#and my poor english

[ered]

Here’s my take on the whole audio books vs. reading:

Oral tradition of storytelling predates written ones by millennias, and honestly, which one you like is just a personal preference.

The actual difference is

when listening, you have no idea how to write characters’ names

when reading, you have no idea how to pronounce characters’ names

hope this helps!

[oh2bloved]

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[kamigui]

Welcome Home Haunted House AU

There was a lonely soul living in an old house… until one day, the collector, Wally moved in. Wally knew the house was haunted, but house was really friendly and nice to him, so he didn’t mind it at all. Soon they became best friends.

But… something bad happened. One of Wally’s old friend betrayed him, the traitor stabbed Wally’s belly and ran away. On the verge of his death, house took Wally’s soul and made him into a ghost, but if house want to fix Wally’s body it’ll take a lot of power. So house started hurting puppets.

Finally, Wally’s body was fully recovered, but house changed its mind. House won’t let the same thing happen again. House caught some “friends” for Wally. The friends that chosen by house… In order to maintain the power, house still needs to absorb some puppet souls.

Wally will help house and trick those poor puppets. Deep down inside Wally’s heart he knew it’s wrong, but he had to obey, or his friends will be in danger. So he needed to keep finding the one who can find their bodies and set them free.

Obey house: Wally Howdy Poppy Barnaby(fake)

Don’t want to obey, scared puppets away: Sally Eddie Barnaby

Normal: Puppies: Frank Julie

[junespriince]

Little Chickadee meet little Sparkle au

8yo Dick, picks up 3yo Wally: so this baby kid flash?

Barry: yeah, this is apparently him at three years old according to Iris.

Dick, looks at the tiny boy in his arms: and his dad hated him!? Adults are useless.

Bruce, sighed: can't wait for Constantine and zatanna to fix this... Alfred where's the leash? *Leaves*

Dick, gives Barry, Wally back: I will make sure nobody hurts him again.

Barry: aw, that's so sweet of you.

A few hours later

Bruce: I told you to watch him, how could you let him get away!?

Barry: he said he went to the bathroom, how was i supposed to know he would leave, the time I knew him he listened in Central!

Wally, fussy because people are yelling:

Bruce: where could he have gone to, all his usual hits are protected.

Barry: ... Oh my god, OH MY GOD HE'S AFTER RUDY!

Bruce: Rudy?

Barry, grabbing his things: Wally's shitty bio dad, he read Canary's file on Wally and asked me questions.

Bruce: AND YOU GAVE THEM TO HIM, FREELY!?

Barry: I'm sorry I forgot he was blood thirsty as a child, okay!

Jason, holding a now crying Wally: hush it dipshits, and he's like eight how far on foot could he have gone.

Tim: he knows about the zeta tubes.

Jason: oooo, yeah that mother fucker dead dead.

Cass: I also saw him grabbed Barry's phone and called up Iris.

Barry: SHIT MY WIFE GONNA GO TO PRISON! I GOTTA GO!

[unrelatedsideblog]

Idk, idk

I have at least 3 versions of this AU lmao

[spaceinvadeeer]

language barrier

[arson-09]

Rhysand really thinks his trauma trumps everyone elses trauma

Ofc i feel bad cause rhysand was obviously abused UtM but that doesn’t excuse the fact he 1- does shit things to other people 2- can act like since he was traumatized he is morally superior.

and i know the rhysand-ites will yap about how “he knows hes not good” or “he doesnt think that at all!” but the narrative certainly thinks so. sjm jumps through HOOPS to convince you rhysand is a great and amazing person no matter what and good god it’s annoying

[soriastrider]

found some small beings without their glasses in my onenote files

alternatively, canon-compliant version:

[daniswoso]

I hate the way I can’t hate you.

Ona Batlle x Reader.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, verbal arguments.

******

When you played for Levante, you met a girl. The most perfect girl in the world, to you, at least. Ona Batlle. She was kind, caring, considerate; her eyes were brown and reminded you of quiet fall nights. Her jaw was sharp and her mousy brown hair was always tied back in a plait.

Her personality was one of the best you had ever seen. She had the ability to care so fiercely for others while also keeping a level head, she was always soft spoken and polite but also charismatic and humorous. She was possibly the most humble person you had ever met, too.

