#good luck with your PhD!

[enlitment]

First of all kudos for mentioning Palestine at the end of your speech! And congratulations on the excellent analysis.

Not that my opinion is super relevant there if you're getting/approaching your PhD, but for what is worth, I've also always thought that Przybyszewska must have identified with Robespierre to an extent.

The loneliness, alienation and their overall worldview definitely tracks. I've always thought that she saw him as – in a sense – a grossly misunderstood genius, and perhaps that is partly how she related to herself as well. His obsession with what they see as their lives' mission, his neglect of their basic human needs because of it, it's all there in the text and may easily be applied to Przybyszewska herself.

(And — this may sound dumb — but it also reminded me of the recent Contrapoints video, in which she talks about how women consume media. She brings up this interesting idea that when women see male characters as an object of affection they also partially identify with that character themselves, at the same time. I know Robespierre is obviously a historical figure but I'd argue that especially with historical fiction, the lines can become blurry, so what is true for a literary character may be applied to a historical figure as well in this context.

It's been a while since I've seen the video so I'm probably not explaining her point very well but it's something I thought I saw in TDC. I'd say that Przybyszewska could be, to an extent, identifying herself with both Eléonore (as Maximilien's fervent admirer) and with Robespierre, the lonely self-sacrificing genius, himself.

The following text was presented in Polish, under the title „Mortal deities of hidden thrones. Maximilien Robespierre in Thermidor as Stanisława Przybyszewska’s alter ego” during a comparative literature conference in May his year. My idea of in what part my PhD will be about her, and what I can and cannot publish before is still taking shape, but I really wanted to put this out here.

Stanisława Przybyszewska is remembered in the collective consciousness primarily as the author of „The Danton Case”, and secondly - as a lonely, unhappy person, living in isolation and enduring miserable living conditions of her own free will (in some sense even at her own behest). Thanks to this way of looking at her, it’s easy to classify her in the studies focusing on her, in various, constantly recurring orders, and everything that is less obvious than these two facts can be omitted equally easily. Since she is known mainly as the author of „The Danton Case”, naturally her second great drama, „Thermidor”, is being pushed to the side. And it is precisely here that her biography is reflected in the character of Robespierre, her idol and deity. When I talk about being reflected, I mean, of course, the construction of Robespierre as a person in a drama is done according to the same pattern that Przybyszewska's life in Gdańsk has followed.

What pattern was it? First of all, we are talking about an existence that is not only lonely, but also aggressively hermit-like. Przybyszewska is not only stubbornly stuck in Gdańsk, with which she had nothing in common with and which she didn’t even like, but she also rejected help from her family and the few friends; loneliness of this kind naturally involves a certain attitude towards the world and a certain view of the world. Here I would like to focus on the facts extracted from her biography, and only those that can be recorded in a somewhat visual way, because only this type of simple, inalienable information is the one that could have found a place in her drama.

The most important facts from Przybyszewska’s life: - Loneliness - Hatred - Hierarchical view [of the world/reality]

The first fact is loneliness, understood both in the physical and mental sense. The second was her hatred of people, which was not (most likely) a result of a flaw of character (unless we consider her severity to be a flaw), but rather of a complete misunderstanding that she met with at every step. In her opinion, this misunderstanding had a simple cause – it was her own genius, which she sensed and which she tried to develop in her creative work. The third fact is the specificity of her view of the world, based on a hierarchical view.

Facts from Robespierre’s life: [obviously I am talking only about his literary counterpart, and only in Thermidor] - Loneliness - Hatred - Being conscious of his existence within a certain hierarchy

Przybyszewska smuggles these three undeniable and simple facts into „Thermidor” as features defining one of the characters, Maximilien Robespierre. He also exists in seclusion - although he is undeniably the most important character in the play, he is not only absent throughout Act I, but he only exists when his absence is being talked about.

„And here we can refer to the geobiography, because Przybyszewska places her hero in conditions close to her own living situation: her Robespierre lives in a «Parisian cubicle resembling a kennel» and washes himself with icy water. [...] Robespierre's cold Parisian cubicle corresponds to the short description of a room in a barrack, made by Przybyszewska between 1927 and 1928 in a letter to her cousin, Adam Barliński: «a crumbling ice house, deprived even of running water»” (Marcin Czerwiński, „Uskok”) -> LONELINESS

Using historical knowledge, Przybyszewska places Robespierre's apartment in a lonely room in the house of a friendly family - but drawing from her own life, she definitely enhances the „vibe” of his place of residence in such a way that it corresponds as closely as possible to her own living conditions. This is not supported by historical evidence, because it is known that in the Duplay family, Robespierre occupied two comfortable and normally furnished rooms, the standard of which did not differ from the standards in 18th-century Paris.

„The present study, however, argues that in fact she takes a Gnostic view of history as an eternal opposition between matter and spirit, and that this dualism saturates the utopian project she undertook both in her art and in her life.” (Kazimiera Ingdahl, „A Gnostic Tragedy”) -> ASCETISIM

However, for Przybyszewska, deprived not only of the luxuries of everyday life, but also of even a semblance of normalcy, it seemed unthinkable to grant the person she depicted in her works - in „Thermidor” more than anywhere else - the very luxuries that she herself was deprived of, and which she didn't even miss that much. Przybyszewska loved Robespierre and considered him to be the highest being, which, due to her Gnostic view of the world, was combined with her love of asceticism. Asceticism, the rejection of the material world, is one of those practices that allow us to rise higher on the mental plane, so it was, according to her (and certainly: according to her Robespierre) indispensable of.

The second point of contact between the writer and the character is hatred. The topic as such appears frequently in her prose, but in her dramas it appears only in these two lesser-known ones; as if she couldn't write about hatred in a more „domesticated” way. Przybyszewska rewrote each scene in „The Danton Case” at least 4 times, usually 10 – „Thermidor”, however, is a play written first and not even completely finished, so there are a few stylistically jarring places in it. From the point of view of this essay, the most important thing at this point seems to be the description of hatred from the mouth of Robespierre himself.

„In fact: I literally had a fever while writing. Everything is boiling inside of me. I cannot give you any idea of how much I suffer terribly with this absolutely powerless rage in the face of stupidity. When I first read this article, I regularly felt physically sick: I couldn't eat for hours. Besides, the blood rushed to my head so much that I was careless by putting it under the tap. Such bodily symptoms never reach the level of rage in me because of my own affairs.” (Stanisława Przybyszewska, „Letters”) -> HATRED

This corresponds with Przybyszewska’s views;  she spent her adult life without finding understanding or friendship among people (or at least friendship on her, harsh and inaccessible, terms), and so she felt hatred on a similarly physical level; even if she admitted that she didn't feel that way for personal reasons.

The same can be said about Robespierre, who hates not a single man, but what a man aspires to. There are more mentions of hatred in Przybyszewska's rich epistolography, and in the creation of Robespierre as a literary character in „Thermidor”, „The Danton Case” and „The Last Nights of Ventoese”, in fact, there are more - in this essay I only want to highlight this similarity as something more than similarity, as pouring of the writer's personal experience into the „personal experience” of the character.

„When you read and interpret [Przybyszewska's] correspondence, dramas and prose, after some time you begin to notice the constant presence of evaluations - of the world, people, their behaviors and achievements - with a dominant black, negative tone. Przybyszewska must always know and say precisely whether a person and a work are great and outstanding, or small and unsuccessful; whether she is dealing with the first or fourth „level” of creators. (Ewa Graczyk, „Ćma”) -> HIERARCHICAL VIEW

The third similarity is what Ewa Graczyk has called the „hierarchical view” and there can be no doubt that Przybyszewska - by adoring Robespierre, admiring him, idealizing him in her plays - transmits this trait of hers onto him not so much consciously, but because the hierarchical nature of her gaze is an inherent part of her as a person and she is unable to create a universum which would operate according to rules other than those she herself had adhered to. And hierarchization is closely related to hatred.

„During the winter, I suffered from a fear - as incredible as it was downright unpleasant - that I had come too far for my years. While last year with every page I wrote, bad and clumsy as they were, revealed to me the beginning of some line of development, thus marking all the directions of the path destined for me, which I immediately tried to follow - now this comfortable feeling of apprenticeship, of beginning, suddenly left me. I have not abandoned my path, the only one that suits my personality and that I have recognized from my mistakes. But the anticipated goal was achieved. Already. It terrified me. I thought I had gone all the way around in one year. There was nothing left for me to do but die.” (Stanisława Przybyszewska, „Letters”)

Robespierre, placed in a situation undoubtedly much easier to bear than Przybyszewska was, does not share with her similar dilemmas. Why? Because Przybyszewska all her life was afraid that she was not good enough - or maybe she was not so much „afraid” as she was convinced that she had not yet reached the peak of her abilities. Robespierre, on the other hand, although from time to time he may experience dilemmas related to not knowing whether he sees and assesses the situation correctly, knows for sure that although he may not be the greatest, at the same time, there is no one greater than him. Therefore, Przybyszewska's fear and uncertainty are not foreign to him; altough the same cannot be said about her irritation and anger, and not her appraising, mathematical view of other people.

