#fucking hindenburg

[aparticularbandit]

I will say - for those of you looking at spoilers - there was a moment near the end that cranked my anxiety in the same way balloons, with their constant possibility of popping but you don't know when, and fireworks, where you know the sound will happen but don't know when, does. That one was rough for me.

It did not happen as I was afraid it would. I expected far worse, and that was part of the issue there.

But I literally spent a good chunk of time trying not to look at the screen.

Because I knew it was coming. And didn't know when. And didn't want to see it (because I thought it would be bad).

You will know.

It will not be as bad as your brain thinks it will be.

[tilbageidanmark]

It's 1932 again

🇺🇸

[acapelladitty]

I'm very glad the Goncharov meme has died down because it was total shite lol 🙈🙈🙈

[introverting-rn]

i listen to history podcasts as though i can change what happened if i leave enough swear words in historical figure’s voicemails

“hindenburg. hindenburg, listen to me- HINDENBURG, YOU WHORE, DO NOT MAKE HIM CHANCELLOR HE WILL NOT WORK WITH YOU PEACEFULLY”

“wilson you absolute fucker what have you done with the peace points. wilson you were gonna build a new world - wilson how the fuck do you have airpods in did you seriously get all those reparations just to buy airpods”

“shove that espionage job up your own fucking arse don’t give it to the toothbrush - oh for fucks sake. you’ve ruined a perfectly good workers party is what you’ve done. look at it! it has a dictator!!”

“listen, nicky, i know you want to help your people but please just stay in your fucking room you don’t know shit about running an army. nicky go back inside and take off the fucking general badge”

“MATTHEW FUCKING PERRY I WILL SHOOT YOU IN THE FACE JUST DIE”

“hey nicky it’s me again. look i just think you should be focusing on how much he reeks instead of how he ‘healed’ your son, he smells like a goat that shat itself… you know he actually might be a goat. check his ears”

“mr archduke sir i respect your compassion for your soldiers. you’re an honourable man. tell your chauffeur to go around the block instead of doing a three point turn thanks i love you bye”

[bloodgulchblog]

Basically, I write John with survival strategies that make sense to me based on what he's been through.

Some of my conclusions about that are based on my experience being alive, because that's... what I have to draw on.

[nando161mando]

Hindenburg happy that they got the support of Himmler.

[hazeltongzhi]

Look! One of several blue hindenburgs here to sign away all your rights and freedoms to fascists!

When are you going to actually do something about it (join a fucking party)? When will you say enough is enough? Or are the crumbs you get from imperialist spoil enough to bribe you?

[dingustripas]

I just finished watching Glass Onion for the third time so now you get to hear my rant about it but the details are out of order in the timeline because I’m lazy

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

When Miles lifts the gun off of Duke, we can actually see it pre-Blanc explaining it. The scene where the two hug you can see Miles take the gun and slip it into the back of his jeans.

Following the gun thing, we, the viewers actually SEE the gun itself (pre-Blanc’s explanation) when Miles goes back to the mini bar to put it in the ice bucket. Although it’s kind of hard to see it’s very clearly a gun but our eyes manipulate our minds into thinking it’s a drink because it is indeed a minibar.

They show how Miles places the drink in Dukes hand pre Blanc’s explanation but quickly distract us with the groups dynamic and Birdie.

Phillip is skeptical of Helen when she asks for Blanc, we can assume that he and Blanc have had negative run ins with people from jobs. Also Phillip might be judging Helen’s character, who she is, because he doesn’t want to put Blanc into a situation where he’s in true danger. He’s a detective not Batman.

Birdies mask at the beginning of the movie at the boat is just fucking chains across her face in diamond pattern.

Blanc doesn’t have a gag reflex when the dude in the white suit puts Miles “covid vax” down his throat. (Bc he’s 🏳️‍🌈)

Andi, when she first comes up with the idea for Alpha and starts working with Miles, is wearing dark colors. The dark blue pinstripe suit, her completely black ensamble when we see her at the Glass Onion (the bar). But when she’s challenging Miles she’s wearing both Black and white. At the trial she’s wearing a light almost off white suit. Why is this important? Because what color is Helen wearing when she shuts miles down? White. The color white is, in itself, a color that symbolizes Miles downfall.

Connecting back to the white idea, Whiskey is wearing all white (her bathing suit) when she reveals crucial information about Miles giving her the Taurus necklace for her birthday. (Which leads to his downfall when Blanc puts 2+2 together that he killed Andi)

“Im really bad at dumb things” -Blanc. The reason he didn’t catch on to what was going on with Miles earlier was because Miles is stupid. Miles is so dumb that he fucking befuddled Blanc because Miles is so stupid.

Blanc isn’t uncomfortable about his arousal around Birdie when she put her legs up on him while Miles talks about being ‘Disrupters’. He’s uncomfortable because he’s GAY and has a BOYFRIEND/HUSBAND.

There’s a bunch of owls and small trinkets of birds in Birdies room.

The movie, at the very beginning, with Miles mystery invitation box thing hints at where the envelope is hidden. The fibonacci sequence on the box has the center blocked out in black, where we will later see in the film is red which is where Miles is hiding the envelope. For fucks sake the movie even goes out of its way, with Dukes mother, to point out the sequence. (“The first one’s a fibonacci sequence” -Dukes mom).

