#RIP the quality ugh

[drzibs]

my favorite fae-cursed war criminals……

as cats bc i have yet to brush up on humanoid anatomy

this version has kremy’s silver eyes thats really the only difference

[ also no pigtunia bc i forgor :( ]

[gazelessmenagerie]

( every time I watch an iteration of Beauty and the Beast. i just get a massive dose in the brain for that dynamic anflkaflknasldkgjg )

( ................its so good......like a straight shot of serotonin bc that is exactly the type of thing I live for with just monstrous beings. question is... do i try to write some things or just go to bed........ in actually i mean just lay there imagining dumb sappy things bc I’m a mess like that till i pass out. )

[curechocolattymilk]

gonna be fighting for my life avoiding movie spoilers, huh

[booppooo]

what’s going on here? pt.1

*warnings: not a whole lot tbh, friends to lovers, kissing, pining, w33d, lemme know if I missed any

-

“Ugh, it tastes like hot garbage.” Ellie stuck her tongue out, a few auburn strands loosening from her tiny pony tail. She passed the joint to me.

Several sets of eyes locked onto me. I held the joint between my fingers, trying to distract myself from the curiosity piquing in Jesse and Dina. I flashed my eyes at Ellie one last time, catching her still making a sour face and sticking her tongue out like a disgusted cat. My heart made the tiniest of leaps. My trembling fingers place the end of it between my lips and inhale deeply. In hindsight it was too strong of a drag - especially for my first one - since i coughed out all the smoke foolishly. My chest ached, my throat burned, and my mouth was annoyingly dry. I turned away from my friends to hide my watery eyes, sticking my arm out behind me to hand the joint to whomever was next.

“See - tastes awful!” Ellie pointed out.

“Okay but, is it really supposed to taste good?” Dina tried to rationalize, “Every time I heard Eugene talk about it, he says, ‘Oh - this tastes good.’”

“Eugene is also half off his rocker.” Jesse quips, taking his turn at a puff. He coughs hard like me.

Half nauseous from coughing so hard, I return to my friends and recline further into the ski lodge seating, “God, we look like a bunch of amateurs.”

Dina groans, “This is our first time smoking weed.” It’s obvious she’s fed up with the collective group complaining.

I look to my right to see a dip in the red cushion. Next I hear clinking and a familiar freckled face returning with an intricate bottle and some small glasses. She sets out the glasses and adds just a splash of the amber drink, sloppily getting some on the table. “We’re not even going to get high anyway…”

“Jesus Ellie..” Jesse mumbles, still reaching for his glass, “How did you get this?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets.” We all raise our glasses and choke down the whiskey.

Within the next handful of minutes, there’s a record playing and every object my eyes came across had a mild swirl to them. Ellie’s arm was draped over my shoulders and holding me close as we chanted along to the song we somehow still know (muscle memory?), my hand lazily on her frail hip. With hot cheeks and ears my night continued on with my closest friends, singing songs and slurring empty sentences. Delightfully, this wouldn’t be the last.

-

“That doesn’t taste too bad.” Ellie mentions, her chest puffed up from holding the smoke in her lungs, then letting it slowly slip out through her pursed lips. Internally I laugh - I can’t help but feel seventeen every time we smoke together and she mentions the quality of the weed to some degree. I wonder if she will ever think it tastes like ‘hot garbage’ again. The bong is in my palms now. Music is already playing and Dina is shuffling cards.

I’ve never been able to shake the habit of coughing from my first hit, but I’ve been able to control it so I don’t sound like a lung and a half are coming up on my shirt. Just like routine, next is Jesse. Dina is now caressing the small of his back, watching as he takes a rip and continuing to pass it along. My eyes find Ellie, as per usual.

Emerald is already studying my figure. Her ankle is crossed over her knee, cards fumbling in her bony fingers. She’s worn her hair down today, some of it curled around her ear and brushing the collar of her graphic band tee. When our widening pupils lock, she wets her lips - on cue like this simple gesture triggers a Pavlov response. My knee begins to bounce and brush against her leg…yet, she shuffles closer.

Only to grab the bong from Dina of course. I had to remind myself my imagination likes to get extravagant anytime weed is involved. The entire time she takes her rip, I watch with intention. Is there a warmth crawling up my neck? “Here-“ her voice pulls me from the clouds.

I turn to face her, taking the bong from her grasp, “Let me pull for you,” she offers. To anyone else this seems sweet, but I know the mischievous curl at the corner of her dopey lips.

“Yeah - so I can take the biggest bong rip in the world and die?”

“You’re so smart.”

My sarcastic chuckle comes across more nervous, but I oblige nonetheless. As the flame from the lighter reaches the weed and creates orange embers, I begin to inhale softly. There’s a milkiness forming below my lips, and at this point I’d wrap it all up, but Ellie is teasing when she’s going to pull out the piece. I furrow my brows at her seeing as that is all the further I can communicate with her, and she gives in with an anticipatory laugh. Most of the smoke disappears into my lungs, and I feel it sting instantaneously.

“Shotgun shotgun!” Dina chants.

I already had a mild high buzzing my body, but Ellie’s beyond friendly proximity with her half lidded eyes and parted lips basically on top of mine sobered me up quick. Leaning in just a few more scandalous inches, I blew some smoke into her lips before having to quickly turn and hack up the rest of it. If I wasn’t having a flashback to my first time smoking - I was certainly now. The only new element was the high. It hit me hard and fast, I was forced back into Ellie’s futon, my head falling against her shoulder by chance.

“Hey, you okay?” Her red rimmed eyes observing me with concern.

“More than…” I grinned uncontrollably, “Just a little light headed from coughing.” I tried to quickly cover my tracks, straightening my spine.

With that we (tried) to begin a game of rummy, my mind in six different places and mostly unconcerned with winning or losing. Most of my attention couldn’t be pulled away from Ellie’s palm conveniently falling to my bouncing leg every time her turn was up. I was already fried, but her mindless - and surely friendly - gesture seared what was left of my braincells. To keep me slightly presentable, I tried to focus on the music humming somewhere in the room. Ellie’s music of course. It only took two rounds for the group to collectively call it quits and just chat. A sense of relief gripped me, but on the next beat was released when I noticed Ellie’s gaze fixating on me. Was I greening out or was she watching my lips?

“Oooh…” Jesse hummed, beginning a thought, “I have jerky back at my place, I think I’m gonna grab it - I’ll be back.” Like clockwork, Dina was hopping up and slipping out the door with him.

“Be right back!” She cheered, securing the latch behind her.

My head lulled back to the girl seated beside me, my eyes just open enough to drag over her features and notice the allure that they carried. The squeeze on my thigh made me bite back my gasp, bottom lip pinched between my teeth.

I hesitated to speak, “Hey man…” was there even a starting point with the conversation I wanted to have? Was there even a conversation?

“Okay listen, I just want to throw something out there, and if you’re not interested you just let me know.” She blinked slowly, letting me know I wasn’t the only one embarrassingly high, “I think we should fuck.”

I choked, back tightening and eyes bulging from my skull. My body began to create some orange embers of it’s own in my chest; relief? No, shock? No.

“Oh shit…” Regret was heavy in Ellie’s raspy voice.

I waved my hand reassuringly, “No! You were just very blunt-“

“Blunt? I can’t smoke anymore.”

I rolled my eyes at her sly grin. Even toasted she was cracking jokes. Despite the ridiculousness of it all, the longing glances and lingering touches finally had an answer, and at the end of that tunnel was a possible orgasm. Not to mention the fact that I had always thought Ellie was insanely too hot for her own good. Without much more thought, I quickly leaned in and had my lips smashed against hers.

[miam0re]

A Rich Man's Slut | Pantalone, Childe, Al Haitham, Ayato

Warning: Pantalone- name calling(slut), clothes ripping; Childe- name calling(whore), collaring, slight choking; Haitham- car sex, fingering, public sex, exhibitionism if you squint; Ayato- food??play (wine), nipple play. more stuff I probably missed

Pairing: Pantalone, Childe, Al Haitham, Ayato X Fem!Reader (separate)

Summary: He's a rich man and you're his sweet little girlfriend for him to use as he pleases

Mia's Notes: I wanna be a rich man's slut smh. Also the grammar and tenses are messed up so lol sorry bout that

Being the businessman he is, you’d think he’d have some care for the thousands of dollars he spends on things he likes. Things such as his sweet little darling, buying her all the prettiest dresses to wear to gatherings. You’re a trophy for your lover to flaunt and he doesn’t hold back in decorating you with the finest silk and velvet cocktail dresses. But he’s so careless, oh so careless. 

