#Cleveland circle

[timmurleyart]

Waitin’ on the T. 🚃❄️🟢

[calebisdrawing]

“Someone has taken old, mismatched furniture and created a study is this dusty, lamplit chamber. Tables are strewn with pieces of parchment, on which strange diagrams are drawn, and a freestanding bookshelf holds a collection of bones. A dusty rug covers the floor in front of a pine box, on which lounges a skeletal cat. Several more skeletal cats skulk about. Most unnerving of all is the sight of three small children standing with their backs to you in the northeast corner of the room.”

The place where Victor hangs out most of the time so he can, y’know, work on his magic. There's the Rules as Written version above, and the one Dragnacarta prefers for Strahd: ReReloaded:

I posted these and their hires versions a week ago on my Patreon. I always share the lores versions for free, but if you want to support me and my quest of illustrating this incredible module, come visit!

[kindahoping4forever]

Needed for the blog, you understand

[wrestlezon]

going through and organizing that best friends + oc vs miro + kip/penelope feud document and 2020 was so long ago that it was before orange even had where is my mind as his theme. he just had generic rock. wild

this feud also goes from october 2020 to march 2021. trent gets injured halfway through in december so, sure. but woof does it drag, man. it also doesn't really get interesting* until the butler stuff comes into play at the beginning of 2021, but by that time its been almost 3 months of this so its a bit harder to appreciate.

it does have a good payoff in the end. but maybe i'll recommend just starting from the dynamite diamond ring match onward lol

*there is nothing more interesting than seeing chuck in turmoil.

[helloanxietyattack]

Dissertation: defended ✅ Capacity to experience joy: recovered (mostly) ✅ Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Many moons ago (last October, to be precise), I asked for a prompt. 500 fluffy words, hard cap. It was just supposed to get things moving. Never meant to see the light of day.

Anyway, for entirely unrelated reasons, here's 2k (mostly) fluffy words about long drives and beach days and falling in love.

Title: Long Way Home Summary:

“And I…already told you that.”

Whistler’s lips twitched.

“There’s a chance you might’ve mentioned it.”

“When I asked you for a ride…Right.” A half-hearted smack punctuated the statement.

“And again, as we were heading out to the car.”

“Shit.” Lucy tried to vanish through the back of the seat. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Whistler surrendered herself to an indulgent half-smile. “So, I’ll tell you the same thing I said earlier. It’s not a problem at all. I’m happy to help.”

“I’m sorry.” A forcible exhale alleviated some tension. “I’m just…I don’t know.”

“Nervous?”

[weliketheiroldstuff]

Meshuggah brings Converge and Torche to cleveland so I went to cleveland…

Earlier in September, I was supposed to have surgery. We have been planning on this for months. The weekend before the operation and I caught Covid. I would then get a rescheduled date for the 28th, which just so happened to be the Meshuggah show in MICHIGAN. I knew immediately that I was saying yes to not photographing a tour I was already booked to cover.

Then a week before the new date I got incredibly stoned and had one of those life-affirming conversations with myself. I know, I am a crazy person. But, it needed to happen. I realized that whenever life tells me “no” I always take that for the answer. Now, this isn’t some weird way of being gross, but what I am saying is I accept that there isn’t another way of doing things when life gives me adversity. I just accept that and move on with my life. Well, I wasn’t feeling that way last week. I was feeling like my life has gotten really good and that I need to do more about controlling the outcome of things.

So, I did what most people in Michigan wouldn’t do, I opted to go to ohio. Don’t hate me, it’s a joke. Even if it’s bad, still a joke. To my shocking reaction, I was able to get approved for a switch from the Royal Oak show to cleveland.

Saturday I would drive down alone, almost 3 hours from my door to the box office at the venue. And then that’s when things got fucky. A hangup at the venue box office would keep me outside well into Converge’s set… And that’s where I’m gonna stop. Because, as much as I want to just blast the people and go deep into what was said and how it was said, I can’t. It’s not worth it. I’ve already caused shit this week. And well, I redeemed myself in Royal Oak a few days after this, even if it meant I broke some rules I shouldn’t have. I will say this, it was unbelievably frustrating, especially because once I got to the venue the rest of the staff and concertgoers were fantastic. Not to mention the ride to cleveland from Detroit was one of the best of my entire life. I got a massive dose of closure in my personal life. I rode down on a gorgeous warm day where the sky had incredible clouds the entire way down. I was riding a high I haven’t felt in my life. Add on top of it that I was going to another city to photograph a concert bill that is unreal.

And then a massive cliff dive into stress. That’s right life, don’t ride too high ya phoenix in flames loving mother fuckers. ”You are not allowed to be that happy” is what life told me it also went in on me… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ”It is not supposed to be this good for you.” ”You do not deserve this.” ”You shouldn't be here.” ”She was right, you really are a fucking loser.” ”You really can’t do shit right.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That’s what was going through my head standing in front of the venue. That’s the imposter syndrome that is so immediate when shit goes haywire. It’s waiting at all times to try and make things so much worse than they need to be. I’m not alone, this is so absurdly normal for anyone creative to deal with. It’s how we handle it in the long run that counts right? Yeah, so I fucked that up too… A car backfires and I snap out of it. I then just start writing on my phone.

I did get to hear some of Torch from outside on the sidewalk. Converge ripped through a set that shredded us like cheddar cheese. I swear to God I’m glad I didn’t fucking kill someone in that excuse for a pit. But alas, I just tried to keep my cool and just get the Meshuggah photos. The band had chiptune music as their intro and included “Iron Man” and other metal classics, I was just too frustrated to really pay attention to everything like I normally do. For that, I apologize. The lighting goes off with the kick drums, and the frantic strobes, slowly building into one hell of an insane light show. Not to mention the band built their set in a way to gradually watch concertgoer’s faces be melted off. The easiest way to say how I felt while watching Meshuggah is this, completely blown the fuck away. I am not posting setlists. I am not giving anything else away. IF YOU ARE IN SIGHT LINE OF THIS TOUR OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS AND YOU DO NOT GO, THAT IS SOLELY ON YOU FOR MISSING ONE OF THE GREATEST METAL BANDS OF ALL TIME. DON’T SLEEP. Here are the photos, and the collage from ohio. Cheers!

TONIGHT IS THE LAST NIGHT WITH CONVERGE! 2 DAYS FROM NOW IN FLAMES TAKES THEIR SPOT ON THE WEST COAST!!!

[sommerbueckers]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝⁷

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠

✰ 𝐢 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨...

✰ 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐤

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟏.𝟕𝐤

___________________________________________________________

I COULD PRACTICALLY FEEL the sweat dripping off my body as me and Noella wrote down our answer on our whiteboard. The question was, 'Who is the only president to serve two non-consecutive terms?' I was a mastermind when it came to history and random facts, and after carefully reading everyone else's face, I knew they were toast.

"Okay, who's ready?" Micah asked.

"We are," Noella smiled proudly, crossing her arms and leaning back on the couch.

"Mom?" I called, glancing at her.

"Bring it on," she made 'come here' motions with her fingers and laughed along with my dad.

"Okay, everyone flip your boards. And the answer is..." Micah trailed off as he reached forward to flip the card over and read the answer, "damnit! Grover Cleveland."

