#the parade literally starts across the street

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me Professor (Chapter 57 - The Final Chapter)

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

Healing. There would be an infinite amount of healing to do; though over the next six months there were little victories that aided in the process. Will plead guilty. It was an act that everyone was shocked about and ultimately it spared Carol a lot of extra heartache that she didn’t deserve. The evidence was already stacked against him, but now that Will admitted guilt, Carol would not have to sit on a stand as a defense lawyer grilled her and tried to twist her trauma around. For that, everyone was thankful.

Upon a leave of absence for the remainder of the school year, Carol returned to her job in September. In turn, she received a standing ovation from the student body and gained the full support of the staff there. Again, another part of the healing process. I knew Carol was hurting, but she persevered and thrived in her profession. She was going to make it because that’s what women like Carol did. They rose above. They made it.

“She even started coaching volleyball,” Joel informed me. “She was all-state in her younger days.”

Joel. My Joel. I had no issue calling him that all the time now. I tried to prove him wrong every day, and after a little bit of time and a lot of convincing I think it’s clear to him now that I will forever keep his secrets.

He went into a temporary retirement, and I changed my mind and pursued the rest of my Master’s Degree online. Without having to twist my arm too much, Joel convinced me to travel a bit to get away from New York State for a short while. It was therapeutic, to say the least.

I allowed him to take me to Nashville near the end of the summer, and then over to the Grand Canyon. We spent two weeks exploring California, extending our stays from a little ranch near the Joshua Tree, up to San Diego where I unsuccessfully tried surfing and concluding in wine country as autumn really set in. We hiked Washington State, made our way to Yellowstone Park, spent a few romantic nights on Lake Michigan before making it back to the East Coast in time for Halloween, where we crashed the small city of Salem, Massachusetts. It was the perfect ending, really.

Joel found us some cheap masks, and we blended in with the crowds that literally paraded every downtown street in the area. It was welcomed chaos and we spent the day taking pictures with spooky characters, sharing laughs, having some drinks and waiting in lines to slink into shops littered with folklore and magic.

When a light rain began near nightfall, Joel towed me away to a rooftop bar at the top of our hotel where he’d made a reservation earlier in the day. A gentle pitter-patter on the roof of the outdoor patio where we sat was relaxing. It was soothing music to our ears after a day of crowds.

From where we towered above the world, we could see two lighthouses in the distance over the blackened water. Below, people still gathered by the masses for whatever attraction, bar or restaurant they were seeking - if anyone.

“Here are your drinks.” A waitress came back to our two-person, high-top table with a pair of martinis and I sighed as she walked away.

“Ready to go home?” Joel asked, smirked as he placed a hand gently on top of mine.

My fingers squeezed around his and I nodded. “This has been a wild ride.”

“Happy Halloween.”

I grinned again and raised my glass. “Happy Halloween.” Our glasses tapped together and Joel leaned two-thirds of the way across to peck my lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed me another time and then settled back in his chair. At the same time, we took sips from our drinks and I felt my body relax.

“This has been great,” I told him, unable to think of another adjective. “It really revived me.” I gave a nod and looked him in the eye. “How do you feel?”

“A lot better.” He grinned and added, “Thank you for sticking by me. You had every right to run in the opposite direction. You still do.”

“Dr. Miller,” I said sternly, making him chuckle. “I’m going to need you to stop trying to convince me to leave you. Unless you’re secretly trying to get rid of me.” I sipped on my cocktail and kept my eyes on his.

Joel leaned forward, never breaking eye contact. “I would never want that.”

“Then stop saying things like that,” I ordered lightheartedly, leaning back toward him just a little bit.

“Okay,” he agreed, “I’ll work on it.”

“Thank you.” When he lingered, I leaned forward and left a long, closed-mouth kiss on his lips. When I pulled back he was grinning and I chuckled.

“I’m thinking the exact opposite of that, actually.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I want you to be with me forever.”

I felt a blush form on my cheeks and I couldn’t help but smile wider. When Joel leaned back, reaching a hand into the pocket of his khaki pants, I felt like my body went numb. And then he pulled out a small, black box and pushed it across the table. I was frozen. My eyes were glued to the box and if it was anything other than what I thought it was, I knew it would be like a kid opening an empty box on Christmas.

“What’s this?” My words barely made it out past my lips.

Joel’s eyes remained on mine as he opened the box. My eyes dropped, staring at the silver ring in the center of it. A Diamond sparkled even in the dim lighting.

“Marry me,” he said quietly, linking his hands to mine on either side of the ring.

“Marry me.” I repeated the words to myself to make sure I heard them right. “Marry me.”

“Marry me,” Joel said again.

My gaze found his again and finally the tears that welded up in my eyes were tears of joy. “Okay.” I laughed and cried at the same time, “I’ll marry you.”

“Yeah?” He kept his voice quiet as mine grew louder, drawing a few glances from other patrons in our direction.

“Yeah.” I giggled and put my face in my hands as I continued to cry at the same time. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Joel!” I popped my face up. “Yes! Yes!” People were staring at us now and Joel looked around the immediate area, giving a wave and a smile before returning his attention to me. He reached for the ring in the small, black box and slid the ring on my finger.

I jumped up from my seat and I couldn’t help it. I rushed around the table and threw my arms around him, pulling him in to kiss him hard.

“I thought Halloween was a fitting night for us to get engaged,” Joel admitted, holding me close as he spoke in my ear. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“It’s perfect.” I whispered back, holding him close as my fingers gripped the hair on the back of his head. “I love you.”

“Did you two just get engaged?” A female voice shouted from a few tables away.

We both pulled back, still holding onto one another and I responded by showing off my ring. “Yes.”

The costume-clad crowd in the immediate area all began to clap and I couldn’t contain my wide, beaming smile and the tears that continued to fall. When a waitress got wind of it, she brought us over a bottle of complimentary champagne.

“I know it hasn’t even been a year since we’ve known each other,” Joel said, “But life is too short to wait. You changed my life, (Y/N). I’ve never loved or trusted someone more than you. I don’t want to ever risk letting that go.”

“I know how you feel.” We shared another kiss and then took our glasses toward the edge of the balcony that overlooked Salem. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

A breeze passed through and made me shudder, causing Joel to pull me close.

“Any regrets?” He asked.

I smiled up at him. “None, whatsoever.”

**Thank you everyone for following this story. I appreciate everyone reading, reviewing and following. It made it fun to write. This is the longest story I've ever written and it's been fun because people were interacting and guessing whole the killer was and I loved it. It made it great for me, as a writer. So THANK YOU!

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandojojo @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @smolbeanzzz @bandluvr97

[arsnof]

Robert Evans as the Riddler.

It is 2019 and riots are breaking out all over Gotham. What started as peaceful protests over police violence, accountability, and the death of Joe Chill quickly escalate when the GCPD GCPDed. People are angry that the police managed to solve the Wayne family murder in under a week while thousands of existing cases are ignored.

Moreover, just as quick as elderly black man Joe Chill was implicated in the murder, he was also shot dead by police. The cops said they exchanged gunfire with Chill and he was struck while running away. The autopsy showed that he was beaten before being shot point blank in the back of the head. The cops were never even put on leave. Gotham exploded.

Enter journalist Ed Nigma. Nigma, a brash, 30 something thinkpiece writer has covered conflicts across the globe and even he has never seen violence on this level. He jumps into the streets, covering the inner-city war zone.

Police tanks parade down the street. Rows of armored police shoot tear gas and beanbags into teenagers with gas masks and cardboard signs.

Ed is interviewing first aid teams carrying milk jugs when he is caught in a kettle. Despite wearing a vest and helmet loudly declaring him as PRESS, he is beaten into a coma.

Six months later, the riots have been suppressed. A handful of cops have been suspended as a concession to the people. Tanks still roll in the streets. Ed disappears from his hospital bed.

Another year and the security theater has only grown. The police coffers swell and they are spending as quick as they receive. New transfer Jim Gordon doesn't get it. Drones and acoustic deterrents and crowd suppressants andAI facial recognition.. Jim's too old for that.

A beat cop from Chicago, Gordon keeps it clean. Descendant of militant abolitionists, Jim will do what's right, no matter the cost. His sense of justice led him to police work. His sense of morals led him into the path of his superiors, who punished him by sending him to the dirtiest precinct in the country.

His first assignment is reports of a strange podcast (what is that even? You have to what? What's an app?) that seems to be threatening local industrialist Derek Powers. Jim listens through the three available episodes. They cover Powers; his early life in South Africa and Venezuela. Inheriting his fortune. Claims of slavery and rape and murder. Each episode ends with a promise to kill Derek.

The episodes are listed as a four parter, with the last one streaming tonight. Jim tunes in with the help of his daughter, Barbara (that girl is smart!). Jim makes her leave as the host has a rather filthy mouth and is quite raunchy.

It starts normally enough. A list of social connections that reads like a terrorist watch list. Flights to isolated islands. Associations with the police. This last part catches Jim off guard, as it details Powers' involvement in the Joe Chill protests. The host alleges that Powers paid off commissioner Loeb to get extra protection around his building and giving them permission to get extra hands on if necessary.

"And that's it for ol' international pervert and expert trout seducer Derek Powers. Hey, Sophie, you know what- what really.. really.. uh, explodes? My office building? Aw, fuck, I fucked up that transition. Anywho, join us next week on the podcast whose name is literally just a question mark when we start a three parter on Ace Chemicals and the incredible world of crowd control!"

Gordon sits in silence for a minute. If what this.. 'Riddler' says is true.. Powers is a monster. A sick Bastard. A.. a.. His phone rings. It's Bullock. Jim thinks Harvey Bullock is only putting on the airs of a dirty cop. Somewhere under that trench coat and cigar is a decent guy trying to do good in a place that actively tries to beat you down. Bullock says to turn on the news. Powers Plaza has been bombed. Derek and six shareholders are dead.

His eyes move from the burning tower on the TV to the podcast app on his computer. The question mark logo purple on green. What the hell is going on in Gotham City?

[theonlyren]

Ryme City Sylveon

This is Vivi. He’s my Sylveon partner.

Not enough people talk about the Ryme City Incident.

I don't blame 'em. Hell, Ryme City doesn't wanna talk about the Ryme City Incident. Enough near-world shattering crises happen across all the regions on a semi-annual basis that, honestly, our little spat must have seemed comparatively minor. The bullshit with Chairman Rose and Galar literally happened like not even a year later, and what happened here quickly became history. Doesn't change the fact that I've had to take years of therapy just to get to the point where I'm comfortable talking about it, or at the least blogging about it. So... hey, here we are.

I was a Sylveon.

I'd like to talk about that, at least, in the best way written words can allow.

It lasted maybe ten minutes, fifteen tops? I didn't even want to attend the damn parade, but my job had me stationed downtown and it was a big city holiday, so I brought Vivi (the Sylveon in question) with me, found a table at a cafe whose name I can't remember, and decided to just relax. The floats go up, and next thing I know, R Gas is flooding the streets, and my normally sweet and bubbly partner is going fucking feral. I try to calm him down, and then-

I remember recovering from the disorientation. Being on all fours, and the ribbon-feelers in my view. I remember panicking, stumbling on unfamiliar legs. I remember the feedback loop from my own panic as a feeler touched my own head. I remember seeing Vivi's reflection in a tinted window, but not my own, and it all fucking registered then and there. "Holy shit, I'm a Sylveon. I'm Vivi." No, I'm not dreaming. Yes, this is real. I remember just staying stock still, not moving, not doing anything, in utter disbelief at what I was looking at. That lasted maybe a few minutes before I hear someone saying to get out of the gas, I turn and see it's an Arcanine. How the fuck do I understand what an Arcanine is saying? Oh right, I'm a Sylveon, that would explain it. What the fuck is going on!? We crowded around a clear part of the sidewalk, the Arcanine, who I presume is a RCPD Officer, and is just as disoriented as I am, is just trying to keep us in order, asking us if we remember our names, our homes, that sort of thing. Normally I'm an ACAB sort of guy, but bless this dude in particular, he tried so hard.

And then it hits me, "Wait, what the hell happened to my Vivi." I'm in his body, but I don't know what happened to his mind. And frankly, that scares me more. There's no universe where this is okay to begin with, but definitely not if it cost me my actual Sylveon. I'm cognizant enough to not begin screaming for him like he's lost. I recognize I am him. But I still miss him.

As I'm putting all that together, I think the gas finally starts wearing off and... This is where words kind of fail, but, I sensed him, I feel his mind or consciousness or whatever rubbing against mine, and the sheer relief we felt, and then the confusion, and then just... acceptance. Joy. Love.

The Love.

We take that shit for granted.

I will repeat myself.

We take that shit for granted.

If you have a Sylveon partner, I guarantee whatever amount of love and adoration you feel for it is not even a fraction of a fraction of the love it feels for you. I'm not even trying to undersell you. I'm sure you love your partner dearly. Sylveon really is a somewhat unique case. Eevee has to love you in order to evolve into a Sylveon. And when you return and reward that love in kind, It's just...

I'm crying as I remember this.

For maybe a few minutes, I felt and truly understood just how much Vivi loves me. How much it dominates his being, his soul, his very fucking essence. I felt literal Infinity Energy channeled in the form of Love. And no, it wasn't anything untoward. I don't wanna marry my Sylveon or anything and he doesn't wanna marry me. But he was so ride-or-die that his consciousness taking a back seat to my mind and soul piloting his body didn't bother him in the slightest. Shit, it excited him, because he realized he got to share his feelings for me in a way that would have otherwise been impossible, and sweet Arceus did he share.

And then Mewtwo broke the spell, and it was over. Our minds split apart and I had my body back. We just stood and stared at each other. Vivi eventually got brave enough to grab me with a ribbon and...

We hugged for a long, long time when we got home.

How do you answer that? How do you live after feeling love like that, raw and unfiltered, and having it sheared away? Knowing your Pokémon loves you in inexpressible, infinite, uncontrollable ways that makes your own love for it in return pale in comparison? In the aftermath, there were some days where I just couldn't look Vivi in the eyes because I felt like I didn't deserve him.

I can't. Match. That.

And there was fucking nothing I could do about it. It depressed me for years and still does. What could I do? What, leave him? Push him away? Resent it? Fuck no. Those feelings are a fucking gift and it took me a long time to understand that fully. He wouldn't have that love if my own pitiful-in-comparison love didn't spark his evolution. Not a day goes by I wish 5/10 didn't happen. But in the same vein, I appreciate that it did. Howard's vision was misguided, flawed to its core, and despicable. Being my Sylveon was terrifying, wondrous, and beautiful. I'm almost certain I'll never feel love like that in my life ever again, and I'm resigned to live with it. But I am happy, overjoyed even, to know it's there, directed at me and no one else.

I love my Sylveon. And he - capital "L"- Loves me.

[artemis32]

Okay. Now Dg as Yandere x s/o reader 😈

Yandere DG I

He's not my favourite character, but I can't deny it, he's hot

Requests are open, please spam me, I'm bored

****

Lookism Masterlist

****

****

Girl run.

That’s literally the only piece of advice I could give if we’re talking about DG as a romantic yandere.

