#intellectual high jack

[infinitysisters]

“The first thing to notice is that the student in the video pretends to be asking for the teacher's opinion but is in fact probing to find out if his teacher has the right opinion. That is, he's trying to find out if his teacher is part of "the people" or an "enemy of the people."

Bc of the power dynamic (the student is alone, particularly), he's unlikely to be able to initiate a struggle session, though he could deliver "criticism," in line with Mao Zedong Thought by accusing his teacher of being out of step with "the people's standpoint" on the issue.

His opener, though, where he pretends to be interested in the teacher's take or opinion is actually a test as to whether or not criticism needs to be delivered for having a wrong opinion. In other settings, it's the basis for shunning and even outright struggle sessions.

Struggle sessions were a form of psychosocial torture used by Maoist activists to humiliate and shame people who had the wrong opinions, trying to force them into conformity or into a process of thought reform ("ideological remolding"). Alternatively, it would just destroy them.

It's crucial to understand that this video opens with the student probing to find grounds to initiate criticism and struggle against the teacher. Had this gone differently, it's possible the teacher would face MANY students going after him later bringing vicious criticism.

You will find that with Maoist activism, the style is often to seem to probe what you think as a justification to rain opprobrium (struggle) down on you if you don't think what they want. It's very Hundred Flowers: let people speak so you can crush ideological enemies.

The Hundred Flowers Campaign (baihua qifang) was a time in the late 1950s when Mao encouraged free speech against his regime for a while then rounded up everyone who outed themselves as an "enemy" and sent them to be reeducated or die in the countryside (gulag).

The next thing to notice from the video is that the student hasn't formed his opinion about JK Rowling on the basis of any facts. It's what other people are saying. He's in the "outer circle" of the cult, like most people. He's locked in socially and emotionally ONLY.

You can tell this is the case for three reasons:

1) He presents it as such, lacking any substantive evidence;

2) He doesn't actually agree with the people's standpoint perfectly himself but defers to it;

3) He cannot articulate (intellectualize) WHY she's "transphobic."

If he were intellectually committed in addition to socially and emotionally locked ("inner school" of the cult), he would have been able to spout off any number of BS rationalizations for how Rowling is "transphobic" by stating the reality of sex. He can't, though.

This is important to recognize when it happens because people in the "outer school" of a cult are the most rescuable, as we see by the end of the video. They believe it because their social and emotional identities depend on it (so, hijacked psychosocial valuation schema).

A psychosocial valuation schema, by the way, is a method by which people evaluate themselves as good people (psycho-) or good members of a community (social). It's a fascinating subject, but Maoist "unity" through criticism and struggle (peer pressure) hijacks it, as seen here.

In short, the student is perceiving that if he has the wrong opinion about Rowling, he'll be a bad "community member" (ally), which means he's probably a bad person, worthy of shame, guilt, and exclusion, demanding he "do better." This dynamic is crucial to the cult brainwashing.

The teacher skillfully picks apart that this "outer school" cult member student doesn't know why he believes what he believes and forces him to think for himself, breaking him free from the Maoist psychosocial valuation schema for the duration of the exercise.

The next thing to observe is that the student later confesses to the fact that he personally sees nothing wrong with the statement but can see how others would find it problematic. That is, the psycho- part is breaking away from the -social part of the evaluation schema.

What he's expressing there is actually that he has adopted "the people's standpoint," as Mao called it. Wokes would call it "positionality" or "the standpoint of the oppressed" (yes, for those who know, "standpoint epistemology"). He knows he's supposed to see the world that way.

Psychologically for the student, this is the most dangerous and most important moment, and kudos to the teacher for effecting the deprogramming well. The reason is because the Maoist brainwashing program of "self-criticism" depends on the psycho- and -social being out of step.

The guilt and shame cycles in Maoist brainwashing, together with "leniency" or "love bombing" when people uphold the "people's standpoint" and criticism and struggle when they don't, are most powerful when the psycho- and -social parts disagree, not when they align.

The dynamic is to make the target feel like they're the only person who doubts "the people's standpoint." The student, in the wrong setting, would immediately feel alienated, alone, and ashamed that he knows "the people's standpoint" but secretly disagrees with it. This is key.

Maoism as a psychosocial brainwashing phenomenon requires "milieu control," such that the social group around you all publicly seems to perfectly hold to "the people's standpoint" so that each person believes they're the only one who thinks it's probably bogus.

In that state, you will "self-criticize" because you think something must be wrong with you. Indoctrination is external criticism. Conversion is self-criticism. Now note Robin DiAngelo saying "antiracism" is a lifelong commitment to self-reflection, self-critique, and activism.

In the end, the teacher breaks through, and the students sees not just that he was relying on "the people's standpoint" (psychosocial valuation) instead of his own critical thinking, and the teacher gives him space to feel accepting of "feeling like an idiot." That's very good.

In the Maoist environment, so with Woke teachers, the "people's standpoint" is pushed from the top, the interrogated "student" is urged to confess his sinful private doubts with increasing sincerity, and the social environment reinforces it all (to avoid their own struggle).

After breaking people down psychosocially this way and getting them to half-adopt and fully profess "the people's standpoint," the process enters another phase, xuexi, which means "study." That is, "outer school" cultists are pushed to become "inner school" cultists.

The point of "study" is to lead psychosocially locked people into intellectual rationalization, where the student would have been able to rattle off a litany of robotic-sounding theory (thought-terminating cliches and rationalizations) for how Rowling IS "transphobic."

That not only keeps them hermetically sealed (iykyk) in the cult, making deprogramming FAR harder and rarer, it also creates a demonstration for "outer school" members who can be convinced that their beliefs have intellectual foundations they just don't understand yet.”

- James Lindsay

[johnbrand]

Do You Want to Pump, Bro?

It was a simple question, one that should have been sufficed by a simple “yes” or “no” response. And yet Dylan had no idea how to respond. He had just been opening up Snapchat for the simple maneuvers: run through all the pictures, spam his responses back. The habit took a max of 30 seconds and then he was done for the day, but when he landed on his friend’s snap, prompting the question at hand, Dylan had no response.

It was strange how captivating the picture was. It was still displayed on Dylan’s phone, the picture of his friend all jocked up. Dylan could have sworn his friend had been a gay little nerd just like himself, nothing but a runt that the rest of their colleagues could pick on. But the boy, no, man Snapchat had presented him with was certainly his friend. The brutally masculine, dominating alpha Dylan had known all his life. There was no filter, no added touches, Dylan’s friend was simply the epitome of young manhood. Tanned, muscular, and rightfully superior.

This left Dylan to begin considering what his friend had meant by the question. Maybe his friend was referring to working out, using “pump” in the sense of stretching and exercising one’s muscles. But what did Dylan have to pump? With his scrawny features he was certainly better fit for intellectual over manual labor. His hands were meant to be glued to the keyboard, their features perfect for typing.

Well, not perfect. Dylan’s hands could be a bit clumsy. Being that they were so big, so meaty, his sausage fingers often had a hard time hitting the right keys. It did not help that his arms would often get in the way, so bulky that they would rub up against anything they touched. His sides, other people, Dylan even struggled to get through older doorways. Veiny forearms leading into bulging biceps and triceps, which only expanded his shoulders to accommodate. Dylan was just a wider guy.

And it was not only the fault of Dylan’s arms, to be clear. His torso too was quite the menace. That previously mentioned wide set of shoulders stretched out Dylan’s entire upper chest, structuring a powerful collarbone to perfectly align two plump pectorals. Yes, those were perfect. So firm and pronounced that they sometimes obstructed Dylan’s view if he looked down, which being 6’6 was a considerably long distance. “Perfect” was often also used to describe Dylan’s abdominals, the eight cobblestones stacked sharply beside each other as if they were metal batteries fueling his core.

So what was his friend referring to? Something about the question was catching Dylan’s eye. The swirls within the letters of the font were soothing, absorbing. Maybe his legs? Although Dylan had to admit they were already pretty jacked. Yeah, his quads were carved, his muscles expertly sharp and prominent and never covered by any shorts longer than five inches. Leading past his knees into diamond-shaped calves, admired by other gym-goers constantly. Not only was he tall, but Dylan was built. He had worked hard since high school to prevent his massive legs from becoming stick-like. 

Sure, sometimes he had prioritized getting in a sick workout over anything else, like spending time with the bros or in class, but it had worked out in the end. Without that extra effort, Dylan would not have been able to brag about his entire figure. From the giant-sized feet to the perfect lantern jaw. There it was again, that word, perfect. Dylan smirked to himself as he mentally listed other things about him that were perfect. His perfectly musky pits, his perfectly sultry baritone. People loved Dylan’s perfectly sculpted locks, and his perfectly sculpted buttocks. And the lucky ones got to love his perfect giant balls and cock.

Dylan felt his mighty python grow hard at that idea. Yeah, maybe that was what his bro was referring to. Maybe his bro wanted to pump his cock. But with that thought, Dylan’s boner faltered. No, his bro wanted to find some chicks to pump their cocks. Nothing gay or anything, just two bros getting laid together. Dylan’s cocky sneer grew wider as he began to palm himself. Yeah, his babymaker could use some attention. But, to be fair, it could always use some attention. Especially from some busty, airheaded bimbos.

Finally closing the picture from his bro, Dylan adjusted himself and casually flexed before snapping his reply shot. His massive fingers typed out the question on their own, filling out the preordered prompt before pressing the send button. Dylan did not realize though that instead of just replying to his bro, he had sent it to all his Snapchat contacts. But he did not care, he had better things to worry about. Like pumping his muscles, and getting some babes to pump his cock.

[sam24]

Metal Arm Cupid

Summary: Bucky didn't know what to expect in the 21st century. But he definitely didn't expect cute girls to barge into meeting rooms and beat people up.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

*****

Bucky made no attempt to stifle his yawn as he pretended to listen to the debrief (that was looking more like an argument to him) that was going on way too long for his liking, earning a sharp glare from Steve, but Bucky could tell that deep down, Steve wanted to hightail outta there too.

“Stop taking all the credit, Josh. I was the one who stabbed him. You just sat there and watched like an obese cow.”

Josh (Bucky thought his name was Jack until now) scoffed. “That’s Agent 16 to you, Avery.”

“It’s actually Avril, you little-”

“Agents, you better stop this instantly.” Fury narrowed his eyes at the bickering partners.

“Stop embarrassing me in front of the Avengers, Evelyn, and let me do the talking. Clearly you can’t because of those oversized donkey teeth of yours.” Josh paid no heed to Fury.

The girl (Avril?) gasped and her hand instinctively flew to cover her mouth. “Why you-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” A dangerously calm voice rang through the room.

All eyes flew towards Natasha, you looked like she was going to murder the next person who opened their mouth.

“This is why I don’t go on missions with sensitive baby agents.” She muttered in Russian.

Bucky cracked a smile.

“How come no one listens to me?” Fury grumbled.

“Probably because you aren’t a trained assassin with 20 different weapons hidden on your body, and I bet you also don’t know 5 different ways to kill someone with an oven mitt.” Clint whispered in Fury’s ear.

“It doesn’t matter who stabbed who, it matters what happened in the end. And in the end, I was the one you saved your ungrateful asses, so you can stop arguing like toddlers now.” Natasha growled.

Her eyes narrowed specifically at Josh.

Nobody spoke. Probably because no sane person wanted a bullet from Natasha’s gun in their head.

“You seriously couldn’t have done that 20 minutes ago?”

Of course, though, Tony Stark was far from sane.

“Shut up, Tony.” At least 5 different people said at the same time.

Josh cleared his throat, recovering from his mini paralysis stroke.

“No offense, but-”

Before Josh could get himself killed, loud voices outside of the door made everyone turn.

Honestly, they all probably would’ve turned even to watch a fly so they could ignore Josh’s excuses.

“Miss, I can’t let you-”

“I really don’t care, so move. Now.”

Bruce immediately sat up. “Is that Ace?”

“Oh, thank god.” Tony let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “I’m so bored right now, maybe she’ll make this actually interesting.”

Even though Bucky’s stay at the compound started recently, he had heard plenty of stories about you, the infamous ‘Ace’. To what he’d heard, you worked at the lab with Bruce and Tony, like a daughter to them both. You were an ‘intellectual sage’ (described by Barton), hence the nickname, Ace.

“I said, MOVE!”

“Banner, what is the meaning of this?” Fury ordered.

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows and completely ignored him. “What in the world is she doing?”

“Banner!”

“I SAID MOVE, DAMNIT.” A loud thud followed closely and the door was flung open so hard it practically ripped off of its hinges.

“Lord have mercy.” Bruce buried his face into his hands as you barged into the room, pulling along a terrified looking girl behind you.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised with interest as he took in your purple highlights, Converse High-Tops, and Gravity Falls shirt peeking out from under your lab coat.

“Look, missy, in case you haven’t noticed, this is a private meeting. I’m going to give you 5 seconds to leave before I have you escorted out instantly.” Fury demanded.

“Yeah, that’s cool, Patchy the Pirate, just give me a minute.” You weren’t even looking at Fury as you scanned the room.

“Ha! Patchy the Pirate! Laura’s gonna love this!” Clint smacked his hand on the table and leaned his chair back (and almost fell backwards if Steve didn’t catch it, but that’s not the point).

Fury looked like he was seriously contemplating life as you still didn’t spare him a glance, and your narrowed hawk eyes landed on someone behind Bucky.

He followed your gaze to meet Josh, who had raised two fingers in the air cockily to greet you and the girl behind you.

“Josh, you mother fucker.”

And before Steve could say ‘language!’ (yes, Bucky had caught on pretty quickly after Tony would say it every other sentence), you had crossed the room in what felt like just two strides and socked Josh right in the jaw.

The room erupted in chaos.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Steve was up on his feet in a millisecond, his Captain America side taking over.

“That’s it, honey! Do it again!” Tony cheered.

“Is this some kind of Midgardian greeting that I have not yet been informed of?”

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on in my own meeting!”

“That was the best thing I’ve seen in my whole life.” Avril grinned.

Natasha didn’t say anything, but her face clearly said ‘girl, me too’.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” Sam chuckled from next to Bucky.

“Same.” Bucky muttered under his breath.

“Whoa hold up, did you just agree with me??”

“Shut up, pigeon brain.”

“Excu-”

The only thing that stopped Sam and Bucky’s cat fight was another punch to Josh’s precious face, this time right in the nose.

Bruce tried to reason with you from across the whole ass room, practically shouting over all the commotion as Steve tried to pull you away from Josh.

“Ace, sweetheart, why don’t you talk it out instead of going straight to violence? Doesn’t that sound like a better idea?”

“Sounds great, Bruce, but that’s not an option anymore!” You shouted back over your shoulder.

