#i have the pictures with santa to post later BUT i need to know... did matt get to go with them? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

risquefanfics457 · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! If your requests are still open, would you be able to write Giorno x Shy!Fem!Reader where they’re childhood friends and Giorno gained feelings for reader over the years and wants to confess but doesn’t know how? Maybe reader feels the same way and wants to confess too?

Thanks!! :D

Did I spend 2 hours writing this because I got hyperfocused? Yes. Worth it? Yes.

Giorno and the reader are both 15 at the start and 18-19 by the end. ENJOY!

“Amica?”

You knew that voice. It had Giorno all over it. Giorno and you had become friends when he moved next to you when your were both 4. He’d changed his name to Giorno, and you respected that, only his mom and step-dad called him Haruno, as he was known in Japan.

“Gio Gio?” You stepped out on the porch of the cafe you worked at, “What is-?” You stopped. Standing in front of you was Haruno Shiobana or Giorno Giovanna as he liked to be called but… blonde.

“Santa merda! Gio Gio, you’re blonde!”

“I know!” He threw his hands in front of him, “I woke up this way!”

You looked at him, gathering all the details you could. He was still the same boy. Same jade eyes, “What happened?”

“I woke up this way!” He waved his arms about, “Can we talk about this?” He pointed to his newly golden locks. It practically glowed in the sun, “Uh, I have a 15 minute break soon.” You stuttered.

“Okay, I’ll be here.” He wrung his hands and leaned awkwardly against the lamp post.

“Or you could come inside.” “I don’t have any cash on me.”

You chuckled, “I can still get you a water, on the house.”

He nodded, “Alright.”

You waved him in, “It’s not like anybody will recognise you anyway.”

“You did.” He said quietly

You blushed silently, “Be with you in a few.”

“So you woke up, and now you’re just blonde?”

“Yeah! Like my dad.” He whispers

“Whoa, you never talk about your dad.” You are even mor eintrigued now. Giorno had a peculiar picture in his wallet that he said was his biological father. The man in the picture was build strong and almost scarily so. But the defining trait Giorno knew was from that man was the star shaped birthmark on his upper shoulder.

“I mean, I didn’t think this is what puberty did.” You teased, “What colour do you think my hair will turn?”

“Pink?” He laughed, “No, that a ridiculous colour.”

“Yeah, nobody in their right mind would have pink hair.” You laughed together.

“What would you even do if you met a dude with pink hair?”

“How should I know?” He laughed, “I’ve never seen one, and I doubt I ever will.”

“Well, you could grow it out.” You said

“I could, we could style it like those old magazines we used to read as kids.”

“I can see you in a braid.” You grin

“We’ll see.”

“Ehi! Y/N, back to work, I see you going 2 minutes over your break!”

“Gotta go.” You stand up, but Giorno stood as well, “Me as well, goodbye, Y/N.” He customarily kissed you on both cheeks, something you’d taught him a long time ago. Watching him leave, you went back to taking orders as you wished that you’d had the nerve to teach him a new kind of kiss.

A few weeks later, he stopped in again, “Amiga!”

“Hey, got money for an actual coffee this time?” You called down the stairs

“I do, but that’s not the point.” He climbed the cafe stairs to meet you, “I’ve figured it out.”

Him suddenly so close with that piercing gaze had you pull away, flushed pink. “What?”

“I figured it out. The drug trade, everything.”

You looked quizzically at him, “You mean the mafia?”

He nodded, “I’m going to join them.”

You blinked. Wow, you’d lost it. Who knew serving 17 macchiatos in an hour would finally push your brain past its breaking pointt?

“Amiga?”

“Sorry, you lost me. What’s the plan?” You wiped down a table

“I’m going to become a gangstar.”

You nodded, “See, I keep hearing you saying you want to join the mafia.” You shake your head.

“I did say that.” He tries to meet your eyes, “All the drug problems, the law being run by criminals, it can be solved, I can solve it.”

You couldn’t believe what you heard, “You’re 15.”

“I know. I need all the time I can get, I have to start early.”

You put the cloth and spray down, “Tell me you’re kidding me.” You kept your voice low, you didn’t like catching attention of others.

“No, I’m finally going to do something about all this.” He took your hands in his and you noticed him stutter, “W-we grew up surrounded by people influenced by drugs, isn’t it time to do something about it?”

His change in demeanor prompted you to break out into a red blush. He wasn’t usually so… forward. It was different. You automatically sank back into your shell as red as a crab as other people stared. “Giorno, this is insane. You can’t join the mafia, it’s an early death sentence.”

“I get that, but things are different now.”

“But why you?��

“Because kids like you and I deserved to have good childhoods.”

That struck a nerve, “Giorno, I want to talk about this more, but I need to stay focused on my job right now, I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

He took a deep breath and stepped away, ”Okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright, I’m just worried about you. I care, okay?”

“I know.” He smiles earnestly, “I love that about you.”

Before you had a chance to reply or even register what he said, he was gone.

You called him that afternoon. Nothing. You called him again later that night. Nothing. You called him the next morning. Same results. Life went on, agonizingly slow. A week went by.

You should have just told him when you had the chance.

A month. 2 months. 4… 8… a year. You gave up after 3 years…

“Andrea, I need you to calm down. The report doesn’t have to be done until noon tomorrow. You have a full day and 3 hours to draft and finish it.” You spoke on the phone to a colleague. “Yes, I’ll be in on tomorrow… no, you don’t need me to proofread it, you’re an adult, you can scan your own emails for typos.”

A knock came from the front door. “Andrea, take a breather and write when you’re ready.” You hang up. Why your co-workers who were 5 years your senior needed you to spellcheck was beyond you. The knock came again, whoever it was, they were impatient. You checked the glass and caught a glimpse of blonde, and your heart skipped a beat. You calmed yourself and opened the door. It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. A man in a green suit was standing in the doorway, “Buongiorno signora.”

That name. He had to say buongiorno. Of course giorno was a regular word, but it followed you everywhere, and you felt your heart flop sadly every single time you heard it.

“What can I do for you?” You cross your arms.

“My name is Pannacota Fugo, my boss wishes to speak to you privately.”

You nod, “Okay, I’m guessing you’re from a law firm or something?”

“No, signora. I am from Passione.”

Despite the decrease in crime regarding the mafia, the word stung, it was the mafia group Giorno mentioned. God, if they were looking for Giorno… but they couldn’t even ask you, you had no idea where he went either.

“What about it?”

“You may know him.”

“I don’t know anybody from the mafia, I make it my business to stay clear of their business.” You go to close the door.

“I’d reconsider. The boss says he knows you personally. I’m here to take you to see him.”

You steeled your nerves, “I said no.”

It was a skill you were working on, you’d become better at not being so shy.

“Right. Well, Giorno sends his regards then.” Fugo says and goes to leave

“Giorno?” Your heart almost jumps out of your chest, “Giorno Giovanna?”

Fugo nodded.

“I’ll get my things.”

You pulled up the a house. It was lavish, even on the outside.

“He’s inside.” Fugo holds the car door open for you.

In just some clothes you’d thrown on, you climbed the steps to the house. You stopped at the door. Fugo followed you and nodded to some guards who opened the door.

“Where is he?” You asked the blonde man.

“On the left.”

You rounded a corner and on a chair in a large room was a man.

“Amiga?”

Your face flushed at the sound of his voice.

“Please, leave us.” The blonde man stood. He was just as handsome as he was before, but now, toned and his blonde hair was long and braided down his back. He wore all black. You stared dumbfounded at him.

“It was hard to find you, you changed jobs.” He chuckled. That laugh made a old shiver run down your back, one you’d thought you’d lost.

You stepped back and tripped over a chair behind you. Without missing a beat, he caught you. But that didn’t make sense, he was on the other side of the room. But something caught you. You caught your balance and eased yourself up, still in shock, “You’re… here.”

He nodded with a hint of pink on his cheeks, “Yeah, I’ve been here for a few years now.”

“You… you never came back.” Your face heated up.

“I’ve been getting a handle on crime before I brought you to me. I didn’t… I didn’t want you to be a target.”

“But you could have called.”

“I’m always being watched, Amiga. Nothing was going to be a secret these past years.”

“You’re still calling me amiga.” You said.

“Well, I thought maybe we were still friends.” He sighed hopefully

“I, I don’t even know what to think. I… I hated you. I hated that you said nothing and left. But I missed you, and I still do…” You held your head in your hands, trying to name all these emotions running through you.

“I loved you.” You finished.

He looked wistfully at you, “Me too.”

“Well, w-what now?”

“Well, it’s up to you. We can start over, or we can just, let this go. I’ll let you go back to how you’ve been.”

There was a long pause,

“I… I want to be near you, but this can’t have just… not happened. I think-”

“So we should start over?” He nodded

“Not from the beginning.” You got closer and touched his face, “I still know you, at least I think I do. I might not, but I want to.”

He leaned into your touch.

“I still know this face.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek. You chuckled, “To be honest, I dreamed of this face.”

“Really?” He chuckled pleasently, a sound that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter

“I face I wished I’d kissed.”

“You’ve kissed my face plenty of times. You’re the one who taught me to do it.” He smirked. A vine snuck around your wrist and a flower appeared in your palm.

“Then the face I wished I kissed in more than one way.” You leaned in. You pressed your lips to his left cheek, and then the right, and as the sun made the rose coloured curtains behind you project a pattern of pink on his face, you sealed the confession with a gentle kiss on his soft lips. His hand curled around your face and tucked your hair behind your ear, “I wish you showed me this was to kiss earlier too, Amiga.” He smiled.

“Yeah, if this is how it’s going to be from now on, I’m going to need to be something more than amiga.”

His response was quick and sauve, “Then this is the greeting kiss you should expect from now on, cara mia.”

#giorno giovanna x oc #giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #part 5 x reader #jojo giorno

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sailorsenshishitposter · 4 months ago

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Vegeta and the Pride Parade 🏳️‍🌈

I forgot I wrote this so I thought I'd upload it here (even if it would probably be better to be post it in June). This was based off that one picture by 27-orange-lily

If you're wondering why Bojack is here instead of King Cold, it's because I wrote this before I knew HFIL was a thing. Everyone is an adult here. I don't ship anyone in particular, I just thought it was funny.

Vegeta had just woken up from the most pleasant dream. He hard been curb stomping Frieza's face when all of a sudden he realized that he was still in his bed at Capsule Corp.

"Damn it, I almost had him..."

He was about to go back to sleep until he realized his new problem.

"It seems I've enjoyed my dream a bit too much..."

Oh well. He might as well take care of it now. He turned next to his wife and whispered in her ear. "Woman, it is time to look after Vegeta Jr. the fifth."

It was times like these that he thanked Kami that Bulma had enough common sense not to pass on the family name to Trunks. 'That's odd.' Vegeta thought to himself. 'She must still be asleep. It's best I wake her up then.' He started fondling her chest but stopped as something dawned on him. 'Burma's chest feels much harder for some strange reason. And smaller too? I couldn't have depleted her that quickly could I? That damn son of mine, always taking away what belongs to his father! This is why I insisted that Bra be bottle fed! Now the milk well has all dried up!'

It was five seconds later that he realized that Trunks had not been breastfed in well over a decade. Vegeta's eyes immediately snapped open. "WHO THE HELL IS IN MY BED!?"

He could not believe what he was seeing. This had to be some sort of horrible nightmare from which he had yet to wake from.

"KAKAROT?! WHAT IN THE BLAZES DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?"

"Oh hey, it's me Goku. Sorry Vegeta, I instantly transmissioned here but I got tired of waiting for you to wake up so I decided to take a nap."

"WHY CAN'T YOU USE THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!?"

Goku began to scratch his head. "Gee, I didn't think it would be that big of a deal!"

Vegeta got up and started searching for some spare clothes because no way is he going to walk around half naked near his queer platonic rival. It didn't matter that he was in the comfort of his own home, he would sooner die than lose his pride. Vegeta then remembered that Bulma had recently thrown all of his training gear and armour into the wash. Something about it smelling like road kill? It was then that he opened the closet and found the only available article of clothing.

"Damn that woman!"

"I think pink really suits you Vegeta!"

The saiyan prince took in a deep breath. 'Breathe. You can kill him later and be able to savour it..."

"Is there something so important that you needed to head straight into my room for, or did you just come here to annoy me!?"

"Actually I came over because there's a festival going on and I wanted to know if you would join me."

"Really? That's it? I don't understand why you can't just take your own family!"

"Well I was going to but then Goten said he was going with Trunks and Gohan's got his own kid now. And you know how Chi-Chi doesn't like to be seen with me in public. Something about starting fights or something?"

"Trunks never told me about any of this. And why is that boy so insistent on hanging around with that low level spawn of yours!"

"I just thought you'd wanna come try all the new foods they have out!"

"...If you'll leave me alone after this then fine."

____

"Are you sure this is a festival Kakarot? There's too many balloons and it seems more like a parade."

"Maybe it's Christmas in July?"

"It"s June you clown! Also I thought you were a Buddhist?"

"I am but Santa doesn't have to know that!"

"How does your wife tolerate you?"

"She has this special juice she drinks when her stress levels get too high."

"And do you know the name of this beverage?"

"No but I know it's supposed to make you feel funny. I tried it once and it wasn't strong enough for me to feel a difference though. But Chi-Chi got all giggly for some reason?"

'Figures. To be fair, I would spend my time becoming an alcoholic around Kakarot if I could even get inebriated...' Vegeta was starting to sympathise with Goku's spouse.

"Oh yeah! She also has these weird candies that she takes sometimes!"

"What do you mean?"

"Well they must be special because they have this funny name. She probably had to import them from another part of the globe!"

"... You wouldn't happen to recall the name of this "candy" would you?"

"It was really funny sounding. Valium I think?"

'This explains so much...'

They both failed to notice Piccolo who was standing above them on a near by building while eavesdropping telepathically. He had been hoping that one of the two Saiyans would see how cool he looked (he didn't) while atop the highest point as he crossed his arms and posed dramatically.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm going to have to agree with Vegeta on this one..."

____

"Why is everyone staring at us Vegeta?"

"You idiot! They're impressed by how superior I am. Clearly they must be holding this festival in my honour!

Vegeta made his way through the crowd and climbed onto the stage. He then took the microphone from the man who was speaking seconds prior.

"Greetings, weaklings and peasants! Your supreme ruler, the one and only prince of the Saiyans has arrived!"

Murmurs began to rise in the crowd. Mostly consisting of "is this a joke?, do you think I can get the name of his personal trainer?", and most importantly "aren't we ruled by a blue dog?"

____

"What's wrong Goten?"

The younger boy was now coughing up his orange soda and sputtering. He eventually regained his breath and then broke into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"You feeling okay? You're acting stranger than usual."

"L-look ov-ver th-here...!"

Goten then pointed towards the large stage.

"YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!"

Trunks then flew off to hopefully stop his father from making less of an ass of himself than he already had.

____

A father and his son sat in their room of varying canonity. It was in a strange apartment complex that also housed a dozen or so various creatures. Luckily their landlord (who also happened to be a pirate) was currently on another planet so it was now time to watch some good old fashioned TV.