“Hah! Pantalone! No!” You squeal when his hands scrunch the back of your blue satin dress with an animalistic grip. The fabric rips to shreds and loosened from your shoulder, revealing your skin to the chilling air. “That was one of my… nghhh… my favourite dresses.” Your face burns red, body grinding on his cock as it claimed your plush cunt. 

He rolls his eyes and seizes the cleavage of your gown, splitting the dress from the front. Your lace-clad breasts waited for his bites and hickies, acts of when he lost his composure because of the intoxicating feeling your pussy provided him. The lace panties you wore were pushed aside to make space for his dick to impale your struggling cunt.

“Ugh, my dress.” You pout and whimper as his mouth suckled your skin. His lithe fingers danced over your breasts and neck, applying the tiniest pressure to remind you of the punishments brats get before he parted your soft lips with his thumb. 

He slid a thin plastic card into your mouth, making you bite on the edge of his platinum debit card. You make a move to pull it out, but a sharp thrust rubbing against your clit made your jaw clench with a muffled cry. 

“I bought one, I can buy a thousand, and it’s my choice if I want to see the dress on you or on the floor. Now be a good little slut and try to not bite my card too hard if you want to purchase more clothes of your liking.”

He’s got the money. He knows it and he makes sure everyone else knows it too. He’s driving the best cards, he’s living in the best penthouse in the city. And he has the best little girlfriend whose the perfect little whore for him. And what better way to show off his relationship with you than to adorn your neck with the most expensive jewellery money could buy. 

In the privacy of your chambers, he’ll have you strip bare without a single touch to your burning skin. Your clothes are falling one at a time, leaving you in nothing but your diamond collar reflecting the dim red lights in the room. And that’s when you see a feral side of Childe. 

“Sir! P-please!” Your mind is fogging, words garbling out your lips into the pillows your face was shoved into as Tartaglia ploughed into your pussy from behind, smacking his balls against your thigh with every plunge of his hips into yours. “Babe, I can barely make out a word you’re saying.” He laughed, skimming his fingers up your shaking spine, curling his pointed finger around your collar and pulling, bringing you up with his actions. 

There was no doubt about the high quality collar, it was able to withstand the kinky nights you shared with your lover. He tugged and pulled until you were on your knees, your back flush against his chest with his dick twitching and hitting a new angle inside you, you could see a visible protrusion on your tummy. The way you gagged and lolled your tongue out at the pressure of the collar on your neck, Childe could have burst and cummed then and there, seeing your hazy eyes begging him to support your weight.

“Are you such a whore that you’d like the way I choke you with this collar and use you as I please? You’re so adorable. Only a whore like you is fit to wear this collar. A diamond collar for my gem of a girl."

He’s always getting invited to some or the other event, being the hotshot of the Akademiya. Everyone knows him for the academic breakthroughs he has made, for the amount of money he’s earned, and for the eye catching girlfriend who accompanies him to all the events. No exaggeration that he drags you to all the boring ‘parties’, but he always makes up for it.

His fingers are squelching so loudly, you’re embarrassed. But he lust flooding your veins overpowers every rational thought in you head. Your sitting on his lap, dress hiked up to your waist and legs spread for him to touch and prod at your sensitive hole. Your head hangs back against his shoulder, mouth agape with silent gasps being the only sounds, apart from the sucking of his lips on your neck as the sloppy sounds of Haitham finding your g-spot.

The car hits a speed breaker, making you bounce and his fingers slip out your cunt. Haitham grumbles under his breath before pinching you clit and inserting two fingers back into your hot sex. Your slick is dripping down his knuckles, soaking the cuffs of his shirt, and whatever part of your juices that dripped down were smeared across the sleek leather seats. “Haitham…slow…” you panted at how his speed increased when the car turned a corner, not too far from your destination. “Shhh, you’re doing so well. Think I can make you cum before we reach?” He hummed, knowing full well that he was capable of making your orgasm at command. 

You clawed the leather seats, squeezing your legs tight as Haitham dragged his fingers into the deepest part of your cunt, making you see stars and cum all over his lap, making a mess of his fingers as he continued his thrusting till you calmed from your high. 

Leaving the car to head to the party after your little, episode, he handed the driver a generous roll of cash.

“Hopefully this can pay for car wash services. And your silence.”

A fine man with fine taste. Be it in the ages old wine he drinks or the company he keeps. And in the moments he shares with you, why not have fine wine with fine company? Only, he never really is in need of wine glasses when he’s with you.

“Stay still, Dearest. This wine costs a fortune, wouldn’t want to waste a single drop, now would we?” His giggles are light, hinted with the slightest bit of intoxication from the sips of wine he’s been taking. You shiver when the cold liquid pours into your navel, Ayato’s thirst mouth latching to your naked skin and slurping the liquid with loud gulps. He doesn’t stop licking and biting your skin, even when he’s cleaned the wine off your body; he can’t help but stay for the flavour of you. 

He’s finding it hard to hold back much, deciding to grab your chin and pry your mouth open and pour a small amount of the bitter liquid right on your tongue, ordering you to hold it in your mouth. His cheeks are dusted pink as he sits back and calls you on his lap, asking you to give him the wine. Directly. 

Unable to disobey, you climb on his lap and tilt his head up, connecting your lips and pouring the cool liquid into his mouth through the steamy kiss. Stray drops of wine trickle down his chin, his Adams apple and slowing on his chest. He can feel how messy you’re being, shaking so much that the wine escaped the kiss, so he squeezed your nipples between his fingers in warning. Once he was satisfied with the taste of the wine (and of you) he pulled away, looking down at the mess on his chest. He sighed with mock disappointment, fingers still firmly grasping your sensitive breasts. 

“Look at the mess you’ve made. Didn’t I tell you the worth of this wine? You should clean it up, or is some punishment required?”

tagging: @aijlin

[heartsoji]

LOVE LANGUAGES

starring the bllk boys!

featuring kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, and bachira meguru

a/n: sigh some easy headcanons bc i simply cannot write anymore

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

acts of service!

pls acts of service just screams him

hes your hero, after all! hes at your service

you're hungry? here, have some of his food!

on your period? chocolate and midol for you!

cant go to sleep? he has a bottle of melatonin and huge, snuggly arms

he will literally do anything you ask

he's def an 'actions speak louder than words' typa guy so he feels that when he does something for you, its proof of his love

ALSO something that i was thinking ab was yk how kunigami is ripped

if ur feet were tired, he'd carry you on his back with ease

'are you sure im not too heavy?' *looks back at you with disappointment and betrayal* 'hell no."

hes a sweetie

CHIGIRI HYOMA

words of affirmation!

hes a rizzler, ok

he says cheesey things with the same composure he'd have if he was taking a nice stroll in the park

"the stars, the sun, the moon. they're supposed to shine bright, but they pale in comparison to you" with a calm, soothing smile

also CHIGIRIS VOICE

ITS SO HOT

HE HAS THIS LIKE SILKY SMOOTH, SUPER PRETTY, FLOWY, SOOTHING, SEXY VOICE OK

AND HE JUST LIKE SAYS THESE SUPER ROMANTIC THINGS WITH THIS SUPER HOT VOICE AND ITS JUST <3

ok sorry

he also provides really good comfort!

if you're crying from a rough day, he's there with you, rubbing your back, whispering sweet things into your ear

"it's ok, love. i know it feels like the end of the world now, but it was etc etc" WITH HIS SILKY SMOOTH VOICE UGH

HES SO PERFECT

AND GOING BACK TO HIS RIZZ

HE LIKE

DOES THIS

THING

I

AKJASJKSD

ok i hc that after he gives you those cheesy poetic compliments, he makes you look him in the eyes and just lets you melt into putty in his arms

hes just so

yes

(can u tell i love chigiri)

BACHIRA MEGURU

quality time + physical touch!

he love love loves spending time w/ you

he plans the most fun dates ever and he always makes sure you have a great time

picnic dates, arcade dates, amusement park dates, you get it

hes just so thoughtful and his laughter is literally contagious

hes one of the guys who will be happy just by being with you (and his happiness is contagious so youre happy too)

also hes super touchy

big fan of back hugs. you'll be standing there when you suddenly feel him ram into you, arms circling around your waist

a big cuddler also

i could def see him being either a little or big spoon tbh

he just loves being close to you

sometimes you'l be laying in bed when you hear a "YAHOOO" (like mario) and suddenly hes ramming down on top of you as you let out a loud, "OW"

he has the tightest hugs ever

just grabs you and squeezes you and spins you around

also loves dancing with you

he'll put on some fun music and he just spins you around and laughs and has fun

pls hes so cute i love him

heartsoji 𑁍 please do not steal, plagiarize, or repost onto any platform. thank you!

[blu3cl0v3rs]

Summary: Morro and Wu fly back home.