It is clear that Przybyszewska poured her life experience into Robespierre; she probably did not have many other opportunities to narrate any literary work - in all her works not only the same themes or types of people are repeated, but also the same solutions and considerations. This results from her own character, but also from one more thing, closely related to the hierarchical view: her isolation took place at the ground level. This is both in its metaphorical and literal meaning: Przybyszewska lived in her barrack, rented to her out of pity, separated from others only by too thin walls, and nothing else. What is missing in her life is the introduction of some distance that would allow her to consider her situation as something other than - depending on her mood - a deep misfortune or a forced, but at least temporary, stop on the way to somewhere greater. It is a position on the same level as everyone else, or even worse than that: it is a position among people whom she considered lower than herself, but for which she had no evidence.

„During the winter, I suffered from a fear - as incredible as it was downright unpleasant - that I had come too far for my years. While last year with every page I wrote, bad and clumsy as they were, revealed to me the beginning of some line of development, thus marking all the directions of the path destined for me, which I immediately tried to follow - now this comfortable feeling of apprenticeship, of beginning, suddenly left me. I have not abandoned my path, the only one that suits my personality and that I have recognized from my mistakes. But the anticipated goal was achieved. Already. It terrified me. I thought I had gone all the way around in one year. There was nothing left for me to do but die.” (Stanisława Przybyszewska, „Letters”) -> GEOMETRY OF EXISTENCE

At this point, it is worth returning to this fragment and taking a closer look at the underlined fragments. Przybyszewska thinks about her life using vocabulary related to geometry (she briefly tried to study mathematics in her youth). However, this geometry is flat, located on one plane - a line, a circle, a designated direction. She has no space to breathe. And this is not only due to the forced pause in creative work, but also – more of an everyday problem - because of her room:

„My current apartment measures 2.25 x 4.60 metres. Measure it and you will see what it means. On top of that, there's a window – half a size of a normal one.” (Stanisława Przybyszewska, „Letters”) -> GEOMETRY OF EXISTECE

There is little space, then, in any sense of the word, and she can only spread her wings through Robespierre, whom she admires but whom she secretly would also like to be: his room, at least, is upstairs. I say this sentence a bit ironically (although it is true), just to emphasize that he actually had more space. And when he left, after he disappeared from the political scene for some time (as it is the situation at the beginning of „Thermidor”), he moved away from people in more than one dimension.

And this simultaneous elevation to heights, even if only heights of a second floor, and remoteness from people in every other possible respect, is what pushes Robespierre's opponents to understand him in terms of divinity. There is not much in it of praise, more of a statement of fact that must be accepted before it can be refuted. So what is Robespierre's divinity in Thermidor?

First of all, it is his inherent feature, the lens through which others must look at him. It's not just those who know him personally and work with him - it's about France in general. But the point is not to list all the moments in which one of the characters recognizes Robespierre as a god - let's consider it as a fact, just as they recognize it, and let's get over it to ask ourselves: what does this mean?

The main meaning is panic. Przybyszewska, through Robespierre, at least partially fulfills the dream of achieving success and the associated with it strong reactions of the world to the presence of such a successful person. Fear in this case is the highest form of flattery, except perhaps sincere (really sincere) devotion. This fear is both an expression of hateful admiration and a driving force behind the characters' actions. It results from a reluctant but unwavering faith in the divinity of their opponent and it is transformed into taking action, into an attempt (as history shows and as Przybyszewska would have shown in the play if she had completed it: a successful attempt) to overthrow the one who is a god, but not a guardian. Whoever keeps his divinity locked inside himself cannot get rid of it, but he does not make it a gift to others, but rather a curse to himself.

-> MORTALITY OF A DEITY

Because Robespierre is a mortal god. Przybyszewska created thorugh him something like a parody of Christ: a man-god in whom each nature is equally weak and each loses. Since each of them loses, then, unlike Christ, each of them dies. He actually „is burning in the blast furnance of his spirit” - because he makes decisions that bring about his own destruction. This is similar to the situation of Przybyszewska, who – so it would seem - did everything in her power to alienate the people on whose financial support she depended; who stubbornly stayed in Gdańsk instead of moving to one of the cities where she could receive more help from her family; who refused to undergo addiction treatment even under the threat of losing her government stipend. Her own non-humanity is inscribed in her through pride, to which she openly admitted and called „satanic” – she is linked with mortality in the same way.

In Robespierre, humanity and divinity combine in an unusual way: he worships himself, he’s convinced of his extraordinary power, and every matter he undertakes confirms this belief. But what is a monstrance if not a kind of visible concealment? What is the meaning of his long, six-week stay outside the French political scene at a time when he is needed there the most?

In her book „FORMS: Whole, Rhythm, Hierarchy and Network”, Caroline Levine proposes the introduction of the term „affordance”. An affordance is an action that is hidden in a given object or concept; an action forced, as it were, by a form that is itself a kind of oppression. In „Thermidor”, the form that has the greatest importance for the plot is an enclosed space. On the one hand, we are talking about the meeting room of the Committee of Public Safety (Przybyszewska preserved the unity of the place in the drama), and on the other - about Robespierre's apartment, which is only briefly mentioned.

-> AFFORDANCE OF HIDING

His withdrawal and his absence create anxiety among his opponents. The fear mentioned earlier is related to how the other revolutionaries feel about Robespierre as a person - but there is more to it than that. His absence, which does not prevent him from having a perfect understanding of the political situation at that time, has something uncanny about it. He himself puts it best: “There is something uncanny about this business. It is as if one discovered venomous teeth in a paper snake, or a hangman's rope in a young girl's sewing case [...]”. There is a reason why these comparisons make us feel uncomfortable: they violate the natural affordances of the cases mentioned, since paper should not be venomous and a sewing case should not contain a hangman’s rope. A room in a family home should not in any way resemble a place where a dangerous animal lurks [in the Polish version Robespierre is being likened to a spider] - and yet Robespierre evokes this type of association in others, probably without being fully aware of it himself.

„I remember that I saw her several times in the morning hours, walking from her apartment (in the barracks) through the courtyard of the Gimnazjum Polskie, sideways and stealthily, so much so that it was difficult to see her face.” (Ewa Graczyk, „Ćma”) -> COMING DOWN TO EARTH

His throne – his altar – is hidden, therefore it’s deprived of contact with the earth and its inhabitants. When, after a few weeks of absence, he decides to come down, he causes not only panic, but also simple surprise. This is not far from the personal experience of Przybyszewska, who at some point began to avoid going outside, and when circumstances forced her to do so, her appearance caused quite a surprise among onlookers - and (just like Robespierre) she was at odds with people both on „the sidewalk plane”, and on the mental plane.

-> FALLING DOWN ONTO EARTH

However, the mere physical descent to earth does not mean that Robespierre has left the spiritual and mental heights on which he dwells as a deity. Saint-Just's warning is not just mere words, but an expression of concern about the entire situation that Robespierre has just unfolded before his eyes - a situation that is almost impossible to solve and poses a real threat to the „paradise on earth” for Robespierre is the Republic. Falling from a height is also a threat to the spirit and a reference to the fall of Satan.

-> A LITERAL FALL

It is also simply a signal of the beginning of defeat. The affordance of the closed room was violated, so by getting rid of his loneliness and separation, Robespierre also deprived himself of their positive aspects. The mortal god descended to earth, thereby shedding the protective layer provided by the distance between himself and others, between his plan and the reality in which he lived - and his opponents, whether in human form or in the form of a natural course things, they immediately took advantage of the situation. And here we can find a reference to the situation of Przybyszewska, who at some point started to avoid seeing her friends from Gdańsk – a married couple Stefania and Jan Augustyńscy - because Stefania was, in Przybyszewska's opinion, too perceptive and did not fall for the artificial distance put between them through the words of „Everything is fine”. Thus, the writer trapped herself in the form and allowed it to turn into a prison. This kind of action somehow justified her and took away the responsibility for improving her life.

(Caroline Levin,e „FORMS: Whole,Rhythm, Hierarchy, Network) -> AFFORDANCE OF ISOLATION

Any form is a type of oppression. By imposing its order, it also forces the way of seeing and thinking. Robespierre's paranoia did not appear out of nowhere - it is the result of isolation (the only person who acts as a link and a buffer between the closed form of Robespierre’s private room and the closed form of the meeting room is Saint-Just - and Saint-Just has been struggling with the war on the Northern front for several weeks). It is no different with Przybyszewska herself, whose attitude towards the world was largely dependent on her financial conditions, which she did not try to improve: "Since [Staśka] is not crushed by the grey of everyday and by the struggle for a piece of bread, the general hatred towards people and constant fear of them ceased” wrote her husband in a letter to Helena Barlińska.

-> THE DUAL NATURE OF AFFORDANCE

When it comes to affordance, there is one more detail we need to pay attention to. The physical form - in this case, a room - influences the spiritual form, but it also works the other way around. Robespierre's paranoia is therefore a factor whose affordances (e.g. haste, keeping a secret, high treason) have a real, negative impact on the Republic in general and his life in particular. Acting under the influence of the conditions he himself has created, he finds himself on the road to making more and more mistakes, making the situation worse, and driving himself into a dead end. The fact that he does not seem to take this possibility into account points once again to his divinity and the pride that comes with it.