During the dinner Whiskey is wearing the same golden chain body jewelry that Birdie was wearing earlier at the pool. So this could mean two things: 1. They have the same chain and 2. Whiskey borrowed the chain from Birdie.

Now connecting to my first point about the chain jewelry above. The reason why Miles likes Whiskey, despite her sleeping with him for the sake of Dukes channel, is because Whiskey reminds him of younger Birdie. Birdie even talks to Peg about how dazzled and amazed Miles was when he first met her and how she wishes it was like that again. Then when they’re smashing the glass sculptures, the first thing Whiskey smashes is a sculpture of a bird. Hence smashing Miles perception of her as another person he can use like he used Birdie.

“You have him turn around so he can have deniability” -Aaron Burr in Hamilton (Basically what Blanc was thinking when he walked out of the room)

When Blanc is trying to light his cigar in the “Smokeless garden” the reason the alarms go off is because because just the smoke and small flames from Blanc’s cigar could cause “another Hindenburg”.

The ending scene with Helen and Blanc after Blanc asks her if she’s ready to go home, Helen’s sitting stance mimics the Mona Lisa. Miles said “It all started with her” in reference to his success being inspired by the Mona Lisa. But it all ended with Helen and her stance at the end mimicking the Mona Lisa is meant to represent that. The beginning and end of Miles Bron.

Blanc refers to alchol as offering Helen “some courage”. Ofc as we all know alcohol is commonly referred to as “Liquid Courage”.

We should’ve known Miles was the killer for this simple reason: The glass he handed to Duke. Duke dying holding Miles’s glass is literally like a signed note. Duke died with Miles name literally written on the crime scene.

[whatsnewalycat]

what do you need?

Pairing: BratTamer!Joel Miller x Brat!F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: no show spoilers, established relationship, non-canon compliant, post-outbreak, smut, swearing, brat “taming”, D/s dynamic, dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, pain kink, impact play, collar wearing, maybe might have taken a snippet of dialogue from how the world works by bo burnh@m for horny reasons, unprotected piv sex, crying, shower, overstimulation, choking, spitting in mouth, fluff

A/N: I feel like this story is going to be presented as evidence when I'm rejected from the pearly gates post-mortem. Happy birthday to Joel Miller, sorry your birthday was a huge bummer that one time. Big big smoochies to @frannyzooey for helping me with several things and just generally being awesome.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

You’re having one of those days. 

You know. 

The kind of day where everything you come into contact with barbs into your flesh and tugs at your nerves. 

Noises out on the street too loud, cupboards too empty, coffee too weak, counters too cluttered, shower too cold, clothing too tight—fuck, even your skin feels too fucking tight. 

Overstimulated. 

Exhausted. 

Restless. 

You’ve given pieces of yourself out hand over foot, and now you’re at a deficit and the world around you is still hungry, even though you’ve been picked to bare bones. Everything is too much and too little all at the same time. 

The toddler that lives in the apartment above yours is throwing a temper tantrum. The kid’s defiant screeching rubs against your brain like fiberglass until all four walls of your living room feel like they’re closing in around you, squeezing you out like a tube of toothpaste, suffocating you. 

And you’re thinking: If I don’t release some of this pressure I might go all fucking Hindenburg and explode. 

The apartment door swings open, and Joel walks in, his broad shoulders all slumped like he’s carrying the goddamn weight of the word. He glances over at you as he slides the chain lock closed, “Hey, darlin’.”

You look up from your place on the couch, where you’re hunched over crossed legs, elbows digging into your thighs. All sharp angles and tense muscles. Without responding, you return your attention to the glass of moonshine dangling from your grip. Swirl it around a little. Take a big swallow and try not to wince as it burns down to your belly. 

Joel stands there for a beat, watching you, waiting for your manners to kick in. When they don’t, he huffs and stomps into the kitchen. Cupboard doors slam and glass clinks as he searches for a clean cup, then pours himself a drink. 

And, christ, he’s so fucking loud. 

Every noise he makes is an exclamation mark. A shard of glass pressing into your eardrum. A sliver wedging further and further under your fingernail. 

He walks over, eyes glued to you, each heavy footfall a stubborn grain of sand that won’t leave that space between your toes no matter how much you wiggle them. 

By the time his weight shifts the couch cushions and sets you off balance, tilting in his direction, you know what you need. 

You need to get under his skin like he’s under yours. To push him until his edges are hardened and sharp to the touch. You need him to pry open the emergency hatch and empty your mind. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Your nostrils flare. You bring the cup to your lips and take another big, burning swig of bootleg liquor, then say, “Nothing.” 

“Nothin’,” he repeats, his voice low and disbelieving, “Now, why don’t I believe that?” 

You sit up and glare at him, meeting his dark eyes, all shadowed by his drooping brow as he tilts his blank stare at you. 

Excitement flickers inside you. You tilt your head right back and drop your voice, mocking him, “Reckon it’s ‘cuz I got a fucken attitude.” 

His jaw tightens, mouth flattening into a straight line as he narrows his eyes at you, “You gonna talk about what’s got your panties all in a twist, or just be a nuisance about it?” 

You bat your eyelashes at him and shrug. 

“I see,” he searches your face, turning his wrist in slow circles, moonshine sloshing around in his cup, “You know, if you need me to do somethin’ for you, or… to you, all you have to do is ask. You don’ need to do this whole thing.”

