#you just don't get movies like this anymore

[thedanishcatgirl]

I find Celtic so cool especially their singing. I am really happy that it is still alive.

I wish actual Old Norse had survived as much as Celtic has. Unfortunately we don't really know what it sounded like. It is very much dead.

The closet we can get is what is usually called Old Norse (because people in the 18hundres mistakenly thought that was the language of the Vikings) or Norrønt which is the language that evolved in Norway around 1200 and survived in Iceland. That we can actually learn but like Latin not really a language that is alive anymore. But it is cool to understand the original Icelandic Sagas.

But before that all the north and Vikings actually spoke the same language usually called Dane tounge (believed to come from Saxons because it was mostly Danes they interacted with despite what movies and series make you believe. Snorri also used that name so that was probably just decided after that it would be what it's called) and I wish I could learn that language that my ancestors spoke when they actually where Vikings. But at least I can one day learn something that should be close to it even though the Danes never spoke that one.

If your language lost, it should die with dignity, not be put on artificial life-support because ‘reasons’

[stopaskingme]

Further Notes on Watches

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 (coming soon �� last one I swear)

Tremblay

Tremblay's watch is a luxury piece. Probably a Tudor Style Fluted Bezel 41mm.

An uncommonly plain watch from Tudor. The clean face and delicate fluted bezel makes this a popular choice for people who want a luxury watch that just looks nice. it’s the newest and most expensive watch among our Conclave cardinals.

My watch friend knew he was corrupt the moment he saw the metal bracelet.

'Metal bracelets always cost more. You wear metal bracelets outdoors. If someone is wearing one indoors, they want you to notice them.’

eta: What does this tell us about his character? watch friend: nothing. He’s a basic bitch.

________________________________________

Tedesco

Tedesco's watch might be a ✨vintage 1960 Oris 671 KIF✨ (or a Clues Triomphe. We cannot agree.)

It's so generic-looking, we thought it was a Daniel Wellington at first.

A watch that one buys because of how it looks. The person wearing it hasn't seen much of the world and thinks this is what class and luxury looks like.

But then my friend clocked the bevel and alligator strap. Nevertheless, Oris is old and traditional / conservative and boring to the point of being generic. That's why it left no impression. It's devoid of character.

Oris is undeniably quality Swiss watchmaking, 'but it's easy to forget they exist because they're not creative. They don't experiment outside their comfort zone.'

My friend adds that "Anyone with a decent-paying job can save enough to buy an Oris in their lifetime. It sits somewhere above a Tissot, but below a Tudor. "

Additional note: like Tremblay, Tedesco's watch has a black dial, projecting an image of refinement, quiet confidence and charisma.

____________________________ EXTRA NOTE #1 ____________________________

Bellini's Seiko Dolce is actually swankier than Lawrence's battered Orient Bambino

The Orient Bambino is the good sourdough passed down through generations by grandma, recipe unchanged.

Seiko Dolce is that good sourdough from that one niche bakery in the cool part of the city and you can't get it anymore because it's limited edition.

Disclaimer: Lawrence's watch could also be an old model Longines; we're not 100%.

____________________________ EXTRA NOTE #2 ____________________________

Adeyemi has a watch too!

But I have to address that in a separate post because this is stupid long already.

In the meantime, please enjoy this shot of Benitez's elegant hands with his Casio watch peeking out eeeeever so slightly from his left sleeve.

____________________________ EXTRA NOTE #3 ____________________________

The watches in the movie are worn upside down

A clear example is when Lawrence tears open his toiletries at night.

If Lawrence's watch is worn correctly in the screenshot, it means he loses his temper with his toiletries at 6.30p.m.

But the scene that precedes this was so dimly lit, it had to be late at night. As late as, say, midnight...

The more obvious clue is the crown (the dial). It's facing the wrong way.

We don't know why.

I can only guess that a wardrobe assistant put the watches on for the actors and accidentally tied them as if they were wearing the watches themselves.

__________________________________________

Conclave Watch Meta part 1 / part 2 / part 3 (will be up soon) __________________________________________

This post came to be because after my previous post on Lawrence, Bellini and Benitez's watches, @purimpura, reached out to ask about Tedesco's watch ✨they even provided screenshots! ✨so this is their fault. please go give them love.

[slavicdolls4mangione]

have you seen that trend on tiktok where gfs prank their bfs by telling them they don't want to sleep over? i NEEDDDDD a blurb of that with luuu

I HAVEEEE omg i’m so glad you sent this anon because i was literally thinking of writing a little something about it with our lu 😭

before you and lu decided to move in together, you would be having your regular late night hangouts on friday nights that would last throughout the weekend and this time you happened to stay over at his place.

lu would be reading a book while you’d be scrolling through tiktok, your legs thrown over his lap (because the boy needs to be touching you somehow), and as you’re scrolling through your fyp you come across this video of a girl telling her boyfriend she won’t be spending the night anymore and it would make you wonder how lu would react to it so of course you decide to put the prank into action:

“lu i’m gonna go in like 15 minutes or so”

cue luigi whipping his head up like 🤨🙁 “what do you mean amore we’re spending the weekend together remember?”

and you’d be like “yeah but i don’t feel like it anymore i’m sorry”

and he’s pulling the puppy eyes on you right then and there, closing his book in a heartbeat, asking what’s wrong, if you’re feeling sick, if he did something to make you upset, if you’re getting bored and if he should put on a movie or you guys should go out 😭 poor boy is stressing himself out, and that’s when you’d start laughing and just pull him into a hug, kiss all over his face and tell him “it’s just a tiktok prank my love i’m sorry”

CUE HIS SASSY EYE ROLL LMFAO, he’d lovingly tell you how annoying you are and ramble about how much he hates tiktok while also dropping his entire weight onto you and shove his face in your neck (just in case you actually decide you want to head back to yours, but you can’t do that if he has you trapped duh)

[dilf-docs]

This Thing Upon Me, Howls Like A Beast

professor!pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: to cover some social hours and as a favor to your recently fallen-ill friend, you become your research methodology professor's TA. but here's the catch: you've got history, and what you really mean is beef; good, pure, unadulterated loath.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, pwp, rivals to ??, hate sex, p. in v. (do i even wrap it atp), degradation kink, daddy kink, lwk exhibition kink bc this happens on his office (rip to the furniture), bit dom!pedro + brat taming (again?? stop it mayor we get itttt omg) sprinkled here and there, fingering, squirting, creampie (everyone got invited to the party), reader is a loud-mouth (who's this divaaa), pedro's kind of an asshole and a perv in this one (ooc sorry), don't expect a second part this is literally just self-fulfilling filth without a storyline

word count: 6,451 words

side note: hello! this won the poll. am i the only one with this fantasy? pls tell me not; i feel insane looking some of my professors like a fucking starved drooling dog. giggling as we speak, bc the movie's got everybody insane between marvel renaissance, gif dump, new content, husband!pedro material and professor wet dreams out there... this piece of work is the last. hope you enjoy it, citizens! ps. jin of bts makes an appearance bc i love my seven men and i'm currently sick so he is sick too lmao (ah pero para escribir cochinadas ahí sí estás sana verdad)

It's your fault, really, for opening it in the middle of the class. It was a link, and you should've saved it for later, but then your thumb clicked into the blue underlined text your friend sent, and the reel popped up on your screen.

Your laugh erupted before you could cover your mouth, your professors' words hanging mid-air.

"Who did that?"

Everyone looks at you. Those sell-out, ass-kissing, boot-licking dicks.

His eyebrows furrow until they seem to melt into one, a big angry scowl on Mr. Pascal's face.

"Something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Y/n?"

His voice reverberates on the class' walls, sounding even scarier.

You shake your head, tone quiet as you let out a small, "No"

"No?" he repeats your words, mocking your insecure demeanor, "because with that loud ass laugh, it seemed like something important enough to dissrupt my class. So please, share. You can't leave us wondering in here"

People cough and avoid your gaze while you wish the building would collapse and kill everyone inside, you included. Oh, that would be good. But no, you're stuck on a space that now feels too small and his persistent gaze cuts right through you.

"I-It's not important-" you stumble over your words.

"Can't speak anymore? All that boldness, suddenly gone"

"Mr. Pascal" you plead. God, you had never even begged for anything in your life. But there's always a first.

"I said share" his voice menacing, like he's got not an ounce of sympathy in that sturdy body that could fit plenty. No, wait. Focus!

He grows impatient at your lack of movement, practically growling his next words:

"I won't repeat myself"

"I-I I don't know how to-" you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sound. "It's a video, so-"

"Then cast your phone and project it" he clicks his tongue, clearly enjoying this. What a sadistic motherfucker.

"I-I can't-"

Can Jesus please hurry up and come fast? Even better, immediately take this one to hell, please.

"Aw, you poor thing" he tuts, mockingly. No one dares to speak, and you'll learn later that he's got his own reputation. For a reason.

"Don't worry, I'll help you myself"

Turns out, the fucker made you and your shaky legs stand up and walk the walk of shame. Then, you had to proyect the silly video, which in handsight, wasn't funny anymore. While some of your classmates laughed, that didn't lessen how humilliated you felt.

