#york maze

[sheltiechicago]

York, UK

An image of Tutankhamun cut from a six-hectare (15-acre) field of maize plants, which has been created at the York Maze to mark the centenary of the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb. Created using more than 1m maize plants, covering an area the size of eight Wembley football pitches, and standing more than 150 metres tall, the York Maze is the largest maze in the UK

Photograph: Danny Lawson/PA

[emaadsidiki]

Happy🥳 Halloween👻 Minecraft👽 Witchcraft🕷️

[nemesisvariant]

I've consistently gotten out of the wizard maze so often that I just keep going back to visit. If you even care. The key is kindness toward the beasts

[goodblacknews]

MUSIC MONDAY: "Golden Time of Day" - A Tribute to Frankie Beverly Playlist (LISTEN)

by Marlon West (FB: marlon.west1 Threads: @stlmarlonwest IG: stlmarlonwest Spotify: marlonwest) Being your groove chauffeur at GBN is the closest I’ll ever come to having a blog or column. In the years I’ve pecked write-ups for these Music Monday playlists, I have often discovered new tracks and artists in an attempt to be comprehensive in my collections. I have more than once received wonderful…

[grizzlyofthesea]

The Monster High Movie Doll Tournament!

Round One starts today! Each poll will only be up for 24 hours, so make sure to vote before it's too late!

[fipindustries]

is always interesting which of the classics i see and in what order through my life i see them. i saw the sound of music and forest gump and titanic when i was a little kid, clockwork orange and the rocky horror picture show and the big lebowsky when i was in highschool, pulp fiction and annie hall and the citizen kane in my first years of college, the cabinet of doctor caligari and 2001 space oddisey and the life of brian late in college, schindlers list and rescuing private brian and 12 angry men when i was 27 and i just saw dracula by coppola and alien now that im 31.

i stll havent seen the godfather, metropolis, its a wonderful life, dog day afternoon, taxi driver, the great dictator or lawrence of arabia, though id really like to.

there are just so many good movies to watch!

[rabbitcruiser]

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day 

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day is celebrated annually on January 23. Considered a British classic by various culinary experts, sticky toffee pudding is also widely enjoyed in Australia and New Zealand as sticky date pudding. Although the name indicates pudding, some say that this dessert is a cross between a pudding and a cake. But it doesn’t really matter. Today is about celebrating and enjoying a moist sponge cake made with finely chopped dates covered in toffee sauce often served with custard, cream, or ice cream. Sounds really sweet and yummy.

History of International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day

The origin of sticky toffee pudding is still a mystery and a continuing dispute within the culinary industry. So far, there are three claims for the invention of sticky toffee pudding. Yorkshire claims that it was invented by the landlady of the Gait Inn in Millington in 1907. Cumbria claims that it dates back to the Sharrow Bay Country House, where an “icky sticky toffee sponge” developed by Francis Coulson and Robert Lee appeared on the menu in 1960. Scottish claims that the sticky toffee pudding was first served in 1967 at the Udny Arms Hotel in Newburgh, Aberdeenshire.

In 1989, Howard and Jean Johns of Cartmel Village Shop in Cumbria developed their version of sticky toffee pudding for takeaway. They first came to Cartmel in 1971. They had been making their version of sticky toffee pudding since 1984, and their creation became popular. They made only 25 puddings per week at first. Now, they make a million per year and they are sold all over the world. They say that their pudding contains 100% natural ingredients with no preservatives. That’s probably one of the keys to their success.

There are so many recipes for sticky toffee pudding. Sticky toffee pudding itself contains two essential components. Number one is the moist sponge cake made with finely chopped dates. It is usually light and fluffy. Number two is the toffee sauce made from cream and sugar. Sticky toffee pudding is often served with vanilla custard or vanilla ice cream to complement its flavor. International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day is a day to experiment with it by making one from scratch.

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day timeline

1907 The Gait Inn

The landlady of the Gait Inn in Millington makes sticky toffee pudding.

1960 The Sharrow Bay Country House

A sticky toffee sponge developed by Francis Coulson and Robert Lee appears on the menu of the hotel.

1967 The Udny Arms Hotel

A sticky toffee pudding is served in the Udny Arms Hotel.

1989 Cartmel Village Shop

Howard and Jean Johns of Cartmel Village Shop in Cumbria develop takeaway sticky toffee pudding.

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day FAQs

Can you freeze sticky toffee pudding?

Yes, you can freeze sticky toffee pudding for up to three months.

Who invented the pudding dessert?

It is said that the pudding is a British invention developed from the sausages that the Romans brought into the country in the first century B.C.

What is the oldest British dessert?

Bread and butter pudding is one of the oldest recorded British desserts, dating back to the early 1700s.

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day Activities

Tell your family and friends

Make your version

Try the takeaway pudding

Tell them about the special day and invite them over. You may want to share the joy of enjoying this delicious dessert with your loved ones. You can also exchange recipes if they have their own versions of sticky toffee pudding.

You may try your own recipe for sticky toffee pudding that you haven’t made yet. Today is the best time for you to realize it and see how it tastes. Hopefully, it will be as good as you expected.

Cartmel Sticky Toffee Pudding is so popular and contains 100% natural ingredients. You may want to buy one as a comparison for your version of sticky toffee pudding.

5 Facts About Dates You Need To Know

They are nutritious

They have numerous types

They’ve been around for a long time

Date palm tree is a national symbol

They provide necessary minerals

Dates are a good source of fiber, rich in calories, calcium, potassium, magnesium, and iron.

The United Arab Emirates has over 199 different types of dates, with around 44 million palm trees.

Dates have been around for thousands of years and are very popular in the Middle East.

The date palm tree is the national symbol of Saudi Arabia and is known as the “tree of life” in the Middle East.

Dates provide all the necessary minerals and vitamins the body needs.

Why We Love International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day

It’s delicious

A day to try it

To experiment with it

Sticky toffee pudding is a delicious dessert. Served with vanilla ice cream, it is perfect. It is one of the best dishes for people with a sweet tooth.

Maybe some of us never tried sticky toffee pudding. International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day is the best time to try this classic.

International Sticky Toffee Pudding Day allows us to experiment with this dessert. We can experiment with the toffee sauce especially.

Source

[liverpool-enjoyer]

nothing but respect for MY mets fan

[dailyrothko]

No, the Popularity of Abstract Art is Not the Result of a CIA PsyOp

If you are unlucky enough to move around the internet these days and talk about art, you’ll find that many “First commenters” will hit you with what they see as some hard truth about your taste in art. Comments usually start with how modern art is “money laundering” always comically misunderstanding what that means. What they are saying is that, of course, rich people use investments as tax shelters and things like expensive antiques and art appraised at high prices to increase their net worth. Oh my god, I’ve been red-pilled. The rich getting richer? I have never heard of such a thing.

What is conveniently left out of this type of comment is that the same valuation and financial shenanigans occur with baseball cards, wine, vacation homes, guitars, and dozens of other things. It does indeed happen with art, but even the kind that the most conservative internet curator can appreciate. After all, Rembrandts are worth money too, you just don’t see many because he’s not making any more of them. The only appropriate response to these people who are, almost inevitably themselves, the worst artists you have ever seen, is silence. It would cruel to ask about their own art because there’s a danger they might actually enjoy such a truly novel experience.

