#End Greyhound Racing

[robert-the-greyhound]

“You can’t force a Dog to Run”

That is a sentence used by practically every pro-greyhound racing supporter at some stage during any greyhound racing argument. And there’s a kernel of truth there, you can’t stop a dog from running, and Greyhound do indeed love to run and have a genetic instinct to chase. But what happens when the dog doesn’t want to run?

This is Greyhound “Songful Bird”. She is 23 months old, born and bred in Ireland, exported and racing in the UK. Whilst being loaded into Trap Two at Kinsley Greyhound Track, Songful Bird very clearly did not want to enter the box and struggled to get away from the steward/handler. She made a break from the box but was pinned to the ground by Four grown men and roughly manhandled back into the trap. Upon leaving the box, she veers dramatically across the track, almost clipping another dog and endangering the rest with her erratic running pattern. This is not a dog running for fun, but a dog, panicked and running in fear.

Songful Bird very clearly did not want to race at this occasion, and despite her attempt to flee, was forced into a situation where she was distressed, roughly handled and potentially suffered physically injury but the grown man falling ontop of her or the resulting blind panic run away from her aggressors. The race should have been stopped at the first sign of issue, or the very least, Songful Bird should have been pulled from the running. But the bookmakers were already set up and ready, and for them, the show must go on.

Very telling that none of the stewards present felt anything was wrong forcefully shoving the dog into the trap, and that neither a track vet or welfare officer stepped in at any point to remove the clearly distressed dog from the situation. If welfare was truly at the heart of Greyhound Racing, Songful Bird would not have been put through this abuse.

If you love Dogs, Dont Support Greyhound Racing.

TW: #AnimalAbuse, #DogAbuse, #PhysicalManhandling, #DogNeglect, #DistressedAnimal, #DistressedDog

#greyhounds #petsnotbets #rescuednotretired #greyhoundsoftumblr #greyhoundracing #ba greyhound racing #behind the track #end greyhound racing #racinggreyhounds #companionsnotcommodities #endgreyhoundabuse #irishgreyhound #uk greyhound #animal rights #animal welfare

[schisms]

okay so i’m gonna go off for a minute just so i’m not being a dick on somebody else’s post. tw for mentions of animal abuse under the cut.

rich strike winning the kentucky derby is absolutely mindblowing and if this horse wins the triple crown i will literally shit myself but. um. please give the “sport” of professional horse racing as little patronage as possible. there’s a reason that horses like rich strike and so many other race winning horses are completely aggressive assholes and it is not because of any kind of eq (that horses frankly don’t have, at least not to the extent described in the post i’m referencing), it is not because of some ‘drive to win’ that so many people who consume media surrounding this sport like to personify the horses with. it is quite literally because these horses are abused and worked to their limits on a pretty much daily basis. not to mention many of these horses are inbred to just a disgusting extent, which produced not only behavioral issues but a myriad of health issues that are destroying the thoroughbred breed. take justify, the 2018-2019 triple crown winner. i cannot speak to his personality but that horse is not sound whatsoever. it wasn’t a question of if his front legs would give out, but when. it is by sheer luck that it didn’t happen before his triple crown run and i’m glad he’s now retired but goddamn. and they’re BREEDING him! breeding him. they are muddying the gene pool further just because this horse was somehow able to pull off a triple crown win, not because he was really the right horse to do it- it was pure luck. horse racing is gross and i just cannot really condone or get very excited about things that go on within the “sport.” it’s not funny, it’s just sad.

#more mentions alluding to animal abuse in the tags so beware #when i was younger horse racing was a huge long term hyperfixation for me #i thought it was incredible i would literally cry every time i watched secretariat’s triple crown win #but you know! as i grew older i educated myself. it started with being dumb founded over the fact that a horse hadn’t won a triple crown #since the 80’s. i really got familiar with why that was and the reason why are all the reasons i listed above #it is a ‘sport’ that has such little oversight and so few people actually interested in the holistic well being of the animals #because there’s so much money wrapped up in it people DON’T CARE #so many paydays depend on the horses being treated the way they are and it is sickening! #of course there was american pharoah in 2016 and justify in 2018 (2019? i can’t remember) #but if anything it’s gotten worse since then. slimy bob baffert doping up his horses and #racing horses that shouldn’t be raced i’m glad that awful human being got suspended from the sport #but that doesn’t mean terrible things haven’t continued in his absence and at the end of the day he’ll eventually be allowed back #it’s terrible. it’s all terrible. i hope it goes out like greyhound racing someday i really really do #most sports that involve animals tend to be this way. i’m okay with things like pbr and SOME rodeo (definitely not all but some) #because the organizations overseeing them have very strict regulations about #how long and how often the animals are worked + how they are bred #and how the animals must always be treated at professional events #and if anyone is shown to fall outside of these regulations it will result in an immediate disqualification #things like PBR show that these kind of things can be done right and people can still make a ton of money off of it #but the people who participate in professional horse racing just refuse to innovate the sport #regardless of how much money the sport makes because. what #’it’s an american pasttime! it’s a part of our history!’ #shut the fuck up i’m gonna curbstomp you

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

✮⋆˙ another day of sun; leo valdez x reader blurb

content: leo valdez x reader blurb warning: angst but then fluff but then ig angst again??? this one a rollercoaster fo sho author's note: psssst @ivyy-covered-walls come cry over this one. also...I LOVE IT MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF SO SO GOOD (if yall dont agree, say nothing bc i will cut a bitch frfr) (jkjk i don't promote violence...except when i do)

ba-ba-da-ba, da-ba-da-ba ba-ba-da-ba, da-ba-da-ba

leo knew you were gonna make it big. you were just that kinda girl, one that drew people in and you were just so so full of love that you wanted to spread to others. leo was grateful every time you choose to spread that love over him...but he knew he was running on borrowed time. every time you guys went to the movies or saw a band preforming at a farmers market, he could feel the itch in you to join them. to make it far, to see your name in lights, and to have people waiting hours to catch just a glimpse of you. he knew you were gonna leave - most importantly, leave him behind.

i think about that day i left him at a greyhound station west of santa fé we were seventeen, but he was sweet and it was true still i did what i had to do 'cause i just knew

you never ever wanted to hurt leo, really, you didn't. if you could take him with you, stuffed inside your suitcase, you would in a heartbeat. he was the only boy you'd ever loved and you were certain you'd ever love again. but, when you received the offer to internship in los angeles under some big acting firm...it was kind of hard to say no. and it didn't help that leo was encouraging you to go, a heartbroken but motivating smile on his lips. you clung to him every remaining moment, wanting to cherish your now limited time. leo didn't mind, pressing his lips to any corner of skin he could reach.