“Look, champ, it’s not right to randomly punch people like that!” Steve was still trying to pry you away from Josh.

“Look, Pops,” You mocked. “It’s also not right to cheat on your girlfriend with some random chick you ran into at a bar!”

Everything stopped.

Except Josh’s struggling from your grasp.

“He cheated on you?” Tony broke the silence, looking like he was going to blast Josh into outer space. “Wait, when were you guys even together? And why in the goddamn world would you date that guy?”

“Not me, dimwit, her.” You point your free hand that was not gripped on Josh’s collar at the girl behind you, looking ready to sprint out of there when all eyes landed on her.

“Just leave it, ma moitié, it’s not worth it.” She said quietly, her words coated in a thick french accent.

Bucky recognized her as the nice agent who gave him a coffee last week after Sam ‘accidentally’ knocked over Bucky’s.

“Just leave it? Absolutely not, hun!”

“Listen to her, Ace.” Bruce pleaded.

“No! This sleazy bastard cheated on my best friend! No fucking way! Literally, who the hell would cheat on a cute french girl?”

“Ace, violence isn’t the right way to-”

“Excuse me?” Josh’s voice rang out, sounding like someone was holding his nose closed shut. “Can someone get me an ice pack?”

You whipped around towards him.

“You. Want. An. Ice pack.” You restated, shooting daggers- no, 7 inch sharp kitchen knives at him.

“My nose hurts.” Josh rolled his eyes. “Y’know, after you turned all Crazy Psycho Lady on me and broke it.”

“You know what?” Your smile dripped with bitterness and sarcasm. “How about I punch it again so it’ll go numb and it won’t hurt anymore?”

You reached your arm backwards to land another punch, but Steve rushed to grab you again, and the chaos resumed.

Tony was instructing you to “kick Steve in the balls and resume beating the shit out of Josh”, while Bruce was very strongly vetoing the idea.

Sam and Clint, meanwhile, were placing bets on how much the medical bill was gonna be.

Suddenly, Bruce rushed over to Bucky.

“Look, man, you gotta help me.”

Bucky looked at Bruce with wide eyes. “Me?”

“Yeah! If you tell her to stop, she would in a heartbeat!”

“Why?” Bucky knew where this was going.

“Because of your metal arm!”

Bucky’s heart sank. Of course you were scared of it. Everyone was. They thought it made him a monster.

So did he.

Even though he was so, so grateful to Shuri for trying to help him feel like a new person with a new arm that wasn’t associated with HYDRA, that bloody ruthless murderer that they made him into never seemed to leave.

He would always be him.

No matter how hard he tried, the memories followed him like a lost puppy, attacking at night when he was trying to sleep.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never shake off the imprint HYDRA had left on him.

No matter how hard he tried or how much Steve told him otherwise, Bucky was still a monster.

A cruel, cold-hearted, evil monster who killed the innocent.

Who killed innocent men, women, and children who didn’t deserve to be killed.

He was the one who deserved to be killed.

“She’s absolutely obsessed with it!”

Bucky choked on his spit.

“Wha-w-what?”

“She adores it.” Bruce rushed. “She says it’s, and I quote, the most beautiful and extraordinary thing to ever be made in history.”

Okay, so apparently Bucky did not know where that was going.

“Still not convinced?” Bruce groaned. “She thinks it’s the most amazing thing in the galaxy. She says it’s the ‘peak of engineering’. You can ask Tony if you still don’t believe me.”

Tony wasn’t extremely fond of Bucky, and neither was Bucky of him, so he decided to take Bruce’s word for it, no matter how much it shocked him.

She likes my arm?

Just because she likes your arm doesn’t mean she likes you, idiot.

“Uh, okay? So, um, what do I do?”

“Tell her to stop!” Bruce lightly shoved Bucky forward when he slowly got up out of his seat.

Bucky hesitantly took a step forward, his mind still trying to process everything.

Bucky maneuvered around Steve, tapping you - who was still out to get it for Josh- on the shoulder after a moment of hesitation.

“Bruce, I already told you, it’s too late-” You spun out of Steve’s grip, but your mouth dropped open when you realized it was not Bruce.

You stared at Bucky with wide eyes. But not out of fear.

Out of adoration.

He was struck with a sudden flash of nostalgia of how his mom looked at him when he gave her a card for Mother’s Day when he was 6.

"Oh, Jamie, I love it.” She had said as she read it with a soft smile.

And that same smile was on your face. “Um, hi there.”

He smiled back.

But not one of those fake smiles he put on to make Steve happy. An actual genuine smile.

And it felt good.

You smoothed out your coat, taking in a breath. “Can I help you?”

Steve stared at the two of you, a grin spreading onto his face.

“I’m not surprised. Those psychos are perfect for each other.” Josh rolled his eyes.

Neither of you heard him.

“Hi, I’m Bucky.”

“She knows.” Tony groaned.

“Shut up, Tony.” Your eyes never left Bucky’s. “Hi Bucky.”

He saw your eyes light up as they made their way to look at his metal arm.

Bruce cleared his throat loudly.

“So, um, Ace. The arm has been giving me a bit of trouble recently. I was wondering if you could maybe take a look at it?” Bucky glanced at Bruce before looking back at you.

“He means now.” Bruce added.

You looked like you were going to faint out of excitement.

“Y-yeah, of course.”

Bruce let out a loud sigh of relief.

“Um, actually.” Bucky started.

Bruce’s head shot up and started mouthing something to Bucky - probably something along the lines of ‘No! Get her out of here before she kills him!’- but he was busy looking at you.

“Maybe you wanna grab a coffee first?”

[intuitively-her]

What do they think of your voice?

Pile 1-(Ace of swords, The High Priestess, The Hierophant rx, Page of pentacles, 7 of pentacles, 2 of pentacles, Knight of cups rx, Judgement) *zodiac confirmations: gemini, 8, venus

I'm picking up on multiple energies tbh. Your voice is attractive to many. It's smooth and sexy. You easily swoon your romantic partners with your way of words. I get the vibe that you're an important figure in your workplace. Like maybe you have to speak up a lot in meetings or you're called to do a lot of projects. If so, that's because you're the only person on your team that's trusted to do it the right way. You definitely reap the benefits of the work you put in. Many people listen and look up to you. You may speak up about discrepancies in your workplace or you speak out a lot about controversial topics in general. People really commend you for that. You don't beat around the bush with what you need to say. I heard "I said what I said" 🤣. People sometimes feel smaller in your presence. You're very knowledgeable and trusted by others. It's intimidating.

🩷channeled messages: manipulative, promiscuous, stuck-up, big boobs, uptight, sexy voice, naive, intimidating, trustworthy, confident, competitive, wife, neighbor, husband, sister

Pile 2-(9 of swords rx, 7 of cups, 4 of wands, 3 of cups, 4 of pentacles, The Hermit rx, 7 of swords) *zodiac confirmations: gemini, 12, moon

This is another pile with multiple energies. The vibe you bring is so refreshing. You really help bring calmness into anxious situations, especially social ones. It's something about the way your voice carries. People notice how you're not scared to speak up and take the lead. There is one person I'm picking up on in particular tho. This could be a friend or acquaintance that you have a crush on. I keep getting something about playful banter? or maybe you or this person likes to tell dumb jokes lol. You have a very fun and welcoming energy. People love how you can mix and mingle with many different people. You may like to party or you're just out a lot. There's something about you that makes people realize that there's more to life. Like you help them see the bigger picture in situations. A lot of people become really obsessed with you. You really don't even have to say much. It's mostly your energy.

🩷channeled messages: feline eyes, extrovert, charming, big butt, charismatic, obsessive, wet, possessive, karmic, coworker, sidechick/side mans

Pile 3-(The Star, Justice, 5 of wands, 10 of wands rx, 6 of cups rx, The Moon rx, The Fool, 2 of cups, 5 of pentacles) *zodiac confirmations: taurus, 1, neptune

Im picking up on a close friend of yours, or someone you've recently started talking to romantically/platonically. You could be a public speaker or advocate for something. You fight for what's right and you're not afraid to speak up against others. You may like to debate with others a lot. Some of you may also like to protest. Your tone is very mature and straight to the point. You like to expose the truth about things. You could work within the justice system or maybe you're studying it? I keep hearing "law school". You're unpredictable to others. I heard "jack of all trades" I think maybe people don't expect you to be as blunt as you are or to have as much knowledge as you do.

🩷channeled messages: competitive, narcissistic, sexy, beautiful hair, kind, mixed signals, intellectual, rude, funny, shit talker, boss, older woman, "single white female", fake friend, red hair, younger woman, big lips, older man

Pile 4-(King of cups, Queen of swords, 3 of pentacles, 7 of swords rx, Knight of wands rx, 6 of swords rx, 7 of cups rx, The World, 9 of wands rx) *zodiac confirmations: cancer, 11, pluto

Your tone may come off a little harsh at times. You tend to give people a reality check. I don't think you do this to be mean tho. I think you may feel like it's the only way you can get your point across at times. You're quick to tell someone off. I also feel like you're able to read people and situations pretty easily. Some people feel like you hold onto anger. This could be family or people close to you. I feel like a lot of these people misunderstand you a lot. Like a lot of what you do or say is taken out of context. You can actually be very compassionate and caring at times. Im picking up on a sneaky link energy. I feel like you may keep the sweet parts of yourself hidden tho. You hide your true self from people a lot and you don't really follow the crowd. People notice this.

🩷channeled messages: egotistical, intuitive, cheerful, pretty skin/skin tone, cold, sarcastic, big d*ck, tall, loud, short, moles/birthmark, lean body, freckles, mental illness, one night stand, player, brother, soulmate, ex-friend

[spider-man-199999]

Paris to Tokyo

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+; academic rivals to lovers

word count: 5K

warnings: smut; slight angst; unpotected sex

summary: You start your new life at college, expecting it to be the most exciting time of your life, only to be met with Peter Parker, who decided to dedicate his free time to making your life a living hell

a/n: I've been dying to write an enemies to lovers type of fic, it's also my first time writing anything with suggestive content in it, so bear with me please. The heading is the most random thing I could come up with I'm sorry

College was the place you were looking forward to the most since you graduated high school. It was supposed to be a place where you met people with similar interest, went out with them to have fun and engage in intellectual converstaions. And it was exactly like that, for the most part. Growing up as a natuarally intelligent kid had you been putting little to no effort in school and always got you good grades. This quickly escalated into you trying a bit harder with each test and striving for more academic validation. At some point you even managed to become the best student in your class. But sitting hours on end on a desk and studying was still something very foreign to you. Sure, you would revise from time to time on topics that were harder to remember or things you couldn't recall from class, but it never went further than that. And maybe a degree in Biophysic was not the wisest idea given that backgroung. So, when college came around and you started the new classes on topics your common knowledge could barely help you keep up with, things went downhill very fast. For the first time you were faced with faliure, hard work and putting hours on end to study. It felt like everyone around you was more knowledgeable, more prepared, more educated on literally any topic that was discussed in and outside of class. Being at the bottom of the academic foodchain was mildy infuriating, to say the least.

And after the first few months of sleepless nights, filling up all of the holes so you could catch up to speed, you finally did it, and it felt more rewarding than anything else. This assisted you into making casual conversations with so many people from your different classes, one of them even inviting you to a study group that had been going on for months. You happily agreed to that idea, thinking it would be the best way to keep up with everyone in the class, not only academically but socically as well.

The day of the study group finally arrived on what seemed like the most normal, yet the most exciting Tuesday. They added you to a groupchat, everyone texting back and forth until all of you had agreed to go grab a coffee before heading to the library. You had tried your best to look presentable for this study date, putting on some white wide-leg dress pants and a neat navy blue t-shit that hugged your body very well. You hair was in a sleek bun, having a white buttonup because the weather was slightly chilly. Almost everyone had arrived there on time, which took you by surprise since you were used to being the only one being on time. After the cheerful greeting and formally learning everyone's names, you went inside and grabbed a coffee, returning to them promptly. You stood by the door, since the group had formed a circle around the entrance of the small shop.

"Was I the last one?" You asked concerned, looking around and counting the people.

"Actually, we're waiting for Peter" Someone said, everyone giggling softly and shaking their head.

"Who's Peter?" You asked, and as soon as you did, you felt something push againt your shoulder, sending you a step forward so you wouldn't come crashing down from losing your balance.

"I'M SO SORRY" you heard from behind you, turning around to see a boy with a worried expression on his face, paper cup in his hand. He was handsome, hair pushed back, warm eyes and nervous smile, leather jacked over a black t-shirt.

"That's Peter" someone stated, pulling you out of your trance. Peter chuckled, moving past you and motioning for everyone to go, since he was the one you all had been waiting for.

On the walk there you kept staring at the back of Peter's head, annoyed that he pushed you with the door, frusrated because he didn't even bother to introduce himself to you. Not that he really had to, you already knew well enough who he was. The guy who always came in rushing because he was late, somehow still managed to sit directly in front of you, blocking your view, no matter where you sat. He was the guy that would beat you to every question, the one who would always have the best grade on the tests. He leaned way too back in his seat, back pressed to your desk, pushing it, as you would try to keep up with writing everything down. And he would always ask you for a pen, every single time.

The study room was spacious and bright, it had a big round table for everyone to sit at, as well as two whiteboards and plenty or outlests for chargers and what not. It looked like the perfect place to study with a large group, excluding the fact Peter was there as well. You all took random seats around the table, Parker sitting across from you, almost as if it were on purpose. You held back an eye roll when he smiled at you cockily, making you look away and take out your laptop and notebook from your bag. The screen managed to block out most of Peter's face if you sink into your seat low enough. The conversation in the room flowed naturally, it was so interesting and engaging and you were having a blast speaking to these people. Soon enough all of you had solved the first homework questions, you quickly grabbing a pen and writing it down in your notebook. As you were in the middle of writing, an outside force closed your laptop. Your eyes looked at the laptop, seeing a pale male hand, fingers spread. You stared at it for a few seconds, noticing how pretty the hand actually was, long and straight fingers, follwed by a slim wrist and a muscular forearm. Your gaze trailed the hand up to Peter's face, looking into his eyes with annoyance already.

"Hey, do you-" before he even managed to finished his sentence, you had taken out a pen from your pencil case and placed it on your laptop, next to his hand.

"Thank you" he muttered, you not even looking back at him. This routine, as much as it was annoying, gave you some kind of comfort as well.

"How come you never have a pen with you?" You asked after a while, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Oh, well actually I do have one, it's easier to just use yours"

''Unbelieveble"

"Come on, like you would ever need a second pen for anything"

You hovered over the table and grabbed the pen from his hand in a swift motion, he looked a bit taken a back, as well as the few people following your interaction.