"This is the first time in I don't know how long that I haven't had to hear "ARRRGH!" and there's nothing of interest on this damned television set!"

Paragus then used his sons tiara to illegally steal their neighbours cable and began to flip through the channels with his hand held device.

"-Wait! What is this!?"

The screen now displayed a broadcast showing Satan City's local pride parade.

"Why I don't believe it! It is none other than that pest, prince Vegeta! Come Broly, it is time for us to exact our revenge! ... Broly?"

His son then began to have a vision.

Who's that wonderful girl? Could she be any cuter? Who's that wonderful girl? Oh, look, here comes a suitor! He's so handsome! She's gorgeo-

Broly was no longer dancing with the lavender haired princess he saw on the screen due to his father zapping him.

"Ow."

"It is time to get the pods ready! We shall quickly arrive to Earth!"

Broly ignored his father and began to make his own plans on how to court his princess. Wait, she was clearly male. Femboy then? Perhaps a twunk? Oh well, it didn't matter to him in the end.

____

"DAD, WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?"

Security was currently trying to move Vegeta off the stage but it was like trying to push a building.

"Shut up boy! I can't believe you tried to hide this from me!"

"WAIT, I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU EVENTUALLY, I JUST WASN'T READY!"

"Oh? And you planned to tell me after this event is over?"

"What difference would it make!?"

"Well for starters, I wouldn't be able to enjoy this festival these weaklings are putting on for me!"

"Excuse me!? Just what do you think this is all about?"

"A celebration of Saiyan pride, that's what!"

"I'm not even going to try to comprehend how your logic arrived to that conclusion... And here you go on about how stupid Goku is..."

"Kakarot? He's the one who was kind enough to bring me to this festival!"

"... That explains so much..."

"Are you telling me that this festival is for something else?"

"Yes dad! It's a gay pride parade!"

"The hell is that-"

Suddenly two space pods crashed into the ground.

"Well, if it isn't prince Vegeta!"

"Who are you again?"

____

"Oh no, it's that asparagus guy! I should really go help Vegeta out but Trunks is there and I'm starving!"

"Sir, this is your eighteenth bowl..."

"Can I get that to go please?"

"I don't get paid enough for this job!"

____

"You guys okay?"

"Yeah Goten. Let's just leave and hope this whole thing blows over!"

The two were about to make a get away before they felt the ground shake.

"Do you feel that?"

"Trunks, I hear that. And why does it sound like someone is screaming princess over and ove-"

"Hello princess..."

"What!?"

"He thinks you're a girl!?"

"Why do I hear laughter that is not coming from the one that smells like strawberries!?"

Broly then looked to his left to see Goten dying of laughter.

"What the? Kakarot? KAKAROT!!!"

"Hey, let's get away while he's scream- Wait! Trunks?"

The older boy had already hot wired a car that was nearby and had started driving off. For once he was just glad that being the child of an engineer/scientist payed off for once.

____

"And that was my whole story on why I'm here to kill you!"

"You know it seems more like you're mad at my father. If it's any consolation, he gave me up for adoption to space Hitler to be enslaved."

"PRINCESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!"

"What the hell was that?"

"That would ... be my son..."

"And he's screaming like a toddler because?"

"He may have just saw Kakarot..."

"Why would he think that Kakarot is royalty!?"

"Well he may or may not be trying to assert his dominance for the purple haired boy..."

Vegeta zoomed up to Paragus and was now strangling him by the throat.

"You have five seconds to explain yourself..."

____

Goten was now flying near Trunks.

"Hey! You gotta let me in! He's going to kill me!"

"No way! What do you think this is, Mario kart!?"

Goten just managed to narrowly avoid a blast from Broly (not unlike that of a red shell).

"And just what do you think Bowser is going to do once he's through with me!?"

Trunks then quickly opened the door.

"Thanks! You know, since you just saved my life, does that make me Peach and you Mario?"

"If you don't start firing ki blasts like fire flowers than I'm kicking you out!"

____

"Hey Vegeta, hey mister asparagus!"

"We don't have time to chat Kakarot!"

"Is broccoli on another rampage?"

"You know what, I don't have time for this! Paragus, give me the damn remote!"

The two men then began to fist fight for it.

____

Broly was just about to grab onto the car when he suddenly stopped.

"I think we did it!"

Both boys then began to hear screaming reminiscent of Tom and Jerry cartoons.

"That can't be good. Also is it getting brighter or is it just me?"

"No you're right. It kind of looks like that time we stuck a bunch of glow sticks in the microwave and...-"

"FLOOR IT TRUNKS!"

____

"You broke it! Now how am I supposed to watch wheel of death!?"

"Nevermind that! What are we going to do about Broly!?"

"Vegeta, I think it's them!"

There was now a car speeding down towards them at a rate of 150 km/h. Two separate screams could be heard going "DAAAAAAAAD!!!!"

Vegeta then grabbed the to go bag from Goku.

"I'm borrowing this!"

He waited until Trunks and Goten had drove past and then held out the bowl so it would hit Broly straight in the face.

"WHY IS THERE PISS IN BROLY'S EYES!?"

"That's odd. I ordered pea soup?"

The legendary Super Saiyan then hit a wall and was now temporarily stunned .

"Kakarot, I need you to bring those "candies" your wife has."

"Sure but I don't see how food will help us Vegeta!"

Goku then put two fingers up and used instant transmission.

"I sometimes wonder what he would be like if he hadn't hit his head as a child-"

"Okay, I'm back! Here you go!"

Vegeta took the bottle and dashed over to Broly.

"Hey look, it's Kakarot!"

As Broly opened his mouth to scream, the smaller Saiyan shoved the bottle of Valium down his throat.

"WHY DOES BROLY FEel so funn-"

Broly then fell backwards. There was now 400 pounds of pure muscle lying on the ground. The impact caused a 7.8 magnitude earthquake that would be so loud that it woke a certain cat out from it's slumber.

"Is he dead?"

"No, but our cable is. I suppose I shall need to make another device. Perhaps a necklace that acts as a dog collar and a router for Wi-Fi."

____

After it was all over, Mr Satan took credit for saving the day yet again.

"I've been meaning to ask you Kakarot but what are all those scraps of paper you're holding on to?"

"Oh these? A bunch of guys started handing them out to me. I think they must be for a recipe or something because I forgot that I can't read."

"Let me see this!"

In Vegeta's hands laid half the population of Sin City's phone numbers. Vegeta couldn't believe it. Just about every man wanted that idiot but not him. His pride felt wounded but then his mind drifted to Bulma's ample chest.

"Screw this! I'm off to plow my wife!"

Vegeta then got home and went to bed where his wife would usually be waiting for him.

"What is this!?"

It was a hand written note from Bulma.

"Hey honey, I left you some hot dogs to thaw out under the sink. I'd get someone to cook you dinner but I'm too busy locating the dragon balls so I can wish for a breast reduction."

Vegeta then stood outside in the rain so no one could see his tears.

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adamwatchesmovies · 7 months ago

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Dear Santa (2024)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Dear Santa is a film that doesn��t know where to stand. Luckily, Jack Black’s performance and the original premise are enough to bridge the gap. You categorize the picture as an enjoyable but imperfect PG-13 Holiday comedy. Then, we get to the gigantic pile of coal of a conclusion. It’s such a bad call you have to dismiss the entire film because of it.

Dyslexic 6th-grader Liam Turner (Robert Timothy Smith) mistakenly sends his holiday wishlist to Satan instead of Santa Claus. When “Santa Claus” (Jack Black) appears in his room and offers to grant Liam three wishes for an undisclosed price, he’s initially skeptical – this jolly red fellow doesn’t look like he does on the greeting cards – but accepts. His first wish is for his crush at school, Emma (Kai Cech), to give him a chance.

If I hadn’t told you the film’s MPAA rating, what would you have guessed was the target audience for this movie? Probably the same crowd that saw Sausage Party or Good Boys? Surely not children with the whole “Satan is trying to trick this pre-teen into giving him his soul" thing. The jokes write themselves. Satan needs to grant Liam’s wishes to keep making more. Once he grants that third one, the boy's going straight to Hell. Can Satan fulfill the boy's deepest desires without giving away his true identity? Keep in mind, that those wishes might be harder to fulfill than you think because the kid is… kind of dumb. Infernal powers can only do so much, you know? Before you get upset, I’m not calling Liam dumb because he’s dyslexic. I’m saying he’s dumb because he a) still believes in Santa Claus despite being in the sixth grade and b) Confuses Satan for Santa Claus. This is a comedy so you’re willing to suspend your disbelief. In fact, Liam not realizing something that obvious is the joke. Even so, the part feels like it was meant for someone younger than twelve. The problem is, our protagonist can’t be too young because if he was any littler, his crush on Emma would be weird. It’s still weird now. The screenplay by Ricky Blitt and Peter Farrelly, with Jack Black (who I assume wrote most of his own dialogue because the other two are credited with the story, along with Dan Ewen) does give another reason for why this seemingly dopey kid is so easily tricked by the fallen angel but we’ll get to that a little later and even with that extra reason, he’s still too old to be duped this easily.

The PG-13 rating is not due to violence, gore or frightening imagery. It's due to language as Satan liberally says shit, ass, damn, crap, hell, etc. That wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. If this movie had tweaked it humour and premise to appeal to younger children, you can see how it would’ve been successful. In fact, it is often successful, thanks to Jack Black. He’s clearly having a great time with this role, he has all the best lines and the funniest scenes. He even plays a pretty good “Santa”. The reason you keep watching despite everything is because of him, and to a certain extent, Robert Timothy Smith. He and Black play off each other well.

Despite the film’s confused identity, I might’ve given it a mild recommendation if it weren’t for the ending. When we learn that Liam’s parents (Brianne Howey as Molly and Hayes MacArthur as Bill) are having marital problems, you think it’s just so they can be kept busy their son runs around with the Prince of Darkness. When you learn the marriage is strained because Liam’s younger brother recently passed away, you think “That’s unusually harsh for a goofy movie like this” but you file it away as an odd decision on top of the choice to waste Keegan-Michael Key as Liam’s psychiatrist and below the scene where Post Malone is magicked into becoming Liam’s best friend. Actually, it’s the crack that will cause the dam to burst. Eventually, Liam proves himself a good boy. His unselfish wishes melt Satan’s heart. As a reward, The Devil resurrects poor, dead Spencer and alters everyone’s memories (save for Liam’s) accordingly. First of all, this contradicts an earlier scene where Satan explicitly says he cannot change history. Second of all, what is this movie trying to say? At best, it’s “If you’re good enough, ANYTHING you want will come true”. At worst, it’s "Send a letter to a demonic entity and you’ll be able to snap the laws of the universe in half.” It’s genuinely upsetting; a complete, jaw-dropping miscalculation.

The "I can’t believe you actually went there” conclusion should make Dear Santa worth a watch but it doesn’t. The film constantly hints at the success it could’ve been but even if it was tonally consistent, the finale leaves you angry and confused. Not in a “What happened?” kind of way; in a “What were they thinking?” kind of way. Again, I feel like I’m making it sound like this is so bad you’ve got to see it for yourself, but it’s merely a letdown. (December 6, 2024)

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thewisesaltine · 7 months ago

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Let's Talk For Too Long About The M&M's Santa Commercial

Right, so I'm really busy this week as the lack of a review may have implied. But I'm nothing if not persistent, and I need to get my review quota in for the week, so I'm just gonna review the M&M's Christmas Commercial from 1996.

You ever find yourself watching an M&M's commercial and remember the yellow one has an Oscar? Sometimes consumerism just makes the funniest things I swear.

Anyways, everyone knows this is a good commercial. The fact that it's been running every year for nearly 30 years now should prove that. But I don't hear many people talking about how they've aired slightly different versions over the years.

The only big difference is in the ending text that appears when Red and Santa are lying comatose and likely dead on the dirty floor. The original 1996 ad just has a picture of the red and green M&M's bags that Yellow was talking about. The idea was clearly that this commercial was specifically advertising the promotional holiday bags here.

Now if you're rerunning a commercial over the years, especially in the early 2000s you're gonna run into issues with video files looking like crunchy garbage on a lot of people's TVs. A commercial shot in 4:3 on video is gonna look kinda bad on Grandma's newfangled widescreen television that we bought her so she would stop calling us so darn much. So, it only makes sense that you may wanna make a remaster every few years to ensure Grandma doesn't start panicking when the pixels in Santa's beard get too big. And M&M's Mars did just that. First in 2004 they released a new version that added a salesman's voice over during the fainting, but as we've already established the commercial is perfect as is, and a new voice over is too much change for Grandma in 2004. This is why they probably replaced it with a "voice over-less" version just 2 years later. However they still felt the need to add some more updates. Candy just wasn't the same as it was in 1996. This is a post Y2K world and we gotta let the kids know the M&M's are on the world wide web, yo! So they put the mms.com url in the corner along with replacing the picture of the bag with a newfangled CGI rotating M&M's candy that changes color with each rotation. Also they added their stupid slogan from 2006 in there. Idk every slogan they come up with other than "melts in your mouth not in your hand" has felt like something you'd read on an ugly "rustic aesthetic" sign that a white woman would buy from Hobby Lobby.

These changes may seem minute, but there is a clear change in motivation from this new version. Obviously the url shows us that M&M's have obviously entered the information age, but I think the change from the bag to the candy does show a clear deviation in this ad's intentions. Where originally it was trying to advertise the fancy special holiday bags, it now seems to be more of a holiday greeting from M&M's Mars in general. It's not about promoting a specific product just kinda....the concept of M&M's. A subtle change, but a clearly directed one.

Nevertheless, this isn't the final version of the ad. Because apparently TV's didn't stop changing in 2006 and by the late 2010's this ad looked like shit again. I remember in 2017/2018 seeing this ad come on screen and it looked like it had been through twenty different VHS's before it started airing. The picture quality was genuinely getting more and more embarrassing every year. So in 2019 they remastered it again

This time the picture quality is about as good as you can manage to get commercial grade video from 1996 to look. The CGI characters aren't gonna suddenly get more polygons, but on the whole it looks fine. The big change again comes at the end with the url changing positions and the slogan being axed because they realized nobody cares about their generic millennial phrases. Also the spinning candy seems to have been reanimated.

The big thing about this one for me (and the 2006 one to some extent), is just how jarrng the new edits stick out. Yellow and Red are right there. I know how good the CGI from 1997 was, and that spinning red and green candy has more triangles on it than both Red AND Yellow do directly below it.

But I'm not gonna sit here and act like the original was without SOME jank. Santa's "They do exist!" is ADR'd so obviously. Or maybe that's just what Santa sounds like. Idk he's been around for a few centuries maybe it's part of the immortality is your mouth not matching your words.

Anyway any more paragraphs about a 15 second commercial and I'll be institutionalized. Don't worry about me though, I hear they got Guess Who over at the asylum, and I've been itchin' to play a couple rounds. Oh right, and the M&M's commercial is good.