summer sunday nights we'd sink into our seats right as they dimmed out all the lights a technicolor world made out of music and machine it called me to be on that screen and live inside each scene

and then the dreaded day came. leo walked you to the train station, carrying your suitcase and backpack like a gentleman. what a boy to leave behind, you thought, your heart clenching and mind urging you to stay, just stay. but he was already pulling you into a goodbye hug, clutching you so firmly to his chest that you worried you'd merge into one person. and then you pressed your lips to leo's, salty tears and muttered apologies being the only separators from time to time. then the train came rushing by, sweeping both of your hair into to crazy directions and slightly pulling the pair towards the train with it's sweeping breeze. leo whispered sweet nothings into your ear, promises to watch every movie and to love you until his heart stops beating. you pressed kisses to his clothed shoulder at every promise, every promise you'd break by stepping onto the train. you waited until the very last moment, the conductor glaring at you as he shouted the very last calls for los angeles. you squeezed leo's hand so hard, you thought you'd crush his bones to dust, shooting up and pressing a kiss so firm and love filled to his cheek. and then you were sweeping away into the train, looking over your shoulder and waving out the window of your seat every moment you could.

and when the train started to move, leo copied, racing to keep up with the train. running to keep you in view for even just a few more moments. you were laughing but leo couldn't hear it anymore through the glass - he worried he'd never hear it again. he ran until the end of the platform, nearly slamming into it as the train continued to rush past, continued to steal his girl away from him. and he stayed there, long after the train was nothing more than a spec in the distance. he would've stayed there forever, waiting for you to come back, but the ticket seller told him to get lost so he could close up for the night.

without a nickel to my name hopped a bus, here i came could be brave or just insane we'll have to see

and years later, leo'd drag piper and jason with him to the movie theaters. he'd been yapping about this movie for months, piper growing suspicious that he had alter motives. but he'd always just smile in a sort of nostalgic way and simple say he liked the actress. and she was beautiful and the kind of girl that drew people in, which was hard to find in people their age! following a deep dive, piper discovered they'd come the same hometown, which she figured to be his true reason. who wouldn't want to see someone like you succeed? but, as they took their seats and piper leaned over to ask for the popcorn, she couldn't help but notice the glistening of tears in his eyes as he stared up at the girl, finally on the big screen. just like she always dreamed. just like he always dreamed for her.

'cause maybe in that sleepy town he'll sit one day, the lights are down he'll see my face and think of how he used to know me

then, as the movie came to end and leo stood up and gave a stand ovation to an empty theater, his clapping came a halt as the credits began to roll. his heart thudded and he caught himself on the seats in front of them, as his knees buckled and gave out on him. there, bold and proudly it read;

to my dear heart, my first supporter and first and final love. i do it all for and because of you. come find me, for i am waiting for you, just like we promised all those years ago waiting for that train. take me home, leo valdez.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader

[hopefulromances]

Dude first of can I say I bloody love your writing second of all I just read that piece of reader and Jamie watching finding nemo and I had an idea. What if Jamie is watching when Harry met Sally for movie night with the team and it literally gives him the biggest mindblown lightbulb moment that he’s in love with the reader aka his best friend of over 10 years. The ending of it always makes me cry.

This is crazy did you read my other drabble where Jamie and reader watch when Harry Met Sally (I love that movie) But I LOVE THIS idea.

The boys filed into the rec room, the chairs already set up for the boys to be able to watch whatever movie Ted picked out for tonight. You were in there, finishing setting up the projector cause lord knows that if you didn't do it Ted would never be able to figure it out.

"And there!" You finished, throwing your hands up in success. "All you have to do is press play."

"Well, now, thank you (Y/N), you've been a big help," Ted grinned. "Alright now, folks! Let's file in, get your seat we're gonna get started soon!"

"(Y/N)!" Jamie called over to you. You looked over at him and smiled and Jamie's heart about stopped. Sure he was in love with you. You were brilliant. But it wasn't like he would ever say anything and ruin the friendship you had. "Over here."

"Sorry, Jamie, I got work to do, won't be able to stay tonight," you told him walking towards the door. "But I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

You walked out of the door. Some of the team pat him on the shoulder sympathetically as they walked by. Was it really that. obvious? How could you not see it?

Jamie elected to slump down next to Sam and Isaac instead, unable to keep the pout off his face.

"It is alright, Jamie," Sam comforted, nudging him. "She's just busy tonight."

"Yeah! Anyone with eyes can see she's into you," Isaac agreed.

"Thanks, lads, but I think it's hopeless," Jamie grumbled.

"Alright, greyhounds, now!" Ted clapped his hands getting the attention up at the front. "Tonight we're watching a movie about friendship, and love, and how friendship and love walk a very dangerous line. But all you need is that one push to spill your guts."

"Fucks sake," Jamie muttered, adjusting his seat.

"And without further ado, When Harry met Sally!" Ted scurried out from in front of the projector. Jamie rolled his eyes and settled in for another rom com that he didn't enjoy because all he could think about is (Y/N),

But what surprised him was how great the movie was. The writing, the flirting, it was all so comparable to his own life. By the end of it, he was leaning forward in his seat as Billy Crystal rushed down the streets of New York to find Meg Ryan.

"I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

Jamie felt him mind racing as he listened to that line. He thought about you and the butterflies that followed him around whenever you were near. The smile that lit up the room. The laugh that could save lives. He wanted to be with you and he wanted to be with you right now.

Just as the lights turned on, Jamie shot up out of his chair and raced out of the room. The rest of the boys cheered as he did.

Ted turned to Beard. "I reckon you owe me 10 pounds."

Meanwhile, Jamie was rushing to your room. When he arrived, he knocked fiercely on the door, not letting up until you opened it.

"Jamie? What on earth-"

"I love you," he blurted out. You eyes widened, trying to take in what he was saying. "I love you. Like I love the way you smile, I love the way you talk, I love the way you always seem to know what I want for lunch even though I don't know what I want for lunch."

"Jamie wha-"

"I love you," He repeated. "You know my hair dye brand, you know that I like the temperature in my house to be 18 degrees. Not 20, not 15, 18 degrees. I love you (Y/N)."

You were speechless. You couldn't form a thought into a word if you wanted to. You just looked back and forth between Jamie's eyes trying to decipher if this was a joke.

"(Y/N), I love you and when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you-"

"Want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible..." You finished the quote, smiling softly.

"I know this is sudden, and whatever, but I just... I need you to know."

"Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you kiss me now?"

"God, yes."

And he did. He kissed you. He kissed you quite a lot actually.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fanfiction #drabble night #drabble #fluff

[elfdragon12]

"This type of dog would cost so much money from a breeder, no way it could be a rescue!"

You would think, but no. That's not the case at all. Any type of dog is just as likely to be a rescue for any number of reasons.

Some people have major life changes that require them to give up their dog. Serious injury, loss of financial stability, or the dog just cannot adapt to life changes such as new children. My family knew an elderly woman who had given us her sweet little dachshund because her allergies were a struggle (she ended up feeling too lonely without the dachshund, so the pooch was returned to her and she chose to stick with her medication).

Some people think they want a certain breed of dog but actually can't handle it at all. Just look at huskies! They're an extremely popular and well-known breed, but the majority of people cannot handle their exercise needs. My own shar pei-husky rescue (a designer mix, a light google search found someone selling this type of puppy at $900) requires an at least one hour long walk but I have to prepare to spend 2 hours outside with her. Plus she has a very high prey drive and can be quite stubborn, especially when I try to walk her past the pet store where the manager gives her treats. I met a lady who took in a Malinois-pit bull mix (bred ON PURPOSE) because the people who originally wanted this puppy couldn't handle his energy and were ready to give him up after a few months.

Some people treat dogs like disposable objects and just get rid of it when they're bored or just don't feel like caring for it anymore. Yes, this is a living being that cost them a lot of money, but that doesn't mean they actually care.

Some dogs are retired sporting dogs that got dumped. This is especially common for greyhounds. Within the past few years, Florida put a ban of greyhound racing which ended up displacing a lot of racing dogs. Alternately, dogs originally bred for jobs like K9 police work but didn't make the cut because their personalities didn't fit.

Dogs can can end up in shelters for any sort of reason and being an "expensive" breed can't always save them from this fate.

#dogs

[ghxst-heart]

ꜱᴛʀᴀᴡʙᴇʀʀʏ ᴍɪʟᴋꜱʜᴀᴋᴇꜱ ─ ᴇʟᴠɪs ᴘʀᴇsʟᴇʏ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (Y/N) was a good girl.  She was always home before her curfew, she helped her father prepare for his gigs, and she stayed away from the good-for-nothin’ stagehand boys that were always trying to win her affection.  She was a good girl, her father’s obedient pride and joy, until Elvis Presley became his opening act. ᴛʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: Usual time-period sexism, mentions of race and segregation through slang. ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪɴғᴏ: Pronouns used are She/Her/Hers, HankSnowDaughter!Reader, kind of an Innocent!Reader, AustinButler!Elvis ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: Fem!Reader, Crushing!Elvis Presley X Reader ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.3k

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢ sʜᴏᴛ ᴍɪssɪssɪᴘᴘɪ ʙᴏʏ sᴇʀɪᴇs

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) didn’t want to go back to the carnival.  She didn’t think she could face her father after disappointing him.  A lecture would be waiting for her, full of scorn and hurtful words that would strike her right in the heart.  She already felt guilty for letting Betty make her over like a pinup girl, and how she reacted to Elvis’ performance only made her feel worse.  She felt ashamed that she had let herself lose control.  Anyone who knew she was Hank Snow’s daughter would be disappointed in her; she had brought shame and sin onto her father’s name.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) had convinced Betty to stay out with her just a little longer, waiting until the clock struck midnight to even think about returning to the carnival.  If she was in trouble with her father, she might as well pile on the fury and miss her nine o’clock curfew.  There was no use in getting back into her father’s good graces; she was too far gone.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty had found a small twenty-four-hour diner just down the road from the auditorium, and the two girls sat in a booth sipping on strawberry milkshakes.  (Y/N) had changed back into her own skirt, and her fingers nervously bunched the flowy fabric of it as she chewed on her lip.  Her eyes were locked onto the street outside, watching teens and adults alike wander up and down the street without a care in the world.  She could feel Betty’s eyes boring into the side of her face, and she knew that Betty had a lot to say to her.  (Y/N) would have liked to have a few choice words with her as well, but she didn’t know where to start.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The older woman sighed deeply, sounding almost amused by the situation.  (Y/N) frowned and glared at her, narrowing her eyes as she thought of what to say.  Betty only smirked back at her, taking a long sip from her milkshake before letting her shoulders slump against the plush booth seat behind her.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) grumbled, rolling her eyes at Betty’s nonchalance. "This is all your fault, y’know.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty chuckled, “No, it ain’t.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)’s eyes bugged, and she leaned forward on the table, her mouth drawn into a tight frown. "You’re the one that dragged me to the stupid Hayride in the first place, Betty!  I told ya my daddy wouldn’t like it, yet you did it anyway!”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“It ain’t my fault, sugar,” Betty passively said, her eyes trailing along the bar as if she were bored. "The decision was yours, (Y/N).  I just helped ya make the more fun decision.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I ain’t havin’ any fun now!  My daddy’s furious with me.  I’ll be on the next Greyhound home the moment he lays eyes on me.” (Y/N) sadly said, her head falling into her hands as she spoke.  This wasn’t how she wanted the night to go; this wasn’t how she wanted her summer to end.  All she had to do was listen to her father.  Why was that so hard to do?  Why did she have to let Betty convince her to get all dolled up and go to the damn Hayride?

