#filled with overwhelming love for humanity and especially the part of it that is directly adjacent to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cartierbin · 4 years ago

Note

pls could you do a dilf!minho smut? haha your dilf ones are so good

ofc baby. tysm.

『 pairing — minho x reader

genre — smut, + dilf!minho but sex therapist type shit

word count — 1.532k 』

smut under the cut !

“I don’t know what it is to be quite honest with you”. you muttered, fiddling your fingers and hastily checking the clock every five minutes. it could’ve been any minute until your husband came home, and you knew he was going to ask you where you were. the last thing you wanted to say was that you were out in the late hours of the night, seeking help from your therapist. especially your sex therapist.

dr. lee minho shifts a little his seat, his muscular yet lean body complimented his grey suit perfectly, and his circular lenses made him look that much more enticing. his jet black hair was parted to the left without flaw. your therapist was sexy and he knew it. and most importantly you knew it. It was hard to believe this was a man with three children. he glides his tongue over the span of his parched lips and continued scribbling in his notes. when his eyes focused back on you they were serious. for some reason whenever he gazed at you it almost looked as if he was reading you, like he was prepared to tell you your future out of a crystal ball. he held knowledge and wisdom in his eyes even if he didn’t say much of anything. “what you have to understand is that communication in the bedroom is really essential. if you and your partner are not communicating then you will never get what you need”. he always talked with his hands too, he was confident with every word and it’s clear that he knew what he was talking about. and if he wasn’t he was for damn sure good at hiding his uncertainty. “that’s the thing I don’t know where to start. I ask him if he wants to try new things but he turns all of my ideas down and I’m not sure what to do anymore. I’m afraid if this continues I don’t think this relationship would last. does that sound childish of me? shifting away from him because of the sex?”.

“baby what I need you to do first is stop tearing yourself down with this. don’t invalidate your feelings. sex in a relationship is just as important as everything else and we’re only humans, we have needs. and we want our partners to be able to meet them. I think your dilemma is stemming from the fact that you think you’re being too pushy if you ask for more. and you need to stop that”. it wasn’t until you started coming to his sessions where you realized someone could talk in such a demanding tone but yet so loving. he never spoke as if he knew it all even though he did, but he spoke as if he sincerely loved you and only wanted the best for you. you nod at his response taking heed to his advice. he continues, “and once you stop that you’ll be able to ask without that weighty feeling on your shoulders”. you nod yet again, all of a sudden feeling kind of fidgety and anxious. “so where do I began?”. he places his notepad on the table beside him and stands to his feet, ushering you over with a hand. when you stood up you were fairly intimidated by his austere demeanor. you knew he was probably a playful man outside of the office but in it, he was much different. he guided you to the long mirror between two potted plants, making you stand right in front of him. you practically shuddered once you gazed right past your reflection and directly at his while he was standing directly behind you.

“loosen up a little. we’re going to do an exercise”. you nod, “what is it?”. he licks his lips again and makes a ponytail out of your hair, bringing it all behind your shoulders so you could get a clear view of yourself. you grew hot in the face from his gestures. “I’m going to be your husband. and you’re going to look into this mirror and tell me what you want more of. no matter what is it I’ll have to listen to you. this will help you gain confidence in yourself so when it happens in real time you’ll be prepared and not embarrassed when you hear yourself”. your heart steadily pounded at his request. you kindly obliged to his orders. “before we start I’d like to know if it’s okay to touch you?”. you agreed to that request as well, not really caring where and how. you weren’t prepared for him to immediately attached his lips to your neck, peppering specks of kisses along the coast of your shoulders. his lips were so gentle and heedful, kind of like the way he spoke. you stood there for a while tensed, not knowing what to do and being absolutely frozen on the tingling feelings his lips left you with. he spoke into his next kiss, “go on, tell me what you want”. your eyes fell to his veiny calloused hands and you couldn’t believe what you were about to say but you had to say it. it was apart of the exercise after all. “I want you to touch me”. you admitted weakly, your voice going hoarse between syllables. you were nervous and you didn’t know what to expect. his mouth moved further up your neck and you could see his arm slither around your waist to the front button of your jeans, undoing them and zipping down your zipper. you stopped breathing completely once he crammed his hand inside the front of your panties.