10/10

#m&ms #commercial #Christmas Commercials #christmas specials #Cracker Factory Family Christmas 2024 #Review No. 2

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the-domestication-of-the-dog · 1 year ago

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The 13th Annual(??) L.A.O.K. Awards

The Lazy Sack-of-Shit Award Me

For, in the second time in the history of the awards, posting this list after the completion of the following awards year. Wow, the first two-time winner of the Lazy Sack-of-Shit Award. This is so unexpected, I uh- I didn't even have a speech prepared. Uh, but I would like to say this: tardiness, is not something you can do all on your own. I'd like to thank my two-year-old daughter Rosie, for needing and deserving constant attention, a brain disorder called adult attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, and the engineers at Reddit, Instagram, and YouTube for creating systems of crippling dopamine feedback loops, without which, I might never be tardy.

Now I know you've all been opening this site every morning and hitting refresh to see when these would finally be posted, so without further ado...

The most dangerous thing about the Layokies…is that you may grow to love them too much. [This is a reference to Avatar: The Way of Water. Remember that movie? It grossed $684 million domestically.] The people (3) have spoken, and the Layokies, even if massively delayed, must go on. [At the time of writing this, I was a month or two behind, but then instead of finishing and posting it, I just…didn’t. But here we are a year later, and I do want to post my 2023 Layokies (also massively delayed), but it seems weird to do that without first posting the 2022 Layokies, so hey let’s blaze through this thing and you can find out what I thought about some movies from over two years ago.]

I love celebrating movies, so it’s kind of a bummer to me that this year felt like Dullsville, U.S.A. But I’ve said that previously, then reread years later and thought, ‘what was I thinking, these movies were great!’ So here’s to the perspective you get when time passes. What’s that called? Retrospecticus or something.

I’ll also note that, as listed in last year’s post [a.k.a. two-years-ago’s post], I had a baby, which, as predicted, severely limited my in-theater viewing. I also moved to Pasadena, which meant those films I did see in the theater were relegated to the AMC Santa Anita. You know my thoughts about AMCs (and pretty much all megaplex chains), but even AMC Century City has the big IMAX seats. AMC Santa Anita’s IMAX is in just like, a normal theater?? I just saw The Super Mario Bros. Movie in this exact theater and it was SO. QUIET. But that’s a Layokies for another year [which is actually this year. Also this has since been remedied, and now they have one with the big seats and all, and I recently saw Dune: Part Two there, and it looked and sounded great so woohoo.]

Narrative Film Everything Everywhere All at Once TÁR Thirteen Lives Top Gun: Maverick Women Talking

Boy this is a real bummer. FOUR out of my five favorite movies were nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars, and maybe that’s why I never posted this edition of the Layokies. What fun is talking about movies without also being contrarian? Typically there’ll be some movie I see in the middle of the summer that wows me, which absolutely no one else cares about, talks about, or even watches. That movie never came, because Everything Everywhere All at Once was already being talked about as one of the best movies of all time a week into its release, so much so that it felt like you were some weird guzmo if you gave it 3.5 stars on Letterboxed instead of 5, where it currently sits as the 25th highest-rated narrative film of all time [but actually currently at #103; whoops just checked again: #118]. I was more in the latter camp, and we all know the rest. Even the “irrelevant” Academy agreed. Okay then, let’s look to my second-favorite movie of the year, a drama about women who sit around debating in a barn for 90 minutes. Ah, that’s more like it, who would want to watch that? Except…another Best Picture nomination. This is really annoying! You have to scroll all the way down– [and here my commentary from early 2023 broke off. Scroll all the way down for what?! We shall never know. While I had slotted everything in for awards, all prose after this point was composed on or after February 3, 2024, so I’ll do my best to remember.]

And the Layokie goes to… Everything Everywhere All at Once

“EEAAO” as they call it, was truly a great film, and it was cool and weird to see it garner such recognition. The last time my own pick won Best Picture was 12 Years a Slave, which of course it did. The momentum behind this one, however, I still can’t understand. Looking back, it still feels like it should have been normie repellant. I can only guess that the efforts made by the Academy in the decade-long wake of #OscarsSoWhite is actually changing the demographics as intended, not just for race, but age and all other types of diversity.

Honorable Mentions Avatar: The Way of Water Bones and All The Menu Pearl The Whale

Documentary Film Bitterbrush Cow Claydream A House Made of Splinters Navalny

You might have heard of A House Made of Splinters (which is devastating btw—the only other movie to put me in literal racking sobs beside Benjamin Button [and wouldn’tcha know they’re both about child abandonment?]) and Navalny from their Oscar nominations (and Navalny’s win)[RIP], but the other three on my list weren’t even shortlisted, and they were all incredible. Bitterbrush follows two cowgirls as they work the sprawling ranges of the American West and wax poetic on a number of subjects. Its incredible vistas are paired with an amazing classical score and soundtrack. Claydream is the story of how the animator behind classic works like the California Raisins eventually had his studio hostilely taken over by Phil Knight’s son (which if you don’t know who that is and what the studio became, is very worth not spoiling). I’m an animation fan, but this was still a gripping story of a generally unknown American master which is both worth your time, and worthy of a Moneyball-style narrative adaptation. Lastly Cow…well let’s just say if you enjoyed Gunda, give this one a watch you sick bastard.

And the Layokie goes to… Bitterbrush

Naturally, the best doc of the year wasn’t even shortlisted. A trend we may see continue in 2023…? However, you can watch Bitterbrush now on Hulu, and I suggest you do.

Honorable Mentions All That Breathes Bad Axe Children of the Mist Nothing Lasts Forever The Territory

Actress Mia Goth - Pearl Cate Blanchette - TÁR Michelle Yeoh - Everything Everywhere All at Once Aubrey Plaza - Emily the Criminal Leslie Manville - Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris

Okay this would have been a pretty cool category at the time, highlighting unsung performances by Mia Goth, Aubrey Plaza, and Leslie Manville. Here are three movies worth seeking out just for their leads (Okay, you probably won’t miss anything not seeing Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris, but for Pearl and Emily the Criminal, I sincerely mean this. Aubrey Plaza has serious chops.) And if you’re not a horror fan, please know that Pearl is so much more, and you’ll miss absolutely nothing by not watching X first (or at all [unless you are a Kid Cudi stan like me]).

And the Layokie goes to… Cate Blanchette - TÁR

Another tossup, but the Layokie way seems to be, when in doubt, give it to Cate Blanchette. Unlike one dear reader, I’ve only seen TÁR once, but perhaps because the character is so commanding and desperate for attention, so is the performance.

Honorable Mentions Viola Davis - The Woman King Carey Mulligan - She Said Tilda Swinton - Three Thousand Years of Longing

Actor Tom Cruise - Top Gun: Maverick Brendan Fraser - The Whale Idris Elba - Three Thousand Years of Longing Park Hae-il - Decision to Leave Ralph Fiennes - The Menu

And the Layokie goes to… Brendan Fraser - The Whale

Let me tell ya, the people were maaad that Austin Butler didn’t win best actor for Elvis last year. For whatever reason, members of the public call and email the Academy every year to provide their opinions on who and what should and shouldn’t have won (I got a call six months into 2020 to tell me how shameful it was that Parasite won Best Picture, not because it was a bad movie, but because there were so many American movies worthy of attention. I asked her if she had seen Parasite. She hadn’t.), but I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a strong reaction to someone not winning more than Austin Butler. But the Academy got it right, in my opinion. Brendan Fraser played this role with simultaneous sadness and pathos and optimism. It was really remarkable. Typically, the strong performances I’m drawn to, and which generally receive recognition, project outwards. Brendan Fraser’s character in The Whale, perhaps appropriately, seems instead to draw everyone and everything else into himself.

Honorable Mentions Ram Charan - RRR Felix Kammerer - All Quiet on the Western Front Viggo Mortensen - Thirteen Lives (because why the hell not)

Supporting Actor Colin Farrell - The Batman Barry Keoghan - The Banshees of Inisherin Mark Rylance - Bones and All Ke Huy Quan - Everything Everywhere All at Once Miles Teller - Top Gun: Maverick

And the Layokie goes to… Colin Farrell - The Batman

Colin Farrell is showing up a lot in this edition of the Layokies, but nothing was more impressive than his complete transformation into the Penguin. I watched this a couple times, and if I was into conspiracy theories, I still might not believe it was him. Also shoutout to one of my boys, now three-time Layokie-nominee Barry Keoghan. Where y’all been? We done been hyping Barry Keoghan over here since 2017.

Honorable Mentions Christopher Abbot - On the Count of Three Christian Bale - Thor: Love and Thunder Paul Dano - The Batman (Did you know he had to pull out of The Power of the Dog for this role? Ouch.) Paul Dano - The Fabelmans Colin Farrell - Thirteen Lives Nicholas Hoult - The Menu Aaron Taylor Johnson - Bullet Train Ben Whishaw - Women Talking

Supporting Actress Nicole Beharie - Breaking Angela Basset - Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (thought this before everyone else said it) Jessie Buckley - Women Talking Claire Foy - Women Talking Hong Chau - The Menu

Another actor getting nominated for the wrong role, Hong Chau was hilarious in The Menu. I watched that once and still think of her line delivery every time I eat a “tortilla.” But it was basically the whole cast of Women Talking that stole it this year, and this could have gone to anyone one them. (Three years too early for that casting Oscar!)

And the Layokie goes to… Jessie Buckley - Women Talking

Honorable Mention Dolly De Leon - Triangle of Sadness Stephanie Hsu - Everything Everywhere All at Once Rooney Mara - Women Talking

Best Director Edward Berger - All Quiet on the Western Front Daniels - Everything Everywhere All at Once Todd Field - TÁR Ron Howard - Thirteen Lives Joseph Kosinski - Top Gun: Maverick

And the Layokie goes to… Joseph Kosinski - Top Gun: Maverick

Absolutely incredible that both this and Spiderhead were directed by the same person. If you have no idea what Spiderhead is, it’s a Netflix movie that came out the same year about a guy who goes to an island prison where they test potions on you and Chris Hemsworth is the head potion-making guy and also he’s evil, which is supposed to be a big reveal but is obvious from the beginning. Anyway it was super forgettable and got dumped to the recesses of the algorithm in about a week, while Top Gun: Maverick is indelible and single-handedly saved movies after the pandemic. The second time I watched this, I paid attention to all the little things: driving shots, dialogue shots. It hits such a sweet spot between invisible and obvious style. No big surprise, however, as Tron: Legacy and Oblivion are also supremely well-directed action movies.

Honorable Mentions Park Chan-wook - Decision to Leave Ruben Östlund - Triangle of Sadness Maria Schrader - She Said Ti West - Pearl

Original Screenplay Park Chan-wook & Chung Seo-kyung - Decision to Leave Daniels - Everything Everywhere All at Once Seth Reiss & Will Tracy - The Menu Todd Field - TÁR Ruben Östlund - Triangle of Sadness

And the Layokie goes to… Daniels - Everything Everywhere All at Once

Pretty sure these guys went to the Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon school of screenwriting, as this movie has everything: action, sci-fi, romance, about four different levels of family drama, and plays on all our deepest emotions: acceptance, ambition, self-worth, existentialism.

Honorable Mentions John Patton Ford - Emily the Criminal William Nicholson & Don MacPherson - Thirteen Lives

Adapted Screenplay Samuel D. Hunter - The Whale David Kajganich - Bones and All Rebecca Lenkiewicz - She Said Sarah Polley - Women Talking Ti West & Mia Goth - Pearl

I don’t know why, but after listening to the audiobooks for She Said and Catch and Kill, I wholly expected She Said to come in and ham it up big time. But where lesser filmmakers would have attempted to erect a monument to the #metoo movement, She Said played it totally straight. It was more akin to Spotlight than any other film I could think of, and as worthy of praise. It’s too bad the subject matter was already 1,000 times bigger than the movie, because I think the film audience missed out on a real gem here.

And the Layokie goes to… Sarah Polley - Women Talking

That said, there’s another movie about women talking I liked even better, Women Talking. I’m still stunned this was nominated for Best Picture. In what world? It’s currently on Prime, so if you haven’t seen it, add it to your list. It’s also the perfect companion to any movie that receives my wife’s most common film criticism: “It was just a bunch of men talking.” (Think: any war movie.)

Honorable Mentions Like five different guys - Top Gun: Maverick

Now onto the fun stuff:

The Something Award Prey

The Nothing Award Amsterdam

Worst ADR in the History of Movies Hustle

Okay I can’t find this clip online, but it is so egregious, I think it’s worth the effort. Go on Netflix and start watching Hustle starring Adam Sandler at the 17:00 mark. Note how echoey the office is, then give it until Ben Foster’s line “You find me that missing piece, and you’ll be right back on the bench coaching.” I’ve watched this clip probably 25 times, and I absolutely love it. For me, it’s impossible not to picture him in a little sound booth reading that line with headphones on.

Now I’m guessing if any of you did go and watch this, you might be thinking, yeah okay, so what? And already knowing what’s coming and watching it in this manner, maybe it is a so what. But to watch as many movies as I do, and to have heard as much bad ADR as one would, and then to have Ben Foster reach out and smack you in the face with this poorly done a line of ADR…ah, it’s like a holy grail of lazy/rushed/bad filmmaking. It’s like up there with the Batman & Robin reverse shot. Let’s just say it was probably some studio executive’s fault.

Weeird Doubles Burning down rural Irish houses - The Banshees of Inisherin, The Wonder Doing donkeys dirty (oh baby a triple!) - EO, Triangle of Sadness, The Banshees of Inisherin Boring documentaries slowly zooming in on a few pixels - Three Minutes: A Lengthening, Riotsville, U.S.A. Fatties who just gotta stuff their face with candy - The Whale, Piggy

Best Song Naatu Naatu (of course) - RRR

Take it from someone who literally Naatu Naatu’d so hard that he fell over (but was Naatu Naatu-ing as a joke, but falling over wasn’t part of the joke, even though that’s exactly what happened the movie).

youtube

Also, The Whale Rap from Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue Rangers. (You can take this one from someone who as a kid did many freestyle raps with friends on the Windows sound recorder, and this is about how it usually went.)

youtube

The Michelle Williams Loves Getting Divorced Award The Fabelmans

I love Michelle Williams and I wish her and her characters all the best, but why is she always divorcing good men who love her?? Don’t make the vow then!

Previous examples include Take This Waltz and Blue Valentine (okay “good” might be a stretch on the latter, and I actually remember thinking they would get back together at the end anyway, though I will not be watching it again since that seems not to be how every other single person read that movie).

