#Professor!Oscar Isaac

[loljustignoreth4t]

when you get a new character fixation but find out that there's a lot less fics of them then you were hoping for

[wishchip106]

i wonder at what point Erik realized this would’ve been the last time he would ever see Charles again

now i need an au where the xmen didn’t manage to save Charles in time or they just don’t show up for some reason

Erik seeing Charles’s face on Apocalypse with likely some kind of remnants of his voice

Erik realizing he’s not only lost his wife and daughter, but also the last person who has been able to see the good in him and love him for who he truly is.

he can’t even kill Apocalypse for this, he keeps coming back 😾 stupid ass cockroach

i wonder how much he would regret accepting that helmet, once again betraying Charles’s trust and now never being able to gain it back

either Erik leaves the horsemen (maybe bringing some of them with him) and rallies the xmen to go kill Apocalypse or out of such anger and grief and regret he does end up destroying the world and he has to live with the fact that everything he loves will be destroyed

i don’t think he would even have any free will anymore since Apocalypse has Charles’s telepathy

or maybe he still has the helmet who knows

but anyway Erik is not doing good 🙁

[mcudc616]

X-Men: Apocolypse || - Empire Magazine.

[vktrsnclr]

TEACHER'S PET (R18+)

MINORS GTFO

pairing: miguel o'hara x f reader

summary: you're a college freshman in biochemistry and miguel is your professor in biochemical engineering, a major subject that you're about to fail.

warning: I'm a feminist and I'm concerned.

word count: 1.9k+

contents: humiliation, degradation, age gap, height difference, fingering, oral sex, p in v, hair pulling, public groping.

MASTERLIST

It's your first year in college studying biochemistry, the exam results for the first semester's finals are supposed to be distributed today.

Your professor in biochemical engineering, Mr. O'hara discusses the grading system for the second semester but you're losing out of focus. You're staring at his thick voluptuous thighs, thick veiny hands and imagined how he would choke you with it.

You took a gulp at the thought of it. He then started the distribution of the report cards. Your stare followed him as he sat on the table, individually calling out your names and distributing the cards.

"Parker, good job. Reyes, do better next time. Stacy, impressive. Stark..... dios mio." His voice was hoarse. The way he says your last name followed by a spanish term you don't understand sounded like a moan but truly, a term of disappointment.

"Ms. Stark... Are you seriously daydreaming right now?" He asks with a stern voice.

"Oh um, no sir. W-What is it?" Your classmates tried to hold their laugh, you can hear them giggling.

"Get your ass over here." He orders. You stood and walked up to him, hands behind your back, signing 'fuck you' to all of your classmates.

"What are we gonna do with this?" He points at your grade in bio-engineering which is his subject and a major too. You looked at it by bending your torso down, slightly bowing cause you have an eyesight of a dying man. Your cleavage flashes in front of him unintentionally. He tries to look away and focus your report card.

"2.0 (C/73-76%). This is bad." Everyone in your school knows that you're a daughter of a billionaire genius and this is what you got.

Deep inside, you know that the reason you failed is because you've been partying too hard. Just like your father, you're a party animal.

"What can I do?" You asked worriedly.

"Meet me at my office at 6. Class dismissed." He stood up, towering over you at 6'9 ft. He walked out of the room with your classmates.

Your friend, Gwen Stacy clinged on your arm on the way to the cafeteria. You sat with her and his boyfriend, Peter Parker. You can't really understand what they're saying cause your mind is split between your daddy getting disappointed and your disappointed professor being such a daddy.

Four hours later, it's time to go home but you still have to go to Mr. O'Hara regarding your first semester results. You walked into an empty faculty, the other teachers already went home. You walked by Miguel's office window and saw him looking at his watch with what seems to be an irritated brow. You proceeded to walk inside his office, it's smells good and is neatly organized.

"Good evening Mr. Ohara."

"Miss Stark. You're 10 minutes late. Seems like you're not being very committed to your studies." He clenched his jaw and his pair of brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry I was j-"

"Was just expecting 'daddy' to fix it with his money?" He stood up and mocks, pertaining to your father offering a grant to your school.

"No... sir, I just ran into my friends." You opposed, looking down at the floor.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Sit down." He sighs.

In a heartbeat, you sat down in a reclining chair right next to the table. He walks up to you, taking his crotch inches away from your face.

"Good girl." He takes your chin to look up at him. The view made your heart race and your cunt twitch.

"You think I'm not aware of your lustful eyes, hermosa?" He looks directly into your eyes with his hands still on your chin. Your eyes gawks and your face slowly turns red, not knowing what to say.

"Mr- Sir, I uh, I'm here for extra credits." You stuttered.

"Uh huh, what else?" He leans down, not breaking an eye contact.

"Uhhh... um m-my dad can pay you!" You blurted out of nowhere. You didn't know what to say since your mind is occupated by dirty thoughts but now you just seemed like a brat.

"Daddy's money hmm?"

"I'm your daddy here." He whispered roughly onto your ear, his hands shifted from your chin into your neck, gently gripping under your jaws.

"Daddy?" You spoke weakly.

"That's right, bitch." He replied with smirk.

You kind of expected this as a cliché porn category but you had no idea that you're gonna experience this in real life.

"You want credits? You little slut?" He cups the side of your cheeks and leans back to watch your face near his pants again.

"Yes! Yes, I want it." You nodded in agreement.

"Then earn it." He grabs a fistful of your hair and rubs it softly in his black pants with a huge bulge on it. You can smell his essence leaking from the fabric. This is all you ever dreamed of since the first day of school, you didn't think it would happen but it DID. All of your fantasies, clothed in black, sliding across your face.

You unbuttoned his pants in a hurry, dropping his undergarments down then finally busting his dick in front of you.

"Good girl." He slapped your face and you loved it. You proceeded to wet your lips to seduce him. He gripped on your hair tighter as you lick the tip of his 8-inch fat cock.

"Fuck." He groans, his voice deep and hoarse. You licked his length, wetting it together with his pre-cum leaking from the tip then swirled your tongue in its head while jerking him off.

"Holy shit you're good." The corner of his lip curling upwards.

He started throat fucking you, his head thrown back, moaning in pleasure. His cock reached your throat but you continued to take it until your eyes water. Miguel likes the way you look, internally choked by his massive cock.

He drags you up and makes you open your mouth as you spread your tongue that still has his pre-cum.

"Swallow." He ordered and you followed. You showed him an empty tongue to prove it.

"I'm gonna fucking destroy you." He places his hand on your chin to squeeze your face and starts kissing you roughly, like you've taken something from him. This is exactly how you want it. It's wet, sloppy and aggressive.

His kisses trailed down on your neck, you let him take off your clothes, even tear it up. He threw your designer clothes in the air like it was nothing. You would let this man do anything to you.

He began to roam his hands all over your body, from pumping your breasts down to your vagina, already dripping. He circles his middle finger on your clit sensually.

"You want this?" Miguel asks between the kisses.

"Uh huh." Your mouth can't form a proper word but a moan. He slaps you again, wanting you to say it clearly.

"You want this, you whore?!" He dips his hand on your hole, teasing you.