It had happened during your first year at university, on a subject you really couldn't care less and when you were still (practically) a baby; freshly eighteen. But now you were twenty, almost finishing your career, and the shaky insecure teenager was long gone, replaced by a secure (albeit a bit of a bitch), confident woman.

That had been your first encounter with professor Pascal.

You have to give him some credit: he is kind of the reason why you did a full 180 on your personality.

But life always comes back to bite you in the ass.

"What do you mean you're sick?" you scoff, "we were supposed to go to Dave's party tonight!"

Your friend lets out a cough that sounds borderline animalistic.

"First of all, don't come closer. I'll pass it to you" Jin speaks up, voice rough from the earlier death-threatening cough. "And second, do you think I care about a stupid party? I'm dying here"

"Don't be so dramatic" you roll your eyes.

"Hello? Didn't you hear that cough?!" he sounds offended, reinforcing the feeling by throwing one of his used tissues at you. You dodge his lame throw with a yuck. "I think you're devoid of empathy"

"Well, thank Mr. Pascal for that"

Jin wasn't your friend when that happened, but when you became buddies, he eventually came to know about your beef with the older man. Yes, beef, because after the Reel Deal (as you both have come to call it), he made your life impossible. If it weren't for your skills and intelligence, you'd probably fail his subject. Mr. Pascal gave you the hardest time ever: be it pairing you with the absolute worst students or making your assigments more difficult, for an "unknown" reason.

Eventually, even after such a traumatic experience and subject being way behind, it became a staple in your duo to bring him up everytime something negative happened or was mentioned.

("You're so funny!")

("Thanks, a professor pushing fifty made my life impossible when I was eighteen")

But here's an even funnier thing: for unknown reasons, Jin became his TA last semester. Probably he didn't know that you were friends, and that has to be the reason he's actually a decent human being towards the younger boy. I'm telling you, Jin would insist, the whole mean asshole shtick is propaganda!

"Talking about him..."

"Stop" you raise your hand dramatically, "enough bad news today"

"You can still go to the party, you know?" he giggles, earning another cough that practically leaves him voiceless. "Why do you insist on taking me? I don't know this people!"

Jin was two years older your senior.

"But it's not fun without you!" you insisted on dragging him around everywhere after you met because he tutored you. "Who will I bore with all my failed flirting attempts?"

"Thank God, not me" he ignores your pout. "Besides, wasn't like Marcos insisting you went with him? There's your chance!"

"But Marcos is boring..." you draw out, "and I need a man who makes me laugh"

"You can't really ask for that much in this economy"

Okay, here's the deal: there's another reason you can't let go of the Mr. Pascal subject, and it's not because of the beef. Hell, Jin can't know about this or he'll never let you live.

The answer is quite simple: as infuriating as he is, Mr. Pascal is hot. Like, middle-aged hot, with the greying hair and face marked by lines that tell time. If it wasn't for him you'd probably never discover your preference towards more... aged meat. You should be furious, and you were, but during all your petty arguments over topics or slides that didn't deserve to be reviewed for more than five minutes, the fire that ignited in your lower belly? You've never felt it before, and if that managed to get you more hot and bothered than a fresh boy ready to kiss your lips, neck and below? Well, that's a serious issue.

But it was his voice, that treated you with such vitriol, a deep and rich sound reserved just for you, or be it the way his auburn eyes seem to catch fire whenever you opened your mouth, dark forests burning in flames that threathened to reduce it all to ashes; yo were eager, anticipating the burn.

He saw your defiance, and instead of putting you in your place, he matched that wild rageful spirit of yours that refused to be tamed.

And that you liked, despite the history of hate between you.

"What about him?" you appear nonchalant, while retouching your makeup for the party.

"About him who?" Jin quips, "we just talked about two fine men-"

"The much older man"

A weird smirk forms across his lips. "Sure, of course"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. But it will be fun, nonetheless" he sits up straight from his previous surrendered position on the couch. "So, remember how I'm his TA, right?"

"Yes?" you pause. "Wait, if this is for me to help you check again more homeworks, no. I am not helping you read a hundred papers again for free"

"They weren't a hundred!" he barks. "Besides, it's not that"

"Then?" you press, not admiting how interested you were.

"Do you see my poor state?" you nod, not understaning where he's going. "Then, you're aware I'm not capacitated to do said task as of right now"

"I'm aware" you repeat, "what I'm not, is what does that have to do with me?" you resume your activity, going for your eyeliner. "So much mystery when you could've just said it in a pass"

"I need you to cover up for me"

The liquid eyeliner paints a line across half of your face. "What?!"

He laughs at your reaction, "You heard me"

You leave the mirror, now focusing your attention on him. "It's not April Fools yet, Jin. Heads up, it was a terrible prank"

Even if it made you hot to have such dynamic with your former IM professor, you weren't exactly keen on seeing him again. For you, he had turned into a memory slash fantasy at some point: an asshole that got your panties wet and pussy slick when you touched yourself at night, on behalf of all the dumb uni boys who couldn't reach that sweet spot of yours. What a dirty girl, his velvet voice on your head would say. Why are you touching yourself to your supposed foe, a much older guy? Fucking slut. Yeah, there was no way you'd go back to the real thing for the real him to taint the image you got off almost every night to, so he could say your name in that animosity that leaked with a barely contained rage and poorly disguised distate that left a bitter taste on your mouth, ego and self-steem on the ground. Because the truth is, no matter how much you argued back, he always won. You had just found your voice, but all efforts to bring him down seemed powerless, and he had won every single battle: even if he didn't have the last word, just with a look, he made you feel small, stupid and meaningless.

Nope. Not going back.

"And you have a terrible way of coping" he's quick to counter back. "Listen, it's not so bad. You just have to do meaningless tasks and pretend to be interested. Simple, right? Look, those extra credits could be useful, you know? And you excelled the class, y/n. Easy!"

"You're making it sound trouble-free as if the man doesn't hate me"

"He's definitely forgotten about it!" he waves his hand, dissmisively. "Probably jokes about it, like us!"

"Mr. Pascal doesn't seem the type of guy to have humor"

"Humor me, then" Jin sighs. "Do this for me, yes? When have I ever failed you?"

You wish for some sense to get into his skull. Had he forgotten every single anecdote?

"Think of all those times where I've taken you home, carried you drunk. Or the sad heart breaks I've been through with you, remember? Brought you ice cream and watched your favorite movies. Or when I used to tutor you? Or-"

"Enough of your emotional manipulation, Mr. Kim" you shake your head, dissapointed, all to avoid the quiet rage to settle in. "I thought better of you"

"It's for a week. Days if this pills do a miracle" his big black eyes look at you, pleading.

"Jin, you're not being a very good friend"

"It's just this one favor" he sighs. "Look, I can't loose this thing, okay? I get the credits I need to finally leave this shithole. If I don't show up, they'll hand it to someone else. You may not believe it, but it's very demanded"

People making lines to be emotionally abused by your former IM professor? Sure thing!

"Can't you tell someone, though? I'm sure they'll understand and you can go back once this cold is gone"

"I already did so, and they told me to show up or quit, due to the wait list of people applying for the position" you roll your eyes at your university's antics and their bullshit policies. "I don't trust anyone else to not fuck it up, but you. You'll just have to tell him about this minor inconvenience, and Mr. Pascal will understand. You know, I'm kind of his favorite guy in there..."

Great, just what you needed.

"Sorry to break it to you, but as soon as I walk through that door, all that pretty boy privilege would be gone"

"Please, y/n. Please"

"You'll never ask me any other favor?"

"No" he looks rather desperate; it's funny. "Hell, you can use the lake cabin for your birthday bash if you-"

"Deal"

Were you that easy to buy, huh? What does that say about you? Fucking ass sell-out.

Okay, but a birthday party in that all glass modern cabin with a deck and a jacuzzi does sound tempting. Who could be blamed? Not you, who will have to face her biggest foe in exchange for one wild bash.

You take a deep breath, imagining the lake water splashing and champagne on the deck (ugh, Jin's parents had a waterbike too. They were loaded), before knocking on his office. The door flings open, almost hitting you in the face, and there he is: Mr. Pascal, with his brown hair with white on the sides, loose curl over his face. Your fingers definitely don't itch to touch it, of course.

He's sporting a grumpy look (when doesn't he?), his big hands (you had forgotten how big they were) holding a bunch of papers (great, work!).

"Goddamn it, Jin. I was about to call you for standing me up, you know I hate when people don't tell me-"

He stops on his tracks, and that all too familiar scowl deepens his face.

"You"

Seethed with such venom, it's quite scary. Your legs tremble, yet your pussy clenches.

"Yes, me" you can't help but let out a little laugh at his antics. What did Jin said about him not remembering you? Well, can't be blamed; you weren't easy to forget.

His jaw clenches while looking down at you, but this time, you don't dare to flinch.

"What are you doing here?"

"See, Jin is my friend-"

He interrupts you, body frame resting on the door with a relaxed posture, but his shoulder looks tense.

"Oh, I liked him. Liked, as in past tense" he emphasizes, like a child throwing a tantrum. "How can a kid like him be friends with you?"