Finally Got the Thor Movie Poster Right Thor: Love and Thunder

Best Scenes After Yang - Opening credits Barbarian - Calculating the square footage The Batman - The car chase Bitterbrush - Saddling the horse Bones and All - Maren visits her mom Children of the Mist - The final kidnapping Everything Everywhere All at Once - Rocks with subtitles Navalny - The phone interview Nope - Aliens in the stables Pearl - Pearl’s dinner confession Top Gun: Maverick - Boy you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a fantastic scene in this one, but if I had to pick one…no, literally sitting here thinking, and I can’t decide. All so damn good. Buzzing the security checkpoint; Great Balls of Fire; any time Jon Hamm yells or gives a stank face; Maverick/Iceman reunion; dogfight football; Maverick doing the solo training run; the actual climactic run; and the hug at the end. Triangle of Sadness - The food poisoning (a sequence really) RRR - Naatu Naatu (again, undeniable)

Here’s where I usually link to the A.V. Club’s annual list of best scenes. Sadly, they stopped producing it starting the 2022 awards year.

The 3rd Annual Oklahoma Connections Award Pretty sure one of the girls in Bitterbrush moves to Oklahoma at the end of it or something. Otherwise not a banner year for Oklahoma mentions, except…

The 2nd Annual Shawnee Honors Two years, two shoutsout for my hometown of Shawnee, OK:

2022 - Babylon: Brad Pitt gets told off for pretending to be Italian when he is actually from Shawnee. (And Brad Pitt actually was born in Shawnee. YouTubers doing the Lord’s work.) 2021 - Stillwater: Matt Damon did some work down in Shawnee (mispronounced Shawny instead of Shaw-NEE; shameful, Matt!)

Good in Everything Award Colin Farrell - After Yang, The Banshees of Inisherin, The Batman, Thirteen Lives Tilda Swinton - Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio, The Eternal Daughter, Three Thousand Years of Longing

Destigmatizing Fatness Award The Whale (in some ways but also mostly not) Three Thousand Years of Longing (in some ways but also mostly not) Piggy (in some ways but also really mostly not)

Worst Movies

Mad God

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

Lightyear

Luck

Deep Water

White Noise

Hocus Pocus 2

Halloween Ends

Ambulance

Scream (2022)

Best Visuals Avatar: The Way of Water The Bad Guys Bitterbrush EO Everything Everywhere All at Once Fire of Love Puss in Boots: The Last Wish Three Thousand Years of Longing 😎

Movie That Deserves Discussion The Northman

I am usually so down for folklore, medieval period pieces, and a bunch of crazy shit happening, but for me, this was a big miss. Already discussed in my Letterboxd review.

Best Title Our Father

This was a (pretty poorly made) documentary about a religious fanatic and sick-in-the-head fertility doctor who fraudulently used his own sperm to impregnate over 100 women. So, Our Father. I’ve always been a sucker for a double meaning, but damn.

Worst Title Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

Remember the megahit Knives Out? Well now there’s a sequel; it’s called Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery. It is the sequel to Knives Out.

Worst Line “That’s a great time hack! Thank you kindly” -One of the witches in Hocus Pocus 2, not 10 seconds after struggling to pronounce the word lotion (“loh-shun, lohh-shuun”), you know, because they’re from the past and don’t know modern terms, like lotion.

Worst Restraint for the Criminally Insane The shackle around the Riddler’s neck that was so large he could have just lifted it over his dern head

Where Were the Bones?? Bones and All

Many LOLs Everything Everywhere All at Once The Menu RRR

(not too many LOLs this year)

Absent on Purpose Aftersun Causeway Elvis Living

Still Haven’t Seen I don’t remember

One cheeseburger to go. And a gift bag. Thank you for dining at Hawthorn.

#movies #layokies

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ibarap · 2 years ago

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[Scout] White Bear / Pure White Diary 5

Hiyori: These photos of White Bear watching people practice in the Dance Room... Did Yuzuru-kun take these? It's funny seeing Ibara trying to keep up a smile. ♪

Hiyori: —Tsumugi-kun, did we get everything? We didn't forget to buy anything, did we?

Tsumugi: Let me check the list just to be sure. Umm—

...Yes, we bought all the toys on here earlier.

Adonis: I see. All that's left is just making memories with White Bear. We took all kinds of photos since we started up until today, but...

...

Hiyori: What's wrong, Adonis-kun?

If there's something on your mind, you can tell us.

Adonis: ...Of course. It's not that important—

But while things are progressing smoothly with our goal to have fun this winter for that boy, I feel like we haven't taken any photos that have a Christmas-like feeling to them.

Leo: A Christmas-sy feeling? If it was about songs instead, I could make up as many as I wanted to on the spot.

But we can't do that for pictures, so hmm~.

Hiyori: ...

...Okay, I know just the place.

Over here, follow me!

Hiyori: Here we are! We can take Christmas photos here!

Tsumugi: Looks like they put in a lot of effort into the Christmas lights~.

Are you familiar with this place, Hiyori-kun?

Hiyori: Of course, I've gone here with Jun-kun before, after all.

I don't need to put up a Christmas tree at home when the ones here are all so pretty.

Do you like it, White Bear?

Leo: He can see the lights twinkling 'cause it's bouncing off his button-eyes~. He seems really happy. ♪

Ooh, from this angle, you could take a photo of White Bear admiring the trees.

Say cheese... ☆

Adonis: Yeah, it looks like we were able to take all kinds of good pictures.

Leo: Yeah! Speaking of pictures, back then, I saw Aira taking pictures photos of idol merch around downtown. [1]

At the time, I didn't get what was so fun about it, but now I think I understand how he feels just a little... ♪

Yuzuru: —Aoba-sama, here's your tea.

Tsumugi: Waah, thank you, Fushimi-kun.

Yuzuru: You're welcome. I'm sorry I wasn't able to join you all in preparing for the Christmas party.

Tsumugi: Don't worry about it. When the project was left in our hands, the only thing that had been finalised at the time was that we'd be singing and giving presents to children.

But everyone's busy around this time of year, so it's no one's fault.

More importantly, Fushimi-kun, I'm worried you'll be tiring yourself out with the Shuffle Unit project so soon after. Are you going to be okay?

Yuzuru: Fufu, I'm very grateful for your consideration. I'll be okay.

I can even sing the Christmas song Tsukinaga-sama wrote from memory already. ♪ ...Oh?

It's Hiyori-sama. Good evening.

Hiyori: Good evening, Yuzuru-kun.

Tsumugi-kun, thanks for waiting! I brought White Bear with me!

I sent the photos I took over HoldHands! Could you check if they went through already?

Tsumugi: Please wait a bit~. ...Yes, I got them.

Hiyori: That's good. There's a lot of photos that I like, so I need to ask that boy if I can post them on my social media too!

Like this photo of me and Blood Mary in her Santa-san costume with White Bear! The whole world will fall in love with it. ♪

We took a lot of pics together with White Bear, but how are we gonna give it as a present to that boy?

Tsumugi: I was thinking we'd give it to him in a digital photo frame. That way, we can give him a lot of photos withough taking up too much space. [2]

I already put in all the photos other than the ones you sent me just now.

Please feel free to pick out the ones you like.

Hiyori: Okay, let me do just that.

These photos of White Bear watching people practice in the Dance Room... Did Yuzuru-kun take these? It's funny seeing Ibara trying to keep up a smile. ♪

And I just know these ones of White Bear drinking tea in the garden is by Leo-kun! Tsukasa-kun and the rest of Knights are in the photos with him, after all.

And the ones in the Training Room are by Adonis-kun. It's cute seeing White Bear sitting on top of a sports towel.

We built a snowman, had a snowball fight, and made memories with White Bear as a Christmas present together.

We made memories in every photo—

...Ah.

Yuzuru: Is something wrong, Hiyori-sama?

Hiyori: ...We made those memories with White Bear, that's why looking at these photos feels nostalgic.

But I think it's a bit sad that they're nothing but photos of White Bear to that boy. If only we could share those memories we have together with him too...

Tsumugi: Memories, huh?

...

...Then, what if we give him a diary along with the digital photo frame?

Hiyori: A diary?

Tsumugi: Yes, a diary where we write about the memories we made this winter with White Bear.

We'll put pictures and decorate it with stickers and washi tape to make it the only one of its kind in the world.

If we do that, we can share our memories with him.

Hiyori: Waah, I like your idea, Tsumugi-kun!

Let's do that! Let's give him our memories together as a present too! That's fine weather... ☆

Notes:

I have no idea if this is referencing an actual story or not.

Digital photo frame: It's like an actual photo frame, but with an LCD screen you load the photos on as a slideshow.

» Prev | Masterlist | Next «

#◎ translation #notice: unproofed #hiyori tomoe #tsumugi aoba #adonis otogari #leo tsukinaga #yuzuru fushimi

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michelleplayswithfire · 2 years ago

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i made an 80s christmas playlist back in my 20s when i got annoyed by hearing the same christmas songs all day long for a month leading up to xmas day on the radio just about every place i went to

except for last christmas, and maybe a couple more songs (thank the uk chart for this), most of the songs are very 80s and they actually do put a smile on my face any chance i get

that is why i said i dislike christmas and do not really hate christmas

it really is what you make of it, which is why i didn't eat any turkey this thanksgiving (not the first time it happened and probably not the last) but it was mainly because i wasn't in the mood to eat any

i talked about it with someone at work and i got looked at like i was crazy but whatever

the point was me trying to relax, knowing that i had to get up early the next morning to go to work and i did just that

i've been to christmas parties, some were good, some were not

i've taken pictures with a makeshift santa claus when i was a kid

i've participated in toy drives and volunteered in soup kitchens

i've been in a parade once

but the past couple of years have just been completely miserable (except for last year, it wasn't too bad) but i always say that next year is going to be better

and i feel like the older i more i felt the need to stand up to myself and tell people that it's not okay to treat me bad and that i deserve some respect

i wish i had something interesting to say about this season, and maybe i do later on, but this year hasn't been the best for me and i wish people at my job would just give me space because i am going thru it hence all these posts because i'm trying to relax but inside i'm trying to not get a headache and i have to deal with these people again at work tomorrow morning

i dunno

#personal #i just want to smile a pretend like nothing happened #and i'm totally fine #but deep down i'm furious

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lustinglilac · 3 years ago

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Santa’s Lap

A/N: Here is the final version of the holiday smut! I apologize it took so long to post :(

Warnings: language, smut, 18+

She’d chosen the skimpiest elf costume to wear at their friend’s annual holiday party, Jack choosing to go as Santa this year.

She turned around at her vanity, smoothing her hands down the leather skirt that stopped right under her ass, the thong underneath doing nothing to conceal her. She thanked god her skirt didn’t have a zipper, barely getting it past her thighs as it was.

She bent over, lacing up her boots, unaware of Jack’s presence.

“Shit, baby—” He chuckles, pressing a hand to the base of her spine, making her arch for him as the velvet of his pants skimmed her exposed thighs. She grabs for his hand blindly, pulling herself up and turning around to face him.

“You like?” She hums, placing her palms flat against his chest clad in a plain white tanktop, the top half of his Santa suit still unbuttoned.

“You look sexy.” Bottom lip caught between his teeth, “Too sexy.” Eyes raking over her body.

“Come on.” She buttons his costume up for him, placing a chaste kiss to his lips and grabbing her purse off the bed. She led the way down their hallway with Jack very close behind nearly pressed against her body.

“Are you wearing any panties under that?” His calloused palm skims the back of her thighs, grabbing at the supple flesh.

She gasps as the rough action pulls her asscheeks apart, cool air hitting her most sensitive spot, “Baby! Yes, I am—“ She lifts her skirt up teasingly showing him the flimsy thong, “See.” Putting her skirt back down, throwing a flirty smile over her shoulder.

He let out a harsh breath, catching her by the waist pulling her flush against him, hand going up to her throat, “Good girl.” His words going straight to her throbbing clit as he held her in place tilting her head back by her jaw capturing her lips in a heated kiss.

His tongue softly massaging her own, a whimper bubbling at the back of her throat as he squeezed her throat before letting her go.

“Let’s go.” He wipes at his lip with his thumb, smirking knowing he had her right where he wanted. In a daze, she fixed her lipgloss, stumbling after him as her feet carried her on their own accord.

Outside, the cold air nipped at her exposed skin as he held the door to his car open, helping her get in before jogging to his side. She shivered slightly at the coolness of the seats though it felt good against her thighs. He drove with a hand resting on her thigh, caressing it every now and then making her squirm. She was already regretting putting on such a revealing outfit as it did nothing to hide how much she wanted him.

They arrived a few minutes later, pulling up to the lavish house that was hosting for the year. She adjusted her skirt and corset before grabbing Jack’s hand and walking up the steps.

The door opened, “Santa’s fuckin’ here! About damn time man, come on.” His friend opened the door, hugging both of them.

They greeted everyone around them, some girls dressed as reindeer or elves just like her while others opted for more conservative options. She conversated with the girls as they obsessed over her outfit, blatantly telling her Jack was gonna have her in all different positions later.

She sipped on her drink as she danced and made her way around to talk to guests, brushing up against Jack whenever she’d walk past.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease y’know that?” He spoke in her ear, “Rubbing your ass on my dick all night. In front of our friends. Y’like that don’t you?” Her pussy clenched at his words alone and he knew it.

She could barely form a sentence, loving when he took control. She leaned up to kiss his lips once more, not saying anything else.

“C’mon, we need to take pictures! You guys look so cute!” Her friend grabs her arm, pulling them towards the Christmas themed set up in the foyer.

She sat Jack down on the throne, sliding her ass on his lap adjusting herself so that she was comfortable. They posed for pictures, his hands brushing up and down her thighs, lips pressed to her neck. He didn’t care for her friends being there, he was sure they all spoke about their sex life anyway.

“I got a pose for you—“ Without warning, Jack lifts her, turning her around motioning for her to lay across his lap. Her friend nearly drops her phone, gasping at his gesture but going with it nonetheless.

She arched her back slightly, Jack grabbing a handful of her ass, palming her. Her hands rested crossed on her lower back taking a few more pictures before letting her get up.

“You wanna be naughty?“ Jack hums against her lips, she tasted like peppermint and hot chocolate.

“Maybe.” She smirks, pushing the minty candy cane further in her mouth as he watched.

“Can’t wait to fuck you.” Hooded eyes watching her every move. The butterflies in her stomach only increased, waiting for him to bid a goodnight to their friends and take her home.

She clenched her thighs together not being able to focus on anything around her except the wetness between her legs, minutes feeling like hours before Jack finally decided to leave.

She nearly pounced on him the minute he closed his door, sliding a hand behind his neck and pulling him closer for a kiss.

“Lemme drive us home and I promise I’ll do whatever you want me to.” Jack speaks against her swollen lips, making her pout slightly but comply as she sat back in her seat. They’d gotten home in record time, Jack intoxicated by her scent alone.

The moment the door closed, she was pressed against it, back arching into his cool touch as he kissed her, teeth and tongues clashing.

“Jack.” She whimpers softly when he pulls on her lip, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen island.

“I’m starvin’—“ He smirks, pressing her against the cold counter, kissing down her neck.

Her fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, sighing when he pulls down her top, warm mouth latching onto her hardened nipples.

“Fuuuuck fuck.” Her panties were uncomfortably soaked as she pressed her thighs together for any sort of friction.

“Lay back for me.” Jack helps her to sit on the counter, pushing her skirt up.

She sat up on her elbows, cool air hitting her exposed breasts, watching him peel her thong off. The butterflies in her stomach only increasing as she anticipated his warm mouth.