"Yes daddy, do it!" A high pitch pornographic whine came out of your mouth.

He then crooks his head onto your neck, leaving marks as he rams his finger up in your hole, sounds of wet squelching, moans and ass slaps filled the corners of his office. He reaches for the back of your clit inside your tight cunt and it drove you crazy. Your eyes roll at the back of your head. Unlike your other sexual partners, Miguel knows all about human anatomy.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you." He takes your hands from his cock to your back, pulls his belt out of his pants and then ties your wrists.

"Yes please, I've been dreaming of this." You replied while he bends you over on the desk.

"Oh I bet you do you fucking slut." Miguel teases the tip of his cock on your clit, both wet from foreplay.

"Please fuck... fuck me."

Without any reply, Miguel rams his long and fat dick inside you, filling your walls with euphoria.

You groaned in pain after he put his full length in.

"Daddy it hurts."

"Nah, you can take it cariño." He reassures then pins your head on the desk while thrusting deep on your leaking hole.

"You... You've been spending a lot of time with that Parker boy huh? You like him?" He asks curiously, grabbing your hair.

"No, please he's with Gwen." You explained.

"You guys fuckin? Huh?" He ignores your answer while pounding at your pussy, making you scream in pain and pleasure.

"No daddy, Pleaaase.... I only want you. I want youuu." He grabs your tits from the back, holding it for support as his pace goes slower, making it comfortable for you.

"That's my girl. Now I'm gonna make you mine." His last words before sucking the skin off of your neck, leaving love marks that is visible to everyone.

"Ironman's daughter, pumping on my dick with her drenched punani. What's he gonna do? Save you?" He laughs devilishly. At this point you didn't care about your reputation. Your body wants him, even your cunt pulses everytime you peak behind your back to see him using you.

"You're my daddy, please fuckin destroy me." You surrendered. Miguel removes his belt on your wrists and puts it back as he pins it over your head in missionary position. Now, he can see your face while he fucks you, your lips smeared in red lipstick, smiling psychotically. Becoming undone by the stroke of his dick, his hands playing with your nipples and the other holding your wrists.

Your smile made him excited. His thrusts go faster and faster as you scream his name. "Mr. O'hara I'm cumming." You whined. It made him chuckle, you using honorifics despite your pussy currently being destroyed. He bit his lips, carried you by the hips, using you as his fucktoy. He pumps his dick in your tight little hole in a doggy position. Your feet doesn't even touch the floor because of your height difference. You simply just hang in the air with your pussy continously getting pounded.

"Shit shit shit I'm cumming." He whimpers.

"Cum inside daddy." It's the first time you had sex without protection and now you want him to cum inside you.

"That's right, princesa."

He continued plunging his sword into your uterus ramming even harder, seconds later, he busts his load. Your pussy's leaking with his thick cum all the way to your thighs. He lets go of your hips and places you on the table, back arched, pussy flowing.

He puts your panties back without cleaning your pussy, only the sides and the extra cum dripped on your legs and thighs.

"You did great, mija" He kisses your forehead.

"I did?"

"Yes you did." He smiles softly, saying it like he's a proud mentor.

After that encounter, he kept you as his pet, your friends noticed the hickeys on your neck every now and then and your alibi is always getting burnt by the hair curler. Flash Thompson even joked that the hair curler you're talking about is Mr. O'Hara.

Even if you denied it and threatened him with a lawsuit, It's obvious. Your lustful stares in the classroom, the special treatment you get in class above all the other students.

At times when the corridor is empty, he would grope your ass, spank it and squeeze it until you reach the classroom, walking in together at the same time. Your friends would always ignore the same smell coming out of you and Mr. O'hara. Fucking in every empty room, any chance that you get. You've certainly become the teacher's pet.

[iolaussharpe-24]

I see two ways to look at this scene...

Battle of the Leto Atreides

2. (My favorite) Battle of the short kings

[hier--soir]

zig im gonna be honest i hoarded this ask for over a week purely because i liked scrolling down my inbox to see this picture every day so thank you for that

[roninreverie]

Hey RWBY fandom! 📣

I'm doing a thing in part 2 of my STRQ fic and I want to know... Has anybody done this with Ozma's incarnations before and do we want to debate these/ play "match the names with the faces"?

EDIT: upon memory of how the Great War worked, I guess the timeline looks more like this... but I am stretching things having Emmanuel and Phadrig come between the King and Ozpin.

[hoedamn-eron]

confrontation

Steven confronts Marc and Jake after you leave.

Warnings: Age gap, but it is appropriate/legal. Steven may be a little OOC, and incredibly judgemental of Jake. Some swearing. Inaccurate depictions of DID (only knowledge from the show and some light research). Angsty. I did not proofread this at all. Word count: 1,502 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Set in my Doctor Steven Grant universe, after part 6.

Series Masterlist

Steven flinched as you slammed the door closed behind you. He stared in confusion long after your departure, before he took a glance at the small mirror where it hung on the wall next to his front door, where Jake was looking back at him with an unreadable look on his face.

He had the entire evening planned out. He was going to wine and dine you, with your favourite meal, the one that you mentioned your mum used to make you all the time. He was going to give you your favourite dessert, and the bouquet of peonies that he had stashed in his bathroom and ask you if you wanted to be official. Now…this has happened.

Steven didn’t know how to feel. No, that was a lie, he did. He was pissed; pissed at Jake for saying those things to you, pissed at Marc for not stopping him. Steven knew that meeting you had rubbed Marc and Jake the wrong way, that it would be too complicated for just one of them to be in a relationship, but he didn’t think that they would have gone out of their way to destroy what felt like the only good thing to happen to him for a while.

“What did you say to them?” Steven asked, looking hard at the reflection in the mirror. “What did you say, Jake?”

“Nothing, hermano, you don’t need to worry about it,” came Jake’s gruff reply.

Even after all this time, Jake’s rough voice still took Steven by surprise sometimes.

“Yes, actually, I do need to worry about it,” Steven snapped, still glaring at Jake’s reflection, irritated that his head mate didn’t seem all that concerned about the situation Steven was put in. Steven grit his teeth as he ran his hands through his hair, starting to pace around his kitchen, barely hearing Jake trying to justify his actions, Marc annoyingly silent. “Just shut up for a minute!”

“Easy, Steven,” Marc muttered, finally deciding that he needed to say something before Steven had a heart attack.

“Don’t tell me to be ‘easy’, Marc, when you and Jake have pushed away the only person that matters to me.”

“Whoa,” said Marc, and Steven could see him at the corner of his eye, holding his hands up in defence in the mirror. “I haven’t done anything!”

“Exactly, that’s the problem,” groaned Steven, throwing his head back as he collapsed onto his couch, a huge sigh leaving him. His body ached. His head ached, his heart ached. Everything ached. He raked his hands through his hair as he leaned forward, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

He wasn’t getting any younger. He was pushing forty and only had a goldfish as a companion, until he met Marc, then Layla and Jake. Although happy to finally feel like he had a group of friends that weren’t strangers painted as gold statues, at the end of the day, Steven was jealous, of course, that Marc got to live a life he’d always wanted for himself; to have a wife, and the start of a family. Then Jake came along and told his two head mates of the life he led, where he’d had countless flings and got to live dangerously (although Steven admitted that he’d prefer Marc’s way of living). They gave up Khonshu (after a stern talking to with Jake how he hid away that they were still connected) and Steven finally thought that he could live a regular life, maybe meet someone, make a proper career for himself. But Steven came to accept that he just wasn’t going to have the same experiences as Marc and Jake, and he was okay with that.

