none of it ever happened, as if he is some sort of God, despite her many years of experience of living with him showing time and time again that Dracula is anything but godly.

If anything, Dracula has more of a personality of the Devil than God. He is cruel, abusive, manipulative, narcissistic, violent, unstable-tempered, views everyone but him as mere valueless ants. Living with him day by day felt like being in hell. Now whether that Renfield is still alive or not to this day, she doesn't know – Nor care quite frankly.

And now that she herself has found a new friend that goes by the name of Tedward Lobo, her new fear is he will suffer the same fate if he were to meet Dracula. He had expressed a desire to partner up with the vampire before. His reasoning is that if the Draculas and Lobos teamed up, they each get twice as powerful, inspire more fear and respect amongst more citizens, travel the world with their majestic wagons, and his mother will never have to worry about the future of the family business ever again!

How did that young wolf put that much thought into such a scenario like this? The problem is that's not what Marya wanted. She wants to inspire pity, not fear. Not only that, but his fantasy sounded so unrealistic it sounds better off staying as a mere fantasy.

There's also the fact that Marya doesn't have full faith in Dracula's world domination plans. He is certainly powerful that's for sure, but he's also older, socially inept, demanding and too lazy to find his own food instead of relying on younger servants to do his bidding for him. Marya isn't upset at Teddy for not knowing the whole story, but she worries he's placing really high hopes on a guy who, in spite of his power and influence, really isn't that great.

…Perhaps that's how life is going to be for her for now on... She is doomed to live a long, miserable life where everyone around her throws their arms onto her abuser for their personal gain and eventually die and be reduced to dust while her soul remains forev-

“Hey, my Dracy baby?”

She opens her glossy eyes upon hearing a familiar voice interrupt her and turns her head to see him “What do you need?”

“Hey umm- Shit-” Teddy hated having to look up at a strong woman that has a power advantage over him with such big wet eyes. He hated appearing to be a warm and soft emo instead of a cold and tough bad boy who is the ruler of the town and has it all together. It's embarrassing as fuck! His eyes shift down to the ground as he tries with all of his might to keep them from pooling. “I-I'm too scared to sleep…”

Marya's right ear perks upwards slightly as she wonders what could possibly disturb this young wolf’s slumber during such a quiet, peaceful night. “Scared about what?”

“Well, I-I keep hearing weird noises outside, and they sound terrifying… I worry they're gonna come and fucking eat me damnit…!” Teddy lamented, trying really hard to shove fear and sadness down under control so as to not make the vampire woman view him through judgmental or less manly lenses. Why is he getting so emotional all the sudden? Perhaps the Quincy break up incident trauma kicked in?

Even without telepathic abilities, Marya can still zoom in her cat vision to read into the broken soul of those big wet brown eyes: A typical rich kid, seemingly given everything he could ever possibly ask for – Money, a mansion, comfortable furniture, flashy gifts, designer brand clothing, weapons, – What else could he possibly ask for?

Affection. Attention. Validation. Human needs. Love. Emotional support. These were the ingredients this lonely boy was missing.

Jumping off the tree and gently floating down to the ground in her cloudy skirt parachute, Marya strokes her freezing cold fingers onto Teddy's warm skin to brush an ungelled hair lock off of his distressed eyes.

Something about the colliding of contrasting temperatures cause by the woman's touch completely lowered his emotional barriers and hot tears start escaping from his pretty eyes

“Sorry… I-I didn't mean to-” He mutters under his shaking sobs. Each passing second, the wolf feels so embarrassed that he would allow anyone to see him in such a state like this, let alone a woman who isn't his mom.

Marya on the other hand doesn't feel that way. She's familiar with such a feeling for as long as she can remember. “What's the point of worrying, Teddy? There's no shame in feeling fear. It's a human emotion we all have at some point of time.”

Ironic that these words are coming from a supernatural creature most of humanity wouldn't consider as human. Then again Teddy, a mobster known for being a drugged up rage monster, rarely ever gets a chance to feel human back in New Orleans. He doesn't remember the last time anyone ever told him those words in such a caring tone before.

“M-Marya, Can I… Have a-” He can feel his face redding from what he's about to ask her. “-Hug please…?” He can't believe he asked a vampire for a hug! It's humiliating enough for a grown man, who is also a thug, to ask another grown person for a hug, but asking a vampire? Of all creatures? He must've gone insanely fucked in the head to do that! What would that vampire think of such a stupid request?

The vampire is surprised. No one has asked her for a hug in a LONG time! No one would DARE make such a request for a vampire unless they're a truly affectionate familiar. Now that makes her wonder… Has Dracula and Renfield ever hugged before? She honestly doesn't remember a time she saw them do. Their “affection” with each other usually consists of strange punishments and God play.