Noella stood up and jumped around, throwing her hands in the air. "Let's effing go! Let's effing gooo!" she sang.

"Bro sit down," Micah groaned, covering his face with his hands.

Paige shook her head, setting the board down beside her on the couch. "Right, y'all ain't win yet."

"You're right," I nodded, "but we might as well have the way the scores are lookin'." I stood up slowly and shrugged, beginning to join Noella in whatever dance she had found herself doing now.

My mom and dad laughed from their seats on the couch, Micah looked about ready to die, and Paige held a look that I couldn't quite read. She was comfortably leaning back on the couch, her eyebrows raised as she watched Noella and I dance around in circles.

"How about we make this interesting," she suddenly suggested.

Everyone calmed at her words, urging her to go on.

"You guys are way ahead of everybody else in general points, right?"

"That's right," Noella sassed, earning a laugh from me.

"Okay. So let's make the final game all or nothing," Paige said.

Micah dapped her up, "Best fuckin' idea ever, i'm down."

"Of course you are Mickey, you're losing," our dad laughed quietly, shaking his head.

"No literally, someone is clearly a sore loser," I snorted.

"I'm not a sore loser. I just think that if we're gonna let them keep all their points, then we may as well call it a night. Nobody is gonna catch up to them in one game," he defended.

"What's the game?" Noella asked curiously, obviously debating in her head.

"And you can't pick basketball!" I chimed in.

"I was thinkin' Twister," Paige smirked.

I tensed up at the mention of Twister. It wasn't that I didn't like the game, but the thought of having to twist and bend around Paige with my brother watching us made me slightly uneasy. My body had a mind of its own when I was around Paige, and who knew what the night would bring.

"Ou, hard pass," my dad frowned, "these legs don't work like they used to I tell ya."

"Yeah kids that's too much for me, i'm getting too old for anything that isn't a board game," my mom added soon after. "But you guys should go ahead."

"You sure?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"Positive," the woman sighed and stood up with my father following suit, "just make sure y'all clean up whatever mess you make."

"We gotchu mama c," Noella reassured her, giving her a hug goodnight.

"Goodnight you four, don't stay up too late," my dad pointed at us sternly, narrowing his eyes specifically at Micah and Paige before he and my mom disappeared upstairs.

I glanced at my phone, 12:32. Tossing it onto the couch I nodded my head, "Alright, let's do it."

Micah stood up and headed to the basement to get the game while Paige, Noella, and I moved the furniture around to set it up. Noella, out of breath after hardly helping to lift the coffee table, left to the kitchen to get something to drink, leaving Paige and I alone for the first time that night.

Paige sat back down on the couch with a huff, resting her hands behind her head and staring at me. "You excited to play?" she asked me, the ghost of a smirk on her face.

"To play and kick your ass? Of course," I shrugged simply, avoiding her eyes. I couldn't let her know how flustered I was getting at the idea of me on top of her again...or her on top of me. I sat down opposite of her, fiddling with the loose threads on the couch.

"If you can even focus," she challenged.

"What makes you think I won't be able to?" I challenged right back, but she was nowhere near as bothered as I was. In fact, I doubt she was bothered at all.

I could see Noella standing in the doorway of the kitchen, she was holding onto the frame as she slid up and down it in an oddly seductive way. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips parted.

What a sick fuck.

She stifled her laughter when she reentered the living room, Micah coming in not long after with a dusty Twister box in his arms. He set it down on the floor and roughly pulled the cap off, "Me and Noella, you and Paige," he pointed.

"Why're we switching the teams?" Noella frowned.

"We're not, but i'm not playing Twister with my sister. So we'll each send someone from our team to represent us."

"Oh, he's a smart boy," Noella nodded with an impressed expression.

"We'll go first," Paige offered, quickly raising her brows at me and standing up from her seat not the couch. "Are you spinning for me?"

"Yeah," Micah said. Noella moved to sit next to him, their legs touching from how close they were. Nobody thought anything of it, nobody except for Micah whose head was practically spinning. "Y'all ready?" he asked.

With the nods of our heads, Micah flicked his fingers at the spinner and everyone watched in anticipation as the arrow went in circles around the colors. When it finally stopped, Paige had to put her right hand on a red circle. Then it was Noella's turn to spin, and following that was me putting my left hand on green.

Paige's left foot on green.

My right foot on blue.

Paige's left hand on green.

My right hand on blue.

I was facing the floor, bent over underneath Paige who was no doubt enjoying every second of this. I could see Noella out of the corner of my eye, she was shaking her head and smirking. She was the only one who knew just how painfully awkward this was for me, and I couldn't even blame her when she failed to hold back a laugh.

Micah frowned, "How does this game even work? Like how do you win?"

"Whoever falls first I guess," Noella shrugged in response. "Just take your turn."

Micah rolled his eyes but listened nonetheless. "Paige," he called out, "right foot on yellow."

"Bet," she nodded.

I waited patiently for Paige to take her turn while Micah watched Noella spin. Suddenly, I felt a slight pressure between my legs. I looked down immediately to find Paige right knee being the source, her leg angled at just the right position to reach me. I could hear her laughing from behind me, and when I turned to glare back at her, she pressed her knee in harder.

I bit my lip to stop an involuntary moan from slipping out, letting my head fall low on my shoulders.

"Left hand on green sonnie," Noella stated.

I put my left hand on green, and Paige moved her knee around on me. My foot slipped from the circle it was on, briefly closing around Paige's knee and sending a wave of pleasure through me.

"Oh," I sighed out.

Paige's own stability faltered before she allowed herself to fall on top of me. We went down with a slight Thud! and Noella threw her hands in the air again.

"Paige fell first! We win!" she shouted.

"How?! Sonnie's foot slipped!"

"Doesn't matter, she didn't fall, Paige did."

"I think I like this position," Paige mumbled quietly to me, "i'll have to remember this for later."

She pushed herself off of me and turned me over, helping me up. I glanced at her with slightly wide eyes as we moved to make ourselves comfortable on the couch, taking the spinner from Micah and Noella. We sat beside each other, but I could barely focus on what we were supposed to be doing.

"Stay up tonight," Paige whispered, pretending to scratch the side of her head when she looked at me.

"Left foot on yellow Nola," I said before lowering my voice to a whisper to respond to the blonde beside me, "for what?"

She nudged my thigh with her own, "you know what."

"Maybe I don't," I said, casually resting my arm on one of her shoulders. "and need you to tell me."

Paige turned to me, her eyes falling down to my lips before she looked back up at me. I could feel her breath warm the tip of my nose, and my tongue darted across my lips.

"Right hand on blue," Paige called out, her eyes not leaving mine.

I pressed my thighs together, turning away from her as I took the spinner. She rested her hand on my thigh, lightly tracing shapes on the soft skin. I squirmed a bit, "Right..." pull yourself together Sommer, "right hand on red."

"Spread your legs..."

"Paige, no," I whisper yell, "not right here."

"You're no fun."

