lundya366 - Tumblr blog

[lundya366]

Kestrel-dad not sure how to dad but he’s trying his best.

[lundya366]

Janine in Abbott Elementary was so fucking real asking if there was a pay raise for the district fellowship and they said two dollars and she said TWO DOLLARS?! THATS LIKE A MILLION DOLLARS!!! That's literally Quinta Brunson going

SO MUCH RESPECT

[lundya366]

I really like them a lot🔥💧

[lundya366]

The naughty baby pilot is out, and this part the way they call each other by their full government names 🤣I LIVE for diao always standing his ground his sassy stubborn nature with hia yi nat does it SO WELL

[lundya366]

Rewatching Pacific Rim right now, and there's this tiny moment between Mako and Raleigh that I really love

Toward the beginning of the movie, before any of the main action, Mako is showing Raleigh around the shatterdome, introducing him to the newly-renovated Gipsy Danger

Directly after this, Mako shows Raleigh to his quarters and the two of them have this conversation:

They talk a little more, Mako reveals her amazing simulator score, but also confirms that she is not one of the pilot candidates. They then discuss Raleigh's abilities. He asks Mako for her opinion - she thinks he is skilled but too unpredictable and reckless. She ends with this:

Raleigh thanks Mako for her honestly and says she may be right. Then goes on to say this:

And the tiny detail in this scene that drives me crazy is right here

He says when. Not if, when. Mako has just explicitly confirmed that Marshal Pentecost is not considering her for Jaeger pilot. It has already been established at this point that there are only 4 Jaegers left anyway, and that the program is nearing its end, one way or another. In all likelihood, they have very little time left until the end of the whole damn world. Hell, Mako herself just criticized Raleigh, and he could very well wish to get back at her for that, were he a different person. AND YET, despite all of that, he says when. Raleigh has faith in Mako from the very, very beginning, before they even drift together, before he even sees her fight.

And that drives me crazy! I love their relationship so much

[lundya366]

You know, I really love that Pacific Rim broke the trope of "guy has to be convinced that The Woman is his equal before accepting her as his equal." Instead it was "guy is convinced from the start that The Woman is his equal, appoints himself as her personal hype man, and spends the rest of the movie demanding that everybody put some respect on her name or else"

[lundya366]

Francesca Bridgerton really info dumped about her special interest to John Stirling and he said, “I can’t think of anything witty to say in response but I can leave abruptly to give her a grand gesture relating to what she just told me.”

And Francesca really said, “I’m so grateful I literally cannot wait to perform this piece. I’m gonna leave abruptly even though both my suitors are in front of me.”

This is the kind of autistic x autistic relationship I dream about.

[lundya366]

this made me giggle

yk what,, colin is so very real for that

[lundya366]

funny how we went from daphne and simon having that really terrible forced scene to kate and anthony having the “i will stop.” “do not stop.” and now it’s penelope asking and begging for a kiss and colin looking at her for permission before slipping under her dress. it’s almost like they realized we think consent is ✨ sexy ✨

[lundya366]

Two Bad Bitches who pulled each by being Autistic

[lundya366]

x

[lundya366]

kinda hyper-fixated on riding stiles and calling him a big boy at the same time.

because this man boy would sit there underneath you, bottom teeth scraping at his upper lip as he tries to contain his pretty whimpers that kept escaping him. his fingers gripping, digging into the pudgy fluff of your hips and thighs. “y’so tight.”

your nails scratched at his v-line, deep red lines being left by pretty maroon nails—his favorite colors. “jus’so fucking big, sti…” you breathed out, “such a big boy, hmm?”

“mm-mhm.” he whines softly. stiles couldn’t believe how turned on he was by her dirty words, by how much he wanted to please her. who knew such an innocent, doe-eyed girl could spew such filthy words from such a pretty mouth.

you couldn’t help it, with the way he was stretching your walls and pressing those oh so good spots inside you that your own fingers couldn’t reach, how were you supposed to maintain that ingenuousness?

his nails burrowed into your soft skin, leaving little crescent shapes. his eyes were glued to where he disappeared inside you with each bounce and thrust. the wet squelching noises were squalid, and most times he couldn’t hear much else. only when his view was obstructed by your face did his pull his eyes up to meet yours. you flattened yourself against him; your stomach on his, and your breasts resting on his chest. to stiles, the feeling of skin-on-skin contact was worth more than words. it was the only thing that could bring him back to this planet after you overworked him.

you smiled when you saw those gorgeous brown eyes of his finally connecting with yours. “there we go.”

stiles was overwhelmed; you were on top of him, giving him so many sensations, so many things to touch or relish in. he couldn’t choose. you leaned down to darken the fading hickey right at the base of his neck, having given him one in that spot a few days ago. you simply didn’t see a point in letting it fade. he might as well have gotten it tattooed if he wasn’t so afraid of needles.

a deep-purple mark bloomed right over the spotty red one, and you made sure he would still be able to hide it with his flannels for a few days. your thumb wiped the spit from the bruised skin so you could get a full view of your work. stiles knew he’d be admiring the mark in every mirror he passed by, thankful that it was only one tug of a shirt collar away.

your hips rocked against his, not even pulling up anymore. you just loved the way his tip grazed your cervix—like scratching an itch only he could get—and how your swollen clit ground against his lower abdomen.