Nonetheless, she smiles. “Your request is granted with pleasure” She wraps her arms around Teddy without hesitation, pulling him closer to her body. The contrasting body temperatures collide again. Teddy's warmth warms Marya's gloomy cold and Marya's chill cools off Teddy's fiery hothead.

Marya realizes that her crimson eyes are also welling with tears. Why? Did she miss hugs that much? Is she that happy to give love and affection to a wounded soul who asked for such things? It doesn't matter, she is so happy to give physical affection, she's not even concerned about Dracula for now.

Teddy's sobs slowly dwindles down and his once tense composure relaxes. He is so happy that the vampire doesn't look down on him for his weaker side. He's so happy, he's not even flinching at the nearby howling that can still be heard in the distance. He is reassured that Marya is his guardian angel and won't let any scary monsters harm him.

“Marya, can I-” He yawns, beginning to feel his body finally grow into a tired weariness, a feeling he wished he felt if not for his fear half an hour ago. “-Sleep in your arms tonight…? I feel safe with you.”

“Your second request is granted with absolute pleasure, for it seems my night won't be a lonely one either” It's been almost 100 years of her life since Marya felt her cold heart lighten from feeling loved. She carries her new Lobo friend bridal style and hops bullet-speed fast and high back to her tree spot and sits back, still carrying him onto her arms and stroking his clammy forehead in order to soothe him to sleep.

Teddy yawns, his now tired eyes fighting to stay awake. “Don't you think you should carry me back to the others so they don't worry about me when they see I disappeared?”

The Lobo was right, Marya didn't think about that. But she reassures “At best, they'll most likely assume you're merely out searching for breakfast. But if it makes them feel better, I'll put you back with them when the sun comes out so I don't burn into ashes”

Now something else just occurred to him, “Would they be safe out there by themselves too? What if something happens to them while I wasn't around to protect them?”

“They're safe too, Teddy, I made sure to mark my blood on the wagon so potential enemies can smell me from a mile away as a way of letting them know to keep a good distance away from us” If Teddy wasn't struggling to not fall asleep right on the spot, he would be a bit worried that the female Dracula family member was cutting herself just to mark her territory.

But as she looks down at him upon noticing his lack of response, he has already fallen asleep, snoring sweet nothings to himself. Marya slightly chuckles to herself, finding his snoring amusing. She resumes relaxing and scenery-gazing throughout the night.

“Thank you, Adonai and Azrael.” The young woman is convinced that this young man is an answer to her prayers.

THE END

You can also read it on AO3 and DeviantART

It's 50% not intentional, but I love how while I was halfway of writing this, this story shows that while Teddy self-proclaims himself as the Yin to Renfield's Yang in a rivalry sense, personality and symbolic wise, he actually would be the Yang to Marya's Yin in a more intimate sense.

Kudos to castleofcuntdracula for providing the Yin/Yang dynamic example image in the Rebecca Quincy post! :3

[therhythmafterthesummer]

Why reading your rewritten work feels like reading something new? Maybe I'm just excited to read your writing again... I hope your writing block is better now and you can enjoy writing again!

Oh, also!!! What do you think of ATE? Which song is your favourite? ~ 🖤

thank you, bby💜💜💜 i really appreciate you saying that. one of the things i like of going back and reworking some of my stuff is being able to add some small and seemingly nonessential details (and also removing some questionable grammar choices....). if i read something of mine and i feel like it can be improved, i'll try to do it at some point lol

my block is, unfortunately, still going strong... i have a day or two a week (or every couple of weeks....) where i do manage to write some, but ooof... my brain... it's not cooperating.

it's fine. it'll come to an end eventually and i'll be able to get these stories out of my head once and for all.

regarding ATE!!

i think it's a good album overall. is it SKZ's best? honestly no. but i enjoyed it nonetheless! chk chk boom is such a catchy song and it really makes my inner latina happy (they call themselves lobos for crying out loud... they dID THAT FOR ME!!!). i love the visuals of the album itself??? like the two photoshoots make me feral for completely different reasons and i just really enjoyed them.

i don't think i've got a favourite song just yet 🤔 jjam is pretty good but i'm not sure if i'll call it my favourite? i also love how i like it sounds but the lyrics give me the biggest ick so i cant pick it as a favourite sidffhnsdf

what about you, bby? did you enjoy it?? do you have a favourite song??