“stop sounding like that. control your voice”. he demanded, you gulped hard and twitched when you felt his fingertips rub the surface of your already moistened folds. “rub my clit please”. you sort of whined. he followed suit, circling it around lazily. your heart was throbbing in your ears. he wasn’t even doing much and it felt fucking good. you drew in a sharp breath, realizing that watching yourself get touched in a mirror was ten times hotter than you thought it would be. he swivels his head over to the other side of your neck, catching abandoned spots of skin in between his lips to suck. “this is all you want baby?”. he spoke in a tone so dark you wanted to just fall to your knees. you were already starting to throb at his gestures. “can you rub it faster please?”. you stutter, mentally cursing at yourself for doing so and being oblivious to the fact that minho thought it was kind of sexy. he does so. “don’t leave it at that. tell me how wet you are. tell me what your pussy feels like”. he could feel his fingers becoming slippery with your slick, it was getting harder and harder to rub you. It turned him on but it was only obvious, you felt his bulge poking you from behind. you breathed, “my pussy is throbbing so hard I’m getting so wet-“. he languidly tongue kisses your jawline and an overwhelming wave washed over your body. “mm what do you need?”. electricity courses through your torso. it was hot the way his mouth moved passionately against your skin as if he’s known it for years. “I need you to stick your fingers inside me please”. with no hesitation he sunk his fingers into your hole going a bit deeper than he intended, but nonetheless proud of himself for making you arch your back against him. he could feel your slick sliding down his knuckles. “shit”. he unexpectedly groans, revealing to you how much he actually enjoyed this.

you shut your eyes tight while his fingers delve inside you steadily and pulled out at a measured pace. you began to whine and rub your ass against him in the process. “open your eyes for me. I want you to see yourself”. his voice made you want to collapse and his fingers moved so smoothly inside you you were starting think that he went to school for this. they were magic in between your legs and you didn’t want him to stop. your eyes fluttered open, one after the other and your mouth hung open. “tell me how it feels”. by now his lips was so close to your mouth you just wanted him to kiss you already. it was a tease the way his mouth ran over everything but your lips. but it was hard to ask for that when you were prompted with another question. you could barely think with him touching you like this. “it feels— it feels so fucking good oh my god”. the whimper in your eyes is what drove him insane. you looked so needy and burdened with want he wondered how and why your husband wasn’t doing this to you already. your thighs were threatened to clasp around his wrist, you didn’t know if you could take much more. his other hand snakes up your shirt and grasps your naked breasts, massaging one and pulling and tugging on your nipples. the feelings were foreign, your husband usually filled one night with one of these motions. It was never everything happening all at once like this. your pants became quicker, “faster”. you hummed, becoming more confident with your demands. you watched the outline of his fingers in your panties hastening their pace, finger fucking you at an intensity that had you reaching back just to clutch the fabric on his shoulder. you could wrap your mind around how perfect and skilled he was at doing this, well you couldn’t wrap your mind around anything for that matters. your head falls back into the crook of his neck and you reached down the grip his moving wrist. “fuck I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum so hard”. he sticks his tongue in your mouth and performs the hottest kiss you’ve ever felt in your married life. “yes keep talking like that”. he exhales sounding just as winded and breathless as you were. “I don’t think I can take it please my pussy is throbbing too hard”. you whine at the top of your lungs feeling his fingers deeper inside you. you could feel the palm of his hand rubbing your ass a little. “there you go, cum down my fingers”. he demands licking and sucking the skin of your neck until your eyes rolled to the back of your head in a mind blowing orgasm.

you were still bucking inside his hand as he rubbed all of the aftershocks right out of you, enjoying how much you were cumming especially since it was the first time you’ve came like that in years. you were limp and weak, and you just knew that your husband probably already texted you about twenty times trying to figure out where you were but you didn’t care. minho sneaks kisses to your hot earlobe. “from a professional standpoint I’m proud of you for speaking up for what you wanted. but aside from me being your therapist that was so fucking sexy”.

#Minho smut #lee Minho smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines

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levicanpunchme · 4 years ago

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AAAAAA I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCHHHH SYEGHQYEHW can i request something where the reader tries to persuade levi to take a break from his paperwork?? aaaaaaa i literally love u some much jagduwyshdsj thank you<3333

AAAAAA, I LOVE YOUUUUU 🙈 thank you so much for the kind words 🥺 I’m sorry this took a while but it’s finally here~! And thank you for requesting babe <333

——————————————————————

Levi X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Fluff/Angst

Sharing Your Exhaustion

The hallways were eerily quiet, presumably because the members were drained off after hectic training; they couldn’t help jump into their dreams before they had to head back for more painful training. You took nimble steps towards the captain’s room and rushed to open the door, knots forming in your stomach in bustling excitement. Yesterday, Levi was so busy with paperwork, you had chose not to visit him, not wanting to disturb him. There were days when you had to ignore your feelings because you were in a relationship with none other than Captain Levi, the strongest solider who shouldered the burden of humanity’s right to existence.