The worst of it isn’t that he’s obsessed and borderline crazy. No. The worst part is that you won’t even really notice it until it’s too late to leave.

He starts off so sweet, the picture of a perfect gentleman.

Flowers, gifts, romantic dates, lovely sugarcoated words - lies, sweet smiles and passionate kisses and embraces.

He truly is the perfect other half you’ve been looking for - or so you thought.

There are two versions of events: how you met him, and how he met you. Really, you shouldn’t be so comfortable and sure of who you let into your life. You never know who someone really is until it’s too late.

****

You met DG while you were out with friends.

Before he became a famous idol, a short while before his debut, he was parading about with his fellow trainees in a hidden little restaurant, tucked away in a side street far from the bustling main street a few feet away.

The group of trainees, tired and happy for their much needed day off, had taken refuge at a table pushed far into the corner of the restaurant, DG sitting in the corner, facing the entrance of the restaurant.

They’d already finished their meals by the time you’d arrived, wrapped up in a thick scarf and coat to ward off the cold. 

You were accompanied by two or three friends, not that he paid them much mind.

Breathlessly, you had taken a seat at one of the tables near the front of the restaurant, unwrapping the thick scarf to reveal your face, split with a wide smile.

Your small group laughed and spoke, pausing momentarily to order before continuing.

The sudden silence leaves you confused, that is until you turn and spot possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen standing behind you.

He would introduce himself in a calm, cool tone, telling you about how he saw you from across the room and had to take the chance to introduce himself to such a lovely lady.

Words meant to woo you - and they work. Both you and your friends find him charming. You don’t question why a handsome man decided to greet you out of the blue - you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Because of that, you don't reject him when he asks to see you again.

****

The first date is memorable, as first dates usually are. He takes you on a picnic in one of the most beautiful nature reserves you've ever seen. Everything is covered with a light sprinkle of snow, but the two of you remain comfortably warm underneath a heated outdoor patio.

He's the perfect gentleman, doing everything exactly right. It almost seems like he's able to read your mind, everything going exactly as you'd hoped.

One date turns into two, and then another, and another after that.

Soon enough, the two of you are inseparable.

He lives on a very busy schedule but always seems to have time available for you.

Sometimes he plans to see you in advance, other times he'll show up unannounced to whisk you away for a quick lunch date or coffee run.

Regardless of how busy he is, he seems to put you first, pushing aside any and all responsibilities in favour of spending time with you. Honestly, he’s a wonderful boyfriend, someone you could really see yourself staying with for a long time.

****

DG met you a year and a half before he actually introduced himself.

It was some hot summer day and he remembered so clearly how beautiful you looked in the first moment he saw you - you had been wearing a dress, one he was sure to compliment you on in the far future.

You had been so happy that day, smiling so widely, laughing and joking with one of your friends. 

Of course in that moment he couldn’t have said anything to you, even if he had wanted to - he had been working with Gun at that moment, and the last thing he’d wanted to do was draw Gun’s attention to you.

So he ignored you and went about his business, only come back at a later stage, this time without Gun, prepared to learn everything he possibly could about you.

In that year and a half before he introduced himself, he obsessed over you, day and night, for months. He spent all that time learning as much about you as he could. His reasoning was sound - he had to get to know you, he couldn’t afford to slip up and have you reject him.

And he was so grateful that he had done that. He learnt so much about you, things that he would probably not have known - things that may have ended up pushing you away from him.

For example, you didn’t like cocky people, so he had to tone it down a bit whenever he was around you, putting on the façade of a humble man, content and reserved. 

He learnt about other, more trivial things, like your favourite foods and your hobbies, certain characteristics and behaviors of yours that he studied extensively.

Truly, by the time he actually introduced himself - in the café you visited weekly - he knew more about you than you probably knew about yourself.

****

He doesn’t really become crazy until nearly two years into your relationship. By that time, you’re comfortable around him, having been lulled into a somewhat false sense of security.

The changes in his behaviour and treatment of you start slowly. He makes small suggestions, little pieces of advice that seem to logical to deny.

Do you really have to go out with your friends today? You saw them last week - and now that I’m an idol, is it really safe for you to go out all the time? There may be some crazy fangirls out there who see you as competition.

That made sense - you didn’t really have to go out to lunch with all of your friends anyway, you could always see them some other time.

Do you really need a job? I make enough money for the both of us - it would make me feel a lot better if you take some time off, just for a little bit.

Naturally, a little bit of time slowly turned into you being unemployed. The same goes for your education - you’ve been studying so hard, don’t you think you deserve a small break?

He isolates you so gradually that you barely realise it until it’s too late. You have no where to go, no one to turn to except him. Not that that’s a bad thing, he takes such good care of you. He loves you.

And he does love you, that much is true. You’re beautiful, funny, intelligent (not as much as him), trusting and kind. You’re everything he wants and more.

It’s unlikely that you’d see any of his negative traits unless you push him too far - he tries to leave his anger and pessimistic thoughts at the door, never involving you in his problems.

The only way you’d push his patience is if you pestered him about leaving, for any reason - to see your friends, to get a job, to leave him. Or if you bugged him about his work, the things he did outside of being an idol.

He’s willing to give you a lot, but Telling you about what he does isn’t something he ever planned on sharing with you, ever.

The fact that he knows you so well also means that he can predict a lot of the things you’ll say and do, so oftentimes he can intervene before you say something you might regret.

****

If you were to ever try and leave him - whether because you realised how manipulative and controlling he is, or because you found out what kind of business he was involved in - he would act quickly, locking you away and cutting off any remaining contact you may have had with anyone other than him.

Honestly, you shouldn’t complain. He provided you with plenty - clothing, food, a gorgeous apartment, trips all over the world, really anything your heart desired. All he asked for in return was that you loved him - that included keeping yourself out of his personal affairs.

You would end up giving in, feeling guilty for prying.

Overall he’s not a bad boyfriend- he treats you very well and he really does care for you, but he is a horrible yandere - manipulative, calculating, possessive. 

He’s also the king of gas-lighting, twisting your words, making himself out to be the victim. And praying that he’ll get bored of you won’t work either, not when he put so much work into making sure you loved him.

On the bright side, he’d never turn violent. He sticks to purely mental games when it comes to you - whether or not that’s worse, you can decide.

[leaderpinhead]

Kalim - Heart of Gold

For context, Emir is an OC I created. He is Kalim's cousin, and he is older than Kalim and Jamil by one year. Aaliyah and Ahi are also OCs and I literally just created them for this piece.

“Hurry, Jamil! Emir! We’re gonna miss it!” 

Kalim ran through the stalls of the Zahab Market. He waved at the few vendors closing their stalls, enthusiastically returning their jovial greetings. He skirted around the corners, tripping over his sandals when he took one too quick. He heard the distant trumpet of a horn. Gasping for breath, he ran faster. “It’s starting!” 

“Kalim!” Jamil’s voice sounded distant behind him. “Slow down!” 

Kalim heard a familiar jingle of bracelets. He glanced over his shoulder. His older cousin smiled back at him, the bangles Kalim had given to him yesterday as a birthday present jangling on one wrist. Jamil was only a step behind Emir, frowning at the back of his head. 

Kalim saw Emir turn before he had to focus ahead of him to avoid a cart of churros rolling across his path. “What’s wrong, Jamil? Najma runs faster than you.” 

“Only because she wants to cut off your braid!” 

Kalim laughed. Watching his cousin run away from Najma after using her scarf as a leash for his cat, Jai, had been funny. She had refused to come with them today because Emir still hadn’t returned her scarf. 

Kalim sprinted out from the awning welcoming tourists into the Zahab Market. The street was packed with bodies, forcing Kalim to come to a sudden halt. He stood on his tiptoes in hopes of seeing around everyone, but that wasn’t very possible when you were the same height as everyone’s waist. With a huff of impatience, Kalim waited for Emir and Jamil to catch up to him. 

Jamil immediately grabbed his wrist. “You can’t run off like that! My parents would have my neck if anything happened to you.” 

Kalim laughed and grabbed Emir’s hand. He waved their arms so that their matching bracelets would sing together. “Don’t worry, Jamil! My father said it was okay for us to watch the parade from here.” 

Jamil sighed and said something, but the crowd chose that moment to loudly cheer. Panic pushed Kalim forward. He had to get to the front of the crowd, or he wouldn’t be able to see anything! 

“Master Asim!” 

Kalim automatically turned towards the voice. His head tipped sideways to keep track of the large man pushing through the crowd. “Emir? Isn’t that…” 

Emir groaned and pulled Kalim through the crowd. Jamil, still holding Kalim’s wrist, loudly sighed. “Did you leave home without telling anyone? Again.” 

“This is why you’re my least favorite Viper.” 

“Shouldn’t we let your guard know we’re okay?” Kalim asked. He strained his neck to try to see through every gap in the crowd they passed. It didn’t look like the parade had officially started yet. “Then they’ll let us watch the parade!” 

“Yes,” Emir agreed. He still pulled Kalim away from his bodyguard. “From a far-off balcony on the Asim estate.” 

Kalim didn’t like that idea very much either. He looked for a place to hide so the bodyguard would pass by them. An alley between two buildings made a small enough gap for them to squeeze through. Kalim swung the other two toward the gap. “This way!” 

They squeezed through the gap and waited. Kalim had to stand on his toes to see over his cousin's shoulder. Sure enough, the guard ran right past their hiding place, still calling Emir’s name. Kalim grinned at his plan’s success. “Now we can watch the parade from down here!” 

A sudden weight landed on Kalim’s head, causing him to yelp. A chitter sounded right in his ear. Kalim shouted when a tiny hand started pulling at his earring. Emir and Jamil reacted at the same time, both of them twisting in Kalim’s direction. Emir’s eyes widened. “A monkey?” 

Jamil tried to shove Emir aside, but the alley was too narrow for him to push around the older boy. “Kalim! Stop standing their looking...at least shake it off!” 

Kalim tried to shake his head, but the monkey only clung to his hair harder. Kalim’s squeal matched the monkey’s shriek when the earring refused to give. Giving up on that piece of jewelry, the monkey skittered down his arm. It yanked a bracelet off Kalim’s wrist and ran down the alley with its spoils held high above its head. 

“My bracelet!” Kalim cried. His shuffled sideways after the monkey. “Give them back, Mr. Monkey!” 

“Kalim!” 

Kalim ignored Jamil and followed the monkey. When it reached the end of the alleyway, it jumped up onto a stall and started swinging from one stall to another down the street. The street was empty of its usual foot traffic, which made it easier for Kalim to keep up with the animal. His eyes stung with tears. “Please, Mr. Monkey! Give it back!” 

The monkey ignored him and kept jumping from one stall to another. It used the fabric roof of one stall to launch itself up the wall and scramble into a window. Kalim stopped in front of the stall. His breath hitched, gasping for air. His eyes stung more. “My bracelet...” 

“Don’t let it get away!” 

Kalim watched in awe when Emir climbed the crate next to the stall. He used the fabric roof as a trampoline and bounced himself just high enough to grasp the edge of the windowsill. With a determined grunt, he pulled himself over and through the window. 

Kalim didn’t hesitate following his cousin’s example. On his first bounce, he caught Jamil staring up at him with wide eyes. “Why do you always follow your crazy cousin?” 

Kalim giggled through his frustrated tears. He didn’t wait for Jamil to climb onto the crate before reaching for the window. It took a few more jumps—his cousin was already a bit taller than him and Jamil—but he was eventually able to grab the windowsill. He tumbled through the window with a small cry. 

After righting himself, Kalim brushed off the thin layer of dust from his pants. He glanced around the dimly lit room, which looked like a room in one of his father’s storehouses, only covered in more sand and dust. Kalim followed Emir’s voice through the small maze of crates and barrels. “You will return what you stole!” 

“I didn’t steal nothing,” a higher pitched voice insisted. The monkey shrieked in agreement. “You can’t prove Ahi did either!” 

“I watched your monkey take that bracelet right off my cousin!” 

“Your cousin should be more careful not to drop his things.” 

“So you admit, you stole it.” 

“I only said he should watch what he drops. Clearly, he dropped his bracelet, and you have nothing better to do than accuse poor street urchins of stealing!” 

Kalim quickly found his cousin behind a wall of barrels. He blocked the only way around the wall, pushing a small girl into the corner of the room. She scowled at him from behind roughly chopped bangs. Her tiny chin tipped backwards so she could glare down her large nose at his cousin. The monkey that had stolen his bracelet sat on her shoulder, baring its teeth at Emir. Kalim saw his bracelet peeking out from the girl’s pocket. 

“Quit the act.” Jamil stepped around Kalim and stood slightly in front of Emir. He placed his hands on his hips like all their mothers did when they were in trouble. “Return the bracelet before we report you to the market police.” 

The girl tipped her chin back even more. “Who do you think you are? You come into my house, accusing me of stealing? Where’s your proof?” 

Jamil and Emir both pointed at her pocket. Emir said, “That’s Kalim’s bracelet, and we can easily prove it.” 

“Oh, yeah? And how do you—.” 

A loud rumble interrupted the girl. Kalim’s eyes widened, and he almost looked around the barrels in search of the tiger he swore was just on the other side. The monkey made a little noise and patted the girl’s choppy hair. The girl, who had frozen mid-sentence, slowly closed her mouth. She swiveled her hips slightly and started again. “Like I was saying, how do...” 

She was interrupted by the rumble again. Bending slightly forward, she patted the lower part of her stomach. Jamil made a huffing noise. “Is that seriously...” 

The girl pointed a shaky finger at Jamil. “You can’t prove nothing!” 

Kalim blinked at the shaking arm. The longer he stared at the girl, the more he realized how tiny she was. She couldn’t be much older than Najma, who was the same age as Kalim’s second sister. Neither of them, with their olive skin and round cheeks, looked as tiny as the girl did. Even in the shadow of the corner, Kalim could see the sharp peaks of her cheekbones, the rough callouses on her fingers, and how her stained shirt billowed around her when she pressed her arm protectively against her stomach. 

Kalim stepped around his cousin and friend. The monkey hissed at him, but it didn’t stop him from walking closer to the girl. Her eyes slightly widened at his approach. She backed herself tighter into the corner until her back was completely pressed against the wall. 

“Are you hungry?” Kalim asked. Kalim dug into his pocket. The girl’s eyes narrowed, and she turned her torso more towards the wall. Kalim hummed when he found what he was looking for. He held out the pack of crackers his mother had slipped into his pocket before he ran out of the house. “You can have these! I was planning on eating them later, but I can always get a small cake at one of the stalls.” 

“Kalim.” Kalim couldn’t tell if the sigh came from Emir or Jamil, but it was Jamil who spoke. “Why are you trying to feed a thief?” 

The girl shot a suspicious glare over Kalim’s shoulder. “How many times do I have to say it? You can’t prove I stole anything!” 

“You can keep my bracelet.” Kalim knew it was his cousin who gasped this time. He smiled wide at the girl despite the returning sting in his eyes. “It was a bracelet my grandmother gave me before she died. I was supposed to keep it safe for her, but you can have it. Father once said it could feed a whole palace!” 

