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#me talking rubbish
pirates-swoop · 1 year
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I just discovered that there’s a gaelic dub of Moominvalley and it doesn’t seem to be available anywhere so now I’m very sad
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wreckedandpolemic · 3 months
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she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy
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part iii - if we're gonna do anything...
(mdni) hahahahaha... heyyy... been a while huh?
warnings: 18+, drug use, unprotected sex, cheating
Being home is suffocating you. You love your hometown, really, you do, but you’ve gotten so used to reaching out and grasping a starless London night that the stickers on your ceiling feel mocking. Like you’ve stepped back into the body of the girl whose room this used to be, and her skin is two sizes too small. Every time your mother reprimands you for being out late, or swearing, or smoking, you remind yourself that you’re five minutes closer to being back in London, hundreds of miles away and outside your family’s sphere of control. 
Being with Matty is different, though. He tugs you out of that too-tight skin, leaves you loose-limbed and free. You tell him as much, laying back against his wrinkled, black sheets, a joint burning down between his fingers and smoke hanging in the air. His answering smile is gorgeous, big and bright and a little dopey from the weed. A slow song you can’t pin down crackles from his vintage record player. “Shotgun?” he offers, and you grin, straddling him as he fills his lungs with smoke. Your lips hover over his, your hair falling in a curtain around your faces, shrouding you in fitting secret. He blows the smoke into your waiting mouth and you inhale greedily, certain a faint taste of him lingers in your lungs. You lift your head to exhale, blowing rings just to show off.
He stubs the joint out on his bedframe and flings the roach into the corner of his room, planting both his hands firmly on your hips. You’re crossing that line again; your feet have swept across it so many times since you came home that it’s faded from an all-encompassing warning bell to a faint, familiar tick. You press a kiss to his lips, savouring his responding giggle, your high wrapping the pair of you in a blanket that muffles the outside world. His arms snake around your back, tracing soothing circles over your skin. You relax into his chest, the warmth of his skin soaking into yours. Time drips over you like honey and you don’t know how long you lay like that, relaxed in his embrace.
“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs absently, petting your hair.
You kiss his chest softly, praise spinning in your slow-moving mind like a coin set on its edge. “Flatterer,” you reply, his gaze kindling a spark in your chest. The album ends, the last notes hanging in the air for a moment before fading away. The silence is tender, pleasant. Matty shifts, freeing his arm from under you and you whine, clinging feebly onto him as he rolls off the bed.
You watch him pick his way across his messy room to where his guitar leans against his bookshelf, smiling softly when he picks it up. He sits cross-legged, back against the wall, cradling the guitar lovingly in his lap. He strums idly, chords humming sweetly in the warm air and washing comfortably over you. “Mind if I play you something, love?”
“Please,” you reply, sitting up so you can see him properly. He teases a few more notes from the strings, then sings along in a low, quiet voice. You’re a little too stoned to process the individual words, but you know intrinsically that he’s singing to you, for you, about you. A solid lump of emotion rises in your throat, your cotton-mouth too dry to swallow it back down.
The song ends after some indeterminate amount of time, its linear passage having escaped you long ago. “D’you like it?” he asks, and you nod. It’s just about the loveliest thing you’ve ever heard; the romance of this tortured artist so dichotomous from what you’re used to. “Good,” he says shortly. “‘Cause otherwise that would’ve been well embarrassing.” Turning to start another record, he takes a deep breath and exhales shakily, unfamiliarly and uncharacteristically nervous. “This isn’t, um… We’re having fun, right?”
You tilt your head at him, hazy brain preventing you from reading his tone. “Yeah. ‘Course we are.” You turn a sleazy, charming grin on him, one you realise you learned from him. “Why?”
He smiles at you, a sweet, lovely thing, a far cry from the filthy, teasing smirks you’re used to. “I just…” He shakes his head as you fascinate yourself twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Never mind. You’re so stoned.” He huffs a fond laugh and props the guitar back up against the bookshelf.
A dazed laugh bubbles up out of your throat. “Yep,” You pop the ‘p’ loudly, smacking your lips so the noise repeats over and over. “Fuck, your shit is so strong. I feel like my bones are glue. Does that make sense?”