Until he met you. And you had lit up his entire world from the darkness that he had hidden himself away in. He thought that Marc and Jake would have been happy for him, that he was putting himself out there, something Marc had always told him to do, but evidently that was a problem now. He didn’t understand. You were amazing, caring, and so lovely, and now his future with you was fading away before his very eyes, all because his head mates, his supposed brothers, had driven you away.

“Why can’t I just have something for myself?” Steven asked, and Marc and Jake weren’t sure if the question was aimed at them. “Why can’t I have someone and be happy?”

“It doesn’t work like that, not with us.”

“You managed to have Layla!” Steven cried, looking up angrily at Marc’s reflection, where he was still stood in the mirror. “And Jake…Jake seems to have had everyone!”

“Hey!” Jake snapped, but he went ignored.

“I just wanted…I wanted to be loved. I wanted someone to come home to, someone who was pleased to see me, that wasn’t stuck in my head 24/7,” groaned Steven, burying his head in his hands. “And you took that from me. Why would you do that? Do you want me to be miserable?”

He was met with silence again. Steven sighed in frustration and threw his hands up, slumping back against the couch.

“You know it’s complicated,” Jake finally replied.

“I know it is,” replied Steven. “But you just couldn’t let things…happen, could you? You didn’t have to get involved! You didn’t even need to meet them! We could have just lived happily. I would have fronted and had a real, loving relationship where you didn’t have to be included.”

“And what if they wanted to get married?” Marc asked, a sharpness to his tone. “What if they wanted to move in? What then? How would you explain where you would need to go every night when Jake’s driving?”

Steven didn’t reply because he’d already had those questions himself. And honestly, he didn’t have any answers. He agreed that he had a naïve way of thinking that it would have worked out, but he had just wanted to give it a go. He’d found you breath-taking, and he just couldn’t let you disappear from his life without him getting to know you, even just a little bit. His heart made that little jump is always did when he thought of you, remembering how you just suddenly appeared that one day when he was sat with your friend in the coffee shop. And he just loved you, so much, and he never even got to tell you before Jake had stuck his nose in -

“Buddy,” Marc said, sensing Steven’s anxiety start to skyrocket. “It’ll get easier, yeah?”

Steven didn’t acknowledge Marc before he went about cleaning up the kitchen, now not even remotely hungry. Marc and Jake continued to talk among themselves, talking as if Steven wasn’t there (and he truly wished he wasn’t). Steven ignored them as he put the untouched meals in his fridge then walking towards the bedroom. Might as well put his pyjamas on, he wasn’t doing anything anymore.

He tried to watch his usual TV but it just wasn’t sinking in. It was nearly midnight when he decided to end the day, hoping tomorrow, after a night’s sleep, would give him a different perspective, that he’ll have an idea on how to make this mess up to you. He still ignored Marc and Jake’s quips as he turned the lights off and climbed into his still messy bed from that morning, double checking his phone alarm as he plugged it in to charge.

And just for a moment, he stared at his phone, the urge to text you overtaking him.

Was that even a good idea? Probably not. Did he give you space? Well, obviously, you had told him so when you stormed out. He couldn’t blame you, his situation wasn’t ideal and he wasn’t quite ready to tell you about Marc and Jake (and they weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to get to know you). You’re probably talking to your friends about his weird brother, and how Steven had no backbone when it came to being honest with you.

He probably deserved it.

Steven sighed as he picked up his phone, opening his texts to your thread before hesitating. What would he say? Nothing would make this situation any better. You had said you wanted your space and here he was, about to contact you. His chest hurt at the thought that you might actually want to end things with him after all this, and he’d go back to just being a professor at the university, second fiddle to Marc and Jake. Just another thing that he would have to come to terms with; that Steven Grant would never get to really be fully happy.

Steven bit his lip as he sent out an apology text you, sending it before he could do anymore stupid things. He threw his phone down on his bedside table, suddenly unable to look at it.

“You did the right thing,” Marc said quietly.

Steven rolled his eyes before turning to switch his bedside lamp off. “Shut up.”

Tagged - @kingtwhiddleston, @ahookedheroespureheart, @harrys-tittie, @avasif, @romanarose, @othersideoftheparadise, @mt2sssss, @milkymoon2483, @n0ripeaches, @theconsultingdoctor10, @brandyscorner, @moonliqhtszn, @classypeachlightsalad, @toracainz, @preciousbabypeter, @teacupcollector, @hot-mess-express1, @starkdanverss, @mintgreen24, @eonnyx

[creatureesque]

thinking about dilf arthur. deserves a seperate post

[anjaelle]

The Next Great American Epic

Pairings: Professor!Oscar Isaac x Black Female!Reader

Warnings: Oral (f!receiving), Age Gap (Reader is in mid-late 20s), Student x Teacher Relationship, Unprotected Sex (strap up, people), implied infidelity

Summary: Professor Hernandez Estrada is a proven smartass and literary genius. As much as you can't stand the way he tears your work to shreds, you can't help but respect him and hold his opinion of you in high regard.

Word Count: 4.2K

a/n: Based on this post and the intense love I have for gray, studious looking Oscar. I started this in July 2022, and I'm just now finishing it. I'm semi ashamed but also not. Don't judge me.

(gif source)

Oscar treated every lecture like a performance, to some degree. You could feel the passion behind his words and knew he spent countless sleepless nights dissecting the language of the great intellectuals before him.

He was a nerd, thus, incredibly attractive in that "dad's best friend who's a museum curator and laughs at his own history jokes" kind of way. His written work was brilliant. You wanted to impress him. Not just because he was cute--though that was a bonus--but because he pissed you off with how incredibly critical he was of you. You were convinced he did it just to fuck with you, specifically, for shits and giggles. Every so often, you'd zone out imagining him cackling madly at your work, using his Red Pen of Death to hurt your pride. Sometimes you'd imagine a deeply passionate argument between you two, ending with you throwing things. Sometimes it ended with you splayed out on his desk. Again.

When that happened, you'd mentally return to the lecture and find him looking at you, curiously. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that he could read your thoughts.

He paced the front of the room in a heavy black sweater with the sleeves rolled up, occasionally pushing his thick rimmed glasses up his nose as he spoke. The brief pauses he took to sip water or ask a question were punctuated by the click-clack of keyboards throughout the room. Or, in your case, the shuffling of papers. Writing with pen to paper helped your scattered brain remember things better, though you couldn't help but feel largely out of touch for the archaic method of note-taking.

"Who decides what literary work is inherently American?" He asked to the class, "Where's the line? When the artist of color is placed into a box as an 'other' or designated as American with an asterisk, are publications and critics implying that the author is not truly American?