When you are done shaking your head that you just subjected yourself to an argument about the venality of poor artists plotting to make their work valuable after they died, you can certainly then enjoy the accompanying felicity of the revelation they have saved to knock you off your feet: “Abstract art is a CIA PsyOp”

Here one must get ready either to type a lot or to simply say “Except factually” and go along your merry, abstract-art-loving way. But what are the facts? Unsurprisingly with things involving US government covert operations, the facts are not so clear.

Like everything on the internet, you are unlikely to find factual roots to the arguments about government conspiracies and modern art. The mere idea of it is enough to bring blossom for the “I’m not a sheep” crowd, some of whom believe that a gold toilet owning former president is a morally good, honest hard-working man of the people.

The roots of this contention come from a 1973 article in Artforum magazine, where art critic Max Kozloff wrote about post-war American painting in the context of the Cold War, centering around Irving Sandler’s book, The Triumph of American Painting (1970). Kozloff takes on more than just abstract expressionism in his article but condemns the “Self-congratulatory mood”of Sandler’s book and goes on to suggest the rise of abstract expressionism was a “Benevolent form of propaganda”. Kozoloff treads a difficult line here, asserting that abstraction was genuinely important to American art but that its luminaries, “have acquired their present blue-chip status partly through elements in their work that affirm our most recognizable norms and mores.”

While there were rumblings of agreements around Kozloff’s article of broad concerns, it did not give birth to an actual conspiracy theory at the time. The real public apprehension of this idea seems to mostly come from articles written by historian Frances Stonor Saunders in support of her book, “The Cultural Cold War: The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters” (New York, New Press, 2000). (I have not read this 525 page book, only excerpts).

The gist of Ms. Saunders argument is a tantalizing, but mostly unsupported, labyrinthine maze of back door funding and novelistic cloak and dagger deals. According to Saunders, the Congress for Cultural Freedom (CCF), an anti-communist cultural organization founded in 1950, was behind the promotion of Abstract art as part of their effort to be opinion makers in the war against communism. In 1966 it was revealed that the CCF was funded by the CIA. Saunders says that the CCF financed a litany of art exhibitions including “The New American Painting” which toured Europe in the late 1950s. Some of this is true, but it’s difficult, if not impossible, to know the specifics.

Noted expert in abstract-expressionism, David Anfam said CIA presence was real. It was “a well-documented fact” that the CIA co-opted Abstract Expressionism in their propaganda war against Russia. “Even The New American Painting [exhibition] had some CIA funding behind it,” he says. But the reasons for this are not quite what the abstract art detractors might be looking for. After all, the CCF also funded the travel expenses for the Boston Symphony Orchestra and promoted Fodor’s travel guides. More than trying to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, it was meant to showcase the freedom artists in the US. enjoyed. Or as Anfam goes on to say, “It’s a very shrewd and cynical strategy, because it showed that you could do whatever you liked in America.”

For what it’s worth, Saunders’s book was eviscerated in the Summer 2000 issue of Art Forum at the time of its publication. Robert Simon wrote:

“Saunders draws extensively on primary and secondary sources, focusing on the convoluted money trail as it twists through dummy corporations, front men, anonymous donors, and phony fund-raising events aimed at filling the CCF’s coffers. She makes lengthy forays into such topics as McCarthyism, the formation and operation of the CIA, the propaganda work of the Hollywood film industry, and New York cultural politics—from Partisan Review to MoMA to Abstract Expressionism. Yet what seems strangely absent from Saunders’s panoramic history, as if it were a minor detail or something too obvious to require discussion, is the cultural object itself: The complex specifics of the texts, exhibitions, intellectual gatherings, paintings, and performances of the culture war are largely left out of the story.”

Another problem with the book seems to be that Saunders is an historian but not an art historian. For me, I sensed an overtone of superiority in the tale she’s spinning and most assuredly from those that repeat its conclusion. The thinly veiled message of some is that if it were “Real art” it would not have had be part of this government subterfuge. The reality is very different. For one thing, most of us know it is simply not true that you can make people devoted to a type of art for 100 years that they would sensibly hate otherwise. Another issue is that it’s quite obvious none of the artists actually knew about any government interference if there was any. Pollock, Rothko, Gottlieb and Newmann were all either communists or anarchists. Hardly the group one would recruit the help the US government free the world of communism. Additionally, this narrow cold war timeline ignores a huge amount of abstract art that Jackson Pollock haters also revile and consider part of the same hijacking of high (Frankly, Greek, Roman, or Renaissance) culture. If you look at the highly abstract signature work of Piet Mondrian and observe the dates they were painted, you’ll see 1908, 1914, 1916. This is some of the art denigrated as a CIA PsyOP, 35 years before the CIA even thought about it. Modern art didn’t come from nowhere as many would have you believe to discredit its rise. There was Surrealism, Dada, Bauhaus, Russian futurism and a host of other movements that fueled it.

Generally, people like to argue. On the internet, “I don’t like this” is a weak statement that always must be replaced by “This is garbage” or my favorite, “This is fake.”

It’s hardly surprising that the more conservative factions of our society look for any government involvement in our lives to explain why things are not exactly as they wish them to be, given the (highly ironic) conservative government-blaming that blew up after Reagan. In addition, modern fascists have always had a love affair with the classical fantasy of Greece and Rome. Both Mussolini and Hitler used Greece and Rome as “Distant models” to address their uncertain national identity. The Nazis confiscated more than 5,000 works in German museums, presenting 650 of them in the Entartete Kunst (Degenerate Art, 1937) show to demonstrate the perverted nature of modern art. It featured artists including Marc Chagall, Max Ernst, Wassily Kandinsky, and Paul Klee, among others. The fear of art was real. It was the fear of ideas.

To a lot of people on the internet just the mentioning a “CIA program” is enough to get the cogs turning, but as with many things, the reality of CIA programs and government plots is often less than evidence of well planned coup.

The CIA reportedly spent 20 millions dollars on Operation Acoustic Kitty which intended to use cats to spy on the Kremlin and Soviet embassies. Microphones were planted on cats and plans were set in motion to get the cats to surreptitiously record important conversations. However, the CIA soon discovered that they were cats and not agreeable to any kind of regulation of their behavior.

As part of Operation Mongoose the CIA planned to undermine Castro's public image by putting thallium salts in his shoes, which would cause his beard to fall out, while he was on a trip outside Cuba. He was expected to leave his shoes outside his hotel room to be polished, at which point the salts would be administered. The plan was abandoned because Castro canceled the trip.

Regardless of your feelings on this subject or how much you believe abstract art benefited from government dollars, Saunders herself quotes in her book a CIA officer apparently involved in these “Long leash” influence operations. He says, “We wanted to unite all the people who were writers, who were musicians, who were artists, to demonstrate that the West and the United States was devoted to freedom of expression and to intellectual achievement, without any rigid barriers as to what you must write, and what you must say, and what you must do.” Hardly the Illuminati plot we were promised.

