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cillianhead · 11 months ago

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oppie (cillian’s version) is a sub change my mind

i think oppie (cillian's version) is a freak in the sheets. (listen this is all just me daydreaming more about Cillian AS OPPIE just doing stuff BUT LIKE I DO SAY STUFF REFERENCING OPPENHEIMER KIND OF??? SO SORRY IF ANYTHING IS INCORRECT (tbh this ain't that freaky it's just me writing a short little random blurb lol) (also i sorta switch in and out of using she / you)... 18+ OBVIOUSLY MINORS DNI!!!)

i think he's probably more than happy to be a dom or a sub, he doesn't really care. I think he'd also be into being pegged by his woman or pulled around on a leash or slapped around. oppie is pretty open-minded and pretty eager to 'spice' things up. but this is all just me daydreaming

i can imagine you in the Los Alamos home, waiting for him in bed after a long day's work of telling men what to do. And finally... the time when he got told what to do... whether it be fuck her harder until his back aches or let him be the chew toy he usually was. she liked to joke she'd make him his own personal collar to go along with his clothes... and the thought of that did turn him on, not strange at all to him who stares into the making of the death of mankind. The idea of sex was something just as complicated and interlaced with deep intricacies we will never understand but also something more primal. Something that reminded him he was human. And fuck... staring into your sticky pussy you fiddle with as he starts to undo his tie was like frying every cell in that brain of his.

"No... keep it on..." You shake your head, fingers still drawing circles lazily on your clit barely teasing yourself as you lay there proudly for him. His eyes soaked in your body and how utterly breathtaking the sight of what lies in between your legs was. "I wanna pull you around on it..." "Well... yes, ma'am," He'll flare his nose in a tone of amusement as he tips his hat off to her and sets it down on the dresser as he unbuttoned his shirt. Robert would watch you in the mirror as you slid your sticky fingers to your thinly-veiled tits, slipping your fingertips under the lacy top and toying with your hard and incredibly sensitive nipples. You drove him crazy in the best of ways... in the ways he should be crazy. "Now don't look at me like that, bunny..."

"You're taking way too long to undo those buttons of yours..." You complain and he'll roll his eyes as he always does once he gets off his top pieces, he's undoing his belt and pants within a matter of seconds. His tie still around his neck as he stood fully naked and fully erect for you as you got up on your knees on the bed, perched up and facing him as you leaned in. You'd grab his chin and he'd feel how wet your fingers are. "Are you gonna behave tonight, daddy?" You asked, tilting your head as you yanked on his tie a little, enjoying the way he flinched.

"Yes, of course, my darling..." He nods desperately, mouth full of drool for your demands. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it... command me, I'm your slave." "Get on your fucking knees and beg..." You whisper harshly and then slap him across the face and he lets out a delightful sigh at the familiar burn and the handprint on his face. "You like that don't you..." As he collapses to his knees, Oppie nods and prays for you to give him something.

"Please... Y/N..." Oppie tries, head tilted slightly down as you lower your feet down to the floor and run your fingers through his short hair, treating him like a dog. "I'll be a good boy." You pulled his face to force him to look at your pretty pussy, close enough to smell but not close enough to taste... you were teasing him. "I beg of you..."

'Tsk Tsk Tsk' You shook your head with a smug grin on your face, swaying your hips and tantalizing him with his favorite view. "More."

"Darling," He pleaded, eyes so big and blue, he was defenseless to how he showed his emotions through the dread of the irises honesty. "Please let me taste you... I've dreamt about you in my head all morning and all afternoon..." "Dreamt of me?" You mused.

"In the daytime," He mumbles, trying to shake his head from your grasp like a feral dog trying to get at its prey. "I see flashes of you... pictures of you... traces of you everywhere... I see you in my mind wherever I go."

"How very romantic of you," You chimed, letting go of his hair to lean back on the bed and prop your legs up on his shoulder, spreading yourself out on display for him. His pupils expanded like black holes on the horizon of a dying sun that shone blue. "You can taste..."

No other words were said by him as he (for once) mindlessly dove in and buried his face into your wet cunt. Oppie wasn't sure there was a god up above but he knew this was heaven right here with his head between your thighs and your lips slipping his name loudly and endlessly.

He loved being bossed around, being possessed, it reminded him of his body, and for once not his mind.

??? did any of this make sense??? sorry??? lol

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #oppenheimer #oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer smut #oppie #oppie x reader

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dudeshusband · 4 months ago

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Title: Where the Blue and Lonely Go

Ship: Mike x Dude (2 1/2 years pre-canon)

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Alcoholism, toxic dynamic (coupled with a little age difference. don't worry about it), emetophobia, hurt/comfort

Note: This would be my s/i before they came out. Dude understands them to be a woman. I just use their (i.e. my) current name and pronouns for reasons of my comfort and everyone else's (kinda like when a Wikipedia page gets edited after a person comes out).

Description:

Soon I'll be there with a glass of wine, where the blue and lonely go.

Dude returns to town after running away with the girl from the stage.

That girl from the stagecoach, whose name no one ever bothered to remember, was bad news. Everyone could see, except poor Dude. He dropped everything he had in their little town to run away with her. Six months later, he returned. She was nowhere in sight. His friends were simultaneously overjoyed and saddened to see him. They had missed their friend very much, but he was clearly worse for wear. His warm brown eyes had lost their warmth and become distant, empty. He didn’t look like he came back to town on purpose, but rather like a stray who only knew one safe place to stay. He had no home here, not anymore.

The stagecoach that brought him back ran at night. He found himself in the threshold of the Hotel Alamo, half in the dark and half in the light. Carlos watched him, unsure what to say. Dude didn't say anything, just stood in the doorway, as if he needed to be invited in.

Carlos broke the silence. “You come in, Dude. Sit down and I’ll see about a room.”

“I don’t have a lot of money,” he replied. He had spent a lot of it on booze, the hotel where he and his girl had stayed, and the stagecoach home. His time at his new job wasn’t enough to save anything. He was almost penniless.

Carlos waved that idea off. “You were the deputy. A good man. You can stay for free.”

He was. He was a good man. He was the deputy. He was going to be a married man. What was he now?

“Thank you,” Dude said quietly.

Carlos walked away to where they kept the keys. Dude looked around the hotel, remembering all the things he had done here in times past. He looked at the bar. Where were they? The bar looked so empty without his best friend to tend it. Mike would smile at him and offer him whisky after a long day’s work. They would ask him about his day and listen attentively. He should have listened to them about the stage girl. He knew that now.

When Carlos returned, Dude asked after Mike. “Where’s Mike, Carlos?”

“Asleep, I think. They have been very tired. I have been tending the bar at closing.”

He frowned. He didn’t want to wake them but he desperately wanted — no, needed, to see them.

Carlos handed him the key to his room, and Dude made his way up the stairs. There was an ache in his back from the long stage trip. He didn’t bother finding his room. His feet took him to Mike’s, by muscle memory. He took a deep breath and knocked. Mike was a light sleeper, so it only took a knock more to stir them.

They opened the door, only in their nightgown. Once they registered Dude, they shut the door partially and blushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t think to put a robe on,” they said.

“That’s alright,” he said. He wasn’t in the mood to care about Mike’s state of dress. He pushed through the door, not asking to come in.

Mike stood dumb, watching Dude slip through the door frame. He took them in his arms and sobbed. Their heart fell to the floor. Quickly, they returned his embrace, and walked them backwards to their bed. They maneuvered so that he was sitting in their lap. He continued to sob. His tears were beginning to drop onto Mike’s neck. They petted his hair, tangling their fingers into his soft curls.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mike asked him. He said nothing, only cried. Mike tried to rock him to the best of their ability.