___________________________________________________________

MY HEAD WAS BURIED deep in my pillow as Paige pounded in and out of me. I moaned into the soft cushion, my fingers coming around the bedsheets to grab two full handfuls. I felt her gather my hair into a makeshift ponytail, yanking my head back up. She pressed a kiss to my shoulder, slightly moving aside the strap of my top.

"You're so good at being quiet," she breathed out.

I could feel my release building inside of me, my walls clenching tightly around the strap.

"Paige..." I whined.

Letting go of my hair, she fully pressed her chest against my back, the sides of our faces touching.

"You're gonna...make me...cum," I said between breaths, tilting my head as she started to kiss my neck. She picked up her pace, her grunts filled the room and she slithered her hand over my mouth to keep me quiet. I moaned uncontrollably into her hand, screwing my eyes shut as I felt the pleasure become overwhelming.

Her phone buzzed from my bedside table, she ignored it.

"You wanna cum baby?" she whispered into my ear.

I nodded eagerly, not even caring how pathetic I looked. It was what Paige wanted, and I would always give her what she wanted.

"C'mon then, cum for me."

Her permission was like a key to a locked door, that door being the orgasm I had managed to hold off for the last thirty seconds.

My cum spilled out onto her strap, pouring out of me like water out of a faucet. Sweaty and completely fucked out, I let my head fall back into the pillow. Paige slowly pulled out of me, taking the strap off and setting it down onto the floor. She crawled up next to me and stroked her hand over my matted hair, "So pretty..." she mumbled.

"You can't even see me," I said, my voice muffled.

"I don't have to."

Slowly, I lifted my head to meet her eyes. She was staring at me with the most tender eyes anyone had ever given me. It was in that moment that I couldn't even believe I had questioned her feelings for me, Paige had to have feelings for me. We had sex anytime she came home from school, and it wasn't casual, not to me.

She stood up from the bed and stretched, "We should probably go back down, don't wanna fall asleep up here or nothin'," she suggested.

I nodded in agreement, "I'm gonna freshen up first."

"Yeah, you need it," she snorted, raising her eyebrows.

I grabbed the nearest pillow I could find and launched it over at her, "Fuck you," I laughed.

"I'd let you but you're all fucked out," she pouted mockingly and opened my door, "see you downstairs."

Damn...that's it?

___________________________________________________________

[fairy-writes]

Would it be too much to ask for a William James Moriarty x Holmes sister reader? Like she's a travelling archaeologist/anthropologist who's a genius in the field and has found many artifacts and lost cities and can be a bit of an eccentric looney like her older brother Sherly but she's also incredibly kind to those in need and often donates her treasures to the less fortunate and even helps Sherly from time to time which is how he meets her and is impressed by her smarts and sarcastic wits. Also, a bit of a parkour junky likes to wear mens clothes tailored for her measurements and often wears her hair in loose buns or ponytails and loves riding horseback much to Mycroft's displeasure🤭

A BUSINESS PROPOSAL

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Moriarty the Patriot

Pairing(s): William James Moriarty x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Holmes!Reader, Mildly sexist behavior from Mycroft? It is the 1800s after all.

Notes: So this was super fun to write! 

Fun fact! I took an archaeology class for my associate’s degree in criminal justice and highly recommend taking one to anyone in college! 

I actually took several anthropology classes (intro to anthro, bio anthro, and archaeology). I even considered switching my major to anthropology at some point! (I switched it to English lol)

PART TWO HERE

__________________________________________________________________________

Otis whinnies, and you reach forward from your place in the saddle to pat his neck.

“Easy, Otie, almost there.” You whisper to him and gently nudge him to turn down the familiar road of Baker Street. You could spot your brother’s flat from where you were at, an unfamiliar carriage parked in front. You frown briefly and then shrug. Sherlock could have whoever he liked over. 

But… he did promise to take you out on the town in celebration of your latest discovery. Did he forget?

No… He wasn’t the type to forget something like that. You had been exchanging letters for weeks about your coming home. 

A tall man was at the front of the carriage, tending to the horses. He had spiked black hair and a glove on one hand. He looks at you with skeptical eyes as you draw near and dismount your horse. The Cleveland Bay snorts, ruffling your hair as you smooth your hand up his snout and between his eyes. Then, you promptly tied his reins to the post outside 221B Baker Street and went up to the front door. 

The door knocker was more worn than you last remembered, with the shiny brass turning a glimmering gold color from all the hands touching it. You rap the door once, twice, then a third time, and wait, stuffing your hands in your trouser pockets. 

A young man opens the door, sandy blond hair combed neatly and brown eyes alight with curiosity. A grin breaks your face, and you step forward into his arms as he realizes just who is at the door.

“My dear John!” You shriek, and he chuckles, lifting you off your feet and spinning once in a circle before setting you down. 

“I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks!” He replies excitedly, and you laugh gleefully. 

“We finished early! Anyhow, how’s Mary? Sherlock said you two were expecting!” You say and slap his shoulder good-naturedly. He ducks his head, a pink flush on his cheeks as he nods.

“She’s home at the mo. But yes, we’re expecting. The midwife thinks it’ll be a girl based on how she’s carrying.” He said, and before you could say any more, there was a noise at the top of the stairs. 

You turn, and your grin widens even more until your cheeks hurt. 

“Sherly!” You crow, and he bounds down the stairs to sweep you up in a bear hug. His boisterous laugh made your heart sing, and you buried your nose in his hair. He smelled like cigarette smoke and whiskey. He must have been on a case. He squeezes you tight and sets you down. 

“I thought you were coming back in two weeks!” He exclaims, and you roll your eyes,

“So John said, I told you we finished early!” You tease, and it is then that you notice that there is someone else in the flat. 

He was tall, probably around your brother’s height. He had blond hair and deep scarlet eyes that studied you with interest. He was dressed in a brown suit with a crimson tie. A lord. That much is obvious.

Sherlock notices that you notice his friend and gestures to the man at the top of the stairs. 

“This is Liam! A mathematics professor at Durham University and a friend of mine who helps me on my cases.” He says proudly as “Liam” descends the stairs and approaches you. 

You stick out a hand and introduce yourself. His hand is smooth like you expected, as opposed to your calloused one. You had bandages littering your fingertips from blisters from shovels and tools. 

“William James Moriarty. I’ve heard stories about you.” His British lilt is proper and endearing. You feel your heart flutter and your ears burn. But you smile warmly nonetheless and give his hand a firm shake.

“As much as I’d like to say the same, Sherly has yet to tell me about you in his letters.” You direct the last sentence to your older brother in the same teasing tone as before. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and punches your shoulder lightly while William watches on in amusement. 

“I got distracted!” Sherlock complains, and you break out into giggles. 

“I would love to hear some stories if you’re up to it.” William cut in gently before you, and Sherlock could start bickering. You brighten. A chance to tell stories of your work and not have someone get bored? It sounded like heaven!

That was how you got to where you were at the current moment. 

You were seated next to Sherlock at the Moriarty dining table, regaling them with a story of the most current dig you had been on.

“—and Egypt was absolutely smashing! It was so beautiful!” You say, waving your hands excitedly as you describe the tomb that had been uncovered. It had taken weeks to uncover everything, almost months. But oh so worth it. 