"We're best friends, thank you very much. As a matter of fact, I'm here as a favor" you hand him Jin's written apology, that may have one or two sneezes over it. "He's sick, and I'll cover him for a week, just so he doesn't loose the position. Said you would understand"

"I do" he replies on an instant, "you I don't"

"I passed your subject. With honors, even after you made my life impossible" you reply. "I'm the best candidate, face it"

He's rendered speechless for a moment, before he bites back:

"What makes you think I won't do it again?"

Now it's you who doesn't know what to say. It's infuriating how he still keeps winning.

"That's right" a wicked smile adorns his face. "Stay and find out"

Boy, don't you love a challenge?

So you stayed, much to his surprise. The bastard probably thought you were still the same scaredy mouse from first year.

Oh, it was delicious the way his whole face fell at your entrance next morning, how he quickly replaced it and introduced you in a clipped tone.

"Where's Jin?" a girl sitting in the front row had asked, more students joining to ask for his absence. You wonder if your friend's popularity stems from his brain or looks.

"He's sick" you answered. "But don't worry, he'll be back soon"

"Thank God" Mr. Pascal voices out loud.

You shoot him a look. He wasn't joking about not making it easy, was he?

"Oh, I didn't take you as a man of faith, Mr. Pascal, but you're right. It's important to thank our Lord everyday. So, thank Him for this week where I get to offer my suffering. In reward" you turn to face him, all the class silent as they take in your weird exchange, the atmosphere tense, "I'll never see your face again"

This time, you weren't going down without a fight.

"We'll see about that"

There it was: the fire to your gasoline.

So you pushed back, and argued everytime you disagreed, things that weren't part of your work but you still did because well, if he was still hellbent on making you suffer, you weren't going to make it easy for him this time.

If students argued against him, you took their side; even if just one did, you had their back.

You finished grading, but when returning the papers, you'd let them fall with a heavy thud over his desk, not even daring to look back.

At the time he'd talk to you, you wouldn't answer, instead just doing so, but no words to be uttered his way, as if he wasn't worth the effort. Not even a clipped okay.

And you enjoyed this; savored how he'd take every one of your petty actions with his full chest, eyebrows furrowed and face red in anger, but never answering, just silent, like deep in thought, a cold and calculated look overtaking his brown eyes.

Then the veins on his neck would pop as the ones of his tight white-knuckled grip on his mug. He'd speak up, and his voice had your legs shaking for some friction, wet spots now more often on your lingerie.

That he didn't know.

All he did was you were now more than a pebble on his shoe: a huge fucking stone, going down the hill, ready to squash him.

But boy, didn't he love a challenge?

It's Friday, aka last day of Torture Week.

You drop the quizzes for next Monday on his desk with the same harsh movement you had done all week.

"And it's over" you announce, papers plopping next to him, who is writing something. Mr. Pascal's hand moves, his L much longer than it should be. He looks up at you, annoyed, but his eyes flash with a hint of amusement.

"I see you can talk"

"Well, you already know me, Mr. Pascal. So you should be aware of what I can do"

"Love if you'd enlighten me"

He leans back on his chair, arms resting behind his head. It's hard not to take a brief glance to the flexing muscles, or how he's rolled up his sleeves, arms bulking up with the action, the fabric tense. It's hot in here. Wait, or has it gotten hot? Your face feels red, and when he catches your lingering gaze, he smiles devilishly.

"Like what you see, Ms. Y/n?"

No. You refuse to let him win this again, so close to the end.

"The release from prison?" you regain your posture, "very much"

"You may be a loud-mouthed brat, always knowin' what to say. I'll give that to you" he props himself to the front, elbows now resting on the desk as his eyes scan yours with a shade of dark covering them. "But a good liar you ain't"

You try to remain still, face emotionless, but your professor is a man of experience; an expert on his field. He who investigates, who has majored to be able to notice every small detail that can contribute to a hypothesis, has now formulated his.

You want this as much as he wants to.

You, with your wobbly legs and nervous eyes, glancing up at him with a hungry gaze that matches his own, despite your angry posture and irritated tone. You, that picked up petty arguments just to rile him up, because you liked the command for power on his voice. You like this, didn't you? Feeling small and weak, fangs pointy, just barely gracing the skin; the edge what set your skin on fire.

He isn't one to hold grudges (he's just mean all the time), but Pedro is willing to show you he hasn't forgotten about the years, and he'll be more than willing to fuck that bitchy attitude out of you.

"Hello?" you snap your fingers in front of him, "are you there?"

He snaps back to reality, your face covering his vision. In his position, he gets rewarded with a delicious peak at your breasts and the nude lingerine hiding them. He can imagine the perked nipples and the rosy plush skin he'd love to trace his tongue with, because even when you speak in a harsh voice, your eyes speak another thing. Fuck, he thinks he can even smell your arousal.

"I was talking to you" you don't even give him room to reply; snotty ass. "Said I was already leaving"

He thinks of himself as merciful. So he stands up, your bodies barely brushing against each other for a second, before he's opening the door, towering over you. He's so close, you can see the grey hairs mixed with the brown ones on his beard and mustache. God, you can smell him: coffee, cigarrettes, sandalwood and leather.

"You're free, Ms. Y/n" he follows your line of joke from before. "Just, humor me with one last thing"

You glance over at the clock above his desk. It's barely noon.

"Yes?" as dry as possible.

"Why did you accept?"

It's a simple question, really, but it manages to catch you off guard.

His tone is so different, maybe that's why: it's low, impossibly low. For less attentive people, it could even pass as a growl. But you hear, the amusement and dare laced within the velvety tone.

"Because I'm a good friend" you manage to speak, his body caging your smaller frame against the door.

This is ridiculous. You can leave at any time. Hello? Have your legs not gotten the memo?

"I didn't think you were capable of good things"

You huff, annoyed. "Well, I passed your subject, didn't I?"

He clicks his tongue.

"Many before you, and more after you have. Doesn't make you special, y/n"

Your name alone leaves a savory and toxic sweetness on his tongue.

"But how many of those you remember?" Mr. Pascal shots up an eyebrow, confused. "Tell me, how many can you name? That's right. I changed your life, whether you like it or not"

He's quick to reply. "Bullshit"

"Bullshit" you mock his angry tone, "but you recognized me the moment you opened the door. It didn't even take you seconds, hell, you hadn't even fully seen me and you knew who I was. Doesn't take a great investigator to figure it out, does it? So I take you missed me"

He can't believe your fucking mouth.

But then Pedro's remembering the way his pants tightened when you started to stand up to him, getting even worse when he still managed to shut you up. Fuck, the way you had smirked when you approved his subject during your last project delivery. He let you, because well, you had earned it: for the way your image had been the perfect companion for his hand pistoning his cock will full force, thinking of that loud mouth of yours gagged with it. Or when you walked past him in the hallways, wrapped in your own little bubble, your carefree laugh erupting and bouncing off the walls, tickling every hair of his body.

Part of him had accepted Jin to be his TA if that meant having a piece of you, even if a small connection, to you. Did you think he wouldn't know? That he wouldn't see you walking by in those small skirts that rode over when you bent? He noticed you; after all, you were in the same place most of your day.

You had excelled his subject after all, hadn't you?

So of course you'd notice his stare lingering in your back like a hand over your ass. How his eyes would dart to the skirts you wore on purpose, attentive to the moment you'd drop a pen on accident and your panties would be on sight, a wet spot in the middle you hadn't even noticed that smelled. Fuck, and wasn't it sweet?

You really feel like you have won this, don't you?

"Miss you?" Pedro hisses the words out. "I didn't miss you. What I think is happenin', is that me missing you is what you want"

"And I think you're repeating the same words and fumbling thoughts because you're a big egocentric prideful asshole who can't admit he's got the hots for his younger student"

"God. Don't you have such a filthy mouth, baby?"

Before he can register and you've fully let the nickname sink, your hand slaps his face with a potent movement that reverberates across his office's walls.

"You're a fucking piece of work, Mr. Pascal" but instead of being offended (or you don't know, fight back?), he remains silent. "You dirty old spoiled prick. Think I would never fight you back? That you can get away with whatever this is?"

"Whatever this is?" he chuckles, a sound rumbling deep from his chest. "Well, pretty girl, ain't you started this?"

He looms over you, hot breath carressing your face softly.

"Me? Unbelievable" you scoff. "You're one to talk, humiliating a poor freshman"

"Poor? You were distracted, in my class! Did your parents never teach you manners?!" his words leave droplets of spit that land in your face. "I had to put your stupid ass in place; that'll teach you something"

"Like what?" you taunt, recklessly, chest up and down with uneven breaths.

"I see it didn't work" his body language does an immediate switch. You remember a predator ready to strike their prey. "Maybe I should've tried harder"

His eyes do a wild dance over your body as so do yours.

Lip. Eyes. Skin. Cleavage. His tight pants. Biceps. Legs. Hair.

Before you can register, he's got you pinned against his desk, door closed in a loud move. There's a click sound somewhere in between, but you're too busy feeling his big hands grabbing your face roughly, as if he wants to consume your skin and feel your very bones on his calloused tips.

His lips are impossibly wet and eager, hands needily gropping your body. He pushes all his weight over you as he deepens the kiss, his tongue now inside your mouth, making you falter.

You let out a breathy moan when your back hits the desk, the wood digging your skin, but he swallows it whole, making it impossible for you to talk.