Warnings: Sobbing, unreliable narrator(?)

Prompt: Fly | "Time to go home"

Extra: Generic "what if Morro lived in the season 5 finale" AU. This oneshot is Morro and Wu's flight back to the Bounty, so they finally talk about their feelings. I hope you enjoy this!

"You can only save those who want to be saved. Goodbye, Sensei," Morro said with a bittersweet smile.

"Ugh!"—he shoved the Realm Crystal, the thing he worked so hard for, into his mentor's hands.

Then he let go.

He felt himself sinking, being dragged down to his watery death by her.

He heard the water lapping below him, threatening to swallow him whole, to consume him, to dissolve his ghostly body into nothing.

Until he heard a fleshy ripping noise. The muffled sound of The Preeminent screaming echoed from beneath him, and suddenly he wasn't sinking. He wasn't being held in a deathly grasp by his mistress. He wasn't being condemned to his oceanic end.

No, instead he sat atop an off-white scaly beast, with the sound of wings flapping in his spectral ears.

"Maybe you don't want to be saved, but this is not where your story ends, Morro," a voice, Wu's voice, uttered from behind. Morro whipped around, and there he was.

His sensei. His teacher. He… saved Morro.

"…why?"

"I should have stopped you from leaving the first time. I will not watch you leave again."

Oh.

Morro did not need to breathe. Ghosts do not have the ability to breathe.

So why did his throat hurt, like he's gasping for air while being choked?

Why did his eyes sting from tears his ghostly body cannot make?

Why did it hurt just a little bit more when Wu, his sensei, his father, hugged him despite Morro not being able to feel it?

Why did he feel the urge to wail, like a little child? Like he did when Mama didn't come back.

Muddled sounds of flapping wings and rushing winds broke him from his thoughts. Wu's dragon was soaring through the open sky, clouds distant and seemingly untouchable.

"You seem calmer now, my son."

Morro realized he was leaning against his master, and jerkily moved away. Wu shifted the reins in his hands.

Wait- "The Realm Crystal! Where is it?" Morro panicked. Did he knock it out of his hands? Oh The Preeminent was gonna-

Oh right. The Preeminent did try to kill him.

"It is safe. I dropped it off with the Ninja, so they could bring back Lloyd."

The wind elemental sighed in relief.

"I can't stay with you," Morro blurted.

"I don't see why you can't," Wu responded, his voice dripping in apathy.

"I- wha- I am a horrible person! I just tried to curse this realm! I-I possessed Lloyd, I tried to kill your Ninja, I have no redeeming qualities, I don't-..." he exhaled frustratedly, "I don't deserve your pity. I don't deserve this."

A beat of silence. Morro looked off in the endless blue of the sky.

"Well that's not right."

Morro was baffled. His sensei had obviously gone mad.

"Morro, you are my son. Adopted or not, you deserve my love, and I have failed you."

"You never failed me, I failed you. I should've lived up to your expectations-"

"But I did." Wu tilted his head back, as if the sky would tell him what to say next. "You don't need to be the best, you never did. I would've loved you either way, Morro. You're my son, you always will be. I should've made that clear. You do not need to be anyone or anything other than yourself for me to love you."

The feeling came back. Morro felt his lip quiver as he poorly restrained his feelings. He said nothing.

"I-I… I just wanted you to… be proud of me." His throat tightened more. "I thought that… if I was as great as you saw me, you would."

"And I should've shown I was. I was always proud of you, my son."

"...even now? I tried to ruin everything."

"Even now. Although I am quite disappointed you have used your training to destroy instead of protect, you are my son. And, I know you can do better."

Morro buried himself back into his father's shoulder. He sobbed, although tearless, as his father, his father, silently comforted him.

"Time to go home."

[scintillyyy]

mrs. mac fanon vs. canon (only because i do think she has a specific fanon within the drake fanon mythos lmao). ETA: now with fixed photos lmao

fanon!mrs. mac

is usually employed by the drakes during tim's childhood

only works about 3 days a week. cleans the house and makes dinner.

is seen as only an employee by jack and janet, and is often thought of with derision as she is only the help and therefore replaceable if she messes up. threat of firing at all times.

sometimes is a huge gossip, sometimes is perceived as very cold by tim (but secretly loves him). regardless she thinks tim is a sweet boy who doesn't deserve to be treated by his parents the way he is but is too afraid to lose her job to do or say anything about it. (or is completely unaware of his treatment)

is not tim's nanny, but after the age of 5 is considered enough help to watch and check in on tim so the drakes don't have to pay a nanny anymore.

canon!mrs. mac (under the cut and image heavy)

is a glorious crotchety old irish housekeeper.

alright, so she was most likely hired after tim and jack move into drake manor following janet's death and jack's coma, and therefore wouldn't have even known janet (but she would have liked janet the best #rip). this isn't explicitly said, but she doesn't show up until the robin iii miniseries: cry of the huntress and it makes the most sense. jack, in a wheelchair, needs more help around the large, new house they bought. it wouldn't have really made sense for jack and janet to have had a dedicated housekeeper prior to this as they had a tendency to move from apartment to apartment and were gone a lot on business, tim was in boarding school. they probably wouldn't have had a need for a dedicated housekeeper without a dedicated home. also, in the secret origins 80 page giant tim remembers his mom setting the table, indicating that they probably just cooked and cleaned for themselves when they were home with tim.

she is a live-in housekeeper. she makes breakfast, lunch, dinner, does laundry, and cleans. she's given time off to do what she enjoys with jack's blessing and basically no complaints from him as seen in detective comics #665 when she goes to the movies and gotham knights #14 when jack mentions her night off

after jack gets kidnapped again, she's shown to be a bit surprised that he would leave without telling her (they lie to her that he's at a health resort) in detective comics #666 (they also forgot she went to the movies lol)

she's shown to be a bit talkative and fairly comfortable around her employers. in detective comics #668 she chatters away while doing her job. tim is also shown to know her fairly well and is clearly comfortable enough with her to tease her considering he says "tom brokaw on vacation again?" (tom brokaw was an anchor on nbc nightly news at the time and she probably thought he was handsome or something i assume). she's also comfortable nagging tim "you shouldn't drive until your dad gets home" "we don't even have a car!".

from the start her main character trait is that she's presented as judgmental. in robin iii #3 she derisively refers to teenagers who go to public school as animals, seeing as she thinks that tim got beat up at school. clearly there's a bit of snobbery on her end about the quality of kids who go to public school.

this judgmentalness tends to focus in on tim (though jack gets it as well!) because mrs. mac is very much a...."youths these days ugh" "the world today ugh" kind of person. in robin 7, she gets upset at the perceived disrespect she feels from tim and gets very huffy about tim's behavior. she's also one for petty revenge for this behavior --which tim is clearly aware of ("a week of cold breakfasts")

robin #21 is where we get her judgment about ~premarital sex~ not just with tim, but also with jack and dana. she's clearly very unhappy that they spent the night together, blatantly side-eying her employer. and jack isn't upset at all by this treatment by her--if anything he's sheepish and like a kid with their hand caught in the candy jar. like he could get stern with his employee for commenting on his personally choices but jack basically takes the "whoops, sorry, mom" approach. (she also most likely gives dana the stink-eye for at least two weeks after this, i'm sorry, i don't make the rules. she probably always judges dana for this, just a little bit.)

she is shown to be very worried about tim when he goes MIA during contagion (because he has the clench) in robin #28, so clearly she is very, very fond of tim

but at the same time, in accordance with her ~kids these days, in my day they never~ she's often shown as thinking jack is almost too *soft* on tim. clearly, she thinks that teens need a firm hand of discipline (robin #45)

but despite her feeling like tim is undisciplined and disrespectful, she cares about him a lot (soft heart under a stern visage). in robin #47 she's shown to be making tim's favorite meal to try and get him to eat, even though he's grounded, because he's been listless and depressed since being unable to save a classmate. and in robin #49 after tim runs away she shows genuine regret that she "was so hard on him". and this also is a good glimmer into how her and jack--she's clearly very comfortable dispensing advice and comfort to her employer. jack continues to be very respectful of her and thanks her and confides in her. they have a very warm and close employer-employee relationship.

robin #60 shows us that her love language is chiding people and she continues to be very "tsk, tsk in my day". also i do feel like this confirms that she could solo the joker, but dc was too cowardly to show us how powerful she is.

when they move to keystone in robin #62, they teasingly joke about her, but clearly in a very fond and lighthearted way, showing that jack and tim genuinely like her (also, dana got a raise moving to an inpatient rehab facility? lol. ok.). and when then move back in robin #66, jack is too scared to talk to her and makes dana do it. and mrs. mac is implied to cuss them out. clearly the woman has no fear of being fired for insubordination or anything. and jack thinks it's more funny than anything.

when jack loses the company and goes "broke", they finally have to let her go in robin #100. and this devastates the drakes, jack included. jack is very agreeable to giving her a bunch of money from selling tim's car as severance and gives her a big old hug when she has leave, showing how much he probably grew to care about her over her years of service. and she's sad to leave the drakes too, showing how fond she is of all of them.

so mrs. mac, despite being such a minor character, actually has a pretty consistent characterization and very unique relationship with the drakes during her tenure. she's judgmental, but loves all the drakes dearly. she's a bit grouchy and set in her ways and thinks that kids these days are ridiculous. she has a very positive impression of jack, but honestly thinks he's too soft on tim if anything. and the drakes in turn are clearly extremely fond of her. she came into the family at a very sensitive time (jack's paralysis and the recent loss of janet) and is probably very protective of them as a result. she's their employee, but the lines are blurred and she's also somewhat family at the same time. she has no fear of losing her job. she could make the joker quiver in fear. she's old and set in her ways and i love her.