“Might I ask what you did with all the artifacts you found?” William inquires, and you hum as you sip at your wine. 

“Donated it all back to the locals. It’s the least I can do. Plenty of archaeologists steal their finds and bring them back to England to show in museums. I try and do the opposite.” You say and were pleased to see William nod in approval. 

At least someone shared your sentiment. 

You got a letter to your very old and very dusty flat a week after your return to England, summoning you to your eldest brother’s estate. You had been dusting and cleaning your furniture when the postman knocked on your door. You frown, brushing your pants on the seat of your trousers, and answer the door. 

The letter was short. 

Dearest sister, 

I have received news of your return to Egypt. I would like to have your company at the family estate for dinner to discuss business and your adventures. 

With best regards, 

Mycroft Holmes

A summons to the Holmes family estate that your oldest brother had inherited after your parents retired to the country. You look at the ceiling and groan, eliciting a funny look from the postman. 

This was going to be fun.

As soon as Otis realizes where you are, he tosses his head and tries to turn around. You tug the reins so he faces the right direction and nudge him into a walk down the road.

“Otie, I don’t want to do this either. But I’d rather not have Mikey send special forces after us or something.” You say to Otis, and when you reach the stables, Mycroft’s hired stable hand takes your beloved horse’s reins. “Take good care of him!” You nearly reprimand the stable hand who agrees and welcomes you back with ease. 

The maids welcome you in excitedly when you rap on the massive double doors, and you are ushered upstairs into the dining room. 

Mycroft was seated at the head of the table, where your father would be if he were here, and he stood to greet you. He offers a handshake, but you simply smile warmly and hug him tightly. He may have grated on your nerves, but he was still your brother. Mycroft stiffens and pats your shoulders awkwardly when you step back.

“As awkward as always, I see Mikey.” You said and took a seat at the table next to him like you did when you were kids. He clears his throat and calls for the kitchen staff to bring in the food. 

It wasn’t much, considering there were only two of you. But it was as extravagant as Mycroft always demanded it to be. 

“Would you like to change into dinner attire before we eat, sister dearest?” Mycroft says suddenly, just as you are about to dig into the delicious roast prepared by the staff of the household. You put your fork down and scowl.

“Don’t start with this, Mikey. You know I hate dresses.” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. 

At least… he doesn’t until you are done with your meal and in his study, talking about your travels to Egypt. 

You down the rest of your whiskey and set the glass whiskey tumbler on the table between you two. 

“More whiskey?” He offers, and you shake your head.

“I want to be able to ride home after this.” You say and hold in a yawn. The excellent food combined with the fireplace blazing with a crackling fire is lulling you to sleep. 

Suddenly, Mycroft stands and walks in front of the fire, setting his own glass down on the mantle and turning to face you. 

“Might we talk some business?” He inquires, and immediately, your mood sours. 

So this was his end goal? Get you sleepy and drunk so you couldn’t ride home and were subject to his pleadings?

“I don’t want to hear it, Mikey.” You say and stand, holding onto the back of the wingback chair for a moment as the dizziness sets in. 

He scowls, 

“You are of perfect age. The season is just starting. You could still join in and find a potential suitor!” He tries, and you scrub at your face.

“I already told you I wasn’t interested in courting! I’m interested in—”

“Your work, I know. But what happens when the digs dry up and there’s nothing else for you to do? What will you do when you get too old for this?!” He snaps, and you whirl, steadying yourself with the chair as your anger flares. 

“It won’t dry up! There are thousands of years of history still to be discovered! Hundreds of thousands of cities and archaeological finds!” Your voice rises to a shout, and you hear distant footsteps as maids scurry away from you and your brother’s anger. 

This goes on for several minutes until Mycroft a bomb on you. 

“Mother and Father have decided. If you don’t find someone to court, they will no longer fund your excavations, and you’ll be stuck here with me.” 

You freeze, hands wound tightly in your hair, and argument dying on your tongue. 

“B—But that would mean—” Mycroft cuts you off gently and approaches, putting his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’d be stuck here until you find a husband—no more digs. No more artifacts. Not until you do as they and I ask.” Tears well up in your eyes, and you shrug off his hands violently and flee. 

Your boots pound against the hardwood floors, and you run outside where it has started pouring rain. Instantly, your clothes are soaked as you make it to the stables, dress Otis in his saddle and bridle, and swiftly mount his back. He tears out of the stables at a thundering gallop, and the stable hand barely dives out of the way to save himself from being trampled. 

Otis’s hooves dash against the cobblestone roads. You cling to his reins and hunch over his back as tears stream down your face and sobs wrack your body. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Taking away your funding? 

No one wanted to fund a woman on an archaeological dig! 

Much less one as young as yourself! 

You were screwed! Doomed to live as a housewife because that was society’s and your parent’s expectations of you!

Otis eventually comes to a halt, and you dismount, collapsing onto a bench, breathing hard as rain pours down your body. Your shirt sticks to your skin, and your trousers swim in water as you sit in a puddle on the bench. But you can’t bring it in you to care. 

A carriage rumbles to a stop before you, and you look up as the door opens. 

“Might I interest you in some shelter?” Comes a proper and endearing accent that you recognize. 

“William?” You sniffle, and he smiles, extending a hand. 

“If you’ll let him, Fred will handle your horse. How about you step inside the carriage, and we’ll take you back to the Moriarty estate.” He says over the rain. A young man with a blue scarf wrapped around his head gets off the front of the carriage and approaches. You hiccup and nod, handing Otis’s reins to the young man and accepting William’s hand into the carriage. He sheds his overcoat and offers it. 

It’s warm and heavy as you wrap it around your shoulders and sit down. Your boots squelch against the floor, and William knocks twice against the carriage's wall, and it starts moving once again. 

The Morairty estate is even grander than you remember, looming over you as the carriage stops by the front doors. You nearly slip in your haste to get inside and are taken up the stairs to one of the many bedrooms. 

“Draw a bath and get warm. I’ll have some clothes brought by. We can have a talk after you’ve collected yourself.” William says gently, and you nod, taking off his overcoat so he can have it back. He excuses himself, and you are left alone in the suite. 

The bath is nice and hot, and you let out a sigh as you shed your clothes into a pile on the floor and sink into the warm water. Your tears are drying, but your emotions are still raging like a rabid dog inside you.

How could they? 

Didn’t your family know archaeology was your passion? Your dream?! Of course, they did! You never shut up about it when you were but a little girl learning to play the piano! You babbled on and on about fossils and artifacts in between lessons until you were blue in the face!

It wasn’t long until you were done in the bath and dried off. As William had promised, some clothes were left on the bed. A button-down that looked like it might fit you, a pair of trousers that might be a bit too long, and a pair of undergarments. You tugged on the underwear and then the trousers, having to cuff them at the bottom so you didn’t trip. The shirt fit better than you thought so you pinned your hair out of your face and left the bedroom and down the hall. Hadn’t there been a sitting room just down the stairs? 

William was inside, stoking a fire with a poker, his back to you. He stood and turned when you rapped lightly on the entryway. His lips curled in a welcoming smile, and he gestured for you to take a seat. 

“Would you like some tea? I had Louis put the kettle on.” He said, and you nodded, sitting on the couch beside the fire.