“Why did she leave me?” Dude eventually asked, sobbing into Mike’s shoulder. Everything he said came out in a pathetic mess of blubbering. He meant the stage girl. The same woman they and Chance had told him was bad news. It was the wrong time for an ‘I told you so.’

“Because she was a goddamn fool,” Mike said with conviction.

“I thought we’d get married. I’m almost 40 goddamn years old and I-”

Dude broke down into more sobbing, drowning out the rest of his sentence.

“Hey, shh, hey. Remember who you’re talking to, huh? I never even kissed anybody. I’m about to be 22.”

“You got time. I’m runnin’ out.”

Mike frowned, but continued playing with his curls. “Dude, you are a very handsome man. You’re a damn good man too. I mean that. If every woman in Texas is too foolish to see that, it’s not your fault.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Mike knew that feeling too personally. It was too real for them.

“You’re not alone,” Mike assured him. “You have me, and Chance. And you remember old Stumpy?”

“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded. “Let me stay. Please. Don’t leave me.”

It shattered their heart to hear him so desperate. They had never seen him so weak and vulnerable in all the time they knew him.

“You can stay,” they said gently. “I’ll take the floor and you-”

Dude shook his head. “I don’t want to put you out of your own bed.”

“I can’t let you sleep on the floor after that awful night you must have had on the stage.”

They moved to get up but Dude grabbed their wrist. “Hold me?”

Mike knew it was improper. They weren’t married. They weren’t even romantic, only friends. They couldn’t just have any man in their bed. Yet, they couldn’t say no to those big, brown eyes, or the way he clinged to them like a lifeline.

They wrapped themselves and Dude under their blankets and pulled him close. Dude nuzzled into the neck and breathed in their scent. Mike smelled sweet and citrusy that night. He almost wondered if they’d had a bath recently. It wasn’t any of his business. Mike was soft and warm, just what Dude needed.

“You smell nice,” he told them as his eyelids grew heavy. Mike’s heart skipped a beat. He clearly wasn’t thinking right. He was sad, lonely, and tired. He’d never be in their bed after this.

They were wrong.

Dude came back the next night, only he wasn’t the least bit sober. He stumbled into their bedroom, and started taking off his shirt without any thought of propriety.

Mike swatted his hands. “Hey! This is a small town! I don’t want people thinking-”

“That we’re fucking?” he laughed. “Would that be so bad?”

Mike’s mind split in two. They were shocked by the vulgarity of what Dude had just said, for sure. On top of that, they wanted to know whether he meant the gossip or the actual act itself.

As he started singing nonsense to himself, they knew this was the wrong time to ask. He wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d never say anything like that sober.

“Alright, come on you big ‘ol drunk,” Mike said. “To bed with you. Watch your language and don’t vomit on my sheets.”

“If you wanna be my momma so bad-”

Mike whacked him with a pillow. Dude giggled and looked up at them with a big smile. If he didn’t smell so much like whisky, Mike would say he was adorable.

He was a lot less adorable when he started retching into a bucket they’d grabbed for him. They rubbed his back and held him as he threw up every bit of food they’d offered him. They were so worried he’d lose weight. They’d try to feed him more tomorrow.

Now, all they did was make sure he hadn’t gotten anything on himself and made sure he got to sleep safely. Eventually, they got a couple hours of sleep.

Dude quickly ran out of his own money. Mike knew he would. They hoped it would stop him.

They were wrong.

He convinced them to go to one of the bars in town. Mike had no idea how he’d managed it, only that they were standing at the bar, in front of a bartender cleaning a glass.

Dude turned to them. “You’ll buy some for me, won’t ya?” he asked them. He was looking at them with his big, wet, brown eyes. He was a master at a puppy dog face. Damn it, they didn’t want to enable him. They didn’t want him vomiting into a bucket again. They wanted him sober and happy. They wanted him safe. “Please? It’ll help.”

Mike shook their head. “You gotta figure this out. You have to get better-”

Softly, pleadingly, he said, “Help me take the pain away.”

That broke them. They bought him glasses of whisky until they had to ask the bartender to help carry him out.

Mike felt horrible as they laid him down on their bed.

“I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I’m supposed to be your friend! If I could be a hardass like Chance…If I didn’t…”

They bit back the words. If I didn’t love you so much. Dude was the most dear thing Mike had ever had. They hadn’t had very many friends in their life but they knew Dude was special. They needed to get him sober. They wouldn’t let him drink himself to death.

They were wrong again. Any time Dude begged them for alcohol, they bought it. Silver dollars one by one fell from Mike’s hand onto the counter of every bar in town. Mike watched themselves squander their money. They watched themselves drag their drunk friend home. They watched themselves stay up all night caring for him.

Carlos had banned Dude from drinking at the Hotel Alamo, but Dude could still convince Mike to sneak a drink or two. They left silver dollars under the bar every time they did.

Carlos did not like what he had to do.

He found Mike at the bar one afternoon, run down and barely able to stand. It pained him to see such a hard working employee this way. If he were being honest, Mike was also a friend. He did not like seeing his friends this way either.

“Mike,” he said as sternly as he could. “We must talk.”

Mike stepped out from behind the bar. “Yes, Señor Robante?”

“You cannot go on like this. You have to make Dude leave. Or-” He sighed. “I will have to fire you. He is taking too much of our stock. Too much of your money.”

Mike’s heart sank. They couldn’t put Dude on the street. They wouldn’t. They didn’t care if they had to give up a little money, a little alcohol.

“Please, not as my boss, but as my friend, let me keep him here,” Mike said. “I pay for my room, I do my job. I pay for him. Don’t make me turn him out. I- He’s my best friend. He’s all I have.”

Carlos looked at Mike with pity. “You will not like the end of this, señorita.”

Somewhere in their brain they knew he was right. In their heart, they did not care.

They held Dude in their arms for another night and knew they could not leave him.

Day by day, Dude looked worse and Mike only grew more tired. He got drunk, they got broke. So, the cycle went. They could not leave him.

They needed to see Chance.

They knocked on the jail door. It swung open and Chance frowned at them.

“Mike, you look-”

“I know.”

Mike looked at Chance for a long time. The crease at the center of his forehead defeated any attempt at concealing his worry.

“Chance, I need you to help convince me to kick Dude out.”

“He’s eating all your food, drinking all the liquor in town, and wasting all your money. That’s reason enough. What do you need my help for?”

“I can’t do it. I’m too soft. Maybe it’s because I’m not a man, but damn it, I can’t hurt him. Chance, I love him. I need him.”

Chance’s face had the same pity that Carlos’ did. “You have to let him go. He’s a grown man, he’s either going to sink or swim on his own. You have to let him. You put his fate in your hands, and you’ll blame yourself. Don’t. It’s his fault, let him live with it. You shouldn’t have to.”

Mike struggled not to cry in front of Chance. “I’ll try. I know you’re right.”

They found Dude putting his clothes back on from a midday nap when they got into the room.

“Dude?” Mike said softly.

“Yeah?” he replied, barely above a whisper. His eyes looked weary.

“You have to go.”

Dude’s face fell, and his shoulders along with it. “Go?”

Mike took a deep breath. “You need to leave my room. You need to leave this hotel. You need to leave my life.”

Dude blinked away tears. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.”

Mike fought the urge to pull him close. “I need you to leave, Dude.”

“Do you want me to?”

No. No. No.

“Don’t ask me that,” Mike said, their voice brittle.

“I thought we were friends. I thought you wanted to help me.”

They did, they do.

They swallowed. “I can’t help you.”

Dude grabbed them and held them in a hug they didn’t return. “Don’t do this. Don’t listen to Chance, or Carlos, or anybody. Don’t put me out on the street. I need you, Mike.”

It was so hard to keep their strength when Dude held them. It was hard not to let him use them over and over.

It was the alcohol. This wasn’t Dude. It was the addiction.