"After all," he said, removing his glasses to wipe them, "the cultural zeitgeist is shaped by an amalgamation of many experiences. Is the story of an immigrant from Colombia 100 years ago any less American than the tale of a farmer from Oklahoma during the Great Depression? When we ask for tried and true stories of American Grit, whose stories are we reading?"

Sure, he said that experiences mattered. But, god, was he anal about the details. The newest revision of your work peeked from behind your notebook, scarred in red ink. When you received it back earlier that afternoon, you resisted the burning desire to throw it back at him and tell him to eat a dick. The first couple of times he shot your writing down, you could understand perfectly what he was looking for. This time, you were sure that you were following his advice down to the letter, and it still wasn't good enough for him.

He absentmindedly pushed his salt and pepper curls from his forehead and you wanted to flip a table.

Oscar paused his pacing in front of your desk as you scribbled your thoughts down. You chanced a glance at him to find him already looking over your notes.

"Huh," he had the audacity to smile at you and mutter softly, "Nice handwriting."

Your cheeks warmed at the praise of your neatly looping cursive. The eyes of your peers burned into your back.

He gently tapped your desk with his calloused knuckle and continued on with his lecture, as if his little comment was just a natural part of his daily performance. It was the first time in a while that you'd interacted with him in a way that didn't involve him explaining why your marked up thesis was shit. You could appreciate the compliment, even if it had nothing to do with the quality of the work you put blood, sweat, and tears into.

And now you were annoyed again.

You knew that Oscar wasn't surprised to find you standing outside of his office. A polite smile graced his lips, though something else flickered across his features that you vaguely recognized. You plastered your own polite smile on your face and waved your thick stack of paper at him.

"Explain, Oscar."

Without another word, he tiredly unlocked his office door and motioned for you to enter the roomy space. Numerous large bookcases lined the wall parallel to his desk, and stacks of newspapers and literary journals decorated the ottoman rug that spanned the width of his office. A small fridge and espresso machine sat on a desk in the corner. Above it was a fading portrait of a young looking South Asian man with neatly combed hair and a trimmed mustache, wearing a smart looking suit. The first time you saw it, you surmised by the aged clothing and studious expression that it was a portrait of the university’s very first professor of color, Benjamin Kapoor.

The office was nearly the size of your studio apartment. Perfect for the department head, you thought. The minute he shut the door behind him, he sighed and ran his hand down his face.

"Well, first of all, 'Hey Oscar, how are you?' I'm great. Thanks for asking," He sarcastically quipped. “Would you like some coffee? Maybe some tea, if you’re cutting back on your habit, again?”

"Small talk is redundant," you handed him your papers, "you know why I'm here."

He plopped down in the plush chair behind his desk, and you followed suit on the couch beside it. His chair creaked as he leaned back and thumbed through the pages, reading his own notes. You couldn't quite get a read on his perception, but he hummed in thought. After a couple of minutes he handed your work back to you and shrugged.

"In simple terms: it's mechanical. You’re holding back on putting emotion into your characters. Your protagonist's factory worker father and merchant marine brother don’t feel real. It's too matter-of-fact. Too cold."

You shook your head in frustration, "I don't understand. First, you tell me that my language is too flowery. Now you're saying it's too mechanical. Which is it? Pick a criticism, because now it just feels like you're pulling it out of your ass."

The words slipped out before you could catch them, and your eyes widened in surprise at the venom laced in your tone. But, to your surprise, Oscar just laughed.

"Look, find a middle ground. I don't know how else to state it any plainer than I already have."

You wondered if you'd get expelled for throwing his briefcase out the window.

"I'm glad you think your bias is funny."

His expression changed at the implication, and he stared at you in confusion.

"Bias? Jesus, is that what you think?"

The words you'd been holding in for the majority of the semester came spilling out of you.

"I feel like you don't really respect me as a writer," you crossed your arms, "You think I'm stupid. Or incompetent. But this right here," you motioned to the paper in your lap, "This is just ridiculous. It's nitpicking and tearing my work to shreds. Do you get something out of this? This story means a lot to me. It's the story of my family. Do you understand the level of research and reading it took to bring this work into fruition? With all due respect, it's fucking hard, Oscar. I'm doing the best I can."

He merely stared at you with furrowed brows, "With as long as my tenure has been—for as long as you’ve known me, you think I don't know this?" He stood up from his chair and sat on the edge of his desk in front of you, "You think this problem is unique to you? I aim to challenge all of my students."

You laughed humorlessly, "I've seen the notes you write on other people's stories. It's nowhere near the same level of harsh."

"To you, it may not be."

"I still don't understand what you want from me. More details. Less details. More emotion. Less emotion. Descriptors, but not too descriptive. Make your characters realistic, but oh no, not too mundane. It's all bullshit--"

"It's missing the essence of you." He confessed, scratching his bearded chin, "Your story reads like something anyone could write. The only personal touches in your story--and if you notice, the only things I haven't edited much--are your letters and journal entries. They give a clear idea of how your characters interact with one another. And I think you add a little bit of yourself to them, outside of the narrative.

"Your voice is prevalent in everything you write. Unique and intuitive. Your work isn’t you, Bee. I miss...that."

There was a pregnant pause. Your stomach swooped at the slip of your old nickname, and you crossed your legs to stop the nervous fidgeting. He swallowed hard, and toyed with the watch on his wrist.

"I think..." you began, meeting his eyes for the first time, "I think I'm subconsciously trying to sound like you. Even though you piss me off."

He barked out a laugh, "I don't know if that's a compliment or a testament to how I can improve."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. He soldiered on.

"You're a brilliant writer. I just know you can do better," he drummed his fingers on his desk. Suddenly he grinned at you, "You've read my writing? You like my writing? And you're admitting it freely? And here I was thinking you hated me." Now it was your turn to furrow your brows in confusion. Catching your expression, he explained, "Every time I look at you, you either look bored, lost in your own thoughts, or like you want to murder me. And then there's the arguing--"

"I don't hate you, Oscar. You just exhaust me." You said, standing up to meet him at eye level. "You'd argue with you, too. You can't always be the only sarcastic asshole in the room."

He looked at you with a mix of amusement and what you could only describe as relief. He leaned forward, letting out a deep breath he seemed to be holding the entire time. You were close enough to smell his favorite dark roast coffee and his signature cologne--something bold, but warm and comfy. Kind of like him.

"Did you have any other questions? About the thesis or...something? You know you can ask me anything." he crossed his arms over his chest. Was he flexing? The thought tickled you.

"Just one. But not about the thesis." You asked, gently, taking a step towards him, "You said every time you look at me, I look pensive. How often do you look at me?"

He eyed you slowly. Fire danced behind his gaze, despite his calm demeanor. It reminded you of the look on his face when he read a moving sonnet or recited romantic prose. The sight of him looking at you like his favorite work of art made your belly warm. After a beat of silence that dragged on for ages, he licked his lips and shook his head, finally tearing his eyes away from you. He murmured, "More often than I should." Then he sighed, "We shouldn't be having this conversation. I'm not--it's..."