“Jack, please.” She moans, “I’m so fucking wet I need you to—“ She chokes on her words when he licks a line up her pussy, swirling his tongue around her exposed clit.

“This what you want?” He hums against her pussy, her wetness soaking his beard, dark blue eyes boring into hers. He pinches her nipple slightly, back arching into his touch.

She nods, too speechless to speak as she knew her words would fail her anyway.

“Yesyesyesyes.” Her words slurred, jaw slack gripping the marble to anchor herself back to reality.

He continues his assualt with the tip of his tongue delving even deeper, free hand coming up to rest on her exposed breast.

“Please, fuck, please.” Broken gasps escape her mouth, unsure of what she was even saying.

“So close, Jack, fuuuuuck.” Her calves flex around his shoulders, legs shaking as he caressed her clit with the tip of his thumb.

“Cum for me babygirl, that’s it— fuck yeah.” He watches as her back arches off the marble, grinding her pussy into his chin.

Her body convulsed with small aftershocks, breathing ragged as she tried to calm down, heart nearly beating out of her chest.

“So good for me, baby.” Jack hums out a praise.

“Next time, we ain’t makin’ it out the house with this on.” He pulls her dress off discarding it on the kitchen floor, pulling her up for another kiss and leading them to their shared bedroom.

Jack stood behind her, the Santa suit pushed halfway down his torso as he skimmed her bare thighs pulling them apart and coating his cock in her juices.

“Jack, baby—“ Her hand reaching down, guiding his dick inside of her, rocking back on his length as she stood nearly on her toes to accomodate him. She grabbed onto the curls at the nape of his neck pulling him down for a sloppy kiss.

His hands going straight for her tits, “I know baby, you feel so fuckin’ good right now.” He sighs, finally bottoming out inside her tight pussy.

“Yeah make me cum, Jack.” She pouts against his lips, eyes rolling back when the tip of his cock touched that spongy spot that had her seeing stars.

“Fuckfuck yes.” She whimpers, making Jack fuck her faster and deeper with each sound she made.

“C-close, right there— ugh!” A particularly hard thrust had her gripping onto him, whining loudly as she felt the pressure building.

“You gonna cum? Huh? Wanna feel you.” He teased in her ear, large fingers rubbing tight circles onto her sensitive clit making her sopping wet, their cum dripping down her thighs.

“So fucking good— yesyesyes-“ A choked sob left her mouth, clenching her cunt around his thick length, once, twice, her arousal drenching him as she fucked herself back on his cock.

Jack merely hummed, “Fucking love your pussy.” Before placing a soft kiss to her cheek holding his lips there for a moment and letting go, his hips slowing down.

Her hazy eyes flickered to the bedside alarm, the numbers reading well past midnight. She smiled loving the feeling of him inside of her still.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” She whispered, humming as he attacked her neck with warm kisses.

“Merry Christmas, babygirl, can’t wait to give you your presents.”

#jack harlow smut #jack harlow

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pinky-the-elephant-room · 4 years ago

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sometimes sharing is not caring

☆☆AN✮✮ Yes hello I'm late for Christmas I know. That's the story of my life. Late AF. Also I've been writing Himbo All Might for so long that writing flirty AM makes me tingly. I like it. I should write more of this.

✮✮Warnings★★ All Might x Male Reader. SFW.

☆☆✮✮★★☆☆✮✮★★

Oh no. This was bad.

He gnawed on his nails as the retweets kept increasing. As an artist, notoriety was welcomed by him. But not this way. Thankfully his pseudonym had come in handy, and no one knew it was him. Sorry, cornflower45000.

See, what had happened was one of his friends had requested an NSFW drawing after her present got lost in the mail. So feeling guilty, Y/N obliged and sent it off with a “Merry Christmas” and “Please don’t share it online.”

Only for her to share it online.

It’s not that Y/N wasn’t proud of his work. It was one of those rare moments where he couldn't nitpick at the flaws in his art. But he really didn’t want a nude drawing of All Might wrapped in Christmas lights and a Santa hat to go viral!

And the worst part was All Might was his boss! There was no way he could face the pro hero without uncontrollable sweating and blushing. Y/N worked so hard to remain calm and collected in his presence. To maintain professionalism when all he wanted was All Might to sign his underwear.

Well, that might be going a bit too far. Maybe just an autograph that Y/N could later get tattooed on his chest.

But now, if All Might found out it was him, there would be no doubt he was going to get fired. That's why he, Y/N, would confess to his crimes before he was.

Growing up, he was the type of kid who hated to lie and would immediately confess to his parents whenever he did something wrong. There was no way Y/N could sit in suspense and tolerate the guilt. It was going to eat him up alive otherwise.

“Y/N-san?” someone called.

His head snapped up, and he saw All Might’s receptionist looking at him expectantly.

“Yes?”

“You may go in now.”

“Thanks.” Y/N did a quick bow of his head and walked into All Might’s office.

The muscular hero was sitting at his desk in a signature yellow suit and had a worried look on his face as he did his paperwork.

Y/N excused himself, “Sorry to disturb you. I have something I want to talk about.”

All Might looked up, and a broad smile stretched across his face.

“Y/N! You can come talk to me anytime, and now I have an excuse not to do this paperwork.”

He then took his paperwork and shoved it into his drawer haphazardly.

“How can I help?”

“Before I say anything,” Y/N began. “I want you to know that I respect you, and I never wanted things to go this far. I hope you can forgive me.”

All Might frowned, “Are you ok? Did something happen?”

“It’s all my fault! I should never have done it. I didn't think she would post it on the internet!”

Y/N’s words confused All Might, who looked at him contemplatively. Y/N, on the other hand, didn't notice, continued his tirade.

“I acted unprofessionally, and I drew an image in your likeness. It became viral.”

He finished quietly, “It’s also a mature image.”

The hero leaned in and said, “What was that? I couldn't hear.”

“I drew a sexy picture of you with Christmas lights and a Santa hat!”

All Might blinked several times and just sat there in his chair. “Oh.”

“Was it nice at least?”

“All Might!” Y/N yelped. “You can’t ask that! You need to discipline me. As your employee, I violated some part of my contract. In fact, you should suspend me.”

“Y/N, I think that’s going a bit too far-”

“Without pay!” Y/N then slammed his hands on All Might’s desk and leaned in intensely. “I absolutely deserve it.”

The pro hero nodded and patted Y/N’s hands.

“I understand. You’re right. Y/N, you’re suspended for a week.”

“Without pay,” Y/N interrupted.

“WIthout pay,” All Might amended. “However, while you’re gone. You have an assignment. I want to commission you.”

“Me?” Y/N asked, pointing to himself. “What did you have in mind?”

“Think of it as a New Year’s gift. Fireworks going off in the background.”

Y/N wondered if he should be writing this down if All Might was serious about his request. But he never got to as he was tugged across the table by his shirt. He was leaning forward, balancing on his toes after being manhandled by the older hero.

A surprised moan erupted from Y/N when All Might pulled him into a kiss. His mind went blank, and he was helpless. Just as Y/N was about to respond to the pro hero’s probing tongue, his clothes were let go, and they separated. He felt lingering regret as he met All Might’s equally flustered and needy eyes.

Thankfully he walked around his desk to kiss Y/N again. He could feel All Might’s hands gently caressing his cheeks which was a sharp contrast to how he kissed. He had never been so dominated in his life as he was trapped between the desk and the pro hero’s hard body. Though Y/N’s harsh breathing filled the space, it was All Might’s voice that drowned it out. All Might panted and moaned his name desperately but dove right back to kiss Y/N again.

“Fireworks in the background and us kissing,” All Might gasped when he let go of him.

“What?”

“My commission,” he reminded Y/N. “I want that when you come back.”

Oh right. He was suspended. Why did that happen again? Y/N’s mind was spinning and he couldn't get a handle on his thoughts at all.

“And by the way, I lied. I saw that art that you drew of me,” All Might said. Y/N’s eyes grew wide at his admission. “I liked it; however, there was one thing that threw me off.”

Y/N stiffened when he felt the pro hero’s hands pluck his belt.

“The size was all wrong.”

His cheeks blushed crimson, and All Might grinned mischievously.

“You can leave now. I’ll see you in a week, Y/N.”

He awkwardly bowed and made his way out stiffly, partly because he was embarrassed and partly because his cock was straining against his pants. Just as he was about to open the door, he stopped when he heard All Might’s voice.

“Let me know the next time you draw a nude of me. I’ll give you a reference, so it’s more accurate.”

Y/N, flustered, slammed the door hurriedly and walked away to the sound of All Might’s laughter.

#all might x reader #my hero academia #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #all might #boku no hero academia #mha #all might x male reader #all might x y/n #all might x you #bnha x you #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #mha x reader #mha all might #toshinori x y/n #toshinori x reader #toshinori x you

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burnyouwithacigarettelighter · 4 years ago

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part i, autonomy in your coherence | c.g

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

You’ve forgotten your feelings for Carl, because he didn’t feel the same.

You just wished you did a better job at it.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, suicide ideation

this is a continuation of watch you burn away and i recommend you read that, first! this is also part of a series, so here is the masterlist if you need it!

(cross-posted on ao3!)

Your father once told you he had a patient that died from heartbreak.

“Your heart can’t really break, though, right?” You’d said. A doctor for a father and a laboratory technician for a mother made you more than aware of things, seeing through the myths and pretty white lies of figures like Santa and the tooth fairy.

(They had gone through with it anyway, because although their child knew, it was a gateway to normality in such a busy home.)

Your father scratched his chin, unsure how to respond. “My patient had died from a broken heart, though the process wasn’t as simple as it’s term name. A broken heart — the nonliteral meaning — can be the cause and the domino toppling to many things that could lead to death.”

“Like what?” You’d said with little admission into the conversation, having been flicking through a novel you’d picked up a while back (which featured a one eyed pirate and his partner who’d ended up dying in the end — not that you knew, yet, at least.)

“I don’t know, er,” Your father swirled his coffee lightly, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “Mental health issues, for one. Erratic actions, depression, a lost sense of self. Obsession.”

“Huh,” You muttered, looking up at your father for the first time. “A lost sense of self? Really?”

“What is your father teaching you?” Your mother said, stepping into the kitchen with a questioning expression. The conversation ended there, without so much as a thought after.

You wish you pried your father for further answers. What you’d give to get the workaholic of a man to dump his duo psychology medical major thoughts unto you with little care.

The knowledge would be gold in your time of need, when pulling and pushing distance further between you was like venturing through a field of thorns.

(Perhaps you just missed your parents. But that couldn’t be it, right? They’d died and you had lived, their blood on your hands and the gun in your fingers, their glazed over eyes and your own that nearly matched, cold and willing without a drop of emotion.)

But you’d gotten through it for him— without him. Without anyone, quietly harboring scratches and bleeding from the field with little effort.

If someone asked, you would tell them with full and honest confidence that you harboured no more attachments. You were a naive teenager, running through your feet and over yourself for something that was just a crush.

Crushes are — in their whole singularity and purpose — temporary.

They are brief, and momentarily something that causes ripples and waves in your thoughts, just the slightest mention or faint sight makes you detour down a road of sickly sweet dreams and fantasies.

He was first love (like? You didn’t love him, no, it was a crush and it was something for the unattainable and the inappropriate — in which with full truth, he was.) so you poured the honey glazed remembrances and rose coloured lenses over your memories, because he was a first love, and you know that those were cracks in the heart, growing vines and constricting the part that was him — the part that’d always, always be there, without a doubt.

(However much you didn’t want it to be.)

The leaves and the venomous flowers that sprout in decaying grooves come with age, and you are older now.

You bear fresh scars that litter your entire being and wear newly buried bones of people who were once not just that, the dirt still sitting in the crevices of your nails, and you seem to forget their voices with each passing day.

More and more, the faces look like reference art rather than a taken from life picture, which was all telling them to sit still and watching their eyes crinkle at the edges when you show them the result, voices echoing and asking if they could have it.

Everyday, as it has become a peevish habit like biting your nails or obsessively reminding yourself your stove is off, you draw pictures of everyone.

If you are close enough with them, you ask the subject to sit and model for you, analyzing every breath and laugh they take when you crack a joke or engage them in meaningless conversation just to see how the light hits their brows when they raise, the shadows pooling in their aging lines.

Everyday, you wish and hope and even fucking pray that their portraits continue to be something of anxious routine, rather than trying to dump their image out of your head and onto paper so you can see their faces one more time.

His image seems to change with each moment he sits in for you, once a face with two piercing blues, then a patch and eyes that looked at the dusty wooden floor, and later, someone who looks at you straight, something that told you he was a survivor, who bore his battles proudly, the scar on the right of his face sitting ruggedly and bewitchingly.

You draw him, exactly the way you see him, and when you show him the picture, he laughs, and says “You made me look too pretty,” and you shake your head, “It’s exactly the way I see you.”

You do her, too, upon request. When she sits, you draw her almost like it was professional, drawing the curvature of her face with exact precision, intense shading, marking the features she holds. The dip in her nose, the straight of her hair.

(You often forget who you’re drawing in these moments, and when you step away from the canvas you’re hit with whiplash. It’s subconscious, the way you do these things to please him, wanting to see so clearly how his face spreads delicately with delight.)

It takes a little while for you to convince Ron. When you first propose the drawing, he gives you a confused face, before walking off to do shooting practice. He’s gotten better with the gun over the years, and doesn’t respond when you tell him you know why.

(His mother didn’t come out of it alive, and his brother didn’t come back without harm. The younger boy was alive, but would grow up with only his brother by his side and one less limb to account for.)

The second time, he makes a snide comment, albeit with no bite, about how ‘you must be a horrible artist, to ask me of all people to model for you.’

The third time, you’ve dragged him to the small office you makeshifted for the drawings in the garage. He studies every slit of paper you’ve ripped out of your book, the unfinished sketches or yet-to-be painted canvases piling up against the walls. Complete works sit proudly on your wall, displayed for the world to see.

His hands hover over the paints sitting on your desk, charcoal, dirt, sticks, paintbrushes, handmade dyes, wallpaper cut-outs.

“Why?” Ron says curiously.

“‘Why?’ what?” You echo, fiddling with a fork you grabbed from the kitchen, splaying out a thick lather combination of beet dye and cement onto your finger to check the consistency.

“Why do you draw these portraits? I get the others because,” He says, leaving the words “because they’re dead” hanging in the air between you two in mutual and regretful acknowledgement, “But you draw these everyday. You drag Carl and Enid off, or just sit on the benches and draw Maggie and Glenn knee-deep in the dirt.”

You sigh a dreadful breath, wiping the rest of the beet-cement mix onto the page with the pad of your fore-finger. “We’ll forget them one day.”

He looks at you, unblinking. The dead, the gone, and the soon to be long forgotten only existed in your memories, in your words, and when the time came that the world had moved on and stopped, they would cease. Their whole memory relied on the living, nothing about them able to reach and grasp life on their own. Memory was all that was left, and it was all you could do to wash away regret.

“And the rest?”