"Actually, I need it now" you said, putting the one you were using away and continuing your writing with the one you just got back from him.

"You're being unbelieveble now" He said slightly irritated, reaching to get his won pen from his backpack.

"The two of you, cut it out, you're acting like children!" someone shushed you, making you blush when you realised it wasn't just you and the curly-haired boy in the room.

You gulped softly, mummbling a sorry to everyone as you kept writing down.

"Us cut it out? She was the one acting like a child, making a big deal out of a pen!" Peter whined and complained, starting to write down things in his notebook after he got a few angry glares from other people.

Around the time the group got to the third and final question for the homework you were feeling confident enough to try to contribute to the assignment.

"So you're basically saying that principle of hemodialysis is the same as other methods of dialysis - it involves diffusion of solutes across a semipermeable membrane?" you asked, as you were brainstorming through the question.

"Oh come on, y/n, this is the easiest question so far!'' Peter said, leaning froward, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Ever since the pen situation, he's been worse than ever before, taking every opportunity to show of how much smarter he was, followed by a cocky smirk.

"Intermittent dialysis therapy is used in chronic uremia to re-establish body water solute concentrations that cannot be achieved by the natural organ. In this sense, the dialyzer becomes an artificial kidney and it is through the transport of substances by this device that chemical and biophysical control consistent with continued survival is achieved." He explained, solving the question for you.

"She had it figured out, you could have let her be" Someone you didn't remember the name of said to him, making Peter's head turn in that direction.

"She obviously didn't, keep in mind her highest grade is my lowest" He snapped back.

You could feel the tension in the atmosphere thicken with each second, things were about to escalate very quickly. His words stung a bit and you felt something like a ball stuck in your throat after he said them. He didn't know how much work you had put in and he was incosiderate enough to just assume the worst of you. Before things managed to get any further, or worse, out of control, you slammed your thick notebook shut.

"Since Peter was kind enough to solve the last question, I think I'm going to call it a night" you said, fighting back the tears. Your voice gave you away as it wa slightly shaky, earning a few sympatheric looks.

You shoved your things in the bag as quickly as you as possible and walked out, trying to get as far away as possible. You were trying not to break down the whole walk back to your dorm, bitting your lip, brushing away some stray tears that ran down your cheeks with your sleeve. You were mentally blaming yourself for everything, for not walking fast enough, for not knowing enough, for deciding to join the study group, for even deciding on this degree to begin with. By the time you made it to your room, your phone was already blown up by text messages from Natalie, the person who originally invited you. She was a small blonde, blue-eyed beauty that was just as smart as she was pretty. You could bet on your own life that she was class president and the prom queen in high school. She was more than kind to you this whole time and her text messages suggested that she was worried about you too. With a quick click you deleted all the messages from your notification centre and threw the phone on your bed, followed by your bag. Hot tears ran down your face, breathing heavily as you were preactically sobbing at this point. You sat down on the floor, not being able to hold in the frustrstion anymore as you finally broke down, letting all of the shame, pain and anger flow out of your system through your tears.

A couple of hours had gone by, your tears were dried up on your face and neck as you lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling. Your phone kept buzzing from time to time and you finally gathered the emotional strenght to reply to the messages. Sitting on the bed, you unlocked the device and scrolled through the unred chats. The groupchat had sent the written solutions for the questions. Natalie had probably sent you 20 messages apologising and asking if you were okay. The guy who defended you had also sent you a message. His name was Brad and he looked like any normal person did. You texted him first, thanking him for standing up for you even though he did not need to do that. After him it was Natalie, who called you immediately after you hit send to reply to her first message. You picked up hesitantly, since you knew your voice was definitely going to sound like you had been crying.

"I am so sorry for everything! If I knew you and Peter were on bad terms I wouldn't have done this to you" She immediately spat out

"It's okay, I we aren't on bad terms, well... weren't"

"Have you been crying?"

"No..."

"I'm really sorry! I spoke to him after the whole thing, he's usually nothing like this! He himself couldn't explain why he acted like this"

"Nat, I really, really don't care"

"He said he wanted to make it up to you! He asked me himself for your number and your dorm room!"

"Please tell me you didn't give him any of that information"

"Well..."

"Oh my god now he knows where I live" you whined, bringing your knees up to your chest and hugging them.

"He wanted to apologise! He looked very sincere and worried"

"Yes, all the psychopaths do, that's why they're so hard to recognize!"

"I'm sure he wouldn't just show up at your door trying to make amends, you'll be fine, plus he's a really cool dude, give him a chance to prove he's not an asshole"

"He had his chance, it was today"

After you two said your goodbyes and hung up, you deicided it was finally time to take a relaxing shower. As you walked out, you heard a knock on your door. Still wrapped in a towel, one hand holding it in place, you opened the door to a Peter Parker, leaning on the doorframe. You blinked a few times rapidly, trying to process what you were seeing.

"Why are you here?" You asked, after carefully calculating your tone and your words

"You weren't picking up your phone" he replied, trying to step a foot inside. You blocked his action with the door.

"I didn't say you could come in"

"Can I come in then?"

"No, good night Parker" With that you tried closing the door on him but he grabbed it, not letting you close it.

"Look, I'm here to apologise for what I said earlier. You don't have to forgive me"

"And I don't, go Peter"

He looked shatter at your words looking into his brown eyes, you almost felt sympathy for him, like he really did feel sorry about what he did. Despite that, you kept your composure, looking at him with all the resentmet you had for him, a sigh leaving his lips as he let go of the door. He didn't need superpowers to know he fucked up, so he left. And you on the other hand, were more devistated than before, but your ego was bruised and your self-esteem ruined. The only person, no matter how annoying, you didn't want to think less of you, thought less of you. Yes, it was good that he wanted to apologise but this was not going to undo his words and the image he obviously had. You didn't even know if the apology really was his idea or was forced on him by the others in the group. You shook you head, dismissing the thoughts as you got ready to sleep. Sleep always helped with heavy emotions and you hoped you would feel better in the morning.

A few weeks went by and you still refused to forgive Peter for what he said. In your heart, you knew he was really sorry at this point but you enjoyed his suffering as you roasted him slowly on low heat. He tried all the cliché ways, buying flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, buying you coffee before every study date. Your neighbours were convinced that the two of you were dating and would always ask about him when you gathered in one of the rooms to eat together or drink. You denied that but they rolled their eyes and never believed. In the mean time Brad tried to get closer to you, even inviting you on a date. You accepted hesitantly, since your heart seemed to be someplace else, liking all of the effort and attention from Parker more than it should. You told Natalie about the date, the two of you had become very close, spending a lot of time together, which often resulted in Brad and Peter tagging along. To say the boys were not getting along would be an understatement. Eyes throwing daggers at each other with every glance, snarky, rude comments were exchanged back and forth. But when you told the pretty blonde about Brad, she was more than excited about it finally happening . She would go on and on about how she knew he liked you ever since the first study session you had together and how he had a very heated fight with Peter after you left. You were grateful for him and what he did, and somehow it still felt wrong to be going out with him.

The night of the date had arrived and you were almost ready, putting in your earrings as you heard a knock on your door. You took a quick look in the full lenght mirror, fixing the long black dress you were wearing. It had a long slit on the left side, exposing your leg, no sleeves and a turtle neck. You had tied your hair in a ponytail, so your light make up would be more visible in the muffled evening lights of wherever he was planning to take you. You opened the door, still not wearing your chunky leather boots but just stockings.

"I thought we were going to meet in front of the library" you said as you opened the door but to your sursprise, someone else was standing there.

"You're not going on that date" Peter said firmly, almost as a command

"You're the last person that's going to tell me what to do" You snapped back at him "Why are you here Parker?"

He walked inside, closing the door behind himself. Peter seemed slightly distressed, looking you up and down with a dark expression.

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, leaning his back against the door, his arms behind him as he looked down at his feet. "Or do you just want to hurt me by going out with the guy I like least? Like really? All the guys are in your feet and you decide to go out with Brad, and look as gorgeous as this."

You could hear the annoyance and sadness in his voice, a bit taken a back from all of the things he just said to you. He just loved doing that, didn't he? Saying the most obnoxious things to make you feel bad about yourself.

"Wait, what?" was all you managed to say, taking a few steps back until your butt pressed agains your desk, making you stop. Books and make up palletes were scattred on it. Peter looked up at you, smiling weakly.

"I've liked you, this whole time" he confessed, staring directly into your eyes "Please, don't go on that date"

"Make me" you said faintly, surprised by how you almost whispered it. There was no way he could have heard that. But somehow he did, taking a few rapid steps towards and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I'll make you forget everyone else but me" he whispered in your ear.

Feeling his hot breath near your face made your heart beat faster, one of your hands resting against his upper arm, looking up into his eyes. You were having a hard time processing what was actually happening, a sudden fear it was one of his games to make fun of you. You tried pushing him away after the realization, but his grip on your waist tightened.

"I'm serious, y/n" he said "I've liked you since I saw you, and I would make everyone sit away from you so I could be near, I would ask you for a pen so I could talk to you. And I tried to show off because I wanted to impress you, I wanted you to think I'm smarter so you could ask me for help in class."

For some reason you believed him, nodding lightly to let him know that. He lifted you up with one arm, sitting you on top of the desk. You were having a hard time vocalizing what you were feeling but you didn't want him to feel awkward because of your silence. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand falling on your exposed leg. You looked down at where his hand was, your skin burning with desire to be touched by him more. Your eyes met his again, his filled with hopefullness and lust. He got closer, titling his head to the side and he kissed you softly and sweetly. You returned the kiss, hands cupping his face and bringing him closer to you. Peter deepened the kiss, turning it in a heated make out session as one of his hands romed around your leg, going up your dress so he could touch more of you and the other one placed on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. You spread your legs, pulling him by the belt so he could position himself between them, your hands going to his hair and playing with his messy curls as your lips and tongues danced against each other. After what seemed like a forever of heated, hungry kisses and filty touching, you broke the kiss so you could catch your breath. You panted havily, chest rising up and down rapidly. Peter pressed his forehead against yours, both of you closing your eyes to collect yourselves.

"Should I at lest text Brad and tell him I'm not going?"

"Well, there goes my hard on"

You hit his chest lightly, both of you giggling at his stupid joke. He looked around, noticing your phone that was charging on the bed, moving away from you to grab it and hand it to you. You unlocked the phone trying to find your chat with Brad while Peter found his previous position, viciously attacking your jaw and neck with kisses. You tried your best to be concentrated and write a normal message, but made a few spelling mistakes nonetheless. Peter nibbled on your neck, which earned him a slight flinch from your side.

“Peter, please, we’re not 16, no hikeys”

He ignored your words, continuing his act the way he had planned it, kissing, licking and sucking on your soft skin while you begged him to stop. His hands were all over your body once again, touching everything that was exposed to him, one hand travelling further up your leg than before, almost landing on your ass but hesitantly stopping. You noticed his uncertainly, pressing your cheek against his so you could whisper in his ear.

“Don’t stop now, Peter” you breathed in his ear, your own hands exploring his body.

He didn’t waste a second after that, grabbing your butt in his hand and pressing his lips against yours. Your hands moved under his shirt, touching his toned stomach. Your were quite shocked to what your fingertips were pressed up against, not expecting him to be as muscular as he actually was. You knew he worked out because you had seen his toned arms in a t-shirt too many times for your own good, but you were definitely not expecting that. Hands quickly slipped him out of his jacket, reaching to pull up his shirt in the heat of the moment but he stopped you, moving slightly away. Your lipstick was smudged all over his mouth and it made you giggle.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked you, his hands finding their way back to your waist. You nodded, undeniably longing for him and his touch, his presence.

“Good, because if we keep this up any longer, I probably won’t be able to hold back” Peter muttered, removing his shirt and tossing it on the floor before he pulled you in again, kissing you.

You took that as a signal that you had to get undressed as well, reaching for the hem of your dress pulling it up. He grabbed your hands when he noticed the act, stopping you from doing what you had planned so he could do it himself. Suddenly you felt the cold air from the room against your skin, along with Peter's warm hands, making you shiver. You undid his belt, helping him pull his pants down, breaking your kiss in the process. You laughed soflty at how he was jumping on one leg while he was trying to kick his pants off, shaking your head.

"What?" He asked

"Nothing, nothing, I'm really missing a date right now for you jumping on one leg to get out of your pants" you bursted out laughing, him joining you shortly after.

"No, it's going to get so much better, trust me" He stated, grabbing you and lifting you up, throwing you on the bed. You squeaked softly from his actions, not expecting it. Soon enough he had your hands pinned down with his, hovering over you. A soft gulp at the sight from you made him chuckle, kissing on your neck once again. He had already left a mark there, starting to suck on a second spot next it.

"Peter really! It's going to be so hard to cover them up" you whined, secretly enjoying his lips and teeth on your skin like this.

He looked at your face, smiling viciously at you.

"I just want people to know you had a good time"

"Yeah, with Brad? I was suppsed to be on a date with him" you teased him, chuckling softly. His expression changed suddenly, he seemed almost angry. His hands let go of your wrists, travelling down your skin as he reached the hem of your panties. His fingers played with the hem of them before slipping in under the thin fabric, the middle finger going between your folds. He could feel how wet you actually were, making him smirk with that cocky smile he had, looking into your eyes. You were holding back a small moan from his touch, looking at his pretty face.

"Can Brad make you this wet baby?" He asked.

You shook your head no, keeping eye contact with him. His middle finger started moving up and down tesing your clit before entering you slowly. This time you couldn't hold back and you moaned, closing your eyes. His smile remained present as he insedted a second finger inside of you, starting to move his hand teasingly slow. Your body squirming underneath him, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, rocking his hips against your leg while he fingered you. You could feel his erection through his boxers, making you even more needy than you already were.

"Parker" you moaned out softly, remembering your hands were actually free and you could move them, immediately attaching to his shoulders, which was the closest body part besides his head. He looked up at you after you called out for him, grabbing your face with his hand and kissing you.

"Peter" you moaned again against his lips, feeling his skin shiver from that. I never considered what effect you actually had on him. "Please, I want to feel you."

After you begged him, he wasted no time pulling your panties down, unressing himself as well. His arms spread your legs forcefully, positioning himself between them. You didn't really manage to follow everything he was doing because you were too eager yourself, pushing up against him in hopes to speed up the process. He pinned you down by the waist, shaking his head in disapproval at your actions. Peter didn't like it when you disobeyed him, even though it was the only thing you were good at doing. He lined himself up to you, teasing you lightly with his tip as a warning before he inserter himself inside, both of you moaning from the act. You felt something like actual electricity when he did that, making you breath heavy from the ecstacy. His hips moved rythmically, along with yours. He was still holding you by the waist, standing on his knees while he fucked into you. You moved your leg up on his shoulder, making him smile and kiss it, one of his hands running up and down it while both of you looked into echother's eyes. You enjoyed the view, so much, his naked toned body, his messy hair, that gorgeous face, your leg on his shoulder while he moved. It was hypnotysing, breathtaking, made your legs shake alone. He could feel you tighthen up around him, making him laugh softly.