[postmodernbeliever]

Thoroughfare- Fox Mulder x Female Reader

Chapter Two: Piglet Takes A Plane

^^ rip the gif quality ugh LOL

table of contents <3

if you’d prefer my ao3 | word count: 2,575

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You were not well-acclimated to flying. You’d gone on one trip in your life by plane, and it was from Massachusetts to Disney World; you were five, and your father held your hand the whole ride, and you had not a worry in the world. But now you’re older, bigger, and positively terrified of all the possibilities. Even in taking this job with the FBI, you somehow failed to consider the chance you’d need to travel. All that time spent working in New York got you used to staying in one place because God knows there’s enough crime up there to keep you stationed at home. But now, you need to fly halfway across the country just to start your job. You were a nervous wreck; Fox could see that by how you sat hunched over in your seat, flipping through your copy of the case files like a fugitive, jumping at the fuzzy announcements every time they reminded the gate-goers of their departure times. 

“Not a frequent flier, huh?”

“No.” 

“Come on, it’ll be fine. I fly all the time, I’m a pro, I’ve got all the tips,” the man attempted to comfort you, but it came out more like teasing. He shifted gears with, “Did you know that you’d have to fly every single day for nearly 10,000 years to get in a plane crash? The likelihood of you dying in a plain old car accident is way higher than the plane going down.”

You frowned in aggravation and grumbled, “Not helping.”

“What will help, then?”

The attendant interjected, her grating voice in the PA system blaring the worst news: “Flight 128, Dulles to Kansas City, will begin boarding now. Groups one and two, please make your way to the gate.”

Fox stood up and took your bag for you, chuckling to himself. When he caught a glimpse of the color leaving your face, he said, “Oh, come on, Piglet, the plane won’t go down! You’re gonna be okay, promise.”

You followed the man towards the front of the gate, where a line of people itching to board stood. The odd nickname rang in your ears like an alarm, panicking you along with the feeling jolting through your arms; you wanted to say something, but the anxiety paralyzing your limbs was much more pressing than your objection. Ignoring the urge, you stood behind Fox so you could watch how he got through- the attendant took his boarding pass, scanned it, and checked his passport photo. He smiled charmingly at the woman, whose eyelashes fluttered as she passed his papers back. Then, he walked through the little turnstile and stood on the other side, giving you an encouraging nod. He mouthed to you: Relax. 

You attempted to mirror the ease with which he went about passing through, but as you flashed the lady a nervous grin, you fumbled the things in your hands and dropped your passport. You bent down to grab it and bumped into the man behind you on the way back up. You muttered an apology, and he simply huffed in response.

The attendant stared at your passport photo, which you knew was nearly expired, and she said, “Changed your hair?”

Mortified- and slightly pissed off by her tone- you responded, “Seven years ago.”

She passed your belongings back and you walked through the checkpoint to Fox, but not without bumping into the bars before she unlocked them, yet again making yourself look like an idiot in front of the line. Your partner was biting back the most innocent laugh when you finally passed through. He’d never tell you, but he admired the way your face did the talking- all it took was one look to know how you felt about that woman, and the sheepish color in your cheeks was endearing. You tried to take your duffle from him, but he swung it away and clicked his tongue, so instead you walked onto the jet bridge, and he followed. Every few seconds you looked back to find he was still there, and each time his kind eyes put you at ease. You let out a heavy breath as you reached the plane door., where you were greeted by two flight attendants who looked at your boarding pass and pointed you in the proper direction. You made sure your partner was right behind you and tried not to giggle at the way he had to hunch. You knew he was tall, but inside a plane, he almost towered… or maybe you just thought he did, since you felt relatively small all morning. Attentively, you followed the aisle numbers just above your head down the line until you reached the middle of the cabin. Row 29, you thought to yourself, this is it. You scooted into the window seat and watched Fox push both yours and his luggage into the overhead compartment. You would’ve never imagined he was strong, given the pleasing lankiness of his body, but he didn’t lug or haul- he simply lifted. You turned your attention to the seat before you when he moved to loosen his tie and sit in the aisle seat of the row. 

Fox watched as you leaned back against the headrest to settle, taking note of your features. He stole a few glances yesterday when you were filling out paperwork for your transition into the Bureau on his old desk; for the first time, he wished his office wasn’t so dark. He didn’t get much of a chance other than when he offered to walk you to your car at the end of the night, which you gratefully accepted. He thought your car suited you, being compact and black, but with pictures pinned to the inside roof- reserved, understated, hiding things beneath the surface. His analytic brain was so intrigued by you. Here, where the lights weren’t so low, he could see a lot more. Your jaw had less sharpness and more of a curvature, molding your face into something of a heart; your eyelashes were long, and they curled upwards, mirroring your button nose. It had a little bump on the bridge, which he thought might be from long-term glasses-wearing, but he couldn’t be sure. His eyes traveled along your plump cheeks, a nervous red, just like your lips; your chin protruded a bit, but not too much, just enough. There was a warm feeling between his lungs, an odd one, but he kept looking at how your chest rose and fell anxiously, and wondered how your face could look serene when you felt anything but. 

“Excuse me, you’re in my seat.”

Fox’s head snapped around to see an older woman, gray hair to her shoulders, staring down at him with frustration. You opened your eyes as he muttered, “Oh, sorry. I’ll move over.”

You pulled yourself in tight, tucking your elbows between the armrests stiffly so Fox could scooch over and sit beside you. He smiled at your awkward position and said, “Loosen up Piglet. Everyone is too small for economy, you don’t have to suck it in for me.” You blushed and readjusted, offering him a tight-lipped grin. Another stress you’d had was taking up too much room in the seat, but he didn’t seem to find you did. Fox crossed his own over his chest to give up the armrest. You continued to take long, deep breaths as the seatbelt lights flashed, and when they announced preparation for takeoff. You were doing fine- when Fox started talking about the case, you even paid him half attention. But it all went downhill when the airplane engine began to rev beneath your feet. You tensed up like you were in pain, drawing Fox’s attention away from his ramblings. 

“What’s the matter?”

“I told you, I- I don’t like flying,”

“I know you don’t,” Fox spoke softly, “We’re on the wing, you know. I changed our seats last night so we got the wing. It’s the steadiest part during the flight. Nothing to be scared of.”

You looked out the little window by your shoulder, seeing the plane’s wing stretching out for what looked like forever. You couldn’t see the tarmac, only the span of it, white and comforting. Turning back to him, you realized you’d never seen a face so sincere. “You did?”

“No reason to make you suffer, right?”

Just as you went to really smile at him, the plane began rolling- no, hurtling into takeoff. In a fit of fear, you seized the armrest and shut your eyes. You’d had nightmares about plane crashes. You’d refused any trips that were too long by car. Between when he told you about the case yesterday and this morning, you’d imagined every possible disaster and had reached the epitome of paranoia about it. Yet here you were, stuck in the center of your fear. It felt like your ribs were burning up from the inside out.

You felt rough skin against your knuckles and opened your eyes to see a familiar hand on your own. Your gaze trailed up the arm to the face it belonged to. 

“I’m right here,” Fox leaned in close, and you saw those golden rings again. They seemed to glow. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

There were so many things you wanted to say, so many worries you wanted to voice, but you couldn’t. The sound of his comfort was a roadblock, and all your reckless thoughts smashed head-first into it, making it impossible to think in the pile-up. Instead, you nodded quickly and flipped your palm up, lacing your fingers with his. Pressing your head hard against the seat and swallowing butterflies that you couldn’t define as nervous or excited, you paid close attention to the way his thumb rubbed slow, deliberate circles into your hand. Through the rattling of the engine and the screaming whistle of the air curling around the wings, you felt his touch grounding you in mid-air. You forced yourself to get lost long enough that the plane was in flight for at least a minute or two before you opened your eyes again. 