You bite your tongue hesitantly, your movements rigid, “You see their portraits. Everyday they get less and less coherent. When — when time comes , these drawings will be the only thing getting me by.” You whispered.

The ball had dropped. Coping and grief in it’s big and ugly form, preying on your conscious hungrily, taking shelter in your largest worries. Claws sunken in your flesh, the monster was a thing that felt like it would never go away, because it would loom right alongside death itself, watching and waiting for the moment they’d deemed someones time to have been enough.

(It would never be enough. Enough meant they’d pop in from next door and ask to borrow something, enough meant they’d swipe dirt across your face to make you angry — enough meant they would come in everyday and sit for their portrait once more.)

A creaking on the floorboard caught your attention, eyes watching as Ron’s feet walk to the corner of the room, before hopping onto the wooden seat with little effort.

“I’m not going. I never will. But — do it anyway. I’d… like to see how I look on paper.” He said cheekily, picking up a thin pencil off your desk and handing it out to you.

So you did. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes snowballed into hours in the dim lighting of the garage, asking the blond to turn his body, stretch his head and make different expressions, fulfilling and destroying the little worm of worry sitting in your head.

When you’re done with the charcoal, turning it around for Ron to see and to inspect, he asks, “What about you?”

“And what about me?” You say. His questions never make sense without further discussion, but the boy always has to wait for you to pry and ask him to elaborate.

“You don’t have any drawings of yourself. You’re the artist, the photographer, the one who makes these things that will stay longer than the memories and the words — so what about you?”

It’s rare that Ron delves into his emotions and the things he really means, but when he does, it’s something that stays, for a long while.

“I,” You didn’t have an answer for it. You weren’t one to do a self-portrait, it not being the same as having someone to sit and take from. “I don’t want to.” You finished simply, an ice cold realization coming to reality in you.

“Why?” He says the same words as before, but the words hold a heavy weight.

“I don’t know.”

You knew.

Maybe one day, you’d wished that you’d wash away like seafoam on the beach. You wouldn’t leave a single portrait behind of you, and the memories and the words were left mum behind his lips, because you knew how he got in a loss.

Quiet and unfeeling, it was so selfish of you that you’d counted on how he got in that state to leave you behind, neglecting you like the fruits of your memories you’d never get to bear.

Ron’s gaze bore into you like he knew exactly what you were thinking, telepathically taking in every thought you’d conveyed at your dispense.

“You should.” Is all he says, before stepping off the wooden stool and out the door.

What was wrong with you? You feel so… entirely foolish. Obsolete. Embarrassing.

You walked past the remnants of those who were gone everyday, obsessively creating canvas over canvas of them and the only thing you could think was that you’d wish to position yourself beside them?

This world was catching up to you, and fast, but you’d just have to run faster than it could.

#twd #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #chandler riggs #angst #the walking dead #twd x reader #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead carl #carl grimes x you

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cherrykindness · 4 years ago

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wild tweets |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: as newlyweds, you and harry read thirsty comments for buzzfeed.

warning: it's thirsty tweets, so below there is adult humor 😳

"It's a bright, sunny morning in Los Angeles, and there's nothing I want more than to be on BuzzFeed and read wild tweets alongside my husband."

"Thirsty tweets, babe." Harry corrected, laughing out loud with the producers behind the cameras.

"Thirsty Tweets." You said quickly, putting your hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. "I'm terrible at that, I'm sorry. Can we start over?"

"Let's take a break for one to two minutes. You've given us a great introduction, Y/N."

You shook your head, smiling shyly before turning to Harry, who was already watching you with that easy smile at the corner of his lips. You liked how his hand remained firmly on yours, making those circular movements with the thumb that always served as a natural medice for your anxiety.

"You look so fucking beautiful."

The pleated dress with flounce sleeves fit you like a glove. You had made peace with the various shades of white since the wedding and knew that Harry liked to see you in that color too.

"Thank you, you're not too bad either, Styles."

You intimately suspected that Harry would always seem far beyond that "not bad" that came out as a euphemism from your mouth. He wore nothing but a pair of bell-bottom pants in a strong shade of blue and a soft vest printed with fluffy little sheep on a striped American collared shirt - in your opinion, no one could look better in farm animal clothing than Harry Styles and Princess Diana with her red "Black Sheep" sweater in the 1980s. In contrast, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was arrogant and knew exactly how hot he looked - you also made your thoughts clear enough when you kept him backstage beyond ten minutes in a rather heated kissing session.

"Are you anxious?" you asked curiously, remaining with downcast eyes fixed on the strokes that remained assiduous on your warm skin. "To read about how the whole internet dreams of fucking my wife?! Of course." Harry joked, leaning over to leave a small one on your cheek. "We agree on that, don't we? Although I'm a little nervous, I'm really interested to know all the crazy things they say about you. Everyone knows you're mine at the end of the day, that's enough."

At the end of the break, you and Harry made a silent agreement that you should be the first to pick up one of the scattered papers in the red pot. There were quite a significant amount of tweets, and as much as you were used to reading rather sordid things about your husband on the Internet, the excitement was there as if you were wading into uncharted territory.

"I would be a good girl all year round if Santa guaranteed me a threesome with Harry and Y/N Styles on Christmas Eve." You laughed, Harry staring at the camera with an expression close to the meme of the surprised Pikachu. "You guys are incredibly nasty, I love it."

"If that was the first one, I'm really worried about the next ones." Harry commented with a little corner smile, picking the next tweet out of the bucket. "I have an entire folder on Pinterest dedicated to Harry Styles' hands, and let me tell you why: those hands are art, and art needs to be recognized."

"What- Guys, you promised you wouldn't post my anonymous tweets here." You quipped with false reproach, laughing at your own stupid joke while everyone else in the studio did the same. "But I can't blame her, honestly." Shaking your shoulders, you opened another piece of paper. "Harry Styles finally confessed that he wrote Watermelon Sugar for Y/N!!!! Are you guys imagining the same thing as me?!!!!!! 🥵🍆💦"

"Exhausted emoji, eggplant emoji, and water emoji?" Harry frowned, staring at the tweet you held up. "I imagine you're in need of a vacation somewhere refreshing and you're craving a fruit that everyone eats like it's really a vegetable."

"That reminded me of that story-" You laughed, hiding your face on the table as Harry continued to offer a poker face to the camera, struggling not to keep up with you laughter. "I'm sorry, lovie, I have to share this with the rest of the world." You stated, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eyes. "Harry always wears those fancy suits to concerts, right?! Right! Turns out he looks really hot in some, like his ass molds perfectly into those tight pants and everything. I was home that night because I wasn't feeling well enough to face the big crowds, but I was still following everything on twitter. It was a concert in London, not so far from where we lived at the time, so it was obvious that he would come home after it was over. I follow some portals that do really fast updates of pictures, videos, etc; everything that happened at Harry's concert was on my timeline in a matter of seconds. When one of these profiles uploaded a picture of him with his back to the camera in a heavily accentuated black and white suit, I quickly sent him the image along with a peach emoji and then wrote "looks good tonight". He didn't reply to me until a few hours later, of course, but I obviously didn't expect a "ready for a Fifth Avenue peach salad for dinner?" and numerous cutlery emojis."

Harry rolled his eyes comically, indulging in laughter as did everyone else who occupied the backstage area.

"I'm against the eroticization of emojis." He said between uncompensated breaths, shaking his head negatively. "Let's go to the next ones, please, I'm already feeling exposed enough here."

"I like your old-fashioned spirit, baby." You assured him with a smile, laying on the sturdy shoulder hidden under the fluffy fabric.

Harry chuckled low, leaving a little kiss on the top of your head before selecting the next paper. The fans would die when that video aired, everyone was sure. You two easily forgot the cameras when you were side by side, and the public display of affection had never been a problem.

"My life mission is to look at someone the way Harry looks at Y/N and be reciprocated the way Y/N looks at Harry, then I could die happy." Harry read. "That was very good and healthy, thank you!" He smiled. "But don't settle for death in that case, please. Just make sure to keep that person around forever."

"Awn, we got so sweet now." You made a pout. "Thank you for sending us something so cute! I really hope you find the right person soon." Sending a kiss to the camera, you moved on to the next tweet. "I wouldn't want to get a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka's factory, I would like to get a golden ticket to actively participate in Y/N and Harry Styles' Honeymoon.

"That was creative, so I will disregard the fact that you removed my last name from my wife's name." Harry joked.

"I will always be an Y/L/N." You flashed the tongue. "We had a great Honeymoon, but I know you guys already know all about it because there are pictures all over the internet of outings that I don't even remember existed."

"Even though we chose a rather reserved city, many paparazzi still managed to photograph some of our nights there." Harry agreed. "There was one particular day when we opted to have dinner at a restaurant near the beach. Y/N had found it even before the trip, it was pretty laid back and we could spend the evening at karaoke. I don't really remember what happened, but we woke up the next day with a terrible hangover, still wearing the clothes from the dinner and with several headlines saying that I was cheating on my wife in the middle of our Honeymoon with a blue-haired italian girl."

"That wig made me sexy, man." You blinked, laughing as you remembered the situation. "It's a shame the paparazzi only got low quality images, but I swear I looked really amazing that night. Italy, I miss you."

"We're coming to the end and I haven't had to ask production for a glass of water yet, thank you to whoever selected these tweets." Harry raised his thumb to the camera, smiling before turning his gaze back to the small paper he had chosen. "Y/N could literally punch me in the face and I would just bow down and thank them for it." He laughed. "She has heavy hands, so I would rethink that choice."

"It takes strong hands to be a superheroine." You blinked gracefully, referring to your works as a Marvel actress. "I move around a lot during the night, so I'll take this lovely opportunity to say that twitter can dismiss all the malicious theories about Harry always show up with a new bruise all over his body."

"Please stop making indecent assumptions while Y/N is aggressive with me at night only unconsciously, her father has access to social media."

You laughed, clearing your throat before reading the next obscenity aloud.

"I would sell all my possessions to have Y/N sitting on my lap for ten seconds."

"Oh my God." Harry laughed out loud, throwing his head back. "I should have said that in our wedding vows."

You shook your head, laughing low as you set the tweet aside.

"That was pretty funny and cheeky, I approve."

"Okay, looks like we finally got to the last one." Harry announced, waving the paper in the air dramatically before opening it. "Harry could literally crush me with those boots while fuc- I need that glass of water." He said dumbfounded, hiding his face between his hands after throwing the tweet over his shoulder. You laughed out loud next to the organizers, and meanwhile Harry leaned his head on your bust, staring at you still with wide eyes. "Please promise that we will be careful with our future children on the internet."

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry imagine

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falloutsketchysecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

Shh... It's time for...

! SKETCHY SECRET SANTA ! [ FAQ ]

HEY THERE, WASTELANDERS!

Welp, I told you. I told you that if the event went well last year, we'd be back again this year-- and we are! :D

Friends and followers, The Artists of the Apocalypse are proud to present the second annual Sketchy Secret Santa!

Thank you so much for joining us this holiday season, and I hope this post finds you well. For the folks who have NO IDEA what is going on, I'll give you the cliff-notes. This is a Fallout Community Event! If you're a fan of the Fallout games, you're welcome here, as well as at our home blog @artistsoftheapocalypse :D

Participants in this event can send a request to our art team according to the guidelines underneath that read-more down below. This request will be for the art team to make a gift for ANOTHER PERSON of the Participant's choosing, which will be delivered anonymously on January 1st. The person getting the gift will be given no indication who requested it for them.

Sound like your kind of holiday mischief? Then follow us beyond the cut to find out how it's all gonna work!

So! You'd like to request a gift for a friend of yours this December? AWESOME!

This event has a few different ways to participate, so please take your time reading this post. If you have questions at the end, that's okay! Feel free to send us an ask with what points you'd like clarified, but double check to make sure that information wasn't already here for you to read.

There are TWO ways to request this year!

1 -- The Sketchy Secret Santa Holiday Prompt, which is full detailed below.

2 -- Request a Fic Illustration!

A FIC ILLUSTRATION?

Yep! If you have a beloved fanfiction in the Fallout fandom, and there's a scene they wrote SO WELL you can PICTURE IT and IT'S AWESOME and you already sent a comment, but MAN you wish you could DRAW???

Well, let's help out with that ;3

TO SEND A VALID FIC ILLUSTRATION REQUEST TO SKETCHY SECRET SANTA, PLEASE SEND AN ASK TO @falloutsketchysecretsanta CONTAINING THE FOLLOWING:

WHOM the request is for ---- If they're on Tumblr, please give us the @ handle for their main blog if you know it. Sideblogs appear to be MUCH more likely to glitch out when @ tagging recipients at the end of the event. ---- If they're not on Tumblr, please tell us where else we can find and contact them, so we can tell them they have a goodie waiting in January!

The FIC and CHAPTER the request is to be drawn from [ Bonus points if you can tell us which PARAGRAPHS you're after up front by counting from the top of the chapter and giving each one a number ] ---- Direct links are preferable. ---- Are there OCs in this scene? Please be prepared to provide reference material for any non-canon characters that aren't described in the target passage. ---- Was context laid out in an earlier or later scene that we should be aware of? A detail that got mentioned early that became part of the 'backdrop', a wound a character got earlier that isn't mentioned in the narrative of the passage, some small background detail that turned out to be really important later so we better make sure we don't miss it-- we do not have time to read entire stories. Be ready to fill us in <3

That's it! Be ready for us to chat back and forth via the ask box a bit; we'll respond privately with any questions we have, and give you a final confirmation that we have everything we need to proceed :D

Don't have a fic author in your life? It's okay, we've got another way to request Fallout gifties for your friends!

OKAY, LET'S TAKE A LOOK AT THE SKETCHY SECRET SANTA HOLIDAY PROMPT

This is how we did Sketchy Secret Santa last year! Using the Guidelines below, you may request up to 4 Fallout Characters and a Holiday Inspiration from the list. The Artist serving your request will take it from there, making the gift for your friend a surprise for both of you when it comes out!

TO SEND A VALID HOLIDAY PROMPT REQUEST TO SKETCHY SECRET SANTA, PLEASE SEND @falloutsketchysecretsanta AN ASK CONTAINING THE FOLLOWING:

The CHARACTER[S] you’d like sketched up ---- All characters welcome! Canon, OC’s, everyone is fair game so long as it’s Fallout! ---- MAXIMUM FOUR CHARACTERS PER REQUEST. Our artists are working on a volunteer basis, and more figures means more time. ---- Is a request intended to be shippy? Let us know! We don’t read minds. ---- Poly? Found family? Hell yes! Just make sure to let us know the relationship context for the request. All genders and sexualities welcome, so long as everyone is a consenting adult.

1 [ ONE! ] Item from the prompt list below ---- The prompt list is both to give the artists direction and to limit the scope of what can be requested, keeping things manageable. ---- The items on the prompt list can be considered INSPIRATION, and what is drawn is up to artist interpretation of that prompt. ---- Do not dictate specific poses, colors, or situations. These are freebies, not commissions. All specifics are up to the volunteer artist who takes your request. ---- Do not dictate a specific artist to fulfill your request. Artists are operating on a self-directed basis and are, again, volunteers providing freebies to spread holiday joy. If you want work from a specific artist, might I suggest checking their commission status? They're all fantastic to work with!