-> THE AFFORDANCE OF ROBESPIERRE

From the depths - and heights - of his tabernacle, Robespierre commands the situation. He exerts an absolute influence, which at the same time is based on nothing more than his person. Therefore, it is his personal affordance, the effect not of a specific action, but rather the result of his presence in the world, the resultant of all his features. This is where he differs from Przybyszewska, who dreamed of having such an influence on the masses, or at least on a group of people. Thus, this confirms the thesis about constructing Robespierre in „Thermidor” as her alter ego - similar enough to be confused with her, but better and more powerful.

I would like to end here and take advantage of the opportunity to mention that after 216 days of genocide in Gaza, as of the day I have delivered this essay, there is no university left there. We have the right and opportunity to promote science, and therefore we also have an ethical obligation to stand on the side of the victims of genocide, who were deprived of this right and opportunity. I hope that in our lifetime we will see a free, independent Palestine.

[atissi]

this is a joke. i hated business school.

(conversation with @thesweetestclementine)

[makoodles]

As a bio PhD student, I don't know what I think is hotter: sitting on Quaritch's face or finishing a dissertation in only three years lmao.

Either way, I loved part two so much!! It was amazing!

HAHAHAHAHAHA i do love exploring fantasy through fiction 😘♥️🥰

thank you so muchhhh my love!!!

[cootcutebatkat]

Off good to draw cause you can be messy

Be messy

Be eepy

Be free

Same with Bill posession

Make your bill puppets gangly as possible. Show me dem gums. Gimme a biggggg ol smile. A BEEG smile. A HYUUUUUGEEEEE smile. wwwwwWWIDE eyes. ENLARGE. All the insanity and none of the humanity! All the energy but none of heartbeats!!

All the kinetic flows but none of the warmth! COLD FIRE BURNING!! THE EMBODIMENT OF DRY ICE!! NO FEAR OF DEATH BUT CHILDISH CURIOUSITY. THIS BODY IS NOTHING MORE THAN A PUPPET. HE WILL NOT CARE. HE DOES NOT BOW TO TEMPORARY BEAUTY STANDARDS. YOUR COMFORT IS HIS TOOL FOR DOMINATION. IF NOT, THEN IT IS IRRELEVANT.

FUCK ME I SHOULD BE ASLEEP BUT IM TOO BUSY THINKING ABOUT HOW TO DRAW BILL POSSESSION EVEN EEPIER!!!!!

[reidrum]

all yours if you want me | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

a/n: i think i really like this but if i proofread it one more time im gonna hate it so im just putting it out now lol. this is the full version of the sneak peak i posted last week woohoo ! also this is my first time writing smut so im sorry if it sucks but i hope y'all like it <3

summary: bau's got their first day off in weeks, and you're heading straight to the club to have some fun, you just didn't expect your coworker/crush to also be there while you're trying to forget him.

cw: 18+ minors pls dni, smut, p in v (dont be silly wrap ur willy), munch!spence, lowkey softdom!spence, suggestive dancing in public spaces, minor insecure reader, reader is afab and wears a dress and heels

wc: 4.6k

pls let me know if i forgot anything and let me know your thoughts pleaseee xx

it was the first friday night off you and any of the team members of the bau had in a long time, and you all were determined to spend it well. jj and hotch immediately went home to their families, penelope and emily decided they were going home to get some well needed rest, rossi went to a cigar club, not really sure what derek and spencer ended up doing, but you knew what you were doing tonight.

you’d had a long standing invitation from one of your college friends for a club night, and at first you’d decline because you’d get swept away on a case, and because you were hopelessly pining after your hot nerdy coworker dr. spencer reid.

spencer was smart in many ways, three PhDs, countless published papers, not to mention that eidetic memory of his. there was one thing that spencer was just fucking dumb at, and it was your shameless flirting at him.

like it annoyed you how clueless he was. you’d bring him coffee in the mornings with hearts drawn on it, fall asleep on his shoulder on the jet rides back, even complimenting his outfit or looks which made him flustered, but still nothing. your harbored crush seemed to stay just that, a crush. and while you’d hope he would get the hint he just hasn’t.

so you pull out your phone to text your friend. 

“barry’s at 9?”

“oh my god FINALLY. i’m there i'll pick you up at 8:30.”

you grin to yourself, this was good. you needed to get out and unwind for once.

you drive home quickly to hop in the shower before your friend comes to get you. throwing on a silk slip dress as your outfit of choice, you slipped your heels on and met your friend in the car.

walking into the club, you’re met with the thumping bass of the music playing and the staunch smell of alcohol, sweat, and sex.

it made you think about the last time you got laid, which was a really long time ago. and honestly you wanted to sleep with spencer so bad you hadn’t been making advances elsewhere. but that was going to change tonight, you were determined to have good slutty fun, and hopefully get laid.

your friend grabbed your hand and beelined to the bar, ordering two tequila shots each. once you downed them you moved to the dance floor and started preying for a target. as you’re scanning the room, you notice a familiar looking mop of brown hair standing next to bald headed man. a combo you knew all too well.

-

derek morgan was a player. and before he’s a player, he’s a damn good friend. which was his reasoning for dragging spencer out of his apartment to come out to the club and have fun.

“but i can have fun at home by myself morgan.”

“kid, you need to let loose once in a while. you are young, i’m just helping you take advantage of it.”

-

so now spencer’s at the club (a sentence he still struggles to believe) wearing trousers and navy button down shirt to which morgan had popped the top buttons open because ‘it gives the ladies a sneak peek’. he just rolled his eyes and went with it. he’s nursing a shirley temple at the bar, perusing the environment when he comes across a pair of eyes he knows like the back of his hand.

when you recognize the amber eyes you couldn’t believe your luck. of course, on the one night you’d decided to explore other options he shows up in the least expected place for him to be. so much for getting over him, you think. shyly raising your hand to wave, spencer returns the gesture. morgan takes note, “who are you waving t- oh, pretty girl is here huh pretty boy?” he nudges him.

a blush raises on his face. spencer thought you were attractive, like really attractive. you were a great addition to the bau and he admired your work ethic a lot, the day you walked into the bullpen wearing a fitted pantsuit had his own pants growing real tight. he still remembers when you introduced yourself and he couldn’t even get up without exposing himself. you thankfully didn’t think it was weird, and spencer was relieved when it was finally time to go home. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have nights where he wished you were the one finishing him off and not his rough hands. he didn’t think you’d like someone like him, and took all of your ‘advances’ as morgan calls them, as acts of kindness.

morgan laughs as he watches spencer’s iq deteriorate to below 50 staring at you, “do you what you gotta do man. but you better be going home with someone tonight okay?”

spencer nods and nurses his drink a bit and looks back to morgan to realize he’s already off dancing with some girls in the corner. damn.

after your distanced encounter with spencer, you decide it’s time to move on and have some fun on your own. you couldn’t be hung up on him anymore, at least not tonight. tonight was for bad decisions.

good thing bad decision walked up to you asking to dance, whatshisname leads you to the dance floor and puts his hands on your hips, swaying to the beats of t-pain and pitbull.

you didn’t know, but spencer was watching every move you made. he watched you get led to the dance floor, the way he placed his hands right on your ass and squeezed, and how he turned you around so you were dancing on his front with your back. he gripped his glass so tight the bartender had to tell him he’d have to pay if it breaks.

he gets it, you’re attractive. this is the kind of thing that happens to people who look like you. who wouldn’t want you? but then he watched it happen a second time. and a third. and a fourth and fifth, till he just stopped counting at nine for his sanity.

spencer was not used to the green monster taking over him, but oh god was he fucking seething with jealousy.

you realized spencer was watching you by whatshisname number five. he hadn’t moved from his spot and he was constantly staring in your direction. deciding to do a little experiment, you played up your dancing a lot more, acting more flirtatious, dragging the guy’s hands further down, and letting out open mouthed moans that you knew spencer couldn’t hear but could definitely see. you watched as his jaw shifted and his knuckles turned white as you danced with each guy, realizing the growing effect that you now had on him.

by whatshisname number nine, you casted your hook. making sure to face spencer and meet his eyes, you watched as they darkened when he realized you were looking right at him. spencer might’ve brushed it off as a coincidence, but then you winked at him. and he realized what you were doing—you were taunting him, and fuck was it working for him. the bulge in his pants grew uncomfortable that he had to stand up to not draw so much attention to it under the bar lights. 

you watched him stand up and adjust himself and you threw your line. when he looked back up at you, you made a come here motion with your index finger and a bite of your lip. spencer’s eyes darkened impossibly more, he paid for his tab and strode over to you.

sinker.

he pulled you from the man behind you, who muttered a ‘what the fuck’ and moved away. spencer pulled you flush to his chest and with a low voice in the crest of your ear he whispered, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“i don’t think i know what you’re talking about dr. reid, could you explain it to me?”

spencer tightens his hold on you and ghosts over your ear once more, “this is a dangerous game you’re playing, sweetheart.”