“Thank you. For the clothes and… everything else.” You mumble, and he shakes his head,

“Don’t mention it. Sherlock mentioned you hated dresses.” He says and pours you a cup of tea.

It’s delicious. It warms you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your bare toes. You scuff them on the plush carpet as William sits across from you. His scarlet eyes are illuminated like glittering rubies in the oranges and yellows of the fire. They’re alive like a torch resides inside. 

“Now, might I ask why you were out in the rain?” William asks as soon as you’ve settled into your spot. You bite your lip and wonder if you can trust him with your problems. 

Sherlock trusted him well enough… 

Perhaps…

“I got into an argument with Mycroft. He said my parents will cut off my funding for excavations if I don’t find a proper husband.” You blurt, and he hums as he takes a sip from his cup. 

“I assume they’ve been funding your past archaeological escapades?” He says, and you nod.

“Correct. But that is going to change unless I get married.” You grumble, and he cocks his head to the side, setting his cup down on the tea table next to him and seemingly mulling something over. 

“This may be a bit forward, but I have a proposal. A business proposal, if you will.” He starts, and you narrow your eyes. A business proposal? You set your own cup down and cross one leg over the other. 

“Go on…” You say hesitantly, and he clasps his hands together as if working out a problem in his head. Sherlock did say he was a mathematics professor.

“I could marry you.” You inhale sharply and proceed to choke on your saliva. William half gets out of his chair to come to your aid when you finally get your coughing under control. 

“Why?!” You demand, and he shrugs, 

“I’ve done some research into you. You are spearheading the way in new archaeological techniques. You donate your finds back to the locals in need. And frankly, I find you fascinating. If we go ahead with this, you’ll have access to my brother Albert’s influence as well as the Moriarty name and fortune.” He says, and you sit back, stunned. 

“I could continue my work?” You say skeptically, and he nods. 

“Indeed. There’s no reason to stop you. I might ask for a lecture or two from you at Durham University. But that’s it. So…” He extends a hand for you to shake. “Have we reached an accord?”

You are speechless as possibilities run rampant through your brain. You’d be free from your parent’s influence as well as pleasing them. Though pleasing them was the last thing on your mind. Yes, you’d be married. But like William said… it was more of a business proposal…

You reach forward and shake his hand. His smile widens marginally as you speak,

“I accept your proposal.”

[opencommunion]

please go to a protest for Land Day tomorrow (March 30th) if you can

AUSTRALIA – Hobart / Nipaluna. 1PM Every Saturday @ Davey St. (Grand Chancellor).

CANADA – Antigonish, NS. 1PM Every Saturday @ Antigonish Town Hall. Antigonish 4 Gaza.

CANADA – Montreal. 2PM Land Day Tatreez Workshop @ Refugee Center. PYM Montreal.

CANADA – Ottawa. 2PM Land Day @ Human Rights Monument.

CANADA – Toronto. 2PM Land Day @ Yonge & Dundas. PYM Toronto.

ENGLAND – Halifax. 1PM Every Saturday @ Wilkos on Southgate.

ENGLAND – Hebden Bridge. 3PM Every Saturday @ Holme Street. 4PM @ St George’s Square. West Yorkshire for Palestine.

ENGLAND – London. 11AM @ 7 Tavistock Square. PYM Britain.

ENGLAND – London. 12PM @ Central London. STW UK.

NETHERLANDS – Amsterdam. 7PM Every Night @ Dam Square.

PORTUGAL – Porto. 10PM Every Night Vigil @ Camara Municipal.

SCOTLAND – Orkney. 1PM Every Saturday @ St Magnus Cathedral Steps. Amnesty Orkney.

AZ – Phoenix. 1MP Land Day @ Civic Space Park. PSL Phoenix AZ.

CA – Los Angeles. 1PM Land Day March @ LA City Hall. PYM LA/OC/IE.

CA – Petaluma. 12:30PM Every Saturday @ Petaluma & E Washington. Occupy Pelatuma.

CA – Ventura. 12:30PM @ 181 E Santa Clara St. ANSWER Coalition.

CO – Fort Collins. 3PM Every Saturday @ Old Town Square. NOCO Liberation Coalition.

DC – Washington DC. 4PM @ DuPont Circle. ANSWER Coalition.

FL – Gainesville. 11AM @ Depot Park. ANSWER Coalition.

FL – Orlando. City Hall. TBA. ANSWER Coalition.

FL – Pensacola. PM @ Main & Reus (Blue Wahoos). PSL CGC. 

GA – Atlanta. 2PM @ Consulate of Israel. PYM.

ID – Pocatello. 12PM Every Saturday @ Bannock County Courthouse. Pocatello for Palestine.

IL – Chicago. 1PM @ TBA. USPCN + Chicago SJP.

LA – New Orleans. 3:30PM @ 701 N Rampart St.

MA – Springfield. 2PM @ 36 Court St. ANSWER Coalition.

ME – Portland. 1PM @ Monument Square. PSL Maine.

MI – Detroit. 1:30PM @ Beacon Park. USPCN.

MI – Detroit. 10AM Land Day @ Rouge Park. PYM.

MN – Minneapolis. 2PM @ 2707 West Lake St. ANSWER Coalition.

MT – Kalispell. 12PM Every Saturday @ Main & Center. MT 4 Palestine.

NC – Asheville. 4PM @ 1 N Pack Square. ANSWER Coalition.

NC – Charlotte. 4PM @ Wilmore Centennial Park. CLT 4 Palestine + PSL Carolinas.

NC – Raleigh. 3PM Land Day @ Moore Square. PSL Carolinas.

NC, Charlotte. 4PM @ Wilmore Centennial Park. Land Day. CLT 4 Pali + PSL Carolinas.

NM – Albuquerque. 4PM @ UNM Book Store. ANSWER Coalition.

NY – New York. 12PM @ City Hall Park. Within Our Lifetime.

NY – New York. 12PM Vigil Every Saturday @ 5th & 44th in Brooklyn. Sunset Park Elders.

NY – New York. 5PM @ Times Square. PYM.

NY – Rochester. 1:30PM @ MLK Park. End Apartheid ROC + SJP UR.

OH – Cincinnati. 3PM @ 801 Plum St. ANSWER Coalition.

OH – Cleveland. 2PM Land Day @ Edgewater Upper Pavillion. USCPN.

OH – Columbus. 4PM @ 120 W Goodale St. ANSWER Coalition.

OH – Dayton. 5PM @ 2680 Ridge Ave. ANSWER Coalition.

OH – Wooster. 11AM @ 538 N Market St. ANSWER Coalition.

OR – Bend. 12PM Saturdays @ Peace Corner. Central Oregon 4 Socialism.

OR – Portland. 12PM @ Desert Island Studios. Letters for Palestine PDX.

PA – Philadelphia. 5PM @ 7th & Walnut. ANSWER Coalition.

PA – Pittsburgh. 3:30PM @ 4100 Forbes Ave. ANSWER Coalition.

RI – Providence. 5PM @ Prospect Terr. ANSWER Coalition.

TX – Houston. 1PM @ Waterwall Park. PYM Houston.