He crawls back up the bed next to you, slipping a hand under your shirt to stroke fond circles into your skin. “No,” he laughs. “But you’re cute,” he adds.
“So are you,” you say, poking the tip of his nose and dissolving into a fit of giggles at the way his face scrunches in response. He kisses you lazily, tongue sweeping your mouth in slow, languid strokes; he kisses you just to kiss you, running his fingers through your hair and smiling against your mouth.
Time passes, your head clears, the platter spins and the sun sinks lower in the sky. It’s dusk by the time you peel yourself out of Matty’s bed and shrug your jacket back on. You’re regretful, gathering your things slowly, casting doleful looks at the warmth of his bed as you inch toward the door. “Just stay, love,” Matty tells you, grinning at the relief on your face.
You don’t bother double-checking, just dropping your bag and jacket and falling back into bed with him. “Thank you, darling,” you grin, pressing your lips against his just to feel them warm on your skin. “You and me, alone together in bed all night… whatever will we get up to?” you tease, hands wandering over his chest playfully.
“I have a few ideas,” he smirks, hand roaming down to your ass and squeezing. You tug his shirt off his body, kissing your way down his bare chest. His hand catches yours as you go to unbutton his jeans and you look up at him curiously before pressing a palm against his clothed dick. “C’mon, love. We’ve got all night. Right now, I wanna make you feel so good you forget his fucking name.”
Your thighs clench at his words; the possessiveness in his tone grips you. “Fuck, Matty,” you whine, sudden heat flooding your body and pooling at your core. “Off, off, now,” you whine, yanking off his jeans and boxers in one motion and wrapping your hand around his hardening cock. It’s almost a reversal of last time; in Matty’s room, now, his skin bare while you’re clothed. Slowly, you pump his cock again, relishing the way his hips twitch under your touch.
You kick off your own jeans and crawl back up the bed, leaning towards Matty as he roams his hands down to the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head. Deft fingers work at the clasp of your bra and pinch your nipple as you slip the fabric off your body. “So fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs, gazing intently at your bare tits.
Sitting up, Matty climbs on top of you, kissing you hard and tracing a finger over the outside of your panties. A shiver runs through you and you grind against his hand, the fabric of your underwear scraping deliciously over your clit. You slide down the pillows so the pair of you are horizontal, looking up and losing yourself for a second in Matty’s big, brown eyes, liquid pools of fathomless desire. He tugs your panties down your legs, rubbing slow circles into your clit and swallowing your responding moan with a kiss. “Shit, Matty, come on,” you whine, rolling your hips against him.
“We have all night, love. Don't you wanna take it slow?” he murmurs, speeding up his motions at your clit. Liquid pleasure drips down your spine, blooming hot in your veins. A whine falls from your lips as he slips a finger into you, your cunt clenching desperately around him as he sets a torturously slow rhythm.
You groan. He’s so devoted to dragging everything out, insisting on toying with every encounter; you’re aching for it already. “No,” you retort. “Shut up and fuck me.” Weak bursts of heat rattle through you, insufficient, ramping up your desire as you kiss Matty desperately.
“So impatient,” he tuts, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and dropping his head to kiss your neck. “How do you want it?” he murmurs against your skin. Your stomach clenches at his words, unused to the care he takes with you, his lips reverent on your skin, awaiting your cue.
“Fast,” you gasp, a breathy moan falling from your lips as he slides another finger into you, the stretch between your thighs burning deliciously. “Hard,” you add, reaching down and wrapping a hand around his cock. “Come on, Matty, wanna come on your cock so bad,” His dick twitches in your palm and his jaw goes slack, desire burning in his gaze.
Matty pulls his fingers out of you, drawing them into his mouth and sucking your arousal off his skin. “Open up, love,” he instructs, spitting in your mouth when you drop your jaw for him. You swallow obediently, the taste of you sliding down your throat deliciously. Climbing off you, he lines his cock up with your entrance, teasing. “You ready?”
Nodding wildly, you clench your cunt and roll your hips, chasing the pleasure he holds just out of your reach. “Fuck me, please,” you whine, tangling a hand in his hair and tugging harshly, relishing the soft whimper he lets out. Finally, Matty enters you, the stretch divine in your cunt. He gasps as you clench around him, coaxing him deeper. “Harder,” you beg, digging your nails into his back and matching his thrusts with your hips to force him deeper into you.