“a game you joined the second you walked over here.”

he looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and matched the small smirk on your lips. game on.

the song changed to something with a more sultry beat, and you used the opportunity to wrap your arms around his neck and let his hands guide your hips to the music. while he wasn’t much of a dancer, he could definitely keep a beat. it didn’t prove to be so difficult when your chest was pushing up on his own that he was just waiting for them to spill out. he realized he could feel your hardened nipples through your slip, the nubs rubbing friction through the fabric of their clothes. he moaned internally while he gripped your hips to pull you even closer. it was clear spencer seemed to be getting comfortable with moving your body and holding you close, but you couldn’t let that happen.

before the second chorus you turn around in his arms so your back is pressed up against his front, and you start dancing on him.

spencer’s taken by surprise, something you felt when his hands faltered the confident rhythm it kept up, and while he watched you dance just like this with all those guys it’s like his mind is blank now.

you recognize the song playing, collide by justine skye & tyga, and use the sultry beat to your advantage. you move your ass hard on his front, feeling his length pressed between your cheeks. you gesture for him to lean his head down and he lets out a low groan as you whisper in his ear, “all that for me?”.

a primal instinct starts to take over spencer’s being, and he grips your hips to meet his rutting from behind. spencer was desperate for any friction that could soothe the growing ache in his pants. you grinned as you felt take what he needed from you. it was quickly wiped off your face when you felt his hands inching dangerously close to where you really wanted him.  you place your hands on his with surprise and look at him, “what are you doing?”

“i don’t think i know what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he threw back at you, “but if there’s something you’d like me to do, i’m all ears.” spencer grazes his fingers under the hem of your dress, toying with the lace band of your panties and slipping his fingers below it to stroke your inner thighs.

fuck. he turned it on you so fast it almost gave you whiplash. the provocative dancing was something you could handle, hell everyone on that dance floor was doing the same thing as you both. what you weren’t sure you could handle was him about to touch you in a public space. but, your body betrayed you as it turned you on to another plane. you look up at him with lust filled eyes and let out a breathy moan of his name. spencer collapses internally and stands his ground, “if you want something, beg me.”

spencer thinks he’s won the upper hand, and he’s feeling so smug behind you. he still thinks he has the upper hand until you reach down and place his middle and index finger in your mouth, circling your tongue around the digits.

“touch me.” you moan out, releasing his fingers.

spencer is dumbfounded how he’s the one about to burst out his pants when he made you beg for him. it should make him feel embarrassed at how close he was, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. not when you in his arms pleading him to do something. you sounded so pretty, and who was he to deny a pretty thing like you?

his fingers continue their journey down, outlining the lace trim resting on your thighs. he hooks his fingers on the fabric to pull it aside and slips into you, going at an aching pace to gather the wetness and groaning out, “jesus, you’re so wet, was this all for me? you needed my attention that bad, baby?”

you whimper and grip his hand even tighter because you’re not sure if your legs are holding out any longer. it’s all so overwhelming—having his hands down your panties in the middle of the dance floor, the lewdity of the noises in your ear, the hard length pressing desperately on your ass. this is all you’ve ever wanted from him, to want you. and now it’s happening, and your brain can’t fire the neurons fast enough to process the moment. instead your body responded with your skin heating up with anticipation, heart beating out as much adrenaline to keep up. the daze is getting foggier by the second as he trails his fingers up and down your slit, spreading the wetness and circling your clit on the way up. and you think you’re about to get accustomed to the pace he’s set, when he delves between your folds and you moan out loud so abruptly that the nearby patrons looked around wondering where it came from.

you can feel spencer’s shit eating grin behind you as he moves his head down to leave love bites on your neck. if he can feel your bluff dissipating, he’s not saying anything. his fingers set a painfully slow rhythm, and you grind down trying to get any more friction to reach your peak. he’s hitting you in all the right spots that make you see the stars and beyond, leaning your head back on his chest as you barrel towards your climax. you feel yourself mere seconds away from reaching, and spencer suddenly pulls his fingers out, making you whine out in protest, “wh- what are you doing?”

spencer grabs your wrist and starts dragging you through the sweaty bodies surrounding you, tightening his grip with a small smirk as he passes a few of the guys you were dancing with earlier. suckers.

he pushes the doors open with a force and while the cool air is attempting to return your body to homeostasis, the anticipation of where he’s going overtakes you, “spence, where are we going wh-“ you cut off your sentence with a gasp as he handles you flush to the door of his car. then it’s just silence for a few moments. no loud bass or weird dudes, just the two of you. the only sound that can be heard are your breaths competing for prominence. you look up at him and focus on the details of his face illuminated by the moonlight, trying to read his expression. his honeyed eyes have fully darkened to a lustful hickory, and suddenly you felt like a gazelle being preyed on by a lion.

he reaches into his pocket and unlocks the car with a soft beep. it’s the focused eyes on you that drive you to open the door, but it’s the subtle silent nod of his head towards the car that makes you move inside waiting for him to join you. he climbs in after you, shutting the door and locking it.

spencer moves to the middle seat and allows his legs to spread open, he taps his thighs and faintly says, “come here.”

you shuffle closer and swing your legs over him, your dress rising up a little as you fully sit on his clothed crotch. and now you realize the corporeality of the moment. it’s like, really real now. all this time pining after the boy genius with no luck and now he’s got you in the backseat of his car and your panties crooked, waiting for you to move. the bravado you wore and so tightly held onto for a majority of the night comes crashing down like a shattered vase, and you’re not sure if you have any more in you to salvage the pieces. you may be a profiler, but try as you might you are not a mind reader, yet you so desperately want to know what he’s thinking. is it too much to ask what this means? will it overwhelm him to say you’ve dreamt about this moment for many nights, and how those dreams went on till the early morning when he’d stay and brush your hair back with a temple kiss. the whispers of sweet nothings sticking to you like honey as you got ready for the day. are these questions you even want to know the answer to?

you may not be a mind reader, but he is dr. spencer reid, who noticed your demeanor change after too long of a silence.

“hey,” he holds your chin delicately to your eyes, “it’s okay if you want to stop, i’m sorry for tak-“

it’s your turn to cut him off, “no! no i, i still want this, i just,” you falter.

“just what, baby?” he coos softly.

it makes tears well up in your eyes, you hope he can’t see them, “i’ve just wanted this for so long, and it’s probably embarrassing that i’m admitting this now of all times, but i don’t know if i can handle this meaning more to me than it does to you.” you confess quietly.

spencer listens to your admission and gingerly resecures his arm behind you, a position he thinks is starting to become second nature. he rubs soft shapes into the small of your back, “what makes you think that?”

“because i basically threw myself at you tonight, and it seems to be the first time you noticed me.” you say halfheartedly. 

“you think i don’t notice you?” he whispers, leaning in to leave soft kisses in the crook of your neck. spencer is dumbfounded, confused at how you reached such a conclusion. but as a man of science, he feels there’s only one way to prove himself. he breathes your name out, “can i show you how much i notice you? please?”

you nod, at least you could commit this moment to memory if it was all you’d have left of him. he presses his lips to yours for the first time that night, your breath faltering as he becomes more feverous with his attacks. slotting his tongue with yours, your hands move up to his silky hair to take purchase in. he lets out a groan as he pulls back from you, “i need to taste you.”

he guides your body to lean back on the center console, the only way his tall figure would be able to accommodate this position. your legs are still split on either side of his legs, using your hands to prop yourself up to watch his movements. he hooks his fingers on the sides of your panties and slowly slides them down, moaning at the way your slick causes resistance as he pulls them off your legs. wrapping his arms under your thighs to lift you up to face level, he places small kisses on your inner thighs as he makes his way to your core. he places a final kiss on your center before licking a long stripe up to your clit. moaning out wantonly, he continues his ministrations and kitten licks all over you, circling back up to your clit after each round.

“spence..” you whine out. he moves his focus to your clit, circling and sucking till you’re squirming in his arms so much has to grip your thighs. your hands are fussing through his hair, gripping and pulling to find something to ground you. spencer then slips his fingers into your core for the second time tonight, and you lose it.

he’s pumping his fingers in and out, that all you can hear is the squelching noises of your cunt. adding another one, you’re unable to stay still anymore, as if you were before.

“oh my fuck, spencer. i’m gonna cu-, cum. please don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” you moan out filthy.

spencer unlatches his mouth for a moment, “come for me, baby.”

your orgasm crashes down on you like a wave breaking on the shore. it’s all consuming, leaving you shaking and breathless and he lifts his head from between your legs and you see his chin glistening with you in the moonlight. the sight itself is so pornographic, you can’t help but shuffle back onto his lap to crash your lips back to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. he tangles his hands in your hair as you move yours between you both, unzipping his trousers to palm him through his boxers.

he breakily moans in your ear as you slowly pull back the band to take him out. the sight takes you by surprise, you knew he was big, you felt it on your ass while you were dancing. but seeing how it compared to your hand had you bulging your eyes.

“you’re so big,” you whisper. how the hell was that fitting inside of you?

spencer the mind reader places his hand on top of yours as you lazily stroke him, “we’ll go slow, don’t worry.” he can’t help but feel his ego inflate to the skies, he can’t remember the last time he had someone look intimidated by him.

nodding faintly, you gather the spit in your mouth and let it fall between you both to land on the flushed pink tip. you spread it up and down his length, setting a slow pace that had him moaning expletives in your ear.