As you stepped in, you realised the room was lighted up, which was foreign because by this time, Levi would be waiting for you in bed with lights off. Your gaze sauntered from the empty bed to the wooden desk next to the window and caught sight of your raven haired boyfriend, seated before his desk with a pencil in his grip as he sharply wrote something down. You frowned, staring at the clock for reconfirmation.

It was one am. By this time, Levi would have tidied up his messy desk, taken a shower and waited for you to come over-sometimes even making personal trips to your room to get you.

You lightly shut the door behind you, taking light steps towards your hardworking boyfriend. Despite making zero to no sound, you caught his attention immediately as if he sensed you around; his bleak eyes seemed to warm up like the moonlight, his thin lips morphing into a tiring smile.

“How was training?” His gentle voice already calmed your nerves. “Tiring,” you muttered with a generous smile and made your way to his chair.

“Tch, don’t work so hard, brat,” he gruffly muttered, his voice etched with concern.

Nearing him, you noticed the blue lines of fatigue on his pale skin carved under his eyes, his forehead creased from tension, posture seemingly uncomfortable with his back positioned away from the chair, probably from leaning down to observe papers. An awful feeling arose in the pit of your stomach. Your judgment stood corrected as you observed the stack of parchments bundled on the side of his table. Just looking at it gave you a headache.

You instinctively stepped closer behind his chair and snaked your arms around his neck tightly, recompensing for the time away from him. The smell of him on the shirt you were wearing was nothing compared to his actual embrace. The shower you had taken before had helped your nerves ease after practise but Levi’s embrace completely sucked every last drop of ache out of your body.

A breathy sigh escaped his mouth as he eased into your hold, his breathing calm against your frame. For a moment, it was only you and Levi in your own bubble; nothing else existed. Two aching souls finding peace in one another. And then a moment later, the bubble bursted.

“Y/n, turn the lights off and get some sleep. I’ll need to stay working,” he put his hand over yours which were resting on his chest and nudged his head against yours, encouraging you to go to bed.

You frowned, your chest tightening.

Ever since the commander’s announcement for a new mission outside the walls, the workload was piquing- especially for the captains. The pile of documents needing Levi’s attention were still toppling his desk and he hadn’t even moved an inch from the worktable since before yesterday night. You didn’t see him at practise, lunch, dinner or even in the meeting with Hange. He seemed to have disconnected entirely from human interaction, determined to get his work done.

“Levi, you’ve been here since the whole day,” you muttered, expressing your discern with a frown. Your arms only grew tighter around him worriedly.

He shook his head, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “It’ll take me one more night and I’ll be done.” You peeled yourself away from him and stared at the man with desperation. You had come to a realisation that Levi coped in different ways in tense times. When the atmosphere became grim, he spent days drowning himself with papers and refused to take breaks- as if he was punishing himself. Even when he came back from expeditions, you wouldn’t see his face until a week after. He stared at words for so long that they probably haunted him.

“Levi, you’re overworking yourself to the bone. You need sleep,” you argued, scowling at the lack of concern in his narrow eyes.

“I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry. Now, go and get some sleep. You must be exhausted,” his words were stern, commanding you and his gaze indifferent, holding no room for debate. His eyes remained cold but you could tell he felt apologetic as he softly caressed your cheek with his palm, stroking them. He limply smiled, then nodded at you and motioned towards the bed, implying you leave him alone.

You stared at him distraught. How could Levi expect you to turn away and conveniently slip into bed while his red-rimmed eyes were starving for rest as he pushed himself more and more? Again an unsettling feeling arose in your chest; even his fingers were inflamed from gripping the pencil for too long; he rubbed the back of his neck occasionally which meant he had been craning it for too long to read the goddamn papers.

Your fists clenched in despair as you bit back the curses you wanting to ensue; dating a workaholic man with zero awareness was a pain in the ass. You sighed sympathetically at the man you loved and then stepped closer to the desk, in front of him. You grabbed one large pile of his documents and brought them with you to the bed.