Humiliated by what a sight you must’ve been, you loosened your deathly grip on Fox’s hand and apologized. “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,” he chuckled, flexing his palm. “You’re strong. Didn’t hurt me, though.”

As you settled into the seat, you felt the ghost of his thumb on your knuckle. The skin was cold. You thought of how hard his hands were. Oddly warm. Curiosity nearly got the better of you as you saw him looking from the corner of your eye, but you pivoted to something else that bugged you. “Where did Piglet come from?”

“Huh?”

“Piglet. Before, at the gate, you called me Piglet.”

“Oh. That,” Fox giggled. You wondered how a guy could look so boyish and weathered all at once. “I don’t know, you’re just so… fretful.”

“Fretful?”

“Yeah. You worry about everything. Yesterday you were practically pulling hair out over those stupid processing papers. This whole plane thing has been a nightmare for you. I don’t blame you, I can be anxious myself… but it just seems like everything drives you crazy. I can imagine you just stressing out, running all around the woods rambling like Piglet does. Y’know, pacing, complaining, bugging Pooh.”

“Oh, and what, are you Pooh in this scenario?”

Fox feigned offense. “What, am I not carefree and- and honey-loving enough for you?”

“If you’re anybody, you’re Eeyore. Maybe some weird amalgamation of Eeyore and Tigger, since you think you’re so funny.”

“I can’t believe this!” Fox gasped jokingly, splaying his hand over his heart and wincing. “You’re brutal, Piglet. So brutal.”

You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, so you looked down to hide what you could of it. And in a stroke of confidence, you said, “If you’re gonna nickname me, can I at least suggest something?”

Fox craned his neck down playfully, searching for the eye contact that you were purposefully refusing him. You felt your cheeks heating up once again, and he must’ve seen it because his eyes twinkled. “Sure. Whatcha got?”

“Rosaline. Maybe Rosie. Something like that.” “Rosaline? Why?” 

When you did raise your head to meet his gaze, there was a genuine look of interest. His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pouted in some gentle way, and he rested his chin in his hand like he was a student behind a desk, soaking up every second of a lecture. You blinked, suddenly embarrassed for speaking up. “Like Romeo’s Rosaline. She’s my favorite Shakespeare character. I, uh…”

Fox was fixed on you. When you trailed off, he insisted, “What about her?”

“Well, I had to do a project on her back in middle school. I had to come up with a new end scene, sort of like a “What if Romeo went back to Rosaline in the end?” type of deal. I- I got in her head a little, tried to understand what it must’ve felt like to be left by a lover out of nowhere… I don’t know, I guess I just resonated with her. I always thought she deserved better cards. I do love Romeo and Juliet, but I think how she disappears into their story is almost more tragic than how the play really ends sometimes… a-and after that, I always wished I had her name,” you gushed. As you realized how much you’d spoken, you mumbled, “Sorry. Dorky, I know.”

The agent ogled you like some specimen he’d never seen before. He knew he was making a face, but he couldn’t help it. You were like a curveball, just flying by and catching him off guard every chance you got. You thought about things in a way that made him want to think like you. Before you said anything, he hadn’t remembered who Rosaline was; his extent of knowledge was how hot the actress who played Juliet was in the 1968 adaptation he saw in school. But the way you looked when you explained it somehow made the man feel guilty for ever forgetting her, for just letting her be lost in time like everyone who suffered the whiplash of Romeo and Juliet’s love. For you to resonate with her, you must see yourself in her, and he wanted so desperately to understand why. Somewhere in the part of his brain where he stifles his thoughts, he knew he could never forget her name now- because by doing so, he’d be forgetting you. And that was not something he was prepared for.

Despite the churning in his stomach, Fox slapped on a smirk and joked, “Good job, you just reminded me of how much I hated Shakespeare when I was fourteen.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Well, we’ll see,” he teased, tipping his head back against his headrest and smiling. “Maybe I’ll go for it. But every time you freak out, we’re going straight to Piglet.”

“Yeah, fine… Eeyore.”

“What’d you call me?”

“Nothing!”

You playfully fell silent and turned towards the window, which you swiftly shut because you didn’t want to know how high up the plane was flying. From a seat over, Fox watched you close your eyes and zone out, and he thought to himself that if you happened to fall asleep in your seat, and your head lolled onto his shoulder, that he would let you rest on him, even if it meant holding his pee until landing. 

[venjamin-kingdomhearts]

i’m thinking of post kh3 ventus vanitas lauriam elrena dynamics where all of them are on the same side. vanitas begrudgingly joining the “””good guys””” for his own purposes and lauriam drags elrena with him to patch things up with ven. au we’re the wayfinders now have to adopt van lauri and elrena into their home and lauriam is the only one remotely trying to be hospitable

i really don’t want post kh3 elrena to loose larxene’s edge but i want it to become more obvious that the bitchiness is a defense mechanism. like she’s still a bitch and will insult you on a dime but nows she’s with the good guys. i don’t want all her spice to go away but PLEASE it would be so adorable if the old elrena shines through and she’s (begrudgingly) soft on ven and van. she doesn’t want to care about them but it’s too late she knows ven is important to lauriam and technically from her past so she’s like “ugh fuck this gay shit. i’m going to teach you to grow a pair of balls and how to say fuck” and ven’s just 🥺 🥺 🥺 she’s a bitch to vanitas constantly because she knows that he’ll interpret any kindness as pity BUT she’s also the first one to jump into a fight by his side/will back vanitas up when ven’s huffy at him

lauriam definitely remembers a lot of his khux personality and decides to embrace it a little more than his marluxia qualities but he’s the one who goes up against vanitas the most like. characters like ventus and aqua will fall right into vani’s traps, where he gets them riled up and angry because he just LOVES to piss them off, but lauriam doesn’t take that shit. if vanitas is a dick to lauriam, that bit or marluxia will shine through and instead of loosing his cool like ven does, lauriam stands his ground and totally rips vanitas a new one.

[skynapple]

Budding Romance | Ch. 15

Love and Deepspace | Jeremiah x MC / slow-burn / friends-to-lovers | Themes: angst, guilt, fluff

warnings: none

Multi-chapter | A03 link

Beginning | <- Prev | Next ->

"Something" Jeremiah has an addiction.

Jeremiah could feel that things had changed between them. He just couldn't put his finger on how.

It was furtive glances, everyday text conversation, plant updates, song recommendations, cute emojis, the way he couldn't see a cropped jacket without thinking her direction.

I'm just keeping her company while Xavier's away.  I'm just helping out. I'm just being a good friend. This is what friends do.

The excuses kept piling up.

He liked this version of her. The unique playfulness in her tone whenever they spoke, distinctly different from the way she spoke to him before, had an addicting quality, like sugar and honey.

“Je-re-miah!!”

It was the same teasing tone as ever. But it felt so... affectionate. 

Inside a brand new bar and arcade across town, conveniently a little ways away from where either of them lived, the two had spent the last hour abusing the claw machine until she had achieved a prized star plushie. He'd been quick to retrieve it from where it fell into the bin, and was now holding it up high in the air, forcing her to stretch up high to reach it. Aggressively, she swatted at it before resorting to poking him in the ribs and arms as if she hoped he would be ticklish enough to cave. He did cave, but not because of the touch. It was the sound of her voice with a slight whine as she said his name that made him stoop to hand it to her. It always did. Even back then, she had a way of making him cave the way she said his name. It occurred to him that maybe that's why he teased her and Xavier so much. Because maybe...  deep down, he loved the way she called to him.

Stop that. Don't think like this.

He halted his thoughts in their tracks and dug himself back into the present where she clung to her retrieved plushie like her life depended on it.

"How dare you!” The tone was stern but there was a lightness and humor to it. They both knew they were joking around.

He wondered how long this would last. How long before Xavier took his stead as her suitor? More importantly, it had not escaped his notice that this version of her wasn't quite pining for him the same way. If she was, she was better at keeping it quiet then before. 

Then again…why would she be so insistent on meeting with someone else? Could she truly not yet have feelings for him? Yet. There was always a yet.

When he'd known her before, there wasn't a day that went by for her without some kind of mention of their former prince. To her, loving Xavier was just as breathing air; it was just a part of who she was. Every time he thought about it, his stomach turned as if he wasn’t ready to watch that process again, especially with his friend was being as insufferably jealous as he was. Plus, Jeremiah had secretly held a grudge at the way he made her wait time, and time, and time again. Now, the man had the nerve to try to prevent Jeremiah from being her friend. He was slowly realizing he wasn't quite comfortable being so flagrantly in the middle... Always the wingman for both of them. So for now, this was fine.