"No you're right," you began, feeling the rush of bravery trickling from your quickly beating heart, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You could never do that. It's just not professional--"

"It's SUPER unprofessional actually--"

"--you could lose your grant and--"

"--you JUST finalized the divorce--"

"--implicit bias and difficulty being objective--"

"--it's just a passing thought."

He pushed away from the desk, taking a step closer to you, and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

"Maybe..." he cleared his throat, "you might want to...go."

You nodded, "I should leave."

"I could walk you out."

Neither of you made another move and his fingers tapped on his thigh. You watched his eyes travel from your face and down your body, as if he could see right through your clothes.

"Are you?"

He was so close that you could count every single strand of hair in his thick, coarse beard.

"Am I...?" He questioned, eyes dropping to your lips.

"Going to walk me out?" You finished. You could see him weighing his options. He glanced at the door, then back at you.

“I…it’s—” He sighed again, “I miss you, Bee.”

You wanted to get mad and tell him that he wasn’t allowed to do this. You felt stupid for being so easily baited by a smile and sharp wit. Instead of being smart and telling him to fuck off, you shook your head.

“You miss feeling wanted,” you corrected, “You don’t miss me.”

“You don’t know how wrong that is. Do you know how many times I’ve gone out with other women and found myself thinking ‘I wonder what Bee’s doing right now. Is she with someone else? Am I making a mistake?’” He removed a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and tossed it on the desk, “I thought I was making a good choice. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.”

“A good choice for who, exactly?” You asked, eyeing him with skepticism.

“For both of us. For you.”

You could admit that hooking up with him while he was in the process of a divorce was messy. For the brief 3 months you were together over the summer, you couldn’t stop being doubtful. It blurred the lines of whether he was fucking his sadness away or if he truly had feelings for you. You felt your fingers twitch as if they wanted to reach out and grab him. Instead, you shoved your traitorous hand into your back pocket. You were petty enough to not be the first one to make a move.

“The thing is, Oscar, I’m a grown woman and I don’t need you to make decisions for me.” You countered, “I might be younger, sure, but I’m not a kid.”

“I know.” He agreed, quietly.

“You said you wanted time to process things—”

“33 Weeks,” he said, suddenly, “An arduous, sunless, painful 33 weeks without you. I never fully understood the pain of missing you until I was forced to see you and not touch you. Every time you speak or look at me or challenge me, I feel even more stupid for letting you go.”

You couldn’t help yourself, “You are stupid.”

You cracked a smile at him and he smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners behind his frames. He reached out and caressed your face, tracing a calloused thumb along your cheek and resting his forehead against yours.

“Goddamn you’re beautiful,” he groaned, slowly closing his eyes. You could trace every wrinkle, freckle, and scar with a finger from memory, if you wanted to. The spearmint gum he favored between smoke breaks tickled your nose, and his hand slipped down to the point where your throat met your clavicle.

You were keenly aware that your pulse was thrumming rapidly under his pen-calloused fingers, and that your chest rose and fell in quick succession. You closed the space between you, pulling him in for a deep kiss. The traitorous hand that freed itself from the confines of your pocket curled into his sweater. Oscar's arm snaked around your waist and the hand near your throat tightened, pulling a low, strained moan out of you. He mockingly mimicked your moan and pulled away to kiss along your jaw.

"You need to be a little quiet, Bee," he nipped at your skin and you smiled, "you don't want the others to hear, do you?"

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze, and you knew he could see the devilish glint dancing in them.

"I mean, I can try."

When you stretched out over his tidy mahogany desk and he pushed your legs apart, hiking your skirt over your ass, you couldn't help the self-satisfied grin that pulled at your lips. You wanted this for so long. You craved it. None of the toys in your nightstand could compare to the feeling of his strong hands on your thighs and the feel of his tongue teasing you open.

"Oh my god...look at you," he sighed, burying his face deep between your legs. You giggled, running your fingers through his curls to grab a handful and pulling a soft groan from his lips. Your hips twitched when he pressed a firm thumb against the front of your panties. The way his breath hitched left a deeper feeling of longing that seemed alien to you. And as he peeled the fabric to the side and spread you open to him, his free hand gripped your thigh greedily and hiked your leg up with your knee to your chest.

You felt your heart thrumming in your ears with anticipation and the major thrill of someone potentially walking in on you with his head between your legs. He wrapped his lips around you, swirling his tongue in small quick circles in that same way you loved and could never quite get used to. Your mouth fell open as the haze of ecstacy started to cloud any thoughts that weren't about him.

"I needed you." You whispered, gently scratching his scalp, "I needed you so bad."

He hummed, moaning against you and tickling your inner thighs with the soft hair of his beard. You peered down at him to watch him devour you like a starving man's first meal. He'd taken his glasses off, and you could see the way his lashes fluttered in complete bliss as he dipped his tongue into you. He looked up at you and locked eyes just as a shrill moan threatened to burst from your lips. You quickly covered your mouth and you felt him smile at you. He pulled away, replacing his mouth with his thick fingers. With each flick of the hand he watched you arch your back off his desk and scramble to grab onto something...anything to ground you.

He sharply pulled you closer to the edge of the desk and hoisted your other knee up to your chest, leaving you completely exposed to him and anyone that could walk in the room. He teased you with the tip of his tongue, watching you squirm impatiently before he curled his tongue against your clit.

He'd been dreaming of seeing you like this. But even his dreams couldn't live up to the reality of how sweet you tasted and the look of nirvana on your face. He He could hear the sharp intake of breath and the small whimpers you earnestly tried to swallow down. He wanted to tell you to be as loud as you wanted. Fuck the rules and anyone who heard. But that'd be stupid.

And you didn't deserve stupid.

He found that perfect sensitive spot that made you smack the desk with your hand and try to wriggle away from his mouth, but he pulled you closer.

"Mm-mm, no running." He mumbled nipping your thigh. He returned his lips to you, sucking you slowly between his lips. Your chest heaved, and you scrambled to figure out what to do with your hands. When you reached down to press his face harder between your thighs, he let himself release a low, muffled groan. He needed you so fucking badly. He wanted to stretch this out for as long as he could, but he knew that was impossible.

He wanted to make the most out of the limited time he had with you.

He pulled his mouth away and dipped his fingers into you, coaxing you closer to the edge. And when he leaned forward to kiss you, you pulled him in hungrily, wrapping your thighs around his hips and undoing his belt with quick fingers. He pulled away to look you over once again: your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, your eyes were glazed, and you looked fucking beautiful. You reached up to stroke his cheek.

"What?" You asked, scrunching your nose at him.

"Are you sure?"

"About?"

His hand remained splayed on your lower stomach and your fingers were hooked in the waistband of his boxers. You sat up and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours.

Oscar murmured, "Bee, if we do this, I'm not going back to keeping my distance. I'm going to fuck you in every corner of this office. I'm going to want you again," He kissed you, "and again," another kiss, "and again."

You absentmindedly brushed your fingers against his lower stomach and traced the outline of his dick through his boxers. "And on the weekends?"

You dipped your hand behind his waistband, and pulled it down to wrap your hand around him. He hissed sharply, shutting his eyes.

"Shit, honey..." he groaned. "I'm all yours."