You may have been young, but you were sure as hell in love.

And you don't think you've been able to love quite right ever since she broke your heart.

You started out at Levante together, you played football together, studied for school together. You trained together, lived together, ate together, went to the gym together. You were attached at the hip. So when her departure to Manchester United was announced, it was saddening. But you made your peace with it.

You had both decided you were going to make it work. You had too.

Ona, for a long time, was the only constant in your life. Your family and home life had never been particularly stable or good. You hadn't come from riches or fame. You had to work hard to get where you were today. And you continued to.

When you first went pro, you promised yourself you weren't going to let relationships get in the way of your career, but somehow Ona managed to break down your walls and your tough facade. Simply by being her.

She was a part of your heart. So when she suddenly ended things half way into her first season at United, a part of your heart died.

She did it over text.

Text.

To say you were heartbroken was an understatement. It felt as though a piece of you had fallen away, crumbled as you read those words. The words you had hoped to never hear. The words you never thought you would hear.

And so you needed to get away, from everything Ona. From anything that reminded you of her. And that meant leaving the only other constant in your life, Levante.

Plenty of things have changed recently, you thought, what's one more?

And it was difficult, but eventually you settled into Real Madrid. Content with only seeing her at Champions League matches, or in national friendlies where you would have to play alongside her.

You were content, but never quite happy.

You had had many failed talking stages and one night stands, often random women from bars. You always left before they even got the chance to stirr awake, leaving their bed cold and empty. Although you always felt guilty after, you continued with it. It was what worked.

You didn't fall in love, you weren't sure you could. And leaving before they could wake was the best way to get away from the situation, preventing yourself from catching even the slightest hint of feeling for them. Wether it was because you were still holding out some hope she'd come back, or because you simply didn't want a relationship; you weren't sure.

You couldn't truly love anyone again. You couldn't let yourself truly love anyone again. Ona had broken you, and wether it was for the better or the worse you didn't know. But you had a strong feeling it wasn't for the better.

A piece of you left with Ona the day she broke things off. You were confused, young and alone at the time. In a way you still were, you hadn't quite shed yourself of your previous naïvety.

But you were content at Real now.

Until Ona's transfer to Barcelona was announced.

It was something Ona had always dreamed about, going back to Barcelona. She’d tell you, “That club made me. They’re my home. And I promise you one day I’ll go back, with you,”

She'd say it with a smirk so charming and sweet you couldn't resist but to play into her fantasies. You would stay up all night talking to each other about everything you would do at Barcelona, how you would revolutionise the defending line.

Obviously that fell through. You went to Real Madrid instead, and you had always told yourself it was out of the need to leave; but you're fairly convinced you did it out of spite.

You felt your newly constructed life crumble around you the day you saw the news on instagram. You knew she was going to come back to Spain eventually, just like she had always planned. But you didn't think it would be this soon. She seemed happy at United.

Just your luck though, right?

Although the feelings you experienced when you saw the news alone at home was nothing compared to what you felt when you shook hands with her and met those beautiful brown eyes you thought were in your past again.

The same soft hands that had held you after harsh losses or great wins at Levante.

You never thought you'd hear her voice again. See her more often than you had to.

That match you kept your head down and did your job. And it paid off, Madrid won 3-2. Immediately after, you left for the locker rooms. But you heard the clacking of studs behind you and immediately knew who it was.

Ona. The love of your life Ona. The one who broke up with you without an explanation and over text Ona. The girl who you met when you were just a naïve young adult and had fallen in love with, was there. Stood before you, her big brown eyes glistening with unshed tears while yours were already streaming down your cheeks.

"Y/N." Her voice cracked. You winced and more tears fell, it took everything in you to not turn into a fit of sobs and cries right there and then.

"Batlle." You replied. Your voice was harsh and cold, albeit a little shaky and a tear fell down her cheek and her lip quivered as she sniffed. You fought back the urge to reach out and wipe her tears away.

"Y/N I need to explain myself, por favor." She pleaded. You felt like a giant dick for what you said next, but you said it anyway.

"Not a fucking chance. You broke me the day you left me, Ona. And to make matters worse? You did it over text with no fucking explanation," you paused, tears streaming faster, your voice trembling. You studied her face, searching for any sign of guilt or remorse, instead you were met with the sight of her looking to the ground.