“Hey-hey! What’re you doing?” He immediately sprung out of his chair, and it made you want to cackle because it was probably the first time his leg muscles contracted since he sat down with these documents on that damned chair.

“I’ll help,” you explained as you sat cross legged on the cold sheets of his bed, picking up the first stapled document.

“No,” he rasped. “You are doing no such thing. Get to bed, right now,” it wasn’t a suggestion but a chilling command; Levi’s tone was dangerously low, making your stomach knot up with nervousness.

You glanced up and regretted it immediately because it magnified your anxiety: his misty eyes were staring down at you scornfully, burning your skin; his chest heaved impatiently and his fists were clenched like he would pounce at you any second.

“Levi—“

“Every-fucking-one is beaten after today’s practise, I know that. Just because I wasn’t there, it doesn’t mean I don’t know shit. Hange informed me about your pathetically long training,” Levi’s voice was oddly rough but the coldness in his eyes melted. His face was scrunched in distress.

You loved this man so much with every part of you. How could he be worrying over you when he was literally starving and sleepless from the work pressure? Your nose burned, and you felt your eyes welling up, with overwhelming emotions, but you didn’t let him see that or he’d lose his sanity and flip the world over to know exactly the reason behind your tears.

You stepped out of the bed and walked close to him, edging to him until his nose was brushing yours conveniently since you both were the same height. At close proximity, his almond shaped eyes were tired-red and sully but there was also a strange glint of warmth in the dull grey clouds, reflecting the effect you have on him. His breathing was unsteady as he stared directly at you.

“If you’re too exhausted, we can share the exhaustion just like we share love, Levi,” you whispered, your lips meeting the corner of his mouth and landing it with a kiss. Jitters ran down his spine and his mouth tingled.

We can share exhaustion just like we share love. The words reverberated again and again in his head, tugging at the strings of his heart. At that moment, he wished to throw you into his bed and kiss your exhaustion away. He forcefully stepped back, his insides twisting in misery, desperate to have his way with you. You were always so understanding. Levi could never wrap his head around how you were so transparent and loving. You stood by him in miserable times, struggling to heal his endless wounds. Your selflessness ate at him because in this big, relentless world, he only wanted you to be selfish.

“I’ll arrange these documents, so you’ll know which ones merely require signatures and which need proper attention. It’ll decrease your workload and reading time to a great extent.” You were already on the bed, reading through the document with vitality.

He surveyed you for a moment, his heart drumming faster against his chest. “Come on, get going. We have a lot to do.” Levi timorously stepped back, watching you.

You already got to work and started assessing papers and reading through files. You almost threw in the towel by your fifth document but continued working, determined to help him. You mentally praised Levi’s great work ethics, his neat textura script making you smile.

Levi, on the other hand, stood frozen in his tracks; his chest felt strange as he watched you work on his documents. No one had ever done this-not that he ever wanted it. Hell, he was the strongest, most independent man, who never let his guard down which is primarily the reason why people didn’t bother with him. He alone equated to the strength of a thousand army of titans. He created this headstrong image for the world, Levi Ackerman, the hope of humanity, as he filled in gaps of weaknesses left in his trails.

Why did you see him? You knew he could take it, then why didn’t you let him be, like everyone else? Why did you want to shoulder his burdens by sacrificing your peace?

His head began pounding.

Before he saw you today, he was perfectly fine with his negligent ways: he didn’t feel his stomach rumbling from emptiness, his mouth as dry as the desert, his back aching from distress or his eyes stinging from sleeplessness. Now, when he saw you rubbing your red eyes, squinting them to read the documents and massaging your template in soft circles, he recovered his sanity.

As if he regained his humanity, his body which was numb from the moment he sat with those papers, collapsed into a surge of emotions.

He couldn’t bear it.

He treated himself inhumanely. But not you. God no, never you. You didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t treat you the way he treated himself. He’d rather throw himself off a cliff than give you a taste of his pain. Feeling overwhelmed, his vision blurred as he took heavy steps towards you. You looked up from the paper, hearing him moving towards you and your breath ceased.

Silver eyes were shadowy with a thunderous wave of agony, and a deploring frown weighted down his lips as his steps faltered towards you. You immediately stood up, your hackles rising in concern. You had never seen Levi look so defeated and beaten— not even when he came back from outside the walls. Your stomach twisted in despair. Maybe you had hurt him in your attempts to stick beside him. You felt tears choking your vision as you waited for him to throw you out of his room.