“What thing?” you blink. Play dumb. 

His eyes roll a little as he brings the glass to his lips and tips it back. Taking its contents all in one swallow, he slams the glass down on the end table with a thunk. Shaking his head, he looks at you, “Are you fuckin’ done?” 

You smirk at him, dragging your eyes up and down his body. He’s studying you with this stern stare, teeth clenched, the muscles in his jaw twitching like little warning signals: PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 

A warm fluttering starts at your center. Setting your glass down, you crawl onto his lap. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t do anything but watch your face as you drag your fingernail along the tightened line of his jaw. 

Threading your brows together, you coo, “You’re just so cute when you’re angry.” 

“That’s enough,” he grabs your hand and squeezes it hard enough to make you gasp with delight, then says, “Open your mouth.” 

“Make me.” 

It happens so fast. 

One hand on your forehead, the other gripping your jaw, yanking your mouth open. 

“Stick your fuckin’ tongue out.” 

You do. 

You hear it first. The squelch of him gathering moisture. He spits onto your tongue, his saliva moonshine flavored and melting into yours. He does it again, then groans as he rubs it into your tastebuds, the rough pad of his thumb scraping against the tender muscle. 

“So, what, you had a shitty day, now you’re actin’ out? Tryin’ to get me all worked up so I punish you?” 

The words are all hoarse and heated against your cheek. His cock twitches beneath you and you grind into him, tongue still stretched out. 

He spits on it again. 

“Is this what you wanted, you little shit? Hmm?” he tugs on your chin, “Do you like it when I spit in your fuckin’ mouth?” 

“I like it,” you tell him, nodding, placing your palm on his chest. 

His throat rumbles like he’s pleased. He loosens his grip, then brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, glancing down at your mouth, “Do you want more?” 

“Yes—yes, please.”

“Much better,” he purrs, “Open.” 

You open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue. Another hot wad of spit plops down on it, moonshine flavored, Joel flavored, and you moan.

He cups your cheek and murmurs, “See? You can be a good girl. Can’t you?” 

Sparks sizzle up your back bone. You nod and bat your eyelashes at him, closing your mouth and swallowing his spit, sliding your hand through the soft patches of gray in his beard. 

His throat rumbles. Dark gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, ”Now, tell me, darlin’, what do you need?” 

The question trickles down the middle of you and twists into a stubborn knot. Your heart flutters when your lips part, but courage dies in your chest. 

You shake your head and mutter, mostly to yourself, “It’s stupid.”

His brow furrows just slightly. 

Heat blooms in your chest and on your face. Nervous energy makes your throat bob and your tongue go numb, and you shake your head, “Sorry.” 

He fully frowns now, searching your face, “Sorry? What for?”

You shake your head again, dropping your gaze, and clamp your mouth shut. 

Joel releases a big sigh, curling your body into his, and kisses your forehead. He murmurs against your skin, “Do you trust me?” 

“With my life.” 

He lets you sit in the wake of your own answer. The weight of his expectant silence wriggles under your skin and makes you squirm. You cast your gaze downward and shrug, “I don’t know.” 

He’s quiet.

When you glance back up at him, his expression has softened into one that makes your heart ache. It’s almost doleful, the way he looks at you. 

“I don’t know how to explain it, I feel,” you intertwine your fingers with his, “Empty here,” you pull the clasped hands to your chest, “But full… in-in my head. Everything feels like too much—I don’t know, Joel.”

The tears that prick your eyes take you by surprise. Usually you keep these pesky blue feelings to yourself, so as not to burden him. You should be used to this world by now. Your skin should be thicker. 

You feel weak. 

Pathetic. 

Shame rips through you. More tears erupt from deep within your chest and stream down your cheeks, burning the whole way. A rush of adrenaline pumps through your body. It tinges your blood cold and makes you panic. 

You let go of his hand and bring your knees to your chest, burying your face between them, blubbering, “I’m sorry.” 

“Hey, don’t,” he sighs, not quite sure what to do with this, and slides his warm palm up and down the curve of your back, “It’s—it’s ok.” 

All you can do is shake your head. It’s not ok. He doesn’t want someone like this. A crying, sputtering mess. Someone who gets upset because, what, noises seem too loud? 

“Look at me, babygirl.”

You can’t help the whimper that bubbles up your throat. He only uses the term of endearment during rare, tender moments. When he needs you to know, really know, that above the games and the rules and the agreements behind the locked door of this apartment… he cares for you.

You sniffle and wipe your tears on the stiff denim of your work pants, then peak up at him. 

He searches your face, and says, “Let me take care of you.” 

Your eyebrows thread together and your lips part. He just keeps staring at you like that, so earnest, his eyes fertile earth you could take root in. 

“Ok,” you whisper. 

“Go take a shower. You can be a good girl and do that for me, can’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

You stay there for a moment, eyes locked on his, and ask, “Can I have a kiss?” 

He hums, dropping his gaze to your lips, “How do we ask?” 

Heat coils around you. He studies your movements as you unfold yourself and sit up straight, then climb on top of him, knees framing his hips, “Can I have a kiss… please?” 

His hands land on your waist, “Course you can.” 