The girl stared at him with wide eyes. The monkey suddenly hopped from her shoulder to Kalim’s. Kalim tensed for a brief second, but he quickly relaxed when he felt the monkey’s tiny fingers digging through his hair. He giggled when the monkey tickled the back of his neck. 

The girl slowly uncurled from the corner. Her hand lashed out faster than Kalim could see, snatching the crackers from his open hand. He smiled when she nibbled on the corner of one before shoving the whole thing in her mouth. The monkey chittered and jumped back to her shoulder to accept a cracker too. 

She watched him through narrowed eyes while she thoroughly chewed. She shoved another cracker into her mouth, and her posture uncurled a little more. Kalim couldn’t help but feel good seeing her cheeks bulging. “Do you want to go watch the parade with us? There’s supposed to be dancers and everything!” 

The girl shook her head almost immediately. Before Kalim could feel any disappointment, he found the bracelet shoved into his face. He started back a step in surprise and scrambled to grab the bracelet when the girl just let it go. The girl shoved another cracker in her mouth, and her monkey companion did the same. “Here. I can’t do nothin’ with it anyway. Even that shady stall at the back of the Camel Bazaar would report me to those stuffy officials.” 

“So now you admit to stealing it?” Jamil muttered. Kalim glanced over his shoulder. Jamil frowned at the girl, but Emir stared down at his own wrist, fiddling with the matching bracelet their grandmother had given him. “We should still report you. I bet you’re a regular pickpocket in the bazaar since you’ve trained your monkey to do it. I bet he’s not even registered with the authorities.” 

“Ahi don’t need to be registered.” 

“Case in point.” Jamil sighed and shook his head. He met Kalim’s eye. “Kalim, you should report this to your father. To pickpocket anyone in the Asim family is...” 

Ahi suddenly shrieked. The girl rammed into the barrel next to her. The stacked barrels wobbled in such a way that wasn’t normal, but Kalim only had seconds to watch them tip forward before his cheek scraped against the floor. The weight on his back lifted only after the hollow thuds ended. “I figured it was a trap. I can’t believe you let her trick you into following her back here. Why else would she let you corner her?” 

“You think I didn’t know that was what she was doing? Why do you think I stayed at the far end of the barrels? I could have easily ducked out of the way, which doesn’t even matter because they were just cardboard!” 

Kalim pushed out from beneath Jamil. He left his friend and cousin to argue while he ducked around the fake barrels and followed the girl to the window. He got there just in time to watch her bounce from the stall roof into the stacks of hay on the opposite side of the crates they climbed earlier. Her choppy hair collected a few pieces of straw that she couldn’t simply shake from her head. 

As if sensing Kalim’s eyes, she turned back up to stare at him. He waved at her. “Bye! Oh! What’s your name? I’m Kalim!” 

Ahi chittered back at him and waved. The girl stared up at him for a long second. Her tongue poked out from between her lips. “You’re way too nice. Almost a dumb kinda nice.” Kalim tipped his head slightly. She took a few steps towards the end of the street. She twisted her torso to stare back up at him. “It’s Aaliyah. Now go watch the parade with your dumb friends.” 

Kalim grinned and waved at her until she vanished around the corner. Aaliyah—Kalim liked her! She was kinda like Najma. Kalim slipped his bracelet over his hand and back onto his wrist. Najma liked to pretend she didn’t like Emir too, kinda like Aaliyah pretended she didn’t care his bracelet was the only thing he had left of his grandmother. 

[robert-the-greyhound]

The Aftermath; Rising of the People.

The airing of "Greyhounds, Running for their Lives" was a real turning point for Greyhound Welfare Activists in Ireland. It was a literal key to a locked door we had been trying to pick with a hairpin for years. It brought to light the dark underbelly of the Greyhound Racing and Coursing Industries on a national viewing platform. Finally, the world REALLY saw the Truth.

I remember my mother calling me the day after. She was very upset, and said she had to turn the last part off due to the incredibly distressing images and videos. My mother has always been a rather sensitive soul when it comes to Animals. She'll watch a horror or slasher film where guts and blood fly but changes channel when Bondi Vet comes on as she doesn't have the stomach for it. But after watching two parts of the documentary, she was truly shaken at what was happening in this country and abroad, all off the back of her taxpayer money. I remember her saying how she had listened to me and my rants but more-so in a "that's nice honey" kind of way. Seeing everything I'd claimed on the national broadcaster platform really brought to light all the information I had previously shared.

She wasn't the only family member to reach out. Having moved across the country from my extended family years prior, I was very much outside the loop of family chattering. But uncles, aunts, cousin's, they all sent messages or called to chat about the Documentary, ask after Robert and ask what THEY as individuals could do to help. And they weren't the only ones.

Messages FLOODED into the Greyhound Awareness Cork Pages, as well as Roberts personal social media. Outraged citizens wanted to know what they could do to help. At first, we didn't really know what exactly to tell these people, messaging in their hundreds. It was like a dam had broken and flooded our little River valley of awareness events and protests. Now instead of a handful of dedicated Greyhound Activists, we had half of Cork looking to lend their voice to the voiceless!

So we organised a Rally. A march through Cork City Centre. A demonstration that we, the people, are ANGRY and won't stand for the continued systemic abuse and neglect of Irish Greyhounds.

The day of the March was incredible. Arriving on Grand Parade to see hundreds of people standing where previously only a dozen had was breath-taking. Seeing dozens of rescued greyhounds where before we were lucky to have three or four was likewise inspiring, though it once again drew to light the reality of just how few greyhounds made it out of the industry into loving homes.

Robert and I were invited to lead the way, alongside fellow greyhound advocates and rescue hounds Farloe, Molly and Cooper. There was a short speech to begin before we marched, moving up Grand Parade, down Oliver Plunkett Street and back up Patrick's Street. People stopped their shopping and joined us, or leant their support vocally, joining the chants of "There's No Excuse for Greyhound Abuse" or "You Bet, They Die". The support was truly incredible.

The one thing I remember clearly that surprised me at the time was the raw emotion. Animal cruelty always seems to strike a chord with people, but having been speaking up for Greyhounds and aware of these issues for so long before they were made public, I had started to become a little numb. There was always another case of horrific abuse. Another death on the track. Another rescue begging for help for the "take them or ill get rid of them hounds". Another dog turning up in Spain, Pakistan or China. Always more abuse, death and neglect. But standing in Cork City Centre, my best fur-iend Robert by my side, surrounded by hundreds of people yelling their support for the cause, I actually felt emotional.

The March for Greyhounds through Cork City harnessed the new found limelight brought about by the RTE documentary and the the industry and the movement even further into the public eye. There were multiple photographers trailing along the march, photographing the event. Likewise, there were news reporters, recording and streaming the march, taking interviews and asking everyone and anyone for a comment. The answers were all the same; We are here for the Dogs. The thousands of Greyhounds culled annually in pursuit of profit. The 6000 innocent lives lost every year. We are here, and our demands are clear- We want an end to the abuse of Greyhounds on the back of our taxpayer money.

The march went smoothly, with little to no hassle outside of a few snide comments from pro-racing passers-by. The morning after, our story and mission was the headline for every local paper. Photos and videos of the march were all over social media. It was a resounding success. Our first BIG event had worked out perfectly, raising awareness and pushing for an end of the plight of greyhounds.

Even the day after the march, the messages kept coming in. The public were riled up and people wanted to know what else they could do. Writing letters to local reps didn’t seem to satisfy that itch. Sharing information on social media didn't feel personal enough. People wanted to physically go out and protest, so that's what we did. We organized another trackside protest. And the turnout was phenomenal.

Previous trackside protests had been a few dozen people at a push, with a handful of dogs if the weather allowed. Now it was a highly organised event, needing high vis jackets and a team of organisers, the whole of GAC was run ragged keeping everyone in check.

That protest was an emotional one, and one of the only times we changed from a silent protest to a vocal one. It was better to organize the outrage into a single cry than try and corral the outbursts. There’s always one or two that get too riled up and start yelling “scum” or trying to spit back at those driving into the track, those few individuals who get so emotionally charged they lose sight of the end goal of a peaceful protest and lash out instead for some immediate satisfaction. To prevent said outbursts, we organized into a single cry “there’s no excuse for greyhound abuse”. Pauline McLynn once again joined us, giving a short speech which I streamed Live on Roberts Instagram for another hundred or so viewers. The support really was incredible.

And it didn’t stop there. After the initial outrage and flood of support had broken the dam, a steady river of messages and requests came in, and so began what I can only describe as the Greyhounds summer tour of Cork.

TW: #Animal Abuse #Animal Death #Dog Abuse, #Dog Death, #Drugs, #Animal Rights, #Protest

Photo Credit: Karl Kachmarksy

[clarktooncrossing]

Giraffe's Eye View: Christmas Specials Special (2023) | The Christmas Tree

Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps these following Holiday specials will!

Greetings people of today and robots of tomorrow! It is I, Santa Clark, your geeky giraffe friend with a deep love of Christmas! My obsession for the yuletide is rivaled only by Maleficent’s hatred for it, which is saying a lot considering she once teamed up with Mad Madam Mim to kidnap the literal Spirit of Christmas. Yes, that really happened. I know this due to my annual pilgrimage to the Island of Misfit Specials, home to obscure or nerdy festive media ranging from movies, TV episodes, and comics. It’s no easy journey. Constantly I find myself confronted by sinister snowmen, genocidal gingerbread men, and worst of all, crappy commercials. Getting stabbed in the foot by a candy-cane wielding cookie is one thing, but I swear I’ve seen that ad for Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium more times than I’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street! Sometimes at night I catch myself reciting that jingle. Wilbur’s White Elephant Gift Emporium: Where Christmas meets Convenience! Huh, maybe Maleficent had a point.

Nah, my deep-rooted appreciation for this time of year can weather even the most moronic marketing! It helps that most of the merry media I’ve seen have put me in the perfect Holiday mood! Examples include the time a Ninja Turtle found himself trapped in a truck full of stollen toys, a drunk department store Santa stumbling onto a wish-granting magic bag, Big Bird nearly becoming a popsicle, Gwenpool waking up in a world where Galactus took the place of jolly ol’ Saint Nicholas, a terrifying tree stump trying to slaughter some saps over a stupid ship war, and the year when Death gave the Little Match Girl the greatest gift of all. Needless to say, I thought I had seen it all. That is, until I took my friends on a trip to the Island, tasking them to find me new, strange, seasonal specials to review! Some of them were fair, finding me festive favorites as comforting as coco in front of the fireplace. Others were fiendish, wanting to feed off my misery like Gremlins after midnight. Regardless of how naughty or nice my companions were, I’ve compiled all of their suggestions into a makeshift advent calendar! So stay tuned everyday until Christmas to see how badly my buddies can shred what little sanity I have left.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my buddies gave to me...

Wow, this movie is so despised that tumblr doesn't have any GIFs of it. Yup, sounds 'bout right.

Fellow brony Rigby (RigbyH00ves) must’ve thought he was so clever. Ha ha, he chuckled and clucked, that’ll show that geeky giraffe! Nobody can withstand the tinsel-coated turd that is The Christmas Tree! It was banned by the Geneva Convention for being too cruel! If Santa really wanted to punish naughty children, he’d drop a DVD copy of this in their stalking. Chuck Jones died in vain! So how could that nerdy nitwit with the long neck possibly survive this? An evil grin no doubt spread across the sadistic stallion’s face. Yes, that evil equine got the better of me. Or at least he would’ve had I not streamed this Christmas crapshow on my Discord server. Bundled alongside other seasonal stinkers, a fun time was had by all as we mercilessly mocked this animated abomination. So despite my buddy’s best efforts, I actually had fun while watching this infamous fruitcake of a film. The consensus amongst my companions and I was unilateral: this freak’n sucked!

Every aspect of this movie was wrong. Not just bad, wrong. Starting with our story. If you thought the Rat King and Lord Zedd ranked high on the vile scales, you haven’t met Mrs. Mavilda (Helen Quirk)! She’s a wicked woman who mistreats the orphans under her care. Meals consist of gray slop while she dines on bountiful banquets. All their clothes are torn and tattered, save for whenever Mr. Mayor shows up to inspect the premises. That’s when they’re forced into fancy clothes to fool the pitiful politician. Once he hands over the two sacks full of cash he carries on him for some reason, Mavilda immediately strips the two tikes down to their undies. I know this because the camera lingering on their half-naked bodies longer than necessary. Classy! Where’s all that money going, you ask? In the pot at her next poker game. Not only does she gamble with money meant for lonely children, she keeps losing every game! Kenny Rogers once sang you’ve gotta know when to hold’m and when to fold’m. Someone should tell this lady never to touch them. One wonders how she even keeps the lights on if she’s this terrible at Texas Hold ‘Em. Either way, the kids suffer for her crippling addiction. They’re not even allowed to keep a dog they find named Licorice. Not because their cruel caretaker is allergic, she just hates happiness. Saying it’s a hard knock life would be a gross understatement!

What little hope they get comes from a singular pine tree sprouting fourth from the hill in the backyard they’ve named Mrs. Hopewell. In reality this balsam fir is actually Mr. Mavilda, reincarnated after his betrothed butchered and buried his body in the backyard. He had been kind to the kids and had learned of his wife’s embezzling scheme but was sadly powerless to stop her. Now he’s back, hungry for vengeance! Let the snow run red with the blood of his wife! All shall love Hopewell and despair!

Ha, I wish. Nah, it’s just a plant.  An inanimate object. Zero chance of it telling the pipsqueaks to feed it fresh dentist. Still, how freak’n sad is that? Their only companion in this crazy world is a freak’n tree! Really makes Whatsherface’s subplot from Power Rangers feel that much more pointless, doesn’t it? Maybe she should’ve been visited by the Care Bears! Heaven knows they’re not gonna help these kids in actual need.

Instead help arrives in the form of Judy Kindle (Karen Drygas) and her family. Having recently arrived in the small community of Townville, they meet up with Mr. Mayor to ask for a job. Makes perfect sense, obviously. Next time you’re seeking employment, go directly to your local mayor! He assigns Judy’s husband to the coal mine where he effectively disappears from the story. I actually forgot he existed until the very end when he just randomly appears to contribute nothing. They could’ve had him die in the mines and I still wouldn’t have cared. Guy got sidelined by a tree, he should fire his agent! Judy fares better, paired up with a plucky fox to solve a missing mammals case in the big city. Wait, sorry, I was thinking of a far better piece of cartoon content. Of course she and her two children end up at the House of Hopewell. 

Judy immediately ingratiates herself to her young charges by reading stories, packing picnics, helping to hide Licorice, even building a playground around their tree. Granted that must be horrifying for Mrs. Hopewell, having the remains of your dead relatives placed around your body. It’d be like Hannibal Lector giving you a jacket made out of your cousin. Eh, whatever makes the kids happy! She even introduces them to Christmas since apparently they hadn’t heard of it until then. And so, Judy wolves a magical tale of gumdrops and penny-whistles. She told of toy-making elves and flying reindeer. But best of all, she told of the one they call Santa Claus. Granted they kind’a tuned out when Santa’s postman pal was revealed to have been lying this whole time, otherwise they were intrigued! Especially since Mrs. Mavilda never let them have a Holiday before. For as I’m sure I’ve made clear by now, she’s a three triple-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce. 