Maybe this was Dude now. The Dude he allowed himself to become. The Dude that Mike allowed to use them.

“Let go of me,” Mike told him sternly. “Take your clothes. Leave. Now.”

He took their face in his hand. “I’ll never stop missin’ you. If I die out there alone, my last thought just might be of your face.”

He took his things and left.

Mike cried for months.

#typewriter dings #self ship #self shipping community #dude

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umbramatic · 2 months ago

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I Bought An Alarmo So You Don't Have To: A Post

I Bought An Alarmo So You Don't Have To: A Thread/Post

So Nintendo revealed its Alarmo alarm clock a while back, and like. Nintendo could have EASILY contracted a third party to make a normal alarm clock, slap some Nintendo branding on it, and sell it for much cheaper, because that's what any other big media company would have done, but no, they had to be extra. And reactions ranged from "i want one" to "what the fuck, this isn't the switch 2, this is so weird and stupid".

I was initially in the latter camp. But there was always a twinge of. Morbid curiosity to it. And a desire to fix something about myself.

See, I am AWFUL at getting up in the morning. I'm not a morning person. Most alarms on my phone and such I just hit snooze or stop endlessly even when I set a billion of them. But Alamo is different. Alarmo bugs you to get out of bed if you try to lie back down. So since I had extra money from my job, I was like, "maybe it's worth a shot I GUESS" and despite my reservations bought one.

It arrived in a package a few days later. I was surprised by how small it was.

I knew it needed to be right next to my bed, so I moved a dog crate next to it and stacked a bunh of books on top for the Alarmo to sit on.

I got it all set up...

And went to bed relatively soon after because I needed w to get up early the next morning.

And you know what? The thing works.

...Mostly.

I was awakened to loud Salmon Run noises, which were what I chose the night prior. (I later switched to other noises, especially Pikmin noises, I felt were even more intense.) They did in fact stop when I got out of bed. The motion sensors do their job very well. Sometimes too well.

The box mentioned pets can throw it off and my dog DOES sleep with me but she's small and sleeps away from the sensor and gets out of bed when I do so she doesn't mess with it much.

(Okay, not entirely true, she DOES mess with it sometimes...)

You know what potentially messes with it? The body pillow I sleep with. Maybe. Possibly.I toss it out of the bed to make sure but also it's kinda inconsistent if it triggers it or not.

So maybe I should probably add a disclaimer about body pillows? Maybe not? Unsure.

I also kinda threw it off sitting on the edge of the bed putting new clothes on - that made it think I was still in bed.

But the thing is it is actually succeeding at getting me out of bed. The fact it just goes off again if you lie back down is really helpful for me specifically. There was one time where I set it really early to get up for work and I fell back asleep on the couch to thwart the alarm and had to be woken up by my staff but the next day I set the alarm for slightly later and woke up for work fine.

Even with the regular mode there IS a button to forcibly turn the alarm off which is dangerous for me specifically because that's my entire problem with normal alarms. But I gotta work on the discipline to not use it and find good timing so I'm less tempted to.

Also! There are bedtime noises!But they're always the same volume as the alarm so mine ended up a bit loud to be sleepy bedtime music.

Oh! And a summary of the alarms I've tried:

-The rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrandomizer -The aforementioned Salmon Run noises

-The rousing noises of Pikmin night expeditions -GROOVY LONGLEGS DISCO

-Pikmin just straight up drowning -Zelda telling me to wake the fuck up

-Barking chain chomps to go with my barking doggo

So like. It's definitely still kind of a novelty item and I still rather not have paid 100 bucks for it. But the specific features it has are helpful for someone like me who is ass at getting up in the morning, so it's worth a shot if you fall into that specific category. Now if you'll excuse me I'm setting it to Pikmin drowning again because I'm a sick freak.

#alarmo #nintendo #review

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ghost-types-and-sweets · 2 years ago

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darkrai is pure dark type! yea she looks a bit ghostly but. not a ghost

however you should totally participate i think

I have realized I do have friends on this site. If you would like to attend I have the information.

#all lighthearted i can see how its easy to mistake him for a ghost type!#cb blogs! alamos town #ooc: ofc ask/tell the person running this i prommy shes nice she doesnt bite /h

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lemonlyman-dotcom · 11 months ago

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*Buck & TK Cried on the Teacups for an Hour while Mateo chased Captain America around the park for an autograph

**Chimney asks it ‘why the long face?,’ TK does not laugh (Mateo does)

***She Tells Carlos His Husband Has “Big Buck Energy,” he does not know how to take that

#reblog and let everyone know how you voted in the tags & comments!#911 lone star #911 abc #911 fox #tarlos #911 lone star rewatch 2024 #Rewatch Polls

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fatehbaz · 1 year ago

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Seventy-five years after two nuclear bombs were dropped on Japan — killing hundreds of thousands of people in the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki — one small community in the Northwest Territories is still haunted by its connection to the blasts. Across Great Bear Lake from the 533-person hamlet of Délı̨nę sits the historic mining site of Port Radium. [...] [T]he Canadian government quietly called for uranium production as part of the country's involvement in the Manhattan Project. That uranium was sent south to help the United States with the race to build a nuclear bomb. [...] [N]ear Great Bear Lake, workers would eventually wonder about the risks they took delivering sacks of ore on their backs as they sent it south — without being told what they were about to be complicit in. [...] Days after the blasts, the Canadian government announced the country's role in the explosions, citing the Great Bear Lake mine's uranium as a key ingredient for the project, said Geoffrey Bird, a professor at Royal Roads University in Victoria who studies tourism and the history of remembrance. An English-language sign connecting Port Radium to the atomic bomb was photographed in Délı̨nę in December 1945. [...] While the Canadian government hasn't apologized to Délı̨nę, the community has apologized to Japan. [...] Locals in Délı̨nę say many ore workers and their family members developed cancer later in life. [...] In the book If Only We Had Known, which tells the story of Port Radium from the eyes of the Sahtúot'ine, elders remember workers' clothing covered with dust, windy days when ore was caught up in the air and children playing games in mine tailings.

Text by: Katie Toth. “Spectre of atomic bomb still looms over N.W.T. community 75 years after Hiroshima.” CBC News. 5 August 2020.

---

[O]n 6 August 1998, 10 members of the small Sahtugot’ine Dene community of Deline (Fort Franklin) in the ‘Northwest Territories’ apologized in Hiroshima for the atomic destruction of that city – and the death of over 200,000 civilians – exactly 53 years earlier [...]. Eldorado Gold Mines Ltd. [was] placed under state control during World War Two. They [the Dene] were allowed only to help it [uranium] on its long and winding way, 3,000 miles by river, lake, road and air, from Port Radium on Great Bear Lake to Port Hope on Lake Ontario, where, from 1942-45, the suddenly precious ore – the ‘new gold’ of the atomic age – was, together with ‘Belgian’ uranium from the Congo, refined and dispatched to Los Alamos, the desert lab in New Mexico secretly building the new, city-smashing Superweapon. [...] Beginning in the 1970s, and spiking sharply in the 1980s, many of the men who had handled and carried the ore – and the men who had mined it – began to die from cancer [...]. The “Dene,” the CBC ‘revealed,’ “were never told of the health hazards they faced, even though the government knew … as early as 1932 that precautions should be taken in handling radioactive materials”. Instead [...] “workers [were] dressed in casual clothes and uranium dust [...] covered the men like flour.” [...] [A]s detailed in a December 1998 article [...] in First Nations Drum: [...] [T]he mine was kept running at a very high pace [...]. The Dene were employed as ‘coolies’ packing 45-kilogram sacks of radioactive ore for three dollars a day, working 12 hours a day, six days a week. This at a time when the ore was worth over $70,000 a gram. [...] In 1998, the Déline Dene Band Uranium Committee released a 160-page [...] report, “They Never Told Us These Things.” In a 2011 article in Maisonneuve, Salverson recounts a community meeting in Deline to discuss the report, “where [non-Dene] lawyers delivered a year’s worth of uranium-impact research from the archives in Ottawa,” revealing that in “the mountain of papers we dug up … there is not one mention of the Dene, your people.”