You slide your palms up his chest, his neck, to cradle his jaw, then lean in to capture his lips in yours. The kiss is molasses and moonshine. Syrupy and rich. Intoxicating. It warms your insides and leaves you wanting more. 

When he pulls back, he smooths his touch around your backside and gives your ass a firm smack, “Go on now.” 

You try on his Texas accent and tease, “Go on, git,” and start giggling when he blinks at you, then add, “Ok ok I’m going!” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute, y’know that?” he calls after you as you scamper into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. 

You pull back the shower curtain, flip on the hot water, and strip off your clothes. The weak stream splatters hot against your skin when you step inside. For a minute, you just stand there with your eyes closed, relishing the warmth. 

The bathroom door opens, then closes. 

You wash your hair as Joel strips off his clothing into a pile on top of yours. His shadow on the shower curtain grows, then disappears as he pulls it back and steps inside. Your eyes close as you tip your head back into the water stream and massage the conditioner from your hair. 

He plants his palm at the small of your back and brings himself closer. A soapy washcloth meets your bellybutton and moves in circular motions, working up a lather. When he hits a weak spot, and a tickle shoots up your body, you giggle and grab his wrist. 

“You don’t like it?” 

Feeling through your wet hair for any remaining gobs of conditioner, you open your eyes to meet his, grinning, “I do, I’m just ticklish.”

His lips curve into a smirk and he shakes his head as he returns his attention to the task at hand, scrubbing the day’s grime off your body. The hot water works with his meticulous attention to dull the serrated edges under your skin. 

“Turn.” 

You do, taking a backwards step towards him. Your nerves tingle with want, the snarled tips of them all stretching in his direction, untangling to beckon him closer. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and starts on your back. Your shoulders relax under his praise. Under the firm pressure of the washcloth scouring your skin. He draws circles down your spine, around your hip, between your legs, leaving a trail of suds for you to rinse off. 

When he’s finished sudsing and you’re finished rinsing, he says, “Go wait for me in the bedroom,” so you swap places with him and squeeze the excess water from your body and hair. You step out onto the bath mat and wrap a towel around yourself, then tiptoe into the bedroom. 

Across the patchwork quilt, Joel laid out your collar. You dry yourself off and fasten the leather strap around your neck, then wait for him in the middle of the bed with your legs crossed. 

When Joel enters the room, it seems to shrink around him. Every inch of him is gleaming and dewy, his hairline all steely gray and combed back into damp, dark waves. He appraises you while tucking a ratty towel around his waist. You feel your shoulders pull back. Your spine uncurls, pointing straight at the ceiling. 

His eyes flick around the room as he walks to the side of the bed and hooks a finger in the little loop of your collar, tugging you to your knees. You crawl to him, following his firm guidance until you’re eye-to-eye and just an inch or so apart. 

Under the squeaky-clean soap scent lies something so unmistakably Joel. Woodsy and masculine, it cattle-prods your heart. 

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Heat sparks from deep within you and blooms in your guts, your cheeks. You feel yourself arching towards him, leaning closer, trying to taste his breath. 

Some smart-aleck answer parts your lips, but he preemptively interrupts you. 

“Rhetorical question.” 

An amused smile twitches the corners of his mouth. 

His mouth. 

You stare at it, fingertips buzzing with energy, yearning to feel the soft curve of his plush lips.  

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flick to his, smoldering but critical. A wide, calloused palm lands on your waist and slides around to your backside, cupping the heft of your asscheek. You swallow hard. This thick, pulsing ache starts between your legs and makes you whimper. An attestation to your pliancy. 

His throat rumbles and he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth. Joel likes the noise, because he knows what it means. It means you’re putty in his hands. Giving yourself over to him, letting him take control. He digs his fingers into the tender flesh of your ass and smirks when you gasp.

“That’s what you need, hmm?”

You nod, eyebrows drawing together, batting your lashes at him. 

He doesn’t let up. Quite the opposite, actually, he grips you harder, rumbling out, “Jus’ need someone to take care of you? Fuck the angry out of you?”

Again, you nod. 

He tugs on your collar, “Use your words.”

The grasp is bruising and constant and fucking delicious. Dropping your gaze, you  breathe, “Yes si—”

“Look at me.” 

Your cunt clenches around nothing as you comply, meeting his lust-blown eyes. 

“Yes sir.” 

“That’s better.”

Joel releases your ass cheek and tugs at your collar. 

When his lips meet yours with a firm, ravenous kiss, urgency overcomes you. You clamber closer, hooking your hands behind his neck, dragging your nails through his damp curls. Each time the kiss renews, it gains traction, intensity, evident in his nips and groans, and his harsh, wandering touch. Grabbing your ass, your tits, your thighs. Pinching your nipples so hard you gasp and nod. 

He buries his fist in your hair and pulls back, panting, “Turn around ‘n’ bend over.” 

You do, reluctantly parting from his lips to spin 180° and raise your ass in the air, pressing your ear to the mattress. 

“Close your eyes,” he knocks your knees further apart, and when you comply, letting your eyelids flutter closed, he murmurs, “That’s it. Now you’re gonna sit there and take what I give you, hmm?” 

The rough pads of his fingers trail electric up your seam, ghosting along the hungry, aching nerves. You gasp and nod, “Yes sir.” 