“you’re so perfect,” his words came from a place deep in his mind, so breathy, so pussydrunk, “i love you.”

knowing stiles didn’t even care for a response in return, not that he’d even be aware of one, you kissed his swollen lips (both his and your doing) to bring him back down to earth, even if only for a few seconds. you thumbed over the plush skin, purely admiring your boy, feeling both proud of and admirable of his prevailing state.

“you’re so good, sti.” the words weren’t really meant as a praise for him. rather, you said it because you genuinely meant it. “my big boy. fillin’ me up so well.”

you swore you saw something behind his eyes malfunction. his cock twitched inside you as he grasped at your hips, unintentionally taking control for just a few seconds so he could move you back and forth, his dick slapping against your spongy walls. your fingers pressed into his shoulders as you clung around him like a vice.

stiles was whimpering desperately and hastily, each one interrupting the next. it was so refreshing that stiles wasn’t afraid to let those sound freely flow from his pretty mouth or be loud for you. he didn’t care if his noises weren’t deep and guttural, although they certainly could be at times. and you favored either or depending on who was taking care of who; his whiny whimpers and soft moans coming out when he was desperate and being especially needy, or his low, throaty groans and praises when he needed to show you how much he loved you.

“i—shit,” he whimpered, high pitched and needy like you adored. “f-fuck,” stiles groaned deeply. it was so broken up, his voice so cracked, so desperate that it sounded like he was pleading. not pleading for a release, but pleading for forgiveness. you quickly felt his reason for pleading spill inside you: warm and thick.

“sorry, sorry, m’sorry.” stiles’ breaths were reduced ragged gasps as he clutched your waist, his arms finding their home around your body. “love you so much.”

you bit your lip at the gushing feeling flooding your already-filled hole. “hmnn, stiles.” you felt him bury his face in your neck, sweaty skin on sweaty skin as he murmured apologies and compliments of how good you feel.

it was moments like these that softened your heart even through such intimacy; moments where he came without warning or any signs, where his forehead nestled perfectly in the curve at the base of your neck, where he was reduced to muffled, strangled whines and sometimes apologies if he could muster them. and all because of a few words—of course with the help of being inside you, but you were sure you could probably just make him come with your words alone.

somewhere along the way of your cunt throbbing in time with his milked cock, and slowly lifting your hips only to drop them back down lazily, you found your own sweet release. stiles was slightly overworked, slightly overstimulated, but this was such a perfect sight in your eyes.

you took a peek down at where the two of you connected, and a thin, white-ish ring was formed at the base of his length. each time you lifted yourself up, strings of milky white liquid kept another physical attachment with him. the build up was definitely worth it in its own way, but the release was divine. as always, though. stiles, even when he may not be completely all there in the moment, always knew how to send you hurdling toward what you swear is the best orgasm each time. he’s definitely fought you before for who had the better orgasm, ending in round twos all the way to round fives. how you two managed to make it that far was a damn mystery as well as a miracle.

but right now, you were only focused on your boy—your pretty boy, and the alluring noises seeping from those pink, kiss-bitten lips. “’love you more, pretty boy.” you halfheartedly chaffed.

his response was the reason for the returning gibes: a small muffled whine of some muddled words. and stiles never failed to live up to any nicknames or unserious expectations you tauntingly gave him.

[lundya366]

What happens to all the beautiful costumes that are made for the show? Are they preserved? Will there be an exhibition we can see them?! Or do actors get to keep them?

[lundya366]

Okay, confession time.... I don't know what it is, maybe it's because my own husband is 14 hours away on day 14 of a 25 day work trip, but I really enjoy watching men review season 3 of Bridgerton.

There is just something about men watching and enjoying and reacting to something that is so traditionally coded as being a women's interest.

Every dress compliment, every "boy you better work for Pen", every scandalized gasp, each "Penelope you walk that man"... it's a balm to my soul. I love hearing men being so into Bridgerton, and rooting for Penelope, especially.

It's adorable and heartwarming and hilarious. I love watching them reject the idea that they aren't supposed to enjoy media like this. Because they can and that they do is proof that some of the toxic ideals of others are dying. I love to see it!

[lundya366]

You know what I think is just so absolutely precious? Colin ran off to his 17 cities in Europe to workshop his new personality to charm the masses and when he comes home and sees his best friend distraught and wanting to find a husband he immediately jumps to “Oh! I just learned how to do this actually! It works so well, the ladies are all swooning everywhere I go. I can teach you!” His husband finding lessons are really just him trying to teach Penelope the new tricks he’s so proud to have learned and then immediately he hates the results of her efforts to be suave and charming just as much as she hates the results of his. He wanted them to be the cool kids together and then quickly realizes he just wants to be his loser self with his loser wife living their very happy loser lives together.

[lundya366]

After watching the first half I’ve come to the very distinctive conclusion that all the help that works in the Featherington Household is very pro-Pen. Her hand-maid (I guess that’s what her role is??) literally left Penelope with Colin MULTIPLE times. They also probably KNOW that Pen is doing shady stuff, running around covered in ink and secrets, but they just sit back and watch. And we’ve gotta mention the MVP so far… the coachman. He saw Colin run to their carriage, STOPPED IT, let him get in with no protest and probably slowed the pace down so they had more time together to do whatever it is they were doing.

The Featherington Household’s servants are all pro-polin. I love them.

[lundya366]

That's a thing you encase in glass and cherish forever right there