Text by: Sean Howard. “Canada’s Uranium Highway: Victims and Perpetrators.” Cape Breton Spectator. 7 August 2019.

#because of the movie about oppo and making of the bomb #port radium ultimately mined over 13 million pounds of uranium #ecology #landscape #abolition #colonial #imperial

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youthereader · 1 year ago

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Near Zero part 5.

PAIRING: cillian murphy as j. robert oppenheimer x fem!reader

SUMMARY: 1.3k words. Brought on as part of the Manhattan Project, your old physics professor sees you in a new light.

RATING: E; (no smut in this part) mentions of infidelity

A/N: Although based on real life characters, this is J. Robert Oppenheimer as played by Cillian Murphy, a fictional character, and does not intend to be accurate. This is merely for entertainment. It's been months but I'm finally back! Thank you for your patience and Happy 2024!

masterlist

You remember Robert’s note every so often over the next week. You have little time to plan anything properly about your Santa Fe trip, but you fantasize when you’re alone enough. You have only been to the town on your way to Los Alamos months ago, and you were different then. You hadn’t known what this part of the world was capable of.

This dreaminess seeps into your life when you walk into the center of town to buy lighter fluid. You’re out of matches and may have to resort to a flint if you don’t hurry along to the store – and on the way in, you see Kitty, a basket in one arm full of packages from the butcher.

“You again,” she murmurs, flashing her perfect teeth.

She keeps the door open, people moving past both of you. She gives a nod to some women drifting past. It reminds you of high school.

“Robert mentioned something about you and the boys going off on a weekend trip next month,” she says, and you watch her face for any sign of suspicion. “But he can’t have you all to himself all the time, dear. I can’t have you over for my wives’ club since you’re so busy…”

Your eyes meet and you realize she absolutely does not see you as a threat. She’s trying to make friends.

“Unfortunately,” you say, though you’re pretending a little.

“There you go!” she laughs, hitting your arm playfully. “So, you understand my issue. We cannot go on knowing each other and not seeing one another. This town is small enough as it is…”

She trails off, looking behind her at the customers, something passing over her face.

“Did you know I’m a botanist?” she says eventually, glancing back at you. “I’m not just Robert’s wife.”

“Of course, you’re not,” you say.

“And I suppose you have no garden outside that godforsaken shack you’re in,” she goes on, having recovered from whatever she was feeling a breath beforehand. “I’m going to have to give you some type of succulent.”

“A succulent?” you repeat with a smirk.

“Yes, dear. A cactus. Something.”

You appreciate this, having someone that isn’t from T building to talk to. You give a shrug.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

“Yes, and then you can come visit us again to pick it up,” Kitty conspires, smiling again. “Or Robert can drop it off at yours…”

You think of him visiting your house under innocent circumstances, hoping the irony doesn’t show on your face. You clear your throat.

“I’ll let you go,” you say, and she nods.

“Suppose I ought to get back to the brat,” she sighs. “He’s with a neighbor. Unless you’d like to join me?”

You shake your head automatically. “I need to get back to work.”

Kitty rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard that one before. Ta-ta.”

You watch her leave, and then finally walk into the store. Your head is full of Robert again; he must have mentioned Santa Fe while passing through his house. You can picture him bringing up this idea as if he hadn’t come up with it the night of the dinner party. Your face feels warm, remembering his lips on yours, the way he caught your hand in his.

You light a cigarette as you leave for lunch a week later, almost running into a uniformed officer. He calls you by your last name and you glance up, confused.

“Ma’am, Colonel Nichols wishes to speak with you.”

You feel some colleagues’ eyes on you, aware of Robert being within earshot, too.

“Yes?”

You can’t think of what else to say, given that you see there’s little choice in the matter. The young officer turns his heel, and you follow him out. You suck on your cigarette, exhaling to the side as you exit the building, keeping a brisk pace so you’re not left behind.

You only feel mild irritation when you arrive at Nichols’ office, since he doesn’t care that your lunch break is only so long, and there are only so many opportunities to take it throughout a busy workday.

You should have gauged Robert’s reaction on your way out, as Nichols does not seem pleased to see you despite his request.

“Please have a seat,” he says, barely looking up from his papers.

You would rather stand. You would rather not be there at all by how cold he is, by how your stomach growls. You don’t often listen to your body’s signals when you’re in the labs, but now you can’t ignore your rising hunger. You take a short inhale of your cigarette before mashing it in the ashtray in front of you, taking the seat he offers.

“I understand you have requested a weekend pass,” he says, finally looking at you.

His eyes behind his spectacles are pale and assessing. The blue smoke of your cigarette still lingers above your heads as you place your hands in your lap.

“Yes, was my application efficient?” you ask, and he smirks.

“You have never requested a pass before this week,” he says. “Why is that?”

You glance away, unsure of whether this is a joke. He has no right to know such a thing, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, nonetheless. Admitting the truth, that you haven’t wanted to leave because you had no reason to, made your life sound so small and sad. You refuse the mortification.

“I’ve been busy, or is that not a good enough reason, sir?” you retort, and he blinks, unmoved.

“It has nothing to do with Dr. Oppenheimer being present among the visitors of Santa Fe?” he says.

You freeze, wanting your cigarette back, wishing you had known it would be this way. Was he insinuating something, had he seen something? Heard a rumor?

“Dr. Oppenheimer and several of my colleagues will be in Santa Fe,” you say, drawing in a breath. You let it go, to seem bored by his invasiveness. “Are we not meant to spend time with one another outside of a laboratory? I would have thought the Army endorsed that kind of morale building among its ranks.”

You’re laying it on thick and he notices it, frowning ever so slightly.

“Oppie might not even come, he’s so busy,” you add with a half laugh. “And Feynman was always more fun. He is not pathologically introverted.”

“I would have thought you have been described as such, before this pass request came through,” Nichols drawls.

“Not diagnosed as such,” you say, a smile on your lips that you let fall instantly, knowing it to be a disturbing sight to some.

You no longer wish to pretend.

“Will I be allowed to leave Los Alamos or not?” you ask, and Nichols looks down at his papers, an open file.

“For now, yes,” he says.

You stare at one another, waiting for the silence to be broken. You refuse to blink, to further unsettle him. You despise being controlled and have not felt this type of outrage in a while.

“You may leave,” he says, and you rise from your chair.

He adds as you turn your back:

“Be careful, with what you share about the project.”

You always are. You turn back, frowning at him.

“Of course. Loose lips and all.”

He gives his own false smile, echoing you: “Of course.”

You find Robert later, who takes your elbow and steers you back out, making a show of insisting you get something to eat like you originally planned.

“Will you have lunch, then, Oppie?” someone teases, and he laughs softly.

When you are alone in the hallway, you stop, your voices lowering.

“Nichols knows. How does he know?”

“A guard, perhaps,” Robert says, and he is not anywhere near as concerned as you.

You stare at him. “Robert, I am being serious.”

“As am I,” he says, and he touches your cheek, then your shoulder, sighing. “My darling, I’m sorry you’re put through this.”

“I’m a willing participant,” you retort, and he shakes his head, just the once. “Will you please enlighten me-?”

“I have a file. And they watch me,” he whispers.

You look towards the entryway to the hall you occupy, then back at Robert. A distinct fear settles into you, deep down, to your marrow. You suppress a shiver.