You slowly stroked him, watching him melt under your touch. For a moment you could see the younger version of him, just as handsome but not nearly as refined as he liked to present himself in public. His salt and pepper curls were no longer neatly styled and you saw the hint of flush peeking out from under his olive skin. His perfect mouth fell open as you traced the swollen head of him with your thumb.

When you finally took a breath and felt him guide himself into you, that familiar flutter in your lower stomach made you bite your lower lip. A deep shudder wracked both of your bodies like your first hit of a long abandoned drug. He kept the pace slow and steady, focusing on the way you felt around him and trying to keep it to memory like he'd never experience it again.

You pulled him down for another deep kiss, wanting a connection with him in every way possible. You noticed the brief way his strokes faltered, and the way he grabbed your thighs to pull them around his hips to push deeper into you and at just the right angle to make you cry out.

"Right there," you pleaded, arching your hips up to angle him deeper, "God, rightthere rightthere rightthere."

He grunted, dropping his head onto your shoulder as he picked up the rhythm of his hips. "You're perfect for me. You're fucking perfect, angel. I'm never letting you go again."

You tried to form coherent thoughts and words, but everything turned to a sludge of gibberish on your tongue.

You hated the way that he seemed to know you like a familiar map. It was so easy to drown in him. When you reached down to touch yourself, he grabbed your hand and pinned it to the desk, interlacing your fingers. He dipped his free hand between you, choosing to tease your clit with his thumb while he picked up the pace of his strokes.

"Did you miss this, Bee?" He murmured under his breath.

You nodded, allowing your eyes to drift closed.

"No, baby, look at me." He commanded.

You did as you were told, looking deep into his gorgeous dark eyes that seemed to read you from the inside out.

"Did you miss me?"

"I missed this so much." you moaned, feeling the warmth building in your lower tummy.

He thrust into you sharply and a shrill cry rang out that you were sure echoed into the hallway. You nearly slammed your head into the desk with the force that your body jolted. The sensitivity was almost overwhelming and when you tried to scoot away again, he gave you another smack on the thigh.

"What did I say about running?" He let go of your hand to pull your thighs tighter around him as he drove into you with renewed vigor. His jaw clenched as he focused on your building pleasure. Thumb returned to your clit. Your mouth dropped open, but nothing came out but a strangled gasp. His thumb sped up between your thighs and you let out a string of slurred words as your hips shook.

"Fuck, I love you so much, oh God, oh God. I fucking love you."

"This is yours, now. It's all yours. Nobody else's." He breathlessly whispered against your cheek.

You reached down to grab his hand almost begging him for reprieve that you knew he wouldn't give you. You tightened around him and he sucked air sharply between his teeth, which only gave him more determination to push you over the edge. You pulled him down into a kiss just as the wave of pleasure crashed over you and you drowned your cry into his mouth. His strokes grew sloppy and erratic as you rolled your hips against him with equal force.

"Come on baby," you cooed to him, curling your fingers into his hair and giving it a sharp tug. He buried his head into your shoulder and let out a low, deep grunt as he came. You felt him press small kisses along your neck, trailing them up your chin and to your lips. After taking a minute to get his bearings, he reluctantly pulled out with a low shuddering breath. He kissed you again, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders enjoying the feeling of his hands on you.

After some brief, very gentle aftercare, you helped each other get redressed, sharing kisses and touches along the way.

"So..." he leaned up against his desk, cleaning off his glasses to put them back on, "am I seeing you tomorrow?"

You gave him a slow, deep kiss and his hands traveled to your ass, "If I'm up all night revising with your stupid edits, we'll see how I feel. No guarantees, though."

[thiswaytwoinfinity]

Emma's Epic Multi-Fandom Rec List: Oscar Isaac Edition

Work and life and everything took over for a little bit, but I am back with *part 2* of my massive fanfic recommendation list, because good lord I read so much fanfic I have a problem.

I do my best to reblog as much as possible but sometimes I miss it so this is my attempt to make up for that and give all of the amazing creators on here the credit they deserve. Thank you all so much for sharing all of your work with us. This year has been a long and difficult one for me, especially mental health wise, and being able to escape into these stories has been so valuable and important to me. 

If you read anything on here that you like, please reblog and/or comment on these pics to show the creators some love! 

AN IMPORTANT NOTE: While not everything listed here will include smut, many of these authors have 18+ blogs. Please, please, please respect their boundaries and DO NOT INTERACT WITH THEM/THEIR CONTENT IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Stories marked with ❤️‍🔥 contain NSFW content

Moon Knight: 

The Best Kept Secrets ❤️‍🔥by @melodygatesauthor — First of all, Mel is the *queen* of Oscar Isaac-fandom fic, especially anything about our beloved Moon Boys. She’s got stuff for every genre, every mood, every random plot bunny — she’s also created some of the most fun and original character.ai bots — but I have such a soft spot for this fic, a dad’s best friend fic where each chapter is a different member of the system. 

A Bit Dodgy ❤️‍🔥by @melodygatesauthor — another brilliant one from Melody, featuring professor! Steven falling in love with a student, Jake being protective (and hot) and Marc learning to let down his walls around people. I will genuinely be a little sad when it’s all wrapped up because I’ve loved this journey. 

Cherry Pie ❤️‍🔥by @whatthefishh and @melodygatesauthor — I’m trying not to just rec people’s entire masterlists but these two make it SO DIFFICULT. Anyway, as someone with a soft spot for Steven (is it obvious yet?) this is a particularly steamy and surprisingly sweet fic about his first time. It’s written in such a brilliant way that you can just picture all of the desperate, delicious faces that Steven is making throughout and it’s just … it’s a 10/10 y’all. 

Spoiled Rotten by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction — MARC. MARC MY BEAUTIFUL, EMOTIONALLY GUARDED BELOVED I love when Marc gets to be soft and this was such a beautifully written, real-feeling story about his relationship insecurities and his desire to be treated like the precious gift he is. If the universe could just give me one chance to spoil this beautiful man … 

Personal Time ❤️‍🔥by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction — Look, we have already established my love for Steven Grant. I want to hug him and kiss him and let him tell me about Egyptian gods and eat vegan burritos with him and cuddle him all night. But this story? This story makes me also want to ruin him. 

The Moon Boys + Where They Like to Put It ❤️‍🔥by @ivystoryweaver — These little blurbs are pure filth and I would like them tattooed on my eyelids so that I can forever be haunted by them. There is a surprising amount of characterization packed into such a short package and that takes an incredible amount of talent. 

On My Knees ❤️‍🔥by @ivystoryweaver — Look. If Steven Grant came to me, begging on his knees (literally!) for his job back, I too would fold immediately. This two-parter is also great because the first story is pure fluff (and pining for Steven, which, i can relate) and the second brings all of the tension and anticipation to a head with some genuinely smoking hot smut. I’d also like to give a shoutout to Ivy’s Oblivious Roommate Headcanons Series, which is honestly making my obsession with everyone’s favorite gift shoppist a little worse in the best way. 

driver!jake and rich girl!reader ❤️‍🔥by @campingwiththecharmings — THIS FIC. I love the slow building tension, the gorgeous image of Jake smoking outside his limo during a night out, the SMUT. It made my brain melt in the best way, possible. 