Yanking the toy back from her hand, he used it to bop her forehead and then all over her face. “You didn’t retrieve it fast enough. Now you made him angry!” He laughed.

"Ugh!" She ripped it from his grasp again, using both her hands and to his utter surprise, planted a huge kiss its cheek, leaving a stain. “All better!” 

Odd. The unexpected response left a strange feeling in his chest, meanwhile they exchanged a laugh as he processed it. This strange adulterated bliss, to be so carefree with her like this, left him craving more, like a growing itch in his very being.

The thought of Xavier stepping in at this moment left another knot in his stomach. It would mean the the end of this. No more sneaking her into new places. No late night snack runs, hands brushing together at the train ride home. No plant growth updates. No more frequenting his shop with dead plants in tow. He dreaded it.

"Jer?" She asked, breaking his thoughts. "You tired?"

"Hmm? Oh, maybe a little. Let's get going?"

This is...

The way she was looking at him eagerly –a look in her eye that he never remembered her looking at him in the past– made him smile back, idiotically, uncontrollably. She looked so happy. She made him happy.

With the plushie set down on the bar where their things were, she reached up, slinking her arms around his neck, leaving his arms to settle instinctively on her back, although he was still subconsciously cautious. Everything around them fell away. It was like glitter descended into her eyes, dusting over her, making her glow. Sound itself blurred together. He exhaled in a near soundless chuckle.

“Not yet.” She said softly. “I’m having a good time."

He hesitated, "Me too."

"This song is good."

She started to move them, bodies swaying together, spinning. He spun her the old fashioned way and let the sound of her gleeful laugh fill his ears, far surpassing any beauty in the music that was playing. The spin ended with her pressing up against him, accidentally, as if she had almost tripped. An apology was given but no move was made to separate, and they continued to sway, laughing, and singing the lyrics badly. It made his throat feel suddenly raw. He was trying not to think too much of the feeling of her against him, the way he could feel her warmth seeping through the fabric that was shyly concealing her soft skin, the way he could feel its springiness as she moved, the way she felt so supple in his hands. He was a man, although it never occurred to him how weak he could be against her, especially when her chest pressed up against his. 

He stepped on her toes. She laughed at the accident. "'Miah!"

Though he laughed along and offered an apology, inside his heart had lurched, and he wished she wouldn't have called him that. Anything but that. It was soft –so exceptionally soft. 

So affectionate. 

So sweet. 

She was so addicting.

So...

There was no denying it anymore. He just couldn't believe he had let his feelings for her get away.

This was something.

And it wasn't good.

She looked up at him the way she always did, humming a little out of tune. Her fingers brush against his hair, fixing a stray curl. He almost didn't feel it against the warmth in his cheeks, eyes transfixed on hers. He didn't want to acknowledge it. If he did he'd have to break this something between them bordering on something that could not be. As she turned her head to lay it on his shoulder, he felt himself tremble, her fingers interlocking with his as they danced. He almost cared about the meaning; almost didn't. Seeking to elongate the moment, he closed his eyes, as if it would help, or if it would conceal this moment that felt all too much like it was a dream. 

If I don't open my eyes it's not real.

The moment didn’t –couldn’t– last long. Pulling away, he left his head close to hers, maintaining distance, yet his eyes were still closed. He next said something he shouldn't have.

"You're so beautiful. I should have told you a long time ago.”

"Yeah, you should have." There was humor in her response. It made the corners of his lips turn up in a way he could no longer control.

He opened his eyes, taking her in fully, the expression in her eyes killing him inside. He pulled away suddenly in mild panic, making an excuse to check on their things at a bar as a cheap excuse. At that moment another slow song started - another wistful ballad. She slipped her hands around his waist from behind, sending shivers down his spine and laughter into his lungs. She tugged at him, begging for another dance. At first he refused. 

"Jer-"

"Ok, ok, ok.”

He knew this something between them could not last. For just a brief moment he may have been able to hold her close, because he knew he was not the first man to do so, and he wouldn't be the last. 

Is she... confused? I'm confusing her. I shouldn't--

She was speaking again, he tried to pay attention at the way her voice rose and fell against him.

"-wanted to thank you for the pen and notepad and stuff. You really didn't have to."

"Course I had to. You were sad about what you lost before." He found it in him to respond.

This time there was no alcohol to blame. They'd both racked up a tab full of sickeningly sweet mocktails. It crossed his mind if she refrained from alcohol on his behalf, but that left him with realizing that everything that happening was done all sober. Knowing he had to get it together, he tried to make excuses in his mind for why she was acting this way. Why either of them were acting this way. The music, the lighting, the environment, anything. The warmth she'd left him with left him wanting more. A stray thought to his jealous hunter friend sent a prickly sensation the back of his neck. There would be no teasing this time if he let this moment get away from him. It wasn't like him to feel so out of control.

In the back of his mind, he clung to a safety net like a security blanket. There was no way she would not choose Xavier eventually. Not a world in his mind existed where this something could ever reach anything more than it did right then. 

No, this is ok. Friends can dance. Just like practice in school. This is fine.

When she raised her head up from his chest as the song ended, she smiled a coy smile and leaned up, letting her breath brush against his neck that sense a rush of blood to, well, everywhere.

"Well, thank you." She offered again, and then planted a kiss on his cheek. The motion was quick, but the place where her lips had been on his cheek burned as if she'd lit a flame on his skin. The sensation made his mind falter.

"Careful." He warned, almost to himself.

She only grinned innocently like a child trying to deflect some kind of chastisement, laying a hand on his chest. "Or what?"

He brushed a thumb over her jawline as dangerous thoughts swirled in his mind, his self-control threatening to break. 

"Or..." He glanced over at the star shaped plushie where they left it at the bar. "Mr. Plushie will get jealous. He got the first kiss after all."

She laughed again, following his eyes to the bar and then back. "But they say you should always save the best for last."

"Then," He reluctantly pulled apart from her, feeling her light resistance as he did, not sure what it meant. "All the more reason. Let's get going. Don't want to get you home too late." Upon returning to where they'd left their things, he focused on paying her tab, then picked up their things in both arms, an excuse not to touch her any longer. 

This time he took her home, but made sure to leave as she approached the gate to her complex, mindful of how close he was in view.

This was too far tonight. This won't happen again. I'll be careful.

As he walked away, a feeling of dread set in. Xavier was right, he shouldn’t have taken her anywhere.

She’s getting the wrong idea. Although, it astounded him that there was any kind of wrong idea to be had at all.

In his heart he tried not to think to what would have happened that night if he didn't already assume she belonged to someone else.

In the distance, a light shone from a familiar window, as if a beam from a lighthouse to warn distant ships of dangerous land ahead.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

My whole renewed dive into trying to save all the John Oliver files I can get my hands on, which within a week escalated to me buying a new 1TB hard drive just to see how big a John Oliver folder I can make, started when it was noticed that this video was taken off YouTube:

I was glad I’d saved a copy of it, because I don’t trust anything to stay anywhere on the internet, if there’s something I like I immediately put it on my hard drive so it can’t disappear. I'm making this post mainly for anyone else who might not have saved this before YouTube took it down, here's where you can download it. Because no one should be denied the really fucking weird 25 minutes with baby comedians from 1997.

A few years ago I read this quote from Richard Ayoade, which I annoyingly can't find now, where he said he doesn't like this documentary, that they were just students and obviously didn't know what they were doing and some film people came in and said they wouldn't look bad in it but of course they do look bad. It was something like that, I can't find the exact quote. But I remember finding it odd, because surely no one is judging these people's actual comedic skill based on a few clips from a 25-minute video of when they were students. People just share it because it's funny to adorable little baby versions of the comedians who are famous now. Obviously they weren't doing high-quality comedy, they were like 19, no one cares.

Since then, I have learned that this is not quite true, and Richard Ayoade did, in fact, have reason to object to his weird student sketches being out there. Because apparently, some people are judging their comedic skill based on the time in 1997 when he and John Oliver did a weird sketch on a fence. My deep rabbit hole dives of about 18 months ago led me through a lot of old comedy message board threads, including one from 2006 of people absolutely ripping that video apart as a sign that comedy is well past its peak and this newfangled crop of comedians are all shit and the once-great institution of Cambridge Footlights has fallen. By 2006.