In 2016, Irving Sandler, author of the book that started Kozloff tirading in 1973, told Alastair Sooke of The Daily Telegraph, “There was absolutely no involvement of any government agency. I haven’t seen a single fact that indicates there was this kind of collusion. Surely, by now, something – anything – would have emerged. And isn’t it interesting that the federal government at the time considered Abstract Expressionism a Communist plot to undermine American society?”

This blog post contains information and quotes sourced from The Piper Played to Us All: Orchestrating the Cultural Cold War in the USA, Europe, and Latin America, Russell H. Bartley International Journal of Politics, Culture, and Society, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Spring, 2001), pp. 571-619 (49 pages) https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20161004-was-modern-art-a-weapon-of-the-cia https://brill.com/view/journals/fasc/8/2/article-p127_127.xml?language=en https://www.guggenheim-bilbao.eus/en/learn/schools/teachers-guides/the-dark-side-of-classicism https://www.artforum.com/features/american-painting-during-the-cold-war-212902/ https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/modern-art-was-cia-weapon-1578808.html https://www.artforum.com/columns/frances-stonor-saunders-162391/ https://www.artforum.com/features/abstract-expressionism-weapon-of-the-cold-war-214234/ Mark Rothko and the Development of American Modernism 1938-1948 Jonathan Harris, Oxford Art Journal, Vol. 11, No. 1 (1988), pp. 40-50 (11 pages)

[tizeline]

So I've already established that AU Leo has a tendency to abuse his portaling abilities to just go and explore a bunch of places, including New York, which leads to him stumbling across Run Of The Mill several years before he does in canon. And of course he loves the place, the food's great, the Maze of Death is good for training and he gets to hang out with Hueso! Hueso does not enjoy Leo constantly showing up to bother him when he's trying to work, but it's not like he can just kick him out. This is one of THE Baron Draxum's sons, Hueso is already in trouble with yokai law-enforcement and the last thing he needs is more enemies. (And no, he does not have a soft spot for Leo, what are you talking about)

Anway that's all fine and dandy, until two particular individuals happen to stumble across the restaurant....

Similar to in the show, some time after Donnie's first encounter with the Draxum family, him and April find Hueso's restaurant as well and starts to frequent the place. And considering Leo's a regular, well, it's not long until they happen to visit at the same time and uh-

This happens pretty soon after Donnie first reunites with his brothers, but they've encounteredeach other a couple of times in between then and now, which means that the Drax Trio have had time to come to terms with the fact that Donnie is not planning on joining their team any time soon. And while they want to change that, they realize that for the time being he is currently an enemy. Mikey and Raph are still pretty hesitant to fight him, but Leo and Donnie pretty early on established a "fight each other on sight" dynamic, because of course they did.

All of this is to say, as soon as they lay eyes on each other in the restaurant, they immidietly start duking it out! Hueso understandibly does not appreciate such a ruckus in his fine establishment, so out of respect for Hueso the twins agree to avoid any fighting in the restaurant specifically.

Now, you would think that at least one of them would have the common sense to just avoid the place, but they're both stubborn and petty AF and so Leo and Donnie keep running into each other there! And they do respect the no-fight-rule.... to a certain extent. The rule was specifically for physical fights and says nothing about verbal ones! So every time Leo and Donnie run into each other they keep insulting each other to provoke the other into attacking them, which would lead to that twin getting kicked out and hopefully banned for life!

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Pt. 2

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Part 1

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Normally, the inside of a freezer would be packed with boxes of meat or other cold food. Normally, a freezer would just be a place where workers popped in, grabbed the item they were looking for, and popped out. Unfortunally, this was no normal freezer. Behind the large wall of maze like boxes, was a large room.

Miguel's lazy gaze followed out of the maze and into the ice cold room. There, in the middle, was a man hanging upside down. Miguel's men all moved away from the hanging man, waiting for their boss' order. Miguel let out a quick sigh, watching his breathe.

"I only like to be this cold in the winter," Miguel started as he walked around the upside down, "What month is it?"

The prisoner just spat towards the floor, refusing to answer. His scowl towards Miguel and his men was filled with anger. Miguel scoffed in response and snapped his fingers. In and instant, Ben punched the man in the stomach. Peter bend down and grabbed the enemy by the hair.

"I don't like repeating myself."

"Tch, September." The man hissed. Miguel scoffed again,

"So winter is still a ways away." He stood in front of the man and pulled out a large meat cutting tool, "Vulture has some nerve having his men enter my territory. Looks like I'll have to teach him a lesson again."

"Kill me all you want, but Vulture won't be shaken by the likes of you!"

"Kill?" Miguel snorted, his cruel laugh echoing the freezer, "You must be new. We Spiders don't kill-"

Peter and Ben dropped the man to the ground, ignoring his grunts. The two brought him to a chair and held him down. Miguel's smirk grew wider as he approached the man slowly,

"Simplemente romperemos cada hueso de tu cuerpo. Una vez que hayas aprendido tu error, haremos lo que hacen las arañas y te sacaremos de tu miseria. (We'll just break every bone in your body. Once you learned your mistake, then we'll do as Spiders do and put you out of your misery.)"

--------------

It was finally time for you to go home. Your body was exhausted from working. If everyday was going to be like this, you honestly might not last. Slowly making your way out of the supermarket with some groceries, you whimpered. After walking a block, you finally cried. It was such a rough day.

The sheer pressure of everyone's presence was going to break you. Rubbing your eyes, you whimpered as people passed you by without a care. That was normal. It was normal. Shuddering a sigh, you continued to walk to your new home. No one ever checked up on you. No one ever thought to care how your feelings were. So why bother now?

Once you finally arrived home, you put your groceries away, showered and plopped onto your bed. You were too tired to make dinner. Too tired to check your laundry. Reaching for your phone, you double checked your alarms in case you fell asleep. As you did, you saw a text from one of your friends.

'Hey, so I know you don't want Eddie to know you moved, but like, he seems really worried.'

Your eyes started to tear up. Some friend. They were falling right into Eddie's palm. This was why you only told your parents and like two people about your sudden move. You had hoped they would keep a secret, but you should have known better. Which was why you never told them where in NYC you were.

'Don't tell him.' Was all you replied with.

This wasn't fair. You moved away for a reason. All you could do was hope that your parents and your two friends would stay quiet. Sobbing into your pillow, you curled into a ball and wept yourself to sleep.

---------

If any part of you was ready for a vacation, it was your eyes. They had bags all packed up and ready to go. You had been living in Nueva York for about one month now. It was still a hard adjustment for you. The trains scared you, your neighborhood scared you, your job scared you and your past haunted you.

"The usual?" Your supervisor questioned.

You raised your head tiredly, knowing that phrase by now. It was the handsome man from your first day. He only appeared every now and then to either pick something up or to do into the freezer. If not him, then one of his men.

"Number two, zero, nine, nine."

"Yes, sir."

That was a code you still couldn't memorize. Once your supervisor left, you slowly turned to place your wrapped meat into the display case. Your gaze focused on the handsome man before you, captivated by his intense stare. You could feel your heart race as it felt like he was glaring into your soul.