“Whatever you want, love,” he grins. “Gotta give it to you just the way you want it before your little boyfriend gets his pathetic hands on you again,” he promises, the flash of guilt at the reminder of your sin indetectable against the waves of sweet bliss rolling over you. He sets a brutal pace, fucking into you wildly. Your pulse thrums in your cunt, cries falling from your lips as he thrusts impossibly deep into you.
“Shh, not so loud, sweetheart,” Matty murmurs against your lips, sliding two fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans. Your head spins, drunk on him, liquid heat coiling in your veins and melting you in his hands. Euphoria pools in your belly, blood pumping faster and faster, your hips meeting slick and sweet. “That feel good?” You nod fervently, incoherent whines falling from your lips.
You writhe under him. “Matty,” you whine. “Matty, please, fuck–” you gasp, voice breaking on the last syllable as he strikes oh-so-perfectly inside you. “Oh, God,” you cry, digging your nails into his shoulders hard enough to puncture skin. His hand comes down to tease at your clit, callused fingers deliciously rough against your swollen nerves. “Matty, please, please, please,” you whine, hips jolting involuntarily to chase the sweet, sharp bursts of pleasure that ricochet through you.
“Are you close, love?” he asks, his pace stuttering as his control slips.
“Yeah, fuck,” you murmur between soft moans. Matty redoubles his efforts, pressure mounting between your legs, coiling tighter and tighter as you cling to him, lips meeting in a messy imitation of a kiss. He strikes your clit just right, and you scream, heat racing through your blood and sparks exploding behind your eyelids. Euphoria burns you from the inside out, your cunt clenching around him desperately. A pained whine escapes you as he pulls out of you, spilling across your stomach with a groan. Your chest heaves as you gasp for breath, coasting on your high. Matty collapses next to you, breathing hard, and grins over at you wickedly.
Matching his grin, you drag a finger through the mess on your belly and suck it off, swirling your tongue around your finger exaggeratedly. Matty snatches your hand away and kisses you deeply. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”
“Yes,” you giggle against his mouth. “Is it working?” He nods almost imperceptibly, something intense shining in his eyes that you don’t quite want to understand. You cast your gaze anywhere else, and he clears his throat sheepishly. “I’m, uh, gonna go get cleaned up,” you say, wincing at the cliche as you pad into his bathroom.
Whatever lingering awkwardness you might’ve feared has dissipated by the time you return, cocking your head quizzically at his pose; propped up against the headboard, arms behind his head. “About that blowjob… What?” he complains as you burst into laughter. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, laughing. “I heard it as soon as I said it.” You climb back into bed next to him, resting your head on his bare shoulder.
Kissing at his neck, you taste the light sheen of sweat on his skin. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you tease, climbing over him and settling between his legs. “And that I’m generous.”
The sound of your phone clattering to the floor startles you awake. Blinking blearily, you comb a hand through your sleep-tangled hair. Twelve missed calls from your mum, three from your dad and… oh shit, seventeen from your boyfriend. “Matty,” you hiss, slapping his leg frantically from your position on the floor. “Matty!”
“Huh, what?” he murmurs groggily, stirring to peer down at you from the bed.
“I forgot Michael was coming up from London this morning!” you gasp, frantically hunting for your clothes, the enormity of the last few days suddenly in shocking clarity. Your phone buzzes at your feet as you wrestle with your bra, fingers shaking too much to close the clasps. The caller ID flashes his name, and you draw a trembling breath.
“Want some help?” Matty teases, and despite yourself, you do. You nod despairingly, his warm hands at your back a comfort even now. “It’ll be okay, love,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. His touch warms you through, your body melting instinctively against his. God. You are well and truly fucked.
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loptrcoptr · 2 months
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Ok yall. I just got moved to a new office yesterday. I am (for now) the only person in this entire wing (three office spaces in one little building) and am the only person who has been in this wing since… I think this past summer??
Moment of silence for the guy who came in earlier to use the bathroom, having had like six months of more of this being– I assume– what he thought of as his secret private shitter, only to find his special bathroom engaged.