He was an inch away when his body fell against you, a squeal leaving your mouth. His arms were clasping around your waist as he pushed his weight down, causing your knees to buckle against the bed and you both fell. He was on top of you, his body completely attached to you like he were a part of you. Your heartbeat escalated as Levi looked at you, his red eyes drunk with exhaustion staring into the depth of your orbs.

Inside your dark eyes, he only saw himself. Only himself. His breathing hardened, mouth watering at the sight. He couldn’t take it anymore, his love for you triumphing over the last shred of common sense left in his brain. Drained and disillusioned, he found solace within you.

He attacked your mouth like a starved beast, every ounce of his being wanting you to feel the love bustling in his veins. Your toes curled in pleasure, the warmth of his mouth creating an euphoric sense of stability in your soul. You gripped his hair softly, running your fingers through his scalp and his eyes screwed shut in comfort. His lips kissed to your jawline and in the crevice of your neck, trailing downwards, marking your skin as his.

Your moans and his heavy breaths filled up the silence in the room.

“I love you,” he whispered and you swear you felt a wet droplet fall against your skin. Your stomach clenched; It was his first time telling you he loved you. You tried saying it back but no words left your mouth, just a stream of sobs.

Before, you felt him love you through his own unintentional ways but nothing could counter these three words falling off his lips just for you.

And then he rustled against the sheets, laying beside you and pulled you on top of him, your head resting against his chest. His heartbeat vibrating against your frame caused your tense body to ease in his hold. The documents sat on the edge of the bed, neglected. Soon slumber overpowered both Levi and your senses. Even though you both had to wake up within the next-six-hours, It was the best damn sleep Levi had ever gotten.