----------

Miguel had entered the supermarket, wanting to grab a quick bite to eat. He was in the area and wanted to escape his lackeys. They were about to have a meeting with another mafia gang, but Miguel had no intension of making peace.

Approaching the deli, Miguel inhaled deeply. It was busy and loud. He tilted his head, looking for the shy bunny, aka you. Once he spotted you, Miguel furrowed his brows. He approached the supervisor, demanding his usual. Once the Supervisor left, Miguel got a better look at you.

You faced him and froze. Those wide glossy eyes of yours had a wave of exhaustion. Your skin looked paler despite the redness of your cheeks. Miguel could see you tremble as you made eye contact with him. Your face turning even redder. It made him chuckle. Miguel was both amused and annoyed.

"You've gotten thinner, conejita (bunny). Are you not eating properly?" Miguel asked out of concern. Your lips parted ever so slightly,

"N-Not...um...N-Not really...B-But that's m-my fault." You whispered, shaking from his pressence.

Miguel's eyes widen as he finally heard your soft and sweet voice. It was like honey to his ears. You were so quiet that he almost didn't hear you either. Miguel watched as you played with your fingers, your sleeves rubber banded against your wrists. He furrowed his brows, wondering why they weren't rolled up any higher.

"What's your name?" Miguel asked. You flinched, glancing up at him again,

"(Y/N)." You answered.

"So sorry, sir! She's still learning the ropes here!" The Supervisor panicked as he rushed over with Miguel's order. Miguel nearly shot him a glare,

"I spoke to her first." He said and returned his gaze towards you, "It was a pleasure, (Y/N). Until next time."

----------

You felt your breathing return to normal as Miguel parted you with a goodbye. The way your name rolled off his tongue sounded so sweet. It almost made your heart flutter. Almost. Your fear of him was far greater than admiring him.

Returning to work, you couldn't get Miguel off your mind. You had known his name for a while, but now he finally knew yours. That and he even noticed that you lost weight. Not even your closest friends or family noticed back home. Your shoulders sunk at the thought. Were you losing too much weight now?

It was hard. You always got home tired and didn't feel like doing much of anything. Whenever you did manage to make food, it was something simple and unhealthy. This lifestyle wasn't working out for you. Perhaps you needed to schedule a doctor's appointment and get professional advice?

"M-Maybe...I'll do that...later." He mumbled to yourself.

-----------

Miguel made his way out of the supermarket, still thinking about you. He entered his vehicle, letting his driver take him back to his headquarters. You were so shy. Not like any of the other girls. Leaning back in his seat, Miguel glanced over to the woman whom he fucked earlier that day.

What did he have to do to hear your moans? You weren't going to give him anything fake. Miguel resisted a chuckle as he licked his lips at the thought. His cock buried deep into your shaking body. Your moans coming out almost pornographic as he ravished you. Oh, the thought couldn't be anymore sweeter.

"Parece que tengo un conejito que cazar. (Looks like I have a bunny to hunt.)"

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Next chapter

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline

[emaadsidiki]

Memories of da' Boo-ronx 🌲🐯🌿🕸️

[dr3amlab]

Sweet escape ⎯ jjk x reader

SUMMARY. The gala was boring, thankfully, Jungkook was there to save the night.

PAIRING. Jungkook, Y/N

GENRE. pure fluff, rich! jungkook, rich! reader.

WORD COUNT. too lazy

AUTHORS NOTE. hey y'all so I've never been to New York or a bodega so sorryyyyy if it's innacurate.

From the moment you arrived, the gala had felt stifling. The room brimmed with opulence: crystal chandeliers casting golden light, designer gowns glittering like jewels, and tuxedos tailored so sharply they could kill someone. The air was heavy with laughs too perfectly timed and fake smiles plastered constantly on faces, without a break.

This wasn’t simply a gala; it was a marketplace for power. Deals disguised as small talk, people showing off their wealth and champagne glasses clinking with agreements.

Even the champagne in your hand—a rare vintage you’d read about in Forbes—tasted sour on your tongue. You took another sip anyway, more out of habit than enjoyment, your gaze wandering across the room in search of something—anything—to make this night tolerable.

And then you saw him.

Jungkook.

He was leaning against one of the long, polished banquet tables, his posture casual. His tuxedo fit like it had been sculpted directly onto him. His dark eyes caught yours from across the room, his lips immediately curving into a grin at your sight that sent a jolt through your chest.

He raised an eyebrow at you, tilting his head slightly, a silent question.

“What?” you mouthed, trying to stifle a smile.

He didn’t answer, not immediately. Instead, he took a sip from his champagne, set the glass down, and crossed the room toward you with the kind of ease only someone born into this world of wealth could manage. When he reached your side, he leaned down, his voice low and intimate in your ear.

“We’re leaving,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked, startled. “Leaving? What do you mean? We just got here.”

His grin widened, and for a moment, you were sure he was enjoying this far too much. “I mean, we’re ditching this entire circus. Right now. You in or not?”

You hesitated, the weight of expectation pressing on you like a stone. You glanced back at the room—at the glittering chandeliers, the clinking glasses, the meaningless conversations.

Then his hand brushed yours. Warm, steady, and just enough to convince you.

“Fine,” you said, setting your glass down on a passing tray. “But you’re explaining this if anyone asks," you touched his chest with your index fingers, "this is none of my business if we get caught."

“No one will notice,” he said, smirking. “Trust me. These people are too busy pretending they’re not bored out of their minds.”

Without another word, he took your hand and led you through the maze of elites. You moved quickly but without haste, the confidence of your exits as polished as your entrances. People glanced your way, but no one dared to question you; power has a way of silencing curiosity.

The back door clicked shut behind you, and the cool night air hit your skin like a breath of freedom. You stood in the private valet area, lit by soft amber lights that reflected off the sleek lines of luxury cars waiting in neat rows.

Jungkook pulled a key from his pocket, clicking it once. The low purr of an engine answered, and a black Aston Martin rolled forward, sleek and unapologetically expensive.

“You had them bring the car around?” you asked, incredulous.

“What do you think I was doing while you were over there pretending to enjoy your champagne?” he teased, opening the passenger door for you with a dramatic flourish. "Aren't you a villain? You planned this meticulously, didn't you ?" you teased.

You slipped into the seat, the soft leather cradling you like a second skin. He slid into the driver’s seat a moment later, the car’s controls lighting up under his hands as he adjusted the mirrors, tossed his jacket in the backseat and peeled out of the lot with effortless precision.

“Where are we even going?” you asked, kicking off your heels and tucking your feet beneath you. . The gown might have cost more than most people made in a month, but at this moment, you didn’t care if it wrinkled.

“You’ll see,” he said, the city lights reflecting in his eyes as he glanced over at you. “Trust me.”

“Trust you?” you repeated, laughing softly. “You just dragged me out of a $10,000-a-plate gala.”

“And yet,” he countered, his grin mischievous, “you didn’t even try to argue.”

The city blurred past as he navigated the streets with a confidence that felt second nature. Eventually, he pulled into a rooftop parking garage, the kind with a perfect, unobstructed view of the skyline. He killed the engine and stepped out, coming around to open your door.

“This is your big escape plan?” you teased as you stepped out into the crisp air.