He rattled the knob so determinedly before his brain kicked back in and he remembered other humans exist and he said “oh. Uh hello?” To which me, on the toilet therein, replied “hello!” Maybe too cheerily and he was so shocked oh! Pardon me im very sorry pardon ahem and scuttled right out the door. Which is maybe for the best, because if he had waited for me to finish I would not have been able to keep myself from saying “hey it’s ok, it can be our private shitting bathroom if you still want to use it” and then I’d end up getting written up to HR, who is my friend, and said friend would get to professionally scold me for talking about special poop bathrooms to people on the job, which I think she would enjoy too much
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hayleysstark · 5 months
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love how branch just. immediately praises his own singing. unprompted.
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all this max content has helped me make huuuuge progress on my milex ft. max fic today 👀 it may or may not be about to hit the 10k mark (it is)
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cuntyfieddemon · 8 months
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bebop? bebop.
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flowercrowngods · 1 year
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i just figure steve deserves some actual healing, and nancy needs to own up (something something don't thank those who broke you for making you grow)
Steve’s not very proud of it, but being alone with Nancy always makes him a bit antsy. Like the history between them is making the air sizzle and cackle with guilt and treacherous what ifs that Steve doesn’t really care about but can’t help obsessing over. Not in a desirable way, just in an If I don’t think through every possible outcome of this specific scenario, I am going to combust on the spot. 
So he thinks about Nancy. Like that, sometimes, but not because he wants her. It’s just… He knows her either like that or not at all. They never really talked about what happened. They never really cleared the air and instead let the heaviness settle. 
Maybe it’s because heaviness in the air is all Steve knows, but it is starting to wear on him. Especially after everything he said in the face of approaching death. He meant it, too, but in retrospective, he is aware he only sees Nancy with him because no one else ever let him see himself somewhere. 
And Nancy let him. When she knew damn well that her heart wasn’t with Steve. She let him. 
And she let him in the Upside Down, too, let him ramble and let him apologise and let him thank her. I love you, I’m sorry. What the hell am I sorry for?
He wants to be mad, wants her to acknowledge the hurt he went through, wants her to apologise. But it’s been two years. He should be over it. 
How could he be, though? With air so heavy it feels like he’s breathing in lead? 
And now here they are, alone in his house – this big fucking house – and she’s taking a seat on the couch opposite him, both of them leaning sideways against the backrest. 
“Steve,” she begins after a while, her arms around her legs, her head on the couch, looking really pretty in the soft glow of the warm light. 
“What’s up?” 
They’re quiet. Somehow, with Nancy, Steve is always quiet. 
There must be a poem in this somewhere. 
She sighs and just looks at him for a while with that look. That Nancy Wheeler look of I’ve got you all figured out but you need to help me fit the pieces together and show both of us you’re more than the mere sum of your life’s pieces. Steve swallows and waits, mirroring her position on the couch. 
“I need you to take that back. What you said in the Upside Down.” 
His heart skips a bit, the lead growing heavier now, turning into apprehension and dread and the fear of being seen by Nancy Wheeler. Or the fear of having her think that she sees him when she never really did. And now she’s asking him to take back the one time he needed her to really, truly see him. 
“What do you mean?” It’s barely more than a whisper, but it carries through the heaviness just fine. Don’t reject me now. Not again. Not as your friend. Not as Steve. 
“You called yourself an idiot,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips, but there’s more, so Steve bites his tongue. “And you said something about… You were thanking me. For giving you a hard enough thump on your head so you could change and grow into a better person. Remember?” 
Remember the one time you did not shy away from sincerity because you thought you were going to die and told the one person who let you love her, really love her, that you were thankful for everything that happened even though it ended like it did? Remember the one, the first time, you told anyone about your dream? About your life, your future, your desire? 
Remember, Steve Harrington? 
“Sure,” he rasps, his eyes now breaking away from Nancy, focusing on a loose thread on the blanket thrown over the couch. “What about it?” 
“I need you to take that back.” It’s Nancy’s turn to whisper now, and she sounds so sincere that Steve never wants to look at her again because he’s so scared of what he’ll find in her eyes. 
“Why? It’s true.” 
“No, Steve. No, it’s not.” 
She doesn’t say anything more than that for a while but he feels her gaze on his shoulders. His confusion must show on his face and his head is starting to hurt form the frown between his brows, but still he doesn’t look up. 