TX – San Antonio. 12PM @ 301 E Travis ST. ANSWER Coalition.

VT – Burlington. 1PM @ City Hall. ANSWER Coalition.

WA – Seattle. 2PM Land Day @ Lake Union Park. PYM.

WI – Milwaukee. 1:30PM @ Sijan Park. PSL Milwaukee.

WI – Viroqua. 11AM Vigil Every Saturday @ Main & Decker. Driftless Solidarity / Wolves PSC.

WV – Martinsburg. 12PM Land Day @ Martinsburg Town Square. PSL WV.

DISCLAIMER: I didn't make this list and it's not comprehensive. If you don't see a protest near you, look up what your local orgs are doing, and if you still can't find anything, take autonomous action

[burningvelvet]

Part 3 of PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE ROMANTICS, A TUMBLR HISTORY EXHIBIT: photos i've collected of people related to the english writers of the romantic period and/or who were part of the byron-shelley circle.

Edward John Trelawny (above: a photo of him as an elder compared to a portrait of him as a young man). A key member of the circle, celebrity/adventurer/writer, friend and biographer of Byron and Shelley. Outlived everyone. Proposed to both Mary Shelley and Claire Clairmont and remained in touch with them their whole lives. Really interesting person but also a chronic liar, making it difficult to tell which parts of his life stories are fact or fiction. He is buried next to Shelley (who is buried next to Keats); Trelawny bought the cemetery plot when Shelley died decades prior and later offered it to Mary Shelley who declined it. The last two portraits below were done by Joseph Severn, the artist who was friends with Keats, did most of his portraits, & took care of him as he was dying in Rome. I don't think Trelawny ever met Keats.

Jane Williams Hogg (née Cleveland). She was married to an abusive man named John Edward Johnson who she left for Edward Ellecker Williams, who was the father of her first two children and a friend of Percy Bysshe Shelley's cousin Thomas Medwin. The family then lived in the same household with the Shelley family (Mary, Percy, and their children) in Italy. Percy dedicated some of his last poems to Jane. After Percy and Edward died together in a boating accident she lived with Mary before partnering with Shelley's best friend from college Thomas Jefferson Hogg who she had two children with.

I think the similarity between her younger portrait (1822, age 24) & her photograph (date unknown, but she died in 1884 & seems like she could be in her 80s in the photo) are very striking; you can clearly see the nose, eyes, hair, and mouth are exactly the same, only older.

She also knew George Eliot and William Michael Rossetti; I mentioned the Rossettis in my last post. I wonder if she ever discussed Shelley's connection to John Polidori with them; I don't believe she ever met John Polidori, but maybe the Shelleys would have mentioned him to her.

Thomas Medwin, another key player of the Shelley-Byron circle in Italy. Cousin of Percy Bysshe Shelley and friend/biographer of Shelley and Byron.

Wilhelm Charles Gaulis Clairmont, the nephew of Clara Mary Jane Clairmont aka Claire Clairmont. Wilhelm was the son of her half-brother Charles Gaulis Clairmont.

[lotte22324]

Hi, this is my first Oneshot ever and I am kinda nervous for yall to see it. This idea randomly popped into my head, I don’t know why.

Also, English is not my first language, so please ignore the mistakes.

Warnings: mentioning of the case and connected SA (but only in the beginning)

Summary: You are a profiler at the BAU. You specialise in linguistic analysis and also in having a pretty cutsie style. You and Spencer are both working late on a case and his stupid long hair annoys him but you luckily got some hairclips with you :)

(These are the bows that I am talking about btw)

You and the team were on the way to Cleveland, attending to a particularly disturbing case. Multiple mutilated victims were found, all indicated signs of sexual assault, post mortem. All of them were women but none of them looked alike. The only thing that they had in common were the position in which they were found. They all were layed down carefully with their arms crossed above their chest.

"The arms are a sign of remorse right?“

"Yeah, it’s clear that the killer has a conflicted conscience in the connection to the murders.“ said Reid. You turned your head to the right side to see your fellow profiler. His hair was long, longer than ever before, he was wearing a purple dress shirt with s simple tie. His converse were matching to yours, the only thing in common with your wardrobe. You were wearing a skyblue blouse with a dark blue pair of pants. The outfit was professional, the hair not so much. You wore two hairclips in the front of your hair because they would often fall in front of your face which annoyed you. The clips had two pink bows attached to them and they matched your pink earrings and nails.

"If the unsub feels guilty about the murders, we might be able to convince him to give himself up“ remarked JJ. Emily looked at her skeptical and held up the letter that the unsub left at the last crime scene, one of six: She will never stop, only I can fix it! "This says otherwise“

"It is weird that he shows signs of remorse but he also seems extremely certain of his resason to murder, what does he need to fix?“ asked Reid while he knitted his eyebrows together, like he always did when he was thinking. It looked too cute, you couldn’t stop the smile creeping up on your face. "Linguistically, it’s clear that the "she“ that he speaks of is one specific person, probably some sort of authority figure for him, probably a mother“ you remarked. Hotchner nodded his head, a plan already in mind. "Y/l/n you will do a linguistic profile, try to find a pattern or identification marks in all of the letters. Reid, look at the geographical pattern, the locations where the bodies were found might give us a clue where the unsub lives. Morgan and Rossi, you two go to the last crime scene, Emily, you and I will interview the families. Lets catch this guy!“

„I guess your stuck with me at the precinct, pretty boy!“ you said playfully to Reid but all he did was blush and turn his head awkwardly to the side. Morgan shoot him a knowing look but you didn’t think about it too much.

Later that evening, you and Reid were the only ones left in the room designated for your investigation. A hot cup of coffee was standing in front of you, you knew you were in for a long nighty You had been looking at these letters for hours on end, trying to find identifying markers. The only thing that became apparent is that the letters and the murders are definitely about the unsubs mother. They were all about 60, the letters showed clear signs of conflicted hatred and love toward the mother and connected abuse. Maybe she hit him or she was just a very dominant personality who commanded all the men in her life and broke their will if she needed to. Reid was also standing in front of his map for the last few hours, rearranging the pins and drawing new circles and xes on it. Looking over, you did not see a clear pattern at all but maybe his genius brain could make sense of all of the colors on the board. Your eyes shifted from the map to him and the way he kept adjusting his hair. He wanted to tuck it behind his ears but it fell into his face again and again. "Ugh, why? Maybe I need to cut my hair again“ he mumbled annoyed. "Nooo, please don’t! I like your hair like this“ you answered quickly. "But its always in my face and whenever I tuck it back, it falls in front of it again“ Reid remarked, pushing his hair back aggressively. But all it did was fall back infront of his ear and Reid let out an annoyed groan. You stood up and moved towards the man: "here, take one of my clips! My hair is long enough so that I can easily tuck it behind my ear“ you said, quickly taking one of the bows out of your hair. As you kept going, the clip in your hand, he looked at you skeptical: "thank you, y/n but I don’t think that would suit me as much as it suits you“