She’s also a piss-poor poker player. Mr. Mayor, seeing firsthand how well Judy’s handled her duties, delegates more tax payer dollars so she and Mavilda can buy gifts for the rascals. The latter immediately loses it all to a rival that clearly cheated. Lady, what deck of cards feature five aces? I call bull! A mindset mirrored by Judy when she confronts her boss, recovering from a hangover the following morning. Deciding her underling has got to go, she conspires to bury her next to Mr. Mavilda with the aid of Horace and Jasper’s slow cousin, Dennis. By that I mean the dastardly duo plan on planting something on Judy so the cops’ll think she’s a thief. Right, cuz evidence can’t be planted or dusted for fingerprints to prove the poor woman didn’t do it. The orphans, having overheard the sinister scheme, decide they have to find help. Their first option is Mr. Mayor, but none of them know where he lives. Seriously, is this guy the only authority figure in this town? Seeing no other option, our pint-sized protagonists pick the next best thing: Santa Claus! Magnificent little bastards, I’ve read your book! Finding Santa’s super secret workshop up in the North Pole must be easier than finding some rich dude’s mansion!

Unsurprisingly, it's not. One of Judy’s kids, Lilly, almost dies from a bear attack! Looks like the bare necessities got her in the end! Her mother hasn’t time to worry though, Mavilda and Dennis are about to chop Hopewell down! Before the deed can be done, Mr. Mayor drives up and finally notices how crappy the children have been treated. He vows that their tree won’t be touched right as Mavilda makes a break for the chainsaw! Good lord, this woman is wicked! Did nobody hug her when she was younger? How has she not been visited by the Ghosts of Christmas? What does she do in her spare time, punches puppies and kick kittens? She makes Luthor Krank seem charitable in comparison. Somebody stop this lunatic!

Deciding enough is enough, Mrs. Hopewell summons lightning down from the heavens to strike down her foe where she stands! And you all scoffed at my reincarnation theory! May this serve as a warning to all non-believers. Never piss off the pines! Lest you too spend the Holidays in hell!

Pfff, okay, so Mrs. Mavilda doesn’t die. Neither did Lilly. She was saved by a Santa Claus who shouldn’t be near schools! Some sadistic cartoonists spent too much time detailing this freak’s face! Holy crap, if this guy was promoting Coca Cola there’d be a notable uptake in Pepsi drinkers. Meeting this menace wouldn’t make riding the Polar Express worth it at all! I joked before, but is it too late to turn Klaus back on? Thankfully eerie ol’ Saint Nick leaves as soon as he arrives, giving the orphans some much needed new outfits while raining presents down from the sky. As for Mavilda, that bolt scrambled her brains, turning her good because logic is for losers! Judy even hires her on as an assistant, though hopefully not a financial one. Like The Narrator says, you always win if you are good. Are we sure this script wasn’t written by orphans?

Needless to say, the narrative is brainless. Yet like an onion, it’s just one of the many mayors that makes you cry the further you cut into it. There’s also the terrible voice acting. Remember when I insulted the young actors from Care Bears? I apologize to them all, they may as well have been the cast of A Charlie Brown Christmas compared to these tikes. For that they hired legit kids to play the Peanuts gang. Here it sounds like they force-fed dialogue to random kindergarteners before settling for the first take. Granted the adult actors are already abysmal and children aren’t exactly known for always delivering great performances. Really, I feel sorry for any child cast in this crap. I sincerely hope each one of them are living long, fulfilling lives away from show business. Having said that, they still brought great shame onto their households. Every line delivered results in Mel Blanc rolling in his grave. Teacher says everytime this movie’s watched, an angel dies!

Having said all that, the worst aspect by far is the animation. Good lord this special is ugly to look at! Not a lot is known about this picture’s production, save for that it was overseen by acclaimed animator Flamarion Ferreira. His filmography includes He-Man and She-Ra, Pink Panther, Animaniacs, Tiny Toons, Phineas and Ferb, and Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero. You’d think the guy would know how to depict believable movement, lip sync dialogue, or do something as basic as draw engaging expressions. Calling this a cartoon would be an insult to the medium! All the movements are rigid or sudden, no dialogue comes close to syncing up with the mouth movements, and the expressions are what nightmares are made of. Those twin girls haunting the Overlook ain’t got nothing on these orphans! Oh but if you can’t think it can get worse from here, believe me, we’re taking a turn down a different street.

[deyadee]

I haven’t been able to write any posts on my phone recently because I cracked the screen and I just LOVE when companies need to actively fuck up older equipment to force you to buy new phones and shit. I’ve had this phone since my 16th birthday, so yes it might be old but it worked fine for half a year after cracking the bastard. It started with not being able to type specifically the letter E but then it spread across half the fucking keyboard so I can’t type E, D, S, R, X, or C. I have to use the fucking voice command for goddamn everything on it now and it makes doing anything a four fucking hour process. I feel even more lonely than usual because I can’t even go on the discord chat with my two only online friends. 

Anyway, I don’t know what I’ve posted about and I what I haven’t so I’m just going to bitch about everything in order of what I remember not posting.

I spent nearly two months meticulously planning on going to a pride street fair with the cute girl at the front desk and surprisingly she said yes. So over the course of a few weeks I would show up pretty much every day I could find out she was there and ask if everything was still good to go on the meetup. I was so excited, I finally felt like I was worthy, like I finally had a friend or that I wasn’t a complete waste of human meat for once in my pathetic ass life. So, after everything was planned out down to the last detail I showed up the day before we were supposed to go to make sure we were still good... and that’s when reality had to prove to me that no matter what I did I am not destined to have even a fleeting day of happiness. 

She told me that she might not be able to go because of last minute car trouble and just remembering that tomorrow was her mother’s birthday. She said she try to work it out and text me early in the morning the next day. Now, I can understand the car trouble but who the hell forgets their mom’s birthday until literally the day before? SHE LIVES WITH HER MOM. I’m not good with dates either but it all came off as kind of flakey. She did seem genuinely sorry that she couldn’t go but it still had this underlying feeling of “Oh thank god I don’t actually to spend a fucking whole day with you.” I tried to smile and pretend it was alright but when I got home I just fucking broke down. Of course this had to happen. I try to reach out and make a connection, try to make myself not feel like a complete fucking social outcast from people my own age and this is what happens of fucking course. But I still got up and got ready the next day, still grasping to the pathetic delusion that even in the last second something might fucking go right. I called off work two months ahead of time. I planned all this out. This piece of shit event had to be at least somewhat fair to me right?

She said she couldn’t go. So my parents offered to drop me off so I could go by myself. And boy, is it really fun to look around and see all the happy fucking couples and people having fun with their friends while I’m creeping around trying to pretend I’m on the same social level as all these people. I was overwhelmed at first but got used to it, and anytime I got near anyone who wasn’t trying to sell me some stupid shit I was looked at either like I was a hideous sweating fucking pig parading herself around for all to see at the church picnic or like I was some creepy dude in his forties trying to sniff girl’s hair. I bought some earrings and hung out, but it just was a subtle reminder that I’m not like other girls of my age. I’m not getting a partner, going out to events, and figuring out how I want to make a difference in this shit world- I am an ugly repulsive wall of blubber leeching off of her parents and drowning her self-pity in children’s media and whatever shit I can shove down my fucking throat. 

I felt a bit better afterwards because my dad asked me to go with my family to this restaurant to meet this family that goes to my little sister’s dance studio. He particularly wanted me to go because he said the dad was annoying and said all this shit about how shitty and rude LGBT people are for whatever reason and how he’d “beat the shit out of them if they ever tried that shit on him.” So I of course was like “Yes, I would love to.”

Which, nothing was more funny than when I walked in, wearing a rainbow shirt, rainbow hat, rainbow scrunchie, and asexual/gay pride bracelets and just saw him nervously look me up and down. I noticed he tried to avoid any conversation whatsoever with me, and how any time my dad would say anything about me he’d look away. It was even more fun to give his daughter (who was really sweet btw) a pink bottle of bubbles that I got from the pride street fair. 

That happened a while ago, but why did I particularly want to make a post today? Well it was a bit of a story.

I just remember seeing a cute redhead with glasses and knowing I had to talk to her. We spent all night talking and though she was a bit more of a hipster than my kind of style, it was like we were meant for each other. I couldn’t look away when she was in the room and the hours we spent together felt like seconds. At the very end of it all we sat at the foot of my bed, holding hands, and we leaned in towards each other and... I woke up. 

It was all a dream. All a fucking dream. She felt like the greatest thing to happen to me. It felt so real. When I woke up I genuinely thought we were going to spend another day together. Until I realized that I need to turn off my alarm and go to work. She never existed. I was never even slightly appealing to even the lowest common denominator, let alone someone like her who felt like she was ripped right from a movie... which I mean basically she was. I kept trying to think about her, but more and more details were slipping away. I couldn’t remember her name. I didn’t know how we met. Yet, I couldn’t feel sad because I could still feel her warmth on me, her cold hands. The feeling she left within me. Even when I knew she wasn’t real I couldn’t stop smiling. Even now I can’t even process that she doesn’t exist. I’d rather believe her to be dead than to think we never crossed paths. She made me feel like I was the most special person in the world. That every tiny detail of this fucking shithole world isn’t built just to make us suffer. She made not even question that life was worth living, that every horrible thing that happened was worth it as long as we had this moment to be together.  I can’t even think of other people now, all I can think of is her. I miss her, yet she’ll never come home.

I heard this story on one of the thousand Youtube videos I watch everyday where this guy got knocked out and lived an entire life with having a wife and two kids until he noticed that this lamp didn’t look right and he eventually realized everything in his past seven years of life was fake. He went through a deep depression knowing that his family never existed. I wouldn’t say mine is anywhere near as extreme but, I can’t help feel like I actually spent that day with her. I still feel that comfort she left me with like everything in the world was alright. I’ve never felt like this with anyone else, and now I’m scared I’ll never feel it again. But this is still not why I made this post.

I tried to ignore it for the rest of the day and about ten minutes before I got off of work I had nearly forgotten, when this group of three girls came up to checkout. They had streamers, plates, table covers, regular stuff for a party so I asked what kind of party it was for. They said “Oh, we’re just grabbing a few things to surprise our friend for her 21st birthday we’re gonna take her out!” and something in me just cracked because all I could say was “Oh that’s great.” and try to check them out as fast as possible. These girls in front of me were 21. These cute girls having the time of their lives on the beach with their friends is what the average girl would be doing at this point in their lives. So what am I doing? Obsessing over a girl I had to dream up to cope with a lack of affection and attention. Working at a fucking dollar store. Still no college classes. Living with my parents. Still not a fucking clue what to do with my life besides wallow and cry over the fucking waifu I never had. Guess my fucking neckbeard status is complete. I’m fucking sitting in my bedroom, typing for nearly an hour and a half now, full on fucking weeping because I’m fucking pathetic and so goddamn irredeemable in every fucking way that I’m dreaming of girls. It’s so fucking fun to be idealistic and want to hope that things will get better and that all people deserve love and all that hippie shit but I just have to face it. “Certain girls are meant to be alone” 

Why can’t I build an endless dream where I can be confident? Where I can have her, and she can have me? Where I can finally be happy and not just questioned why I too lazy and too much of a pussy to just fucking do it already? I’m an atheist, but I’d rather take my chances in possibly finding an afterlife with her than staying here for another forty years until I die of a heart attack from eating myself to death and reluctantly marrying some shitbag abusive stain of goddamn man because I think I have no other fucking option. I’d rather die now just to have the chance to see her again than suffer a slow miserable death that the average hideous woman calls a life. Give me strength to take me there. Give me just one last moment with her again. I can’t do this anymore.

[umichenginabroad]

Burn it. Did I say stand there and look stupid? No. I said BURN IT.

* for everyone that doesn’t know what the title is, its a tiktok haha

Las Fallas. Ridiculous. Actually had no idea what to expect and was not prepared at all. I'll try to set the scene:

For some context, Las Fallas is a festival in Valencia on the last Sunday in February to commemorate Saint Joseph. It is a week-long event to celebrate each neighborhood's year-long work of making a construction called a 'falla,' which consists of several 'ninots' (a Valencian word for puppets). On the last Sunday of February, 'La Crema' occurs, where each of these fallas are burned. A year's worth of work burned!! I learned about the event in my Spanish culture class and was hyped up by a bunch of Spaniards who apparently all love to go to Valencia during this time. 

I also booked this trip two days before on a whim. It was organized with this event planning group that partners with the school and was 40 euros for the bus ride there and back. 

Storytime: 

We leave the buses at 9 am and get off at 1:30 pm. The drivers announce that La Mascleta is happening at 2. We don't know what that is. But it's a 20 min walk. And so we should run. By the way, I've just woken up, so I'm very disoriented already. We are speedwalking to this plaza when we finally run into the crowd. The clock hits 2. We are around the corner from the plaza and can't fully see it. Then the loudest 'boom' sounds start going off, and smoke starts filling the air. 

Anyways, we found out this celebration called 'La Mascleta' happens every day during Las Fallas at 2 pm, where they set off fireworks and smoke at the town hall plaza. Look up pictures- it's ridiculous.

After La Mascleta, we get breakfast and start walking around the city, looking at the beautiful fallas every few blocks. The detail in these sculptures is just incredible, and many of them are satirical in nature as well. 

We head next to the parade. We are lined up on the street, waiting around the corner of the start. A small drum line emerges, and we are a bit underwhelmed, thinking, 'this is it?'. Then we hear what sounds like an ambulance. People start running around the corner in devil costumes with fireworks strapped to their heads, moving in a circular motion and spraying into the crowd. Honestly, I have no idea how this was legal or safe, but it was crazy. 

I would describe the burnings of a couple of other fallas, but the one you need to hear about is the 'Big Falla':

Finally, the Big Falla. We are in the plaza across from the falla, and the clock hits 11. For a second time paused, and it didn't seem like the celebration was starting. Then an incredible fireworks display started, and we knew the time was coming. After one of the best fireworks shows I've seen in a while, everything goes dark. Then the fireworks spark around the Big Falla, and the crowd goes CRAZY. The Big Falla lights up with fire. It was kind of scary how suddenly the fire began and how ridiculously big it was. I could literally feel the heat standing so far away, so I couldn't imagine how hot it must have been for the people in the front. 

After the fire ended and the firefighters doused it, people started singing the anthem and celebrating. We pushed our way out of the crowd and headed back to our buses after a quick pit stop at Mcdonald's. 

Of course, 450 kids after 12 hours of celebrating was not going to be organized, and we barely made it on our bus after everyone mobbed them. We left around 2 am and got back at 6:30 after a long ride of someone snoring behind me and the AC blasting at full strength. 

I've never experienced as much chaos in a short amount of time. It feels like a fever dream, and I still need to sleep some off, but wow. What an experience. 