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty remained silent, letting (Y/N) retreat further into her thoughts.  (Y/N) didn’t know how long they sat there, the sounds of the diner filling the silence that stretched between them.  (Y/N) found it quite soothing, the laughter of teens out past their curfew and the sizzling of burgers on the grill helping to calm her mind.  It reminded her of her sophomore year of high school.  She’d tell her father that she was leaving for a study group at the library, but she’d really be hopping into her best friend’s rag top, and they’d head to the drive-in before they ended the night at their favorite diner, sipping strawberry milkshakes just as she and Betty were doing now.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) wished that she had been better at hiding her disobedience of her father’s orders tonight.  It would have been much more manageable than knowing she’d be returning to the circus to have a screaming match about the shame she brought to him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Well, I’ll be.” Betty breathed and reached across the table to shake (Y/N)’s arm.  (Y/N) groaned and swatted her hand away, but Betty was persistent. "(Y/N/N), look who just walked in!”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I don’t care, Betty!” (Y/N) whined, sounding like her younger self when she didn’t get her way.  (Y/N) usually would have been mindful of the tone of her voice, but her energy was running low, and she didn’t have much left to curb her attitude anymore.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Would you stop bein’ a wet rag and listen to me?” Betty snapped, her eyes still trained on the diner’s entrance behind (Y/N)’s head. "Elvis Presley just walked in, darl’.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)’s head shot up from the table, her face pale and her eyes wide as she looked at Betty.  Oh, no, this couldn’t be happening.  Her body flushed with embarrassment, and she hid her face in her hands once more.  She couldn’t face him after how she reacted at the Hayride.  They’d locked eyes more than once at the Hayride; surely, he’d recognize her.  She started to panic.  She needed a way to get out of the diner without him seeing her.  But, unfortunately, Betty had other plans.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Elvis Presley!” Betty called out, sliding out of the booth and letting her hip rest on the side of the table.  (Y/N) looked at her with wide eyes, her spine straightening with fear.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What in Sam Hill are you doin’?!” (Y/N) whispered.  She could feel her nerves prickle under her skin as goosebumps appeared over her arms.  Betty glanced at (Y/N) with a sly smirk and winked, leaning down slightly to whisper in her ear.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“(Y/N/N), you’re already in enough trouble, may as well enjoy it before ya daddy sends ya home.” Betty teased, standing up straight as she waved Elvis over.  (Y/N) felt like crawling under the table and disappearing into the linoleum flooring; she’d never be able to recover from this.  Betty smiled sweetly at her and crossed her arms over her stomach, pushing her bust up and putting it on full display as Elvis sauntered over to their table.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) had let her curiosity get the best of her, and, despite her wanting to die on the spot from seeing the man she screamed at not two hours ago face-to-face, she let her head turn over her shoulder.  Again, there stood the man in the pink suit, this time without that damned jacket, his arm slung over a pretty brunette’s shoulders and flanked by his bandmates.  (Y/N) recognized the girl as the one from the alleyway earlier that night, the one that was trying to help Elvis settle his stomach with a Pepsi.  (Y/N)’s heart squeezed in her chest as she watched Elvis walk toward them, his steps just as calculated and thoughtful as when he walked onto the stage earlier that night.  The diner lighting highlighted his tanned skin, and (Y/N) finally got to see his face without the harsh shadows that the stage lights cast.  He seemed to become even more beautiful in the two hours she had last seen him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“My, that was quite the bash tonight, Mr. Presley.  I ain’t never seen anyone like you.” Betty complimented, smiling up at the tall man with hooded eyes.  (Y/N) carefully watched her.  Betty flirted with everyone, but she was really laying it on thick with how she looked at him.  (Y/N) would have been impressed with her boldness if she wasn’t so embarrassed.  She could never imagine flirting with a boy while he had his girl under his arm.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)’s eyes fluttered toward Elvis, and he let a shy smile grace his face as his head bowed.  (Y/N) felt like her heart was about to explode; he was so endearing.  A man with that kind of talent should have been overly confident, almost to the point that it seemed arrogant, but he was bashful and timid, unsure of how to go about responding to the compliment.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis nervously chuckled, his hand running along his jaw as his eyes met Betty’s. "Thank you, little darlin’.  ‘Preciate it.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) bit her lips as she listened to him speak, her cheeks heating up with a deep blush.  She would be lying if she said she didn’t love his voice; it was so smooth and deep that all she wanted to do was listen to him talk day in and day out.  Betty glanced toward (Y/N) from the corner of her eye, taking in her reaction to hearing his voice without the reverberation of the auditorium speakers.  She smirked and quietly chuckled, returning her eyes to Elvis and his group.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What would ya think of joinin’ two adorin’ fans and sharin’ a basket of fries?” Betty asked.  (Y/N) felt the color drain from her face as Betty offered to share their booth with them.  She couldn’t even meet Elvis’ eyes; how would she get through a basket of fries?