"Mmph-"

"Mmph?" he mocks between kisses, not giving you the chance to take a breath, or maybe he was scared you would get the time to think and would push him away. "Just my mouth got you all worked up, baby? Can't even speak"

Your fingers run through his hair for support, curls between your fingers. They felt soft, like they were meant to be combed through over and over again. He dives his head in your neck, hot mouth wet with its trail of kisses, making you squirm.

"I see" his breath ghosts over your reddened skin, "you wanted this just as much, don't you? This boys aren't enough for you?"

Every hair on your body prickles, his mouth claiming every spot he could, bites and hickeys all over your skin. You whine, pouting your lips, missing his already.

"It's okay, baby" he laughs, "just gotta show them who's enough for you" he grunts, "a man"

Mr. Pascal takes off your shirt, well, basically rips the poor thing, his hands relieved to finally touch your breasts. He roughly grabs one of them, and you bite your lip so hard, you almost feel the bitter metallic taste in your mouth. He lowers himself, despite his aching joints, to play with your hardened nipples, lapping them with his warm tongue, sucking and swirling until they turn swollen.

Your hand finds its way to his formal pants, fingers gracing over the fabric, feeling his cock straining against it. Just like you imagined it: big, like his presence. If it could, your pussy would jump in excitement, realistically just throbbing and leaking.

You untie his belt and buttons so you can begin to rub over his boxers. You can feel him trying to meet your touches, grinding onto your palm. He groans, deeply, enjoying your hungry stare, steady beat, parted lips and wet cunt.

He bucks his hips against you, propping himself on the wall behind his desk, which had moved from its original position thanks to the mayhem.

"You clearly don't know what you got yourself into, baby. But don't worry, I ain't letting you go just yet"

He pulls the skirt up, revealing the damp panties and mess between your legs. He licks his lips before rough digits find your wet folds. His fingers carress your impossibly tight walls, coating them with your slick.

"So fucking tight" he groans against your collarbones, "thought of yourself as uptight but I can fucking smell you dripping, you dirty slut. Could tell you loved provoking me becayse that's the only way your snotty ass can get off"

"F-fuck you, Mr. Pascal" you manage to choke out.

"Where are your manners? After how I've rewarded your big mouth, you bitch" he takes off your panties with skilled practice, the piece falling to the floor with a weak sound. Your bare cunt makes you shiver. "You think you're smart, baby? You think you can play these games and face no consequences at all?" he tuts. "No, Ms. Y/n, you know I hate wastin' my time, so be a good girl and don't make this harder for you, get that?"

You whine at his words, but refuse to shut your mouth.

"Oh, I'm smart" you laugh, "smart enough to have you on your knees for me"

An ugly grin spreads across his features.

"I will never bend for a bratty pretentious slut like you" he grips your hair with force, leaving your neck exposed, "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, stupid cock hungry whore. You wanted my attention? It's all yours"

Then, with a low, almost feral growl, he grabs your hips and hoists you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He sweeps the papers and books onto the floor with a clatter, setting you down on the edge.

"You better behave, baby" Mr. Pascal bites your lower lip, "don't want people to know what we're doing in here, do you? Or would you want them to know just how much of a slut you are, spread on my desk as your cunt drips for me?"

He steps between your legs, pushing them further apart, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. He leans in, his face inches from yours, voice low in a threatening rasp.

"I'll behave, I promise" mind in blank.

"No loud mouth bitchy stuck up attitude?"

You free his cock, hands scouting his shaft, his base, and balls. You fondled them while his fingers lingered closer to your pussy.

"No"

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked stupid and used for my pleasure? Well, get ready, because I'm not going to stop until I've had my fill of this sweet little cunt"

He savors at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Let me-"

He laughs, seeing how you desire to guide his cock towards your entrance.

"Eager, little one?" he teases.

"Yes" you whimper, "I need you so badly, papi"

Your plea mixed with Spanish sends him on edge. His eyes darken with a primal, almost feral hunger at your desperate plea.

His voice is strained, rough with barely restrained lust.

"Fuck, you needy little thing. You want to take my dick until this desk breaks?"

He rubs the swollen head of his dick against your dripping slit, coating it in your arousal. Then, with one powerful thrust, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in your tight, hot cunt.

"So tight" he groans, starting to move and setting a brutal pace from the very beginning. The desk shakes and creaks beneath you with each forceful thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the empty office. He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his pelvis against your clit. He sets a relentless, punishing rhythm, determined to fuck you into oblivion.

It's a goddamn view in here: him above you, droplets of sweat falling to your face, pristine hair now disheveled.

At this point, you were clenching so hard it hurt, walls fluttering around his massive girth. But he's greedy, and he's pushing himself deeper and deeper.

"Runnin' your mouth but now all quiet as you take all of me, hungry greedy whore" he digs his fingers into your cheeks harshly, but you find pleasure in the sting the pain causes. "Bet this is all you been thinking since you started talking back, huh? Don't worry, daddy's got you"

Surprisingly, he leans down, capturing your mouth in a dominating kiss, tongue invading your mouth. His hand comes up to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly, a silent reminder of who you belong to.

"God. You're wet everywhere, baby"

His sweaty chest presses itself onto your tits as he forced his cock deeper within you, the plaid shirt sticking with sweat to his ablazed body, temperature high.

"T-the desk" you protest numbly; mind-fucked.

And oh, boy, doesn't he enjoy this view? Your fluttering eyelids, hazy eyes and trembling body.

So he keeps fucking you: pounding into you, rolling his hips skillfully, taking up all the space within you.

"I don't give a damn fuck about the desk, Ms. Y/n. I'm gonna fuck that attitude of yours until all you know is my name" he leans down, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. His hands grip your hips with bruising force, pulling you harder against him with each violent thrust. "Gonna break the desk, hell, fuck you on the floor if necessary, but you ain't leaving this office until my cum drips from your legs and everyone knows your tight little cunt is mine"

The desk groans and wobbles beneath you, the legs scraping against the floor as Pedro fucks you with wild abandon. The sound of your moans and the crude, wet slap of skin on skin echoes obscenely in the room.

His pubic bone grinds against your clit with each thrust, the rough friction sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. His cock hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your toes curl and your back arch off the desk.

He feels your walls starting to flutter around him, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches. Mr. Pascal leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Why don't you be a good girl and tell daddy how good he's making you feel? Show me and everyone else what a desperate little slut you are, waiting for me to fill you up nicely with my seed"

He makes out of you a loud mess, a series of sweet sounds falling from your lips. You clench and he twitches, his digits holding your waist, keeping you in place for him.

"Good girl" he praises, "now you're gonna take it all, milk me dry, you greedy cocksleeve"

His thrusts become erratic and sloppier. The older man can feel your walls starting to flutter around him, body tensing as your orgasm approaches. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a dark, intimate rasp.

"Will you be a good girl?"

"Yes!" you cry out, "don't stop!"

You hated this humilliation, how easy it is for him to fuck you with his big cock. You fucking hated him. But didn't he make you feel so good.

"Then come on my cock, bitch"

You didn't think it was capable, no, but you did. A first, another first when it came to Mr. Pascal.

You squirt. You fucking squirted.

Pedro lets out a feral roar of triumph when your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, your release gushing out and soaking his dick and the desk, papers and shit beneath you (no, not the quizzes! You had printed them this morning). He savors the way you throw your head back, eyes rolling until they turn white on your fucked-out face.

"Such a sweet cunt, baby" he praises. "Milk me dry, come on"

Your slick walls milking him dry pushes him over the edge, clenching around him, and he knew it was over. He snaps, arching his back as he roughly moans. With one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself balls-deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he starts to come. Thick, scorching ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your womb with his potent seed, still pushing the remnants inside when he grinds against you, his pelvis pressed tight to yours as he rides out the waves of his intense orgasm. His grip on your hips tightens, fingermarks surely to be left in the soft flesh as he holds you in place, ensuring you take every last drop of his release.

"That's it, pretty baby. Can't even speak, can you?" he captures your mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. Like he owns you. "As you can see, I'm a man of my word"

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly. His eyes, when they meet yours, are dark and intense, filled with a primal, almost feral satisfaction.

It's humilliating, really, how your lips search for more. You need him, badly, despite how shit he treats you and how wrong all of this is. Is this a win or a loose?

"Good girl" he repeats, his sweaty forehead clashing against yours. The desk creaks yet again. You love when he praises you, and you whine on instintic, making him laugh. "Learned your place just yet? Listen carefully, Ms. Y/n: no matter what you do or say, I'll always win, get it? And you'll be nothing but a needy uptight slut who begs for my attention and cock"

He pulls out of you slowly, his softening dick slipping from your well-used hole with a gush of their combined releases. He tucks himself away, doing up his pants with quick, efficient movements. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, smearing a streak of his cum across it.

"Go on. Taste it, and tell me how it feels"

Your tongue does a lazy movement, making your lips moist thanks to the saliva and his cum, like a fucking gloss. You shouldn't enjoy this, really, but your body shivers when you feel the taste of him going down your throat as you swallow.

"Good" you manage to speak, salt on the tip of your tongue.

"Good" he repeats, voice low and menacing, "because we're just getting started"

[bespoke-nautilus]

1. You owe me a mansion.

2. YES TO ALL THIS!!

It's like they can't decide if they want him to be a clone of Tim, the team bruiser, or something else entirely!