"I need an explanation. Why, Ona? Why?" You said, your voice probably sounding needy now but you couldn't care less. Your mean facade had faded now and you shakily exhaled.

"I didn't want to hold you back," She said, her voice quiet and timid, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly as she held back her sobs.

"You didn't want to hold me back?" You repeat, she nods. Your sadness was replaced with a fiery hot rage that had been burning deep within you ever since that fateful day.

"You weren't fucking holding me back Ona! You never were! We had a system! We were fine!" You yelled, she flinched but you couldn't bring yourself to care. Too overcome with rage and anger to feel anything else.

"Y/N, please trust me when I say I didn't want to, but I knew I was holding you back, you were holding out for an offer from United, or Barca. I could tell-" you cut her off

"Did you ever fucking consider I was just happy at Levante?! I was captain for fucks sakes, Ona! I didn't want to leave that! I left because of you, I needed to get away from everything you!" You yelled, tears streaming down your face as Ona tilted her head back, wiping at her eyes.

"Y/N, I was right to do what I did. I mean, look at you! You're a star player for Madrid.." her voice broke again as she gestured to your grass stained Real kit.

"Right to do what you did?!" you screamed, she tilted her head to the side and shut her eyes, her lip quivering and her breathing shaky.

"I loved you, Ona! I still fucking do! I think I always will! Could you not have at least spoken to me first? Asked me if I needed space? Rather than breaking my heart and leaving me confused and trying to pick up the pieces for years?!" your anger had faded, the rage inside you simmering down now. Your upset and disappointment replacing the fury.

"Y/N-" she was cut off by you again.

"I hated you, you know?" you got out through gritted teeth, meeting her eyes as they widen and she stifled a choked sob, "Sometimes I think I still do. I hated the way everything reminded me of you. I hate the way I can't view fall the same as I used to anymore because it reminds me of your fucking eyes. But most of all, Ona?"

She looks at you, her brows furrowed and her lips tightly pressed together as they trembled while her shoulders shook ever so subtly as she suppressed her sobs.

"I hate the way I can't ever truly hate you."

And that was all it took, she broke down, mumbling apologies. But it was too late. You had retreated into your locker room, leaving Ona's Barcelona teammates to collect her.

You needed to heal. And now you had an explanation and closure, you finally could.

And the first step in that is letting go of the thing that hurt you the most. And for you, that just so happened to be the love of your goddamn life.

But it didn't matter. You would get through it.

***

Hi! Sorry. This was very sad, I was just in an angsty kinda mood haha. Also! English is not my first language so please feel free to correct my grammar lol. Hope you're all having a good day, night or afternoon and staying hydrated.

Yours truly,

author :)

[erabu-san]

Could you not blackwash characters? Idk why you suddenly started doing this but its incredibly annoying.

Could you educate yourself ? Idk why you suddenly decided spit your ignorant opinion but I don't care if you are annoyed.

[gabrielleyueerrrrr]

Okay, I had the coolest dream just now:

Alan started to post comics in which he and the Colour Gang play VR RPG games together

The rest is all incoherent and blurry but there are 3 scenes I HAVE to write it down:

1. So some of the RPG games allow you to customise your character's appearance right? The CG all made their human avatars, and ask Alan to tell them apart. Alan immediately recognised Red because he's the only one with skin colour so red like a devil straight from hell, meanwhile others all have natural skin colours. (I forgot what the others looked like though)

2. There's another really wholesome scene where Alan tried to wake Second up, he walked up to Second's avatar and gently tapped his shoulders and whispered to his ears "wakey wakey" and Second just rolled to his other side and groaned "No dad, five more minutes..." Second called Alan dad aaaaaaaa

3. And then Alan brought the five kids to diving(?), but Yellow was afraid of the water(yeah this doesn't make sense canonically), Alan didn't push Yellow at all, he very patiently waited beside Yellow and gave him encouragement, and finally Yellow overcame his fear and jumped into the water. Later when they finished their adventures Yellow secretly hugged Alan and said "thanks Dad" aaaaaaaaaaaa

[leafy-m]

girl help, the lackluster translation choices are driving me mad

[firawren]

[tricksterlatte]

The Phantom Thieves doing their English homework

[infectioustomfoolery]

who up holding they caulfield?