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis turned his head over his shoulder to confer with his bandmates, and they agreed with a few shrugs of their shoulders.  Then, finally, the man from earlier, the one that had the guitar in the alleyway, decided for them with a smug grin. "If you’re buyin’, doll.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty sighed, pretending to ponder her decision before she hummed, “I suppose I can buy ya beatniks some fries, the least I could do after that performance.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The group laughed, and they began to settle into the booth.  (Y/N) scooted to the booth’s corner, trying to make herself as small as possible as the guitar player settled beside her.  Betty squeezed onto the end of the booth, sliding her milkshake across the table as Elvis, the girl, and the bass player that (Y/N) vaguely remembered was named Bill filed into the seat in front of them.  (Y/N) sat straighter, tucking her legs as close to the seat as she could to keep them away from Elvis.  Her heart began to hammer in her chest as the group went around and introduced themselves to one another, starting to become acquainted for their brief night hanging out.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis let his arm hang over the back of the booth behind the girl’s head, “Well, uh, y’all know me, I guess.  This here’s my girl, Dixie,” he paused to let his fingers dance across her shoulder, earning a quiet giggle from the girl.  (Y/N) fought with herself to keep the pang of jealousy that struck her heart at the interaction at bay; she wanted nothing more than to be in Dixie’s position.  Elvis grinned as he pointed to the bass player and then the guitar player, “An’ that’s Bill and Scotty.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty leaned her elbow onto the table, her hand supporting her chin as she flirtatiously smiled at Scotty. "I’m Betty, and that pretty darlin’ right there is (Y/N).”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) froze as five pairs of eyes focused on her, and her heart seemed to stop in her chest.  She sucked in a sharp breath, her teeth pulling on her bottom lip and ruining the red lipstick that Betty had applied earlier.  She shyly waved, forcing a tiny smile onto her face, “Hiya.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Bill kindly smiled at her, “So, you gals from ’round here?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty grinned, thankfully taking the attention away from (Y/N), “Do we look like we’re from ’round here, Bill?” The group chuckled at Betty’s snarky comment, and she waved them off as she answered his question. "We’re with a travelin’ carnival.  (Y/N)’s daddy is Hank Snow.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Hank Snow?” Scotty sat up straight, turning his body to her as he asked, “Your brother went on before us, dinnit he?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) slowly nodded her head, taking a small sip of her milkshake.  She could feel Elvis’ eyes trained on the side of her face, but she kept her eyes on Scotty to keep herself grounded.  She was worried that if she looked at the Presley man, she’d snap her mouth shut and sink into oblivion, too mortified to recover from her reaction at the Hayride, “Yeah. Daddy’s been tryin’ to get his name out there.  This was his first big gig.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Dixie giggled from under Elvis’ arm, “He’s a funny little act.  He’s got a good voice.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Bill chuckled and shook his head, leaning forward on his elbows to look at (Y/N), “Sure, he’s got potential.  Could be good without your daddy leading his career, though.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)’s brows furrowed as Bill waved down a waitress, unsure what he meant by that.  She may not have liked her father’s music and thought it was boring and too conservative, but he was still her father.  A flash of courage washed over her as she sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing in Bill’s direction. "You sayin’ my daddy don’t know what he’s doin’?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Bill disregarded her comment as he ordered two baskets of fries and flirted with the young waitress, but the group around her watched her with wary eyes.  Betty had a slight grin toying on her features, and (Y/N) knew she was proud of her for sticking up for her family.  She may be fighting with her father at the moment, but she’d defend him any time of day.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Now, now, little lady, don’t get so defensive,” Bill said, holding his hands up as he relaxed against the booth. "I was just sayin’ he’s got a different demo than what I’m guessin’ your brother’s goin’ for.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N)’s frown deepened, and she fought the urge to say something else, but she knew it wouldn’t do her any good.  So, she bit her tongue, opting to scoff and roll her eyes as she took a sip of her milkshake.  The group didn’t quite know how to move on, they didn’t know each other well enough to slide onto another topic of conversation so quickly, but Elvis suddenly spoke up, smoothing the rough patch as if he’d been remedying their squabbles for years.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I’d love to bake a biscuit of that song he sang, y’know?” Elvis spoke up, his hand waving through the air as he spoke.  His lip curled as he spoke, and it would have seemed malicious if he had been saying anything else. "It could be real hip with Scotty’s guitar skills.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) faintly smiled, her eyes trained on her fingers as they traced the lip of her glass.  She felt something nudge her foot under the table, and her gaze snapped up to meet Elvis’ electrifying blue eyes.  He was grinning at her, but it wasn’t like how Betty grinned at her.  Betty often looked standoffish and mean when she grinned, but he looked inviting, friendly in a way that (Y/N) had never seen before.  (Y/N) felt her smile widen, and she sat up again, letting herself become more comfortable.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) hadn’t realized that the group had spent the entire night tucked into that diner until the sun started peeking through the window beside them, and the waitress began offering coffee instead of milkshake refills.  They talked and talked, and it was as if they had known each other their entire lives.  Betty had tucked into Scotty’s side, and (Y/N) had noticed that she was slowly rubbing her hand over his thigh as they talked in hushed whispers.  Bill had disappeared to sit at the bar counter, chatting up the young waitress refilling salt shakers behind the counter.  Dixie had fallen asleep early into the night, leaving (Y/N) and Elvis to talk amongst themselves.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎It surprised (Y/N) how easily they clicked.  After his performance that night, (Y/N) thought she’d be too horrified to even look him in the eye, but now she didn’t want to stop.  Like when he was on stage, Elvis drew her in.  He kept her attention with his shy smiles and expressive hands.  Even while he tried to stay still so Dixie could sleep soundly on his chest, his free hand moved this way and that, like he just couldn’t stop himself.  (Y/N) let a small smile grace her features as the thought that he always had a soulful beat drumming in his soul, unable to let his body rest for even a moment, ran through her mind.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The more they talked, the more she wanted to know about him.  He was so much more than the wiggly boy she watched on stage that night.  He was a poor boy from Tupelo, Mississippi, that grew up around the beautiful sounds of genuine jazz and blues music, listening to soul-changing gospels and imitating them as he grew.  He liked to hang out on Beale Street in Memphis, and most of his inspiration came from the music he’d hear trickling out of bars and restaurants along the street.  (Y/N) was in awe of him and how he spent his life; it was so different from hers.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎As if that weren’t enough, he seemed to be just as entranced by her as she was by him.  She didn’t think he had taken his eyes off her the whole night, and it was slowly driving her wild.  She had never had anyone pay such close attention to her; it was almost overwhelming.  But, a part of her relished in it.  She wondered if the hidden part of her that had made that brief appearance during his performance, the unapologetically wild part of her, urged her to be as bold as Betty was being.  Sometime throughout the night, she had extended her foot and let it softly nudge his, and then, as the night progressed, their feet became tangled, and their ankles hooked around each other.  It would have been innocent enough, it hadn’t moved past that, but Elvis’ girl was asleep on his chest as he played footsie with (Y/N).

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎The small action brought a faint blush to the apples of her cheeks, and it remained there until the night turned to day.  (Y/N) glanced out the window for the first time in a while, needing to take a quick breather from Elvis’ enchanting eyes, and her heart dropped when she saw that the sky was no longer sleek black and dotted with bright stars but a pretty mixture of yellows, pinks, and oranges.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Oh, no,” (Y/N) breathed, her jaw hanging slack as she turned back to Elvis.  His brows had furrowed together, confused by her sudden change in demeanor.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What’s wrong, doll?” Elvis asked, and (Y/N) finally realized that his voice had become raspy from all their talking.  A shiver ran down her spine as she pushed away the feelings stirring in her stomach.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) nervously chuckled, “My daddy’s gonna kill me.  My curfew was nine o’clock.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis let out a hearty laugh, “D’ya know how late it was when I got ‘ere?”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded, a sheepish smile gracing her features as her eyes fell to her lap.  Speaking with Elvis all night pulled something within her to the surface, and although she still blushed profusely as she said it, she didn’t hesitate. "I guess I don’ mind my daddy bein’ upset with me if I’ve been out with you all night.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎A sense of accomplishment filled (Y/N)’s heart when she saw Elvis’ tanned skin start to glow red, and he ducked his head to shield it from her view.  He’d been causing her to blush all night, and the fact that she could do the same to someone like him brought an elated feeling to her heart.  It was like she was back at the Hayride, reliving the feeling that Elvis’ music made her feel.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) happily sighed and glanced toward Betty, seeing she was in the same position as Dixie.  She was leaning against Scotty, her head on his shoulder as she softly snored, and Scotty was doing the same with his head atop hers.  (Y/N) softly smiled and reached across Scotty to shake Betty awake.  Betty groaned and swatted (Y/N)’s hand away, and she softly chuckled as she glanced back at Elvis.  He watched her attempt to wake her friend, his eyes alight with something (Y/N) had never seen a man look at her with.  She grew warmer under his gaze, but she redirected her attention to Betty.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Betty, we’ve gotta go,” (Y/N) said, her fingers gently pinching Betty’s thigh.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“I’m comfy, I ain’t leavin’,” Betty whined, snuggling further into Scotty’s chest.  The guitarist started to stir, but he didn’t fully wake.  (Y/N) hummed, her lips pursing as she tried to think of something to do.  She knew Betty wasn’t a heavy sleeper, but waking her up shouldn’t have been this hard.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“You got any ideas?” (Y/N) asked Elvis, watching him quietly chuckle at his friend and Betty.  He nodded and began to untangle his legs from (Y/N)’s.  A slight frown made its way to her face from the loss of contact, but it was quickly replaced by a shocked smile when Scotty suddenly shouted out in pain, his eyes flying open as he directed his anger toward Elvis.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What the hell, man!” Scotty shouted, finally stirring Betty awake as he sat up straight and turned toward his friend.  The guitarist tried to kick Elvis back, but the man in the pink suit was too quick and easily dodged the hit with a sly grin.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis and (Y/N) laughed, the reactions of their friends too hilarious to keep quiet for Dixie’s sake.  Finally, the young girl let out a noise of disapproval and heaved herself off Elvis’ chest, her eyes narrowed into a harsh glare as she awoke from her slumber.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“What is goin’ on, Elvis?” Dixie whined, rubbing her eyes and smearing her eyeliner around her eyes.  (Y/N) grinned, finding it humorous that she could be so crabby after a night of sleeping on Elvis’ chest.  (Y/N) would be over the moon if she had the opportunity; she didn’t think that even a rude awakening could ruin her mood if she got to be held by him while she slept.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“The cats gotta go, Scotty,” Elvis chuckled, running his hand along his jaw as he spoke.  (Y/N) bit her lip as she watched the movement, the unfamiliar churning of her stomach returning.  She wasn’t sure what he did to her, but she wasn’t complaining.  On the contrary, she loved the warm feeling it brought to her entire body.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Scotty rolled his eyes and gently patted Betty’s hip to tell her to get out of the booth.  (Y/N), Dixie, and Elvis soon followed suit, stretching their limbs above their heads to relieve the tension of sitting in the cramped booth for so long.  (Y/N)’s head lolled on her shoulders as she asked the waitress for the check, but Elvis soon stepped in and handed the young girl a five-dollar bill, telling her to keep the change for herself.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“Elvis, you don’t gotta pay for us.” (Y/N) protested, reaching out to grab the bill from the girl, but Elvis shooed her along before (Y/N) could even take one step forward.  (Y/N) frowned, her eyes meeting his. "We invited ya, we should pay.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis just shook his head, smirking down at her as he spoke quietly enough that the others couldn’t hear, “I ain’t never let a lady pay, not for a night as fun as this.”