"So soon?" he asked, noticing how you started squrming more than in the beginning, legs shaking from time to time, moans becoming more freaquent

"Peter, I'm really close" you managed to say, hands gripping on the sheets around you. His grip on your waist taightened as he went faster and deeper, making you whines more prominent than before. You walls started clenching around him, feeling yourself already starting to cum on him. He placed a hand on your lower stomach, applying slight pressure on it which really sent you over the edge, whole body shaking, heavy breathing and moaning uncontrolablly. He had to hold you down while you came, leaning forward and pecking your lips after you calmed down.

"I need a moment too" he whispered against your lips "Can you handle it for me?"

You nodded, letting him continue rocking his hips into you. You were covered in sweat and so was he, bodies pressed against eachother as he moaned softly in your ear, your legs wrapped around his waist to stop the shaking from the overstimulation.

"Peter" you mumbled against his ear ''I think you're really hot... like, way hotter than I expected''

"Fuck" he replied, pulling out of you and stroking his lenght a few times before he came on your stomach, both of you panting. He lay down next to you for a second, kissing your forehead and hugging you.

"You did so well" he praised you, starting to leave small butterfly kisses all over your face. You laughed softly, cuddling into him.

"We should go take a shower"

"Are you suggesting a second round in your shower?"

"No! Well... maybe, okay, yes"

He laughed at your reply, shaking his head.

[possiblystancest]

YESSS sub ford is so good, i wanna see that man humiliated six ways from sunday, and i'm sure stan does too

YOU GET ME NONNY-

He holds himself in too high of regards- arrogance blinds his vision and actions.

Perhaps someone should be the one making the decisions for him if he's going to be acting like this~

It starts small, nudging him with a sharp elbow when he speaks before he's spoken to - conditioning him to the point where he would be a bit hesitant to boast/give his criticism until he looks back at Stan/whoever and they give him a nod to speak

Then, some more additions. Perhaps he makes a mess of the living room while tinkering at the tv to access more "intellectual stations". Of course, that won't do. So, he's made to clean his mess, while Stan finds some scrambled porn station (with two dude which coincidentally look like him and Ford going at it) so poor Ford has to clean while sporting a raging hard on and he'll only get "help" once that room is spick and span😎

Turns out Ford can clean really good when the prospect of sex is put on the table. How greedy/naughty of him. To leave the cleaning to Stan while he had always been fully capable.

That means that Ford is not rewarded with sex. Nope instead Stan points to his thigh (rather generous) and tells Ford he'll get off this way or not at all.

Ofc Ford could just sulk off and jack off in his room. But, in the last few weeks, that conditioning and sublet sub pushing has Ford practically thanking Stan for letting him hump his thigh.

Stan just hums, enjoying those little nosies that Ford is producing as he rides his thigh feverishly.

He runs his hands through Ford's hair, giving a soft tug to the roots and chuckles when he feels Ford's body jerk, then go limp as he cums in his pants and all over Stan's thigh~♡

Then, Stan guides Ford's hand to his crotch, palming his errection and looks at Ford.

"You can say thank you by helping me out now, sweetheart."

[th3-0bjectivist]

My visit to the NASCAR Hall of Fame (Charlotte, NC - JUN 29 2024)

Every year for a few years now, I try to do an Independence Day post where I walk around a few cemeteries and snap some cool photos. But this is an election year, and I'm concerned that I'm going to have to soft-block some political zealot high on their own farts that will leave intellectual gems in the comments like 'Drumpf IZ Hitler!' or 'down with left-cucks in 24!'. So instead, I'm going to share some pictures that I took at the NASCAR Hall of Fame in Charlotte, and you can leave all the unrelated jabbering political frivolity that you'd like in the comments section.

For the record, I'm not into NASCAR at all. I haven't watched a full single race in my lifetime, and I tend to associate it with rednecks driving in circles. Which, to my chagrin, I was dead wrong in my interpretation on. Well, except for the redneck part. There's a hell of a lot more to these beautiful cars than I thought. My visit to this specialized museum was a delicate mix of history, art and science lessons!

The first thing I learned is that although these cars look fully assembled from the outside, they have nearly all the standard parts taken out (the radio, the average driver wheel, the headlights, etc.) and the bodies are composed of a flat sheet of durable metal. These days the car panels, which are composite materials like plastic coated with fibreglass, are then painted over to make a colorful, and often very corporate piece of art that is ready to drive at breakneck speeds. This all makes the modified car as light and agile as possible on the speedway.

In the U.S. south, where I reside these days, stock car racing's roots took hold from prohibition. Stock car racing wasn't just about competition; it was about taking your very fast car and running moonshine and illegally imported booze to different regions around Appalachia. Getting away from highway patrol meant stripping your car of excessive weight and parts, allowing for maximum maneuverability around hairpin turns and extreme acceleration up and down steep hills… all while a 1000-pound barrel of booze was strapped down in the back seat.

This is a picture I snapped inside the Hall of Honor, and that man is Richard 'the King' Petty. As a non-NASCAR fan, his face is the face I most associate with NASCAR, as his signature moustache, glasses and hat stand out to me as a truly memorable and iconic driver. But it’s not just the driver that participates. In NASCAR, your team is composed of a chief, who spots opportunities from television monitors and signals the driver through radio to execute specific moves to win the race, all while managing the rest of the team.

The pit crew consists of mechanics, a jackman (runs around the car with a heavy jack to raise the automobile during a maintenance pit stop), a cut-off valve attendant for refuelling, and a driver attendant who helps the driver get in and out of the car. It doesn't just take an individual driver, but a full team to assist the driver in winning the race. Drivers have suffered concussions, bone fractures, severe burns, whiplash, traumatic bodily injuries and death. Talk about bleeding for your craft!

And now for some art! Pictured above is a full-scale clay model of a Next Gen Ford Mustang. These days, clay models of racing cars are developed from digital designs and used to capture approvals from companies to lay down a final design for a race-worthy automobile. Once you pack a V-8 engine into one of these babies and recreate it out of a steel tube frame, you've got a vehicle that can reach speeds above 200 miles per hour.

Here's my pops, Dave, who I took to this museum as a birthday present. He's a NASCAR freak, and this little excursion to the Hall of Fame actually made him cry for a beat as he recalled decades worth of memories of racers, historic moments, and images of historic back-to-back victories for drivers and their teams.

Every car has the potential to be a race car. It just takes some weight-loss surgery or a good initial design, some driver safety features, and a colorful skin to make the whole thing faster, more agile, and more appealing to the eye. I have to say I never expected to absorb so much from the NASCAR HoF. I was grateful for my visit and wanted to share a portion of what I learned to Tumblr as a fun little sidebar.

I hope you enjoyed this post. And rest assured, you will never see another NASCAR post on my page ever again… y'know, unless it’s a meme or something!

Happy 4th,

th3-0bjectivist (Luke)

[ADDENDUM (07/05/2024): Tumblr ryanthedemiboy pointed out to me in the comments that the third paragraph in this post probably needed some modifications regarding the actual description of the panels, which I originally and ignorantly described as an ‘outer metal hull’. While this might have been the case with older NASCAR vehicles, in modern times the panels are at best ‘metal-skinned’, if that, and manufactured from carbon fibre. Also, older NASCAR vehicles were painted and repainted, but ever since the early 2000’s these vehicles are simply wrapped in a vinyl skin. Thank you for your insight ryanthedemiboy, I will ‘stay in my lane’ so to speak in the future and give these topics, that are alien to me, the research they deserve before I post!]

[night-raven-tattler]

Tatter, my dearest <3

How are you, sweetie?

I was thinking: What are your favorite hc for your favorite twst characters? Or do you have some extremely specific idea of someone like "yeah, Floyd definitely never open jars, he just break them"?

-🌙

Hello 🌙! The Tattler is, as always, tattling. Life is busy as always, she supposes, as it's supposed to be for all students. His secret blog is steadily approaching quite an impressive milestone, and they're contemplating possible celebration methods.

Alas, there is no rest for the wicked, and so the Night Raven Tattler Investigative Team has come across a very interesting array of information...

Miscellaneous observations made by the Night Raven Tattlers

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Ace and Deuce share a lot of mannerisms, but Ace tends to gesticulate upwards to make himself look more confident and badass while Deuce tends to gesticulate downwards and keeps his hands close to his body to not seem too threatening

While Vil usually reffers to his father as "dad", he occasionally calls him "daddy" over the phone and Eric gets very sentimental over it

Jamil had a very well hidden chuuni/cringey nerd phase

Sebek is hard of hearing since he has some hearing loss in his left ear

Jack knows how to crochet

Grim's purrs sound like firewood crackling

Axe body sprays and similar body sprays are forbidden from the Savanaclaw dorm due to the students' sensitive sense of smell

Grim photobombs every picture you take. Every. Single. Picture.

Kalim has a lot of inside pockets sewn inside his cardigan, and all of them are filled with pretty rocks

Before laundry day, Jamil goes with Kalim to Octavinelle and gives all the rocks in Kalim's cardigan to Jade, who in turn gives him some mushrooms to cook

Every two weeks, Octavinelle and Scarabia students gather in the courtyard and hold random debates, proving that their intellectual rivarly runs beyond class time

The statue of the King of the Underworld never gets wet during the rain

Riddle was a heart suit student when he was first sorted into Heartslabyul

Rook has a collection of vintage dolls that resemble Vil's appearance, and their eyes move everytime someone passes by them

Ace, Cater and Vil give the Prefect some hand me downs from time to time

Heartslabyul holds the Prefect in very high regards, and it's the dorm that treats them the nicest out of all of them

『••✎••』

[transmutationisms]

can you talk a bit more about weber (im refering to a post you made earlier today i think)? i know a bit about the protestant ethic theory but not really the historical context in which it was written nor how it's used today. thanks!

so, weber's argument is essentially that protestant (specifically calvinist and puritan) theology played a major causal role in the development of capitalism in northern europe following the reformation. his position was that protestant ethics, in contrast to catholicism, placed a high moral value on secular, everyday labour, but also discouraged the spending of one's wages on luxury goods, tithing to the church, or giving overmuch to charity. thus, protestants invested their money in business and commercial ventures instead, turning the generation of capital into a moral endeavour and venerating hard work and economic productivity as ways to ensure one's soul was saved (as the buying of indulgences was not an option for protestants).

this is a bad argument. at core it is idealist, subordinating an economic development to religious ideology. weber never explains how the actual, material economic changes he wants to talk about were effected by a set of ideas; he doesn't consider the possibility that the ideas themselves reflected in some way the material and economic context in which they were developed; he doesn't differentiate between protestantism as a causal factor in the development of capitalism, versus the possibility that capitalism and protestant conversion both resulted from some other factor or set of factors. <- these types of problems are endemic to 'history of ideas' aka 'intellectual history' because merely writing a history of the (learned, published) ideas circulating at a given time doesn't tell you jack about how and whether those ideas were actually implemented, how common people reacted to them or resisted them, what sorts of material circumstances the ideas themselves were formulated amidst, and so forth.

in the case of weber, it's very easy to poke holes in this supposed relationship between protestantism and capitalism. even in western europe alone, we could look at a country like france, which was quite catholic, never became predominantly or even significantly protestant, and yet also industrialised not long after, eg, the netherlands and england. we could also look at what historian michael kwass calls "court capitalism" in 18th-century france, which was a largely non-industrial form of capitalism that depended on the catholic king's central authority in order to ensure a return on investment. france at this time had a burgeoning luxury culture and a centralised, absolutist government that was closely entwined with the powerful catholic church—yet it also had economic development that is recognised as early capitalist, along with growing social and economic tensions between the nascent bourgeois and petit-bourgeois classes and the aristocracy. this is not even close to being the earliest example of capitalist or proto-capitalist economic development (some predates the reformation!), and again, this is within western europe alone—we could and should also point out that capitalism is not solely a european phenomenon and can and does coexist with other, radically different, religious ideology (i have problems with jack goody's work but this is something i think it can help elucidate).

weber argued that the 'spirit of capitalism' was no longer dependent on the protestant theology that had initially spawned it—but again, here we see issues with idealist methodologies in history. at what point, and how, does this 'spirit' become autonomous? what is it that has taken hold, if weber is not talking about the 'protestant ethic' itself and is also not interested in analysing the material changes that comprise capitalism except as effects of some underlying ideology? well, it's what he sees as a general shift toward 'rationalisation' and 'disenchantment' of the world, leading to an understanding of late 19th- and early 20th-century capitalism as a kind of spiritually unmoored servitude to mechanism and industry. this in turn relates back to weber's overall understanding of the legacy of the 'scientific revolution', which is another can of (bad) worms. there is a lot to say about these elements of weber's thought, but for starters the idea that europe was the progenitor of all 'scientific advancement', that it then simply disseminated such knowledge to the rest of the world (the apotheosis of the centre-periphery model, lmao), and that europe has become 'disenchanted', ie irreligious, as a result of such scientific advancement... is just patently bad analysis. it's eurocentric, chauvinistic, and simply demonstrably untrue in like twelve different ways.

anyway, when i see conservatives and reactionaries cite weber, i'm not surprised. his arguments are conservative (his entire intellectual paradigm in this text was part of his critique of marx and the premises of materialist / contextualist history). but when i see ostensible leftists doing it, often as some kind of dunk on protestantism (or christianity more generally, which is not even a good reading of weber's own understanding of catholicism), it's more irritating to me. i am not interested in 'leftisms' that are not materialist. weber's analysis is a bad explanation of how and why capitalism took hold; it doesn't even work for the limited northern european case studies he starts with because, again, idealist history fundamentally fails to explain how ideology itself creates material change. like, "some guy writes something down -> ??? -> everyone just agrees with him -> ??? -> stuff happens somehow" is not a good explanation of any phenomenon, lmao. if we are stuck on the idea that capitalism, a set of economic phenomena and real relations of production, is the result of ideology, then we will also be stuck trying to 'combat' capitalism on the ideological level. it's unserious and counterproductive. weber's analysis has retained an outsize position in the sociological historiography because it's an attractively simplistic, top-down, idealist explanation of both capitalism and protestantism that makes centuries worth of material changes to production forms into a kind of ideological coup ushering in an age of 'rationalism'. this is just not a text that tells us, leftists, anything politically useful. at best it is an explication of the internal psychological logics of (some) forms of protestantism in (some) places and contexts.