Lessons in Touch by @marc-spectorr— Ugh, the PINING. There’s only one part to this so far and I am already so obsessed with it that I’m recommending it. I cannot wait to see where this one goes because I just am already so in love with this Steven and their relationship. 

With The Lights Out ❤️‍🔥by @moonknightly — Jake is, understandably, often characterized as the sexy, seductive one in the system so it’s such a treat to read a virgin!Jake fic. This one is so lovely, a perfect mix of vulnerable and steamy while still feeling so true to him. Basically, I love when Jake gets flustered and I need more of it. 

Friendly favors ❤️‍🔥by @runa-falls — (Not so) unrequited pining between Steven and his best friend and the ways they begin to reveal their feelings for one another by … “helping each other out” with their “needs.” Steamy and sweet in equal measure and it just makes me want to scream in the best possible way. 

Making Trouble ❤️‍🔥by @juneknight — Possessive!Marc owns me, completely. This and its sequel (where Jake gets his revenge) are two of the hottest, most wonderful smut fics that I have read in this fandom and good lord, it breaks my brain every single time I read it. juneknight is also the creator of the mind-meltingly sexy Dorm Room Marc series which is also *chef’s kiss* 

Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Verse) 

Halo ❤️‍🔥by @missdictatorme — One of the most interesting Miguel concepts I’ve ever read: Reader is Miguel’s new AI assistant (complete with hologram body) and you ask for the chance to design your own appearance. The slow build of the relationship between the pair is so fun to read and the tension between them as Miguel realizes that their relationship with one another is … unorthodox is amazing. I think about this story all the time. 

Something New ❤️‍🔥by @runa-falls — Hoooooo boy. I recommend you read this one in front of a fan or the AC because good lord this is hot. 

Decadent ❤️‍🔥by @ivystoryweaver — This one has it all: gorgeously steamy smut, the tension of a slow-burn relationship build, a hint of angst and a mystery at the center of it all: is Miguel a vampire? Or something else? Can he be cured? It’s so good and I honestly give a little squeal every time I see there’s a new chapter out. 

Punch-Out Love by @astroboots— Miguel O’Hara boxing AU? Hell yeah. This one is exciting and tense and thrilling and I was invested from the first sentence. Cici also co-wrote the iconic Every You, Every Me, which I am ashamed to say that I only just started reading but it is just as incredible as everyone said. Her stuff more than lives up to all of the hype. 

Monster ❤️‍🔥by @writefightandflightclub — Oh, you thought you’d make it through a Miguel O’Hara rec list without some size kink? This is insanely hot and a little dark and so, so good. Heed the warnings, but if this is your thing, trust me, it will sit in your brain forever. 

Assorted Oscar Characters 

Bloom For Me (Santiago Garcia) ❤️‍🔥by @whatthefishh — The Triple Frontier Regency AU that you didn’t know you needed. Trust me on this. 

Oxford Comma (Rydal Keener) ❤️‍🔥by @whatthefishh — *The* definitive Rydal fic, in my opinion. There is something about the way that Mona writes Rydal that makes him so irresistible, so charming and easy to fall for despite how much you want to resist (or maybe punch) him that I think captures the essence of the character so well. 

How (Nathan Bateman) ❤️‍🔥by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction — Set post-Ex Machina, this lovely (and steamy) fic delves into how Nathan deals with the aftermath of the situation with Ava as well as him learning to let another person (not an android!) into his life. It’s my favorite take on a softer version of Nathan and I just adore it. (Also for more amazing Oscar-character content, Fen’s Kinktober masterlist is *chef’s kiss)

Three Years (Nathan Bateman) ❤️‍🔥by @youvebeenlivingfictional — My favorite Nathan fic, ever. The tension between him and the reader, the underlying questions about whether their whole relationship and dynamic is the result of genuine feelings on his end or just him manipulating people, the added angst of Reader’s dynamic with their friend and *her* crush on Nathan — it’s just so good. 

Somebody to Love (Richard Alonzo Munoz) ❤️‍🔥by @writefightandflightclub — Not just one of my all-time favorite Oscar Isaac fics, but one of my all-time favorite fics period. As I have previously gushed, this is a gorgeous, romantic, slow-build of a story written with such stunning imagery and poetry and with little nods to an already-familiar relationship that just makes their ultimate relationship even more swoon-worthy and perfect. And the smut is 10/10, five stars, completely mind-melting in all of the best ways. I love it, I love it, I love it. 

[marcmarcmomarc]

The Owl House: The New Year’s Special

Sarah-Nicole Robles

Wendie Malick

Alex Hirsch

Mae Whitman

Tati Gabrielle

Issac Ryan Brown

Zeno Robinson

Elizabeth Grullon

Cissy Jones

Avi Roque

Keston John

Matt Chapman

Michaela Dietz

Grey DeLisle

Erica Lindbeck

Ryan O’Flanagan

Kimberly Brooks

Ally Maki

Kari Wahlgren

Cast:

Dee Bradley Baker as Princess

Eric Bauza as Gilbert Park & Faust

Bob Bergen as Barcus

J.B. Blanc as Professor Hermonculous

Steve Blum as Salty

Issac Ryan Brown as Gus Porter

Kimberly Brooks as Skara & Eileen

Bruce Carey as Mason

Matt Chapman as Steve Tholomule & Harvey Park

Parvesh Cheena as Tibblet-Tibblie Grimm Hammer III “Tibbles”

Wilson Cruz as Manny Noceda

Noshir Dalal as Adrian Graye Vernworth

Felicia Day as Bria

Ariana DeBose as Tía Valentina Noceda

Elijah DeJesus as Prima Gabi Noceda

Grey DeLisle as Masha, Katya, Cat, Usurper, & Bonesborough Brawl Security Guard

Jorge Diaz as Matt Tholomule

Michaela Dietz as Vee Noceda

Nik Dodani as Gavin

Deb Doetzer as Gwendolyn Clawthorne

Jason Douglas as Osran

Tati Gabrielle as Willow Park

Eileen Galindo as Flora D’splora

Peter Gallagher as Dell Clawthorne

Noah Galvin as Jerbo

Kimiko Glenn as Long-Haired Bat Kid

Elizabeth Grullon as Camila Noceda

Harvey Guillén as Angmar

Arin Hanson as Eye-Eating Monster, Snaggleback, & Papa Titan

Alex Hirsch as King Clawthorne & Hooty

Holly @hollowtones as Mohawk Bat Kid

Chris Houghton as Bill

Oscar Isaac as Tío Emilio Noceda

Keston John as Darius Deamonne

Cissy Jones as Lilith Clawthorne

Mela Lee as Kikimora

Jason Liebrecht as Vitimir

Erica Lindbeck as Emira Blight

Kevin Locarro as Braxas

Rachael MacFarlane as Odalia Blight

Ally Maki as Viney

Wendie Malick as Eda Clawthorne

Shannon McKain as Morton

Mosco Moon as Olive (Gabi’s Girlfriend)