“Steve,” she whispers, imploring now, and he closes his eyes because he has a feeling like his world is going to fall apart again any second now, and once more it will be because of Nancy Wheeler. 
Even two years later, she still holds that power, even though she doesn’t hold his heart anymore. 
“That growth, that healing that you did? That’s not on me.” Her voice is wavering and Steve’s frown feels more intense by the second, and maybe he’s clenching his eyes shut. Maybe his hands are shaking where they’re clenched together, wrapped around his shins. “You can’t… I hurt you. I hurt you so bad, Steve, and I know that. You didn’t deserve any of that, and–” 
“You were scared and grieving Nance, it’s–” 
“It’s not fine,” she interrupts him, and she sounds so final that Steve clamps his mouth shut. Everything about him is tense and he doesn’t want to hear it, but at the same time he feels like he can only breathe again when he heard what Nancy has to say. It’s a special kind of torture. The Nancy Kind. 
“It’s not fine, Steve, and… And still you’re out there, thinking you will die, and you thank me? That’s when I realised that I never apologised. I never let you… I just…” A sniffle interrupts her monologue and Steve feels his own eyes beginning to sting. “All that growth, Steve, that’s on you. And you didn’t grow because I thumped your head. I broke your heart. Big time. And you chose to grow. To heal. You chose that. Do you remember when you told me, right after everything happened, ‘It’s okay, Nance?’ and ‘I might be a shitty boyfriend but I’m a damn good babysitter’, or something like that? That’s. That’s you. That’s always been you.
“I’m the one who hurt you. Who broke your heart. But I will not be the one who lets you believe that those who break you get to take any credit in how you heal. I will not be the one who stands by and listens to you calling yourself an idiot in the same breath you’re thanking me for breaking your heart like that.” 
Nancy is crying now, the silent way that will make your voice waver and the tears roll, but that won’t turn into sobs or anything like that. Steve knows, because maybe, maybe he’s crying, too. 
“You can’t spend your life tricking yourself into misguided gratitude when the only one to ever change your life and your heart like that is you, Steve Harrington. Do you hear me?”  
There is a hand on his knee, and suddenly they are hugging, clinging to each other like the lead in the air between them has now settled on their shoulders, and the only way to be okay is to cling to each other with the grip of understanding and forgiveness. 
“I’m so sorry,” Nancy whispers into his neck. “You’re so good, Steve. So good. And you’re all of that because of you.” 
Steve doesn’t really know what to say, and even if he did, he couldn’t say it around the lump in his throat, so all he breathes out is, “Okay,” and, “It’s okay,” and, “Thank you.” 
He’s not sure if Nancy hears, but it doesn’t really matter. She is smart enough to know simply from the way he refuses to let her go, breathing around her for the very first time in two years. And he knows from experience – so much experience – that breathing is where healing starts. He has a notion that they will be fine. Finally, finally, they might be fine.
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numerodix · 4 months
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"Honestly, I did almost develop feelings for her. But very briefly. It was when I thought maybe I was Jung Ki-ho. I was attracted to her as Ki-ho. You know how well I empathize. I have the "feeling" trait in my MBTI. Now that I know I’m not Ki-ho, I see her as my brother’s friend. That’s it. Satisfied ?"
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unawakening-float07 · 7 months
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i’m hung over from trying to impress my dilf friend last night at the gay bars, when the FUCK does panda express open cause i need beef and broccoli
🤕😵😵‍💫
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scribblersobia · 4 months
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We live in a world where -
1. In USA women don't have abortion rights, that is a clear violation of human rights.
2. Femicide in Latin America.
3. Gender inequality in the world. (European countries).
4. The women being deprived of education throughout the world. Especially, in Iran, afghanistan and other middle eastern countries where school tanks were poisoned so girls parents would stop sending them to school.
5. Child marriage, domestic abuse, early pregnancy, women are expected to carry domestic workloads, violence against women, sexual assault all over the world. Which usually make headlines in Asian countries.
6. Financial dependency which makes them vulnerable.
7. There are single mothers, who are either divorced or their husbands passed away due to some reasons. This world is not kind for a widow or a divorced women. A man can remarry and nobody will question him but a woman remarries who world will come to eat her alive.