[ OPTIONALLY!! ] Tell us what holiday traditions the requested characters keep. ---- While there are various holidays on the prompt list, those are general AF prompts. Telling us what holidays an OC celebrates, or what holidays you / your friend HC a canon character to celebrate is additional character context and EXTREMELY ENCOURAGED, and does not replace the prompt. It’s like reference information-- telling the artist whom they’re drawing.

THE PROMPT LIST!

The following is a list of words, phrases, ideas, and memories brainstormed by our team of volunteers to give the requests direction and verity. You may pick 1 [ ONE ] per request.

Christmas

Hanukkah

Kwanza

Samhain

Keeping Old Traditions

Ghosts of Winters Past

Drifted Myths

Twisted Holiday Tales

Deck the Halls

Making Decorations

Repurposed/Reused/Recycled

Junk into Jolly

Massive Menorah

Feasting in Faith

Improvised Christmas Tree

Smaller Celebrations

Nuka Cola Christmas

Santa Spotting

Holiday Clothes

Warmth

Ugly Sweaters

Posing for Pictures

Gift Exchange

Present Scavenging

Firelight

Thawing out

Tending the Bonfire

Lights

Unexpected Kindness

Little Mercies

Rare Reunions

Community Celebration

Found Family

Oh Shit I’ve never had real friends during the holidays before

Holiday Meal

Baked Goods

Pet Pageantry

Ribbon

Potluck

Fireside Cooking

Kitchen Catastrophes

Pound Cake

Feasting Aftermath

Holiday Mischief

Brahmin Tipping

Stolen Pants

Pet Dress-up

Mistletoe Mishaps

Someone is kissing Santa

CUI [Caroling under the Influence]

Holiday drinks

Holiday drunks

Is that supposed to be glowing

Candlelight and Snow

First Snow

Noob in a Snowball Fight

Soaked Through and Freezing

Snowed in

Antlers

Pinecones

Wat is snow?

Fire and Ice

FUCK THE COLD

Ringing in the New Year

To New Beginnings

Celebratory Toast

Watching the Clock

Fireworks

Reinvention

Dawn

As always, we thank everyone who even considered participating :D

This post went live at 10:00 AM, US Pacific Time, on December 1st, 2021. REQUESTS ARE OPEN NOW!

Requests will CLOSE on December 25th, 2021, at 11:59 PM.

#Sketchy Secret Santa #Holiday Prompt #Fallout #Fallout Fandom Event #Fallout Community Event

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rinkrats · 4 years ago

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🥺 that mike lange story. But also those tags #sid loooves christmas #he loves giving presents #looks good in red #piles on the pounds fast #post hockey career as santa 😂😂👌🏽👌🏽

he loves his mementos and presents and is COMMITTED to them. scrapbooking. matching jackets. little pills with hidden motivational messages~*~ his love language is gifts and neck smooches and stalking geno. relevant right now are some anecdotes i sent a friend earlier this year for dorky sid gifts fic fodder:

1. Crosby's constant thoughtfulness would be impressive from anyone, much less someone of his stature.

"Sid always texts me happy birthday, he's always asking me like, how's Russia?" Evgeni Malkin said. "We talk and message all summer. He asks me how my skates are. He knows, like, everything. He follows my Instagram, I think (laughs)."

In addition to having a handle on those little details, Crosby is constantly providing those around him with memories and mementos. If the team is on the road and goes, say, sightseeing or to a sporting event and takes a group photo, Crosby will later send a framed copy to everyone.

When Ron Hextall and Brian Burke watched their first Penguins game in person, Crosby is the one who approached head equipment manager Dana Heinze and asked for two used game pucks to give to the new GM and president of hockey ops.

After the Penguins won in 2009, Crosby had jackets made for the three players on the team who had scored a Cup-clinching goal in Game 7: Talbot (Pittsburgh), Ruslan Fedotenko (Tampa Bay) and Mike Rupp (New Jersey).

"They were blue jackets with gold buttons, and each one had a patch on it that said 'GWG Game 7,'" Talbot said. "At one of our first team meals the next season, he presented us with the jackets and did a big ceremony with the music and stuff. We had a private room in the restaurant. I still have the jacket."

-The Consummate Teammate, Captain and Ambassador, Feb 2021

2. Merz: My first interaction with Sid was when we were on the bench, guys were talking about a teammate, and the first thing this 15-year-old says is, “Hey, guys. Let’s keep everything positive. Don’t talk about your teammates that way.”

Salcido: When we were getting ready for nationals, he found these little pills that you could put a hidden message inside. They unscrewed, and inside was a tiny scroll. He gave one to every teammate. … He had everyone fill one out. He didn’t tell anyone what to write, but he made it known that we all knew what the goal was: winning nationals. So we wrote on our scrolls, rolled them up and put them in the pill thing. We kept them with us everywhere we went.

-‘Is this real?’: Stories of Sidney Crosby’s year at a Minnesota prep school, May 2020

3. On “Butterfly Boy” Jonathan Pitre:

Though the Senators are his team, Sidney Crosby has always been Jonny’s favourite player. After the TSN documentary airs, Tina gets a call from the Penguins. Sid needs Jonny’s measurements. He wants to have a suit made for him by his personal tailor, Domenico Vacca.

“It’s the kindest, sweetest gesture,” Tina says. “Sid heard that Jonny went to a lot of games, so he wants him to look like he’s one of the guys.”

“I want him to feel like a pro,” Crosby says. “Here’s a guy who is going through something so painful, and his first thought is always, ‘How can I help others?’ When I was young, I’d watch on TV the players coming to the rink in their suits. That was a cool part of being an NHL player. I want him to feel that, to make it as real as possible for him.”

Tina tries to discreetly measure Jonny while she’s changing his dressings. But he’s way too smart for that.

“Um, Mom, why are you measuring me? Am I going for surgery again?” he asks.

“No, no!” Tina replies, trying to reassure him and come up with a good lie, all in the same breath. “The doctor needs them just to make sure they have proper dressings next time you are in.”

A few weeks later, the sharp navy blue suit shows up at their front door, along with a couple of ties, an autographed stick and a handwritten letter from Sid.

“His eyes just light up,” Tina says. “Jonny always liked to be well-dressed, and he just loves having his own suit. It fits perfectly. He looks so good in it.”

-Beauties by James Duthie (2020)

4. Pascal Dupuis inspired his Pittsburgh Penguins teammates on their run to the Stanley Cup, and Sidney Crosby found a special way of driving that message home.

Dupuis retired in December with lingering health concerns because of blood clots. Despite his NHL playing days coming to an end, the veteran forward remained an integral part of the Penguins and was in uniform to hoist the Cup after Pittsburgh's six-game win against the San Jose Sharks in the Stanley Cup Final.

On Sunday, Dupuis brought the Cup home one last time as a player to share a special day with his family, friends and hometown fans.

"Yes, it does feel bittersweet a little bit," Dupuis said. "You get the Cup, you want to celebrate. But at the same time I got a gift by the mail [Saturday]. Basically, it's a book of all the pictures of all the good stuff we went through. It came from Nova Scotia, so you guys can figure out who it came from (Crosby), but he couldn't give it to me during the season, he saw me skating a little bit.

"And he sent it [Saturday], before my day with the Cup, so he knew what he was doing to get me right here," Dupuis said, putting his fist over his heart.

-Pascal Dupuis shares Stanley Cup with family, friends, Aug 2016

5. In 2011, Crosby was out of the lineup with a concussion, and the Penguins made their annual visit to Children’s Hospital.

Crosby got along so well with one boy there and was so touched that he later asked Bullano to go back... just the two of them, no cameras, no attention.

When Bullano and Crosby met for the follow-up visit, Crosby appeared clutching a pair of Toys “R” Us bags, filled with a Transformer toy the two had discussed.

“He literally bought every type of this toy they make,” Bullano said. “[Crosby] had never seen it before and thought it was so cool.

“There are no pictures of this. There’s no video. He was laying in the bed with the kid. They were just playing. We were there for over two hours. I got to know the mom really well because we were just sitting there.

“The kid had no idea. Didn’t expect it. They had no idea he was coming. We got there and he said, ‘Hey buddy. hope you don’t mind that I came back.’ The kid couldn’t believe it.

“[Crosby’s] crazy cool about stuff like that.”

What’s crazy is trying to recount the many times stuff like this has happened with Crosby:

• The Little Penguins Learn to Play program has been around for nine seasons, outfitting now 1,200 kids with free head-to-toe hockey equipment. Not only does Crosby serve as the face of the program — which the NHL has now adopted — but he helps fund it, too.

“There’s an awareness of what a person in his position can bring,” Penguins vice president of communications Tom McMillan said. “I think he activates that as much as anybody I’ve seen during his playing career.”

• After a recent practice, Crosby noticed a local family in the Penguins dressing room, approached them, introduced himself, learned their story and wound up giving them a signed stick.

Nobody asked Crosby to do that, and he wanted zero credit when discussing it a couple days later.

“For people who have the opportunity to come in here, people dealing with certain things, if you can brighten their day a bit or spend some time with them, it’s something that’s special for all of us,” Crosby said.

• A few years ago, through a team charity event, Crosby befriended a 4-year-old Amish boy with cancer. Crosby remarked to Bullano how much he loved talking to the boy because of how engaging the boy was and how he wasn’t consumed with technology. Crosby even tried to visit the boy but learned he had passed away.

• He learns the first and last names of the kids who attend his hockey school in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

“Two kids came from Japan its first year,” Bullano recalled. “He was so blown away by that. He couldn’t wait to meet them.”

• Earlier this season, the Penguins welcomed Grant Chupinka, 24-year-old cancer patient, into the dressing room. Crosby chatted up Grant and his parents, Steve and Kim.

He spent his usual time — about two or three times the requirement. Gave the tour. Then found out the Chupinkas didn’t have tickets for that night’s game and decided he would pay for them to go.

“I’m sure he could just give them an autographed puck or something, but he takes his time to go out and see them and talk to them and get to know them,” Brian Dumoulin said. “It speaks volumes for him and who he is as a person.”

Spend any length of time with Crosby during his visits with those less fortunate, and a few things become obvious.

One, Crosby is really good at these. Smooth but not in a slimy way. Sweet. You know how when you’re around someone talking and they go out of their way to make eye contact with everyone around? That’s Crosby.

He’s also humble, always introducing himself like those he’s meeting don’t already know. Holding a hand is no issue. And Crosby is the rare 20-something pro athlete without kids who acts every bit like he does.

“It is not an easy situation to talk to someone with terminal cancer,” McMillan said. “A lot of people couldn’t do that. He has an amazing ability to do that and make that person feel good.”

Crosby has welcomed several Make-a-Wish kids and tries, if at all possible, to schedule such events for practice days — to maximize the time he’s able to spend.

He’s developed a special friendship with Patrick McIlvain, a soldier who nearly died when he took a bullet to the head in Afghanistan. McIlvain actually does physical therapy with one of Crosby’s sticks.

A former club hockey player at Cal U, McIlvain comes by every year, and the Penguins don’t even bother to tell Crosby. Either he already knows or immediately stops what he’s doing to come say hello.

“He’s not doing it to leave a legacy,” said Terry Kalna, Penguins vice president of sales and broadcasting. “His numbers leave the legacy. He’s just a down-to-Earth, good guy.”

Before a visit, Crosby has Bullano email him what is essentially a scouting report on who he’s going to meet. He likes to learn about them, their situation and what they’ve been through. As much information as he can ingest. Crosby never just swoops in, shake a hand and leave.

“As much as anyone has ever seen, he accepts the responsibilities of being not just a professional athlete but a star professional athlete,” McMillan said. “He views it as part of the job. Like coming to the morning skate. That’s just what you do.”

Put another way, “he owns those moments,” says Kalna.

Said Bullano, “He’s just a good human being.”

-When it comes to giving, Sidney Crosby does as much as he can, Feb 2017

6. When Crosby received a generous signing bonus on his Reebok deal, he wanted to share it with everyone.

“He gave everyone on the bus gifts,” says Oceanic radio commentator Michel Germain. “Him sharing his bonus with all the people he’d been travelling with for two years, that impresses me greatly. I think the most important thing about Sidney Crosby is his personality and the kind of human being he is. What he exuded. The inner richness he’d already developed.”

-Superstitious and generous, Dec 2006

7. also this simply because it makes me ;w;

Even in defeat — no, especially in defeat — Sidney Crosby proved why he wears the "C" for the Penguins.

After the game, with his heart sinking and his season over, the Penguins’ captain bent over, sank to the ice to pick up the puck, took it to linesman Tony Sericolo and then skated to his team’s handshake line.

I immediately thought of a View from Ice Level I’d written on Crosby making sure a retiring official was sent away from PPG Paints Arena properly. I knew picking up the puck wasn’t for the same reason that was, but I also knew, in some way, it was connected to Crosby’s awareness and respect of the game.

“It was for the Islanders,” Crosby told me after the game, his eyes swollen from a first round exit – by way of a sweep to make it worse. He told me how the winning team always wanted the puck, and it was his way of providing it for the Islanders.

Crosby looked me right in the eye as he told me this, just as he did with every other member of the media to come to him after the loss.

I could tell from those swollen eyes and the way he sat at his stall, by himself with his hands folded as he stared blankly, that Sidney Crosby is much more used to being on the receiving end of a puck when a series ends than he is at retrieving it for the winning team.

That scene. His swollen eyes. Staying in the locker room until most had left – talking to anyone who needed him. Most of all, though, picking up the puck that prompted my question in the first place and making sure the right people got their piece of their own history.

It all adds up to one thing: In victory and in defeat, Crosby respects the game above all else – just as he’s always done.

-Even in defeat, Crosby shines, April 2019

#anyway this was a nice walk down memory lane after the disastrous game rip #sidney crosby #pittsburgh penguins #hockey #text

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fa-by · 4 years ago

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official to get together with Ty. I mean, what?? Who does something like that if they were truly in love?// about this part technically they only became "official" publicly at that time because they never gave us an actual date as to when L and LV got together or even broke up and what makes it more confusing is that LV and L looked like they ended on good terms but then a few weeks later they unfollowed each other and LV was throwing shade at L and now they're not even friends.

Still here, not a hater nor a shipper Anon? I see that the first two times weren’t enough for you. Okay. Suit yourself.

“they never gave us an actual date as to when L and LV got together or even broke up”. Actually, we may not have specific day dates, but we do have dates to calculate everything.