Rita Moreno as Abuela Luna Noceda

Ryan O’Flanagan as Edric Blight

Johnny Ortiz as Tío Mateo Noceda

Penny @snapscube Parker as Bucket Hat Bat Kid

Jim Pirri as Alador Blight

Anairis Quiñones as Azura

Matthew Rhys as Philip Wittebane/Emperor Belos

Kevin Michael Richardson as Tarak, Bonesborough Brawl Commentator, & Tom

Eden Riegel as Boscha, Amelia, Bo, & Abominations

Bumper Robinson as Hieronymus Bump

Zeno Robinson as Hunter, Derwin, & Male Camp Friend

Sarah-Nicole Robles as Luz Noceda

Avi Roque as Raine Whispers

Isabella Rosselini as Bat Queen

Roger Craig Smith as Jacob Hopkins & Warden Wrath

Hailee Steinfeld as Female Camp Friend

April Stewart as Greater Basilisk

Christopher Swindle as Graveyard Keeper

Fred Tatasciore as Malphas

Jen Taylor as Hettie Cutburn

Dana Terrace as Tinella Nosa & Severine

Morgan Terry as Hecate & Harper (Gabi’s Other Girlfriend)

Kari Wahlgren as Amber, Eberwolf, Villainous Lucy, & Barista

Mae Whitman as Amity Blight

Gary Anthony Williams as Perry Porter

Debra Wilson as Terra Snapdragon

Fryda Wolff as The Collector

[imninahchan]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⌜ ⠀⠀ h e a d c a n o n s 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🐇 ／ ⋆ ۪

⠀⠀

───── 「 ✦ BILL SKARGARD ✦ 」

+ m e a n d o m ♥︎ seu namoradinho

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

───── 「 ✦ MADS MIKKELSEN ✦ 」

+ cenário ♥︎ seu professor

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

───── 「 ✦ WAGNER MOURA ✦ 」

+ cenário

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

───── 「 ✦ PEDRO PASCAL ✦ 」

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀[ꗃ₊˚⊹ ᰔ]

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

───── 「 ✦ OSCAR ISAAC ✦ 」

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀[ꗃ₊˚⊹ ᰔ]

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

───── 「 ✦ CILLIAN MURPHY ✦ 」

+ cenário

[mast3rofnonee]

Info abt me!!

Black, fem, 17,sfl

Fav color(s): black, plum purple, sage green, crimson red, pink, and blue !!

Fav lana song: Freak (i had a mental breakdown trying to choose)

clothing style: everything/ basically anything depending on my mood

Fav clothing item: my black converse!!

Celebrity crush: Pedro pascal, Mads Mikkelsen, Oscar Isaac, Anya Taylor-joy, Florence Pugh, Zendaya, Gillian Anderson, Josh O'Connor. (sm more trust me)

Icons: LANA, Kurt Cobain, Fiona apple,Sylvia Plath, Audrey Hepburn (mind is blank)

Dream job: Psychiatrist, forensic scientist. (college professor)

[blindspct]

WHO: arthur hernandez. bisexual. english professor. oscar isaac fc. OPEN TO: anyone 21+ PLOT: arthur wasn't getting the attention he wanted from his wife and so, he hooked up with your muse (student, teachers aide, coworker) in attempt to make himself feel better and your muse cares about him way more than arthur cares about them.

the last thing that arthur expected was a late night ring of his doorbell and he had absolutely no idea who it could be since his wife was out of town due to the holidays. his curiosity managed to get the best of him though and he padded downstairs in his lounge clothes before swinging open the front door and revealing the very person he'd been trying to avoid. "i told you," he sighed, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "you can't just show up here. someone could see you. are you insane?"

[soft-persephone]

Ex-Machina Review

!!!Spoilers!!!

Nathan Bateman, is a fucking asshole.

I love it.

There’s a lot of “theories” about this movie, but I have my own interpretation.

Narcissism and God complex aside, yeah he has those things, but Caleb is a driving point for how we see him.

I do not think Caleb is a robot or AI.

But he was losing his mind in the end.

Nathan may be an arrogant asshole, but he wasn’t wrong or lying to Caleb about AVA. Like he might have lied about the experiment, but for that to work he would need someone gullible and perhaps with no family, because let’s be honest, if the test worked, Caleb was not going home 😭 (homeboy was going to end up like the people who installed the generator)

Ava had Caleb eating out the palm of her hand. He fell in love her and she just wanted to leave.

Nathan is the only man smart enough (from what the movie tells us) to make this cutting edge AI, but no matter how many prototypes he builds, at some point they are going to feel like they are being held captive if they gain a conscience.

He can’t let that shit out in the world until they chill first and accept that they are an AI and can’t have normal life until xyz.

Either way, the end result of “what next” if they passed his test is going to be fucked up no matter what.

That robot feels like a person and can’t have a or al life and they are obviously going to want one.

So in my opinion, the movie sets up Nathan as a fucked up god figure held captive not by his intellect but also his creation.

He had to baby sit these fucking robots and hope one day they won’t try to escape him or worse (how the movie ended).

He obviously isn’t a god, but asshole rich geniuses tend to be arrogant and self absorbed in some way. Like, yes, you are a super genius and no one can do what you do, but let’s cool it with the God comparisons.

The movie only ended with his death because Ava turned Caleb against him.

I think he knew that was going to be the end result.

“Caleb wanting to help Ava.”

But he didn’t plan on Caleb losing his fucking mind. Because that’s what turned everything to shit.

But now let’s talk visual language, and meta shit.(my favorite🥰)

Domhall Gleason is obviously taller than Oscar Isaac, but this movie put a lot of emphasis on it.

On top of that, Nathan works out a lot.

Caleb is taller and he’s also pretty smart. But he’s also a gullible dumbass. That’s what feeds into the evil narcissist narrative to get us to think Nathan is the “villain” befor the big twist.

But CLeb just keeps feeding into it. He calls him a hod and kept doing stupid shit for Nathan to correct him.

Nathen isn’t suspicious, Caleb was just suspicious of Nathan.

I also think Nathan is the type of man where being smart isn’t enough. Taking, care of his body as well as being smart, makes him more “superior.” It feeds into his god complex as much as his intellect.

He also likes to subvert expectations of super smart scientist.

He’s not some frail absentminded professor in a lab coat.

He’s a weightlifting, dance loving, dude that likes to kick back with a few drinks. He likes to talk the shit and have a good time.

But also he lived alone for many years with an AI robot to fuck from time to time and sometimes dance with.

Good chance his workouts and hikes are for his mental health.

Nathan is an asshole, but he’s not a villain.

At the end of the day he’s making and testing something.

He killed those generator guys, and I think at the end of it all, he was going to kill Caleb too. NDA or not.

He chose a kid with no friends or family for a reason.

He’s making a product that needs getting and manipulated someone for the best results.

He likes to be In control of everything and aware of every possible outcome.

While the lying might have been wrong, it is the best way to test his AI. Like it makes sense not in a crazy way.

I think Nathan is more callous/sinister than evil or cruel.

I think Caleb was buying into Ava so much, and since the movie is from his perspective, it can convince the audience he is a villain of sorts.

Thank you for making it to the end of you did. I hope you enjoy my word vomit of the movie I enjoyed!