See you next week with Rania 2.0 (aka Priya, my sister, haha) and me in Granada and Sevilla!

Rania Uppal

Computer Science

UP Comillas - Madrid Spain

[saphirered]

Hi! If you’re taking requests could you write a Mollymauk x Reader where they’re really close friends and he calls her a bunch of cute nicknames but then Molly notices that she starts getting really dejected or just leaves when he starts talking to new people and she ends up confessing that it’s because she’s fallen for him and doesn’t like to be around when he’s calling other random strangers “darling” and “love”? Thank you!!!

Hope you enjoy! 😘

-

When you were walking down the streets in search for a place to stay the night Molly had pulled you along by your arm wrapping it around his, proudly parading around like he usually does, the Nein following his lead, some of them definitely not keeping their opinions to themselves watching you two go. Of course these comments are simply met with a laugh and a kiss to your temple, words whispered in your ear to make you blush. The red creeping up your cheeks as you shoot a glance backwards are usually enough to make those comments from Beau at least to stop. Jester, the hopeless romantic she is will just squeal and take out here sketchbook to capture this moment in detail.

Inn found, the place is nice and cozy but also a bit more pricy than the group had hoped. That’s an easy task for Mollymauk Tealeaf to fix. He lets go of your arm when you reach the bar, the others behind and leans on the counter top on his elbows biting his tongue and giving an innocent half smile letting the pointed canines show in all their glory as he bats his eyelashes.

“Are you sure you can’t give us a special deal? We’re taking four rooms already. Some of us will already share but I don’t particularly enjoy sleeping on the floor. Do you think you’d have a better offer, handsome.” Molly winks at the barkeep who, admittedly isn’t bad on the eyes is also taken aback by the tiefling’s blatant advances. So much so he stutters on offering a decent discount as Molly reaches out brushing his hand over the exposed lower arm of the barkeep who’s more bothered by being seen by his other patrons than the tiefling’s gestures. Molly’s enjoying every second of this as is clear by the attitude he carries, the grin on his face and the mischievous look in his eyes and he’s so caught up in his act he doesn’t notice you excuse yourself taking one of the keys and rushing off to one of the rooms.

“You’re a darling. Thank you so much for your generosity.” That’s the last you hear as you watch Molly lean in over the bar a little closer and the barkeep blushes wildly. With a shake of your head and boiling blood you walk up the stairs, enter the room and slam the door closed behind you dropping yourself onto the bed face buried into the pillow and let out a scream of frustration to be muffled by the the pillow.

It takes a good fifteen minutes of Molly flirting with the barkeep to also get a discount on meals and drinks for the night. He’d gladly sacrifice his time, not only because they’re running short on money and need the coin but also because he generally likes to mess with people and it was so easy. He had the barkeep a stuttering mess in seconds. That’s something to be proud of isn’t it? Either way he prides himself for it. Nevermind, the others are settled at a table, drinks poured but one’s missing. You’re missing. Where did you go? Molly looks around the tavern but doesn’t see you. He doesn’t miss a beat sending a wink to the barkeep when they make eye contact but returns his attention to the Nein.

“The pretty one, where did she go?” Molly asks.

“I’m right here Molly. Or am I not pretty enough for you?” Beau snorts slamming back her drink. She knows fully well he means you and she won’t miss an opportunity to tease the tiefling now she’s got ammo. She’ll play this game any day.

“The annoying one, that’s what you are.” Molly replies as Beau sticks out her tongue and takes the drink Jester slipped to her for seconds. Two drinks right after arrival? That does not bode well for the night… for Beau. He, however will have plenty of entertainment provided by the monk once she starts a drunken bar fight. At least they won’t be the ones getting kicked out. He’s got that barkeep in his pocket.

“Fuck you too, Mollymauk.” Beau grumbles into her tankard.

“I think she went upstairs to settle in but she’s not come back yet. Should we save her a drink?” Jester speaks as she holds back a unclaimed tankard from Nott the Brave who’s already done with her own.

“That’s alright. Thank you, Jester, for providing a useful answer to my previous question.” Beau shakes her head at Molly’s words but holds her tongue as Jester allows Nott to take the remaining tankard and before Beau can claim his, he slides it across the table over to Nott who defends it like there’s no tomorrow. Beau flips him off as he goes upstairs with a laugh.

Opening the door to your room without knocking Mollymauk sees you face down on the bed, belongings discarded at the foot of the bed. For a moment he considers you might just have tossed yourself onto the bed and allowed the exhaustion of the journey to overtake you but your breathing doesn’t match that of your sleeping form. Molly sneaks up to the foot of the bed and wraps an arm around your ankle yanking it. He’s met with a yelp and before he knows it he’s struck in the face with a pillow. When it drops to the floor he sees you sitting up arms crossed. You’re not as amused as he is with his antics. Weird. Usually you’d have laughed or retaliated with a witty remark before you both would be laughing. Now you’re glaring at him.

“What’s got you in such a foul mood, darling?” He asks as clearly you’re not just going to reveal the answer of your own volition because you felt like it. You bite your tongue holding back a comment so instead he sits next to you on the edge of the bed, facing you arm leaning on your raised knees and for just a moment your expression softens. Okay, so you’re not angry at him for something. That’s good. At least he knows he won’t be at the receiving end of your wrath.

“Nothing.” You mutter. Why is hit when his stupid face walks into the room you just forget why you were upset in the first place. Well, you know why but the feelings still disappears, that little voice in the back of your head saying it’s a stupid reason anyway.

“Clearly it’s something, love. You know you can tell me anything, right?” Molly doesn’t feel the need to tease or even try to do something, anything to lift your spirits or make you laugh. This isn’t something that’s simply laughed off. This is something that needs words first.

“I know.” You nod but you don’t move to say anything and just let yourself fall backwards onto the bed wiping your face letting out a disgruntled sigh. You still keep your knees raised providing the support for Molly’s current position and look up at him. The jovial and smug attitude is gone and replaced by one of calm and a hint of worry. He pats your thigh waiting, giving you a moment to seek for the right words or response, anything really.

“It’s stupid. Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get over myself.” You offer him a weak smile but Molly doesn’t buy it. You don’t have him convinced for a second and you know you don’t when he gives you a look pressing you to be truthful. Stupid stupid stupid. Why did he have to have such a hold over you? Stupid feelings.

“It’s not stupid to me and I do worry.” It’s very few times Molly drops the act and allows his words to sound like the most genuine thing in the world. There’s no attempt of persuasion, or sweet-talking. There’s no blunt honesty but a careful one, approaching this as if you’re slipping through his fingers like sand. So that’s here you can’t stop yourself from clinging onto whatever you had. Better rip the bandaid off quickly and maybe he’ll let you down gently.

“I like you. I like you a lot. And whenever you’re flirting with strangers you come across like you do with me I just feel like I’m nothing more than a stranger to you.” Molly takes in your words and his expression remains gentle to the point where you can���t gleam anything but that off it. There’s no response like you expected. No surprise or discontent. You’d hoped he wouldn’t have laughed at you and at least he didn’t but you don’t know if you’re happier with the gentle smile he offers you as it literally doesn’t steer you in any direction. It just leaves you waiting.

Mollymauk’s not surprised by your words. He had suspected for a while but it’s not his place to assume. Sure when the attraction is only physical and never intended to be something of the longer term, it’s easy and fun to mess around with but you weren’t just physically attracted nor was this the short term kind of thing when it came to your feelings as these develop over time, not in a brief moment. So he dared not assume. It’s risky territory for him as he’s had few lasting long term relationships, even less so the ones build on genuine mutual feelings. He’s in no way uncomfortable with your feelings, or his own for that matter but he’s more careful because he’s pretty sure he’d have more success navigating a journey across thin ice, or a death drop below.

“Just say something. Do anything. Please. I can’t bear the silence.” You beg as Molly realises he might have zoned out a little longer than he intended to but when it takes him even longer to shake himself out of it you let your knees drop and making him lose his balance and fall upon your legs. That’s enough to snap him out of it.

“Very funny, love.” He deadpans as he sits back up again, releasing your legs allowing you to do the same and hug your knees leaning your cheek on top of it. Anticipation is clear within your eyes as he hasn’t given you any reaction to your confession just yet.

“Do anything you said?” The unreadable expression returns but his fingers slip beneath your face and gently lift it up. You await his next move not daring to hope where this is going and not moving beyond where Molly guided you to. He looks you in the eyes searching for any hesitation or move to back away but when you don’t offer him one beyond the anticipation he leans in pressing his lips to yours.

“You could never be a stranger. And I don’t know what I’ve done to lead you to believe so but take my word when I tell you I promise you I’ll spend every day of my life reminding you you’ll never be a stranger to me.” Molly’s words hit home and you know he’s someone who lives in the moment but you also know this is real and his words are genuine.

“Now if that means, you want me to stop flirting with barkeeps, and merchants to get some hefty discounts I will, for your sake.” He grins pecking your lips once more

“I’m pretty sure the others will kill me if you do. So best not?” You smile. Molly chuckles. Strangely, that’s all you needed to hear. Maybe your jealousy wasn’t stemmed from the tiefling’s blatant flirting with everyone and everything because you’ve always known Molly to be a flirt, even long before your feelings for him developed. It was just your own insecurities and doubts getting in your way and those were severely discredited by Molly’s words; ‘you’ll never be a stranger to me.’

“Best not then. That barkeep is a handsome one. Could be fun, darling?” Molly taps his chin as if considering and you slap his shoulder. You know he’s just teasing you so when he grabs the hand that hit at him you grab the pillow near your legs and smack him with it. Before you can swing a second time, the two of you giggling like idiots, Molly grabs the pillow throwing it behind you at the head of the bed and uses your held hand to pull you into a deep kiss.

The door swings open and in comes Beauregard, her backpack slung over her shoulder, staff in hand and just groans loudly at the kissing pair on one of the beds. She rolls her eyes disgruntled.

“Fjord! We’re gonna be roommates! Don’t fight me on this!” Beau shouts as she slams the door closed and goes over to a different room to drop her things. Fuck, she needs another drink. Despite everything she can’t fight the smile from slipping onto her lips. She’d known it was a long time coming but you finally having gotten over yourselves and having found some happiness brought her that smile to her face. Not like she’d ever admit it. And now she’s just gotten another thing to tease Molly about. She can already feel the comebacks and witty remarks form in her mind. Prepare yourself Tealeaf.

[babydaddyleorio]

Going to pride with them

since today is the last day of pride month, here’s some headcanons over how these characters would act at pride

Itadori 

-Itadori is super excited to go to pride because he genuinely wants to show his support and learn new things about the community.

-He is legit decked out in a rainbow shirt along with a ton of colorful necklace beads and vibrant face paint drawn across his face.

-Itadori just has the biggest smile on his face as his eyes take in all the lively surroundings around him. He’s waving a tiny flag around in his hands while cheering loudly when he notices that everyone else is as well. 

-People would start to sense Itadori’s enthusiasm to be here right now, so Itadori has a lot of people who come up to him and give him things such as flower crowns, glasses, and pins. There are also people who would call him over and start dancing with him to the music playing loudly on the speakers.

-He’s complimenting everyone’s fashion as he walks by them and somehow finds himself taking pictures with a lot of random strangers.

-He’s listening intently to the stories and experiences of others when they’re giving speeches and he slowly starts to become educated of the history and significance of this festival. By the end of the day, Itadori appreciates and acknowledges how important pride month is to many people and will now have such an happy memory forever ingrained in his head.

Megumi

-Megumi has been with Gojo to pride a few times already, so now it’s kind of become a tradition to come to the parade and show his support as well.

-Megumi definitely has a bookbag with sooo many pins stuck on it and they are all covered with the flags of the different identities within the community.

-He also really likes the food there. Megumi has a specific dish that he gets every time he comes to pride and the second he gets a hold to it, he’s legit melting at the taste that fills his mouth.

-Megumi isn’t really loud like everyone else, but he’s still vibing with the energy. He likes to nod his head to the beat of songs playing and will watch the performers along the street with a grin on his face.

-He also will occasionally get hit on by different people and although he’s flattered, he’d most likely turn them down and would speed-walk away with a blush on his cheeks.

-Megumi brought along a camera as well and will randomly snap pictures or record videos of the festival throughout the day. He loves documenting everything and once he’s back home, he’d make a CD and would put it with the rest of the ones from previous years.

Nobara

-She’s already a bit fruity so she fits right in.

-Nobara’s outfit would be so cute, honestly. She’d be wearing frayed shorts, a mesh crop top with a bralette underneath, and combat boots to finish the look. 

-She also has her hair in space buns and colorful eyeshadow for her makeup.

-10/10 we love to see it.

-Nobara also dragged Maki along with her because the gays have to stick together.

-She would also be ready to beat anybody’s ass that has the audacity to say something out of pocket to her or anyone else in the vicinity of her.

-Thinks that all the girls are absolutely gorgeous and will be shooting compliments their way or hyping them up when she sees them.

-She buys a lot of clothes from the different stores and vendors, and of course makes Itadori carry them so she can go take pictures with Maki.

-Also has a large rainbow flag that’s she’s waving around as she skips through the streets.

-Loves going to the concerts. She’s dancing wildly in her spot, would probably sit on top of someone’s shoulders to get a better view, and loud laughs would tumble out of her mouth as she surfs the crowd. 

-She’s having such an amazing time and will definitely come back next year.

Gojo 

-Gojo is 100% the life of the party.

-This is not his first pride, In fact, he’s come so many times that people literally already recognize his face and are waving and calling his name as he walks by.

-Like everyone loves him. 

-And unlike Megumi, Gojo is flirting back with people relentlessly and matching their energy. He probably will go home with somebody tonight as well, who knows with him.

-He has on a rainbow thong underneath his clothes and thinks the wedgie he gets from it is just him feeling the spirit.

-Gojo is at the front of everyone marching and shouting through his megaphone about how important and amazing this festival is.

-He’s also drinking and has one of those really tall cups around his neck that he’s constantly refilling with liquor. Gojo is normally not one to drink, but he figured that he could let loose a little since today was a day to celebrate.

-Somehow gets on one of the parade floats and just starts dancing terribly. He’s calling your name and pointing at you in the crowd, making a heart with his hands as he screams the lyrics to Starships at the top of his lungs.

[vintagegoddess12]

Books and Basements (1)

Relationship: Agatha Harkness x Reader; Wanda Maximoff x Vision

Summary: What happens when our curious-somewhat-evil witch finds someone who is as curious as her?

A/N: A month ago I promised a Librarian!Reader who can go toe-to-toe with our dear Agatha and here it is. Enjoy this one <3 Also avaialble in ao3. 

1

Today is a good day in Westview.

Agatha walked out of her house with a little more pep in her step. She feels it in her three centuries-old bones. Something tells her that this day, just like her, has a few more tricks up their sleeve. She bites her lip as she sees the townspeople go about their day, totally oblivious about the new happenings in the WandaVision household.

It was only this morning when she watched their two new babies turn themselves into five-year-olds. Advanced aging. Well, that’s a trick. Every witch and wizard she has met has only one goal: to stay as youthful as ever. 