[edwad]

holy fuck why do marxists (or whatever you call yourself) always interpret that criticism as calling people "stupid"? i do not think people who fail to understand extremely long and complex and abstract texts are stupid, that's your (rather crypto-ableist) labeling. i said i myself have trouble grasping it, are you calling me stupid for that? furthermore you are not a normie, i think you know very well you spend many orders of magnitude more time on this than "the masses" ever will (1/?)

also you guys love the "random guerrilas read marx so that means everyone can become a marx scholar" line which is implicitly (or sometimes explicitly, because people will add a "so they obviously know better than those ivory tower academics") anti-intellectual because i guess you think marx scholars who spend their entire lives studying marx are just jacking off most of that time since someone with high school literacy can do just as well as them on top of working a full time job (2/?)

finally, has it ever occurred to you that i'm speaking from experience? i know people who have tried reading capital and get overwhelmed by stuff that's routine to me (e.g. reading a primary text from two centuries ago) as someone who, i agree, doesn't have all that much training. yes, they can overcome that barrier, but as you demonstrate that takes an amount of time and dedication that few will elect. and i know these people, i don't think they're "stupid", you called them that (3/3)

also, i want to add, i think calling people who don't have the kind of knowledge or intellectual skills that are very rarely acquired outside of formal training "stupid" is what's elitist. i commend you on being one of those exceptions, but don't beat on people who haven't done the same (4/4)

you've just sent me all this simply because you made the claim that marxism can't mobilize the masses which it very obviously historically has. you're wrong and trying to move the goalposts now as if im the one claiming that being politically activated means having to engage with "extremely long and complex and abstract texts". but im not saying random guerrillas are all marx scholars. in fact i explicitly denied that this level of engagement is necessary (or even desireable!) for political actors in these movements. and now you're trying to spin this as if im somehow being both anti-intellectual and crypto-ableist and all sorts of other wild things just so you can try to land some sort of blow to avoid facing the fact that marxism has indeed mobilized lots of "average" people, many of them without access to formal education. i also never called anybody stupid but you've somehow managed to get extremely worked up about something i never said!

[chil-aglia]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞 |ROTTMNT| (Leo X Male OC)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭

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Swift and quiet, the motto of a ninja. Blend in with the crowds, don’t be discovered. Adriaen kept these in mind, but Donnie on the other end was the opposite, sure he wore his purple hoodie to blend in with the humans, but he was also making a scene, creepily watching the humans before zipping on over to the next crowd he sees.

Adriaen groans, shaking his head lightly as he observed the building. April’s school.

Without drawing much attention to himself, he followed after Donatello, who snuck his way into the building as well, laughing to himself mirthfully, he always did dream of going to a normal high school.

”Donnie, can you stop and just act normal?” Adriaen hissed at him in a hushed whisper, managing to grab him by the sleeve and pull him back as he almost crashed into a group of jocks. ”I am being normal! See, totally normal.” He proudly claims, moving around and checking over people's shoulders to stare at their phones, obviously earning some wary gazes towards him.

”Oh for the love of…!” Adriaen grumbled, grabbing Donnie once more and leading him to the computer lab room. He knew that’s where April had to be, considering she told everyone her schedule in the group chat. Donnie climbed up to the ceilings, using the lights to climb around as Adriaen just walked in. The teacher was sleeping in his chair, and the students were all preoccupied by their work to notice someone else entering the room.

Adriaen spots April who stared at her computer in both boredom and concentration. Adriaen gazed up to see Donnie quickly throwing three ninja stars, all three striking at the desk with each word saying, "I'm here!".

“Psst April."

April looked up in bewilderment before she widens her eyes when Donnie slipped off the ceiling lights and falls down, but he managed to land into one of the chairs. Adriaen quickly made his way over, “Sorry, Donnie here got too excited.” He apologised, giving the purple masked turtle a scolding look. April smiled at the two, gesturing for Adriaen to take a seat, but he shook his head gently, preferring to stand as he leaned against the desk.

“Hi guys. Thanks for coming." April whispered lightly, the last part more directed to Donnie, “No probbles. I love this place.” He grins before spinning around and standing up to observe the other students, taking a whiff of the air.

”Smells like learning and puberty. So, what do you need help with?” 

He sits back down on the chair and eyed April who was putting some sort of coding into the computer, “My computer science project. Just need you to check the code to make sure I haven’t missed anything." She informs, moving out the way as Donatello got in front of the computer and started typing.

April turned her gaze to Adriaen, confused. “Why are you here Adriaen? Not that I’m complaining. But I didn’t know you were a computer nerd.” She muses lightly at the last part of her sentence. Adriaen stuffed his hands into his pockets on his black hoodie.

”Raph didn’t trust Donnie on going alone to a human school, so he asked me to come with and keep an eye on him.”

”Which is completely unreasonable. I don’t need a babysitter.” Donnie huffed, puffing his chest out confidently, Adriaen crossed his arms and eyed the mutant turtle.

”You almost collided with a bunch of jocks earlier. Had to be dragged away from peeking over the shoulders of other students and fell down from the ceiling.”

”All true, but I was fine and nothing bad happened.”

Yeah, cause I was there to prevent anything from happening. Well except the last part, but the teacher is a deep sleeper apparently and the students are all occupied with their own work.

Donnie exhaled and turned to April briefly, "You don’t know how lucky you are to be in school, April. Surrounded by true intellectuals. Scholars after my own heart, resplendent in gorgeous purple satin jackets—Wait! What?!" Donnie began to list off the good qualities of school before getting distracted by purple jackets.

Adriaen blinked and looked over to see an area in the classroom that had a sign that read ‘Dragons Only’. Two other students were hung up by their underwear on the cardboard box pillars.

What the...?

“Purple satin jackets? The shimmering sheen, the exquisite violet hue, the silkiness of the fabric! It has everything I love, and even things I didn’t know I loved yet—“

Adriaen lightly flicked Donnie in the back of his head, snapping him out of his trance as he drooled a bit. “Donnie, if you drool in here, something’s gonna short circuit." April advised with Adriaen nodding in agreement with her.

”That and you look like a weirdo if you’re drooling over a couple of jackets.”

Donnie shakes his head to focus back on the present, "They must be the kings and queens of high school." He smiles eagerly at the three students who seemed to be running some sort of VR experiment. “The Purple Dragons Tech Club? Yeah, if by kings and queens you mean stuck up jerks, who think they’re smarter than everyone else." April rolls her eyes at the group, “There’s a group like that for techy people?” Adriaen mumbled under his breath.

He always thought that sort of stereotype was for jocks and preppy people.

"Oh, that’s what I was hoping you’d say!" Donnie squeals, spinning happily in the chair which Adriaen had to grab hold onto to stop Donatello from flying off. Adriaen gazed back at the Purple Dragons club when he heard what sounded like fearful yelling. He saw one of them with the VR headset fell down, yelling something about dogs attacking him. 

The other two members, an asian girl and a larger dark-skinned man, laugh before doing some kind of strange high five. "Oh, my gosh, did you see that?!" Donnie gasps in awe, to which April and Adriaen couldn’t help but give the other a brief glance of uncertainty and inscrutableness.

"What? That whack high five?"

”What about it?”

Donnie chuckled and shook his head at the two, “Nay, fair April and Adriaen. A secret five, evocative of the golden ratios of the cosmos. Superior minds, glorious jackets. Guys I’m joining this club." Donnie exclaims before swaying himself closer to the tech club.

“You're what now?"

”Donnie, wait—“

Adriaen was too late once Donnie entered the Purple Dragons area before he made himself known. "Greetings, tech enthusiasts. I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of your club. Wait for it. Here he comes. It's me." Donnie introduces himself dramatically, as the only female of the club was busy trying to take the VR headset off the other guy who screamed earlier.

However, upon noticing Donnie she stopped and let go of the headset, letting it slap back against the other member who winced and fell back.

"Uh huh. April, that’s your name, right?" 

“You've known me since kindergarten, Kendra."

Kendra. Okay, so that’s her name. Noted.

"Uh huh. Who’s this guy and why does he look like mold? Actually, why do both of these guys have weird, coloured skin?” Kendra questioned, noticing Adriaen hanging out in the back, leaning against the desk. April sighs before going about to introduce everyone to each other. “Jeremy, Jason, Kendra, these are my friends, Adriaen and Don—“ She was rudely cut off by Donnie who stepped in front of her.

“Othello Von Ryan! Maker. Coder. Artisan. I am ready to join your esteem collective.” Donnie exclaims, giving them a false alias as he eagerly went over and started feeling the jacket that Kendra was wearing.

”And with regard to purple jackets I am a medium.”

Kendra clearly annoyed steps onto Donnie’s foot, making the mutant turtle yelp and jump back, hopping on one foot for a minute out of pain.

Well that was to be expected really.

"Sorry Von Ryan, but to join this group, you gotta bring something to the table, so, buh bye."

Donnie smirks before he suddenly pulls out his tech-bō. "Prepare to be Von Ryan'd!" He announces, pointing his staff towards the three members who marvel at it. 

"Wow! It’s the granddaddy of all multi tools!"

Kendra huffs and pushes it away, still not fully convinced, “Okay. It’s not bad. What else ya got?" She praised briefly before asking to see more. April rolls her eyes and crosses her arms together, "Come on. You don’t have to impress these fools.” She stated the obvious, Adriaen walking over to Donnie and placing a hand on his shoulder.

”Donnie, did you forget that we can’t be joining human clubs?”

Donnie chuckled and gently shoved Adriaen’s hand off his shoulder, “That’s what people say when they don’t have anything impressive. Like this!" He smirks in pride, pushing a button on the side of his goggles. Adriaen stepped back, knowing that the button that was pressed was a signal for Donnie to activate his battle shells back at lair.

It didn’t take long before the tech arrived through the window, even pushing Kendra out the way making her fall over. "Sweet! So how did these things communicate? Is it a microwave transceiver?" The larger male member asks, observing all the tech, Kendra had stood back up to also observe.

“With class C encryption protocol." Donnie informs, not even noticing how everyone else in the classroom stopped what they were doing and stared in shock at the advanced technology.

"Oh. My. Fave! I know Class C inside and out."

Kendra pulls back Jeremy, scoffing. "Can the bromance. Von Ryan…” She announces, pointing over at Donatello who stared at her in puzzlement.

”You’re in.”

Oh great.

He noticed how Jase was silently smiling and jumping up and down delightful at their new member. “Quit smiling Jase. You’re still low man on the totem pole." Kendra snapped before forcibly removing Jase’s jacket and throws it to Donnie, the fabric landing on his outstretch arm.

Instantly the latter became ecstatic and immediately puts it on.

“Yes! Be honest, you two. Do I look fantastic or superbly fantastic?"

April stared with a deadpan look, as did Adriaen. "You look like you dropped a juice box in the laundry." She replied, Adriaen giving a soft hum, “Yeah, what she said.” He added before shaking his head and grabbing Donnie by the back of the jacket.

”Come on, let’s go home.”

”What? But what about my new club?!”

Adriaen rolled his eyes, dragging him away. “You can survive time away from it.” He added, pausing when Kendra suddenly called out to them, but her stare was directed at Adriaen.

”You’re not interested in joining? All you have to do is show us whatever tech you got.”

Adriaen looked back before taking out his phone, sarcastically waving it in his hand. 

“This is all the tech I got. Besides, purple isn’t my colour.” 

With that he leaves the room, dragging a whining Donnie behind him as they made it to the sewers. After some walking in the direction of home, Donnie’s demeanour changed from pouty to cool, calm and collected once arriving home.

The two made their way to the others who were each doing their own activities. Raph was living a weight, Leo reading his comics and Mikey balancing himself on his skateboard. "Oh, hey guys. What’s the haps?” Donnie cooly greeted his brothers, Raph being the first to glance in his direction, but no one seemed to comment on the obvious new jacket that Donnie refused to take off.

”Huh? Oh, oh this? I didn’t realize I had it on. This is my sweet new purple satin jacket.” Donnie calmly grins, walking past his brothers who continued doing their own thing.

"Yep.”

"Got it from being a bit of a tech wiz."

“That’s nice."

“Purple Dragons. Members only. No big deal.”

”Mm-hm.”

Donnie suddenly pointed at everyone in pride, “Well, you better grab some toast, fellas, 'cause you are all jelly!" He exclaims, taunting his brothers as he exits the atrium. Adriaen sighed and pulled down his hood, eyeing the brothers as he expected them all to be more annoyed about the jacket.

”Huh, you guys don’t actually care about the—“

Once they heard the door shut, they all yell in frustration. Causing Adriaen to impassively stare at their unnecessary reactions.

Ah I spoke too soon.

"The nerve of that guy!"

"Who brings something that beautiful into a place like this?"

“I would give up every red bandana to feel the silky smoothness of that purple satin on my skin."

Leo made his way over to Adriaen groaning loudly and leaning against the mutant turtle. “Adriaen why didn’t you get us an awesome jacket?” He lightly scolded, only for his crush to push him away for some personal space.

”Next time you can go along with Donnie then.”

”Ugh, but that’s boring.”

”Then don’t complain. Besides, it’s for techy people only.” Adriaen informs, crossing his arms as he made his way over a black beanbag, settling down in it, crossing one leg over the other and taking his phone out to scroll around on social media. ”You’re not going to remove your hoodie?” Leo tilted his head at him as Adriaen without looking up from his phone hums in reply before saying the next sentence without really much thinking about it.

”Take it off yourself if you so badly don’t want me wearing it.”

Leo of course felt his face turn red as he could feel the gears in his head malfunctioning, unable to say a proper sentence, he walks away instead in a robotic manner. Adriaen breathes out softly and leaned back into the beanbag, it was too comfortable that he could easily sleep in this. Taking this peace and quiet that he rarely gets, he closed his eyes.

A short nap won’t hurt…

Seconds, turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours. The sun had set, and New York was met with the night life. No one had come to wake up Adriaen who had fallen asleep peacefully on the beanbag chair, his phone resting inside the pockets of his hoodie that he still wore from earlier this morning.

Adriaen himself was occupied with a dream. A dream that was so vivid.

He stood alone in a black room, looking around in puzzlement as he called out to anyone nearby. “Hello? Where is everyone? Leo…?” His voice bounced off the black walls, it was eerie and unsettling from how quiet it was.

What is this place? Why am I here alone?

He started walking around, maybe he could get a clue on his whereabouts if he kept moving. His eyes narrow ahead when he spots something in the distance. A white door with a sign above that read;

‘Who Are You?’

Adriaen felt his fingers twitch, as he stared at the unmoving door that seemed to be taunting him. 