“It’s better than pretending to like people I don’t,” he replied, gesturing toward the edge of the rooftop. “Come on.”

The view stole your breath. The city stretched endlessly, a sea of lights glimmering like stars. The faint chill of autumn lingered in the air, sharp and refreshing.

Jungkook leaned against the railing, looking more relaxed than you’d seen him all night. “Worth it?” he asked, his tone softer now.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Worth it.”

He turned to you, his grin taking on that familiar mischievous edge. “So, how does it feel to ditch the gala for a view like this?”

“Liberating,” you admitted, glancing back at the skyline. “Though I’m sure the gossip blogs will have a field day tomorrow.”

“Let them talk,” he said, reaching for your hand. His grip was warm, grounding. “They’d find something to say even if we stayed. Fuck them.”

For the first time that evening, you laughed—a genuine laugh that echoed against the quiet night.

And as the city buzzed below, Jungkook smiled, his gaze lingering on you longer than it did the skyline.

But eventually, reality began to creep back in. You glanced at Jungkook, leaning against the railing with his hair tousled by the wind, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Alright,” you said, breaking the silence. “We’ve officially escaped. What now, genius?”

He tilted his head, considering you with an amused glint in his eyes. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admitted. The champagne had done nothing to fill you up, and you’d barely touched the microscopic hors d’oeuvres at the gala.

Jungkook straightened up, his grin turning mischievous again. “Perfect. I know a place.”

“Please tell me this place doesn’t involve a sommelier explaining the origin of the salt,” you said, giving him a pointed look.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the p. “I promise, no reservations required.”

The Aston Martin wound its way down the parking garage ramp. Neon lights and flashing billboards passed by in a blur, the car effortlessly weaving through the sparse late-night traffic.

When he finally slowed to a stop, you glanced out the window and blinked. “A… bodega?”

Sure enough, the glowing yellow awning of a corner bodega greeted you, its hand-painted letters advertising everything from sandwiches to lottery tickets. The fluorescent lights inside flickered slightly, casting a faint greenish hue over the tiny store.

“You’re kidding,” you said, turning to him in disbelief.

He was already grinning as he opened his door. “Come on.”

The bells above the door jingled as you stepped inside, and the sharp scent of deli meats and cleaning solution hit you immediately. The bodega was cramped, its aisles barely wide enough to fit two people side by side. Shelves overflowed with snacks and canned goods, all illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights that gave everything a faintly greenish hue.

And then there was the clerk behind the counter, scrolling on his phone without a care in the world—until he glanced up.

You and Jungkook were so out of place that his reaction was almost comical. Jungkook stood in his tailored tuxedo, the tie long gone and his collar undone. Meanwhile, you clutched your designer heels in one hand, your gown still sparkling like it belonged under a chandelier.

The clerk blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to resignation, as if deciding it wasn’t worth questioning how the two of you had ended up here.

Still holding your hand, Jungkook grabbed a basket from the entrance, swinging it casually as his grin lit up the store. “Alright,” he said, turning to you with a mock-serious tone. “What’s the plan? Sweet, salty, or chaotic?”

“Chaotic,” you replied immediately, scanning a nearby shelf stacked with chips. “If we’re committing to this escape-from-reality thing, we’re doing it right.”

He nodded solemnly. “I respect that.”

The two of you wandered down an aisle together, gravitating toward the snacks like moths to a flame. Jungkook grabbed a bag of spicy chips and tossed it into the basket without hesitation. “Essential,” he declared.

You held up a package of neon-green sour gummies. “How about these?”

He squinted at the package, pretending to deliberate. “Hmm… passable. But only if we balance it with chocolate.”

Rolling your eyes, you plucked a bar of dark chocolate from the shelf and added it to the growing pile. “There. Balance achieved.”

“Perfect.” He picked up a tiny jar of peanut butter, holding it aloft like a trophy. “This too. Trust me.”

“Peanut butter? Really?”

“Yes, peanut butter,” he said, his tone firm as he placed it in the basket. “You’ll thank me later.”

By the time you reached the drinks, the basket was overflowing with a kaleidoscope of snacks—chips, candies, crackers, and even an impulsive pick of pickles. Jungkook studied the rows of soda cans with the intensity of someone analyzing stock market trends.

“Too sweet,” he muttered, putting one back. “Too boring. Ooh, this one has a bunny on it.” He tossed it into the basket with a proud grin.

You laughed, grabbing a can of sparkling water. “And for me, something a little more… refined.”

“Refined?” he echoed, raising a brow. “You’re barefoot in a gown, in a bodega at midnight. I think ‘refined’ left the building about an hour ago.”

You bumped your shoulder against his, grinning. “Let me live.”

As you rounded the corner toward the baked goods, something under the glass display caught your eye: a slightly misshapen cinnamon roll, its icing glistening under the harsh lights. Your heart skipped a beat.

“That,” you said, pointing with conviction, “is mine.”

Jungkook followed your gaze and smirked. “You’re sure? It’s… seen better days.”

“It’s perfect,” you insisted, tapping the glass to signal the clerk.

The man behind the counter shuffled over, raising a single eyebrow at your ensemble but saying nothing as he carefully placed the cinnamon roll in a paper bag.

“Anything else?” he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Jungkook leaned on the counter, his grin playful. “What’s the secret menu? You know, for the cool kids.”

The clerk snorted. “Coffee’s fresh. That’s about as fancy as we get.”

“We’ll take two,” Jungkook said smoothly, ignoring your protests as he handed over a few crisp bills. He grabbed the steaming cups a moment later, holding one out to you with a grin.

You found a small table in the corner of the bodega, the chairs mismatched and the surface slightly sticky, your knees were touching his and the basket of snacks spilled across the table.

“This,” you said, breaking the silence as you tore off another piece of your cinnamon roll, “is the best thing I’ve eaten all night.”

Jungkook smirked, leaning back in his chair and sipping his coffee. “Better than the miniature lobster tarts and gold-dusted macarons?”

“Way better,” you said with conviction. “Although I guess I didn’t eat much of those, did I?”

“Because you were too busy being miserable,” he teased lightly.

“Not anymore.” You met his gaze, your smile softening. “Thanks to you.”

Jungkook reached across the table suddenly, brushing a crumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. The gesture was casual, yet it sent a wave of warmth through you that was anything but.

He set down his cup, his expression shifting just slightly, the teasing fading into something quieter. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

The words hit you harder than they should have. You felt your breath catch, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing it always seemed to do when he let his guard down.

“What?” he asked, his grin reappearing as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the table. “You look like you’re about to cry. Did the cinnamon roll disappoint you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, it’s perfect. I’m just… I don’t know. Happy, I guess. Like, really happy.”

He didn’t reply right away, just tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were some sort of puzzle he was determined to solve.

The bells above the door jingled faintly every time someone entered, though the bodega was nearly empty at this hour. It made you feel as If your entire world had shrunk to this tiny corner store and it was kind of the case : As long as he was there, you always felt at peace.

Then Jungkook grinned, his expression turning mischievous again. “You realize this makes us official partners in crime, right? There’s no turning back now.”