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reneg661 · 2 years ago

Photo

Is the main protagonist of the Rambo film series and David Morell's novel First Blood. A former Vietnam veteran and highly skilled Green Beret, Rambo returned from the war as a decorated, but disturbed hero. He is filled with self-loathing and hates killing, but is willing to use his skills to protect those close to him. This is the general plot line of the four First Blood sequels. The main character of the series, Rambo appears in all the films. The only character to come close to this is Sam Trautman, his mentor and commander in Vietnam. Although Rambo appears to be a butch action stereotype, the character of John Rambo is actually a broken and emotional man. He has witnessed all of his friends die, was not loved as a child, faced unbearable terrors in Vietnam, returned to a country that rejected him, then was seduced back into combat where he killed hundreds more people before finally being left alone and miserable, unable to forgive himself for what he has done. At one point, Rambo stated that he had wasted his life fighting for things he thought he believed in. By the end of the series, Rambo hates himself and has lost his faith in humanity, God and the concept that things will get better for the world, due in no small part because of the horrors of war he experienced. Rambo did get better at the end of the series when he returned home, but he is no doubt plagued by nightmares from his post-traumatic stress disorder. The character has more emotional depth than most people would think based on what popular culture has depicted Rambo as, and Sylvester Stallone's performance has been widely acclaimed. The character was nominated for American Film Institute's list 100 Years… 100 Heroes and Villains. Rambo's covert missions behind enemy lines were also quite accurate to real Vietnamese War tactics. The way the character fights, is in some details (such as weapons and modus operandi) based on soldiers that fought anti-guerrilla warfare during the Vietnam war.Throughout the film series, especially in the first and fourth films, John Rambo is displayed as a tragic hero, who suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder and has difficulty adjusting to civilian life, which is especially complicated because of prejudice against returning soldiers. He is shown to be prone to violence because of the torture he suffered at the hands of North Vietnamese soldiers in the Vietnam War. Rambo has difficulty talking about his problems and he is too scarred from trauma to open up to most people. The only person he really trusts in the world is Trautman, and he still has only told him about one of the brutal deaths he witnessed. This makes Rambo look like a quiet thug or super soldier to people who don't understand the character, but in reality he is so overwhelmed with self-hatred and nightmarish memories that he can't talk to anybody. As a result, conversations with Rambo are fairly one sided, as he chooses not to engage with most people and only speaks directly to a few people. As he grows older, as he becomes bitter and angry at the world, even leading to him casually swearing and making snide comments under his breath at people, and downright insulting people. This is especially elaborated upon in 2008's Rambo, where he refuses to be even remotely social with anybody, even Sarah Miller, who is displayed as a kind soul who wants to learn about Rambo's life and why he is the way he is. He often replies with one-word answers in this film and is terse with people so they will leave him alone. There is a scene, where Michael Burnett tries to get Rambo to take them down the Salween River. Rambo declines and Sarah asks, why he rebuffed the man he was talking to. Rambo replies that he wasn't talking to anybody and Sarah changes her statement to "the man who was talking to you". It is evident that Rambo did care deeply for all the men in his unit, forming a brotherly bond with them. This is shown at the start of First Blood, when Rambo arrives as the home of Delmar Barry, he walks with a bit of a spring to his step, he is very polite and talkative to Barry's mother, making small talk and even cracking a joke. It's one of the few times he's seen to smile, being visibly excited at the prospect of seeing his old friend again. However, upon learning of Barry's death, Rambo is disheartened, offering the photo of his unit that he carries around to Barry's mother before giving his condolences and leaving, his walk having slowed to a trudge as he departs. During his breakdown to Trautman, he talked about how they had planned to go on a road trip to Las Vegas in Danforth's Chevy Convertible. In Rambo III, Rambo is seen wisecracking one-liners similar to other action heros such as John Matrix from Commando. He cracks several of these, poking fun of the state he and Trautman are in and the predicaments he has gotten himself into. Most fans of the Rambo series aknowledge that Rambo III was more so made to exploit Rambo's character rather than further develop him. This would explain the cheesy one-liners that were typical of other heroes of the time, but not Rambo. It could be argued, though, that Rambo's demeanor was considerably softer since Rambo III dealt with Rambo's only friend who he has known since Baker Team. Since Trautman could talk with Rambo about anything, Rambo would be a much happier man around him. However, even in Rambo III, Stallone carefully maintains the tortured persona that Rambo has to deal with, rarely cracking a smile and revealing the sad eyes he must have. It has been argued that Rambo became more antisocial and angry at the world after Trautman died in between the events of Rambo III and Rambo. In the next films and novelizations, he is displayed as a man who wants to stay away from conflict but is willing to do literally anything to save his friends and the people he cares about from any danger. Due to his violent nature, many civil people tend to fear him. However, Colonel Samuel Trautman, who was his commanding officer in Vietnam and most likely his only friend, understands him and the pain and torture he had endured in the war and is the only one able to understand the problems he has. Rambo is a survival expert in almost any terrain, especially in jungles and dense forests. Rambo is also an expert in guerrilla warfare, and he is easily able to camouflage himself, create improvised weaponry, and nurse his own wounds. He is also an expert in operating various types of war machines like helicopters and tanks, firing artillery and machine guns and hand-to-hand combat. In the movies, Rambo is portrayed by Sylvester Stallone.

John Rambo (c) Rambo Art (c) reneg661

#john rambo

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transgenderer · 3 years ago

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pls talk more about TNC! I read it because of you and loved it, and you have been interesting takes about fiction

okay so theres other stuff going on with like the nature of the early internet and the social norms there and how it gets misinterpreted and all that, but to me TNC is *about* mundum, so let's talk about mundum!

mundum is a lot of things! mundum is certain kind of religions, obviously, its the belief that god has rules/goals you must follow, and those rules are bigger than desire, that your work is never, god always wants more from you, youll never be a saint and yet you *must* be a saint. so far so simple.

but mundum is also guilt, guilt especially in the modern world, guilt borne of the sort of power/helplessness mix that characterizes modern life, that you can see people accomplishing great things and so youre acutely aware you COULD be achieving those things, and so you MUST be achieving those things, and that these things are grand and immense and everything (awareness of the location of things, and the fact you can change them!).

mundum is the infinity you put on the other end of the scale which outweighs everything down here in reality, mundum is the endless future of immortal posthumans you have to create (please the sky!).

mundum is the depressive mind that yearns and yet feels that everything is terrible forever, that things must be better and yet things could not even hypotheticaly, theoretically be better. that feels it has seen the truth, seen behind the curtain that everyone has willingly left in place out of fear of the truth, that recognizes any positive belief is just motivated reasoning and only the worst thing you can imagine can be trusted, that everyone living their happy lives are blind idiots and yet the truth doesnt *matter* because nothing matters except the logic by which you can judge yourself shit (THE WHOLE BLEAK ENDLESS WORLD)

mundum is obsession-compulsion, its the intense feeling that something is WRONG and if you only do the right inscrutable thing the wrongness will go away for a second and you can get some relief, its the overwhelming feeling that meaningless details are of the utmost importance, that the rhododendron leaves must be arranged just right

mundum is delusion, is direct-revlation, the feeling that god is beaming something directly into your brain, and it fills you up with light, makes you understand that the world is bigger than it seems, and obeys not the low logic of the world, but something great and terrible, something immense, something which only you know but maybe you can find someone else and maybe theyll see too and you wont be alone, for a moment itll be you two together and not you alone trying to express the fire in your head.