Who am I? Wait…is this the answer to what I’ve been trying to find out about myself? 

His feet instantly walked over, but after a few seconds he noticed that the door wasn’t getting closer and he himself was getting further and further away.

No…come on, it’s right there! Move you stupid legs!

He started running but this time the door was moving further, and Adriaen was just stuck on the spot. He reached his hand out in hopes to reach for the handle of the white door, but he was awoken when someone was shaking him.

”…aen.”

”Adri…”

”Adriaen!”

Adriaen gasped and sat up sharply, panting as though he ran a marathon as he looked around with wide eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was in the lair; in the same beanbag he fell asleep in.

No black room.

No white door with creepy sign.

Just a dream…

He looked up to see Donnie was the one who shook him awake, he seemed a bit taken back when Adriaen woke up looking startled, but he reverted back to his usual self.

”Come on, those satin purple jerks stole my tech and now are stealing all kinds of technology.”

”…What now?”

Donnie didn’t have time to repeat all that as he grabs Adriaen’s arm and yanked him out the beanbag, dragging him along to the topside to meet up with April. By the time they did, Donnie filled him in on the situation.

Donnie remained inside the basket that was clipped onto the front of the bicycle that April was riding, Adriaen sat behind their human friend. "I...warned you about those guys!" April panted out, scolding Donnie who scoffed lightly, “You said they were full of themselves, not that they were criminal masterminds. So, in a small sense, this is entirely your fault." Donnie defended himself, as Adriaen raised his eyes at him.

"Seriously?”

”First of all, no. And second, what kind of criminal masterminds just rob electronic stores?" April added in, giving a brief glare at the tech savvy turtle before asking the real question that weighed on her mind.

"Maybe they just need equipment for a bigger job." Adriaen suggested, it sounds reasonable enough for a bunch of tech club students to do. “Like the one they were practicing on that VR simulator?  The Nakamura vault?" April asks to which Donnie groans in realisation upon hearing the familiar name.

"Aw, that’s a real company! Nakamura computer chips are in, like, every computer in the country! Let’s go."

April pedaled faster to reach the destination of the Nakamura facility. Luckily, they were close enough to the building that it didn’t take long to reach their final destination.

However, with no way inside and no doubt the Purple Dragons must be inside the building already thanks to Donatello’s tech, the trio were stuck outside. "How are we gonna get up there with no tech?" April inquired, looking around to get any ideas flowing to her head. Adriaen was also looking around, but nothing came to mind.

"Old school. Jazz hands!" Donnie announces, holding up a pair of metal claws that were used in ancient times for warriors to scale the walls.

“Wait, Donnie those aren’t going to help us—“

Adriaen’s words fell into deaf ears as Donnie jumps up onto the window but didn’t get far, slamming against the glass and sliding down.

“It’s glass Donnie, these claws are made for tougher terrain.”

"Come on, Plan B." April assured, grabbing Donnie by his foot and sliding him along the window, Adriaen running along beside her, the trio find a back door that didn’t seem to be locked, lucky for them, and ran in.

They were unfortunately met with staircase after staircase, but with pure determination they run up, all panting from exhaustion and legs aching, April briefly paused to check what floor they were at, only to see they were at the fifty-third floor.

“Oh, come on!"

”Keep moving April.” Adriaen encouraged, his mouth a little dry but he powered through it. Eventually the trio made it to the top floor, all panting to catch their breaths as Donnie growls lightly and pointed over at the Purple Dragons who were hacking away in the computer room.

"Okay, nerds, I want my stuff back!"

"I got the code! Let’s go!" Jeremy exclaims, making a break for it with the other two members, in an instant the two mutant turtles and April five chase. Donnie slipped when he tried to round a sharp turn, but thinking on his feet he grabs a roll of cable and throws it

“End of the line, buddy-o! April, Adriaen, heads up!"

April catches the cable holding onto one end and throwing the other end to Adriaen who easily catches it, he speeds up and managed to get ahead of Jase and Jeremy, holding up the wire as did April on her end and the two trip the hackers over.

Jase throws the laptop to Kendra, “The code!” Jeremy announces as Kendra caught it before it could hit the ground. 

"Got it!"

April, Adriaen and Donnie stood over Jase and Jeremy, tying them up together so they couldn’t escape. "Never betray…Othello Von Ryan! Grab the tech! I’ll tether myself to your jetpack!" Donnie instructed the three grabbing the tech off of Jeremy and Jase.

April was the one who wore the jet pack, much to her shock and dismay.

“Wait, what?!"

Kendra jumps out of the facility, Donnie and April follow with Donnie's jet pack shell on her back. Because there was only two tech that they took from the hackers from inside the building, Donnie grabbed Adriaen securely and held him close as he attached himself to April who screams as she tried to fly.

"How do you fly this thing?"

“Everyone’s got their own style. Just do what comes natural."

“What comes natural is not flying!"

Adriaen being the only one without tech and had to rely on Donatello to hold him or else he’d fall down from the sky, well…it was nerve wracking for anyone in his position.

”Donnie if you drop me, I promise you I’m going to haunt you forever.”

It honestly felt like a roller coaster, screaming as April loops around in the sky to pursue Kendra who seemed to be a natural. Kendra took shots at them with Donnie’s bō to fire them out the sky. The jetpack fired again and they flew straight at Kendra.

Due to the speed and April’s uncoordinated flying, the bō staff smashed right into Donnie's head. Adriaen naturally lowered his own head into his shell to avoid getting hit. Kendra blasted at them with the bō staff once more, laughing evilly and comes in close with the bō in mallet form and takes out April’s jetpack, sending her, Adriaen and Donnie plummeting into an alley.

The trio crash landed onto some trash to cushion their fall, but it still hurt none the less. Adriaen groans and poked his head out of his shell, rubbing his head as April sat up.

"I think I broke your jetpack."

Donnie stood up, seemingly unhurt and unfazed by the situation, the battle shell he wore had his mechanical arms springing out.

”No probbles, I go this!"

Kendra flies down slightly to them, grinning. "Not so fast, Von Ryan." She muses, typing away something in the computer she held. Managing to take control of the shell Donnie is wearing, the mechanical arms began attacking Donatello, gripping at his throat.

"Oh! Hey! No! Stop! Override! Override! Alpha Bootyyyshaker9000! Three Y's!" Donnie panicked, rolling around on the floor as Adriaen became alert and pounced onto battle shell, struggling momentarily to get it off Donnie’s back.

"Well, Von Ryan, looks like you’re out of luck. I’d love to spend all night beating you up with your own tech, but I’ve got a global bank to hack. Buh-bye." Kendra taunted, floating back up into the air to leave. Adriaen successfully managed to rip off the hacked battle shell, but it was still set on targeting Donnie who gulped and curled up slightly, hands on his head to protect himself since he was basically vulnerable in this state.

Adriaen naturally stood in front of a Donatello to protect him, even though he didn’t have his kama’s with him, he wasn’t going to let Donnie get hurt on his watch.

"Heads up, guys!" 

April managed to jump in with a wooden bat in her grasp, swinging the mechanical arms away before she battled with the tech as she rolled around on the floor with it.

Huh, okay then. Not sure where she got the bat but who am I to complain.

“Thanks April.” Adriaen sighs in relief that she pushed back the tech away from Donnie. "Those rotors! The reason I never wear a jacket is that I'm terrified it would get caught in them." Donnie proclaimed, keeping his gaze on the rotors that Kendra was flying up in.

"How ‘bout using a jacket to block those rotors?" April sassed out, to which Donnie hums and nods in agreement, “Exactly. Give me yours or Adriaen’s.” He held his hand out for either of them to put their jackets and hoodie in. “What? No!” Adriaen slapped his hand down, as April paused her fight with the battle shell, “Use your own jacket!" She hissed at him, reverting back to fighting against the hacked tech.

“Gah! You know, even though this whole thing was your fault, April, I guess it is up to me to solve it."

April once again paused her fight and glared lightly at Donnie, "Ooh, we're gonna have a talk." She grumbled at him, Adriaen sighed and walked over to April to help her out.

”Don’t bother. He’s too proud to admit that it’s his fault.”

He looks around and found an old rusty pipe, he picks it up and shrugs his shoulders as he goes ahead to smash at the tech that tried to choke out April. He was successful, but now he just hoped that Donnie wouldn’t get mad at him for destroying his tech.

"Fare thee well, my synthetic darling. I hardly knew ye, but parting is such sweet—“ 

Adriaen and April had enough of the dramatics from Donnie who had took off the Purple Dragons jacket, bunching it into a ball to throw.

"Just do it!”

The two order at Donnie who sighs but didn’t fight or argue back, "Okay." He sadly mumbled as he reels back his arm and throws the jacket at Kendra who laughs, unaware of the flying jacket coming at her until it was too late.

The jacket clogs Kendra’s rotors, sending her crashing back into the alley, dropping the computer that had the Nakamura code in it, she reached out for the device only for April to smash it with her foot. “Sorry, Kendra. Looks like your computer’s—wait for it. Wait for it…crashed! Bam! I should write for the news!" April taunted, proud of her Leo-like pun. Adriaen softly sighed at her, mostly just relieved that this was over, and they can head home.

Suddenly he was distracted when purple cloth came raining down over them, the fabric being of the purple jacket that was unmistakably ruined. Donnie stood in the middle of alleyway, looking up at the night sky as he held his hand out for the fabric pieces to fall into.

“Alas, a classic tale of a well meaning loner who just couldn’t fit in with a band of well dressed crooks."

April and Adriaen made their way over to him, the two putting their hands on Donnie’s shoulders.

“That’s okay, Donnie. You’ll always be in the April O’Neil Dorky Pals for Life Club. We also got one other member in it already. Ain’t that right Adriaen?”

”Heh, guess I wouldn’t mind joining this club.”

Donnie smiled at the two, exhaling to relieve any tension in his body. “Thanks guys." He mumbled quietly but also in appreciation.

"No matter how stupid you dress."

Adriaen snorted lightly at the last sentence from April, before he perked up when police sirens were inching closer to the alley they were in. "Hey, you wanna help me get this stuff back to the lair?" Donnie quickly begged the two, picking up one of his techs in his arms. April and Adriaen do the same, each grabbing a tech that was stolen from the lair and running off with it.

“I say yes to you way too often."

”Tell me about it.”

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

A/N: I APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE REALLY FAST AND OFTEN DON'T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER.   

BOOM! Enjoy some Donnie and Adriaen content because I see them as being like best friends, since Adriaen is like the only one who sorta listens to Donnie whenever he goes on his usual rambles and whatnot.

First Chapter here

Next Chapter here

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

Tim Drake's Mom is actually Lara Croft! AU

After getting pregnant Lara Croft disappears off the face of the earth, takes up a shell company in Gotham left to her by her father, and assumes the identity Janet Drake.

(DC made Timmy's parents archeologists! so Sis it was between Indiana Jones or the Tomb Raider and well here we are!)

___________________________________________________________

Lara Croft has a daring archeological adventure/world saving mission with a dashing man she only knows as N. Drake (if u know u know) and finds out she's pregnant weeks after.

Lara Croft did not expect to be Pregnant. Lara knows that she shouldn't have a baby. She knows this intellectually and emotionally, she doesn't have any family left and after nearly 10 years of traveling the globe and putting herself in life or death situations she knows her life can't accommodate children. Lara knows the responsible thing to do, she makes an appointment with NHS/MSI and focuses on her next project. (TW: Discussion of Abortion)

Lara never gets her appointment. She misses her abortion date in London when she gets caught up in another mad expedition that takes her half way across the world.

On this mission she nearly looses everything, her friends, her own life, what's left of her father's legacy, all for a semi cursed magical artifact that nearly blows up the South American Coast.

Lara's tired, scared, she's been running from Trinity (evil org) for nearly a decade now . She's 29, she's 5 months pregnant, and she's stuck floating on her back in the middle of the South Atlantic sea watching the sky burn.

Lara's rich she could always get the abortion, legally or otherwise, her father left her a billionaire and the souvenirs she'd collected from her travels do nothing but add to that wealth.

Trinity wants Lara Croft dead, they'll never stop chasing, and Lara just wants respite. She wants her quaint childhood in the English countryside with her father, she wants to curl up and sleep for a thousand years. She wants to be someone else, just for a moment.

Her heart beats wildly in her chest and she can almost feel another heart beating alongside it.

Lara Croft makes a decision. She sinks into the sea and doesn't come back up for air even when it burns.

On the shore a nameless woman washes up, water logged and looking for passage to America.

The Croft's have had shell companies for years, one can't be a billionaire these days without at least a few, Medi-industries is an unassuming medical supplier located in Gotham, New Jersey the crime capital of North America. It's the perfect place to disappear.

Janet Drake Lands in Gotham on a gloomy morning in March, she's got enough money to throw around that people forget to ask what family she's from, this is Gotham new money is nearly unheard of.

By mid April Janet has reestablished control of Medi-Industries, Now Drake Industries, and purchased an old English style mansion in Bristol, which the real-estate agent has assured her is a great neighborhood.

Timothy Jackson Drake is born July 19th at nearly 3 in the morning squalling high into the night like a banshee. He is perfectly healthy and perfectly safe in Janet's arms.

It is only in the safety of their home, in the house Janet picked, because it was high on a hill for tactical advantage and had bullet proof glass nestled between quaint wood paneled windows, It is only in the heart of Drake Manor that Lara dares to Whisper her son's name

"Timothy Jackson Croft"

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

AU ALSO INCLUDES!

Badass Lara Croft being the cool mom TM

A family portrait of the Drakes, Including Janet, baby Tim, and a mysterious Jack Drake (who was a very discreet and well paid member of Gotham's theatre society, and who was also more then happy to pose as a rich ladies dead husband for a day)

A Socttish Nanny/Housekeeper with a very keen eye and discreet mouth who will not tell a soul that she is fairly sure she's employed by Lord Richard Croft's, eccentric billionares, missing daughter.

precocious and slightly British accented baby Tim who gets to have his Mom with him for 10 whole years! before she inevitably runs back off to save the world

Tim being unaware of his mother's past life beyond her name until the age of 13 when he becomes Robin and is able to actually find out what his mom's been protecting him from his whole life.

I imagine in this AU that eventually Trinity finally catches wind of where Lara is hiding and she has a big confrontation with them in New Jersey. It's way too close to Gotham and Tim for her comfort, she knows this is the only chance she'll get to control the chaos.

So she packs Tim up to move him into the dorms at Gotham Academy and promises she'll write and be home for his birthday in the summer. After she's finished her "company" business first of course.

Tim's confused but he trusts his mom, he gets unsigned postcards from all over the world and pins them above his bed in the dorm and goes to sleep trying to guess what country she's in every night.