Not Wanda’s kids, I suppose.

Taking after their mother, breaking the natural order seemed natural with those kiddos. She spent the entire noon locked in her basement, curious as to what more curveballs her witch neighbor is going to throw her way. She likes a challenge and that family just might be it for this century. 

Her hips continue to sway more than ever as she reaches the Vision residence. With the intention of spending more time with the new offsprings, she knocks on their door with a prepared speech on how she can take their dog for a walk. She smirks inside; maybe the dog can do the biting for her. 

The only magic-wielding redhead opened the door, surprised to see her friend thrice - Thrice? That doesn’t sound right - in a day. “Agnes, what can I do for you?” Wanda chirped as she welcomes her inside.

“More like, what I can do for you, doll,” the mother of two shot her a curious look as she continued, “I’m here to walk Sparky!”

“Oh Agnes, that’s not necessary. The boys can take care of that after dinner.” Wanda smiled and looked behind her, probably eyeing where her little beings are. 

Putting on her over-the-top facial expressions, Agatha shrugged off her statement and replied, “and leave them alone in the dark? No can do, sweet cheeks.” The image of her kids in an unsafe situation immediately placed Wanda in unease. “Besides, they can walk with me. Give Auntie Agnes some quality time with your cute boys,” her voice now dripping with sweet concern.

Agnes does sound right, Wanda thought. She’s been nothing but a helpful figure in their lives. She supposes the boys can bond with her and get her friend away from the household liquor. The young avenger felt a pang of guilt run through her though. It’s such a waste that she had a friend like her here - in a place where everything is not real and lies fuel every goddamn street. 

Before the two witches can continue their chat, a burst of enthusiastic laughter erupted from their backyard. Their head followed the sound and saw Vision having an engaging discussion with a new character - no - neighbor - no. Stranger. 

Agatha watched as an unfamiliar face emerged with the deceased Avenger from their veranda to their living room. She observed as the woman held her own against a literal android while they’re debating about, from what she can hear, the universe. 

“I’m just saying if there is enough dark matter out in space,” your voice reaching the older witch, making her lean more, “its gravitational pull can eventually lead to the universe collapsing in itself.”

Vision walked beside you as he replies, “yes but that theory hangs to the idea that space has enough dark matter in it.”

You both continue to walk towards the front door, still engrossed in your dialogue. “It’s totally possible. A lot of supernatural things are happening in our universe.” 

“Name one.”

You halted and took a beat as the man dared you. Surprised with the challenge, you look to your right while thinking for an answer. 

“I don’t know. Ghosts?” Vision quizzically looked at you. “Dead people coming back to life.” You both laughed, not noticing how the statement made the matriarch of the house uncomfortable. After all, she was one of those supernatural things.

With her previous conversation long forgotten, Agatha took an interest in the sight before her. She doesn’t remember seeing you from their previous episodes. Or elsewhere for that matter. She’s pretty certain a face like that is memorable. Maybe Wanda was just keeping you away and brought you out only when there’s a character for you. 

Such a waste. Pretty little thing like you should be paraded. Hell, worshipped even. 

Agatha had to physically clear her throat to put a stop to her thoughts. You and Vision looked at their way, your gaze landing on the ladies by the door. A smile spread across your face as you approached.

“Ah, Agnes!” Vision leads the way and asked, “what brings you here?”

Wanda straightened up and answered for her friend, not that Agatha minds. “She’s here to walk the dog and the kids, dear.” Her husband nodded. “By the way, Agnes, this is [y/n],” you offered your hand as you’re being introduced and the raven-haired woman did the same, “and this is Agnes.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” your attention now solely on the witch. Agatha tried to ignore the shocks your hand sent to her spine after you shook hands. Nobody makes her shiver unless she allows them to. And you’re not allowed - yet. 

“Oh, believe me, honey, the pleasure is all mine,” she punctuated the statement with a wink. If she’s affected, might as well make you blush too. A hint of red formed in your cheeks, noticeable but not quite. The witch took that as a success. 

With your hand still in hers, she pulled you closer. “Now tell me, Wanda, dear. Have you been hiding this gal from Dottie and me?” She looked at her confused friend. 

“She’s actually Vision’s friend,” she replied. Her husband then added, “yes. We met in the library during one of our meetings.”

You retreated your hand, amused by all the attention around you. “I’m the assistant librarian there, which surprisingly can be very busy.” You chuckled a little bit, hiding the confusion regarding your workload. Is it really that busy? It seems that you don’t even remember how you got that gig. “That’s why I can’t attend those meetings.”

“A working gal, I see.” A bewitching smile formed across Agnes’ face that did not go unnoticed by the married homeowners.

Agatha watched as your eyes widened at the statement and immediately observed the sky outside. “Speaking of,” you said turning your attention back at the three people in front of you, “I have to finish some filing in the library. The guards can be very snarky when I close the place too late.” They all laughed which you took as a sign to bid farewell. 

The older witch eyed how you reached for Vision’s arm and said, “thank you for that very wonderful conversation.” A small ball of heat forming in her chest. “Also, Wanda,” the Sokovian avenger lit up as if getting out of her own thoughts, “those cookies you served are heavenly.” 

Wanda waved her hand and replied, “those are actually from Agnes,” your attention now on their neighbor. “She brings us baked goods every time she bakes from her house down the street.”

“Well then let me give credit where credit is due,” your hands now landing on her arm. “Those cookies are delish.” Your sweet voice ringing in Agatha’s ear. 

“Well, sweetie, why don’t I walk you to the library so I can share my secret ingredient?” The older witch was confused about how a simple gal like you can rearrange her priorities without even meaning to. 

“Agnes, aren’t you going to walk the dog with the twins?” Wanda’s reminder almost made the witch frown. 

“I just think our [y/n] here needs a little introduction to our social circle,” she replied without taking her eyes off of you. 

Wanda knew better than to get in between Agnes and the gossips, she wasn’t cast as the nosy neighbor for nothing after all. She bid farewell to the two of you, saying don’t hesitate to come back whenever.

You, on the other hand, kept looking elsewhere trying to avoid the intense stare of your new acquaintance. Your mind is still focused on the awaiting work in your office. 

You started to leave with Agnes in tow. She just wouldn’t budge with her offer. It took a little more convincing on your part though but something tells you no one says no to Agnes, or is it Wanda? You’re not sure honestly. Something isn’t right about this, yet you try to ignore it.

Meanwhile, a certain ancient book shrouded with yellow mists of magic started glowing wildly. The traces of power started hitting the concrete walls as if looking for a way out. 

Today is the beginning of the end for Westview.

[dontcallmecarrie]

continuation of this, because why not:

.

“Oh, this is fun,” Loki hadn’t realized just how irritating his voice could get until now, was this why the Soldier kept throwing knives at him? 

“I am only dragging you along because our interests align for now, do not expect this to continue.” He snapped over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for any potential attack even as the alarms continued to blare. He was lucky his counterpart was in such poor shape; had he even had a fraction of his usual power available, this entire enterprise would be much, much more difficult. 

As it was, Loki was faintly impressed his counterpart had accomplished as much as he had when he was running on fumes. When he wasn’t sneering at the sloppiness of his plans, anyway. Magical compulsion or no, what kind of idiot went and paraded about proclaiming their intentions for subjugation?

“Come now. Do you honestly expect me to believe this isn’t to your advantage? Unleashing double the chaos.” 

It was a pity breaking the magical compulsion had done nothing for his counterpart’s mental state. On a number of levels— he was a stone’s throw away from madness, all jagged pieces aimed outwards and it was uncomfortable to look at for too long for reasons Loki preferred not to dwell upon. 

Well. At least he could use it to his advantage. 

.

Victor was not a happy camper. 

First had been the discovery that, as he’d suspected, that damn gun had landed him in another universe. 

Second, said universe was quite possibly his worst nightmare.

Because his country didn’t exist, hadn’t existed for decades now: the Latverian civil war in this world had decimated its people in more ways than could be named, neighboring countries had snapped up just about every scrap of territory his men had fought and died for and goddamn HYDRA was using war orphans for their experiments.

...had he been a bit hasty when he’d taken out the first base he’d encountered? Sure. Sorting out the logistics for taking care of all the victims he’d encountered was a major pain in the neck, and this accelerated his plans for establishing himself in ways he hadn’t entirely expected. Klaue was as annoying as ever, and, if possible, even more of an arrogant bastard to deal with in this strange world.

Did Victor regret it? Absolutely not.

Especially when it resulted in his encountering his first ally in this hellscape. 

...though this ‘involuntary twin’ thing would get old fast, he just knew it.

“Hello, Winter.” Victor greeted with a smile. “Looks like you’ve been busy, too.”

.

The Winter Soldier could not believe that Justin’s stupid self-help books had been good for something, but here they were.

Him, and the poor bastard who shared his face and was now stuck in that incredibly awkward stage between ‘living weapon approximately three seconds from Murder’ and ‘going through deprogramming’, smack-dab in the middle of what had used to be a HYDRA stronghold but was now a bloodbath because somewhere in between fighting himself, and everyone else coming at them, the other Winter Soldier had started breaking through his programming.

He hadn’t realized just how much progress he’d made, until now. 

“What do you want me to call you?” He asked again with a tired sigh.

“The Asset does not nee—”

“Oh, fuck no. Pick something else, you’re a human being, you have value.” ...goddamn it, he sounded just like Justin. 

Ugh. Justin could never, ever know, he’d never let him live it down...okay, the worst part is that he would, not that the idiot with a death wish needed any encouraging when it came to this sort of thing.

The man’d had a knife to the neck, and still offered him food, offered him help. The Winter Soldier gave his counterpart a dubious glance, and fought back a shudder. 

As much as he sympathized with the guy— he’d been there, literally— the idea gave him chills.

Though...he could almost see it, now. If he squinted, he could see the tiniest speck of self-determination that HYDRA had tried its best to crush into oblivion, the ghost of a hint of personality in the twitch of his right hand, the way his left hand curled. 

“Right, okay.” He sighed. Again. He probably sounded like a goddamn teakettle, but fuck it, he was at the end of his rope here, dealing with people was Justin’s thing, he was much better at punching people. “If you’re anything like me, you’re going to have some serious migraines in the next few months, and no, aspirin doesn’t do shit. You have questions, means your personality’s coming back up which is good... oh, you’ll probably want to stick around for answers because I’m about as confused as you are.” 

Because this is what happened the one (1) time he tried to be nice and check up on Justin’s friend group. He could’ve been chasing down that lead in Argentina, but no, he was stuck here instead. 

Ugh. 

.

Ivan was running on spite, caffeine, and not much else. 

Living on the streets was a pain in the ass, exacerbated by the fact that he was apparently supposed to be dead and...buried? Cremated? He wasn’t entirely sure, none of the sources he’d found had been able to specify and to be completely honest, he hadn’t tried too hard to look.

Just seeing his own name in the articles had been disturbing enough, the realization that a version of him had apparently gone through with his suicidal plot was...something. Not great. His vodka stash back home was going to take a hit as soon as he got back. 

As disturbing as reading his own death had been, it’d still been no match for what he’d been able to find on the man who’d given him another reason to live. 

Because this world’s Justin Hammer was still alive and well, and locked up in an unspecified supermax for the foreseeable future, and...

An incompetent idiot with far more money than brains, apparently.

Which was so far from the man he knew it was hilarious, because Justin’s charisma had been enough to get a dictator of a sovereign nation wrapped around his finger without even trying, had the boogeyman of the intelligence world on speed-dial and an alien god as his bodyguard-slash-PA. He was untouchable on a number of levels, so when Ivan had first read that article?

He hadn’t believed it, at first. 

Had been certain it was an imposter, and while he probably should’ve spent that time researching how to get back home, he’d instead ended up down a rabbit hole of what kind of man Justin Hammer was in this world.

Call it morbid curiosity, or whatever— but Ivan had to know.

It wasn’t like he was making much progress on his own, anyway, not when his resources were staggeringly limited.

And then. 

A sleek car pulled up by the overpass where he’d been sleeping, and the window rolled down to reveal a face Ivan was inordinately glad to see. 

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping.” Loki called, and Ivan didn’t even question why there were two of him. Or why his twin looked like a grad student during finals week.

“Mean Girls? Really?”

“He was correct in calling it a classic.” Loki replied with a haughty sniff as he pulled away from the curb. “Besides— from what I’ve seen, I also know more about this world’s culture than their Captain.”

His twin looked lost, as he stared between them both and whoops, that was probably a terrible first impression. “Is this one of your allies?”

“Yes.” Ivan said, even as Loki spoke.

“When he’s not blasting us all to other dimensions, certainly.” 

“It was an accident!”

It was a good thing Loki had so much practice driving, because he would have gotten very nervous by the way their eyes met in the rearview mirror otherwise. “Oh, I know. I’ve told you—”

“There is no innovation without risk—” Ivan defended, only for Loki to snort.

“Have fun explaining that to Victor.” 

Ivan froze for a moment, breath stilling in his throat. On a good day, Victor was the epitome of a type-A personality...

“He’s here too?”

“Oh, yes. Not sure where exactly, but how do you think we found you?”

“If you say magic—”

“Are all your allies mortals?” Loki’s twin asked with just the slightest hint of a sneer, and just like that all levity was gone and Ivan didn’t even need to meet Loki’s gaze to know his answer.

“If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave. Right now.”

“Come now—”

“Ivan here blasted us all across space and time, without tearing open any paradoxes or destroying any timelines, entirely by accident. Victor? Is the ruler of a sovereign nation feared and respected throughout the realm. I do not know your approach to such things here, but any insult to my allies is an insult to me.”

.

Ivan...probably shouldn’t have been too surprised to discover that Victor had not only amassed a following of rabidly loyal minions, but also managed to meet up with the Winter Soldier. Er... two Winter Soldiers.

Man, this was going to feature in his nightmares for months.

“Where’s Justin?” Was the very first thing Victor said upon seeing them, and he cringed as the rest traded looks because of course the one who’d introduced them to each other was the missing link now. Justin was hands-down everyone’s favorite, and if Ivan was stuck being the one to break it to them after having spent hours hacking just to get a name?

Man, this was not going to be pretty.

“First, you have to promise not to get mad.”

“What.”

Ivan told them.

...suffice it is to say, nobody was happy to hear the answer.

.

“Okay then.” Victor said, face impassive save for the way his eyes gleamed. “It’s been a while since I did a prison break, anyway.”

[dixie12]

secret!sub!jonny, and pat finally finds out!

Jonny is acting weird. Like, really weird. They won the cup less than three weeks ago- Jonny should barely be sober, should be reaping the rewards of captaining the team to a second cup: free drinks, the admiration of the entire city, and the bevy of subs quite literally throwing themselves at his feet whenever he steps out of his front door. And sure, Jonny had seemed to enjoy it all for the first week or so, going out with the guys, letting them douse him in champagne, giving throaty victory speeches at the parade and chugging beers that adoring fans tossed at him. 