His throat rumbles, and his fingertips start to work your throbbing clit in hard-pressed circles. He’s heavy-handed in the way he touches you. It’s not delicate, or teasing, or gentle—it’s fucking perfect. Heat bubbles up your middle and spreads across your skin, pulling a whimper from your throat. 

Joel’s free hand slides up your spine, his palm pressing firm and slow across every vertebrae, coaxing you to stretch your backbone, arching your hips towards him. 

“There we go, that’s my good girl—”

You moan at the rush of pleasure his praise gives you. Your heart starts to thud, heavy and thick in your chest, and his hand between your legs starts to work you faster, jolting your center. 

“Fuck, Joel—”

Another gravelly sound surfaces from his chest. He slaps your ass, hard and firm, and you gasp at the sharp sting. He does it again. The smack rings in your ears and the divine pain it’s coupled with resonates deep in your bones. He does it again and again and again, all the while rubbing your clit in vigorous, tight circles, growling out, “All fuckin’ wound up, acting out, this is what you needed, hmm?”

“Yes yes yes yes—”

The feeling at your center grows and spreads, building building building—then it swallows you whole. Your body convulses with pleasure so acute and overwhelming, you try to pull away from him, to close his hand between your thighs, but he grabs your hip and kneels on your calf, keeping you spread open. 

“Don’t you run away from this,” he barks as you let out a choked sob, “You take this fucking like a good girl, you hear me?”

“It’s—fuck, it’s it’s—”

You want to tell him it’s too much, but the tide of pleasure draws you back with violent force and washes over you again. The noise that comes out of you is guttural, barely human, this half-howl, half-cry. It’s excruciating and overwhelming and so fucking good. 

Joel chuckles, “That’s it, let it go, darlin’.”

You do. A sensation overtakes you, that’s warm and secure. The weight strapped to your shoulders, that skin-too-tight, noises-too-loud sort of feeling melts away and you nod, “Yes, sir.”

He withdraws his hand from between your legs and grabs your waist, bringing your bodies closer. The head of his cock nudges against your entrance and he plunges forward. 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you gasp as his thick, throbbing length slides into your well-lubricated cunt. 

He splits you open cell-by-cell, his own needy moan mingling with yours, and tells you, “God, your pussy—fuck, that’s good—”

There’s no warm-up period. No sweet, slow strokes, or whispered words of comfort, or gentle anything. Immediately, he’s fucking you hard and fast. You push back against his harsh thrusts, each impact devastating and intoxicating and heady with a feral energy that fills your body with static. 

Joel closes a fist in your hair and yanks, tilting your head to the ceiling, and you let out a long, sick moan that makes him groan with delight. His arm slips around you and pulls your back to his chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder, mouth gaping open to babble out, “So fucking good, fuck fuck fuck—I fucking love it, Joel, holy fuck—”

His big hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, restricting your airflow, and you let out wheezing, gasping breathes as he grunts in your ear, “Yeah you fucking do. Pussy jus’ needs a good pounding, that it? My little slut just needs to get fucked, hmm?”

You whimper and nod, as much as his grip will allow. His fingers crush your pulse, leaving you light-headed. The scraps of breath you manage to take in carry the sharp, tangy scent of sex. You revel in the feeling of him filling you over and over, each roll of his hips collects electric at your core, gaining traction and energy. 

When you look up at him and meet the corner of his dark, lust-blown eyes, he releases his grip on your throat and pulls you into a heated kiss. Both of you start to take in short, frantic breaths, passing soft moans back and forth. That gooey static in your middle grows and grows. Your limbs start to quiver and you cry, “Oh my fucking god, Joel—you’re gonna make me come—”

“That’s it, babygirl, let it go.”

You do. 

You let it consume you, a bright, blissful warmth that pulses through every inch of your body. Joel moans as your cunt clenches down around him, then pulls out in time to shoot his load onto the bedspread. 

For a moment, the only things in existence are the two of you. His ragged breath in your ear, your heaving chests and empty minds. 

He departs your body and stretches out on the bed with a groan. You only feel his absence for a second before he hooks his finger into your collar’s loop to pull you closer, “C’mere.”

An obedient creature, for the time being at least, you follow the suggestion and curl up at his side. You smooth your palm up his heated chest, all dewy with sweat, and admire his broad frame. His distinguished features. While surveying the map of scars and wrinkles and grays on his rugged exterior, your gaze meets his, and you find a remarkable softness there. 

He seems to study you with the same sort of reverence as you do him. 

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” 

It makes you smile, which, in turn, makes him smile. A gorgeous and rare spectacle. The expression carves out a dimple in his cheek and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

You scoot closer and kiss him, your lips soft, gentle. He kisses you back in a similar manner, slow and sweet, twisting your brain in a big, beautiful kaleidoscope of emotions. 

The intimidation you felt when you met him, still hot-to-the-touch after all these years, tumbling around with tiny glimmering glass bits of desire and apprehension and pride and excitement and awe and dread and security. 

And love. 

Of course love, even though neither of you dare look at it directly. Only suckers allow such a thing to exist in this world. But it’s there, nonetheless. Weaving its way through each fragmented shard, pulling it all together. 

[zinnie-zoloft]

Someone mentioned something about the boys not really knowing about 9/11 and I can’t stop thinking about what other massive events they wouldn’t know about

Charles probably had to be the one to inform Edwin that there was a second world war. Like he might have asked at some point “btw how did the Great War turn out?” since he died right in the middle of it and poor Charles had to break the news to him

The moon landing though! Edwin would be so excited about that, planes had only been a thing for 13 years when he died and now there are people in space? That’s incredible!