The move to the dorm is kind of cool to Tim as well because it means he can start his plan to follow Batman and Robin in the city! (in this AU there's no way Lara wouldn't have noticed him sneaking out at 9, but Gotham academy security? totally oblivious)

Tim celebrates his 10th birthday with his mom at home, he has so many freaking questions about where she was! and she tells him outlandish stories about daring fights and cursed artifacts that he rolls his eyes at but enjoys none the less.

it isn't till he's 15 that his Robin work and his mom's adventures cross paths.

After so many years of close calls, of hiding bruises from his mom with same concealer she uses to hide her own wounds, of wondering if it was selfish to wish his Mom cared a little bit less about the world and would stay with him for more then a few weeks at a time. Finally it all comes to a head in the worst way. Lara Croft's latest adventure puts her right in the middle of a Bat Level investigation. It has Tim near loosing his mind with worry hoping his mom is alive and Lara having the worst freakout/Blow up of her life realizing her son has been putting himself in Danger every night she thought he was safe.

The Drake/Crofts are messy! Bad at communicating! And unfortunately the exact same kind of reckless and self sacrificing!

Fun food for thought:

Lara canonically is a killer, if you've played any of the reboot Tomb Raider series she can be pretty gruesome and efficient! Very cool! Jason would stan! Tim is kind of appalled! Lara is glad Tim's never killed, that he's never had to.

Lara still dies in this AU but it's in a big Trinity X Obeah Man X Captain Boomerang Cluster fuck where Lara finishes off Trinity and Obeah Man for good but looses her own life in the process. Tim is devastated, he feels like they were just starting to really be 100% transparent with each other before her death. Que Tim's not good very bad year!

if you've made it this far in my rambles here's a treat! I actually wrote a lil fuckin blurb for this!

preface: This the first time Robin and Lara Croft have ever met/are on the same mission.

___________

" mom!" Tim shouts, running before Bruce can even properly land the BatJet.

The old temple is ablaze, the ancient structure already half crumbled in on itself with what's left of it is spewing out clouds of jet black smoke.

Tim's mother limps out what was once the front entrance clutching at her ribs.

She's filthy, covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime. but she's got on a triumphant smile like the cat who got the cream.

" Mom!" Tim yells again watching as she does a double take at his choice of moniker.

Her mouth twists in a grimace as she stumbles and Tim dives under her arm quickly moving to support her left side.

Lara Croft meets the white lenses of Red Robin's eyes in confusion

" What'd you call me?" She slurs trying to blink away the smoke inhalation that makes it hard to focus and leaves her lightheaded.

Lara's right ankle which took the brunt of a very nasty dive from a very high perch, not 20 minutes earlier as she raced out of the Dead Kings Tomb, finally gives up the ghost and she pitches forward taking Red Robin with her.

He's young, she thinks, he's very young.

Before either of them can hit the ground Batman intercepts their fall hefting Lara into a secure hold.

Red Robin catches himself and latches onto Lara's hand.

He yanks off one of his gloves and tries to wipe some of the grime out of her eyes.

" Mum" he croaks this time, voice breaking nearly in half on the last syllable.

Lara furrows her brow, the cowl covers so much of this young man's face, from his nose too his brow bone, but his chin is startlingly familiar as is his absolutely atrocious British accent.

He reminds her terribly of Timothy.

" Tim" she says deliriously, Lara tries to smile but her eyes start to droop and her head lolls slack against Bruce's arm. She's clean out.

Tim makes an odd lunge and jerk movement pressing his fingers into her carotid artery to feel her pulse.

He's shaking, more wrong footed and anxious then Bruce has ever seen him.

Batman is extremely grateful when Nightwing comes up behind him and gently pulls his younger brother's hands away from his mother's comatose body.

" She's fine Red. We need to get her on board so we can get her some oxygen though, the smoke inhalation is getting to her. "

" Right" Tim says, still frozen in place. He shakes it off quickly " Right." he repeats pivoting in place and leading their small party through the remains of the ruins and back to the jet.

" I'll prep the med bay."

--------

pics or it didn't happen! (ps, if u wanna write, draw, or HC anything for this AU feel free my lads)

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

where the sidewalk ends | pablo gavi

🎃 synopsis: Sofie meets an ex-hookup during a Halloween party. The full moon is high in the sky, the Summer they shared is now only a memory, and there are weirder things to worry about. warnings: alcohol consumption, smut, spooky themes, social media, fluff (Wc: 3k)

(this is a sequel to ibiza night fever, but can be read as standalone)

|the playlist|

“But all the magic I have known I've had to make myself.” ― Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

It’s finally October, every melancholic girl's favorite time of the year. After a breakup and a much-needed Hot Girl Summer, what Sofie needed was a Sad Girl Autumn, and she’s been taking advantage of the season.

She started doing yoga and has been reading a lot more; you can confirm that by checking her Insta feed – she’s been filling it with intellectual aesthetic pics.

Strolls through the park, loud sighs, pumpkin spice drinks—anything that makes her look like the protagonist of a pretentious European indie film.

Tonight, though, is a special night. Tonight Sofie is a sexy Barbie Cowgirl, and she’s accompanied by Black Swan, Sleeping Beauty, and Carrie. Or, Chiara, Luisa and Becca, as they are known the rest of the year.

It’s Luisa’s annual Halloween party. It’s been a hit since the first edition and the first time Sofie will be attending it as a single lady.

If the last few months have taught her anything, it is how to be casual, or at least how to appear casual. Sofie was focused on having fun, holding her phone in one hand and a gin tonic drink in another. She scrolled through social media while taking another sip. She wasn't trying to arrive already drunk at the party, only to loosen up a bit.

She and her friends have already posted their outfits; half of them were already at the party. Sofie took a deep breath, put away her phone and walked out of the door.

chiaraaraujo

liked by rebeccaamorim and 307 others

i am so stressed out #natalieportman

oliviaaraujo amen sister ⤷chiaraaraujo 🦢 ⤷sofiemartins 🦢🦢🦢

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rebeccaamorim

liked by pedri and 752 others

its halloweeen happy birthday stephen king

sofiemartins uhh so i just googled stephen king birthday and... uh... ⤷rebeccaamorim nah i got it right, shut up ⤷pedri 😂😂

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sofiemartins

liked by pablogavi and 326 others

🦄💗

luisafernandes girl marry me chiaraaraujo gatinha 🖤

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luisafernandes

liked by chiaraaraujo and 956 others

i'm your favorite disney princess 🩷

francisca.cgomes tão lindaa rebeccaamorim u the love of my life. fr.

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When Sofie walks into the party, she gasps with excitement. The decor was straight out of a Halloween movie. A fog machine was filling the room with mist, cobwebs were hanging all over the place. Jack-o'-lanterns grinned from every nook and cranny, their flickering faces casting playful shadows, giving the whole scene a spooky, dimly lit charm.

It was clear Luisa had gone all in to make this party amazing.

And the guests really brought their A-game in the costume department. Among the crowd, there was a wickedly realistic zombie, a time-traveling Doctor Who, a whimsical unicorn with a shimmering horn and even a comically oversized banana. The variety was as entertaining as it was impressive.

Music was thumping from the speakers, mixing old-school Halloween hits with some current jams, setting the mood for the night.

Sofie's eyes locked onto a familiar face in the sea of costumes – it was Pedri, dressed like a pirate and laughing at something Rebecca said. He looked a bit different since she last saw him, sporting a cool beard that suited him perfectly.

Sofie wasn’t surprised to see the two chatting; Becca and Pedri have been in a complicated long-distance situationship since they met in Ibiza, in the summer. But seeing the football player at the party gave Sofie goosebumps, as she tried to forget her own antics in the Spanish island.

She goes on to greet the couple.

“Cool beard, you really committed to the theme, didn't you?” Sofie jokes about his costume and Pedri laughs. “What are you doing in town, anyway?”

They were in Lisbon, far away from Barcelona, where he should be. Sofie half asks because she worries about her friend ending up heartbroken, but she’s mostly scared that his answer might get herself in trouble.

“We had a game here last night. Figured we could stay for the party.” Pedri winks.

We. There it was, what Sofie was scared of.

“We?” She asks, anyway, even though she knows the answer.

Pedri then tilts his head to the other side of the room, pointing at something. Or someone. When Sofie looks, she’s met with a figure standing by the door, somebody wearing a Ghostface costume. She rolls her eyes and looks back at Becca.

“I’m getting a drink, have fun you two!” Sofie says.

“Don’t get lost!” Becca yells and Sofie gives her a thumbs-up and a nod, but the moment she turns away, the music swallows her up. Luisa's mansion was like a maze. Sofie knew she was in for a tough time trying to do what Becca had asked.

The music was blaring, making it feel like she'd stepped into a nightclub. There were chill-out rooms with people sprawled on fancy couches, a glittering dance floor with a DJ dropping beats, and dimly-lit hallways that seemed to lead to who-knows-where.

Sofie's search for a drink brought her to a bustling room, where she was comforted by another known face, Chiara. She was dressed as Black Swan and deep into a lively, tipsy, philosophical convo with a small group of friends.

Sofie couldn't resist joining the shenanigans. "Hey, Chiara," she chimed in, with a wide grin, “what are you guys talking about?”

Chiara turned her swan-like gaze toward Sofie, her theatrical makeup adding extra drama to her expression. "Oh, you know, the meaning of life, the universe, and why we all wear costumes on Halloween," she replied, her words accompanied by giggles from her friends.

Sofie grabbed a chair and got cozy, all set to dive into the amusing and philosophical banter.

But the conversation didn’t last long; A muffled scream suddenly pierced through the party chatter, instantly grabbing their attention. Sofie and Chiara exchanged a concerned look.

"Did you hear that?" Sofie asked, her eyes darting around the room.

Chiara nodded, her curiosity piqued. "Yeah, that sounded pretty real. We should check it out."

They both rose from their seats, leaving their group of friends momentarily and headed in the direction of the mysterious scream.

Sofie and Chiara followed the sound down a dimly lit corridor. The place was spooky, and their nerves were on edge, so they just froze, waiting to see what would happen next.

They exchanged nervous glances, ears perked up, hoping to catch any hint of what had caused that scream. The whole scene felt like something out of a suspense movie, and they were bracing themselves for a sinister revelation.

“Hey,” 

The girls screamed at the voice behind them, as they jumped in shock. With a hand on her chest, Sofie took a deep breath, looking back to the figure standing now in front of her. Ghostface.

He took off his mask in a hurry. It was Gavi, and he tried to show them there was no need to be scared.

“It’s just me…” Gavi says.

Sofie and Chiara breathed a collective sigh of relief. Sofie was particularly happy to see that it was Pablo, and for a moment, she considered giving him a hug. But that thought made her freeze in her tracks, and her mind drifted back to their time in Ibiza, and the nights they shared. They hadn't talked since then.

“Is everything okay?” Gavi asks, torn between wanting to laugh at their reaction and genuine concern.

“We just heard something weird,” Chiara begins to explain.

Then, out of nowhere, loud banging noises erupted from the same place they'd heard the scream. The sudden, unexpected noise sent a fresh wave of tension through the group.

Sofie, swallowing hard, spoke up. "So, we came here to check it out..."

Pablo, shaking his head with a sly grin, says, "I don't know, I'm not super into the idea of investigating 'bang' sounds." He shot Sofie a knowing look.

“Do you think that that's somebody having sex?” Sofie asks, almost relieved at the possibility, since she had not considered it.

Chiara doesn't buy the theory, it doesn't sound to her like somebody is having a good time. “But if it's something serious, we should at least make sure everyone's safe." She says.

Pablo relented with a sigh. "Alright, fine. Let's check it out. But stick close, and let's not turn this into a horror movie cliche, okay?" He jokes.

With cautious steps, they followed the sounds down the corridor until they reached a closed bedroom door. The weird rhythmic banging noises were definitely coming from inside, and a mix of curiosity and fear gripped them.

Gathering their courage, they exchanged one last glance before Gavi, the designated leader of the group, slowly turned the doorknob. The door creaked open, revealing the dark room on the other side. 

When they pushed the door open, they were in for a surprise – a room filled with Roomba vacuum cleaners gone rogue. The little bots were spinning around, bumping into furniture, and beeping like they were part of some bizarre dance routine. It was like a small-scale robot rebellion.

Gavi burst into a loud laugh, "Seems like the robots have picked Halloween for their big uprising, huh?"

“That’s why I don't trust robots…” Sofie says, tip-toeing closer to Pablo, trying to avoid the bots.

“What about the scream?” Chiara couldn't help but bring up the initial reason for their investigation.

The group tenses up once again, remembering what brought them here in the first place.

"It was me," came a voice from the corner of the room. Luisa was sitting down, carefully wrapping a band-aid around her toes. "One of these things nearly took my toe out, and I don't even know how to turn them off."

With everything finally making sense, the group gathered their efforts to grab the rogue Roombas. After some trial and error, they successfully managed to turn off the little vacuum cleaners and carefully piled them up in a closet. 

luisafernandes

liked by pedri and 873 others

thanks everybody who showed up. it was the best halloween party ever. my vacuum cleaners literally almost unalived me. i love all of my friends so so much. happy halloween!

rebeccaamorim what was that in the middle? ⤷sofiemartins don't even worry about it pablogavi 👻 chiaraaraujo maybe like. get a broom or something

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Pablo and Sofie stayed behind after hushing the girls back to the party. In the dimly lit bedroom, it was just the two of them. Pablo sat at the edge of the bed, and Sofie stood by the window. They both felt the urge to talk but weren't sure where to start or what to say. The unspoken tension loomed in the room.

Should they bring up Ibiza? Or should they pretend like nothing happened? They exchanged glances every now and then but mostly remained silent as they gathered their thoughts.

"It's pretty crowded out there..." Sofie says, her thoughts interrupted by the party noise.

Gavi cleared his throat, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I know... This is better. I prefer being alone."

Sofie couldn't help but giggle,"Well, you're not entirely alone. I'm right here, you know."

Pablo met her gaze and said, "When I'm with you, it doesn't feel like there's anybody else in the room." Gavi's face flushed like a tomato, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized what he had just let slip. "Do you... um, understand what I'm saying?" he mumbled, his words stumbling out as he anxiously awaited Sofie's response.

“I feel the same way.” Sofie says, her words escaping before she could even fully process what she was saying.

A palpable tension hung in the air as they locked eyes. It felt like an unspoken challenge to see who would look away first. It was like a silent game of vulnerability chicken, and neither of them was ready to blink.

In an instant, Gavi was right in front of her, his hand gently resting on her hips. His eyes pleaded for permission. Sofie, taken aback by his bold move, simply nodded, her eyes fixed on his lips.