You blushed involuntarily at that indirect compliment, "oh come on, no one is here anymore, you won’t be less of a man if you wear this pink bow in your hair!“ you rolled your eyes as you halted infront of him with a questioning look. „Okay, fine“ he hesitantly answered and you gave him a reassuring smile. You leaned forward, pushing his hair back as you clip in the pink bow. You felt how soft his hair was. As you let your hand trail down his head, you let it linger a bit too long. Just as Spencer cleared his throat, you realized that and let your hand fall quickly to your side. "All done, you look cute“ you blushed as you took a step back. But your blush didn’t compare to his. The minute he saw himself in the reflection of the glass board where he drew his map on, his face turned as red as a tomato. The pink bow clearly on display, matching to yours. Now not only your shoes were matching but also your hair. "Uh, thank you y/n“ he said after a while. But you didn’t even realize what he said because all you could do was stare at him. He had never looked this cute in his life. Not with his glasses, not with any of his haircuts. You felt a fluttering feeling in your tummy. Here he was, Spencer Reid, wearing your pink bow in his hair. You couldn’t believe the sight you were witnessing. Even though you didn’t have an eidetic memory, you would never forget this. As you kept starring at his face, your brain filling with all the accessories of yours Reid could wear, he kept staring right back. But instead of thinking about all the different hair clips you had, he couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty you looked. The slight blush that spread over your face, the blown pupils as they were looking at him. The way your mouth was slightly opened, the curve of your lips perfectly kissable.

"Yo, I forgot my-" Morgan stepped insight, both of you taking a step back, not realizing in the moment how close you two were standing and looking embarrassed towards Morgan. "Uhm, sorry for…disturbing, I just forgot my wallet here“ he said, moving toward the table. Your eyes shifted, there it was, lying underneath all the letters you had just looked at. "Alright, have a good night you two! Pretty bow, Reid, your lil girlfriend should lend you her things more often“ Morgan winked as he walked out of the room. Both of you stood there in silence, looking down onto the floor. Spencer raised his hand in embarrassment and tried to detangle the bow from his hair. "Noo, you look so pretty with it Spencer, you shouldn’t give a damn about Morgans opinion!“ you reassured him. He gave you a smile as his hand slowly fell down. "You know that is not fair“ Reid remarked. "What isn’t fair?" You looked confused. "Well, I would wear anything as long as you think i‘m pretty even if that would be the most impractical thing on this planet.“

"That can’t be true!“ you laughed.

"Do you remember four months ago when we saw that shampoo ad on some billboard in Texas with a man on it with long, shiny hair?“

Honest to god, you really didn’t. "Uhm, not really…“

"Well, you said that you love men with long hair and it seemed like you looked right at me. I, obviously had short hair at that time. But from that moment on, I decided to let my hair grow longer“ Spencer confessed.

"You grew your hair long because of me? Because I said that I find men with long hair prettier? That makes no sense, why would you care what I think about y-" then it hit you. He wanted you to find him attractive. He wanted you to see him as pretty. You took a step towards him, his gaze avoiding you, he seemed more focused on his shoes than on you. "Reid" you said quietly, him still not looking at you. "Spencer, if you don’t look up now, I’ll leave and you’ll never find out what I’m thinking about right now“ you threaten, his gaze hastily rising. You took another step towards him, this time a bit less sure than before. It seemed like time froze as you slowly raised your hand towards Reids face. "May I touch you?" You asked hesitantly, knowing that he wasn’t the biggest fan of non-consensual physical touch. He nodded his head and finally met your gaze. His eyes shifted up and down, between your eyes and lips. As you cupped his cheek, it seemed like the spell on him was broken. His face inched closer and closer until his lips met yours. The tension that you felt for the last few months finally found an escape and both of you seemed to feel relieved. His hands found your waist, as he pulled you closer to his body, your other hand tangling itself up in his hair. After a few moments both of you had to pull away to gasp for air. Smiles crept up on both of your faces as you realized what had just happened. He didn’t let your waist go, you didn’t want him to do that anyway. "You know what, Reid?" You asked humorously.

"What?" He asked back.

"I wanted to do that even before you let your hair grow out“ you answered him truthfully. Ever since you joined the team, you wanted to kiss him. It didn’t matter what his hair looked like or if he wore his glasses or not.

"You’re joking right? All of this agony for nothing then?“ he asked dumbfounded, pointing at his long hair.

"Oh no, definitely not for nothing! I got to see you wearing my pink bow and that is a sight, that I will never forget!“ you giggled and pulled him into a hug that he happily reciprocated.

P.S.: I hope you guys liked this, it is kinda strange to always read fanfic and now actually writing it. I guess my Spencer Reid obsession made me do it :) yall will probably understand, hahahaha.

[meruz]

okay this is gonna sound weird but uhh have you ever been to the hardware store in Florence, Arizona? bc your illustration reminds me of it (cramped shelves and mysterious downstairs staircase and all)

oooh I have not.. my drawing is actually mostly based off one in boston (the one by cleveland circle hehe... if theres any bostonians reading this)! but i love hearing abt similar places!!!... i think one of the most rewarding things abt drawing bgs/environments is that maybe more than any other drawing they can evoke very specific memory and feeling.... also hardware stores are kind of underrated imo?! esp local ones... i feel like theres a cultural focus on big box hardware stores like lowes and home depot but the small local ones are like.. what bodegas and corner stores are to big supermarket chains.

anyways heres the reference pics i smashed together to come up with my composition

[amtrak-official]

I know another Urban Mass Transit Act isn't happening but if it did ever happen this would be my wishlist

Sepulveda Pass and Northern K Line Extension in LA

Cincinnati Streetcar extensions to Newport and UC

Waterfront Line and at least one other new line in Cleveland

MARTA expansion

New light rail systems in Louisville and Columbus

Chicago Circle Line

New Lines on the T in Boston

Northern and Eastern lines on the T in Pittsburgh

BART to San Jose

Houston Metrorail expansion

New Light rail Lines in Austin

Second Subway Line in Buffalo and extenion to the University of Buffalo

Metrolink STL North-South Line

Something for Milwaukee

North Shore Line re-opening

[sigynpenniman]

AIRPORT TIERLIST OF AIRPORTS I’VE BEEN THROUGH FROM SOMEONE WHO FUCKING LOVES AIRPORTS

S TIER:

- MCO Orlando. My love my queen. Platonic ideal of airports. All the other airports wanna be her.

- MSY New Orleans - I have only seen your beautiful face once but your vibes were just impeccable. I miss you beautiful

A TIER:

- LHR London Heathrow - you’re so chill and sweet to be such a major airport. Weirdly calming somehow. Sterile, but the big boy of London airports. When you’re here you’re in London. Smells like joy.

- CDG Charles DeGaulle Paris. Dripping in stunning retro futurism and has a Concorde on stands by the runway. We love her

- DCA Ronald Reagan Washington DC. So pretty. So clean. So easy to navigate. Prevented from S tier status by being one long skinny thing with no way to get quickly across it.

B TIER:

- DEN Denver Colorado. Architecture for the gods but somehow the vibes are off. I’d fly through you again happily but I don’t feel especially warm when I think of you.

- FLL Fort Lauderdale - Hollywood. You’re permanently attached to very warm memories for me because of the trip I took from you but you’re just kind of there. Vibes are off. Meh.