Speaking of aviation though he’d probably wonder at some point why zeppelins stopped being used entirely and someone would have to tell him about the Hindenburg disaster

They likely know almost nothing about current pop culture since they still haven’t figured out the internet, can ghosts even use iphones since they can’t touch things the way the living can?

On the flip side of this they both probably mention stuff that was commonly known about in their eras and confuse the fuck out of Crystal, this goes double for things that are specific to the UK

Though sometimes she might actually know what he’s talking about but for all the wrong reasons, like Charles will mention a celebrity and she’ll be like “isn’t that the guy who murdered someone?” and he can’t quite tell if she’s fucking with him or not (because she absolutely lies about pop culture to them because it’s funny)

[happypotato48]

Wandee Goodday EP 7 Unhinged Tangant Thoughts

Welp, i'm back to simping for Ai Phi Ter. god damn it, my hated for him only last a week i thought it would last longer than that. whatever i have no standards for men and and that hindenburg of a person is too much of a hot disaster for me to look away from.

this is a nice message and all but shouldn't there more set up for this?

well i appreciated that they tried to destigmatize mental health nonetheless. cause this topic is very much overlooked in thailand. like most older generations will outright tells young people to go to temples or get a grip instead of seeking professional helps.

Yak it's only been a few months give Dee more time my dude.

Dude i know you're mad and all but why you did that. go apologize to the poor custodian staff right now!

Eyebrows is right Dee stop making a mess and go smooch that hunk of a man!

Oh hi luke. i've never watch any of the shows he's in, but but but i had watched a behind the screen of a underwear photoshoot he modeled for and it was very very yummy :P

Make out make out make out. WHAT! don't look at me like that i said already i have no standards.

We are what we remember and liking Ai Phi Ter will always be a part of Dee, you just need learn to live with that baby boy.

How about you two dress up as a well adjusted people whose talks to each other for one, hmmm!

i'm still not going to the gym i don't care how many eye candies there is there i still hate exercises that are not walking/running. but also thanks for this shot show.

*Me when i saw this*

What with that face lol. i laughed so hard 🤣

Did you just came here in that outfit? this bitch has no shame.

If this were me he would already got me at free food. what can i say i'm easy like that.

Heaheahea that smile got me. he so slimy and evil. anyway what happened with what her face Ai Phi Ter!

*second murloc noise of the day*

And i both love and hate you for it you big doo doo of a man.

Ok this line literal translation is "why do you like to use violence like that" which i think is a better choice than what got subbed.

Thanks you gay gods and Yak for both giving me this look and for decking Ai Phi Ter in his stupid face.

You dumb bitches you dum-dums ahhhhhh.

Ok sorry, but crying over cringy bunny sextume will never stop be funny for me lol

saving budget bying never leave the room, smart moved but also give me japan god damn it!

God bless this mess of a man.

Oh comeon! don't drag this girl into this mess show just leave her alone with that other cute boy.

*third murloc noise of the day*

Ok you betted on this match for money didn't you.

Fucking finally!

It's not dull alright baby.

That was a hot mess oh my god, Yak feels off in this ep and yes i do think they're trying to go with mental health problems as an explanation but that was too underbaked for me idk. and for Dee i do get it that he still has lingering feeling for dr. devil but why did they made him goes to Ter's room in that outfit and not trying way harder to get out. i feel like they just went with the early draft of that scene with out changing with how much they've changed the characters. anyways i'm manifesting cherry magic th ep 8 energy for this ep and hope it was just a blip in judgement by the director.

[dailyfoodlovers]

man you gotta help me man this is so fucked man we were seshing with Glover and we all forgot he was full of helium man I tried to give him a ciggy burn as a joke and he went up like the Hindenburg man he was screaming so much and none of us know how to bury a metal skeleton

[violetganache42]

Highlights from a swashbuckling, futuristic watch party on this fine 6th anniversary of "The Shadow War!":

"No Sail"

The sail deactivating every ten seconds after despositing a nickel

"Warning: Never. Drink. Sea water! Tempting as it is, it'll just make you thirstier."

Mine!

Goofy pulling up a fake shark fin while Donald gets a real shark

Return of the Perfect Cast!

"Duck to the Future"

Godfrey and I DREADING this episode

Not Doofus Drake! ><

WriteBackAtYa: "Who doesn’t want lemonade made by 87 Doofus Drake’s feet?"

(No! Bad Will!)

Magica appearance?!

This episode predicting Scrooge being Doctor Who

$500 BUS FAIR?! DAMN INFLATION!

HDL's "adult" designs (It's not fucking hard to make them look like actual adult ducks!)

Old Man Gyro

Me: "Where's Time Baby when you need him?" Godfrey: "Again, same brain"

Take a shot every time WriteBackAtYa says "It gets worse"

Us HATING Future Webby's design (Her outfit is fine, but everything else? Bless me bagpipes, it's bad!)

Pay no attention to the witch behind the curtain!