“Obviously,” you replied, rolling your eyes, though your smile lingered. There was something absurdly perfect about the scene—the flickering lightbulb, the random bodega cat and the ridiculousness of sitting in a bodega dressed to the nines.

“You know,” he said finally, his voice lower now, more serious, “I really mean it Y/N. You're my partner in crime, my person.”

“For life?” you asked, your tone light but your chest tightening at the weight of his gaze.

“For life,” he confirmed, leaning closer.

Your breath hitched as the air between you seemed to shift, and everything faded into the background.

It was just him.

Just you.

And then he leans to kiss you.

Soft, at first, like he wasn’t entirely sure if you’d let him. His lips brushed yours gently, testing, waiting—and when you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. The taste of coffee and cinnamon mingled between you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, both of you catching your breath. His grin appeared yet again, though his voice was soft when he spoke.

“Well,” he said, his thumb brushing your cheek, “guess there’s no going back now.”

“Was there ever?” you murmured, smiling against his lips as you leaned in for another kiss, this one bolder, like you were finally letting yourself want this as much as you had all along.

By the time you pulled away again, you were both laughing.

You grabbed the warm paper cup of coffee in your hands and it felt grounding, “partners in crime,” you said, lifting your coffee cup in a toast.

He clinked his cup against yours with a grin so warm it made your chest ache. “For life.”

“I hope you know,” Jungkook said, breaking the comfortable silence, “this means you’re stuck with me.”

You raised your brow. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because no one else would ever agree to ditch a gala and raid a bodega with me. It’s a very specific type of partnership.”

You laughed, tossing a gummy worm at him. He caught it mid-air, popping it into his mouth with a triumphant grin.

“And you think I’m the lucky one?” you teased.

“Obviously,” he replied, his voice light but his gaze warm.

When the two of you finally left the bodega, stepping hand in hand into the cool embrace of the city night, it felt like the world was brand new. The gala, the gowns, the chandeliers—they felt a lifetime away.

Because this moment, this freedom, this sweet escape was yours.

[indieyuugure]

The 2012 Hamato Clan in their 20s

I got this idea from someone on discord. I thought it was so cool I had to give it a try!

Now that his brothers are less likely to accidentally kill themselves and Earth is at peace, Leo’s enjoying not being the parent for once, though he often still slips into his role as head of the family and mediator of chaos. He’s kinda given up on love and as accepted is role as “Cool, but also very dorky uncle.” I imagine he’s a lot like Iroh.

Raph has gone full Dad. Mona help’s him raise Chompy and I’d imagine that they adopted more weird alien/mutant kids as time goes on. Him and Leo still spar all the time to stay fit and go on crime busting adventures together with Casey. Raph travels back and forth between Earth and Salamandria every year so Mona can visit her family, and so Mona can show him her home.

Donnie has leaned into his “mad scientist” persona and has used the internet to release he’s discoveries about mutagen, the Kraang, the Triceratons, and everything else. He teaches science online for extra cash and builds his wildest dreams into existence. He too has kind of given up on love, being burned out by his self inflicted drama with April. Though little does he know one of his female students has a crush on him (even though she’s never seen his face) and is attempting to track him down.

Mikey hasn’t grown up, and never will. He still skateboards in the lair, and plays Mazes and Mutants with Ice Cream Kitty. Donnie introduced him to online gaming and he loves it. He’s got a team of other gamer friends (including Mondo Gecko) who he talks/plays with almost every night. He’s still to this day trying to convince everyone that Pizza Milkshake isn’t that bad even though Murakami-San told him that “some things are just not meant to be.”

April has gone to college to be a bioengineer as a pursuit of her passions in science. Casey plays for the professional hockey team that plays at April’s college. He was offered more money on a different team, but he would’ve had to move out of New York, so he stayed and after a few months, proposed to April. She said yes.

Karai is still the leader of the Foot Clan alongside her best friend Shinnigami. She hangs out with the Hamato clan all the time, usually coming over for dinner. Every six months, however she has to go back to Tokyo to manage the Foot Clan in Japan. Everyone is always happy when she finally comes back and they throw a party.

Splinter is smiling upon them.

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part seven)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, pedro (srry he's a big part of this chapter)

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: hi everyone! I literally just posted saying idk when I would update again but I decided to look through what I had written for this part and give it to y'all. she's a short one but it's cute. somewhat proof read lol. enjoy <3

part seven: closing chapters

You’ve been back in Los Angeles for less than a day and you already missed the simplicity of being with Hugh. Los Angeles was reality and it was an ugly one. All of the responsibilities came tumbling down on you and you felt like you were stuck in an inescapable maze. As much as you wanted to stay hidden, tucked under Hugh’s protective arm forever, you had to be an adult about this. You needed to stop ignoring Ashley and talk things out with her. You also needed to talk to Pedro and close that chapter that had been left wide open. Your personal life couldn’t have picked a worse time to get interesting. Tour started in two weeks, leaving very little time to tie all loose ends before traveling the world.

When you landed this morning, you ate a quick breakfast from a small cafe and went straight to rehearsals. They ran longer today to make up for the few days you were gone but you didn’t mind. Being on stage and performing the music you worked so hard on always upped your mood, even if you were unbelievably tired at the end of the day. At the moment, you were laying in bed, trying your best to stay awake while you waited for Hugh to call. He texted you a few hours earlier saying he spent the day with his kids and talked to them about the relationship you two had built over the questionable short period of time. He didn’t go into any further detail but promised to call as soon as he got home and settled. It was a little past 10pm, making it 1am in New York. Just as you were beginning to lose hope in Hugh’s late night call, your phone lit up with Hugh’s contact. 

“Hi Hugh.” You say sweetly into the speaker, sleepiness evident in your voice. “Hi, baby. Were you sleeping?” The deep accent you adored so much rumbled through the phone. “No, I was just laying down. How are you? How was your day?” As you speak, you move to sit up, your back resting against the headboard. “My day was good. It was nice to spend some time with the kids and catch up. We did a puzzle and talked, it was a nice day. How was your day, baby?” 

“It was good, busy. Basically hopped off the plan straight into rehearsals.” You let out an airy laugh. “I’m sorry sweet girl, I should let you get some sleep.” His voice trails off at the end and you know he genuinely feels bad for calling so late. “No, no…it’s fine. I want to talk to you. I don’t start as early tomorrow so I have some time to sleep in.” You assure him. “Are you sure baby? We can always talk tomorrow.” “I’m sure.” You let out a small yawn and Hugh chuckles.  “Hm, if you say so.” 

“Whatever..” You say playfully. The line goes quiet for a moment, neither of you speaking. “So uh…you told your kids about us?” 

You wanted to ease into asking but you were dying to know. Thay had been the number one reason you’d been so hesitant to take on a relationship with Hugh and you know their opinion means something to him too. If they didn’t approve or had any distaste towards your pairing, you weren’t sure if you could be with Hugh without having a heavy layer of guilt strapped to your heart. 

“Oh yea, I told them.” 

His response makes your heart skip a beat. Hugh was never one to beat around the bush but he was dragging this out and it scared you. 

“And what did they say?” 

Hugh takes a sharp breath in and your heart falls into your stomach. They don’t approve, you can sense the words about to tumble out of his mouth. 