[spectaculardistractions]

From Carlos Saura

Madrid, 10 November 1972

Dear Luis, It’s been such a long since I’ve had any news of you, I think it must be since you went back to Mexico just before Christmas 1971, in other words almost a year ago now. In all that time, I’ve been about to write to you so often, and maybe even did, I can’t remember, but in the end, I decided to wait to see you in person. Unfortunately, that didn’t work out, because when you were in Paris making The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, I was in Madrid working on my latest film, Ana y los lobos, which, after endless ups and downs of all kinds, I have finally completed, although we are still waiting for the go-ahead from the censor to screen it in Spain. We’ll see…

I was finally able to see The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie a couple of days ago, in Geneva. And that is mainly why I’m writing. First, to say it is a wonderful film, possibly one of your best, if not your very best. Wonderful, Luis. I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for a long time. Not since The Milky Way, I think. This time, Luis, I think you have found the perfect balance between a whole series of things that, although they crop up in your other films, come together here to form a unified whole. And, most of all, it is your most naked film, in the sense that it is the most personal, or if you like, the film in which you reveal the most of yourself. And not only because there are so many allusions to your friends and yourself, but also because the memories (I imagine from childhood) have such strength and presence, and are inserted so boldly into the narrative that you have automatically taken that extremely difficult leap (to which I believe a good few of us are committed) from immediate reality to that other plane of imaginative, dreamt, or hallucinated reality. That marvellous leap where the lucid reality of traditional narrative turns to nightmare.

I don’t know, Luis, there are so many things I’d like to discuss with you. I hate writing. I find it really laborious and prefer not to do it. Although I do find it less difficult to write to you, if I’m honest.

I was a bit worried by the systemic presence of death in the film. Most of the dream-realities end in, or are interrupted by, death, generally violent deaths, even suicidal in some cases. I don’t recall such an, almost obsessive, presence of death in any of your other films.

In your case it soothes me to remember though that, as Octavio Paz said: ‘the fascination with death is not so much a trait of adulthood or of old age, but of youth.’

Luis, an enormous hug. Best wishes to your wife. I hope to see you very soon, Saura

[PS] and Gerarda.

Jo Evans & Breixo Viejo, Luis Buñuel: A Life in Letters

[zahri-melitor]

And I have read everything! Comments on the titles below, but overall this was a remarkably satisfying set of stories to pick up? Several titles where that run is on my list to read, a few others I just thoroughly enjoyed anyway.

Really only two things I strongly didn't care for (Bob, the Galactic Bum and Brooklyn Dreams); and Deathwish and The Batman Adventures I was seriously lacking in context for what was happening so couldn't really judge my response.

Good practice stretching the 'how to pick up an issue in a run I don't know' muscles.

Interesting way to take a look at what was being published. I think I'll do it again.

Action Comics #708: 1995 is a peak period of Superman comics. This is delightful. Not only does it have Scott and Barda (and thus a death trap for Scott to escape), but Clark starts the issue shaving with heat vision (and his shirt completely open in the bathroom, tits out), he’s head over heels for Lois, Lois can’t spell, their flirting is delightful as they discuss honeymoon options… yeah.

Also there’s a villain called Deathtrap who is using Apokolips technology to imprison Superman (Scott turning up is a bonus).

Aquaman #7: oh this is PAD Aquaman and has Koryak! …also this is when Arthur was still hot for Dolphin. Ah. Yes. Kako has been captured and there’s some Darkseid-worshiping demon beings causing problems? Also Garth’s gotten captured and tied up.

I enjoyed Koryak’s rage here. It was very satisfying.

Batman: Gotham Nights II #1: This is a Jim Ostrander miniseries! And oh, the emotions in it. This miniseries is about a handful of ordinary people in Gotham, some of whom live on a World's Fair fantasy of an amusement park called Little Paris built in the middle of the Gotham Harbour. I'm definitely going to come back for the rest of it.

If you love dramatic art of Gotham as a city, Mary Mitchell makes it look amazing.

Bob, the Galactic Bum #2: So this is very much a Lobo story. I tend to not enjoy them, and what's worse is this one has Alan Grant writing a very stereotypical cockney sort of space traveller who owes more than a little to both Red Dwarf and Hitchhiker's Guide.

Brooklyn Dreams #3: What's your patience for Jim DeMatteis's semi-autobiographical interrogation of a 40 something protagonist recounting the events of 1970 and his senior year at school, with a lot of literary and psychological references and asides?

It's a complete rambling wank, but I'm sure it appeals to some people.

Catwoman #19: Hello Jim Balent. Selina's costume gets torn to shreds in a plane crash at the start of the issue and stays that way.

Okay, Balent's horniness aside, in this fine comic written by Chuck Dixon, Selina travels to South America to *check notes* find an old Nazi base and invade their stockade to tape an interview with said Nazi (as both she and the dude are being blackmailed by fences). Yes, it's offensive, but in that way Dixon sometimes has that it almost comes back out the other side? These ancient South American Nazis are convinced that they're being attacked by The Bolsheviks, for instance (in the 1990s!) to which Selina responds "I'm not even registered to vote!"