Future Doofus being an absolute dick (Webby deserves someone better, and that someone is Lena!)

puffywuffy8904 and Alex: *pointing out how Drake is dead* WriteBackAtYa: "The orange traffic cone above his grave should be stolen by now"

Johnny Quest ass shot

Future Louie riding shotgun

Even in the original series, Dewey crashes a plane

Suddenly, THE HINDENBURG DISASTER

Scrooge disrupting the timeline with Webby saying she's not into Doofus (Thank you for setting the course for a good future, Scrooge. This episode was… UGH… Never again! ><)

"Sky Pirates…in the Sky!"

Dewey wanting to tell his family how he got his hat

"Hey feet off the merchandise!"

Us singing the Sky Pirate song!

Scrooge's golden reaction after the song finished and the treasure was stolen

puffywuffy8904: "even though it was SHIT"

Any: "Busted" Me:

Webby casually gaslighting Louie into believing the Sapphire of Souls is real

Louie being the Gollum of the family

Don Karnage being a bad actor

puffywuffy8904: "you know who ELSE is a botanist" Me: "MY MOM"

Cater-chiller

Godfrey and Kaito stealing my thunder

Discord dunking on Dewey by freezing the stream during his Sky Pirate reprise

Even LAUNCHPAD was mad at Dewey for what he did! LAUNCHPAD OF ALL PEOPLE! That's how you know you and your ego trip fucked up!

Magica having a better disguise than Don Karnage

Sky pirates: "A Duel!" Godfrey: "(cue duel of the fates)"

The way Scrooge boards the Sunchaser with his hat full of treasure. XD

Webby revealing to Louie she tricked him: GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS

Marshmello x DuckTales - Fly (Music Video)

Scrooge and the kids embodying the element of sassy

Puffy panicking about the family being out in space

"MARSHMELLO IS A DUCKTALES FAN"

This song being in a Fortnite event apparently

Treasure Planet

Everyone realizing Missy hadn't joined yet (The lack of "smash" was noticable.)

Me sharing Treasure Planet Lorcana cards

The offended "Ewww"

melcat33: "family clearly having a huge crisis" "MY JUICE" Tokuvivor: "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchen drinking… juice."

puffywuffy8904: "HEY COOL A DEAD GUY"

Alex pointing out how the dying guys always have to give a vague warning

Jim: "Treasure Planet." Me: "Roll credits."

Delbert immediately being on board to tag along with Jim

The meta in "character-building months"

The TRANSITION from the Hawkins' residence to the Spaceport!

Captain Amelia appearance!

CYBORG…

John Silver 🤝 Hugh Neutron Calling Jim and Jimmy "Jimbo"

MORPH APPEARANCE

Learning the original Treasure Planet novel popularized a lot of pirate tropes

Everyone praising how it is a fun yet underrated movie

puffywuffy8904: "wait are they gonna kiss eww" Me: "Outside. Now!"

Subtitles dying as John Silver was berating the crew

"I'm Still Here" screaming 2000s-core

Subtitles near the end of the montage:

Star Wars doing the "Your father is the true villain" shtick first

TransedMyGender: "You know what's worse than a supernova?" Alex: "see your father leave"

Scroop killing Arrow!

puffywuffy8904: "there ain't gonna be a treasure planet 2 for us to worry about" melcat33: "don't you dare jinx us"

"oh shit, guess i have a kid now"

Morph messing with Jim

Missy FINALLY joining the watch party!

Morph custody fight

Everyone saying who they consider the best duck waifu (Morph can be a duck if he wants to. lol)

Suddenly, ROBOT

Learning that Jim was voiced by Joseph Gordin Levitt (NGL, he sounded a lot like Ben Schwartz at various instances)

The violins playing

"We're not a couple" Delbert and Amelia LITERALLY having a shipping moment immediately after

puffywuffy8904: "this guy stinks" Me and WriteBackAtYa's first thoughts:

THE MEME

"Woof."

Delayed subtitles

🎵Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!🎵

The WONDERFUL meshing of 2D animation and CGI

Us @ Scroop's death:

Me: "BITE OF 87" WriteBackAtYa: "87 like ducktales?"

BATHROOM BREAK SPEEDRUN

puffywuffy8904: "hey you know what ELSE has robots and supernovas" Alex: "not Jimbo's dad"

Suddenly, HUEBERRYSHORTCAKE APPEARANCE!

This movie being TaleSpin in Space

Family is the greatest treasure of all!

WriteBackAtYa: "His mom is cool" Me: "She did her very best." WriteBackAtYa: "Like no one ever was"

SHIPPING UP TO BOSTON

Delbert and Amelia already having quatriplets quadruplets

DuckLooneyHistoria bringing up the 1988 Russian Treasure Island movie

[jewish-sideblog]

Tired of pretending airships shouldn’t make a comeback. “Oh but the Hindenburg” just use helium instead of hydrogen gas. “But they’re slow and expensive and not as efficient as planes” dude do you hear yourself. We live in a world dominated by cars. Trains are right there but we still use cars.

Hear me out, seriously. Right now you can book a flight with a shitty oligopoly airline company. From New York to LA, it takes six hours. You pay a ridiculous amount for ticket costs, and then a ridiculous amount more in fees. You get zero leg room. You get squeezed between two strangers. You only get up to use the bathroom or stretch your legs for a few minutes. If you leave your entertainment in your overhead luggage, you’re fucked, and you have to pay extra for headphones and wifi and shitty movies on a tiny little screen. All of that on, you know, a Boeing plane. The former pinnacle of safety.