“They’re fine with it.” 

His short answers are beginning to irritate you a little bit. You needed to know every detail of their conversation, you wouldn’t be able to sleep without it. 

“Hugh, can you please just tell me everything? Your lack of words is driving me insane.” You draw out the end of the last word, showing him just how frustrated you are. 

“I’m sorry baby, there's not much to tell. My daughter is a fan and begged me to introduce you two and um…well my son…he uh..this is so fucking awkward…” He huffs. “What did he say? I’m sure it can’t be that bad if they’re fine with everything right? Just spit it out, I can take it.” He sighs. “My son has a crush on you.” 

“Oh!” You can feel your body heat up underneath your duvet. “That uh…that is kinda awkward. What did he say about us being together then?” 

“He said something about how he doesn't understand how I was able to ‘bag a baddie’ like you, whatever that means.” You laugh at that. “He’s not mad, just jealous I guess. I’m really gonna have to keep an eye out for him when you meet them. I trust him, he’s my son, but I’m not gonna stand for his eyes wandering on my girl.”

You laugh again, partially because of his words and partially because of how wild this entire conversation is. 

“Well I’d love to meet your daughter and she’s free to come to any show she wants, I'll get her in. Same goes for your son as well, if that’s okay with you. I don’t want you to get too jealous and cause a fight between you two.” You giggle through the last few words. 

“Yea yea, we’ll see.” 

The line goes quiet again, a comfortable silence. 

“Hugh, I have a question.” “Shoot baby.” You can hear the sleepiness starting to appear in his voice. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with me going to talk to Pedro soon?” You hear rustling on his end before he speaks again. “Why do you want to do that?” There’s a slight hint of anger in his tone but you know it’s not towards you but towards how Pedro treated you. “I really need to talk things out with him. As much as I'm over him, there’s still a little part of me that needs closure, that needs to ask questions. I want this part of my life to be done but I need to have it properly sealed off.” “Could you wait until I’m back in town? I trust you but I don’t trust him one bit.” You smile at his protectiveness. “I really want to fix everything before the tour starts. I need to talk to Ashley too and the sooner I can get over this, the sooner I can put all my focus on the tour and you. So unless you’re planning on being back in town in a week, I need to do this alone. Is that okay?” He sighs and takes a moment. “Of course that’s fine baby. Just keep me updated on everything that happens.” “I will.” The two of you talk for 20 more minutes before you both call it a night, ending the call with “I love you”. 

The next morning, you immediately texted Hugh before rolling out of bed and starting your day. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, and made your way to the kitchen. You opted for a lazy breakfast, too tired to do anything else. You popped a bagel into the toaster and fried an egg, laying a slice of cheese on top to melt. You made your little bagel breakfast sandwich and washed a few berries to go with it. 

While you ate, you scrolled through your phone. Hugh hasn't texted you back yet but it didn't surprise you. He was up late and with his age, he needed his sleep. You smiled to yourself as you thought about how peaceful he looks while he’s deep in sleep. While scrolling through instagram, you get an ad for Gladiator II. Your ex’s stupid hot face was plastered on your phone. You sighed and pulled up his contact. You were grateful you deleted the text thread you once had, you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing all of the previous sweet words he used to send you. 

You: hey p, it’s y/n. I was wondering if we could meet up soon and talk? no pressure :) 

Once you hit send, you locked your phone and slid it across your kitchen table. Your phone buzzed a few seconds later and your heart started beating faster…there’s no way he could have already responded. You reached for your phone, having to lift out of your chair slightly. When your phone unlocks, your heart slows down, it’s just Hugh. 

You texted back and forth with Hugh all morning until you pulled up to the Kia Forum. Tour was officially a week away from starting which meant you got to rehearse in the venue that would be starting the tour off. You’d been in the Forum a few times for various concerts but being here for your own performance was a different animal. Knowing that this place was sold out for you was wild. You caught up with all of your dancers, them sharing the same excitement. The energy in the building was electric. The crew was excited to get their creations in full and everyone was just happy to finally be starting. 

With being in a new space, the start of rehearsal was a bit slow. Lights, sounds, and various other things had to be adjusted now that everything was in full. You didn’t mind though. It gives you a chance to slow down and appreciate how far you’ve come. It was lunchtime and you decided to hide away in your dressing room to eat. A few people offered you to come with them but you really needed a moment to yourself. You were overwhelmed but in a good way. You grabbed some food from the catering someone had ordered, you made a note to yourself to find out who it was and thank them. 

Once you got to your dressing room, you pulled your phone out of your purse and scrolled through your notification log. Hugh’s messages were the first thing you saw. You were responding to everything he had sent when another message popped up at the top of your phone. 

pedro: hey y/n. I’m free today if you wanna swing by sometime? 

You pulled up to the familiar gates and typed in the code that was still etched in your brain. Once you parked your car in the semi circle driveway, you texted Pedro that you were here before taking a deep breath and stepping out of your car. It always looked out of place next to the large home, even more now that you didn’t belong here the way you once had. One of the brown French style doors open just as you're walking up the three concrete steps that lead to the entrance. You look up from your shoes. Locking eyes with Pedro, you feel your heart tense up. The pain of losing the man you had felt so deeply for re-entered your body involuntarily. He was wearing his typical casual attire: a pair of black cotton shorts, his beloved yellow lakers tee, and a pair of long black socks. The slight gray in his hair had begun to spread, the sides of his beard almost losing all color. He looked as handsome as ever. He held the door open with one arm, leaning slightly. A small smile rested on his face and his brown puppy dog eyes gave you the same feeling they had when you had first met him. 

“Hi y/n.” His voice sounded almost hesitant. “Hi P…Thanks for having me.” He backs up to let you inside. You slip your shoes off, like you had many times before. “No problem. I’m kinda surprised you wanted to talk to me, thought you would’ve been done with me after…well you know.” You don’t answer, instead you walk towards his living room and plop yourself down in the spot you had claimed many months ago, Pedro taking his own claimed spot not too far from yours. “It’s weird seeing you there again…missed seeing you here.” You sigh. “Pedro…don’t say that.” “Why not?” “You don’t get to miss me when you’re the one that left me. You hurt me P. Not the other way around.” He scoffs. “Sure didn’t seem too hurt to me. You moved on just fine.” “Can you stop being an asshole for two fucking seconds?” 

You wanted to come into this with patience and maturity but Pedro was making that impossible. He was being completely insufferable and had been since the moment he broke up with you, like it was somehow your fault. You missed the kind Pedro, the one you had fallen for. 

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? It took a month before you fell into someone else's arms, no let me clarify, my friend’s arms.” You could tell he was trying to get under your skin and you didn’t know where he gained this hatred for you. His voice was sour, a scowl present on his face. 

“God Pedro…” You sigh in anger. “Yes I invited him to the album party but he was there for me when you sat there and yelled- no embarrassed me at my own event. You don’t get to play victim in this situation. We weren’t together and hadn’t been together for weeks by the time I met him.” You could tell you were beginning to lose control over your emotions. The anger and pain both battled reaching for your throat begging to take control over your next words. 