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) blushed, and her head bowed.  She could not meet his eyes; she feared he’d see the utter adoration she had garnered for him over the last few hours swimming through her irises.  For whatever reason, that would have been worse than when she first faced him in the diner.  Their group of six began to head for the exit, and (Y/N) found herself retreating into her own mind.  She didn’t want to leave, not yet.  She had only just met Elvis; she wanted to know more about him, she wanted to spend more time with him.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Betty left to use the phone booth to call Jimmie, and Elvis, the true southern gentleman he was, insisted on waiting around until Jimmie came to pick them up.  (Y/N) let herself believe it was because he wanted to spend more time with her just as she did him.  Their group continued to chat, picking up the conversations they had dropped before their group dispersed a few hours prior.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Jimmie arrived sooner than (Y/N) had hoped, his tired eyes shining brightly as he realized that his sister was alright after she hadn’t returned to the carnival camp.  Scotty walked Betty to Jimmie’s truck, holding it open with a grin as they said their goodbyes, and (Y/N) hung back to exchange a few last words with Elvis.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎Elvis let his arm drape over (Y/N)’s shoulder, and he pulled her into a one-armed hug, his large hand secured on her arm to hold her close.  (Y/N) felt butterflies erupt in her stomach, and they only worsened when he dropped his hand to slip a neatly folded napkin into the waistband of her skirt.

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎“If ya ever find yourself in Memphis,” he quietly said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he led her to Jimmie’s truck.  He leaned against the open door, offering his hand to help her inside.  (Y/N) smiled at him, but her eyes fell to the younger teenage girl standing a few feet behind him.  Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest, and her face was drawn into a pinched glare directed only at (Y/N).

‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎(Y/N) knew at that moment that if her father didn’t kill her for her behavior tonight, Dixie would.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇs: Guys, I am obsessed with writing this series. Which, I guess is great news for you! I hope you guys liked this part, I enjoyed writing more of Elvis in such a relaxed environment. Part three should be coming hopefully within the next day or so, since I can't seem to stop writing this. I would love to hear your feedback! Thank you so, so much for the incredible love on part one, it's been amazing to see that grow so fast and I hope you guys stick with me to the end of this series! I love you all!

My taglist for this series is currently full, but if you would like to be added to others, click here! Follow the tag #TheBigShotMississippiBoy to stay up to date on this series!

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @mirandastuckinthe80s, @re3kin, @pumkiinpasties, @harleyscheekheart, @seaweedbrain00

#elvis #austin butler elvis #elvis presley imagine #elvis imagine #austin butler imagine #elvis fanfic #austin butler fanfic #elvis x reader #austin butler x reader #ghxst-heart #ghxst-heart imagine #ghxst-heart drabble #TheBigShotMississippiBoy

[faunandfloraas]

the lonely st music video is so funny, felix and his finger guns, jeongin walking into the night sky. hyunjins in a saw trap. seungmin's locked in a greyhound racing ring or some shit. everything chans doing. lee know seemingly falling to his death but waking up in the alien abduction lights room, blue steels to the camera. end scene.

#no idea what all that was about but sure #stray kids #skz

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Hello brilliant friend! if you’re still playing that wip ask, and no-one has already asked, I would love to hear about ‘AC Milan’ and/or ‘Tear Me Apart’! (all of them sound amazing- how do you DO this!!??!!) 💚🌹💚🌹💚

Yes of course! And even if I wasn’t I could never say no to you :) Thank youuuuuuuuu (from this wip ask post)

AC Milan is when the team is playing their last Champions League match of the first round (away at you guessed it, AC Milan, they are my Serie A team) and they need to win to advance to the next round. There’s a corner and Jamie, Zoreaux and an AC Milan player all collide and are varying levels of injured. But the Greyhounds only have one substitution left and they need a goalie and Jamie doesn’t want to leave them playing with one less so he hides his injury and then obviously makes it worse.

He wasn’t as fast as he usually was, his cuts not as quick, but adrenaline was a hell of a drug.

It was injury time when it all fell apart. Jamie was racing down an AC Milan player, too delirious with pain to even fully tell who it was, Hernandez or Giroux; they both looked the same from behind with their blonde tips. Jamie reached them just as the player entered the zone, and he slid into the tackle, hitting the ball away, but fire shot through his hamstring, and someone screamed.