He kissed her hungrily and passionately. Their minds immediately turned into a total mess, as they both desperately tried to savor the moment while also trying to let each other know just how much they'd missed this.

Sofie instinctively placed one hand on his chest, while running her fingers through his soft hair with the other. Pablo deepened the kiss, taking his time exploring her mouth and playfully licking her bottom lip.

He carefully guided her to the bed, lowering himself onto her. Their lips finally parted, leaving them breathless and flushed.

They stared into each other’s eyes intently. They couldn’t wait anymore. The desire between them was so strong, neither of them could speak. They both just wanted each other, no more holding back. 

Sofie grabbed him tightly by the neck, pulling him closer. After gasping for air, Gavi brought his lips to her again, his hands moving down her sides and gripping her waist firmly.

She took off her shirt and Pablo gently pulled off her lacy pink bra.

“I missed them so much.” Gavi jokes, looking at her breasts. Sofie gives a playful slap on his arm.

“I missed you too.” She whispers in his ears. She can feel the goosebumps all over his body as she says that.

“Are we really doing this?” He asks, tenderly kissing her neck. He can’t seem to keep his mouth away from her body for too long. He knows they don’t have much time together, he’s going back to Barcelona in the morning.

“I want you so, so much.” Sofie answers in between whimpers, she’s already too lost in pleasure to consider the consequences of what she’s doing.

“But we have to be quiet.” Pablo looks at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If somebody hears us moaning, they might get worried for our safety.” He whispers. Sofie has to bite her lip to hold back a giggle.

“I can be quiet.” She promises.

Pablo enters her slowly, taking his time to enjoy every second of their reunion. They get lost in each other and it feels like their first time all over again.

She wraps her legs around him and digs her nails into his back, demanding more of him. His body starts rocking, slowly thrusting harder and faster until he loses control completely.

Their bodies move together easely. Sofie has to put a hand on her mouth to stop herself from crying his name out loud.

The sigh of her desperation is enough to drive him off the edge. He reaches down and starts massaging her clit, just like he knows she likes it. Pablo speeds up his pace, when he senses they’re both close to orgasm.

He collapses in her arms and Sofie holds him close as they reach their peak together.

They have their eyes closed and for a while the only thing on their mind is each other's heartbeat.

But then, Sofie feels her anxiety creeping in, and it is enough to break the magic surrounding them. "We should probably head back to the party," she whispers. To their ears, her words seemed louder than the music outside.

"Right," Pablo mumbles, eyes still closed, lingering in the moment for a little longer.

They quietly slipped out of the bedroom, making their way back to the party without exchanging another word. 

Even without speaking, as they get out of the bedroom, they share a sly, knowing look, hinting at the possibility of meeting again, without the need for words.

Sofie, without Gavi noticing, sneakily slipped a piece of paper with her phone number into his pocket.

[astrolovecosmos]

Gemini in the 5th House: Known for usually being involved in hobbies and recreation that is intellectual and/or social. They approach pleasure, creativity, and hobbies in a quick-witted, adaptable, high-energy way. Some with this placement may easily jump from hobby to hobby or idea to idea. They can be scattered in this area of life. Gemini is the sign that is the "Jack of all Trades" and this can very much be reflected in the 5th House. Many with this placement are likely involved with multiple hobbies, events, or creations at one time. Gemini specifically is known for having a love for reading, writing, comedy, teaching, learning, puzzles, riddles, word games, debate, journaling, blogging, and possibly theater/acting. They may find passion in their hobbies if they are related to social issues or politics. This placement is also known for being good at persuading or recruiting others into what brings them joy. This may manifest as the person who is always able to get a group together for DnD or someone who makes a certain hobby or interest popular again.

Image created with AI.

[jasonswh0rre]

The Psychological Analysis of Tim Drake

☁️ Tim Drake is our winner! The third person to be Robin but the first one to truly lift the mantle this analysis will seek to understand the psyche of none other than Tim Drake

☁️ Warnings: Mental Health content, Trigger for potential trauma, Graphic imagery, Violence

Introduction

Timothy “Tim” Jackson Drake is the third Robin in Batman’s extended family of sidekicks, and unlike his predecessors, he did not stumble into the role by chance. Tim’s story begins with a unique mix of intellect and determination, as he sought out the role of Robin after deducing Batman’s secret identity. Tim grew up in a high-society family, but the emotional detachment of his parents left him craving a purpose, something more fulfilling than the life he led. His analytical mind, combined with his longing to prove himself, drove him to step into the role of Batman’s partner, not out of revenge or tragedy, but out of a sense of duty. However, the burden of being Robin, his complex relationships with Bruce Wayne and the Bat-Family, and the tragedies he faces, lead Tim down a path of emotional suppression, identity crisis, and deep introspection.

Family Background and Upbringing

Tim was born into wealth and privilege, growing up in an upper-class Gotham City family. However, despite his material comforts, Tim’s childhood lacked the emotional warmth and connection typically necessary for healthy development. His parents, Janet and Jack Drake, were often absent, either physically or emotionally, focusing more on their careers and social standing than their son. This lack of attachment likely led to Tim developing an Avoidant Attachment Style—a psychological framework in which individuals avoid emotional closeness to protect themselves from potential rejection or neglect.

During crucial stages of childhood development, Tim was emotionally self-reliant, often left to his own devices. Instead of seeking love and validation from his parents, he directed his energy toward intellectual pursuits and curiosity about the world around him. His analytical mind became his primary coping mechanism, allowing him to suppress his emotional needs while focusing on problem-solving and detective work. This coping mechanism would later define his role as Robin, where his intellect became both his greatest strength and his emotional shield.

Tim’s Role as Robin

Unlike Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, who became Robin through direct intervention from Batman, Tim took it upon himself to become the Dark Knight’s sidekick. After witnessing the deaths of the Flying Graysons as a child, Tim later noticed that the acrobatic moves performed by Nightwing were identical to those of Dick Grayson. Using his keen observational skills and detective work, Tim deduced the identities of both Batman and Robin. His conclusion: Batman needed a Robin to keep him grounded.

Driven by his sense of duty and justice, Tim approached Dick Grayson to persuade him to return as Robin after Jason Todd’s death. When Dick refused, Tim stepped up to take on the role, believing that Batman was becoming too reckless and violent without a partner. Unlike Jason’s fiery nature or Dick’s need for independence, Tim’s motivation to become Robin was rooted in his intellectual understanding of balance—he saw Robin as necessary to Batman’s emotional stability, and thus, Gotham’s safety.

However, despite his success as Robin, Tim struggled with his identity in the shadow of his predecessors. He wasn’t the acrobat that Dick was, nor did he have the rebellious nature that Jason embodied. His struggle to define himself as Robin became an internal battle, one that was only compounded by the eventual appearance of Damian Wayne, Bruce’s biological son, who would later take over the Robin mantle.

Tim’s Relationship with Batman and the Bat-Family

Tim’s relationship with Bruce Wayne is one of respect and admiration. Unlike Jason Todd, who constantly sought Bruce’s approval, or Dick Grayson, who eventually grew into his own man, Tim saw Batman as both a mentor and a necessary component of Gotham’s balance. He respected Bruce’s methods and, more importantly, understood the importance of keeping Bruce grounded. However, Bruce’s emotionally distant nature mirrored the emotional detachment Tim had already experienced with his own parents. As a result, Tim developed a deep intellectual bond with Batman but struggled to connect emotionally.

Bruce recognized Tim’s brilliance, often allowing him to make his own decisions in the field, which gave Tim a sense of autonomy. However, Bruce’s inability to express affection or validation left Tim constantly questioning whether he was truly valued. This emotional gap led Tim to rely more on his own intellect and problem-solving skills, further reinforcing his avoidant attachment style.

Dick Grayson was a figure of admiration for Tim. He idolized the original Robin and modeled much of his crime-fighting style on Dick’s example. Their relationship, though respectful, was marked by Tim’s constant struggle to live up to Dick’s legacy. Jason Todd, on the other hand, represented Tim’s fear of failure. Jason’s tragic death and violent return as Red Hood served as a reminder of the dangers of being Robin and the emotional toll it could take. Despite this, Tim and Jason’s relationship was one of mutual respect, though often tinged with tension.

Damian Wayne posed the greatest challenge to Tim’s self-esteem. As Bruce’s biological son, Damian naturally felt entitled to the Robin mantle, and his superiority complex often clashed with Tim’s intellectual approach. Tim’s eventual acceptance of the Red Robin persona was, in part, a way to step out of Damian’s shadow and carve his own path.

Psychological Trauma and Coping Mechanisms

Tim’s most significant emotional trauma came with the death of his father, Jack Drake, at the hands of Captain Boomerang during the events of Identity Crisis. Losing his father was a pivotal moment for Tim, as it shattered the fragile emotional connection he had built over the years. The loss of his father, compounded by Bruce’s emotional distance, left Tim feeling isolated and emotionally vulnerable.

In response to this trauma, Tim doubled down on his intellectual and detective abilities, using his mind as a shield against the pain of his loss. This emotional suppression became a key coping mechanism for Tim, allowing him to continue functioning as a hero while avoiding the emotional fallout of his father’s death. However, this suppression also prevented him from fully processing his grief, leading to moments of intense emotional breakdowns, particularly when he was alone.

Tim’s decision to become Red Robin after losing the Robin mantle to Damian was another coping mechanism—by taking on a new identity, Tim sought to redefine himself outside of Batman’s shadow. However, this also indicated a deep sense of loss and inadequacy, as Tim struggled to find his place in a world where he was no longer “Robin.”

Attachment Styles and Emotional Suppression

Tim’s Avoidant Attachment Style is a defining feature of his psychological profile. Throughout his life, Tim has consistently avoided emotional intimacy, instead relying on his intellect and problem-solving abilities to navigate the world. This attachment style developed as a result of his emotionally distant upbringing, as well as the emotional detachment he experienced from Bruce Wayne.

Tim’s reliance on his analytical mind is both his greatest strength and his emotional crutch. While it allows him to excel as a detective and strategist, it also prevents him from forming deep emotional bonds. His relationships with the Bat-Family, while respectful and functional, are often distant, as Tim struggles to express his emotions or rely on others for support.

Leadership and Independence

Tim’s role as the leader of the Teen Titans gave him an opportunity to step out of Batman’s shadow and assert his own identity. As a leader, Tim demonstrated remarkable tactical skills and the ability to keep his team focused and organized. However, his leadership was often marked by a sense of emotional distance—while he cared deeply for his teammates, he struggled to express this care in a way that fostered deep emotional bonds.

Tim’s eventual acceptance of the Red Robin mantle was both a declaration of independence and a reflection of his internal struggle. By choosing a new identity, Tim sought to prove that he could stand on his own, separate from Batman. However, this decision was also rooted in his feelings of inadequacy—despite his accomplishments, Tim constantly questioned whether he was truly valued by the people he cared about.

Conclusion and Diagnosis

Tim Drake’s psychological profile is defined by his Avoidant Attachment Style, emotional suppression, and intellectual approach to life. While his analytical mind allows him to excel as a detective and leader, it also prevents him from forming deep emotional connections with others. His struggles with identity, particularly after losing the Robin mantle to Damian Wayne, reflect a deep sense of inadequacy and a need to prove himself.

While Tim does not exhibit the emotional volatility of someone like Jason Todd, his emotional suppression and reliance on intellect suggest possible underlying issues such as mild depressive tendencies or identity disturbance. His journey as Red Robin reflects his desire to carve out his own identity, but also highlights his ongoing struggle with emotional detachment.

Tim Drake is a complex character, defined by his intellect, his sense of duty, and his internal battle to connect with others. His psychological growth, while marked by significant trauma and loss, showcases his resilience and determination to find his place in the world—both as a hero and as an individual.

[divijohm]

WHAT CREEPS ARE AUTISTIC? + SUPPORT LEVELS

A/n: this are the pastas I personally think are autistic and why because I am autistic and I'll pass down the autism

Jane: I'm projecting

Cody (xvirus): because I said so

Hoodie/Brian: Because he's literally me

Toby: Because he already has ADHD and tourettes so he might as well get the whole pack

Bloody Painter: I'm projecting²

Sally: Because autism is coquette and she's too

Eyeless Jack: Because why not?

These are the autism support levels

This is not set in stone, levels can fluctuate during the week/month based on how stressed the autistic person is or how well therapy/treatment is going. A person can also be between 2 levels, I myself am between level 1 and 2, because of my high masking. I have great social difficultys but can do day to day activities (mostly) fine, although on paper I'm level 1. Support levels can also be defined by concomitant disabilities, specially if they're intellectual (down syndrome, learning delay, etc)

Ok so now to the actual reasons

Jane: She's literally the embodiment of autism in afab people lmao. Her straightforward way of speaking, black and white thinking and strong sense of justice and difficulty forming connections are all very autistic traits. She's level 1 of support, 2 on bad days

Cody: High interest in microbiology = hyper focus + special interest. Bedsides I don't see him as "social" he prefers to be alone which could be either esquizoid personality disorder, autism or both. I'll go with both. He doesn't understand humans neither really like to be with them. They're level 2 (almost 3) support

Toby: Many psychological Disorders are accompanied with others, much like a pay one get three deal, tourettes, ADHD and autism are pretty common together. It is not always that "social difficultys" are tied to shyness or isolation, it can also be pushyness and a hyper personality much like Toby's personality. He's level 1

Hoodie/Brian: In my head he's schizophrenic AND autistic. Which really makes his paranoia worse, autism already make you hear things people filter out (like electricity) this together with auditory hallucinations makes him have really bad meltdowns. He's level 3 of support but with all the bullshit he's been through he's forcing himself to be level 1, he don't manage it very well so he acts like a level 2

Bloody Painter: isn't really specified why he's bullied in the og as far as I remember and many autistic folks are bullied for no reason. His passion for painting and drawing can be seen as an hyper focus /special interest. Also his hate from loud places and crowds can be because of sensory overload. Helen also has a personality similar to mine when I was younger so why not haha. He's level 2 of support

Sally: Is pretty rare that girls are diagnosed with autism below the age of 16. So I'll give a little representation here. Her love for pink and typically girly things to the point of looking like a stereotype can be read as her special interest. Autistic girls are often more naive than the average girl of the same age, which more often than not leads to abuse/bullying, so one more point there. Not much else besides the "I want her to be autistic because I wish I was diagnosed much younger". She's level 1 support.

Eyeless jack: He's the embodiment of sensory issues, bedsides I see him as pretty socially inept, not that he doesn't like to socialize, He just don't really know how (like me). Also I see his medical skills as being a side product of his Human body special interest. He's level 2 support