I understand that some of that is a result of his duel origins - he's, quite literally, had both origin stories. I think they need to address that by making the TimClone!Jason an alternate universe variant or What if? story

And another problem is that...I don't think DC uses character sheets anymore? Or they don't enforce them. Because Jason's (and everyone else's) builds and heights change drastically between artists.

In WFA, he's just got the same build as...well, everyone else. I like that art, but everyone has a Bishie build.

But in the comics and movies, he swings wildly between "Skinny Acrobat" and "Team Tank, Warhammer 40k" builds. Which suggests, to me, that they must not have a defined character sheet for him! Which is bizarre!

And I think the hair has to be part of that. It feels like they designed the Red Hood outfit, but, since that outfit obscures his face, nobody ever designed a face, and so we just have a never-ending game of artist telephone.

Like, even the scars change locations, constantly! Sometimes his face is covered, sometimes he's just got a single, artfully placed one over his eye! Those are all things that should be static! His height, physique, skin color, and scars swap all over, like Jason is reincarnating between runs!

Damian gets a dose of that too, and I think it's because nobody can agree what they want to do with either of them

Red Hood🦇🩸

Better look at his face. I have a whole essay for this headcanon. I might post it later as a reblog of this post so you see my point. I fear have cooked gang

[jeffrrandell]

Explanation for the connection I made lol 👇

I'm gonna at least slightly explain Tord and Gravy being roommates. I'm not going to lie to you guys, this was a joke made because when my friends and I were watching "Technical Foul" from 8 Crazy Nights we were like "that's like if Tord crashed at Gravys house tbh" and then it turned into "Tord somehow becomes Gravys roommate after he leaves Edds house, for like maybe 2-3 years. And it's almost like a Disney movie. Tords just happy he has a place to stay, and he knows Gravy is just soooooo nice but man is he annoying. So he's not mean to him, he just is autistic and only ever likes Edd anyway basically. But he warms up to em. Gravy works a ton of jobs, and Tord cleans up around the house. And an odd but actually important detail is Gravy smokes weed (because of all of these jobs), and Tord took interest in that. Getting high together kinda made it easier for his nerves to be calmed down, and it made it easier for him to realize "oh Gravy is just a guy". Of course afterwards, Gravy turns back to jumpy goofy Gravy, but Tord learned to appreciate the energy. Tord and Blonzie were already slight acquaintances, actually before Tord met Gravy. Somehow for whatever reason Tord ends up at the auto shop he works at, probably asked about a pile of spare parts that looked like junk and Blonzie said "take em". So they had that for a while. They're mechanically intelligent together. Plus Tord finds his stunts REALLY cool, as he loves destruction too. He'd love to invent little things for him to try out. They also both have "I'm gonna be silent now" autism. Anyway, he never in his life expected for Gravy to be like "meet my boyfriend" and "oh whataya know, it's the guy that calls me Tiny and gives me spare parts". Not sure if it makes sense for Tord to still be living with Gravy when he gets with Blonzie or not, but either way they'd make a really weird fun trio. Gravy definitely opened up Tords weird side for him. Because Tord is just so closeted around everyone, even Edd didn't know a few secrets about him (for probably crush related reasons, intimidation.) But with Gravy, it sorta didn't matter to him what he told him. He'd listen, and I mean it's sad but. Gravys a huge loser who's pushed around EVERYDAY, and for a bit Tords view on that was "well he has it worse than I do so he can't judge me"

But yeah, they're friends lol

In a WTFuture timeline, this was also a joke that turned out to be something that we all kinda liked. I believe in Tord clone theory btw! Basically one day, Not Tord shows up to Gravys house one day. Reminder that if this is a bad timeline, Blonzie is dead sorry. But yeah Gravy notices something is off about him. Very off. Like, somehow this Tord knows Gravy would call him "buddy" buuut.. Tord never called HIM "buddy". Blah blah blah somehow Gravy is in the Red Army. And I don't mean as a soldier, the last thing Tord wants is for him to die actually. As in any timeline, Gravy will work a million jobs. And that's exactly what he does. I'm talking coffee runs and goofy shit like that. Because to me, yeah Red Leader is "WOAAHH crazy leader man scary he's taking over the world" but it's EDDSWORLD, so he's also "aw man. My helmet stinky" "play just dance with me I'm bored" like y'know. Before this concept, I was like "yup. Gravy is the first to die in this timeline" and then it turned into "Tord wants to keep him alive because he'd be dead bored without him"

And I'm serious it's gets so goofy. To a point where THIS Tord also opens up to Gravy, crying about Edd and being like "I'LL JUST GET RID OF ALL THE COKE IN THE WORLD I CANT LOOK AT IT ANYMORE!!" and then he's like "😲💡" and then Gravy talks about his feelings too.

Potentially as well, since Gravy is trained in medical, he could also technically take care of wounded soldiers and almost act as a doctor but ONLY back at headquarters, he's not allowed to go anywhere he'd be in danger. Anyways. Yup. My sick and twisted mind.

[masterj]

Watching SLOTLT:

....Okay... we need to talk about Sodor's Legend Of The Lost Treasure. Many TTTE fans love it and call it "the best special" and "the peak of CGI Thomas." But we need to face facts. It's far from everyone's favorite and actually the Most Controversial of CGI Thomas.

My stance? I say people who don't like SLOTLT are right- just for not for the valid reasons. Prepare to be roasted.

The movie heavily flanderizes Thomas and ruins his character development throughout the series. It practically takes everything that made him unlikable in the Miller era and turned him back into a complete, 100% irresponsible idiot. Take The Great Discovery, a special VERY similar in plot for example. After his trick on Stanley that demolishes the tower, he actually shows full remorse and tries to make up for his mistake.

In Lost Treasure, that is not the case. Here at the start of the movie he's just like, "I'm number one so I can do what I want!"

And it's not until THE DAY AFTER the Dynamite Incident that it finally sinks in and he's like "Aw it was my fault..."

Plus, he would've been mature enough by now not to let Gordon's teasing get to him. In Season 5, he literally tells Percy to just ignore George's insults and simply does just that.

Why are insults such a big deal to him NOW that he has to run of with Gordon's coaches and derail them??? This doesn't make sense! Yes, he is meant to be cheeky, but how the hell do we go from how he's written in Tale Of The Brave to this?!

So much dumb shit happens that could've and should have been easily avoided. The accidents Thomas cause would've have been stopped in a heartbeat if they ACTUALLY REMEMBERED drivers and firemen exist. When Thomas falls into the cavern? HOW THE HELL are they so unaware of the workmen shouting trying to stop them?! How do they not once look where he is going and see the signs?!

They're not even trying! Look at them in the cab! Up until the accident happens they're practically just chillin'! You're not fooling anybody! Are they high on crack in there??? Are they paying rent in there??? Do they just spontaneously go blind and deaf??? Hello?!?! Wake up and control your fucking train!!!

Let's cut back to the coaches. WHY is Thomas shunting Gordon's coaches when that is NOT his job anymore now that he has his branchline?! That's the whole reason the big engines went on strike and Percy was brought to the railway! Topham has HOW many shunters now? And you're SERIOUSLY gonna tell me not a single one could've done it instead? Look how empty Knapford is!

What about the Diesel Boxcab introduced this season? Why isn't he in this movie to do that instead? Did he die?

Overall, SLOTLT is just a pointless Great Discovery rehash sprinkled with stale RWS references, (which help set up this movie's god awful plot in the first place) returned characters, and cinematic visuals and music pretending it's actually a good movie with a likeable plot. Not only does it take the three-strike formula and fail miserably at making it good, (The three accidents Thomas causes) it can't even remember the show's continuity properly for God's sake! For a what's supposed to be a tribute to the RWS, this is not a good look at all, Andrew Brenner. You did not cook.

What's even worse is that for all these years everyone in this fandom just blindly glazes over everything this movie does wrong and then act like it's illegal for someone not to like it and it's disgusting. This movie single-handedly damaged the entire TTTE fandom for 10 years. 10. FUCKING. YEARS.

We already had a special that did this kind of plot so much better in every way. WHY are we doing it AGAIN??? Why wasn't The Adventure Begins enough for this year???

We did not need this. We did not need any of this shit. Just skip to Season 20 and you are not missing too much, I promise you. Peak CGI Thomas my ass. HALF the CGI specials are the least bit more deserving than this shitshow.

This movie sucks. We do not speak of it, I'm done talking about it, it's not canon, it doesn't deserve to be, it never existed. It's dead to me.

All it's got going for it are the visuals, voice acting and music, Donald, Douglas, Alfie and Oliver returning, and the Miniature Engines introduced. That's it.

Just because a movie looks 'cinematic' does not automatically make it good.

[gayofthefae]

We've talked about how while everything is taken seriously for Byler, even jokes being only jokes they tell in bonding and not us laughing AT them, while only platonic or sad moments are treated that way for Milkvan but romance is consistently treated as funny in a way that they're not in on (see: the entirety of season 3) and therefore we are laughing AT them, but let's also talk about how unimportant scenes are cut.

And funny isn't "important". It can serve another purpose - Steve's awkward flirting with Nancy in 4x05 also advances their romantic plot which leads to her friendship with Robin, for example, important. He is also referencing Dustin here, who he has been behaving oddly towards and is a big motive for his behavior this whole season to be answered.