Yeah.

Damage #11: oh yeah, as I read this I'm reminded that Grant is technically sorta Kate Spencer's uncle (well. not actually. but on paper he is because the Al Pratt-Sandra Knight-Iron Munro situation is. uh. complicated) and how confusing that whole family tree is because everyone has different surnames and half of them were adopted. (also that I do want to get around to this run).

Sure other things happen in this issue but as far as I'm concerned the most interesting aspect is all the family history shenanigans. Good issue to deepen my knowledge of it.

Deathwish #4: This is a Milestone comic. And it's drawn by J.H. Williams III! And as it's 4/4 in a mini I am extremely lost on what's going on. So I'm going to talk about J.H. Williams III here instead, who has some lovely detailed work, but has nowhere near evolved into his final form. The really interesting thing is he's starting to experiment with panel shapes but it's in the order of what for a normal comic artist I'd nod at approvingly, but for Williams is...so minor. Running the ribbon of music script around a page. The twisted stem of a rose becoming the edging of the other panels.

Really interesting to see such early work of his.

Robin #15: Dixon and Grummett time! This is immediately after the end of Prodigal and Troika, so Tim and Bruce are just re-establishing their dynamic together. In any case, this is the Arthur Brown plot where Steph's kidnapped and Arthur's blackmailed into planning crimes for a gang.

Delightful details I had forgotten: Tim manages to fly out to Blackgate this time! And speculates on why he's got the confidence! This is also the issue where Jack starts walking again, thanks to Dana. So Jack celebrates by taking Dana 'up to the lake this afternoon...for the weekend' and says he has to cancel taking Tim to the Knights game. Tim says he'll ask Dick to go with him instead. (guuuuh. Tim already being like 'sure Dad. Go out with Dana and prioritise your new girlfriend over me. I guess I'll just ask ~*~Dick Grayson~*~ to hang out with me since you won't'). Jack decides this is a sign of Tim's maturity (and not a comment on his lack of parenting skills).

Showcase '95 #3: featured in this issue are stories for Eradicator, The Question, and Claw. Amazingly for a Showcase issue, these all are one-shots.

I had to look up the context on the Eradicator story, but it's very tragic in that he's been merged with a scientist, Dr Connor, for reasons, but the public thinks he's KILLED Dr Connor and almost kills Dr Connor's two kids in this story but obviously can't and cries to himself afterwards that his kids hate him.

The Claw story has Claw and Meridian hanging out in a random bar in Alice Springs and given it's the Alice all I can think is that they're there to talk to American spies because of Pine Gap. Oh, the actual story? Some angst about Claw talking to his mother in Hong Kong, despite their family being separated.

And The Question? Well this one I actually have context on! Vic goes back to the orphanage where he grew up and runs into a bully he hated and one of the nuns from back then. Everyone had a bad time in the past and in the present.

The Batman Adventures #30: This is a lot of criminals telling origin stories of how they became criminals in the DCAU. I recognise none of them. I assume it makes more sense in context. Kelley Puckett wrote it, though!

The Saga of the Swamp Thing #152: my first thought was excitement over a Swamp Thing issue, but it's written by Mark Millar. Phillip Hester's on pencils however - I really scored a quality set of artists among this set.

In terms of the story - Swamp Thing is universe hopping and ended up in what I'd describe as your standard supernatural fantasy worldstate, with a detective noir overlay. He helps talk down a 'devolving' monster.

The Sandman #67: This is very late in The Kindly Ones. The Corinthian is taking Daniel to the castle in the Dreaming. Morpheus returns to his abandoned castle. This would be a hugely confusing issue to read without context, but fortunately I do have that. Mostly I'm enjoying Daniel the toddler and the vignettes I see by reading a single issue.

I've got an idea as I have a free evening and am feeling sort of wild:-

I'm going to generate a list of random dates between COIE and now.

I'm going to pull the list of DC comics released in that week.

And I'm going to report back on the comics after I read them.

[sicklewxlf]

Update

||Well its 1 year anniversary of The Last Wish’s first trailer! But why am I slow with replying to you guys?

Being lazy for one with a side of taking care of new born kittens but all things considered, the reason why I'm slow here is I'm still overwhelmed by how many things get sent in with Lobos here. I NEVER had a muse in my time of tumblr rping have so many asks and threads. Its so daunting that I don’t want my laziness to get in the way of the awesome ask and threads I got going on. I want you guys to have the best possible quality when it comes to him.

So going forward, I have to go on queue system mode just to keep up with the many things owed. And going forward just to make sure I’m not stressed with threads, My replies in new threads will focus on the interaction side of things cause I greatly care for that.

Anyway that’s pretty much it, Here’s a picture of my kittens for making it this far!