His eyes go soft as he starts to speak again. “Y/n…I’m sorry about that, I was drunk and I-” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You know what? Fuck you Pedro. Truly. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You broke up with me because the pressure was too hard on you. You come to my event and try to grab me, then you yell at me because Hugh came to check on me. Now you’re mad that I found someone that actually gives two shits about me, that isn’t afraid to deal with whatever comes with dating a younger girl? I’m over it.” You laugh again. “And now you want to apologize for that night when you’ve been nothing but rude since I sat on this couch? I came here for closure, nothing more. I liked you Pedro. I really really like you and you crushed my heart that night and every time I’ve seen you after. I don’t understand what I did to deserve this hatred that you’ve been throwing at me but it’s not fair.” 

Your anger had won the battle but your sadness would win the war. Your voice broke on your last words, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“It’s not fucking fair P…” 

You tuck your face into your sweatshirt, allowing yourself to cry in peace. Pedro doesn’t speak and the silence lasts for what feels like forever. You could feel a slight movement on the couch, then two warm arms wrap around your shoulder, a chin resting atop your head. The two of you stay like that for a while. You let your tears flood your cheeks until there aren’t any left. 

“I’m so sorry babygirl. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.” 

You slowly pull your face out of the sweater. One of Pedro’s arms drops to rest on his leg, the other lay across your shoulders still. His water line was filled with his own tears, eyes red. 

“Then why did you?” He takes a moment to think and pulls you into his chest. Your head resting right above his heart, the beat a little faster than the one you had memorized. 

“Shit y/n…I know no matter how I say this, it’s gonna sound fucked up.” He squeezes his arms gently. “I was so scared, baby. When everyone started to form their opinions on us and kept pinning me to be some weirdo, I freaked out. I’m at the height of my career and I couldn’t imagine losing that…and you were right, I'm selfish. When I let you go, I immediately regretted it. I showed up to your party wanting to apologize. I had a few drinks, some liquid courage if you will, but damn baby, those fruity little drinks were a lot stronger than I thought they’d be.” You chuckle at the comment. “I was waisted by the time I saw you and when…Hu-...when he came to defend you, I lost my shit. I was so pissed off. Even in the state I was in, the look in his eyes was loud. He looked at you with so much adoration and I knew I’d already lost you.” 

He pauses. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for myself, I just..I just want you to- no, I need you to know what happened. I’m sorry for being an ass today too. I guess I’m not over you and it hurts that you’re over me.” 

You look up at him. 

“I’m not trying to be mean when I say this P but it’s your fault. I could’ve loved you….I was falling in love with you. My time with you was special, so different than anything I’d ever felt before. I think we would’ve been good together. If you would have talked to me, maybe things would be different. You should have talked to me.” 

“We could’ve been the greatest?” He gives a lazy smile down to you and you look down in shame, wincing slightly. “You watched it?” You ask quietly. “Yea I did.” He pauses. “You sounded beautiful up there, you’re so talented y/n…even if it was so clearly targeted towards me.” The arm that's wrapped around your shoulder moves, his hand resting on your head now, moving in slow circles. 

“Would you ever give us another chance?” He asks, looking down at you. The hope in his eyes pains you. 

“I love him P…” You see the small glimmer of happiness drain from his face. You were feeling just as hurt, knowing that if Hugh hadn’t entered your life when he did or if you had talked to Pedro sooner, you’d give him another chance without a second thought. 

“Does he treat you good?” You almost scoff at the question, given who’s asking, but you don’t have the heart to be mean to him anymore. “Yea he does…” You smile at the thought of just how well Hugh does treat you. “Well, then I’m happy for you.” 

“Are you really or are you just trying to be nice?” You joke and he shrugs. “The latter but truthfully if you were going to be with anyone other than myself, I’m glad it’s him. He’s good.” He smiles down at you and it almost reaches his eyes. “Speaking of Hugh…you kinda owe him an apology, mister.” You poke at the side of his chest that you’re not leaning on. “For what? Stealing my girl?” His words make your tummy stir. “I wasn’t your girl anymore. You called him old and yelled at him. He’s your friend, so apologize.” 

“He is old.” You punch his arm and give him a look. “Ow..fuck. Fine, I’ll apologize but I’m not sure how buddy buddy I can be with him anymore.” “I don’t really care about that, as long as you’re nice to him.” 

He doesn’t respond. You spend a few minutes feeling the warmth of his embrace, it was something you were going to miss. As much as you loved Hugh, Pedro had been someone special to you and it hurt to let him go, even with what he put you through. 

“How much longer do my pictures have on your instagram before I’m replaced by Hugh?” He jokes and your eyes go wide. “Oh fuck me…” You had completely forgotten about the pictures that littered your page. “I will.” He smirks. “Shut the fuck up. I’m deleting them in front of your face just for saying that.” You whip out your phone. There are a few texts from Hugh on the homescreen asking how it’s going. “I’m surprised your guard dog let you come alone.” “Oh believe me, he didn’t want me to but he’s in New York and couldn’t stop me.” You open instagram. “And for that comment, I'm making you press delete on these. You can feel the finalization of us being over. Consider it punishment for being such a dick.”  He laughed and pressed delete on the first one. 

In the third picture, you started to regret this ‘punishment’. “We were a cute couple. You remember that one? That’s when you came over and we fucked like rabbits all week-” “Okay your done. Give me my phone.” You shove him away after and he lets out a deep belly laugh. The sound made you pause for a moment. This was the Pedro you had enjoyed being around. It was always so easy to joke around with him and be yourself. You would miss him. 

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[grizzlyofthesea]

Okay, since tumblr ate my first iteration of this post, let's try again.

I'm thinking of hosting a poll tournament to see which Monster High movie doll line is the best. I had the idea last night.

There are 14 Monster High TV specials/movies with their own "specialty" doll lines across G1 and G2:

New Ghoul @ School - Dawn of the Dance

Why Do Ghouls Fall in Love? - Sweet 1600

Escape from Skull Shores - Skull Shores

Ghouls Rule

Friday Night Frights - Skultimate Roller Maze

Scaris: City of Frights

13 Wishes

Frights, Camera, Action!

Freaky Fusion

Haunted

Boo York, Boo York

Great Scarrier Reef

Welcome to Monster High - Dance the Fright Away

Electrified

I don't want to compare the movies. I want to see which doll line is the crowd favorite.

There are two basic rules.

Rounds that end with a difference of less than 0.5% between choices get re-run. If this happens with Round 2, only the applicable choices are entered into this tiebreaker.

Movies with multiple sub-lines still only get one entry. After all, it wouldn't be fair if Freaky Fusion got four slots while most of the others only had one.

Now for the tournament structure.

Round 1: A typical series of 1 v. 1 matches. The winners advance, while the losers are eliminated.

Round 2: A 7-choice free-for-all. The winner is granted immunity, and the rest compete in Round 3.

Round 3: Three 1 v. 1 polls randomly pairing the losers from Round 2. Winners move to semifinals, losers are eliminated permanently.

Round 4: Semifinals. Two random parings of the winners from Rounds 2 and 3.

Round 5: Finals. One last 1 v. 1 poll to determine it all.

So, with all that said...