So what, then, is the purpose of Mike and El's "comedic" moments? Oh, they broke up that way to be funny? Wrong. They broke up that way because the writers wanted them to break up and wrote it to fly under the radar and be a little nicer for you. If season 3 for them was just filler comedy, why even have it at all? Why not just cut to the chase? They said themselves the pacing ended up TOO condensed with only 4 seasons but that their original plan was 4, so with our current knowledge, it would make no difference and there would be no need to "fill" anything!

But it was important. It did mean something. Just like Mike's inability to say "I love you" was played for laughs in season 3 only to trick you into thinking it was resolved before calling you out for that assumption and bringing it back serious, all their issues have a purpose. Everything "funny" they do or say about their romance is just something under the radar to later be brought back to your face and say "why did you dismiss that?"

I've said before, season 4 Mike and El is just season 3 Mike and El in a different tone. Like those "movies in a different genre" trailers. It isn't funny anymore. But it's the same exact events. And what that's saying is "this was always what was happening, you just weren't taking it seriously before - but they always were".

Jokes don't mean pointless here. Jokes mean distinct setups they want you to miss.

They love their rewatchability. They want it overtly present but consistently dismissed on the first watch. How? Make it funny. But the funny is never the reason. The funny is always the cover. And the reason is very very important.

So no. They didn't break up for comedy. Had it not been comedic, it wouldn't have been absent. It just would have looked like this:

It isn't Mike and El endgame but sometimes there's conflict. It's Mike and El relationship issues but sometimes they're hidden.

Sometimes they can be swept under the rug. Sometimes, Mike can lie that everything is okay and you'll believe him. She'll believe him. They didn't make it mean nothing. They wanted you to think it meant nothing. So you'd be right there with her, with him, with Will - as always - and with everybody.

But you saw. It was important enough that you saw it for it to be in the final cut.

If your best argument for the fact that Mike and El start having problems as soon as they get together is "filler" then I've gotta teach you about this thing called "writing". Everything is important. They don't have the most conflict because they're the 'main couple'. And they don't have the most conflict because it's funnier that way. They have the most conflict because there's a cause of it. A plot-pertinent cause that they couldn't cut even when they go down to the bare essentials.

[hereternalsins]

One day, I won't love you anymore.

- rose ( herdivinemuse via instagram)

Five years of memories. Two years of silence. And now, three months of trying to rebuild what was broken, only to find that some cracks run deeper than time can heal.

She watches him across their favorite café—the same one where they used to spend Sunday mornings years ago. His coffee order hasn't changed: black, no sugar. But something else has. The way he holds himself, perhaps, or the careful distance in his eyes even when he smiles.

"Do you know?" she begins, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. "In these five years, you've always been perfect and irreplaceable in my heart. But if we continue like this, I feel that... one day, I won't love you anymore."

The words hang between them like frost on a window pane—beautiful in their honesty, terrible in their implications. She watches them land, sees him flinch slightly, the way he always does when truth cuts too close to bone.

They'd thought it would be easier the second time around. After all, they knew each other's stories, could map each other's scars. The muscle memory of loving each other remained intact through those two years apart—the way he still reaches to brush her hair back when she's tired, how she automatically orders extra pickles for his burgers.

But with the familiar rhythms came the old ghosts. His tendency to retreat into silence when troubled. Her habit of expecting him to read her mind. The same misunderstandings that drove them apart the first time now hover at the edges of their reconciliation, waiting to reclaim their territory.

They'd spent those two years apart growing, changing, becoming better versions of themselves. She'd learned to voice her needs instead of hoping they'd be noticed. He'd worked on expressing his emotions instead of bottling them up. But somehow, together, they keep slipping back into their old roles—like actors who know their lines too well to play them differently.

"I still find your coffee cups in my apartment," he says quietly. "From before. I never could bring myself to throw them away."

She nods, understanding the weight of small things kept. She too has a box of memories she couldn't discard—movie tickets, dried flowers, photographs where their smiles still held certainty.

"Maybe that's our problem," she replies. "We're trying to fit new people into an old story."

The truth is, loving him has never been the problem. It's the easiest thing she's ever done, as natural as breathing. But loving someone and being able to build a life with them are different things. The past two years taught her that. They both learned it, separately, in their own ways.

"I don't want to lose you again," he says, reaching across the table. His fingers stop just short of hers, a gesture that encompasses everything wrong with their situation—always almost touching, almost understanding, almost getting it right.

"We're not the same people who fell in love five years ago," she tells him. "And we're not the same people who broke up two years ago either. Maybe we need to stop trying to be."

The afternoon light slants through the café windows, casting long shadows across their table. Outside, the city moves in its endless rhythm, indifferent to the small apocalypse happening over cooling coffee cups.

"Then who are we?" he asks, and there's something like hope in his voice—fragile but present.

She looks at him, really looks at him, seeing both the man she fell in love with and the stranger he's become. "Maybe that's what we need to find out," she says. "Not who we were, or who we think we should be, but who we are now."

The silence that follows feels different from their usual ones—not heavy with unspoken words, but open, waiting. Like a blank page rather than a closed book.

"I meant what I said," she continues softly. "You've been perfect and irreplaceable in my heart. But perfect isn't what I need anymore. I need real. I need now. I need us to stop haunting each other with who we used to be."

He nods slowly, and for the first time in months, his smile reaches his eyes. "Then maybe we should start over," he suggests. "Not from five years ago, or from two years ago, but from right here."

She feels something shift in her chest—not the familiar ache of old love, but something newer, something that tastes like possibility. "Hi," she says, extending her hand across the table. "I'm still learning who I am. Would you like to figure it out together?"

This time, when he reaches for her hand, he doesn't stop short.

[zenosanalytic]

When Christians Kill God

I was watching a Big Joel video essay on Nebula this morning(sorry, can't link it rn: he hasn't put it on youtube yet) about the God's Not Dead series of christian-nationalist movies, and it crystalized something for me:

When Nietzsche said "God is Dead"(and I have my Issues with Nietzsche this is not a "Nietzsche is Great" post), he didn't mean god had ltrl had a heart attack or something, nor did he mean ppl didn't BELIEVE in god anymore. He meant "God", as a concept, had lost the explanatory and organizational meaning he felt it had in the past: that "God" was no longer a transcendent and otherworldly point for social cohesion, which provided structure and meaning to society and life, and The Church no longer an institution everyone deferred to and interacted with by dint of its divine-connection, but rather that both had become subordinate to gross political power. He meant that God-as-concept was now a mere rhetorical means to achieve inescapably worldly, political ends(one could fairly argue if "God" had ever been anything BUT that).

There's a moment in one of the latest of these movies subtitled In God We Trust[1](we'll get back to this) that is VERY telling. The hero of the film, a conservative pastor running for congress, is debating a strawman liberal and the liberal says something like "Isn't do unto others the main message of Christianity? Isn't Love Thy Neighbor central to the teachings of Jesus?" to which the hero says "No." both times and then responds "central to the teachings of Jesus, IS Jesus." and follows it up with "the only reason the teachings of Jesus resonate is because he was the son of god" meaning that christianity isn't about following Joshua's teachings or example, but just baldly about worshiping him, as a deity and like:

First off Josh Says(Im going to have to quote the Gospel of John quite extensively here to make a point, so plz excuse that) pretty clearly

I am the way the truth and the life

That how he lived is The Life dedicated to god, and his example the WAY to god, and his life's teachings AND example the TRUTH of god, and reiterates it later when asked by Phillip to show them god by saying

have I been with you all this time, Phillip, and you still do not know me?

in other words 'WHAT HAVE I BEEN TEACHING YOU That you don't know god yet? Haven't you been paying attention to my words and actions?' and later

The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own, but the Father who dwells in me does his works

in other words 'The Words of my Teachings are the Work of God. I. HAVE. BEEN. TEACHING YOU. GOD' and then, still, following from that

Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me, but if you do not, then believe because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.

and later still

Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words, and the word that you hear is not mine but is from the Father who sent me

It Could-Not-Be-Fucking-Clearer: Joshua is saying DIRECTLY 'If you believe in me you will live by my example and my teachings, and if you do not live The Way and The Truth I have brought to you FROM GOD, then you DO.NOT. believe in me' His message could not be clearer.

The people who made God's Not Dead: In God We Trust made it's culminating moment a DIRECT RENUNCIATION of Joshua's teachings, and John 14 specifically, in favor of worshiping divinity in-and-of-itself. They reject his life, his teachings, his works --Everything the Gospels equate directly to Joshua and through him to God-- to merely worship a god for being a god, and in doing so mark themselves out as not christian at all. They DO NOT keep his words, and so they do not love him, and they are PROUD OF THIS!

So, No, God's Not Dead: In God We Trust(which you CLEARLY DONT DO, Actually): Christ is NOT "the central message of christianity", his WORDS are his BODY and those who KEEP them in their Hearts make themselves a HOME FOR GOD. When you reject his Words, you reject his Way, you reject his Life, you reject God, You. Reject. Christ.

I am no christian, but by the standards of the professed beliefs of the people who made this work, of the VERY TEXT they claim is their inspiration and truth, bowing down to divinity is NOT Enough. You HAVE to Walk the Way; you MUST Accept his Words.