Thank you for reading! I know I vanished for a while, but I hope to write more consistently. I have a nine month-old baby and it's hard to find time for creative things, so I'm very grateful to anyone who's been hanging out for more of this story! If you'd like to be added to a taglist, hmu! 🥰

#j robert oppenheimer #near zero #cillian murphy fanfiction #fem reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #oppenheimer x reader #oppenheimer x y/n

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lonestar-s5countdown · 5 months ago

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*Pausing frequently for Mateo and Paul to act out all the murder scenes

**Pausing frequently for Mateo and Paul to yell GET YOUR FUCKIN SHINEBOX at the TV

***Carlos makes him wear steel toed boots, a Kevlar vest and a helmet.

****but then has a panic attack bc she can’t get down.

*****but Carlos has a meltdown and breaks his easel because his colors keep running

******When Paul’s comes true and he wins the lottery the next day she demands a percentage of his winnings

*******Paul says he’s leaving if he has to try one of those dusty-ass excuses for a burger.

#911 lone star #Tarlos #911 lone star season 5 #tumblr polls #911 ls s5 countdown #Please reblog for visibility!!

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dwuerch-blog · 2 years ago

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Our Life360 App and Our Discerner

My Austin family (all 12 of us) are on the Life360 app. It is a free location-sharing app that keeps us connected via knowing where each of us are at, any given time — that is, if our cellphone is on and with us. I am on my way to San Antonio today for the Alamo Run to support EMwomen. It’s about a 2-hour drive. My children can ensure I’m okay because they might possibly track me from their…

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fable-rots · 7 months ago

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Hey everyone, do you like wcrp? do you like cowboys and wild west aesthetics? would you like both of them in one? then i have good news for you!! Scorched Earth WCRP is now open!! the plot has not begun as of now so there’s plenty of time to join!!

“SCORCHED EARTH takes place in the desert. The location is heavily based on Los Alamos, with some creative liberties taken. The different colonies surround a crater in the ground, an obelisk at the bottom - the original testing site for the atomic bomb. Overtime, the radiation has mostly cleared, and the strange green trinitite glass that covered the ground is mostly buried under the sand - except for deep within the crater.

The cats here are heavily religious, worshipping the Sun, and scorning anything else. Rules are strict and traditions are to be upheld always. There are of course differences between the colonies’ way of worship, but each dedicates themselves to Her nonetheless.

Within Mesa Clutter, Canyon Clutter, and Basin Colony, there are unique roles and cultures among the different groups. Each has their Clerics and Medics, but they also have colony-specific roles, such as Martyrs and Hunters. They all have their own strengths and weaknesses; Mesa is known for their rigid structure and their brutal force of power, Canyon is known for their close-knit family bonds developed deep inside their caves, and Basin is known for their joyful cooking and gratitude, always willing to share with others.

Outside of the colonies, deep in the Badlands, lives The Ramhorns. These Outlaws have formed a dangerous bond within the harsh and deadly terrain they must survive in. Lead by a giant shadow of teeth and claws, they gather the bones of those they’ve slain, using them in rituals and as a warning to anyone who dares venture into the Badlands, where, if the Outlaws don’t get you, the horrible conditions certainly will.

There are lone Outlaws as well, but anyone alone in the Badlands won’t usually last long

But there are exceptions.

Her light may protect them during the day, but when She is dragged underneath, predators and venomous animals prowl the night.

And in the shadows lurks monsters, made living by Elders’ tales of darkness incarnate, monsters opposite of their warm God.

Unnatural amalgamations…

The purest form of Evil.”

SCORCHED EARTH is a 15+ discord RP, run and created by plutothefrog! If this has piqued your interest even a little, feel free to pop in and check it out! https://discord.gg/Xw75rbcS

#hey gang! come check it out!!!#as mentioned above i’m not the owner or anything but i am modding it n helping advertise for it!!#wcrp #warriors #warrior cats #fanclan #<- technically??#idk man i’m trying to cover all my bases here #cowboy #wild west

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lacontroller1991 · 11 months ago

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Next Door Neighbor (Edward Teller x F!Reader)

Main Master List || MISC Master List

Requested by @mariedork : I don't know if you're still writing for the fandom/taking requests, but I'd love to request something about Teller and fem. reader. maybe something like reader is helping Teller with research at Los Alamos (I know the real teller was married but oh well) you're both into each other but trying to be professional, maybe use the prompt "we're in public you know"

Summary: You and Teller often butt heads until one night the tensions tip over and feelings are revealed.

Author's Note: This is clearly based on Benny Safdie as Edward Teller from the movie. If you do not like, do not read. Also sorry if I butched the Hungarian. I do not speak it and I tried my best with the translator.

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v, penile penetration, enemies to lovers, language, orgasm, female anatomy, male anatomy, slight misogynistic tone

Word Count: 4.2k

----------

The car ride is long and boring. Even the cheerful music from the radio couldn’t lift your spirits, not when you are being more or less shipped away to Los Alamos from your home in Berkeley. You suppose you should be grateful for the opportunity to work in close proximity to some of the greatest scientific minds of your time, but you would prefer it if you could stay in Berkeley and work under your doctoral advisor.

Seeming to sense your remaining frustration, Ernest Lawrence looks over to you, closing the folder in his hands and setting it in his lap. “You know, the more you frown, the more you’re going to get wrinkles,” he chuckles, poking your cheek causing you to frown even more.

“I still don’t know why you picked me over Lomanitz. Wouldn’t he be better at this?”

“Nah, I trust you more. Besides, you have better political ties than he does. You won’t be an issue.” He turns back to his dossier as you huff, looking out the window and watching as the brown landscape passes by.

After hours of driving, the car slowly comes to a stop, jostling you awake. Lawrence is the first to get out, moving towards his friend. Picking up your stuff, you manage to stumble out of the car, your legs miserably sore from the constant sitting.

“Physics side New Mexico, huh? My God, what a trek.” Lawrence smiles as he shakes Oppenheimer’s hand.

“That’s why you need a liaison,” Oppenheimer replies while Ernest tilts his head toward you.

“I’m appointing (Y/L/N).” Oppenheimer looks at you and smiles softly before gesturing to the driver to get your bags.

“You’re going to be okay.” You nod your head as Oppenheimer tilts his head. “Come now, we have much to discuss.” You and Lawrence follow Oppenheimer inside the building and you can’t deny how impressed you are at all of the different things going on inside. You watch in silence as Lawrence greets General Groves while Oppenheimer throws a couple of marbles into a glass bowl, causing the crowd to clap. Looking around the room, you note some familiar faces. Richard Feynman, who you’ve run into a couple of times. Of course Robert Serber, whom you’ve worked with and surprisingly Edward Teller, though you doubt he notices you. You remember bumping into him on a day that he was visiting Berkeley and then him immediately (and assumingly) exclaiming curse words in Hungarian before noticing you and shutting up. Gulping, you set down your jacket on a chair and hang in the back, out of site and out of mind.

“Well, here’s where you’ll be staying. I know it’s not much, but it does the job. Don’t mind your neighbor. We’ve gotten several complaints about him playing the piano late at night, so if it does disrupt your sleep, just let us know, we’ll figure something out,” the usher comments as you look around the bland room turning back to look at Lawrence in annoyance and even the ever so optimistic Lawrence looks like he shares some of your pity. The usher quickly leaves you and Lawrence alone.

“You owe me Ernest.”

“I promise. But you’re going to be fine. You have Oppie. He’ll help you!” Lawrence pats you on the back with a smile before looking around the barren room. “I think you can definitely spruce it up.” His comment isn’t appreciated and he can tell. Frowning, he slowly backs out of the room. “Well, do good. Don’t mess up and don’t make me look bad. Good luck.” He darts out of the room before you have the chance to say anything else. Dropping your bags, you let out a huff of annoyment.

“Just be thankful. Just be thankful.”