- ORD Chicago O’hare. Aesthetic perfection but weirdly stressful. While I had a great time on this trip I do not think warmly of the airport other than the rainbow lighting. Jules got yelled at here. -10 points.

- CLE Cleveland Ohio. Another airport that is home of warm memories due to loved ones but just really not the vibe as an airport.

C TIER:

- LGW London Gatwick. I don’t like you for no reason. Like a disappointment, you’re in London but not at Heathrow for some reason.

- PHL Philadelphia. Again, weird aimless dislike. I cannot justify.

- BNA Nashville. Meh. Fine, which may be the worst insult I can lob at an airport.

D TIER:

- LGA New York LaGaurdia. Fuck you and your tiny spirit terminal in the middle of nowhere and your hard to access rental cars and your poor road signage that sent me round and round on the New York interstate in my rented Corolla. The bigger terminals are pretty though, and anyway. New York City!

E TIER:

JAX Jacksonville. Ew.

F TIER:

BOS Boston Logan International Airport. I loathe you. Less busy numerically than ATL and yet somehow even more spread out. Signage is bad. Directions unclear. Nothing makes sense in this alternate reality. Labyrinthine building designed by the god Hades. Never again would be too soon.

UNTIERABLE:

ATL - Hartsfield Jackson Atlanta. The biggest and busiest airport in the world. When you buy a ticket on Delta a box pops up that says “by buying this ticket you agree to see the inside of Hartsfield Jackson Airport.” Not actually a real place, but a floating parallel dimensional space you enter when you walk through the doors. When you get off the Plane Train at terminal D a sign to the left points down a hallway and says “Walk to Terminal E. Time: 45 minutes.” Bigger than many cities and some European principalities. And sometimes you’ll be forced to run clear across it when your gate gets changed. Send every domestic flight that goes near it and many that don’t through it for a completely unnecessary 45 minute layover and sautée until golden brown to birth this unholy god of a space outside all time. They have CPR training machines. They have bathrooms too rarely. They have a whole other airport underneath for international transfers. Don’t die before you see it. Everyone should, at least once. 🎶Welcome Aboard the Plane Train!🎶 next stop: the 4th circle of hell. Walk to purgatory: 45 minutes. Moving sidewalk out of order.

[too-many0-0fandoms]

Part 2 baby :) 2024 driver line-up

F1 Drivers as horse breeds (Part 2)

Carlos Sainz Jr

Carlos is also an Andalusian (Like Fernando) just a bit younger and not yet at the top of his game :) I imagine him and Fernando being related somehow also :)

Sergio 'Checo' Perez

Checo was a bit difficult, buttt I finally ended up on a somewhat tired, calm and lazier lesson horse that doesn’t really like going around in circles with the younger kids. Maybe he only loves when the ‘real’ equestrians ride him because they know what they’re doing :) As a breed I chose a Galiceno pony, an endangered Mexican pony breed that are really good sportponies!

George Russel

For George, because of his bit more regal attitude (PR prince George), I chose a Cleveland Bay. This is also an endangered breed, English, that is used a lot by the English royal family. I imagine him as one of the main carriage horses, calm and collected and reliable.

Oscar Piastri

(Go Oscar! Maiden win baby!!) For Oscar I picked a Waler horse because this is a very general looking warmblood breed, but is actually a pretty unique breed from Australia! I imagine him as a pretty skilled showjumper that is calm and looks pretty lazy but loves going fast and jumping high.

Zhou Guanyu

For Zhou I actually imagine him as a pretty good racehorse, not as great as Lewis or Seabiscuit but definitely decent. But mostly I imagine him getting really popular because he’s a pure white horse or like a very rare coat or an more average coat with a somatic mutation :)

Kevin Magnussen

When I was researching Danish horse breeds I came across the Jutlander draft horse and somehow it just fit perfectly. Just imagine a taller an a tad more lanky baroque type Nico and a smaller, chunky and round Kevin ;3 I imagine him being stalled at the same estate/stable as Nico and that they started out as ‘enemies’, constantly fighting but that they switched up pretty fast and now they’re bff’s!

Yuki Tsunoda

For Yuki I immediately knew what breed; a Shetland pony >:) I imagine him doing marathons with his owner. A really cheeky, stubborn pony that loves to work and food even more.

Alex Albon

For Alex I tried really hard to find a Taiwanese breed, but I just couldn’t find one. So I went with a Hackney Horse. A nice and flashy breed, I imagine Alex being a silly little goofball, a happy go lucky type that loves to show off but also loves playing in the field.

Lance Stroll

Lance was actually really hard to get a read on >.< But eventually I ended up on a Rocky Mountain Horse. This five-gated horse breed, that originates from Kentucky, is hard working, loves to go on trial rides and is a good show horse. I imagine Lance going on weeks long trail rides through the words with his owner, enjoying stretching his legs over the vast plains.

[betterbooktitles]

The first time I ever saw someone answer a cell phone in a movie theater was in the middle of a midnight screening of Mel Gibson’s The Passion Of The Christ. A blood-drenched Jim Caviezel was being whipped when I heard “Hello? Yeah, what’s good? I’m in the movie.” My stomach started to bounce as I tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh. My friend Jeremy elbowed me to either egg me on or stop me, knowing the laughter would catch on with the rest of our group: ten other Saint Ignatius High School students who chose to go on an “Urban Immersion” retreat our senior year.

I saw Mr. Grady’s tear-stained face turn in the darkness. He was sitting a row in front of us, and he appeared to be livid. He let out a sharp “shhh!” then looked over to let us know he’d do far worse if we did anything further to disrupt his viewing experience. Disciplinary actions would be taken if we giggled again. Our trip would be cut short. A teacher threatening to send us all home to our parents that week, however, would have been welcomed.

Most Ignatius students went on “Kairos” retreats (Greek: “God’s Time”) that featured three days of camping and praying, followed by a “witness” portion where students arrived back on campus to share, at the center of St. Mary’s chapel, what they’d learned during their period of reflection. Typically, they said “I love you, Dad!” while fighting back tears before running back to their pews. They also wrote letters about their newfound or newly confirmed love of Jesus Christ. I received one of these letters from my best friend who was a year ahead of me. His words moved and excited me. I anticipated my trip all year.

The students in the movie theater with me that night, however, had all signed up for a retreat in which we spent the week living as if on the streets of inner-city Cleveland. The Urban Immersion retreat was four days of sleeping in a church basement, living off the equivalent of food stamps (about $5 a day for groups of four), and eating the rest of our meals at shelters where we also volunteered our time. There was also a “scared straight” period where we sat in a circle of folding chairs at the 2100 men’s shelter my friend Luke’s dad ran and listened to grown men scream about how “crack does not discriminate!” 

Also, we got to see The Passion of The Christ opening night.

Perhaps you read about the record-setting earnings this movie made the week it premiered. The first $125 million was thanks to big groups like ours attending. Also thanks to the guy who had to answer his phone while the Romans killed Christ. I’m not sure how we as mock-poor kids on our immersion trip were supposed to be able to afford the movie ourselves in keeping with the rules, but the timing seemed right, so our teachers took us.

Read the rest here.