Anyway, i’ll see you guys!

[changeling-ethereal]

I’d like to request PIB Death’s reaction to his GN!s/o coming up to him one day and booping his nose. I’ve been thinking about this a lot haha-

Hello there! ^^

Thank you for your request, it's a very cute idea! Though truth be told, I struggled with this one so much - I couldn't figure out how Death would react! Not to mention I hated whatever I wrote-

Also, so sorry for how long it took me to write this, like I've said, I been struggling with this one BUT also been struggling mentally, so yeah. (⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

I also just read a good fic with Death, then read this one I wrote and realized I'm not good at portraying Death...yeah imma end myself now (⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠)(⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠).

Anyways, I couldn't really decide if I wanted to do imagines or a fic, but ended up going with a short fic... or more like... a drabble? (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

I kind of experimented with my style, felt like adding it a different feel. Hope y'all like this one nonetheless! ^^"

___________________________________________

{Death, his s/o, and nose boops}

Settings: I don't think I specified it throughout the story. Though a bit more of a romantic vibe, I think?

Genre: Pure fluff! :3

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Don't think there's any! Maybe just brief talks of life, mortality and death, but that's to be expected with Muerte ^^,

Sidenote: Reader is written as gender neutral, but if they might have a more female feel then it's purely unintentional and I apologize!

Sidenote: I've never written full fluff fic (or more like drabble) before , so I hope I did well ^^"

-

That should be all, muffins! Feel free to read now ^^.

Hope you'll enjoy <3.

___________________________________________

Death was old as time itself.

A sad but an important part of life, he's been here since the very start.

And so, he's seen everything.

He's been there, done that, seen that, heard that,...

Yeah, he's seen everything, and it was hard to surprise Death.

Or at least, that's what he liked to claim, completely unaware of what tricks up your sleeve you, a mere mortal, still had.

And only now, when the two of you were peacefully sitting on the couch in the living room, did he face the truth that he, in fact, has not seen all after all.

You were up to something for sure, otherwise there'd be no reason for that rascally smile on your face as you slowly extended your hand towards Death, your pointer finger outstretched and aiming for Death's nose or so it seemed.

Death said nothing at that behaviour, after all, now that he was with you, he knew firsthand that mortals- humans especially - were weird creatures.

And so, he let you do your thing, having too much adoration for you to stop you.

Not to mention, a curious creature was Death, and intrigued by your actions, he just watched with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as your finger slowly neared his nose.

Then your finger was closer and closer and-

"Boop!" squeaking out in voice of high pitch, your finger tapped his nose, squishing it.

Then dead silence fell upon you.

Death was quiet, saying nothing at all.

His pointy ears had perked up though, his eyes of crimson wide as he seemed to be processing the action you'd just done.

And you had no idea what reaction to expect now.

Death was unpredictable, and figuring out his next move was something you had never succeeded in.

Nobody has, not even once.

And when the dead silence went on, filling the room like a thick fog, you couldn't help but retreat your hand and offer a nervous, meek smile.

You weren't scared of course, you knew your dear Lobo wouldn't bring you no harm, not now not ever.

But that uncertainty of what he'd do still left you wary after all.

Much to your luck, though, Death spoke at last.

"What... what was that you just did?" he questioned and a light grin stretched across his face, ruby red eyes wide and intrigued.

The expression was somewhat an unsettling one.

Death's eyes all wide, glowing, burning like wildfire, his razor sharp teeth all exposed by his twisted grin.

And combined with his massive stature and eerie aura, one could easily feel preyed upon...

But the word 'scared' did not describe how you felt at that moment.

You weren't scared, you knew better than to be distrustful of the wolf.

You trusted him fully, you didn't fear him even when he gazed at you like that.

You weren't scared.

Not when, with enough attention paid, you could notice Death's tail wagging ever so slightly.

And not when you had another giveaway of him being just intrigued by your action with no side motives - he intensely sniffed the air through his big nose with light growls rumbling in his throat.

Again, this action could seem intimidating to anyone else and could make them uneasy, but you knew that this action meant no danger - in your case that is.

In your case, you'd say it was something like when dogs panted happily when something caught their interest.

In other cases, mostly when it came to people who were reckless with their life or when it came to people who hurt others, this action had similar, but much more dangerous and terrifying meaning...

Well anyways, with that you knew you were in no real danger.

Although you still needed to be a bit cautious about what Death would do.

It could range from shrugging it off to starting a hunt with you being the prey.

"Oh... I... booped your nose...?" you answered and offered an awkward smile, unsure whether or not Death would be familiar with such term.

You didn't count on that much though.

"You... booped... my nose?" Death repeated after you, the term unfamiliar for his tongue.

And that eyebrow raise was enough for you to know your dear Lobo's never heard such word. Yet, his grin still remained the same - sly, intrigued.