—-------

The days go by faster than you initially thought. Work is hard, sure, but working with several of the smartest minds helps the work go by quickly. The nights, on the other hand, are a completely different story. Since the night you got there, you’ve been tossing and turning in your bed, slowly drifting to sleep only to be woken by the slamming of a piano. Each night this happens, and each night you only get a few hours of sleep.

The piano slams again, causing you to let out a loud sigh of discontent. Throwing back your blanket, you swing your legs out of the bed and put on your robe, intending to give your neighbor a piece of your mind.

Walking out into the cold desert night, you stomp over to the house and knock sharply against the door, hearing the piano stop and chair scraping against wood, you tap your foot against the patio and wait for your neighbor to answer the door. What you don’t expect, however, is to see Edward Teller on the other side; and based on his reaction, he wasn’t expecting to see you too.

“What do you want?”

“I want to sleep, but your piano playing is preventing me from getting any,” you comment, your arms wrapped around your body as he raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“And that’s bothering you? Tünj el!” You can tell that he is annoyed by your comment, but you frankly don’t care.

“No. It’s the slamming the keyboard that is annoying me. It’s not hard playing Bartók.” You can see his eyes widen at the mention of the composer, almost as if asking ‘you actually know him?’. “And for the record. I do know him.” Teller stiffens, looking more intimidating by the second.

“Alright, if you know so much about Bartók, why don’t you play.” His Hungarian accent is thicker than it was a few seconds ago. Not being one to back down from a challenge, you brush past him into his house and sit down at the piano, aware of the holes that Teller was drilling into your head. Reading the sheet music, you let out a little scoff as you turn back to him.

“What about this is confusing you?” Silence. “Well?”

“Just play.” Shrugging your shoulders, you turn back to the piano and place your hands on the keys. As if it was instinctual, your fingers dance across the ivory keys, playing note for note Allegro Barbaro while Teller watches on in amazement, though he will never admit that. Finishing the piece, you sit at the piano for a few seconds before turning around to face the physicist.

“Satisfied?”

“Are you like this with your studies?”

“Naturally.”

“No wonder why they call you Lawrence’s protégé.” The comment causes you to blush. Of course you and Lawrence work closely together, and you guess you could say you’re one of his best students, but that doesn’t mean you’re a protégé. Nodding your head, you quickly stand up and fix your robe.

“Right. Well. Now that you know how to play it, please don’t slam the keyboard. It wears the piano down.” Teller furrows his brows and tilts his head, taking a step closer to you. Maybe it’s lack of sleep, or maybe it’s loneliness, but you feel a pull towards him and you don’t know what to make of it. He takes another step closer until you can feel his breath on your face and it causes your heart to race. “Well, I- I should probably get going,” you stutter out, dipping away from his body and rushing out the door, unaware of the way his eyes follow.

—-------

After finally being able to get some sleep, you wake up in the morning refreshed. By the time you get to your lab it is already bustling with personnel. If you thought that the Rad Lab in Berkeley was always busy, it really doesn’t compare to this.

“Ah, there you are,” you jump in surprise and turn around to Oppenheimer, hands clasped behind his back. “Lawrence called last night and asked me to pass along these measurements,” he hands you a piece of paper with writing on it. Clutching it in your hands, you nod in thanks, turning to leave but his hand reaches for your wrist. “Wait.”

“Yes Dr. Oppenheimer?” He lets go of your wrist and leans back on his heels, rocking back and forth.

“How are you finding it here? I haven’t seen much of you around and Lawrence asked me to keep an eye out for you.” Smiling softly, you turn your body towards the physicist.

“It’s alright. Nothing like Berkeley. I have finally been able to get some sleep.”

Nodding his head in response, he lights a cigarette and huffs it a couple of times before offering it to you, which you decline. “Good, well, keep up the good work.” He doesn’t say much else before skirting away. Shrugging your shoulders, you look down at the piece of paper, trying to make out what Oppie wrote before getting to work.

—-------

The sun has well past set in the sky by the time you gather your things. You suppose one of the good things about working here is that you can make your own hours versus the 22 hour days Lawrence would occasionally have you pulling. Shutting off the lights, you walk down the hall, noting that most of the staff has left by now, except for a room emitting a soft glow.

Peering your head into the room, you see Teller standing at a board, chalk scribbles scattered across and his suspenders down with his shirt untucked. Assuming the lack of assembly in his dress, he’s probably not having much luck with his work. Setting your coat and bag on a chair, you walk over to him and the board, getting a much better view of the problem.

Hearing your footsteps, Teller quickly turns around and lets out a stream of curse words at your presence. “Nice to see you too,” you quickly fire back, stopping at his side and crossing your arms, eyes gazing on the board.

“Now what do you want?” You can tell that he is annoyed, but you frankly don’t care.

“I was planning on going home but I saw the light in here was on so I was wondering who is doing what. So, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find another component to make this more powerful than Oppenheimer’s bomb,” you don’t know if it’s frustration or tiredness, but his accent seems to get heavier the more you hear him talk.

“What have you got so far?” He looks over at you and scoffs, turning back to the board.

“A student like you wouldn’t know.”

“Try me.”

“Deuterium needs to react with something else to ignite the fusion process, but I can’t seem to think of one that would work.” He runs a hand through his hair and you can’t help but to notice how handsome the Hungarian actually is and it has your heart racing.

“What about deuterium AND tritium?” His head slowly turns to you as if saying ‘are you serious?’ “What? Try it.” He scoffs but still inputs tritium into the equation and after a few minutes, he leans back, his face red. “Well?”

“Don’t play smug,” he quickly grabs his stuff and pushes past you, rushing out of the door, leaving you to stare at the board.

“I didn’t actually expect that to work,” you laugh to yourself before grabbing your stuff and heading in for the night.

—-------

The cyclotron hums softly in the background and if it wasn’t for people bustling around you, you’re sure you would’ve fallen asleep. Leaning back in your chair, you stretch your body with a yawn, cracking your neck from the stiffness. Scooting your chair back, you fix your outfit before heading out and walking down the hall where you know the coffee will be, but your name being said stops you in your tracks. Following the sound of the voice, you creep towards an open room, staying out of the doorframe and straining your ear.

“I can’t have her here. She is compromising my work!” Ok, so it’s Teller, but who is he talking to?

“It seems she’s helping you more than she’s compromising. Lawrence wouldn’t have sent her here if he didn’t have faith in her, and I trust Lawrence,” Oppenheimer comments as you creep closer. It’s pretty obvious that they’re talking about you, but why?

“A girl shouldn’t be working here, it’s too dangerous.” You jolt your head back in confusion. Sure, you knew that Teller probably hates your guts, but you didn’t think he would hate you this bad.

“Edward, she is just as good, if not better, than half of the scientists here. I am not going to get rid of her just because she ‘insulted’ your work.” You can distinctly hear Teller cursing before he’s walking out the door and right into you. His hard features soften upon seeing your eyes, slightly glossy, but it’s clear that you’re hurt by his words. Instead of speaking to you, he just dips his head and moves around you, rushing away leaving you standing there with an empty coffee mug. “I wouldn’t take it to heart, he doesn’t think that 90% of the staff should be here,” Oppenheimer comments from behind, causing you to jump in shock.

“It’s stupid, we’re all here for the same thing. We’re all here because we’re good enough AND smart enough to work on this project, no matter our gender.” Robert nods his head in agreement, inhaling smoke from his pipe.

“Just ignore him. Works for everyone else here.” He pats you on the back before moving to leave

“Hey, Robert?” He turns around to face you. “Thank you.” Robert nods his head before walking away.

----------

The clock reads 11:04 by the time you wrap up your work for the day. You knew that the days were going to be long before you came here, but you didn’t expect them to be this long. “God I’m so hungry.”

“It’s a good thing I brought some food.” His voice carries through the room, causing you to whip your head through the door only to spot the Hungarian physicist standing in the doorway, a paper bag in his hand.