But the fun seemed to melt away pretty quickly after that, with Jonny getting tense and twitchy. He’d still go out with the team, probably because he knew Pat would physically drag him out if he tried to bow out this early in the celebrations. But he was distant, constantly checking his phone, eyes taking on a faraway look that was almost familiar to Pat, though he couldn’t figure out why. And despite the gorgeous men and women who approached Jonny every night, Pat didn’t think he’d picked up even once. 

It was one thing to hold off during the playoffs; Jonny was big on focusing and not being distracted, and “not wasting unnecessary energy, Pat.” Sure, planning a scene could take a little work sometimes, which Pat never minded, even during playoffs, but he understood that Jonny had always felt differently about that. But it was the off-season now, and they had weeks until they needed to start thinking about upping their training or even going to the convention. Now was the time to indulge. Pat certainly was; day-drinking, golf and baseball games during the hot summer days, a different sub in his bed most nights. 

Jonny had never really talked about his hook-ups in the locker room, not the way some guys did, visceral play-by-plays of all the paces they put their subs through, but Pat had always assumed he was just a gentleman, didn’t want to kiss and tell. Or, well, spank and tell, or whatever. But he’d never have predicted that Jonny would turn celibate when his popularity in the city had never been higher. Last night, an actual Playboy model, one who Pat recognized immediately, spent close to an hour hitting on Jonny, standing close, looking up at him adoringly through her lashes, stroking his shoulders and snuggling herself under his arm whenever Jonny moved. Instead of taking her up on the incredibly obvious come-on, Jonny looked even more awkward than usual. Pat watched as Jonny shifted himself away from her, putting distance between them, angling his body away from hers, eyes wary and back rigid. The girl gave it her all but finally realized it wasn’t going to happen tonight, walking away from Jonny in her four-inch heels and showing off an ass that nearly made Patrick cry with envy. 

Even from across the bar, Pat could see how tightly Jonny’s jaw was clenched, the tension radiating from his body. Pat watched as Jonny threw back the rest of his drink and turned, walking right past their table and out of the bar. He didn’t even throw a glance in their direction, heading straight into the street. Pat exchanged confused looks with the rest of the guys, but no one seemed to have an answer for Jonny’s behavior. Pat pulled out his phone, looking for a text from Jonny to at least say he was heading out. He had a lot of offers to party, and text threads with most of the team that just amounted to them texting “we won the cup!!!” back and forth every day, but nothing from Jonny. Pat sent him a quick “everything ok, man?” but then let himself be distracted by the boys.

In the morning, well, afternoon, to be honest, when Pat woke up, he still hadn’t heard anything from Jonny, and seriously, that was enough. Whatever was going on with him was getting worse instead of better, and Pat was sick of it. He had nothing on his schedule for the day, and he decided that he was going to drag the truth out of Jonny one way or another. He usually texted Jonny to let him know he was coming over, but at this point, he was worried Jon might actually throw the deadbolt on him. No, the element of surprise was definitely what he needed.

He thought about bringing food as a peace offering, but if Jon was already feeling off for whatever reason, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. Providing like that was something that doms did for their subs, and while Pat and Jonny didn’t really let that stop them most of the time, Pat didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot. Better to make sure Jonny felt comfortable in his own space before Pat started digging for answers. 

Pat walked the few blocks to Jonny’s apartment, rolling over possibilities in his mind on the way. Jonny definitely wasn’t seeing anyone, so relationship trouble wasn’t on the list. He’d just seen Jonny’s family when they were in town for the parade, and they were all doing great, his parents enjoying their retirement and David back in school studying sports management. They shared the same agent, and Jonny had been on fire during the playoffs, so their contracts shouldn’t be a concern, either. By the time Pat arrived at Jonny’s apartment, he was no closer to an answer than when he started, but starting to worry even more. If it wasn’t something obvious, but it was still stressing Jonny out this badly, maybe it was serious. Could Jonny be sick? A wave of horror washed over Pat as he remembered a few hard hits Jonny had taken over the six weeks of playoff hockey. Maybe the concussion was back? He hurried in the front door of Jonny’s building, unable to wait any longer. 

Jon’s doorman waved at him, asking if Pat wanted him to call up to Jon, but Pat shook his head, grateful when the doorman just nodded and pointed towards the elevator bank. Pat had to stop himself from pacing back and forth in the small space, focused on taking a few deep breaths, fighting his growing sense of panic.

He barely waited for the doors to open before he was off, half-jogging down the hallway to Jonny’s apartment. He grabbed his keyring, flipped to Jonny’s and unlocked the door, giving a quick knock as he walked in.

Jonny was sitting on his couch, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees, head hanging between them. He looked… fragile, almost, like he was struggling to hold himself together. Small, in a way that Jonny never was. 

“Hey, man,” Pat started, and Jonny’s head bolted upright, clearly surprised. Jonny’s apparent shock made Pat even more uncomfortable; a dom should never be caught by surprise like that in his own space, should always be acutely aware of his surroundings, ready to defend them at a moment’s notice. Admittedly, Jonny’s high-rise, protected as it was by a 24/7 security desk and locked door, wasn’t exactly vulnerable, but Jon’s inattention still made Pat’s skin crawl with unease.

“Pat,” Jonny said, looking away quickly, and that, too, was unusual, the lack of eye contact a startling departure for Jonny. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company,” he continued, and his voice was quiet, projected towards the floor rather than Pat.

Pat was at a loss for words, unsure of what to say and unsettled at Jon’s behavior. He waited for Jonny to fill the silence, but Jon didn’t say anything else, didn’t even get up to offer Pat a bro-hug or a drink, just kept hanging his head, fidgeting with his hands so much that Pat longed to go over to him, grasp Jonny’s hands in his own and settle him down. He shook his head once, trying to get a handle on himself. Doms didn’t need “settling down,” not from other doms, at least, and Pat didn’t know where the urge had come from. Jonny just wasn’t acting much like a dom right now, and it was messing with Pat. 

The silence hung in the air for a few more moments, and then Jonny visibly gathered himself, taking a deep breath and looking up at Pat. 

“Sorry, man,” he said, voice flat but sounding a little more like himself. He gestured down at his phone and continued “just got a text from Dan. His grandfather died, and he has to go to France for a few weeks, handle the estate.” His voice trailed off at the end, eyes taking on that same familiar look Pat had been noticing recently. Pat waited for more of an explanation, but none came. He knew that Dan was Jonny’s childhood best friend, that they usually hung out when Jonny went back to the Peg over the summer, but he had no idea why his grandfather’s death was hitting Jonny so hard.

“Sucks, man. You guys were close, then?” Pat guessed, unable to come up with another reason why Jonny seemed so upset.

“No. I’d never actually met him, he moved back to France like thirty years ago.”

Pat was even more confused now, but he kept his mouth shut, waiting for an explanation. Jon’s shoulders hunched down even further, like he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up anymore.

“I just... usually, Dan and I..” Jonny was struggling, words forced out a few at a time, breath coming more quickly, “we.. he.. He helps me out,” Jonny finished, and his voice broke on the last word. He turned to look at Pat, then, and he looked impossibly young, expression crumpled and miserable. His eyes were wide and lost, filling with tears, and Pat saw fear there. Fear that he knew he would never see from a dom, but that his hindbrain recognized right away.

Later, he was so incredibly thankful that he moved on instinct, ignoring six years of etiquette, decorum and careful boundaries. Ignoring all of it in his haste to get his hands on Jonny. At the time, it felt impossible to do anything else. He was at Jonnys’s side in just a few steps, dropping onto the couch next to him, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and pulling Jonny down into his chest. Soothe, his mind insisted. Make it better. Make him safe. And Pat did, holding Jonny close, stroking his hair with one hand while the other rubbed circles on his back.

“It’s ok, baby, I’ve got you,” Pat whispered. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting, for Jonny to fight him, maybe, jerk away and ask what the fuck Pat thought he was doing. Pat felt the strong muscles of Jonny’s back tense under his hand for just a few seconds before his entire body melted, letting Pat take his weight. 

Pat kept them there, pet names and praise falling easily from his lips, as he felt the world snap into place. It almost made sense, now. Jonny rarely picked up, never talked about his hook-ups. He flushed red in the locker room sometimes, and darted his gaze away when reporters complimented him. He was unusually touchy with his family, letting his mother muss his hair and kiss his forehead, letting David push him around. Taken together like that, and stripping away the underlying assumption that Jonny had to be a dom, it painted a pretty clear picture of what Jonny had desperately been trying to hide all of these years.

Fuck.

A sub. Jonny was a sub. A sub who was desperate for a kind touch and a sweet word right now. Pat remembered that strange phone call from last summer, when Jonny sounded so fucked out, calling him ‘Patrick’ before Dan took the phone away, and the last piece slotted into place. Dan must be Jonny’s dom, or at least a dom that Jonny felt comfortable submitting to, probably the only one. It explained why he always disappeared to Winnipeg right after the season, virtually unreachable for a week. And it explained why Jonny was so upset that Dan would be out of the country. Pat figured Jonny had been getting by on sheer determination, willing himself to just make it back to Winnipeg where he could finally let go, finally be himself, and finding out today that that wouldn’t happen must have broken him.

Shit, judging by how easily Jonny was accepting his touch, he probably hadn’t submitted for close to a year now. Pat couldn’t imagine getting up every day, making it through four brutal rounds of the Stanley Cup playoffs, playing his heart out and leaving it all on the ice the way that Jonny had done while fighting down the instinct and desire to submit. Never being able to let go the way his body would have been demanding, yearning for. Never being able to let his guard down for an instant, always vigilant against people finding out. Pat was filled with pride at Jonny’s strength, but there was an unfamiliar feeling of shame, as well. Unfamiliar, but not unknown, and Pat recognized it as the feeling he got when he’d let his sub down. When someone had put their complete trust in him and he was found undeserving of it. Jonny wasn’t his sub, but Pat still felt responsible for him now. He knew Jonny better than anyone, and he’d been blind to this secret that seemed so obvious now.

Jonny stirred against his chest, and Pat stroked a hand under his chin, tilted his head up to look at him. Jon’s pupils were blown wide, eyes glassy, cheeks a rosy, delicious pink. Pat had never seen a sub look more beautiful in his submission. 

He wanted Jonny to get whatever he needed out of this, knew it was what was right for Jon’s physical and mental wellbeing to let him stay in subspace, but the couch was getting uncomfortable. He looked around for a kneeler for Jon before realizing that there weren’t any. Weren’t any accessories, actually- no cushions, no cuffs strewn around, no paddles or crops, and his heart broke again at what Jonny was depriving himself of for hockey. For the team. For Pat.

Pat reached behind him, hands grabbing for a pillow from the back of the couch. He found one, dropping it on the floor, and nudged Jonny gently. Jon’s eyes opened slowly, eyelids fluttering like he was dragging them against a heavy weight, and his breathing was slow and deep. His brow creased as he looked up at Pat.

“Patrick?” he asked, and that one word came out in such a honey-sweet reverent tone that Pat knew immediately he never wanted to hear anyone else say it again.

“Yea, baby, I’m right here. Just want you to be comfortable,” Pat answered, gesturing down at the pillow at his feet.

“Is,” Jonny cleared his throat, “is this ok?”

“Sweetheart, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (11)

I'm baaaaack :) Sorry it's been so long y'all but I'm finally on break so hopefully I can push out more content soon! Pls enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: little bit of language, mild mentions of alcohol

% approximately the last weekend of October/first week of November %

Sunday, you went wedding dress shopping.

Kinda.

It was for homecoming court. Your school had a tradition where the ladies in the running for queen wore white wedding dresses, so your mom and you went out in search of one.

You’d already gotten your dress for the actual dance weeks prior, so you started at the same store.

It didn’t take long for you to stumble upon one you liked, a slim a-line that accentuated your muscles and curves. There was a draped neckline and a somewhat low back. The entire dress had a grecian feel with the small silver accents dusted across it.

The second you put it on you fell in love, so you made the purchase and set off for shoes, easily finding a pair of heels that would put you at a similar level with Tom.

The next day, you made your way to class for another round of praise and congratulations for the tournament that weekend. The trophy was already sitting in the school display case, the plaque yet to be made with your school’s name and the year.

It was spirit week, so everyone was dressed in clothes that fit the day’s theme.

All morning, people were coming up and asking you about the tournament and homecoming, many of them pledging to vote for you.

Things felt nice.

You and Tom didn’t talk much throughout the morning, but exchanged a few jabs and laughs here and there.

Later, you sat around the lunch table with your girlfriends as usual, this time discussing the homecoming nominations.

“Y/n, there’s literally no way you won’t be queen. I’ve talked to a ton of people and all of them are saying they’re gonna vote for you,” one of them said.

“Aw shucks, you’re making me blush. Obviously I’d like to win queen, but we’ll see. It’s whatever. If Harrison wins king I’ll drop out.”

“As if. No one even likes him. I’m pretty sure he was voted in as a meme. Everyone knows Tom is gonna win,” Alexis stated. “And if Tom wins, you’ll win too with everyone thinking you’re together.”

“Hmm. I honestly hope Tuwaine gets the vote. He’s so sweet and totally deserves it.”

“I think we all know you’d prefer Tom as your royal counterpart,” one friend suggested, causing you to roll your eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys! Nothing is going on! On another note, though, I got my white dress,” you mentioned, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Really? Let us see!” Caroline exclaimed.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m saving it as a surprise for Friday. The only person who’s seen it is my mom, and it’s staying that way until the parade.”

You continued talking about the upcoming festivities and your excitement for the week, and the announcement of who would be crowned queen Friday at the pep rally.

That afternoon, you went to study hall with Alexis. Now that you were between sports, you had a free period to go do art, work out, or just “study,” so you chose the latter as a way to take a breather from everything that had been going on.

“So tell me everything about Johnny’s this weekend. Loved the costumes,” you started as you plopped down at two desks in the very back of the room.

“Not much to report. We mostly just hung out but I heard one dude had to go get his stomach pumped or something after the cops got there. We dipped out before it was busted because it was obvious they were coming. Now how was your weekend, since we’re finally alone?”

You thought about how much you’d actually tell her, especially considering that you hadn’t told her really anything about yours and Tom’s interactions in past weeks.

“Pretty good. It was mostly just volleyball.”

“Oh yeah? What all went down with Tom? Anna told me you seemed pretty close.”

Your face burned.

“We hugged after winning the tournament. Not a big deal. Oh and we maybe kinda pretended to be a couple Friday night.”

“What? You didn’t think to lead with that?!”

“It was for like a minute while we went up the elevator. This drunk couple was harassing us so we just played along for a little bit. Whatever,” you shrugged.

“Did you do anything couple-y? Don’t tell me you guys kissed.”

You tried not to cringe before somewhat telling a lie.

“I kissed him on the cheek and he put his arm around me. I swear it was nothing serious, Lex.”

“Hm. I still think you’ve gotta be hiding something, but I just don’t know what. And I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

Good luck with that. I’m not about to crack yet.

%

Spirit week continued with people coming up to let you know their votes had been cast for you. The voting ended Thursday so that votes could be counted before the pep rally.