Death added nothing more though, and only stared at you with his wide eyes that made you feel in the story of Little Red Riding Hood when The Big Bad Wolf stared at the little girl with wide eerie gaze, and the girl uttered those famous words: "But Grandmother, what big eyes you have!".

You wondered where your own story would lead to if you uttered those exact words to your Big Bad Wolf... Your Lobo feroz...

Nonetheless, you got the silent hint, and went ahead to elaborate what it meant to boop someone's nose.

"It's when you affectionately tap or squish someone's nose and say a 'boop'." you explained softly, smiling meekly.

Then taking a note of that light head tilt and eyebrow raise Death did at your words, you added: "It's a show of endearment,".

"It's a show of endearment," Death repeated after you as if checking he's heard correct, his voice holding a quality you couldn't really pinpoint.

Was it amusement you heard? confusion? disbelief? something else? It was hard to tell.

And then, Death fell silent once again.

It was silent again, and you weren't sure of what to do, Death being way too hard to figure out at the very moment - just like most times...

Hesitantly, you prepared to say something - anything - to break the awkward silence.

But then a chuckle came.

A chuckle came, and Death muttered: "Oh my," before covering his eyes with his paw and a grin grew on his face as his shoulders bounced ever so slightly.

Was he...?

And then it came!

Death broke into a fit of laughter.

Death was laughing!

He was wholeheartedly laughing like never before, the deep sound being sharp to the ears yet warm to the heart.

"Squishing nose and making a silly, high pitched sound to show affection!" Death exclaimed, shaking his head with amusement all written over the wolf's face as he laughed.

He seemed to be having the time of his life, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling all warm inside at the sight.

It was honestly sweet, refreshing to see Death like that, and so you didn't even risk saying something, letting your Lobo have his fun.

"My," Death breathed, his laughter eventually dying down to just an occasional chuckle, "you mortals never fail to amuse me,"

"you never really disappoint..." Death mused still shaking his head some with an amused grin on his face.

"Squishing nose and making a silly, high pitched sound to show affection..." he repeated his earlier exclamation, a light chuckle escaping him again before his half-lidded eyes found yours and he went all silent.

"Yeah, it is quite strange, isn't it?" You said lowly once your eyes locked with Death's, a meek smile playing on your face as a light chuckle left your lips as well.

It really was unusual yet amusing, you had to admit that.

Though still feeling a bit awkward in the moment, your instincts told you to ramble, which you attempted to do: "Honestly, I don't even-".

But then.

"Boop," Death muttered and his clawed finger tapped the tip of your nose!

Oh no way! Did he just-??

"Boop..." Death repeated, and chuckled at how silly the sound sounded before he did the action again.

He booped your nose and let out that silly 'boop' sound, making you peek at his finger cross-eyed and scrunch your nose as he smiled.

And right after he did all that, his ears and whole body perked up and his tail wagged all happily!

And as Death's soft smile twisted into a wide, satisfied grin and Death yet again intensely breathed through his nose, growls rumbling in his throat, the message was made clear:

You better prepare for a life filled with nose boops from now on.

Better watch out.

___________________________________________

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Can you make a part 2 of your death x reader??? I loved it so much and I would love to read more💘💘

I enjoyed writing for him, so I will continue this! See this as their little 'date'! I made this one oddly sad, but hope you still like it!

Part 1 | Part 2

-

An Altercation with Death Part 2

He was late. Incredibly late.

You were not surprised though: your hopes and expectations of seeing him were dwindling. Finishing work for the rest of the afternoon was a struggle when you just had him on your mind, but also on what you had just done.

Was I being too forward? Was he just being polite?

You finished up work in the early evening, walking away from the vibrant town, up the cobbled slopes towards your secluded home. It was quaint, yet sometimes lonely.

You sighed in the cooling air, hugging yourself with your cardigan as the only source of warmth. “Of course, I overstepped, like always.”

“Buenas noches, corderito.”

You looked up, eyes darting over to the dead, wilting tree, a shadow emerging from its rotting bark, tall and imposing, the wolf appeared with red eyes gleaming.

“Lobo,” You breathed a sigh of relief, certain your heartbeat could be heard, erratically beating. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“Apologies for startling you,” he lowered his hood, his pointed ears spoking upwards, grey smoke fur standing out in the contrast of the moonlight. “I have been quite busy.”

“I can tell.” You murmured, and the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks; the height difference! You barely came up to his hip, and he stood imposing and towering.

It had come to you to realise you had been caught staring at him, noticing the way he stalked closer and closer towards you, gauging how you would react or even at all when you were caught in a daydream once again. Dios mío, think, Y/N! Think!