8. Even climate change is a woman's enemy. It was in news that girls of the age 9+ age are married off because their families have lost everything when the natural calamity occurred. They marry their daughters because ofcourse girls are burden.
9. Among this we have a section of women who are privileged. Some women from this section practice their powers, knowledge and education wisely and others practice fake feminism.
10. Women are expected to do the households work, raise kids and also the man she married. She is expected to adjust and give up on her career because it is only a woman's duty to keep her marriage alive. (This is the reality of 80% women living in India).
11. If a woman talks about women's issues then she is labelled as a "feminist" or the famous "woman ☕". Because, they think women can only cry and play a victim card. Well done 👏.
12. Carry a pepper spray, knife, send location, do this..do that ... when you are out. We can't even travel safely.
This is not detailed, I wrote whatever came to my mind but all the facts mentioned above are true. I may have missed so many problems that women face on day to day life. No abortion rights in USA, stop doing politics with women bodies, USA .
Women's issues are not women's problems, they are the world's problem. Imagine a world where all this is fixed and women are finally treated as humans. Men sitting in big offices, decide what they should do with a woman's body, they make crap cinema where women are objectified; also shame on such women who participate in such stuff. We can't improve if we don't work on the root cause. A society will never grow without the contribution of a woman. ALSO, I AM NOT LASHING OUT AT MEN. I AM TALKING ABOUT THE PROBLEMS( SO DON'T LECTURE ME ABOUT HOW NOT ALL MEN ARE SAME.. I KNOW THAT! THANK YOU)
Sometimes, I think men would be so happy to live in a world without women. No women, no one to control, no one to dominate, no one to do politics with and they will live happily ever in their own manly world.
Ps: This post was for only women. ALSO READ THE TAGS. THANK YOU.
@scribblersobia
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pirates-swoop · 1 year
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I'm in a gay club and there's an elderly man here who apparently is a regular and he's in a mobility scooter and the fact he's accommodated enough to be a regular may make me cry
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killa-trav · 5 months
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i still can't get over george thinking he sounded gangster when he said well fast
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slowly, slowly, slowly learning how to bridge the gap in my teaching between overexplaining and underexplaining so I hit that exact sweet spot of getting the kids to the place where they’re interacting with a text that is absolutely over their heads and out of their leagues but their excitement, generated by me but sustained by them, and the right amount of scaffolding and explanation lifts them up to be able to meet it, enjoy it, learn from it, be affected by it. 
#teaching tag#it is MAGIC when that happens#anyway i've been showing them macbeth this year instead of reading it because we don't have time to read it#and i've been severely in my head about the uselessness of it#and how it's not doing anything#but i had a good talk with another teacher about it and she was like 'no no! keep going!'#and then today we watched the malcolm and macduff scene and i could feel the room listening to the language#not quite understanding it but reaching out towards it#and it was SO. GOOD.#it helps that the guy who plays malcolm is young and cute#tbh i would never underestimate the importance of that#me choosing my shakespeare adaptations carefully so they get to look at someone young and beautiful enough for a period of time#anyway teaching has been just the absolute doldrums for a couple months now and this feels like a nice break and streak of light#like i just can't ever rule out the possibility that their hearts can be caught by something that we're reading#despite my common sense telling me not to put too much stock into their emotional reactions#because doing so would lead to my burnout and bitterness#because you can't force anyone to fall in love#but you can set the stage and clear the rubbish and lay the fire for lighting#and just wait for a spark to catch#anyway this tension between the orderliness and peace and box checking that i WANT to be a part of my room .....#and the moment of a student just suddenly being illuminated. inspired. in love !!!!!!!#i love it. i love it a lot!
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hayleysstark · 5 months
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fave thing about this movie is that all the trailers make it out like poppy is insane and branch is her singular brain cell but actually it's the other way around
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I appreciate the amount of AsterionBaldur's Gate 3 content on my dash. Alas that I'm a Xbox gamer 😭💔
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jaanwangji · 2 years
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'CAUSE NOBODY KNOWS YOU BABY THE WAY I DO AND 'CAUSE NOBODY LOVES YOU BABY THE WAY I DO ITS BEEN SO LONG ITS BEEN SO LONG MAYBE WE'RE FIREPROOF 'CAUSE NOBODY SAVES ME BABY THE WAY YOU DO
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