“What are you doing here? I thought that you don’t want me here, let alone bring me food.” You can see his cheeks blush crimson ever so slightly as he makes his way over to you, sitting in the chair opposite of the control panel but still in your sight.

“I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have said those things.” His apology has your eyebrows raising in shock.

“Edward Teller? Apologizing? What world am I living in?”

“Don’t make me take it back,” he warns before scooting his chair next to yours, opening the bag and pulling out the contents. “I made some pörkölt. As an apology.” He pushes the tumbler towards you with a spoon and you’re not really sure how to react. After a moment, you take the spoon and bring a mouthful of the stew to your mouth. You don’t know what you were expecting it to taste like, but you definitely weren’t expecting it to be good.

“This is actually prett-” you can’t finish your sentence before you feel a pair of lips against yours, causing your eyes to go wide. After the shock factor dissolves, you quickly push him away, confusion written all over your face. “What the hell?”

He pulls back in confusion as well, his bushy eyebrows furrowing over his blue eyes. “Have I been reading you wrong? Are you not into me?” You have to resist the urge to slap him. Instead, you rapidly stand up, pointing a finger at him.

“Do you seriously have the audacity to ask me that? You keep me up at night with your piano playing, and then get mad when I try to help you. Then you get mad when I help you with your project. Then you insult me, talking about me behind my back, and you think that I like you? Why on earth would I be into you?” He knows you’re lying. He can tell by the way your chest raises up and down and pupils dilate. Chuckling, he stands up from his chair and steps in front of you with slight hesitation.

Grabbing a hold of your biceps, his blue eyes peer into yours. “I know you’re lying.” He doesn’t say another thing before he’s dipping his head down and pressing his lips against yours. You try to fight back, but deep down inside you can’t deny how right it feels. Giving in, your arms come up and wrap around his shoulders, anchoring him to you as you walk back until you’re pressed against a wall. It’s a minute before you break away, both of you gasping for air, his body heat radiating to you and it makes you nervous.

“We shouldn’t, we’re in public you know.” He scoffs and looks around the room, especially the dark windows and dark hallway.

“No one is here,” he replies as his hands drop to your hips, his thumbs brushing your skin underneath your shirt. “If it’s that much of a problem, we can go back to my place.” His offer has you pausing for a minute, but if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t mind getting down and dirty in the lab. Shrugging your shoulders, your hands push off his jacket as he lets it fall to the floor, his head slotted between your head and shoulder.

“I think I’m good here,” you can feel the smirk of his lips against your neck as his teeth drag across your skin, causing your eyes to flutter shut. Pulling you into him, you’re completely enveloped by his warmth as his hands creep lower, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other on your ass, fingers flexing as if he wants to do more but there’s still some hesitation. “Teller…”

“Edward, please.”

“Edward, you know you can touch me,” the confirmation is all he needs before he’s hoisting you into the air and carrying you over to a desk, placing you down and slotting himself between your legs. You watch as he breaks away from you, shoving down his suspenders and loosening his tie. Reaching between your bodies, you pop the buttons of your shirt off and chuck it to the floor, exposing your breasts which catch his attention. Wasting no time, his hands find themselves on your breasts, squeezing firmly, causing arousal to pool in between your legs. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a man. Working in the Rad Lab under Lawrence doesn’t really give you much of a life, let alone a love life, so just having another man touch you is really enough to send you spiraling. “Edward, I can’t wait,” you whine, your hands finding his belt as he lets out a huff of amusement.

“That impatient, hmm?” You nod your head in response, hopping down from the table to remove your skirt and underwear as he works on his slacks, pulling out his member with ease. Shoving his hand out of the way you take hold of his growing arousal and flick your wrist up and down in languid motions, causing him to let out a low moan. Despite the fact that your hand is jerking him off, it is odd to you to see the impersonal Edward Teller so vulnerable.

Deciding that enough was enough, Teller gently removes your hand and picks you up with ease, placing you down on the desk as he slots himself between your legs. “You ready?” Nodding your head, your heart races with anticipation. You can hear soft Hungarian coming from his lips as he guides the head of his shaft between your folds before slowly pushing in, him grunting softly and you squeezing your eyes shut, trying to relax your body as much as possible. “Are you okay?” His blue eyes peer down to yours as his thumbs softly run across your hips.

Swallowing down any pain, you nod your head, wiggling your hips as you stretch around him. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He hesitated but nodded his head, a strand of his dark hair falling on his forehead as he slowly moves in and out of you, his brows furrowed in concentration. After a minute of him holding himself back, pleasure starts replacing the pain and it has your toes curling. He feels.. just right, you think to yourself as your eyes find him as lust taking over. “You can go faster.” It’s all the instruction he needs before his pace picks up and it causes you to snort. Who would have thought that Teller can actually take direction?

“What’s so funny?” His voice stirs you back to the reality of him above you, hands digging into your hips and you don’t doubt that it will leave a bruise or two. Reaching up, you thread your hands through his soft hair and pull his face down to yours, your lips meeting halfway with his as the desk creaks underneath you. The already stiff room slowly starts to swelter as sweat begins to glisten both of your bodies. Breaking away from the kiss, Teller places his head between your shoulder and neck, biting down on your exposed flesh as he thrusts into you rapidly. Your legs wrap around his hips, bringing him in impossibly closer and it causes you to let out a loud moan and you can feel his lips twitch upward against your neck.

“That’s right, keep making sounds for me édesem.” You’re not really sure what he’s saying, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t turn you on, and he notices. Straightening his posture, he looks down at you with a smirk as his hips rock against yours. “Does me speaking Hungarian turn you on édesem?” You clench around him, accidentally proving your point and you cringe before he leans back over you, his member hitting a deeper angle that has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. “Micsoda mocskos lány.” He whispers against your ear, one hand reaching down between your bodies and finding your clit causing you to whine. “Alig várom, hogy elélvezz nekem.”

“Edward.” Your moan echoes in his ear as his fingers deftly rub your clit.

“Fogadok, hogy tetszik. Ugye, mocskos kislányom?” You hate to admit it, and you’ll probably deny it, but hearing him speak in his mother tongue has your orgasm nearing.

“Please,” you beg, your nails scratching against his back. “I need to cum.” Nodding his head, his hips shallowly grind against your, his dick dragging against your velvety walls as his fingers continue to rub your bundle of nerves.

“Cum nekem, Szerelmem. Cum for me,” the switch back to English sends you toppling over the edge and you clench around his member, your orgasm crashing through your body as he continues to thrust in and out of you despite his hips beginning to falter. “Bassza meg, olyan gyönyörű vagy.” He grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Where?”

“On me.” Nodding his head, he quickly pulls out with a moan and shoots his spend all over your stomach, his chest heaving up and down as his eyes flutter shut in relief for a second. After he comes down from his high he looks down at you with a smile.

“Olyan gyönyörű vagy alattam.” He grabs a couple of napkins from the bag and wipes your stomach as you prop yourself up on your arms, body glistening with sweat.

“What were you saying?” He smiles before helping you down from the table as the two of you start redressing.

“Nothing important, édesem. We should probably clean up,” he gestures to the floor around you littered with papers. When did they get knocked off?

“Huh, I don’t remember them falling off,” you comment, kneeling on the ground with shaky legs and picking up the papers, Teller helping you before a throat clears in the hallway, causing the both of you to look up.

“If you guys are going to fuck, please keep it out of the lab,” Oppenheimer comments, puffing his pipe before walking away causing you to tilt your head in shame and Teller to quickly stand up, his face beet red.

“You do this too! Seggfej!” The room falls quiet as tension grows between you and Teller stand awkwardly across from each other.

“So.”

“What did this mean?” You ask as you turn away, placing the papers back on the desk and fixing them, trying to avoid his gaze in case he rejects you.