“oh-, ohhh, fuck baby. you’re so good at that holy shit,” he says trying to hold himself together. you give him a few more pumps before lifting your hips up to guide him inside you. you move his tip to your entrance, rubbing it teasingly before spencer places his hands on your sides to stabilize you, and slowly sink you down onto him.

the second his tip pushes past your folds, you both moan out in harmony. placing your hands on his shoulders you leverage yourself to sink down further inch by inch, until your core is flush with the base of his thighs.

spencer is a man of many words, maybe too many. but right now the only word he can remember is your name as he watched you take his length whole inch by inch slowly losing any restraint he had left. the pressure his cock had inside of you was heavenly. you’d never felt so full, and you could tell he was trying so hard to stay still as you adjusted above him.

when you bottom out spencer throws his head back against the seat, “oh that’s it, good girl,” you clenched around him. “you okay?”

you nod in response, ignoring the way the term of endearment sent flutters to your heart, and attempt an experimental rock of your hips, causing spencer’s head to whip up and meet your lust blown eyes with his own. he adjusts his hands on the sides of your thighs and starts helping you move up and down on his length, setting a brutally slow pace.

you rest your head and moan into the crook of his neck as he continues his movements, “spencer, please, more, i can take it.”

he still can’t believe what’s happening right now, all those days he spent thinking about you in the bullpen, at home, everywhere really, and here you were begging on top of him to fuck you good.

“you still think i don’t notice you?” he says into your ear, “i have dreamt about what you’d look like bouncing on my cock, and you are blowing any idea i had out of the water.”

you whimper as he continues, “and when i’m not thinking about ruining you, i am in awe at how you walk through life. you bring so much joy everywhere you go, it’s a blessing to be able to experience you.” he says through shaky breaths.

the praise goes straight to core, with some traveling to your heart again, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hold on before you unravel physically and emotionally.

his hands are guiding you up and down at a harder pace now, “so,” thrust. “you still think,” thrust, “i don’t notice you?” he thrusts into you once more and holds you down, making sure you’re looking directly at him, “it was never an option to brush past you, you are everything to me. i didn’t know how to show that without overwhelming you. i’m sorry.”

tears well up in your eyes again, spencer notices this time and presses a small kiss on your forehead. all your senses feel like they’re in overdrive, unable to comprehend anything right now. your skin feels like it’s on fire as he rolls your hips faster to meet his ruts.

“spence, i- i’m so close.” you whine desperately. 

he slips his hand between you both to rub your clit, “i know baby, i’ve got you. let go for me.”

his words were enough to break the dam, your second climax of the night hurling towards you. the white hot feeling overtook your whole body, shaking and clenching above him. your grip on him was threateningly vicious, probably leaving deep crescent marks in the nape of his shoulders. you wish the euphoria would last forever if it meant having spencer like this. as you came down from your high, the two of you were still moving together, slowly rocking your hips to meet each other. once you were grounded again, you pushed through the sensitivity in your core to rise up on his length, just barely leaving the tip in before you slid back down fast and hard, now focusing on spencer reaching his peak.

“oh jesus, fuck.” spencer moaned out brokenly.

“come on spence you can do it,” you taunted as you clenched down, “come inside me, make a mess of me please.” a rush of confidence flowed through as you whispered into his ear, and spencer held your hips to help you bounce faster on him.

spencer let out a loud groan as you felt the hot spurts coat your insides, he was leaving matching crescent marks on the sides of your hips as the ones on his shoulders, making sure all of him was left in you. feeling him soften inside, you remained on his lap with him sheathed in you. you both are breathing heavily, leaning back to hopefully give you both some relief from the sex filled air. looking around the car you realize that all the windows are fogged up and let out a tiny giggle.

“what’s so funny?” he looks up at you slightly amused and very out of breath.

“no it’s just, the windows are such a dead giveaway for what we just did in here.” 

“eh, i don’t really care what people think.”

“gasp, dr. reid wants to let the world know he has car sex with random girls?”

he leans in to bite your neck playfully, “random? did nothing i said during all that register for you?”

you yelp and attempt to play dumb, “actually i don’t remember a word, you might have to jog my memory. maybe even recreate the circumstances to help with cementing it. i read about situational memorization where certain scenarios are easily remembered when there’s a big event to anchor it to.”

he swears he could’ve melted on the spot at you explaining a concept you’d read about to him, “careful sweetheart, calling it a big event might inflate my ego a little too high.”

“i mean, i can tell it worked,” you tease as you feel him harden inside of you again, “so tell me genius, how many times does a scenario have to happen for me to remember the information?”

“i guess we’ll have to find out, don’t we?”

[finnlongman]

When I was an undergrad, I made a point of trying to sidetrack my supervisors as much as possible during supervisions, so that we could go off on a tangent and use up half the time discussing something barely related to my essay, and therefore have less time to dwell on its flaws.

(For those unfamiliar with the Cambridge supervision system, each week you're required to write an essay about a topic you probably knew nothing about before being handed the reading list, and then you spend an hour discussing it one-on-one, or in small groups depending on the subject, with your supervisor, who may be a random PhD student or may be the person who wrote half the reading list, depending on your luck.)

Once, I'd had a particularly bad week and had not written my essay about Scandinavian settlement in England, so I was having a more discussion-based supervision drawing on some bullet points I'd written. This would have been in my first term of first year, if I remember correctly. And we were talking about reasons why Vikings might settle rather than simply raiding, and my supervisor made some comment about them wanting "somewhere to wash their socks".

Sensing a potential avenue for distraction and also genuinely curious, I immediately asked, "Did Vikings wear socks?". My supervisor took the bait, and we passed the next ten minutes discussing a sock found preserved in York, of seemingly Scandinavian make, that would appear to answer that question in the affirmative. I remember very little else from that module, but nine years down the line, I remembered that there was a Scandinavian-style sock found in York.

Anyway, today I showed up to the department's graduate presentations (compulsory) and discovered that the first of the two talks was entirely about this sock. I was honestly so pleased. I now know several more things about this sock! I have some details to pad out my vague understanding that there was something distinctive about how it was made! I have been introduced to the complex question of "did the English wear socks or were they a Scandinavian fashion?"! (Answer: there is no definitive evidence for widespread early English sock-wearing, but textile evidence is complicated, so this may not be conclusive.)

This is probably not what most people took from the "England Before The Normans" paper, but frankly, I never was any good at keeping track of kings. I would rather learn about the socks. And today -- just as in that supervision nine years ago -- I did.

[bth3cowboi]

love conjeture, lh44 x reader

masterlist

pairing: lewis hamilton x mathematician!reader

summary: sometimes algorithms win championships, other times they help find love. (social media au)

mercedesamgf1

liked by yninmath, georgerussell63 and 879.301 others

mercedesamgf1 This year we want to give a special thank-you to Dr. Yn Ln! With the creation of her new algorithm focused on data analysis and her extensive collaboration this season our view in analytics evolved to unimaginable levels. We are forever grateful for her contributions and what they mean for the future of Formula 1. Thanks again Dr. Ln, and good luck with the thesis! 😎💻

tagged yninmath;

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yninmath thank you for the opportunity🫡💙 it was an honor to work alongside this great team

mercedesamgf1 👏💙

user1 omg work girlll!!

user2 just googled her and im going crazy like how do you have 3 phds at 27😭?

user3 graduated super early too shes kind of a genius lol

lewishamilton thank you miss yn💙

yninmath your welcome sir champion🥹

user4 ok this is cuteee

user5 you should be thanking him bffr

georgerussell63 Outstanding!🙌 Make sure to come back Dr. Yn

yninmath oh but the travelling😮‍💨

lewishamilton nah you’ll make it back

yninmath if you say so haha

yninmath

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yninmath currently picking up trash couches, writing thesis and remembering the friends ive made along the way 🤓💘

on a serious note, if anyone is interested in reading about topology feel free to read my new paper abt it (link in bio #influencer)

tagged bestfriend, roscoelovescoco;

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roscoelovescoco working’s hard🐾😵‍💫

yninmath or hardly working🤔

bestfriend surprised the couch didnt bring rats or something

yninmath no rats or fleas!!! its been a great couch #trashcouch #luckygirls

bestfriend please never use # again

user1 great paper dr yn😍 is there any way I could get your paper on the hodge conjeture for academical porpouses? magazines are too expensive, help a girl out🙏

yninmath dm me girl that should be free so make sure your class gets it too

user2 dr yn youre saving the nyu maths class of 25’🫡

lewishamilton no rest on break miss yn?

yninmath you know me already haha💞

user3 suspicious…

user4 what? they cant be just friends?

user5 I thought she worked for merecedes, what is this?

user6 she was only there to develop part of her thesis tho still won them another championship

liked by lewishamilton

f1paddockgossip

liked by pierregasly and 903.443 others

f1paddockgossip BREAKING! Lewis Hamilton was caught while vacationing in France with mathematician and Mercedes’ collaborator Dr. Yn Ln. The pair are rumored to be in a months-long relationship already, starting in the middle of last season.