You coughed awkwardly, trying to find the right words and to not feel so uneasy. “So, what do you want to do?”

There was amusement and intrigue mixed in his crimson gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re both free all evening… would you like to go and do something?”

“How about going for a meal?”

Your expression lit up, it was an indication to him that this was a great idea. “Of course! Ooh, I’ve heard of this really good tapas and patatas bravas.”

Something in his eyes lit up too; was it fascination, interest? It was uncertain. The wolf, close enough, knelt to be eye level with you, his long snout gracing your ear as he whispered lowly. “Wherever you, go, I’ll follow, chica.”

You could’ve mistaken your face had betray you: the way he whispered so huskily in your ear, the warmth of his face so close to yours, the pure power that was raw and radiating off of him. He could’ve easily pinned you down to the ground and ravaged you whole, and something about that both ignited the flight or fight mode within you.

“Okay!” You side-stepped closely away from him before he could sense your bashfulness. It was amusing for Lobo, watching you stumble away from him as he sauntered behind you.

He followed not far behind you as you led the way, back down towards town as life filled the streets in the late evening. All walks of life were situated everywhere: music filled the streets, food and smells of all flavours filled your nostrils. It gave you the best idea for everything: how would Muerte think if you got him a sweet treat?

You found the small restaurant, surprised when the waiter asked if it had been a table for one, when you looked back over behind you. “Oh no, it’s me and—” You were expecting the wolf’s looming figure to stand behind you, instead, met with the open, cooling air. “Ah, I’m waiting for someone.”

“Of course, señorita.”

The waiter directed you to a small table in the corner, forgotten and left for all to ignore, as the waiter ran off to grab two menus, you felt a warm, familiar hand press into your waist, something fuzzy and soft brush up against your side. “This is a nice table.”

“Lobo! Where did you run off to?” You scolded lightly, the two of you sitting as the waiter returned, taking your orders. It was odd: how the waiter didn’t even regsiter Muerte sitting there opposite you. Where you losing your mind? How could anyone not spot him there?

“I swear I seem strange to others.”

Muerte was sipping his drink when he met your gaze, “How so?”

“Well, that waiter looked at me like I was having a meal with an imaginary friend.” You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. “I mean, it’s not hard to notice you. I thought it would’ve been the opposite way round.”

“Well, it’s hard not to miss a corderito like you.” He said, but there was a indiference to his words. It was as if he was never bothered by being unnoticed. How could someone like him want to be ignored? You thought, observing him.

“Do you come out often?”

“Many times, actually,” he chewed at his meal. “Though never once have I been invited on a date before.” He grinned when he said that one word, and your heart nearly collasped in your chest.

“Date—where did you-”

“You said to that cabra idiota yourself, you were seeing someone, hmm?”

You buried your face in your hands, trying your best not to scream in embarassment. If the earth could swallow you whole, it would’ve done so by now, but no, you were faced with the teasing of a wolf who enjoyed it clearly.

Would you have called it date? Or was he just teasing? “I—It was never discussed, I just thought-”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to go for one?” He smirked.

“Yes! I mean no! Ah, you’re making this difficult for me.” Your fur felt hot on your face, and when you heard the light, easy-going chuckle come from in front of you, you couldn’t help but think he was just doing it to annoy you.

“Ah you’re really cute when you get flustered.” He sighed, continuing on as if he hadn’t put that compliment out there in the open. He finished his meal and you gave the rest of yours for him to finish (it was hard to when you remained flustered for the rest of your ‘date’).

The two of you paid and left with few words spoken, except your mind was whirred and spinning with all sorts of questions. The less you spoke and the minutes ticked by, the more you panicked.

“Hey, I’m sorry for making it this-“ You turned on your heel as you kept walking, clumsily your foot got caught on a broken cobble piece, stumbling forwards so quickly, you didn’t have any time to register that your body was falling too fast.

The ground was what you expected to meet, and when you braced for the hard earth, you didn’t expect to be enveloped in the warm and soft arms. A smell of cedar and pine surrounded you gently, arms catching you with ease.

“Falling for me, huh, corderito?”

You blinked, warmth spreading through you, heart racing in the cage of your chest. No way did you catch you. It was only until it dawned on you that your feet weren’t touching the ground, you found yourself eye to eye level with Muerte.

“Ah,” you looked away from him, trying not to look directly in his teasing gaze, his bloodshot eyes were vivid and glowing, “I wasn’t expecting that to happen.”

Muerte didn’t seem bothered by the clumsiness that came from you, rather there was amusement in the way he held you. “Careful now, you may fall into the arms of the wrong guy.”

“Why, you worried I’ll jump into some bad guy’s arms?” You were the one to inquire teasingingly. Muerte met your gaze, and that alone had made you shudder. He didn’t need to lean that far into your face, inches from you. “Puede atraer a las personas equivocadas.”