But more to my point: What better proof that "God Is Dead", no longer a pillar to build your life around and bring ppl together by, now nothing more than a tool for unscrupulous power-seekers, than a gang of wealthy liars calling themselves ~Christians~ proudly celebrating their Rejection of "The Way The Truth The Life" in favor of scraping at divinity's feet, as a tawdry tactic to drum up votes for an election.

They Spit on their God and call it "Faith".

[1]That they'd name it this is particularly galling, given everything else, because of course that Wasn't The Original Motto of the US, E Pluribus Unum(Out of Many, One) is, but rather one adopted in 1956 after a long campaign of political christians campaigning for it. In other words: That "In God We Trust" is the official US motto is yet another example of God being reduced from something holy to a political football. ↩︎

[fanonical]

Did you ever get my ask? I asked about what to do when a child loves something by a problematic author. How do you go about telling them if they’re too young? SHOULD you tell them? I’m talking about current 10 year old HP fans and children who like the Coraline movie. What do we do when it’s them and not adults? We forget about the target audience too much when we talk about things like this as if it were exclusively childhood nostalgia of Millenials/Gen Z

For fuck's sake, I didn't want to rise to the bait here, but this is making me mad because it's such a straw argument, so fuck it, I'm taking the bait. For context, this is anon's first ask:

Anon, first off, you are responding to a post that is five years old and about a subject that we pointedly do not post about anymore, and that alone makes me think you're not responding in good faith, but whatever.

Look, I work in a fucking library. We have HP books. If a child comes up to me and asks 'hey where's the HP books' I am not going to a) kick them in the face, b) tell them they're an idiot or c) refuse to answer. I am going to tell them where the fucking HP books are. I don't put them on displays I make, but I don't censor them, because we are legally not allowed to censor books in the library.

But I guess you're asking more if this is a kid who's in my life, as opposed to a kid who I just kinda come across. So, okay, I have a 9 year old neighbour whose family are friends with mine, we play video games together occasionally when her mum and dad need someone to watch her. And this kid reads books! And this kid reads fantasy books.

If I was seriously talking to her about the HP books, I might tell her about JKR! I would say something like 'I used to like the HP books, but then I learned that the author said some really nasty things about trans people like me. Now I don't like them so much any more.' And we could have a conversation about that, you know! I've talked to this kid about transphobia in terms that are appropriate for her age. We've had discussions about gender before. I think she'd listen to me, and form her own fucking opinion about it! 'I don't like the author of the HP books because she has said some nasty things' is a concept you can communicate to a five year old.

But also like. You're kind of acting like by taking away HP from this (hypothetical in your ask) kid they don't have any other books. Which...isn't true? If all copies of the HP books disappeared off the face of the earth tomorrow, kids would be reading other stuff, as they are currently reading other stuff! My 9 year old neighbour is a huge Jacqueline Wilson fan, she loves the Daisy Meadows rainbow fairy books. I want to introduce her to the Morrigan Crow books. We could get retro and start introducing kids to the Edge Chronicles, I fucking loved those books. Artemis Fowl. A Series of Unfortunate Events. There are so many other book series for kids in this world. I work in a fucking library! I can tell you that the kids are into Tom Gates, Dogman, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Percy Jackson, Babysitter Club, Dork Diaries, and (exasperated sigh) David Walliams books, based on a sample size of every kid I encounter at work. I get asked for all of them far more than I do for HP, actually.

I don't think you'd be ruining every kid's lives by taking away One Series from them. (Particularly not one that's losing some relevancy every day - and I mean that in the sense that it's not an ongoing series, the last book came out in 2007. Nearly 20 years ago. For a nine or ten year old, that's almost double their entire life.) And I don't think you necessarily would be taking it away from them to say 'hey this is the reason I don't like these books'. I trust your average ten year old to be able to have a reasonably mature conversation. You're making it sound like they're all Oliver Twist holding out their gruel bowl saying 'please sir I only read one book'.

Anyway. All this to say, I think kids have the ability to have conversations about media. And there are other books in the world. So, no, taking HP or Coraline or whatever away from kids is hardly snatching candy from a baby. Kids are smarter than you think.

[useless-catalanfacts]

Re the ask about whether pro-Catalan/independence supporters tend to be left-wing, weirdly I've had Spaniards try to convince me that pro-Catalanism/independence is a right-wing movement, but they've never been able to take that further than a bald assertion -- it sounds more like a thought-terminating cliché, and it doesn't square with anything I've seen as an outsider.

Depends on who you ask, Catalans are stereotyped in opposite ways. Speaking Catalan or having a Catalan accent makes us "villagers", "poor and uneducated", and "stupid farmers" until it's the left wing who wants to criticize us, then Catalan makes us "bourgeois" and "never worked a day in their life" and "Catalonia was a flat land with nothing until Spanish people arrived and worked to build it". Catalan is "basically dead", "nobody even speaks it anymore", "it's only spoken by elderly people in villages and everyone else hates it and hates to be associated with it" but when it's more convenient it's "all-powerful", "if you don't speak Catalan they mistreat you", "everyone speaks Catalan all the time just to exclude Spanish speakers". Catalan independence is a "radical anti-capitalist extremist movement full of terrorists" and often gets mixed with "anarchist terrorists" until the person who wants to criticize it would think that's cool, then it's a "right-wing movement based on greed". Everything always has two completely opposite stereotypes, which allows them to criticize without having to actually listen to our experiences or what we have to say, they can decide simply based on their prejudiced beliefs.

They right-wing stereotype is a newer one, it started gaining popularity about 15 years ago at most and lots of Spanish nationalists have been obsessed with it since, even going as far as trying to fund a right-wing Catalan independence movement into existence. It's very strange because it comes out of nowhere, they're just obsessed with wanting it to become true because that would make their argument easy. Catalan people have always (for centuries) been stereotyped as greedy merchants (think the Jewish stereotype, in Spain many of the "jokes" that in English are "a Jewish man does x" in Spanish they're exactly the same word by word but with a Catalan instead; in fact in the 1900s in Spain there was a significant movement of antisemitic Spanish "intellectuals" who argued that Catalan people are "racially Semites") and this stereotyped is deeply believed in by many people in Spain. Thus, it's very easy to wave off pro-independence concerns with "ah see but it's just that they're being greedy! The whole point of independence is that they're secretly rich and don't want to share!". This is an easy way to make Spanish people not need to listen and rethink their prejudices, because holding on to the prejudices is seen as somehow "sticking it to the power", and it breaks leftist solidarity.

An example of how this belief manifests is some of the tweets posted by the Spanish actress Karla Sofía Gascón (the main actress in Emilia Pérez movie):

Translation from Spanish:

1. I'm following the NASA press conference. There's water in Mars. Wow! Luckily NASA aren't Catalans, they would have kept it to themselves.

2. They invited a Catalan pro-independence man to a wedding and he ended up eating alone in a corner, he couldn't stand seeing food be shared with all the guests.

She was literally tweeting about imagined hypothetical horrible Catalan people she imagined. These people aren't real, this didn't happen, she just wanted to talk shit of Catalan people based on stereotypes. (There's another tweet by her calling Catalan independentists Nazi rats and saying she hopes we all die or rot in prison, which is not directly the stereotype we're talking about here but it goes to show where these beliefs end up taking the person who has them).

These aren't unusual and the only reason I'm pulling them out as examples is because she's a famous person and I think it's a better example than random people, but this is a widely-held belief in Spain. It doesn't make sense to paint a whole culture like this, and if we were to look for any clues I think we would find all the opposite, solidarity has always been very important in Catalan culture (like in most cultures throughout history!).

[stuckonmark]

accidents. mark lee

08. #plshelp

"welp, i guess you're stuck with me tonight." mark hits his hands and rubs them together, before leaning back on the couch. you just mumble a "mhm" under your breath, as you take a seat at the dinner table.

"do you want to eat something? i can make you some ramen really quick." mark stands up off the couch, anticipating your answer.

"i already ate with jeno." you don't even bother looking up from your phone, completely unbothered by mark's requests.

"oh right, i forgot." he awkwardly sits back down on the couch and looks down at his hands.

of course, you wanted to listen to jeno's advice. you just couldn't get your body to listen to you. you're very thankful for mark wanting to do things for you, but it's hard for you to show gratitude.

"i'm just gonna head to sleep. i have to get up early for practice tomorrow." mark just gives you a nod and you get up from your seat, heading to his room.

you tuck yourself into mark's bed. you're starting to get used to mark's bed now. it smelled like him and felt warm and cozy. although you felt comfortable in his bed, you were having trouble sleeping. you kept tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable spot. right when you rolled over, mark quietly comes into the room. "can't sleep?"

you opened your eyes and looked up at him. "yeah, not really." you sighed, as you pulled the blanket over your head.

"got something on your mind?" he sat down towards the edge of the bed.

"i don't know. i think i'm just ready to get back to playing. it's so dreadful watching mina play in my spot- oh wait, sorry. i forgot y'all are like seeing each other or whatever-" mark chuckled and cut you off. "i'm not seeing mina anymore."

you pulled the blanket off you and sat up. "oh i'm sorry. i didn't mean to bring her up-" "yn, you're fine. talk to me normally. i'm not gonna bite."