Jamie would later discover it was him.

Tear Me Apart is where Jamie tears his Achilles and it covers his recovery and working back to play.

“Don’t you need a fucking MRI or something to confirm it?” Roy asks.

The doctor shook his head. Jamie didn’t need an MRI either. He knew his body. And his body right now had betrayed him, given out on him. Roy looked ashen. Torn ACLs were commonplace. Horrible news, but it was something Roy had experience with. Achilles tears were less common. Fifteen years ago, it would’ve ended a career. Now, not always. Beckham had come back from one, and he was older than Jamie at the time. Someone on Aston Villa he thinks he remembered recently too. It would be a long road, but Jamie never shied away from hard work.

#thank you thank you thank you #ask box is always open #jamie tartt #whump #untitled ac milan fic #untitled achilles fic #ted lasso

[robert-the-greyhound]

The Aftermath; Rising of the People.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo Credit: Karl Kachmarksy

#Greyhound #Greyhounds #GreyhoundsMakeGreatPets #PetsNotBets #RescuedNotRetired #IrishGreyhound #GreyhoundsOfTumblr #Animal Rights #greyhoundsoftumblr #Ban Greyhound Racing #End Greyhound Racing

[robottheodorlasso]

So, I went looking up the translation of AFC Richmond motto, Gradarius Firmus Victoria, because I was thinking of using it in some future fanart. (And also because I’m a Latin Motto Enjoyer™️) Queue me stumbling upon maybe the funniest and most targeted Ted Lasso article I’ve ever seen, detailing the motto's janky latin. Which was then followed up with a second article after the official Ted Lasso Twitter account gave It’s in-universe translation of the motto/ reasoning for the butchered Latin. This is exactly the kind of indulgent nonsense I’m in love with.

Before I get into it, I absolutely recommend you go read the article! It made me laugh, gets delightfully technical about Latin translation and goes into a lot of depth about why the motto just does not work grammatically. but even outside of that it touches on other points such as the classism inherent in sports, latin, and linguistics, albeit briefly. Look, it's a 7 min read and a joy at that, it’s worth the time!

TL;DR: Dear lord, the mottos Latin is so janky. not only are the grammatical cases just strange, but it uses a mix of both masculine and feminine endings (which I admit, I’m embarrassed I didn’t notice till now.) to quote Ed DeHoratius:

“The Latin motto in the end is at best ambiguous and at worst as fictional as the show itself. Gradarius Firmus Victoria is, if correct grammatically, awkward Latin”

The article goes on to give a few possible translations, though they all require editing the original phrase to actually make it work, but ultimately the conclusion DeHoratius comes to is this:

“The strongest meaning is ‘A strong hand / coach guides us to victory’; that has the strength of other Latin mottos that I assume the show is trying to invoke. But that’s not what the Latin says.”

(Ok but side note: the bit that got me was that to modern knowledge, ‘gradarius’ has only ever been used ONCE in classical Latin. Which is just, so funny. Honey… how did you get into this motto??)

However, After this article was written the official Twitter account stated that in 1899, the AFC Richmond owner wanted the club to have a motto and that is should be “slow and steady wins the race.” But After local latin scholars refused to translate the phrase because they thought it was inappropriate for a team called “the greyhounds” he asked his 6 year old daughter to help with the translation.

Which, as an in universe thing? Kinda a funny detail! Seems like something a rich Victorian white guy would do! But that’s not *really* how the actual Latin came about now was it? DeHoratius himself in his article says he’s not sure if the bad translation job or an intentional joke. Which, yeah! Hard to tell! Though to me it does feel like it was an unintentional mistake that was pointed out. Take this all as your reminder to talk to your local linguists and classicists if you want something properly translated into Latin as a dictionary is only gonna get you so far. Frankly, it’s a good idea to get any translation to or from a language you arnt familiar with double checked.

Anyways what meaning will I go with? Personally I’m inclined to go with Ed DeHoratius’s translation, as I feel it more fitting for the shows Themes and Motifs™️

#ted lasso #ted lasso tv #afc richmond #ted lasso meta #is this meta? I don’t know! but it’s not my usual fanart that’s for sure #anyways this drove me so insane I had to subject everyone else to this information #tho I’m pretty sure some people know this but hey it’s new info to me! #I am Not a linguist or a classicist but a Seperate third thing (guy who reads a lot of Latin phrases bc of hyperfixations) #not my art #if you see typos.... please be kind dyslexia is a nightmare that plagues me

[lukanine]

sighthounds !

(first post, woohoo) here's a brief overview on sighthounds! the silly guys :]

ID: a borzoi running; they have long legs and long, white fur. /end ID

these are dogs that are used to hunt prey by sight

they're usually slender and elongated, and are very good at running

they are the oldest type of purebred dog

they also have several other names, including: gazehounds, windhounds, and greyhounds (this one is outdated; it used to refer to the whole group of sighthounds, but it now restricted to only a few breeds

there are around 53 sighthound breeds, with half of them originating in africa, asia, and the mediterranean region

sighthounds hunt in two different ways: 1. chase + catch + kill, 2. chase + catch + secure (without killing) due to religious traditions that require game to be killed in a ritual manner in order to be eaten

they have good vision

usually calm, sociable, and sensitive, + they typically aren't barkers

some popular sighthounds include: greyhounds, borzois, whippets, afghan hounds, and irish wolfhounds

they are used a lot in coursing (prey chasing competitions) and racing sports

very strong prey drive, as do most sporting dogs

ID: brindle and white whippet standing still, facing right. /end ID

#dogs #sighthound #greyhound #whippet #dog facts #animals #gazehound is such a pretty name for them ......

[kangals]

Congrats on possible puppy! If it's not too personal, I wanted to ask if you would ever consider rescuing another greyhound? Or was Boone a one-time thing?

I’ve thought about it quite a bit and I think my answer comes down to “yes, but not right now.” I loved Boone with my entire heart and he was a wonderful dog. He also gave me a lot of challenges and stress, some with common breed-isms and sometimes just uniquely. Certainly right now, that’s all still too raw to ever consider doing it again. But I suspect I’ll always have a very soft spot for greys and could see myself with one again someday.

honestly with the decline of racing I’m not even sure what the rescue landscape will look like in s few years - we’ve already seen such a sharp drop in rescues and lots of puppies and younger dogs popping up. I don’t know if Racers are a dying breed (no pun intended) and if the greys of the future will still be the same.

a week after Boone passed I had to work a community pet-friendly event, and I was dreading it because I always end up seeing at least a few greys at those, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to just burst into tears on the spot. and I did see greys, but honestly, I was fine. because all I could think while I was watching them and patting them was “you’re not my dog.” I knew they weren’t him, and that disconnect was extremely jarring. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get over that.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

🏎️💨 THE FORMULA 1 TAG GAME! 🏎️💨:

stealing this from the timeline...