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user1 NOOOOO

user2 isnt she like way younger than him? weird

user3 shes literally a grown woman lol she can be with whoever she pleases

user4 no cause they actually look really cute🥹 so happy for them

user5 right! she seems super nice

user6 i just know that man is confused everytime she talks numbers lmao the curse of dating a stem girlie

lewishamilton

liked by yninmath, f1 and 3.478.139 others

lewishamilton congrats on the finished thesis miss yn😉💙 love you

comments have been limited

yninmath love u and ty for the championship😘 would have failed otherwise

lewishamilton 😂😂

lewishamilton anything for my girl

yninmath 🥹

yninmath

liked by mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton and others

yninmath you best believe he sat on the #trashcouch #dearlordwhenigettoheaven

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bestfriend did it have fleas lewishamilton?

lewishamilton no but I was worried

yninmath booo tomatoes

bestfriend just buy a new one please

yninmath i believe in sustentability🫡🍃

lewishamilton there has to be a limit

lewishamilton ❤️❤️

yninmath love you sm

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——

a/n: ty for reading and i hope you enjoyed🩷 maybe ill be writing more for different drivers soon, so if anyone is interesed keep that in mind!

[the--plant]

ayy! tbh I was using it mostly for getting pictures haha but the information was also a fun read!

Hi! I just found your blog while researching Apatosaurus for a project at work and your post about Apatosaurus ajax and A. louisae was so informative and cool! Was very surprised when reading after I slowly realized that I was back on Tumblr haha! Your blog is cool and I think this is awesome. <3

Also, I saw your Kulinday post and was curious, what museum do you work in?

Awwww thank you! It's a somewhat outdated post now thought, so keep that in mind!!!

I am a graduate student in southern New Mexico and I work in a museum down here part time as part of my museum studies training. I'm getting my PhD in paleoecology and I hope to curate a museum some day, provided the world doesn't. ya know. end.

granted, I also have to graduate, which is a separate issue

[dear-ao3]

Not an ao3 thing directly, but I submit my PhD thesis in Developmental neurobiology/ neurobiophysics? Embryology?? tomorrow (terrifying, which feels appropriate for Halloween. I've hidden a cat in a witches hat in it) and honestly I have so much appreciation for longfic writers now! How do people do this on the regular?!

Anyway, all the love to the writers out there and happy Halloween 🎃

well to put it quite simply. we are insane.

good luck on your thesis!

[ive-been-timebombed]

CHAPTER FIVE

Danny remembers when he first got Jason. And then they meet in a run down apartment.

Danny was already nervous, and he wasn’t even in the mortal world yet. He had gotten new clothes and a hair cut. Now he was standing in front of a portal that would take him to his old apartment that was in Gotham. The same apartment he first taken Jason to when he was given to him.

Danny thinks that was one of his favorite days but also the worst. He was in college walking home from his part time job. When a woman with a damn near newborn baby approached him.

________

Danny groaned as he got up from his bed. He was just about to go to bed but a knock on the door stopped him. He walked through the clean apartment to the door. He took a deep breath before he opened it and looked around. He didn’t see anyone- a baby?! He quickly bent down and checked on the kid.

He picked him up feeling the soul of the small human made him scared he was gonna hurt it. Cradling the baby to his chest he then paid attention to the letter on the ground.

‘Daniel. This is your baby. I can’t take care of him anymore. All his documents are in the bag. I’m sorry I pushed the burden to you’

Danny glanced at the black backpack before he looked at the baby.. he had his nose.. oh what bad luck. He picked up the bag and dragged it inside putting it on the table he then sat on the couch holding the baby. He couldn’t believe.. he didn’t know how to take care of a child. He could barely take care of himself! He didn’t make barely enough money to take care of both of them. Especially a baby.

Oh but he was now forced to care for him. And he would do a damn good job if he had any say.

______________

Jason had looked into the Fenton family also. It was bizarre stuff. The site looked to be completely abandoned everything was unedited since 2016. All dates were old and pictures never updated. So he looked up individual people.

Jack Fenton, Jason hummed when he noticed he had the same middle name as his first, he was a big burley man the skipped leg day often. He had the.. same white hair by his nape as his dad. Blue eyes like him. He had died in 2016 in some freak accident in his home.

Madeline Fenton a lady who had many PHDs and seemed like a great mother. Her hair ginger and eyes purple? Jason didn’t know peoples eyes could be purple. She had records of being in martial arts and had her guns licenses. She had also died with her husband in 2016 in the same freak accident.

Jazmine Fenton a girl who looked like her mother. All As in high school and was on the road of being a therapist. She was accepted into college and planned to go before he died in the accident along with her parents.

The last one, was Daniel Fenton. He was- Jason stopped when he saw the screen. He expected the son to be dead dying in the accident. But he had a missing persons case.. that had a picture of a very similar man. The same man with a scar. Jason figured out who his father was. And he was gonna figure out everything he could.. starting with going to his apartment. It was an abandoned building left to rot due to mold and unkept problems.

_______

Danny looked around his old place. His stuff was still here.. he knew the building was going to be destroyed so he thought he would’ve appeared in old alleyway or something. Not have a trip in memory lane.

The pictures of him and Jason still hung on the wall. The hole that was made by Jason when he threw a baseball at him. The messy living room that was never cleaned up because he left as soon as he dropped Jason off. He stepped around the toys as he stopped in front of the door that had an old paper pinned to it.

It had the faded words of ‘JASONS RUOM. Sta out dad! IL throw the bal at u agin!’ With stars and rocket ships decorating the sides. Danny smiled at the memories of Jason’s sounding out the words on the table. He walked through the door not risking ruining anything by actually opening the door. He teared up at the room. The old books still on the bookshelf and the bed still unmade. The teddy bear on the bed tucked in on the other side. The room a mess with toys and glow in the dark stars that fell off the ceiling.

Danny shoot up hearing the sound of the front door opening. He turned invisible not risking being caught this early on the mortal realm. He would leave immediately but.. he could feel the ectoplasm in the air. It was similar to his.. could it be Jason?

______

Stepping into the apartment was weird to Jason. He could feel the memories in there but he couldn’t remember them. He closed the door behind him looking around. He reached up and took off his helmet. This was Jason’s moment not Red Hoods. Setting the helmet on the table he glanced at the pictures on the wall. Stepping to them picking it off the wall and looking at the picture.

It was him.. and his dad holding him up under his arms holding him up to reach a book. Grabbing the next picture it was of his Dad with a bunch toilet paper wrapped around him and Jason in a doctor getup wrapping more around him. He set the pictures on the wall swallowing the lump in his throat as he moved to the living room glancing at the papers and crayons on the table.

He took a deep breath as he stopped in the doorway. The apartment was small but it was well lived in. The layer of dust on everything made it worse. He could imagine before it was left to dust.. how it would look. How he would run in and his father closing the door behind him. How he would watch TV hoping his father wouldn’t notice his bedtime had passed.

He’s eyes looked at the toys on the ground a story he would never know in each place spot. Maybe the stuffed dinosaur was a doctor in his childhood mind or even an evil he had to defeat. Maybe his dad played with him and that was his Dino he force him to play with. He would never know.. he ignored the tears appearing in his eyes. He walks to his door if the paper was to go by. Before he went in he looked over to the door next to it. He went and opened it. It was another bedroom his father’s. The layer of dust was suffocating.

The forgotten remains of his past. The bed was made and seemed thin. The stopped in front of the desk.. it had bills on it. Eviction notices.. he would have never guessed.. with all the toys. He bit his lip in an effort to stop the attention to his feelings. Focus on the pain. He walked around the bed. A picture of him and his Dad smiling at the camera. He’s eyes looked left the room before he started crying in the middle of the ghost of his dad.

A shaky breath and a hand over his mouth he walked into his old room resolving that he would cry when he went in. But he stopped as he looked at a man. The same man that was in the pictures. The man would looked so strong in the pictures next to a kid Jason yet so much smaller and frail now next to him. He felt to big. To much.

They looked at each other one in shock and tears falling from his eyes. The other looking at him in guilt but all the same with the tears falling from his eyes.

“I’m sorry..” The voice broke the silence with a startling start. That was Jason’s dad. He was here in his old room. The voice that was smooth. Less echoey than before. He had questions about so much. His father was right there to answer them.

@vasia-k

Sorry for any misspellings or grammar issues. It’s late and I had a headache when I wrote this.

[gomzdrawfr]

!! Not long at all thank you for sharing !! 😭💐

My uh favorite subjects involves things that has nothing to do with the primary focus in pharmacy (yk, the medicine the chemistry the molecules and all) djsjjdjsjss I love anything about pathophysiology and physiology, favorite system is probably cardiology and musculoskeletal system (I absolutely despise central nervous system please end me)

Thank you for the gift box!!!!!! Giving you one as well!!!!!

yoU'RE A PHARMACIST TOO?!!!!!!!!!!! BRO!!! *shakes your shoulders before grabbing your hands, looking at you with excitement and a mix of pain* I hope your job has been okay it's hell out there and I haven't even graudate KASJHDKASJ XD

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Gomz you´re so cute!!!! (Please picture me sightly dishevelled and buzzing with excitement after getting shaken by one of my favourite artists who happens to be a fellow pharmacist).  

“Pain and excitement” <- YES, YOU GET IT!!!!!!!!!!  Uni was rough, so many sleepless nights . I 100% feel your pain, so much to learn, so little time, so many different subjects. Do you have a favourite subject btw? If you ever need to vent or need some encouragement just shoot me an aks and I´ll cheer you on!!!!!!!!!