Teller takes a step towards you as his hand cups your face and turns it to him. “It means that I like you. I know it doesn’t seem like that, but I do. You challenge me in a way that not alot of other people can do and I want that in my life. I want you in my life. If you want to be?” A smile graces your face as you nod your head.

“Yeah, I think I’ll like that.” Teller smiles in response, dropping his hand from your face and gathering his things.

“Good, would you like for me to accompany you home?”

“We’re heading the same way, so sure,” offering him a smile, you flip off the lights to the lab and take his hand in yours, “next time though, let’s do it somewhere else.”

#Edward teller x reader #Edward teller x female reader #Edward teller x you #Edward teller #benny safdie #Oppenheimer movie #oppenheimer #j Robert oppenheimer #Ernest lawrence #josh hartnett #Cillian murphy #reader insert #request #lacontroller1991

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rubyvroom · 11 months ago

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Oppenheimer certainly is a movie

So I did see this film and to its credit I am giving it some thought afterwards. There is a movie inside this movie that is actually pretty good; however, some Decisions were made that obscure this fact.

It is ultimately a Great Man film, and it stood a chance to do an interesting variation on the Great Man film where the Great Man is also the villain of the film. It actually feints at this in ways that I think are extremely interesting, but undermines it structurally in a way I think is detrimental to the film as a film, not to mention to the film as a moral argument.

The ending, for example, where Christopher Nolan just cannot help putting in a clever "oh the irony" moment to leave you wow'ed, as a Nolan-ism, but it is so transparently doing this that it makes you look back in annoyance at the previous 3 hours.

This invented conversation between Einstein and Oppenheimer Nolan just had to conceal from us earlier in the film to bring back at the last minute so that the viewer can think, oh wow! Of course that conversation was not what Strauss imagined it was at all, he was as a paranoid narcissist assuming they were talking about him rather than reciting the theme of the film out loud for us! It was all a misunderstanding! How tragic!

But why do that? Other than the wow, what is this scene accomplishing? What is this investigation/hearing structure that we spend much of the run-time of the film in accomplishing? It gives the film a structure that allows us to jump around in time, but what did we get out of this other than last minute reveals? Why did he make it this way?

Well, this is the way to have a film about J Robert Oppeheimer with a villian who is not J Robert Oppenheimer.

So you have Strauss in that role, and honestly, he is played so magnetically by Robert Downey Jr that it almost works. You basically go with it for 2 hours and 50 minutes or so. Because unlike the protagonist of this film he has agency. He is making decisions. He has convictions that he will explain and demonstrate. He's the character making the film go, more or less.

Oppenheimer does none of those things. He is a passive player in his own story. Which is a deliberate decision they made in order to absolve our protagonist of all sins. Especially if you look through all the contradictions to actual history.

In this movie Oppenheimer really doesn't wrestle with any moral quandries, he does not make difficult choices. The Manhattan Project is a task he is uniquely suited to, as he is to nothing else, as though he is forged for this and only this purpose. Oppenheimer is less an archer than an arrow loosed at the target of the Trinity Tests and left there quivering ever after. It's an inevitability. He does it because it's what he does, what he was always going to do. As a main character he's not so different from the Tenet protagonist in this way. Just like Tenet, this movie is a clockwork propelling the Great Man where he needs to be.

The film absolves Oppenheimer in this way, treating him as swept along by the forces of history rather than making moral decisions. And hell, maybe that's how it actually happened - humans frequently blunder into moral quagmires without planning to. We avoid thinking about the inconvenient truths and wrestling with cognitive dissonance all the time. On top of that, Oppenheimer himself gets a special dispensation for being a Scientist, with zippy quantum physics imagery flashing in his head all the time. How can we expect him to focus on the real world implications of his fancy science? [Let's ignore the fact that real world logistics is actually the thing he is accomplished in, as we see in the whole section where he designs the Los Alamos project. He didn't actually discover the principals of the bomb, or design the bomb himself. He's not Einstein. He's not even Niels Bohr. He's a project manager. An extremely good one! But let's ignore that, the movie wants us to think flashy Science Visions when we think of Oppie, so okay.]

We try with a few briefly shown newspaper covers to assign a motive to the man's drive, and not much more than that. His Jewish identity gets some lip service, without much conviction or, y'know, actual onscreen depiction. The Nazis remain a distant abstraction, less immediate than the lurking communists at every corner. Watch out for the commies, Oppie! They're the ones actually on his street corner, while Nazis are only represented as a couple headlines. Obviously none of those things really matter. In the end he builds the bomb because he can, because he can do it faster than anyone else and pretty much instantaneously upon realizing it's possible he is mentally committed to the task. It is his destiny and his terrible duty. It has to be him. He is a homing missile. A bomb.

THAT movie is interesting, actually.

I find that part of the movie weirdly compelling, and if they had leaned into that angle I feel like it could have been a great film? If they had only mentioned a few more similar incidents to the cyanide apple, played out his violent tendencies, and contrasted to a genuine love of science -- and what exactly does he love about it, really? -- where does that get us? What does it say about scientists and "progress"? What is the consequence of this race to be first to do the next thing, regardless of what the result of that thing will be? How does power use people like that? What does it do with them afterwards?

But most of this movie is not that.

Most of this movie is Oppenheimer being unfairly persecuted for being friends with communists, which is presented as an example of scientist as a naive babe in the woods rather than the savvy political operator he actually was in real life. And if you are not pearl-clutching at the thought of talking to commies, this entire plot thread feels incredibly overblown. It's so much of that three hours, you guys. So much. Oppie can't get his security clearance, Oppie is losing his security clearance, wow that's so unfair, and any sense of urgency of what he actually needs this clearance FOR ten years after the war is really underbaked. And honestly whenever they jettison that theme and cover literally anything else, the film comes back to life again -- the Los Alamos/Trinity section in the middle is gripping, his Girlfriend 1 and Girlfriend 2 show actual signs of life in the brief crumbs of onscreen time they are given -- but it's so vastly outnumbered by the time spent in board rooms and congressional hearings as to barely matter.

The purpose of which? The real thesis of this movie, which is that J Robert Oppenheimer was ultimately too naive to understand that the bomb he was making would be used to bomb somebody.

And the nation, represented by Robert Downey Jr (lol) is happy to discard him afterwards. Like I get that's the theme we're working with here. But the movie is none too interested in looking more closely at the why and the how of that discard; Oppenheimer's actual actions after the war are largely elided, as are Strauss's. No context. Oppenheimer's actual political convictions are murky. That would give him agency, you see, and the movie wants a passive martyr (and uses that word incessantly to boot). So our villian is Strauss, an ambitious and vindictive man, in opposition to our pure scientist Oppenheimer, who spent most of his career in Washington while somehow lacking any ambition or political opinions at all.

Really, did we need this movie? Yes, it's nice to have adult films with people talking and not punching. The craft is there. It's well made and well-acted, to varying degrees. I like looking at Cillian Murphy's face, and Nolan leans on that smartly. It's most vital sequence (the trinity test) is very good, and so is the scene where he hallucinates the cheering audience after the Hiroshima bombing melting in a radioactive flash.

But honestly? When your key sequence was mic-dropped by David Lynch six years ago, did we need this? What for? Can we have a real discussion now about Hiroshima and Nagasaki? That's the one real utility of this film and one we really have not seen come to fruition. Imagine a version of this film where that conversation between Einstein and Oppenheimer is not a gotcha but a catalyst for a real, raw and jaw-dropping look at how the world was warped by The Bomb. I guess for that we have to go to someone like David Lynch, and not Christopher Nolan.

#rubyvroom watches movies #oppenheimer #film #oscars #inb4 Oscars Discourse and now I can ignore it hooray #I did not read anything about this movie because I avoid film bros as much as possible

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