It took everything in your body not to surge forward and kiss him: the way he was so close and inviting. The silence could’ve been broken with a pin dropping, neither of you speaking yet only staring for some time. With some relcutance, he settled you back down, and you almost realised how badly you missed the way he held you.

“Come now, let’s get you back home.”

-

The walk back up the hill was silent yet not as awkward as you thought it would be. The air was filled with the growing sounds of music, growing quieter the further you left the town. When you looked across the town, it was tiny in comparison to how it felt being surrounded down there; you felt like a giant, looking over tiny ants.

“It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” You asked Lobo after some time.

“It is, but wouldn’t you grow restless after some time up here, alone?” His voice dragged the last word out. It was like a hush or murmur of the wind, starlting and haunting, yet his presence alone made you feel surprisingly safe.

“I’ve been up here for quite some time. And though, I’m jealous of my friends who live directly there, I don’t think I could ever be down there, all the time.” You laughed to yourself, hugging your smaller body.

Lobo hummed in thought, moving ahead as if he knew the way back to yours. “It is something I would rather agree on.”

Neither of you said anything again as he led, but you had time to think about what he said. Was he lonely? How could he be—it wasn’t as if you knew what his personal life was before the two of you met, but it was a curisity you held the more you were with him.

“Do you ever get lonely?”

He paused in movement, and you observed the way his long ear twitched, unaffected by the chill of the night. “Sometimes,” he drawled thoughtfully. “I think I’ve grown used to being ignored, only for a time.”

“How so?”

“I wander these lands, watching. It is rather what I would say my job is in this world, and I’ve been doing it for some time. I watch, observe those, watch them live their lives; get married, have kin, have their highs and lows in life, and when it begins to draw to an end, I come in, give them a hand and we move on.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “Though, I do get a thrill in those who don’t spend their life well. It’s quite fun to get a change once in a while.”

“Lobo,” you spoke carefully. “When you said your name was Muerte, you weren’t joking-“

“I am Death, yes.” He spoke coolly, the flickering of his cape came up for a moment, and something silver glinted on the side of his thigh, disappearing before you could even register what it was. “I come and go when it’s time for being to move on, and I’ll do the same with you.”

You felt rigid in your spot, looking up at him in both horror and twisted curiousity. “Do you know when my time will come? It’s… not tonight, is it?”

“No,” his was a odd sense of reassurance, “You will live a good, long life, I know that.” He knelt down to you, approaching you as if you were an injured animal. “I have enjoyed this one night of a break, and I enjoyed it with you.” He was kind and careful to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, standing back to his full height once more. “We will meet again, sometime, Y/N.”

“Yes.” You didn’t understand his words at first, too hopeful, too joyful to see him, and when you blinked he was gone once more.

No, it wasn’t a hopeful expectation you would see him soon, it was a see you again when your time comes.

[lulu-nightbon]

wAUGH YOU HAVE GOT ME

uhhhhhhhhhh lulu remember anything about your life challenge go

1. getting to infodump about my ocs. a lot of the time it just feels like im talking into the void or walking on eggshells or just don't know what to say so when i actually get to talk i get really excited

2. writing! this fic is giving me hell but i like it :3 even if i don't get feedback (which is like the one thing motivating me) i am enjoying beating the shit out of me and my friends oc's (emotionally) with a metal pipe <3

3. dragging my friends into my fandoms. c'mere bestie im totally normal about lobo corp i swear :)

4. seeing my friends get excited about stuff, i like knowing they're happy

5. just talking with my friends in general. i like hanging out with them and spending time with them whether that be me narrating the notes of a textpost that has me screeching, watching spy x family with them, or just existing in the same room reassuringly like two socially anxious cats

uhhhhhhhhh let's see who do i tag. @alexcaninnit @thebladedancer1158 @askglassanon @pridemoth1 @waytoobsessed @alienembers @four more people im sorry i dont have braincells rn

5 things that make me happy!!

Tumblr tag game: List 5 things that make you happy and tag 10 people to do the same.

Tagged by the wonderful @introvertia hope your holiday season is happy and peaceful ❤️🥰

1❤️ My cats, Edmund and Sir Charles

2🧡 My sister

3💚 Working on a new sewing project (currently a grey wool coat)

4💙 Watching a new piece of media I can get obsessed with (still waiting on s2 of IWTV)

5💜 My partner, who stands by me through everything

Tagging a bunch more ppl below to list 5 things that make them happy! 🥰🥰🥰 No pressure though!!

@sirsparklepants @ub-sessed @trashcangimmick @missroserose @pointeful @ramenyul @usstrashbarge @swarmofbeesssss @ezra-starkiller @mischiefmetalandmagic