I normally don't link to things things directly from a message board on here, seems too close to that horrible thing where you take screenshots from one social media and post it on a different social media to make fun of it (so instead, I just occasionally see something I disagree with on a message board, and then write a post on here refuting it without posting the original context, to people who don't know what I'm talking about), but it feels more acceptable if it was from 2006, I think. It's not like the person who posted that in 2006 is likely to still be hanging around Britcom social media seeing who's quoting them. So I think... I think I need to quote just a little bit of it, because there was this one really long aggressive rant from this one 2006 post that was the funniest fucking thing (I won't like but it's not hard to find on Google):

I mean, I can't really communicate how bad it was, to be honest. But it was just the fact that you saw the two cunts writing the thing, sitting in a daylight-filled bar, giggling into their lager. You got the picture? Ugh. And John Oliver, who is the spitting image of David Baddiel (intentionally of course), is there with his pencil and notepad suggesting the lines with a grandiose smugness that made me really ill, and his mate (the blandest man ever) is there, with his jumper and his shoes, salivating over the comic genius he sees before him. Cunt, cunt, CUNT! They also have three girl-ones with them, all of whom have no talent whatsoever. You see one of them auditioning, where she has to do some improv, and she's shit... but the president (who looks like a fifteen year-old John Lloyd) can be heard wheezily guffawing at everything she says. And this serves only to make her improv even worse. And John Oliver is the worst. Or the one that got to me the most. With his hair.

That is, in case anyone's wondering, why my current Tumblr bio ends with the line: "John Oliver is the worst. Or the one that got to me the most. With his hair." It's a quote from a guy in 2006 who was really really mad about a 25-minute Footlights documentary.

So I would like to state, for the record, that by sharing this video, I am not endorsing the actual quality of the comedy in the few little sketches we see. I am also not endorsing the class system, the hold that a few elite institutions have over entire industries, Richard Ayoade's views on transgender people, or trivia in pubs. I just think they're adorable baby comedians as well as an interesting snapshot of comedy history. I'm pretty sure that's all it's supposed to be.

I am also not endorsing the class-based dominance of elite institutions when I say I still want that sitcom between two student comedians, Kim Tey and Wark Atson, who have to band together to get through their year-long university comedy play while hiding from everyone but each other their respective secrets of not really being a student there, and not really being Welsh. Madcap farcical hi-jinks ensue. People would watch it. I do not endorse the class-based dominance of elite institutions but I do quite enjoy Footlights stories, so I'm glad they made a really weird documentary with some of them. Also when I go to the UK this summer I've booked off one entire day to take the train to Cambridge and run around feeling like I'm in Harry Potter (Disclaimer: I also do not endorse JK Rowling's views on trans people, or at this point, on most things. Why can't we have nice things?).

I do not endorse the class-based dominance of elite institutions, but also,

And that probably the only time you'll hear someone compare John Oliver to John Robins (very different comedians, really), especially on a post that started out just being a way to share a video that's been taken off YouTube. Download the Google Drive link if you want to keep it, everyone. That was supposed to be the point of this post. It's a good video. It features Richard Ayoade and Matthew Holness and either that woman from Peep Show or her sister, I get them mixed up. And also it features John Oliver with, to be fair for one moment to that guy in 2006, quite Baddiel-like hair.

[sapphicscholar]

As one post of mine [a twitter screencap from jaboukie about sex in media and a desire to see more non cis straight men directing AND, importantly, given a Hollywood-scale budget the likes of which we rarely see] spreads across the hellsite once more (rip to my notifications) I can’t help but notice that people who engage fall into one of three groups:

1) Enjoyed and understood the post - likes, reblogs, maybe adds some fun tags or additions to the effect of “not for me, but happy for others!” or, “oh man if you like the idea of having lesbian directors and quality queer sex scenes in media, you should check this movie/show out!” 

2) Relatively supportive of post’s overall intent but engages in medium-bad faith - maybe reblogs, but is sure to add comments, tags, or additions to the effect of “ugh you dumb fucks clearly forget that we already have [insert one of 3 examples that have come up approximately 4,000 times in the comments as if the limited sample size of nonetheless quality content is not proving the goddam point that we deserve more of this type of media]”

3) Absolutely blatant misreading, worst faith engagement - experiences the utter NEED to comment or reblog with additions suggesting that a tweet calling for there to be more queer and esp. lesbian directors in charge of sex scenes in media means that I’ve somehow demanded every movie to ever be produced now have a lengthy, graphic, full-frontal nudity sex scene and an NC17 rating

Anyhow, delighted to learn that the base of mutuals I’ve cultivated over my years here is almost exclusively the type of people who fall into group #1 with occasional sometimes perfectly understandable forays into group #2 because I’d never log back on if all I got was group #3 

[panelshowsource]

do you have any favorite gif sets of yours from throughout the years?

i mean not really non they're all shit 🧍‍♀️

there are, i would say, three reasons people make gifs: to participate in the community, to keep a visual archive of their hobbies, and for the satisfaction of gifs coming out super prettily and lovely to the eyes. when it comes to giffing this kind of tv content, it's easy to nail the first two but the third? half of the shows are low quality "hd" ripped from youtube, not 1080p hdtv blah blah, so it's so hard to make anything that actually, truly looks spectacular, so you have to have other motivations apart from the satisfaction of decent photoshop skills to keep going (and i only became about 40% decent maybe 5 minutes ago anyways) >.<

that's why anything i'd say i like is probably not even a standout set but just something that's in really lovely quality, like this?

BUT FOR THE SAKE OF HAVING A FUN THROWBACK and you being so kind to ask such a nice question(!!) let me think about it for a moment...

the 2019 female top 5 poll was soooooo fun and i think the gif sets came out decently! i wanna do another poll super super soon

i always love this one of david and love how much everyone else loves this one from my fave series of taskmaster (everyone also seemed to like the latest sean set which was very kind)

for no reason other than having a lot of time on my hands and loving him i did this extra ass response to this anon and i still think it's funny heh

also my david x victoria sets are fun ALWAYS and actually i have another one coming up hehehe

from recently? kayvan turned out sexy (ugh speaking of handsome devils i always love f.05 alan) and also the s16e01 sue set hahahaha she is sooo funnyyyy

often the ideas, parallels, throwbacks, whatever i come up with are pretty good but the gifs themselves aren't anything special or even decent at all — which is why sometimes i remake the same moments a couple times over, thinking i'll immortalise it better each time (and never really do lol)

i'm glad you guys accept 1) that i'm not a world class gif maker and 2) we're dealing with so much low quality video that it wouldn't matter either way ↁ_ↁ

feel free to send a request any time!! i promise i will try for u :") (joe x roisin anon i'm working on yours, it's just a fatty so i need more time; also i see u guz anon)

[bisexualbard-writes]

UGH SO I was cooking and I thought of a Soft (TM) KimChay question for inquiring minds and then by the time I got to my laptop I'd forgotten it, rip. So have 2 for the price of 1 (and obviously there's never any pressure to answer these <3)

Do you think they each have minor idiosyncrasies/habits that drive the other a lil crazy?

and/or

What do you think is their favourite way to spend a day together?

I hope you have a good week! <3

OKAY SO, thank you inquiring minds I’m going to start with the things that drive each other crazy first, and try to answer the favorite way to spend their day together another time.

first of all they TOTALLY have little habits that drive the other crazy, and I think there’s some pretty strong canon evidence for it. The main problems are that Chay is a Messy Boy and Kim keeps his apartment immaculate. I think that they spend a long time Totally Not Living Together (just spending six of seven nights together at once person’s house or another) because they’re a little wary about their differing messy levels. 

But diving into that a little more, Kim’s bad trait is that he throws things away the second they are less than immaculate, even if the tiniest intervention would fix the issue. This drives Chay absolutely crazy, he hates unnecessary waste, he’s like kim just screw the handle back on, it will literally take two seconds but it’s already out of kim’s mind. He already has another in his amazon cart, it will be here first thing in the morning. On the flip side Chay wears his shoes until there’s holes in the bottom and Kim’s like chay please just let me buy you new shoes and Chay is like no no i can totally get a few more days out of them with a little duct tape and then he digs in extra hard because he knows Kim is Too Wasteful and Kim is MORE likely to replace every little thing because he just wants Chay to have nice things and he refuses to accept that something is lowering his quality of life and Kim could just Fix It if only Chay would let him.  They’re gonna suffer through this for awhile but eventually they will come to an uneasy truce where Chay acknowledges when he’s being stubborn and his makeshift fix is becoming burdensome and Kim won’t immediately replace something until he spends five minutes trying to save it first. 

[jadelotusflower]

Obscure Christmas Movie Rewatch: Mrs Santa Claus

Are you looking for a feminist, multicultural, pro-union movie to watch this Christmas? Then Mrs Santa Claus is for you!

Not only does it star the late great Angela Lansbury, it features some catchy showtunes composed by Broadway great Jerry Herman, choreography by musical stalwart Rob Marshall, and costumes by the legendary Bob Mackie.