As I’ve already explained, Lucy returned to Lauren’s life after she had a car accident on May 17, 2015:

“She came back into my life when I was 18. I was on tour and I was in my room in a hotel somewhere and she called me”, and, according to their narrative, Lauren decided they would be together “all in” and “now we’re gonna be in this relationship” from that moment on. The last public interaction between the two of them occurred on January 12, 2017 with that post for Lucy’s birthday (which is actually Jan 11):

And by January 21, 2017, they had already broken up since they were at the same Women’s March but with other people. While Lauren ‘was still together with’ Lucy, Ty tweeted “LMJ” on January 4, 2017:

He canceled it right away, and on February 12, 2017, Tyren made their first appearance as a ‘couple’ at the Grammys after-party (picture posted by L two days later):

If you calculate from mid-May 2015 to mid-January 2017, it’s 1 year and 8 months. And of that year and 8 months, 2 months were public due to the wedding pictures.

Lauren was already with Ty after less than a month. In fact, if you want to calculate from January 21 to February 12, it’s only 9 days. So, as you can see, we have dates on which base ourselves.

“Um let’s be realistic this literally happens all the time in real life”. Oh yeah? To who? To those who weren’t really in love and didn’t care about their exes maybe, but not to those who claimed to have been in love with their best friend since adolescence. You continue to be contradictory, Anon. Even in your own thoughts. Because if you believe in the Laucy narrative, then you’re supposed to believe that Lauren was in love with Lucy for five years (from when she was 15 to when she was 20). And if you believe that, then how can you think she fell out of love with her in less than a month? How can you think that’s realistic? Do you really give your fave so little credit? As I’ve already said, I don’t know you, so either you’ve never been in love and that’s why you think it’s realistic, or you do give Laur so little credit for real.

I’m gonna copy and paste the entire piece that you copied incompletely now: “How can you have been in love with someone for so many years, broke up with them because they were a toxic person, and immediately get together with an even more toxic person without having the proper time to heal? Without taking the time for yourself to lick your wounds, grow up, be ready again to throw yourself out there, and eventually find a better person to be in a relationship with? How? Simple. Because they were both fake relationships. The timing they wanted to tell is not credible. None of what they’ve said is believable, and luckily, there’s also enough evidence to prove it so these are not opinions and theories”.

When you love someone, Anon, when you really love someone and you’re not with them anymore, you need time. You really need some time before you can move on. Less than a month is not enough to fall out of love after 5 years and start another relationship by declaring to be in love with this other person every five seconds. I really don’t understand how you can think it’s realistic, and most of all, I really don’t understand how you don’t see it was all fake.

“and who says Ty was a toxic person cause so far L has never said anything bad about him and he treated her right from what we have seen, also the fact that their ‘split’ was peaceful so how was he toxic for her?”. So, let me get this straight. Someone who thinks that ‘the women only serve to be in the kitchen’, that ‘the lesbians only are confused girls’, that:

and that he’s:

is not a toxic person? Someone who’s been in a gang (like his brother who’s still in jail) since he was a teenage boy and has a long list of felonies on his record for infractions, assaults, and possession of various drugs, isn’t toxic? Someone who lies about his age and is disrespectful in the lyrics in his songs and when he speaks in general with phrases in which he had no respect for either women or homosexuality, is not toxic? Someone for whom it’s normal to punch and kick another celebrity in the head just because he refused to leave and free for him the VIP room of a club he was occupying, is not toxic? Someone who wanted to make a blind woman move who was sitting behind him with her guide dog, claiming to be allergic to the fur that was making him sneeze, and despite the fact that the plane staff offered him another seat in the back, which he refused because ‘he had paid extra to be in the one he was sitting in’, and the blind woman even offered him an allergy pill, he refused AGAIN with the excuse that he ‘had to perform’ a few hours later at the Escapade Music Festival (the woman obviously had priority over her seat and wasn’t moved, so they all stayed in their seats in the end), is not toxic?

Are you for real?? Do you really think Lauren could actually have been with a person like that? Someone who represented exactly what she always despised? Do you really think so low of her? You say she’s your fave, but do you know her at all? Because you’re basically insulting her as a person and her intellect. When will you learn to distinguish reality from fiction? When are you gonna open your eyes? If Lauren were to tell you that Santa’s real, then you’d believe it just because the words came out of her mouth? Come on now! Just because she was forced to say that she loved him and how a good person he was, DOESN’T MAKE IT TRUE. Not to mention that we’ve witnessed several times how uncomfortable she was when they had to look intimate for pictures:

And how inappropriate he was:

https://youtu.be/g3D_FMHy4ho

Don’t you see how she tried to move his hand and how uncomfortable she was? And these are just two examples, but there are so many of them. Wake up and learn to recognize the distinction between script-following Laur and authentic Laur. I already told you this.

No, I’m the one who’s sorry here. Because as I said, you can’t distinguish when something is fake and when it’s real. I was there. You seem to have forgotten this. I saw every post, every picture, and every live they did together. They were together. They obviously couldn’t say it because Lucy ‘was together’ with Laur, but they were together. It wasn’t a serious relationship like the one with Nicole, but they still had something. They stayed together until February and then Lucy got together with Nicole in March.

---

I hope this can also answer your ask, dear Anon 😄 and hi to you too 👋🏼

---

Back to you, not a hater nor a shipper Anon. Keep blaming CS and believing every single thing your faves say if you want, but do yourself a favor: stop trying to change someone’s mind (with empty proofs) and try to convince them to think like you. It’s useless. As I already told you in that post: “You can come back here a hundred more times, but you won’t change my mind”. Just accept it. Just accept the fact that we think differently because we believe in different things. Follow the blogs that think like you if you want, create your own blog with your own opinions or whatever, but don’t go to CS ones like mine because you wouldn’t come out as a winner, as you could see all three times. It’s one thing to go to another blog to express your opinion, and another is to go there multiple times and insist on changing their minds. Unlike you, I don’t go bothering other blogs to convince them to believe in what I believe. In fact, if that’s why, I don’t really care to change their minds precisely because, as I already told you, everyone is free to think what they want and have their own ideas. I accept the fact that not everyone thinks the same way. Embrace this idea too, trust me, you'll live better. Find your community and be happy there.

I hope I’ve been even clearer than the previous times. Take care, not a hater nor a shipper Anon, and have a good day. I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.

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miceenscene · 4 years ago

Text

'tis the damn season

frankie/reader | childhood friends to lovers | pre-canon

wc: 1.8k/2.5k

summary: At one point in your lives, you knew Frankie better than anyone else on earth. When did that change?

warnings: none

an: don't let anyone tell you that second person doesn't work from another character's perspective, least of all yourself while editing

Masterpost | ao3

Chapter 2: Who am I Related to?

December 8, 2012 18:57

Hudson’s was a shitty bar just up highway 210 outside of Fort Bragg, the nearest watering hole to the base as the crow flies.

As a result, it served pretty damn near exclusively military personnel. When it changed ownership about four years back, the new management decided to reflect that and so the place looked like the Fourth of July and Top Gun had thrown up on it. Never mind that Fort Bragg was an Army base. Still, they had cheap booze and greasy food that was far better than the commissary, so it was always busy.

Pope had texted the usual suspects a few hours ago that he was heading to Hudson’s that evening, making Frankie immediately ditch his plans of drinking alone for drinking with Pope and whoever else showed up. Most likely just Benny and Ironhead now that Redfly had semi-retired down to Florida. It was a short drive to the bar from the dorms on base, but it was enough to make Frankie groan and press hands to his lower back as he got out of his car and made his way inside.

Pope was sitting at the bar and didn’t look up from texting on his phone as Frankie gingerly eased into the stool next to him.

“Hey, Fish,” Pope said, rereading the email.

“Hey.” At the bartender’s attention, Frankie pointed to Pope’s beer before daring a slight back stretch.

Pope sent his email and then looked over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just finished PT.”

He chuckled once. “Back still fucked?”

“More tired than fucked anymore,” Frankie managed, shaking his head and wincing. The bartender delivered his beer, and Frankie took a swig. “When did we get old?”

“¿De qué estás hablando ‘nosotros’, viejo?”

Frankie jabbed an elbow and grinned slightly down at his next swig. “Culero.”

“Hey, before everyone gets here–” Pope looked at him, an oddly serious expression on his face for their usual bar. “I found out today you haven’t re-enlisted yet.”

Frankie immediately dropped his gaze to the suddenly very interesting glass in his hand. “Ah, no. No, I haven’t.”

“I’m trying to pull strings to get Benny into our unit full-time. I think he’d fit well with the team. Then Simmons tells me you haven’t signed your new papers yet. So what’s up?”

Frankie glanced over to see Pope still focused on him. “Nothing, nothing. I… I’m still thinking about it.”

He chuckled. “What’s there to think about?”

“We all want out someday, right? If we’re lucky enough to choose when we leave.”

“Yeah, but there’s thinking and thinking.” Pope smacked his shoulder. “What – are you gonna become a real estate agent like Redfly?”

No. Definitely not. Even just the idea of shilling condos was enough to make Frankie’s eyes glaze over. But still–

“Real estate agents make more money than we do.”

Pope made a considering face for a moment then brushed it off. “Yeah, but you’d miss it. You’re like me. We like the rush.”

Frankie nodded slightly. This is why he was still just thinking about it. It wasn’t a small thing to walk away from fourteen years with the Army. Especially since everyone knew the retirement benefits were absolute shit until you hit twenty. But he could already tell, he didn’t have another six years in him. He wasn’t even sure he had another deployment.

“You know the deadline’s New Year’s, right?” Pope said, cutting through his thoughts.

“Yeah, I know. I have some leave I have to take before the year’s out anyway.”

Pope nodded. “Good. Clear your head, get some perspective. See how fucking boring civvy life is, and then come back Jan 2 and join my team.”

Frankie smiled wryly; Pope always could make anything sound easy. “Something like that.”

“You have holiday plans then?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.

Frankie sucked in breath. “I guess I’ll go back to my parents’. My mom’s been wanting me to visit for a while now.”

“How long’s it been?”

“I saw them in DC last summer, but I haven’t been back home… since I joined Delta.”

“Remind me where they’re at.”

“Up north. Little town in the middle of nowhere. Still in the same house I grew up in.” He could picture the wreath on the door, the twinkling lights his dad always strung across the front fence every December. A matching set used to be hung on the fence exactly opposite across the street. Who lived there now, he wondered. Would they put the tree in the front window too?

“Soldier coming home for Christmas. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

“Fuck you,” Frankie replied as the others finally arrived.

Frankie got his answer as he ducked out the front door of his parent’s house about a week later. His breath immediately fogged as he sucked in a few calming breaths of night air, the pressure in his head slowly levelling. Out in the still darkness, the noise level coming from the living room was finally manageable. Inside, with all of his cousins and his aunts and uncles and the music and everyone talking over each other and the heater set far too high for the number of people inside– he… he just needed a break.

Seven hours was a decent stint for his first day. He’d be around longer tomorrow. Wading in. That was the key. Because he was now the kind of person that had to treat time with his family like running a marathon. Apparently.

He walked down to the twinkling front fence, making a mental note to shovel the front walk tomorrow, and stopped. The house across the street – your house, as it would forever be in his mind – was completely dark. A small sign posted in the front yard announced some sort of home refurbishment company was going to be arriving soon. No doubt they would come in, strip away wallpaper and old tile and heart to paint it all beige and granite for the quick resell.

He hadn’t had the heart to ask his mother yet how long the house hadn’t belonged to your family. No need for another reminder of how much time had passed, how much he’d missed. He had more than enough already.

The front door opened behind him, casting a temporary warm glow across the dark snow, and his dad stepped out, pipe in hand. He meandered down the front steps to join Frankie at the gate, puffing a few times before speaking.

He shook his head. “It’d break his heart to see it so empty, but I understand why she sold,” he said, looking at the forlorn house with him.

“How long ago?” Frankie asked.

“Few months. Not too long after the funeral.” Dad looked his way for a moment. “I’ll give it ten minutes before I tell your mother you left.”

“I… thanks,” he replied weakly.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be back.”

Dad nodded slowly, leaving just the pipe smoke wafting between them for a minute. “Take it slow, no need to rush.”

“Thanks.” He stepped through the gate, fishing in his pocket for his car keys.

“Francisco,” he said, making Frankie stop and look at him. “We’re glad you’re back.”

Frankie just nodded and went to his car. Even though he couldn’t bear another minute in the noisy press of his loved ones, the idea of going back to his lonely hotel room was truly abysmal. So after some finagling with the ignition, he started the engine and headed to the one bar he’d ever been to in his hometown.

There were Christmas lights in the window and a dancing Santa on the bar as Frankie walked in. Some sort of forcibly cheery holiday classic played over the speakers tucked between quirky memorabilia that hung over every square inch of wall space. And even though public smoking had been outlawed by the state well over a decade ago, cigarette stench had sunk into the very foundation of the place.

It was nothing like Frankie remembered. But it would do.

Eyes automatically sweeping across the moderately busy room for a Thursday night, he headed for a stool at the far end of the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender came by. It was just one step up from swill, but comfortably numbing in its mediocrity. He looked across the room again, checking for familiar faces this time and finding none. No surprise there. A decade was a long time, and really he hadn’t been around too much for the years before that too.

There were couples on dates here, friend groups, some sort of girls’ night happening in the corner, a few loners like him hovering at the bar. Most everyone was smiling, talking, laughing so hard their whole bodies shook. A whole world of Normal. And Frankie was a tourist.

Pope was right. He couldn’t go back to this. He couldn’t make it through one whole day with blood relatives anymore. What was he thinking? That he could just settle into a normal life like the last decade of his work was nothing? Get a 9-to-5 and a mortgage and a girl – not that he’d ever had too much luck in that department. Especially when there was one girl that eclipsed all others, and he didn’t even know her phone number any more.

The door opened, making the Santa on the bar dance, and every thought in Frankie’s head immediately stopped. His eyes drew wide as he stared, jaw barely restrained from slapping against his chest. Was it really – course it was, there wasn’t anyone else it could be. A whole century could pass, and he’d still know that face.

It was you.

Live, in the flesh you. Cheeks pinked from the wind, haloed by the street lights outside, wrapped in a truly astonishing number of woolen layers. Not a half-remembered fantasy, but Real and breathing and even more beautiful than his memory had claimed.

He watched you shake a few flurries out of your hair and stomp the excess snow off your boots, shutting the door behind you as you waved to the bartender. Your gaze swung across the bar, completely skimming past him, and landed on the girls’ night in the corner. You smiled. He stared.

You began to head over to the people you were obviously here to meet. On nothing but pure instinct, he immediately got out of his stool and followed you. Falling into step behind you, he stretched a hand forward to hook a few fingers inside your elbow.

You looked back at him, and for a heart-breaking breath there was no recognition in your eyes.

Till he gave you a half-smile and said, “Hey Bo.”

You blinked, mouth dropping open. “Frankie?” you asked.

He nodded.

Your astonishment ballooned so wide it froze your whole face solid for a moment. Then you laughed, out of far more shock than amusement, and gave him a smile all his own. “Oh my god!! You’re here!”

You immediately wrapped him in a hug. And though it took him a moment to return it, for the first time in ten whole years, he was home.

Chapter 3: Not my Homeland Anymore

taglist: @kelenloth ; @darnitdraco ; @gracie7209 ; @616wilsons ; @icanbeyourjedi ; @astroboots ;

#frankie morales #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #my writing #ttds

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