Or you can book a ticket on an airship. It takes twice as long— 12 hours from New York to LA— but your day is being eaten up by travel time either way. You get a nice real table to set your stuff down at, and you can wander around the ship and look over the landscape as you cross the USA. You don’t have to worry about greenhouse gas emissions or your carbon footprint. You get ridiculously good photos for your instagram. Hell, you might even get to board the airship from the top of the god damn Empire State Building.

Maybe I’m just letting the autism win today, but all that seems like a pretty good trade off for a slower travel time. I’m not saying it should be the primary mode of travel for everyone everywhere. But I am saying it should be an option for travel, instead of just being a neat visual gag for parallel dimensions and alternate histories.

[jiangwanyinsimp]

An Incomplete (and Very Long) list of thing Edwin Payne missed while he was stuck in Hell

This list emerged because I was talking about how he would have missed the end of World War One and then the list kept going. It is not complete or in order, and is provided simply for posterity

ww2

spanish flu

the hindenburg disaster

the rise of public radio

Irish independence

fast food as a concept

the hinterkaifeck murders

the extinction of the california grizzly

the discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb

television

jet aircraft

supersonic aircraft

the moon landing

THE OFFICIAL FOUNDING OF THE SOVIET UNION

the jazz age

surrealism

the first woman to swim the english channel

the BBC

Amelia Earhart

Tintin

the discovery of Pluto

the crash of airship R101

the founding of porsche

the geneva convention

UK abandonment of the gold standard

the discovery of 22 elements on the periodic table

technicolor

Australia starting and losing the Emu war

the creation of the Royal Christmas message

the Great Depression

FM radio

the first canned beer

pre-sliced bread

the recognition of stress as a biological condition

the extinction of the thylacine

the destruction of the Crystal Palace

the first full feature length animated film (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs)

the nylon bristle toothbrush

Batman

the last use of the guillotine for an official state execution

Gone With the Wind (the book AND the film)

the founding of Greggs

Looney Tunes

the discovery of the Lascaux cave paintings

Agatha Christie's works

Cheerios

the discovery of nuclear fission and all subsequent nuclear discoveries

the airplane ejection seat

The Little Prince

LSD

the lifting of the prohibition of married British women working as teachers

the disappearance of flight 19

the first formula one grand prix

Mensa

the invention of the magic 8 ball

the Doomsday Clock

the AK-47

the first commercial microwave

the Kinsey reports

the first time Idaho Fish and Game parachuted beavers into the wild

humanity's entry to space

the beginning of the broadcast of the Archers (the longest running present day drama by number of episodes)

the Korean War

the polio vaccine

the first nuclear powered submarine

The Lord of the Rings

Moomins

transistor radio

the TV dinner/ready meal

ICBMs

the entire life of Elvis Presley

Kermit the Frog

My Fair Lady (the film and musical adaptations)

Grace Kelly's wedding

the Entire Life Of Marilyn Monroe

the Beat Generation

Eurovision

Helvetica typeface

the peace symbol

the Cod Wars

computer games

Dyatlov Pass incident

Barbie

Missile Mail

the Declaration of the Rights of the Child

the MOSFET

particle accelerators

the Beatles

the recovery of the Vasa

the first Six Flags

Breakfast at Tiffany's

Catch-22

the Vietnam War

Silent Spring

The Rolling Stones

the night of the long knives

Vatican II

James Bond

the Cuban Missile Crisis

Thích Quảng Đức's self-immolation

the "I Have A Dream" speech

JFK Assassination

the smiley face

Mary Poppins (1964)

IntelSat

the last British execution

high speed rail

the first time "fuck" was said on british tv

the Moors Murders

the Grateful Dead

the British parliament decriminalizing homosexuality

most of the literary career of Pablo Neruda

Fleetwood Mac

the Parker Morris Standards

the end of steam passenger travel in the UK

Led Zeppelin

Earth Day

the first temporary artificial heart

the first person to row an ocean solo

Woodstock

the Zodiac Killer

the nationalization of Rolls-Royce

decimalisation of UK currency

the first e-book

the first microprocessor

DB Cooper

the first email

the Biological Weapons Convention

Watergate

the start of the Troubles

The Joy of Sex

all attempts to climb Mount Everest and the eventual first ascent

ABBA

the invention of the Rubik's Cube

the Moorgate tube crash

the first Cricket World Cup

the global eradication of Smallpox

Star Wars

the Tenerife airport disaster

the discovery of the rings of Uranus

Red Rum winning three Grand Nationals

the Concorde

the start of the broadcast of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Jonestown

Synthetic insulin

the Thorpe affair

the release of God Save the Queen by the Sex Pistols

Monty Python

the election of Margaret Thatcher

Star Trek

Iron Maiden

the incident where the dingo ate a baby in Australia

the end of iron and steel production in the UK's Black Country

the first London Marathon

Charles and Diana's wedding

the church of England votes to elect women to holy orders

the 1981 UK tornado outbreak

the first child born by IVF

the Falklands War

the raising of the Mary Rose

the invention of ciabatta bread

the discovery of the Titanic

the King's Cross Fire

Top Gun

Lockerbie bombing

[nando161mando]

Is Hindenburg about to appoint Hitler as chancellor for a second time?