 I graduated in 2021 and after a one-year of mandatory work in a public pharmacy (enjoyed explaining stuff and supporting people/ absolutely hated how rude most customers are) I dove right back into academia and am currently working on my PhD (would not recommend but at the same time I LOVE teaching the next generation of pharmacist)

Sending you a big box filled with lots of snacks, caffein and spite (for these extra tough study sessions).  You´ve got this 💪 💪 💪 !!!!!!!!

(sorry my answer is so ridiculously long, I got excited and yapped to much)

[ytmanzwhore]

Chase It - 2

read chapter one here

summary: nellie meets the so called tornado wrangler

warnings: none

AN: tagging my one friend who asked to be notified :) also if these seem split up weird it's because they're written for wattpad so some chapters may seem like abrupt endings. lemme know your thoughts! @stillhere197

Javi and Kate had somehow gotten the biggest burst of luck Nellie had seen in her nursing career, somehow convincing Nellie's supervisor to give her three shifts off after her next shift, so she could come with them on their chase. Nellie grumbled under her breath for a bit in the back of the car as they drove to meet up with the rest of Javi's team. 

"This is fancy as hell," Nellie said under her breath as she looked at the car she was sitting in, and all the new gear. "Javi how are you getting all this capital?"

"Storm Par has investors,"  he said simply as the three of them pulled up to a familiar sight Nellie had grown up on. A old school truck stop with small groups of people preparing to go chase some storms. As Javi pulled to a stop, Nellie's chest got a little tight as she felt for the first time what she was actually doing today. She was chasing for the first time in five years. 

The slam of doors knocked her from her stupor, and she jumped out of the car and followed Kate and Javi to a group of men. "Alright team," Javi gathered the group. "You guys have all heard me talk about Kate, and Nellie. The two of them have some of the best instincts I know, they're the best. And yall won't miss working with a better team. We've got PhDs from NASA, FEMA, NWS."

"And no women," Nellie said with a head tilt as Javi stumbled over his sentence.

"Well, my partner here went to MIT, not Muskogee State," Javi clapped the tall brunette on the shoulder. "But he makes up for it with his beautiful personality." Scott deapanned them with a smile.

"Likely," Nellie murmured as she turned her gaze away from the men and towards the skies. Javi and Scott's next words were cut off by a red truck coming screeching in the lot with the windows down and the music blaring. The amateurs in the lot began to frenzy as the trucks passed, and Nellie raised a brow as a brunette man leaned out of the window with a camera. 

"Are they filming?" Nellie asked in surprise as the man taunted Scott and the PhD's with a grin as he drove by. 

"Who are they?" Kate asked.

"Chasers out of Arkansas," Javi informed them with a frown. 

"Hillbillies with a youtube channel," Scott said. And with that, the group watched as the truck was thrown into park and a crowd formed as a big Stetson came through the open door and a tall blonde stood on the running boards.

"How you feeling Ty?" the camera man turned the lens to the blonde. 

"Feeling good Boone," the man smirked cockily. "And if you feel it?"

"Chase it!" the crowd yelled back.

"I said, if you feel it?"

"Chase it!" Nellie burst into laughter as she watched the spectacle in front of her.

"That's Tyler Owens," Javi told the girls as Nellie kept giggling, making eye contact with the blonde man, Tyler. Feeling his stare even through his dark sunglasses as he tipped his hat. She tipped her imaginary Stetson right back at him as Javi carried on. "Calls himself a Tornado Wrangler."

"A tornado what?" Nellie questioned as she watched as their van was opened and merch began to flow. "This is hysterical."

Javi pulled up a tablet, pulling some data for Kate to look at. Nellie let the blonde take the data, while she began walking to the open area next to the stop. Nellie heard Javi shoo off the crowd while she began to look at the sky. Looking East then West, taking a deep breath and getting that tingly feeling she hadn't let herself give into in five years. 

She leaned down to the grass, grabbing a dandelion for her and Kate, letting the petals fall as they looked at the sky. 

"You know I used to do that," Tyler said as he approached the two newcomers, talking to both of them but unable to keep his eyes off the petite red head who he was captivated by. "Compare the wind direction to cloud movement. Get a feel for the shear. Sometimes the old ways are better than the new."

Tyler watched both of them, carrying on when he didn't get a response. "Where yall in from?"

"New York," Kate said crisply, and Nellie chose not to answer. 

"You're a long way from home City Girls," Tyler smirked, watching Nellie in confusion as she snickered. "So yall working with Storm Par?"

"Tyler," they were interruppted by a British man approaching them. "Do we know which storm we're chasing yet?"

"Well, why don't we ask these two-" Tyler paused, fishing for their names. 

"Nellie," the red head smiled kindly as she reached out to shake the Brit's hand. "This is Kate. We're your city girls."

"Hi Nellie," Tyler smirked. "Kate. I'm Tyler."

"Oh we couldn't miss that, with the t shirts, it's a little hard," Nellie smiled sweetly as Kate grinned. 

"I'm Ben, a reporter," the Brit stuck his hand out to Kate. "I'm writing a piece on american storm chasing and Tyler's letting me ride along with him."

"Ben just had to promise to only write good things about me," Tyler grinned. 

"Good luck with that," Kate said and turned around.

"Might have to dig deep Ben," Nellie giggled as she turned on the heel of her boot.

"Hold on," Tyler called out. "You didn't say where we're going. If we go West we double our chances. East? High risk, high reward."

"Go for the reward," Kate advised as Nellie shook her head and kept walking. "Wouldn't want Ben to think you're boring."

"Boring's not usually a problem for me," Tyler said as Kate followed Nellie.

"But humility apparently is!" Nellie called over her shoulder, offering Tyler and Ben a sweet smile and a finger wave as she approached Javi and Scott.

"We're going West," Nellie said to the boys, Kate catching up with her. 

"Cell to the East has better numbers," Scott protested.

"Doesn't feel right," Kate shook her head. 

"Yeah, cap's too strong," Nellie agreed. "Won't ever break." Scott sighed as Javi rallied the troops and everyone got back in the trucks. 

[jstor]

hi jstor, quick question, what do i do with all the regret that's slowly choking me? i'm an academic at heart in a world where i'm no longer in academia, and i'm not thriving one bit 🫠 had to turn down a place in a phd program 2 yrs ago & now it's my biggest regret in life. you've given people such compassionate advice, so maybe you can help? research/writing is my passion & i miss having the space to indulge it & keep learning!

Hi there, thanks for reaching out with such a heartfelt question. It takes a lot to express this sort of sentiment publicly and we appreciate that you trust us enough to ask.

The regret you're feeling is natural, considering so much of your identity and passion lies in your research and writing. Your friendly JSTOR mod has also been struggling with feeling unmoored outside of academia, and I've been wondering myself if I should work my way back somehow or create a structure of my own.

The good news is that you can actually create a structure of your own! Many scholars contribute to their fields independently, so it may be worth considering a personal research project that you can work on at your own pace (which has its advantages). Public libraries often provide access to academic databases like JSTOR, and your alma mater might have resources available to alumni. Communities and forums online are a good way to reach others who are feeling similar and doing similar things.

Your writing also doesn't have to stop! If it's not your only focus it may go quite a bit slower, but many journals accept submissions from independent researchers. In addition, platforms like Medium and Substack may allow you to self-publish some of your work. You could even look into pitching guest posts for relevant publications!

It doesn't have to be a permanent goodbye to academia either. Does your alma mater welcome guest lecturers, or are there any community workshops in your area? These are some ways you could share your passions with others. Plus, academia will always be there–if an opportunity arises for you to return and it aligns with your circumstances, you can.

This is by no means exhaustive, so I do hope that anyone from the community who would like to share insights does so in the replies. Wishing you the best of luck, wherever you may go from here!

[wolfstarlibrarian]

Do you have any reality-tv AUs? Bingeing love island and i need the drama lol.

Hello friend and yes! I don't know any Love Island AUs but did include as many reality show wolfstar AUs that I could. If anyone knows of more, please reblog with recs!

Wolfstar Reality Show AUs

GBBO:

wading in waist-high water by @colgatebluemintygel Remus is a PhD student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. On a whim, he enters the Great British Bake Off and is swept up in a flurry of curdled custard, shrunken souffle, and under-proved dough. Remus expects to be challenged and to embarrass himself on public television. What he doesn’t account for are the friendships he develops with the other contestants and the deep connection he forms with his teenage crush, Sirius Black: charming ex-boy band member and Bake Off presenter.

I Didn't Come Here to Party, I Only Came for the Cake by @attheendoftheday “Yunee foappy foabaaof,” James mumbles around the crepe in his mouth, gesticulating at the television with a fork. Sirius, much familiar with James-speak, translates. “I need to apply for the bake off?” Sirius asks. James nods.

The Great Wizarding Christmas Bake Off by @earlybloomingparentheses Three baking challenges, three glowing fruitcake runes, two not-so-secretly smitten contestants, two small explosions, one first kiss, one unexpectedly sentimental judge, and plenty of holiday cheer. Oh, and one Christmas Bake Off champion.