When Friday did hit, you woke up early and tucked your volleyball jersey into some jeans and tossed on your letter jacket, as the day’s theme was school colors and jerseys.

You popped on some mascara and lip gloss, then headed to school, becoming more nervous as you got closer.

The pep rally would be right after lunch, but almost everyone was so excited for the weekend festivities that teachers basically gave everyone a free day so that the students in charge of the event could continue their planning and the athletes could prepare for the rally.

The pep rally was mostly for the football game, but they were also going to recognize the volleyball team’s accomplishments, so you prepared for that and the whole homecoming court thing.

In home ec, Mrs. Flynn let those that needed to help set up for the pep rally eat your lunches in class and then leave early.

You and Tom finished about the same time and went to your lockers to grab your things.

“Ready to win?” Tom asked as you walked towards the gym.

“Nope. You?”

“Yeah, actually. Maybe it’s just because I love winning so much.”

You gave him a little shove as you continued walking. Tom had his jersey on without the pads, so it fit big on him. You admired the way it draped over his thin, toned frame.

A bit later and the pep rally had begun with the dance team doing their routine, then came athlete recognitions.

They started with the volleyball team, calling you all out to the basketball court to wave as everyone cheered. After you all, the cheer squad hyped everyone up for the football team to come out.

You stood in a corner of the gym with Zendaya, as they would be announcing the homecoming court next. You both talked a little bit, but things were somewhat awkward.

Finally came the time to announce the winners. As with nominations, things went in order from freshman to senior, eventually reaching the king and queen announcement. The six of you stepped out onto the basketball court, the pit in your stomach bigger than before.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know that this is the moment you have all been waiting so patiently for!” Mrs. Johnson looked around the bleachers at the cheering students, holding up her paper with everyone’s positions.

“We’re going to start with our third place, the duke and duchess of homecoming! May I have a drumroll please!”

Everyone stomped their feet and clapped.

“This year’s duke is Mr. Harrison Osterfield, and the duchess is Daisy Ridley!”

Cheers went up, not completely enthusiastic for the pair. You felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing the people you liked least had gotten third place.

“Now for our runners up, the prince and princess!” She paused for effect. “Tuwaine Barrett and Zendaya Coleman!”

More cheers rang out than before. Your jaw dropped as you looked at Tom.

“And that means that your senior king and queen are Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Congratulations to all of you. Can’t wait to see you at the parade, game, and dance!” Mrs. Johnson called out, dismissing everyone back to class.

Someone came and placed the crown on your head and slipped a silver sash which read “homecoming queen” over your body. You couldn’t help but slap a hand over your mouth.

“What did I tell you! I knew you’d win!” Tom exclaimed, holding out his hands. You so badly wanted to hug him, but decided not to in front of the whole school, at least not until tomorrow night.

Your friends rushed up and congratulated you, fawning over the crown and sash and laughing. Before you left, you had to return the two items to a teacher so you would have them for later that night.

As you left school that afternoon, you felt like you were floating on air.

%

You were back at the school later that evening, the game just over a couple hours away. There were families lining the street prepared to watch the parade make its way down.

Since leaving the school before, you’d put your hair in loose curls and done a full face of makeup. You tossed on some sweats and zipped up your varsity jacket, taking your dress and shoes along in the car to change there.

You waited until the last minute to slip on the outfit, causing people to fawn over you when you stepped outside to see everyone who was waiting.

Someone pinned the crown to your head and helped you slip on the sash, then led you to the convertible where Tom was waiting. You’d get to ride around sitting on the back waving like you’d always dreamed of doing.

Your heels clacked on the sidewalk as you confidently stepped. Sure, you didn’t wear heels much, but you sure knew how to work them.

It felt like slow motion when Tom turned around and you saw each other for the first time. He was wearing slacks and a sport coat and his curls were perfectly placed around his own crown. You both gasped a little.

“Y/n! You look… you look like-”

“Let me guess. A princess?” you smirked, raising a brow.

“I was gonna say queen.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, giving him a little shove. He helped you climb into the back of the car, and someone went to hand you his letter jacket.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Usually if it’s cold the queen wears her partners’ letterman over her shoulders if he has one.”

You thought about it. It was pretty chilly, after all.

“You don’t have to wear mine, y/n. Did you bring yours?” Tom asked, making you smile.

“Yeah, actually. I did. Would someone mind going and grabbing it from my stuff? It’s just inside.”

One girl ran and brought it back in a few minutes, and Tom helped drape it over just your shoulders.

“That’s more like it,” he said, giving you a smile as he fixed the neck.

A few minutes later, the cars and floats began moving and families cheered as you passed, waving with a smile on your face.

You and Tom talked to each other quietly as you looked around both sides of the street. When you reached the end, someone had you pose for a couple pictures in the daylight before the football players headed off to get ready for the game.

This was not only homecoming, but senior night, so they all wanted to be on their A-game.

Different people came up to congratulate you and you took pictures with friends, family, and even a few little kids. You were talking with the girls when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around to find the Holland family, including Nikki’s parents and a woman you assumed to be Dominic’s mom.

“Well I sure am glad to see that people have some decent sense around here,” Grandma said, giving you a warm smile. You gave her a hug then greeted the rest of the family.

“You look beautiful, dear. Congratulations,” said Nikki as she gave you a squeeze.

“Oh, y/n, this is my mother,” Dom explained, gesturing to another elderly woman.

“Just call me Nana, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You smiled as she held your hands in hers.

“Thank you! Tom’s told me about you, too.”

Nikki shot some pictures of you with their family. It felt weird to be in their photos without Tom, but also comfortable, like you’d known them your whole life. You had to hold back a laugh when you took one kissing Paddy’s cheek and making him blush.

Eventually your parents also came over and talked to them, and everyone made their ways to the stadium.

%

A/N: omg it's been way too long since I updated TMP! I just wanted to pre-warn that next chapter will have the heaviest themes of this story. It will have adequate warnings but I want to make everyone aware!

Thanks for reading!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

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[imherongraystairstrash]

Find The Way Home (Thomas Lightwood Fanfic)

Extended tlh Lightwood family fluff about Thomas being accused for murder! (Never thought I'd put an exclamation after saying someone was being accused for murder) It's super long, so I split it into two parts!

...

Bridgestock pushed Thomas in front of him, leading him towards the institute like he was a prisoner. Well, technically, Bridgestock might have believed he was a prisoner even though he wasn’t. Thomas couldn’t quite breathe properly. Though he knew he was innocent, the shock of being found in that situation, the feeling of being treated like a murderer, brought out a fear in him he thought he had already grown out of.

They made it to the top steps, before the doors opened to reveal Cecily standing behind them.

“Maurice, what is the meaning of this?” She said. She had the strange ability to direct all of the anger of the world onto Maurice, and look at Thomas worriedly at the same time.

“We’ve caught ourselves the little murder.” Bridgestock said proudly.

Cecily’s jaw dropped, looking at Bridgestock as though he’d grown another head. “Ha-have you gone mad?” She said incredulously. “Release my nephew and let’s discuss this rationally.”

“I’m not going to release a murderer.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Maurice. He’s a child.” She said icily.

“He’s not a child anymore, Cecily. He’s quite grown. And we found him in the act! Look, even his hands are shaking.”

Thomas’ hand were shaking. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Lilian Highsmith had just died in his arms.

“That’s because he’s covered in blood. Because you’ve tied his hands and have most likely been parading him around the streets like some prized lamb up for slaughter, accusing him of a crime he most certainly didn’t commit.” Cecily said angrily. She turned to Bridget. “Ring Sophie and Gideon, please. This is ridiculous.”

“I already have, miss. They should be here soon.”

“Cecily, you’re being biased. Thomas Lightwood is your godson—”

“Exactly.” Cecily said. “That means I’ve known him my entire life and I know a murderer when I see one. You’re insulting my intelligence by contradicting me.”

“I’m not insulting you; he’s tricked us all, making us think he was a kind, innocent giant of a boy, when in reality, he is a ruthless killer.”

“This conversation has gone to the dogs.” Cecily said. “You’re being an absolute idiot and you know it. Now release him. You should hope for all of your sakes that you weren’t the reason behind those injuries on him.”

“I most certainly will not.” Bridgestock scoffed.

“Bridgestock, what the hell are you doing?” Gabriel said, quickly coming down the institute staircase to where they all were standing.

“He thinks Thomas is the murderer.” Cecily said, bitterly.

Gabriel laughed. “You can’t be serious.” When he saw that nobody was laughing, he stopped. “Are you serious?”

Cecily pressed her lips together tightly, glaring at Bridgestock.

“This is idiotic. And why the Hell is he tied up like at?

“Your wife just told you; he’s a murder suspect.”

“Thomas?” Gabriel said, “you could literally have brought any other shadowhunter here, and I’d believe it more than if it were Thomas.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not. There is concrete evidence that he is the murder.”

“What evidence?” Gabriel said.

While Gabriel and the inquisitor began to brawl, Cecily seized her opportunity and rushed over to Thomas.

“Are you alright?” she asked, checking for injuries with efficiency few people could express. “Is all of this blood yours?”

Thomas shook his head. He felt cold all over. “Aunt Cecy, I didn’t kill—”

Cecily shook her head. “Of course you didn’t, bach. Just breathe, you’re looking pale. Do you want water? I’ll go get—”

“No, please don’t go.” He said. He felt like a child. He hadn’t been so desperate to see anyone as he was now.

Cecily looked at him. “No, of course not. I need you to take deep breaths, Tom. Gideon and Sophie will be here soon, and we’ll get you right out. ”

She took out a stele and was about to draw an iratze rune on his skin to heal his cuts when Bridgestock pulled Thomas away from Cecily. “I didn’t give you permission to engage with him.”

“Oh, you piece of-” Cecily let out a string of curses that filled the institute and left the shadowhunters speechless. “Get your filthy hands off of him before I rip them out of their sockets and shove them down your throat.” Her eyes might as well have been the blue fire from hell. Even Bridgestock looked uneasy.

“He is under suspicion for a crime.”

“It’s alright, Aunt. He won’t listen no matter what. Let him take me to the sanctuary; It’s only fair.” His voice came out more breathless than he would have liked, but at least everybody listened.

Gabriel accompanied Thomas and the other shadowhunters and Cecily waited by the doorway, perhaps for his parents.

The truth was, after some of the initial shock was gone, Thomas was able to understand that this wasn’t too bad. It would be okay because he’ll most likely—no, definitely— be tried with the mortal sword, and be found innocent.

When the sanctuary doors opened, Thomas told himself one thing: Everything would be just fine.

…

“What is the meaning of this?”

A few minutes after being seated in the sanctuary, Thomas looked up relieved to be seeing his mother’s familiar face.

The question directed at Bridgestock, but she looked at Thomas.

“Your son is being held under suspicion.”

“This is utter nonsense.” Gideon said, stand behind Sophie.

Sophie started towards Thomas.

“Stop! You mustn’t—”

“I suggest you do not come in between my son and I, Maurice. The numbers are not in your favor.” Sophie said, referring to the rest of the Lightwoods behind her: Gabriel, Cecily, Eugenia, Gideon, even little Alexander, in Eugenia’s arms, was looking mutinous.

The inquisitor didn’t stop Sophie as she made her way to Thomas.

“Mother,” Thomas said, “I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“I know, Thomas. Of course you didn’t.” Sophie said, putting her arms around him.

It was comforting to have his mother embrace him. It felt human, after all of the mess of what has been happening. To smell the familiar scent of her perfume; to be able to rest his head on her shoulder.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Bridgestock said, interrupting.

Cecily cursed at him in Welsh.

“What did she say?” he demanded

“It doesn’t matter.” Gabriel said dismissively.

Bridgestock seemed about to retort, when he suddenly looked around the room. “Where the hell is Gideon?”

“He went to get the Consul.” Sophie said, pulling away from the hug. “She’ll make a rational decision about this matter.”

Bridgestock was fuming. “Well, I’m going too. Everybody clear the room.”

“Why would we do that?” Eugenia said.

“Because I’m not leaving a criminal out in the open.” He said. “Especially when you are bound to free him.”

“We are temporary heads of the London Institute, Bridgestock.”

“And I’m your permanent Inquisitor.” He said. “And you must do as I say.”

He stared at Sophie.

She clenched her jaw and turned to Thomas. “We’re going to get you out, alright? Charlotte will know what to do and then this will all be behind you and you can come home, darling.” She gave him a tight hug and kissed his forehead before she headed towards the door.

“We must tie him up.”

Eugenia was fuming. Sophie looked calm, but the scarred side of her face twitched. Cecily’s fists were clenched and Gabriel was about to say something when Thomas spoke.

“It’s okay. Let him bind me to the chair.” Thomas offered them a weak smile. “It can’t hurt me.”

A shadowhunter tightened ropes around his wrists while another tied his legs to the chair. Thomas realized the fault in his statement when he noticed how tight they were making the knots; how they were digging into his skin. Sophie looked like she wanted to go to him and cut the knots off. She looked like it caused her pain to see him like this. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but could think of nothing.

They still looked at each other as the shadowhunters finished and the doors of the sanctuary closed, leaving Thomas alone.

…

“Is it stupid,” Cecily said, “that he insisted on locking Thomas in the Sanctuary when we have the key?” She held up said key and gave it to Eugenia.

“I wouldn’t recommend you go in, of course, because that could very well raise Bridgestock’s suspicions, but at least we can control who gets in.”

Eugenia threw her aunt a wide grin and stalked away from the room. Both women smiled as they watched Eugenia leave. When the door closed, Cecily turned to Sophie.

“How are you?” she asked her, shifting Alexander from one hip to the other.

“The shock of seeing my son tied up to a chair and treated like a criminal is wearing off.” Sophie said, reaching out to brush Alex’s silky, raven curls away from his forehead. “I know he’s innocent and that he’ll get out in no time, but I can’t help but worry. He’s not a baby anymore, but he’s my child and I can’t help but stress that he’s in that wretched sanctuary.” Sophie turned her gaze away from Alexander to Cecily.

“I have terrible memories for that room from my time working as a maid in the Institute. Of struggling against clockwork creatures, of being pulled across the floor. Some memories are so deep in your mind that you forget they exist, until something triggers them to come back.”

Cecily took Sophie’s hand.

“I don’t want him to be in there by himself.” Sophie said. “And he’s going to have to spend the night there because the only way Bridgestock will let him go is if he is tried with the mortal sword, and it’s in Paris with Will and Tessa and—”

“Sophie.” Cecily said, setting Alexander down on the floor and sitting Sophie down on a chair. “You know better than I that Thomas is strong. If anybody can stay in The Sanctuary, alone all night, it’s your son.”

Sophie nodded. “Yes, I know. It’s just that…” She bit her lip. “He’s my son. I can’t help but worry.”

Cecily knelt down in front of her and grabbed her hands tightly. “I know it’s frightening. We mothers never stop worrying. But I want you to know that Thomas will be released tomorrow at the latest, and until then, he’ll be alright.”

Sophie squeezed Cecily’s hand back.

“You're right. It can’t be worse than anything we Lightwood women haven’t endured yet.”

Cecily got up and hugged her fiercely.

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