The story behind this one is also pretty interesting! According to this retrospective on Dame Angela Lansbury (RIP), much like she was a champion for older actors to guest star on Murder She Wrote to keep their SAG cards, she was also the driving force behind this tv movie in order to honour her friend Jerry Herman. While he’d had great success as a lyricist and composer for such seminal Broadway shows such as Hello Dolly!, La Cage Aux Folles, and Mame (the latter staring Lansbury), he was diagnosed as HIV positive in 1985 and by the mid-90′s needed a project to focus on. Enter Lansbury stage left, who had a deal with CBS for a number of tv specials, and pitched this film together with Herman.

undefined

Here’s the perfectly simple premise: It’s seven days until Christmas and the magnanimous Mrs Anna Claus sends all the elves home since they’ve finished the toys early. She also tries to improve Santa’s navigational route and wants to help him with his mail, but is utterly underappreciated by her husband (Charles Durning).

Lansbury brings her distinctive voice to her pleasant I Want song - “I've been manning the business and planning each holiday plan/And I'm tired of being the shadow behind the great man”.

She takes the sleigh and reindeer, but due to bad weather emergency lands in New York City, meeting Italian stable boy Marcello (David Norona) who shows her the immigrant melting pot via the song and dance number Avenue A (well, the Italian-Irish-Jewish pot at least). There’s tap and joyous dancing, all culminating in a Consider Yourself-esque street celebration extolling the “great kaleidoscope called Avenue A.”

There's also a cameo from Jerry Herman, suitably playing a piano.

We meet Sadie (Debra Wiseman), a young Jewish woman and Suffragette, with whom Marcello is in love with from afar, Sadie’s mother Mrs Lowenstein (Rosalind Harris, who memorably played Tzeitel in Fiddler on the Roof) who fears the police after fleeing pogroms in Europe, local gossips Mrs Shaughnessy and Mrs Brandenheim, and Nora (Lynsey Bartilson), a young Irish girl who works at child labor factory Tavish Toys. Nora's Irish accent is...look, I'm not here to rag on child actors. She tried her best.

Our villain is Augustus P Tavish, played by Broadway veteran Terrence Mann, crooning that his toys “Only have to last till Christmas.” If you want to hear his voice used to full effect however, check out the original Broadway cast recordings of Cats (Rum Tum Tugger), Beauty and the Beast (The Beast, particularly If I Can’t Love Her), and The Scarlet Pimpernel (Chauvelin, particularly Falcon in the Dive).

Mann is delightfully hammy in the role, in spats and spinning a cane, delivering every line on pitch as if it’s a song. It's CAMP and I love it. The movie's worth it for his dulcet tones alone.

Mrs Claus (taking the name Mrs North), is employed at Tavish Toys as a supervisor, singing and dancing around the factory floor, improving morale but aghast at the working conditions and poor quality of the toys.

Meanwhile, back at the North Pole, Santa only notices his wife is missing because his cocoa hasn’t been made right (ugh). It’s up to head elf (there’s always a head elf) Arvo is tell Santa she’s gone and deliver Santa some home truths.

Arvo is played by Michael Jeter, one of those delightful character actors with so many credits it’s impossible to identify where you would know him from (for me it’s Father Ignatius in Sister Act 2).

Santa bemoans that he can’t bear to think of Anna about her out there “alone and helpless.” Smash cut to:

What is it about Victorian/Edwardian garb that just feels like Christmas?

Sadie is literally on her soapbox (a manifestation of the trope), and Anna asks her advice about industrial action for the factory. In return, she gives Sadie advice for persuading other women to her cause, utilising the soft power of persuasion rather than shouting slogans. They go a recruiting through song, culminating in a suffragette march where they are joined by Nora, Mrs Shaughnessy, Mrs Brandenheim, and Marcello. I really like this one! It’s uplifting and upbeat, if a sanitised depiction of the struggle for women’s suffrage.

It musically echoes the opening number Mrs Santa Claus, even repeating lines that Anna sung for herself, now applied the the community of women who have embraced her: "We've planned our strategy and our flag is unfurled/For we have gifts of our own to offer the world."

Anna and Nora bond over missing the people they love - Anna her husband, and Nora her mother and little brother who are still back in Ireland (her father is working double shifts to raise the money to bring them over). It’s time for another song and dance number, Whistle - a tribute to vaudeville. This one is a bit overlong and unnecessary, the kind of number that works on stage post-intermission to ease the audience back in, but isn’t needed onscreen.

At the North Pole, Arvo and the Elves try to cheer Santa up by dancing to the tune of We Need a Little Christmas (first composed by Herman for Mame), but he remains sullen. Honestly, this Santa really sucks. He bemoans his predicament, and Arvo has to prod him to write down what his wife means to him. Of course he does it through song, promising to change but it’s a very shallow mea culpa.

Meanwhile Anna plays matchmaker, setting up local policeman Officer Doyle and Mrs Lowenstein, overcoming her fears when Doyle assures her he won’t be taking Sadie away for exercising her free speech. Mrs Lowenstein finally unpacks the bag she’s always kept ready in case they needed to flee again, including her grandmother’s silver candlestick - the matching one being lost when they fled the old country.

Marcello invites Sadie to the Policeman’s Ball, and they sing We Don’t Go Together At All, a pretty song I unapologetically love. However it does end with a trope I absolutely hate - where Marcello taps his cheek but when Sadie moves in to kiss it, he turns his head so she kisses him on the lips. It’s all played very sweet, but probably not something you’d see if the movie was made today.

At Tavish Toys, Anna leads the kids in a work slow down, and then a city-wide strike and boycott. Because this is fantasy world, this immediately leads to the mayor declaring that no child will again work under such conditions, and a call for child labor laws. I think its no coincidence that this passion project of Lansbury's deals with issues such as women's and worker's rights - however santitised. We must assume the elves have union benefits back at the North Pole!

At the policeman’s ball, Mrs North gets to wear this absolutely banger outfit, and gets toasted as “the Mrs Santa Claus of Avenue A.” Lansbury was 71 when she played this role, and all credit to Bob Mackie for dressing her not only with a stylish vibrancy in the earlier scenes, but putting her in a gown like this and going for glamour rather than the dowdy Mrs Claus cliche.

You may also recognise Nora’s outfit recycled from A Little Princess.

I also appreciate that Sadie hasn’t been overtly softened in her relationship with Marcello - she’s the one who gives the speech, engaging in some self-deprecation in decrying herself “the biggest mouth on Avenue A” and wearing a beautiful dress, but not torn down or diminished because of her activism - but rather celebrated and validated by the very people who used to deride her. She's learned the art of pitching your message to the audience rather than riding roughshod over them, but isn't any less of an activist.

But while Anna has finally been given the recognition and appreciation she’s craved, for some reason she misses her dropkick of a husband. “He Needs Me” is a nice song but undercuts the message a bit as she decides that “I need him much more”. You really don't Anna, go that extra step and stage a Santa coup - you deserve more than playing second fiddle to a dude who took two days to even notice you were gone!

She hurries back to the reindeer but is prevented from returning by Tavish, who has implausibly figured out who she is, and wants to stop Christmas so people will have no choice to buy toys from him again. It’s neatly and swiftly resolved by her recalling that as a boy the toy bear he’d received from Santa was stolen by his brother, and Mrs Claus gives him another one. Okay then.

Meanwhile, Santa is still sulking over his bad cocoa. WHY DON’T YOU TRY AND FIND HER YOU USELESS SACK OF SHIT?!? AREN’T YOU OMNIPOTENT? GET OFF YOUR ARSE AND DO SOMETHING!

This is a real false note for me - yes Anna has the sleigh and reindeer, but there is no way out of the North Pole other than that? He just sits and waits for her to come home - I suppose this gives her the agency, but it does feel like she is ready to return to her old life of being unappreciated, instead of going home to demand that he treat her right.

However Santa is slightly redeemed in that he declares that he will use her new navigation route, and also that she can join him in the present delivery duties. She also gets a new cape.

In New York, her friends also get their heart’s desire - Mrs Lowenstein her grandmother’s missing candlestick, Sadie and Marcello each other, and Nora the arrival of her mother and baby brother.

Overall I think this mostly holds up and deserves to be in the Christmas movie rotation. It’s a very female-focused piece - Mrs Claus is in the role of guardian angel, improving the lives of everyone she meets, but her solidarity is with Nora and worker’s rights, Sadie and women’s suffrage, and Mrs Lowenstein and her generational trauma.

It’s a charming little musical with a quintessential performance by Angela Lansbury and a nice parting message:

“As long as you love one another/You’ll have the best Christmas of all.”