"i just want to play again. i'm just in an ankle brace now, which makes me feel better, but i still can't play. ugh, it's driving me insane." you were rambling at this point, which was very out of the ordinary for you.

"everything's okay, yn. let time do it's thing. don't stress over it. how about this, let's watch a movie." mark suggested, as he scooted closer to you.

"mark, i have to get up early tomorrow for practice and i have-"

"stop stressing! c'mon it'll be fun. let me show you my personal favorite, spiderman~" mark pulled you up out of bed, carefully, but urgently because of how excited he was.

"ugh fine.. just don't do anything.. weird.."

previous — m.list — next

notes. today was so miserable for me but yasss new chapter!!!! i’m so over accidents ngl.. i’m ready to just post everything!

taglist. open! @mmjhh1998 @haluenx @urlocalbeaner5 @cloudmrk @dudekiss3r @iluv7tn @jae-n0 @kikookii @remgeolli @lyleo @wumutititititi @kittydollzz @nctdreamchaser

[haydenthewitch]

imagine buck sleepwalking as a kid becuse he's super stressed becuse maddie is gone and his parents hate him (or at least thats what he belives) and he's super lonely all the time so he sleepwalks/sleeptalks about not wanting to be alone

and eventualy he moves around, travles, and he feels less like world us just him. it's big, it's ever expanding, and it doesn't feel so lonely anymore.

when he moves to LA the world gets smaller again, in a good way. all of his family is in the city, everyone important to him is one phone call and (If LA traffic allows) 30 minutes away at all times.

So of course, when eddie movies, he catches that lonleness feeling again. and he starts sleepwalking agian. at first buck doesn't do anything about it. he's just sleep walking to his kitchen, or to the couch (that is technicaly eddies but is in the loft for safe keeping.) it goes on for about two weeks and thankfully he's not done it at the fire house yet, but it starts to get scary when he starts sleepwalking out of the apartment at like 2 to 3 am. so he makes a nurology appointment, becuse hopefully the doctor can help him with his issues. but he has to wait for a month becuse doctors suck and sometimes its like that.

he's counting down the days (and double padlocking his front door in the hopes he'll stop waking up on random LA streets)

the weekend before his appointment he's on shift, when it happens. Unfortuantly it's particularly bad. He wakes up, and he's in the firehouse kitchen. Tears are streaming down his face. Hen is holding him by the shoulders coatching him through 4-4-8 breathing, telling him not to have a panic attack and that he's not alone, he's in the firehouse and everything is going to be okay. Chim is looking panicked over her shoulder, and bobby is giving him a concerned heartbroken look.

It's bobby, pulling him aside into his office, who tells him that not only was he sleepwalking, he was saying things in his sleep. Supposidly, it was a wet, heartbroken plea.

"Eddie. please don't leave. please, please, i miss you eddie, please don't leave me.... I can't be alone again, please eddie, please be the one to stay..."

"Buck," Bobby says gravely. "if there's something you need to say to him, you should say it. this will only contunie to haunt you if you don't."

[crowbotss]

I forget if I already sent this ask or not but do you have a favorite Transformers dynamic between characters that you wish showed up more often in canon and/or in the fandom?

Hello anon! No, I do not recall getting any asks of the sort before, but thank you for asking nonetheless.

As for your question, I've two dynamics I absolutely crave, in fanon and canon. Number one of all time is my darling little shitstarter lambo twins!

First of all, why is it the case that, ever since the g1 cartoon and the comics, has Sunstreaker been completely left out of most canon transformer media? Sideswipe's popped up a good few times since (Armada, RiD2015, Bay movies), but they always leave Sunny out of it for whatever reason. They're a set and shouldn't be seperated :<

Maybe I'm biased because I'm a twin and a giant Sunstreaker fan, but I really wish hasbro would pick their whole dynamic back up in some mainline property (I don't even care if they're side characters, I'm desperate). They've charmed me ever since I watched the g1 cartoon, and I've always get so disappointed whenever I see Sideswipe somewhere without his brother (they don't even elude to him being somewhere off-screen or anything, he simply doesn't exist!).

As for fanon Sunny and Sides, I'm glad that fandom picks up some slack from all the lack of Sunnys, but I also feel like we could do with more Sunny&Sides-centric fanfics that aren't, ah, incest porn. Also, the commonly-referenced 'twin-bond' is very very interesting, along with their general backstory as gladiators in Kaon like Megatron. Combined with the mild consensus among fans that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are some of the youngest Autobots, I feel like there's just so much you can do with these characters--but unfortunately, since they hardly show up in any official properties anymore, they aren't the most popular subject of fan-content.

EHEM, enough about my favorite condement-colored duo, my second pick for my favorite underrated dynamic is Starscream and Sunstorm.

I would love more of Sunstorm and. . . well, anyone (hasbro has a habit of fridging any gold-colored character that isn't Bumblebee, I assume), but I think his dynamic with Starscream would be the most interesting.

In most continuites he's in, he's a clone of Starscream, but also happens to act nothing like him most of the time (prolly due to a combination of being raised in a tube and subsisting himself primarily on religious delusions). Throw in an 'unwilling cloning experiment' spin on Starscream's part and I feel like we've got the ingredients for the world's most interesting family(ish) dynamic.

For this to even have a chance of coming to pass in canon though, hasbro would have to let Sunstorm out of the basement they locked him in and they'd have to let Starscream get within 100 feet of an interesting character arc, so chances are slim.

Fanon, however. . . the scant few media I can find focusing on Starscream and Sunstorm are always superb, but just like with Sunstreaker, I feel like there's always so little content with Sunstorm in it simply because people forget he exists, which is a shame. I love my strange radioactive catholic son.

Anyways, done rambling! Hope this answered your question fine enough.

Some underrated dynamic honorable mentions: Starscream & Optimus/Orion (In my heart of hearts I cannot let Starop go), Starscream & Prowl (I've read two [count em, two] very good fics with Prowl&Starscream interactions and they haven't left my brain since), and the Aerialbots & Stunticons (more media should focus on the fact that they're all newbuilds, for humor and/or angst purposes).

[lesmiix]

hii!! could you write hcs/oneshot of hyun-ju finding out reader has a daughter? like how she would react and bond with her?

have a lovely day/night!! ❤️

Hyun-ju finding out you have a daughter!

Hyun-ju x Fem!reader

Summary: You started dating Hyun-ju not so long ago, but she still doesn't know you have a daughter.

a/n: OMG THIS IS SOOOO CUTE Thank you so much for this request!!!

Hyun-ju requests are OPEN

You would have told Hyun-ju about your daughter not too long after you two have started dating, maybe 3-4 weeks later.

Wether you told her accidentally or directly.

"So, uhh... Hyun-ju, there's something I really need to tell you." You said nervously, playing with your hands, you really didn't want to take too long on telling her that little secret, so you decided to tell her right after having dinner in a really nice restaurant.

"Sure, what is it?" She asked, seeing the nervoursness in your face.

"I... uh... I had a boyfriend some years ago, it was not the best relationship but we were too immature to realize what we were doing so... I ended up getting pregnant and..." You chuckled a bit. "When I told him about it, we had a really bad fight and then he just dissapeared. I didn't have the guts to abort her, so... well... I understand if you want us to stop having all of these little dates." You couldn't stare at her in the eyes, fearing to see any disgust or dissapointment look on her face.

After some seconds of silence, you heard a soft giggle.

"That's okay, pretty girl, I don't have any problem with that so, can you tell me more about her?" She said after letting a small peak on your soft lips.

She would be the best mother ever, as a result of her childhood traumas, she wouldn't want your daughter to go through the same tough stuff as her did, so she would always make sure that the little girl knew she could trust her 2 mommies.

She'd help you preparing her food, and if she was still a baby and you were not at home, she'd be the most delicate while preparing the milk, always being really carefull with the temperature. If you decided to breastfeed her, she would silently watch you both with a cute smirk on her face, resting her head on your shoulder, wondering what has she done to deserve such a beautiful family.

Hyun-ju doesn't really like to stay at home all day everyday, so she would make plans for the three of you, like going to an aquarium, amusment parks, small trips on close cities or simply going shopping to the mall.

She truly loved spending time watching movies or playing hide and seek with your daughter, even though sometimes you and your girlfriend needed some privacity and hired a babysitter for the night.

Before you moved in together, if you had to work until very late, you'd call her to ask if she could babysit your daughter for a while until you got home.

"Hey, my love, I'm going to stay a little longer at work tonight, is it okay if I asked you to babysit Sheila? I'll try to finish as soon as I can, I won't take too long, maybe three hours more, I guess... I just have a ton of paperwork to fi-" You couldn't even finish your sentence as she cut you off.

"Baby, it's okay, take the time you need, I'm on my way"

As Hyun-ju doesn't have contact with her parents anymore, you would spend christmas with your family.

She would be this kind of "respectful parenting" mom, like, she would NEVER raise her voice or her hand at her, but NEVER NEVER NEVER, doesn't matter how bad your daughter screwed up. They would have a long chat if she did something bad, but Hyun-ju would speak to her very softly.

Overall, she would be the greatest mother your daughter could have ever had.

a/n: AWW I loved how this turned out!! 😭