+ zero pressure tags (but i love reading these!) - @lecrep @souvenir116 @fueledbyremembering @thinkingaboutfilm11 @supercollide @fireopaal @callsign-shortstack @thatguywasvaping @linewire @buryawoman and whoever else wants to do it.

1. Who or what got you into F1?

charles edits on tiktok + drive to survive, lmao. i'm one of those bitches. sorry not sorry!

but! i will say! what greg james said about f1 resonated with me because i have never ever really cared about physics or engineering in any deep or substantial way. and now, i am avidly reading people like supermak's incredible posts talking about downforce or apexes or deltas and car configs, looking at the charts and the data, and i just think that is a really fun place to be.

f1blr and f1 fandom so far has been a nice confirmation that multiple things can be true - yes we want to make the vroom vroom boys kiss, but we also care deeply about the ethics of the sport, the growth, about driver + team stories, driver pipelines and equity and race excitement and engineering. i think it's really cool these things can coexist.

the sport never should be one thing to one group of people, you know? (wow that ended up longer than i thought.)

2. Who was the very first F1 driver you supported? Do you support them now? Have your opinions on them differed or stayed the same since then?

charles, and still charles lmao. unfortunately.

i am an oscar piastri enthusiast also. i think there's a bit of recency bias at work here but he's come swimming like a fledgling shark into the shallows with his deadpan personality and i'm just very intrigued by His Whole Thing.

i want good things for yuki! and lewis! my GOAT!! give the man his 8th :( (it probably isn't happening but lets' not manifest that.......)

TL;DR it's been a joy getting to "know" the grid (or at least as much of their public persona will tell us) and getting into the lore. *shaky hands* the LORE!

also nobody asked, but, schumacher was an omnipresent name when i was growing up - which might give away my age - but he always felt like an old school driver. in the sense of his mythos, his mystery, his dominance of the track. that era of f1 is over and the sport only moves on and evolves, but in the same way his presence felt a lot more removed and unrelatable to me, and far away. the speed of technology now and broadcasting and social content makes f1 feel more fun and accessible. it feels a lot nicer to find fandom spaces like f1blr where there are different audiences (female, queer, a variety of ages and backgrounds etc) yelling about the same things.

it's just a different time, not a value judgment. but i am enjoying it.

3. Who’s your current favourite F1 driver?

see above, but i'm 100% here for lestappen having a track battle next year only for oscar to pip them to the podium in one of the races lmao. i think it'd be amazing.

4. Is there a driver pairing or pairings you support? What made you attracted to that pairing in the first place?

*long sigh* once again lestappen baybee... the lore... the parallels... the sun-moonism.... the enemies-to-rivals-to-friends-and-gay-rival-soulmates-something

i like other pairings too like in my about me post - landoscar, galex, blabla. my dark horses are riccussell (george/daniel) and groto (george/toto).

something about that greyhound, very wound-up, very upper-middle-class, highly-strung, born-to-want-but-not-to-always-win english george:

5. Do your parents, siblings or relatives have a favourite team and/or favourite driver(s)?

i got my sister into f1 at around the same time but she's not indicated any preference on drivers yet tbh. she's a casual fan. must be nice being normal.

6. Do you have any favourite races? Are there any that stand out to you the most?

haven't seen enough of them to say, 'cus i only started following like two months ago as the season was winding down. i looooved Vegas '23 though and the legendary charles overtake. he's just so fucking smart and cunning when he's given the conditions and the car to be. watching Abu Dhabi '21 on replay was also a TRIP.

7. Do you have a favourite circuit? Can be from the past or from the current calendar.

i'm still learning them. but i'm mildly curious about the old tracks like nürburgring - it was from a totally different era of the sport and it'd be nice to rebalance the long tracks with the current spectacle of street races even though that doesn't seem to be where the sport's moving towards.

8. Have you ever been to an F1 race in real life? Feel free to tell us your experience going to one if you like.

i actually live in a place with a track... i had a free ticket for general access once many years ago but that was pre-f1 hyperfixation, and at that point i didn't understand the appeal at all. idk.

i feel like f1 is actually a better experience for me to watch on tv as a fan.... probably blasphemy i know.

9. Have you ever met an F1 driver in real life?

no and idk that i would because i've seen celebrities in person in the past and it's usually so quick and transactional because they're surrounded by hordes of handlers and/or they're usually running somewhere even if it's a fan-focused interaction.

THAT SAID! i would love to attend a talk by Lewis or just generally hear what he has to say, because what he's done is so beyond f1 at this point and he always shows up in terms of advocacy and speaking up, in recent years, where it really matters. he's a fascinating figure, sometimes contradictory, sometimes controversial, but i definitely would love to hear what he has to say.

10. Do you have a favourite F1 car? If so, what is it?

i am partial to that black and gold lotus from the 80s, ngl:

and this 7up car (jordan 191?) which with the fujifilm sponsorship is just peak 90s:

11. Do you have a favourite one win wonder?

does charles count as a one win wonder............ fight me in the comments

12. Do you have any favourite quotes from the F1 world? This can either be inspirational or hilarious.

"don't waste it" from seb vettel to charles on seb's last day

#tag game #this became an essay #but whatever #what is tumblr for if not being indulgent in longform

[wyrddogs]

Big weekend for babydog! He graduated from running 1/2 the length of the field to 3/4 length, and today was introduced to box training. When he's racing other dogs, they'll be released from the box like in greyhound racing to ensure a fair start for everyone.

I had a friend hold him in the entrance to the box with the exit door open and a clear view of the lure. And as soon as the lure moved she released him to run. This builds an association so the box = fun lure chasing time. She says he was perfect, so this was an excellent introduction.

As for me, I'm getting lots of experience lure operating for all kinds of breeds and sizes. Some of the dogs I lure opped for this weekend included whippets and greyhounds, salukis, afghans, border whippets and other lurchers, an ambully, silken windhounds, dachshunds, terriers of various flavors, and a floppy labrador puppy. The whippet and greyhound races no longer terrify me like they used to, which is great! I'm also getting much better about judging where to stop the lure at the end of the race.

My goal this year is to learn how to lure op for lure coursing. I'm told it's way different than straight racing, so it should be a fun challenge.

#zaku terv #belgian tervuren #lure coursing #racing