Let Them Eat Cake by @onlydreamofmysoul Welcome back to the newest season of The Great British Bake Off Remus is competing in the Great British Bake Off. His only focus are his cakes. (And a certain charming presenter of course)

Amazing Race:

The World Is Waiting For You by @thechanchanman “The world is waiting for you.” Leave it to Florida to have annoying birds. They don’t have birds like that in Boston. Sure, their birds are rude and will shit on you, but at least they're quiet. “Good luck. Travel safe,” Phil pauses for a moment. “Go!” Remus wasn’t paying close attention, to be honest. But thankfully Lily was. She’s still holding onto his hand when Phil announces the start of the race and pulls him forward so hard that he is now wondering if his left arm is still attached to its socket.

Married at First Sight:

Married at first sight by @tracingpatternswrites Usually, a romance story ends when the couple say I do, but in this case, that is where it starts. Can you marry a total stranger and still make it work? Can a group of experts really find your perfect match? And how do you stay true to yourself when your every move is caught on camera?

BOOK REC:

Looking for a book similar to these fics? With characters that are so lovable? A disaster millionaire with anxiety who goes on a dating show to change his reputation and a producer with depression who loves love but can never find it for himself? Then check out this book!

The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun

“I’m not afraid of anything. Except emotional intimacy and abandonment.”

If you've read any of the fics or the book please scream at me!

[vanillablankcanvas]

Part 1 Trolls Headcanons/ Theories/ Thoughts/ Ideas

Part2 Part3 Part4 Part5 Part6 Part7 Part8 Part9 Part10

Trolls - in general Trolls are pretty rare outside their usual kingdoms and it's considered good luck to meet one.

Brozone - drastically changed their looks coz they hate that they used to dress the same.

Bruce - one of those dads who would get a new barbeque and show off all the cool features to the other local dads.

Bruce - "No kids, we're not keeping that stray animal, end of story, no way..." - 1 week later and he's giving it kisses and building it an over the top kennel with a heated blanket and a water fountain.

Bruce - (canon?) carried all their eggs, indirect reason why his hair is so big. (Side note - I read somewhere someone called all their kids 'The Bakers Dozen' and I frigging love that)

Floyd - solo career after he left Brozone - all his songs were PINK FLOYD SONGS! (Maybe that could've been his stage name?)

Floyd - his hair is naturally pink but JD made him make it redder because 'we're a boyband and pink is a girls colour'

John Dory - has embarrassing baby pictures of his brothers as leverage

John Dory - over-exaggerates his retellings of stories "I fought off 30 no no no 40 snakes with one hand behind my back."

John Dory - always casually asking Poppy, Brandy and Viva to marry him, over small things too "Brandy, these pancakes are delicious, marry me."

Clay - writes long and very detailed critical reviews of restaurants

Clay - has reading glasses. Probably the ones that attach magnetically at the nose ridge.

Clay - labels everything (labelmaker is to Clay as Gary is to Branch)

Clay - very into color coded itineraries and always know everyone's business "Poppy is currently at Smidge's pod doing her hair" "How could you possibly know that?" "I have my sources."

Clay - also a notary and registered marriage celebrant

Clay - hair was always naturally green but JDs hair was already green. JD said he had to be yellow for the band, they needed that color coordinated group vibe.

Clay - has drafts for his own book series

Clay - actually plays golf

Clay - gets clumsy when trying to impress someone he admires (imagine him meeting King Peppy and he just knocks things over)

Clay - competitive af - brothers know better than to verse him at anything - has an over the top victory dance

Viva - that concept art of tiny Viva is the age she was when they escaped the Troll Tree. So like 15 maybe?

Viva - wants to make up for all the missed holidays/birthdays/parties with Poppy so she is constantly popping out from places with gifts yelling SURPRISE!

Branch - for Pop Trolls - being in a famous singing group is the equivalent of being a recognized expert in your field. So the fact that Branch is in TWO famous boy bands is like he has several PhDs.

Branch - Kismet formed inside a group home for Trollings

Poppy and Vivas mother - my theory is that they managed to keep princess Viva a secret from the Bergens. They chose the Queen for Trollstice when they discovered what they thought was her first egg. The Troll Tree escape plan came about when Chef promised the new royal trolling for the young Bergen prince.

[mirrorball-leclerc]

paint the town red - part one

THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA

series masterlist

liked by peterbparker, harleykeener, queenshuri and others

biancastark_potts 'all the rumors are true'

view all comments

username bestie which driver will you be the race engineer for?

username is sebastian coming back? tell me that rumor is true

tonystark you're supposed to be working!

↳ biancastark_potts i am working. ask anyone. except harley, he'll lie to you.

↳ harleykeener she's being no help! spanish was not one of my public school requirements. i don't think i am qualified for this job.

↳ peterbparker I CAN SPEAK SPANISH! LET ME BE SAINZ'S RACE ENGINEER!

↳ harleykeener YOU FOCUS ON YOUR PHYSICS! LET ME HAVE THIS PARKER!

↳ biancastark_potts dad literally made you social media admin for the offical ferrari account. a mistake on his part truly.

↳ tonystark i regret everything now.

username so, stark will be race engineer for leclerc and keener for sainz?

↳ username an iconic group truly and i know nothing about this keener kid

↳ harleykeener i got a stark internship because i made a potato gun for tony one time when i was a child.

liked by biancastark_potts, harleykeener, and peterbparker and other

scuderiaferrari meet ferrari's newest race engineers. bianca stark-potts (24) (left) will become charles leclerc's new race engineer, replacing xavier marcos. while harley keener (20) (right) will become carlos sainz' new race engineer, replacing riccardo adami. these two will also be taking on the roles of lead engineers for our cars and they know they can deliver a championship winning car. these two are excited to be taking on the world of formula one.

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📍peterbparker this was all proofread by mrs. pepper stark-potts. i would've gone with something like 'out with the old in with the new.' but apparently that's not professional or something.

username ferrari is about to become the most attractive team on the grid. i take no complaints.

↳ username no you're absolutely right.

username what exactly are their qualifications to becoming an f1 driver's race engineer?

↳ username bianca is an MIT and columbia graduate, she has a phd in mechanical engineering and a masters in electrical engineering. harley is a columbia graduate with a masters in mechanical engineering and studying at MIT for a masters in computer science and engineering. if anything they're overqualified for the job. they've also developed few of the suits tony stark's uses. definitely more qualified than ricciardo and xavier.

↳ username that doesn't matter, we'll finally have a decent car and might even win the drivers/constructors championships.

charles_leclerc welcome to the team!

↳ biancastark_potts thanks, happy to be here!

↳ harleykeener thank you, even if i'm not your race engineer.

carlossainz55 bienvenidos!

↳ harleykeener gracias, mi amigo. (i don't speak spanish that well. we'll both be struggling through this, as you saw last week.)

↳ biancastark_potts good luck with him. thanks for the welcome!

liked by biancastark_potts, charles_leclerc, and peterbparker and other

scuderiaferrari you knew him as 4x world champion of red bull, you knew him as a ferrari driver, now you'll know him as ferrari's new team principal. ladies, gentleman, and non-binary folks, the formidable sebastian vettel is back!

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📍peterbparker not added was 'sorry not sorry we took your golden boy red bull' again, mrs. pepper potts-stark said that was unprofessional so i was forbidden from adding that. the urge to add a multi-21 joke in there was strong but i resisted.

↳ maxverstappen1 no need to rub it in. christian is crying. (i’m joking, he’s upset)

↳ peterbparker TU-TU-DU-DU MAX VERSTAPPEN!! (get me oscar piastri's number)

↳ maxverstappen1 no.

↳ peterbparker i'll settle for lando norris if you want. don't worry i'm not after either of your men (charles and danny)

↳ maxverstappen can i get you fired?

↳ biancastark_potts i've been trying since 2018 when he walked into my life. all i achieved was my parents emotionally adopting him.

username i fucking love this new ferrari admin. they're unhinged.

↳ peterbparker thanks, pepper does not find it as amusing. i've been told to keep it 'professional' until the season begins then i'm allowed to be unhinged.

username HE'S BACK! I KNEW RETIREMENT WOULDN'T LAST LONG.

username please tell me he is still caring for his bees. seb and his bees is iconic

↳ peterbparker proud to announce that seb and his bees will continue. we will be bringing awareness to the bees with every race. seb's buzzin' corner for every race? MR. STARK MAKE IT HAPPEN!

liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and tonystark and other

scuderiaferrari mood cause we're back! preseason testing begins in two days!

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📍peterbparker i'm allowed to shit post now people! the ban has been lifted! WAR IS OVER!

↳ peterbparker I'VE BEEN FOUND BY PIERRE GASLY. NOOO! HOW COULD I HAVE BECOME A VICTIM SO SOON?

username admin is acting like a teenager

↳ peterbparker i'm 20.

↳ maxverstappen1 that explains it.

↳ peterbparker so about piastri's number...

↳ maxverstappen1 no.

↳ harleykeener you have a girlfriend parker.

↳ peterbparker she doesn't need to know

↳ michellejones this is a public instagram post

username let's hope stark industries can deliver with all the hype surrounding them taking over ferrari's f1 team.

↳ username i just hope they aren't being overhyped, because if they fail to deliver they'll be such a dissapointment.

¡leclerc-s speaks! you can blame charles' shitty race for this story. other than that we won't speak further on the events of the us grand prix (i'm living in delusion) (congrats to logan for scoring his first points and congrats to williams for their double points!) i had been wanting to do a mcu x formula one crossover but i didn't have the motivation to do so until now (you can guess why).

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!