but the point, what it gestures at by being all these things, is that theres another thing, a thing we dont have words for (except we do now, mundum) that is all of these things, not in their entirety, these arent synonyms, but which every one of these things expresses, some fundamental human mindset

and the deaths tell you "okay, what if you didnt externalize it, what if it wasnt something exterior and crazy and alien and meaningless, what if it was something that was real and true and undeniable and awful and part of you and part of the fabric of the world. take a second and imagine that. what do you do next? what do you feel?"

#when i started this i was like 'hmm i dont hav e much to say'#apparently i have more to say than i thought

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wallgirl · 3 years ago

Text

The Little Nereid Part 12

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,200

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful. Loving someone like Poseidon is not easy period, let alone as your first love. But Dynamene is young and naïve, and all she wants is a chance to be at the sea god’s side.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Updated regularly; will have about 18 parts total.

—

It was still dark out when Dynamene arrived at the temple. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, the ocean calm. Still soaking wet from head to toe, she left puddles of water with each trudge up the sizable hill where the temple overlooked the sea. She had never been to a human temple before. It was less grand than she had imagined, though still tall and stately. It was impressive as far as human architecture went, she supposed.

She entered hesitantly, feeling almost embarrassed to be tracking water into a sacred, if humble, place. In the room at the center of the temple stood Aphrodite's cult image. It was roughly life-sized and hewn from wood, with a delicate cloth draping it modestly. Dynamene suppressed a smile when she saw it; it was much less curvaceous and delicate looking than the real goddess. She approached it gingerly, not sure what to do next.

Most humans that came to temples to ask something of the gods brought an offering, she knew, but she hadn't the faintest idea what to present. She was entirely empty-handed, save for the thin chiton she wore and her treasured bracelet, neither of which she was about to part with.

After a few minutes of pondering, the answer came to her - Aphrodite was the goddess of beauty, too, not just love. Dynamene's hands went to her two braids. Would she accept her hair as an offering...? Surely there was little more a woman could give in way of sacrificing her beauty.

She picked up a sharp seashell from the altar and aligned it with the base of the first braid, against her neck, and took a deep breath. Her hair had been long her whole life, but it would grow back, right?

Before she could even make the first cut, there was a deafening clap, and she was surrounded by white light.

When the light cleared, she was no longer standing in the dim inner room of the temple. A strange burning sensation lingered on her skin before quickly subsiding. Dynamene hesitantly lifted her head.

She was in a vast room with golden floors and roses of every color climbing the frescoed walls. A giant fountain, several times her height, stood ahead to her right. It bubbled and gurgled merrily, the white foam so bright that she could hardly look at it. A handful of small cherubs tended to bunches of pristine lilies that floated serenely in the bottom pool. And to her left, reclining on a golden couch inlaid with diamonds and pearls, was a statuesque woman with golden waves and wide eyes.

"My, you weren't really going to cut your hair, were you?" Aphrodite cried, staring at Dynamene with alarm. "I may be the goddess of love as well as beauty, but I'll let you in on a secret - no woman should sacrifice her looks for a man."

Dynamene immediately turned red. "I... I apologize." She tucked the shell away awkwardly into the fold of her chiton. "Um, where am I?"

"You're at my palace, on Mount Olympus," Aphrodite proclaimed. She smiled at Dynamene and tilted her head. "I've been waiting so long to speak with you. Come, sit!"

Mount Olympus?! Dynamene had been here before on a few occasions to accompany Poseidon as part of his court, but only to the common grounds. Each of the twelve Olympians had their own estate and palace that they designed and furnished to their liking, most filled with opulence and treasure that lesser beings could barely dream of. To think that she should now find herself in one was incredible.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers. A couch that matched her own appeared next to Dynamene, as well as a table with cups and a jug of some mysterious liquid. "You must be famished. You've had quite the journey; sit, sit!"

How could she know that? Dynamene settled nervously onto the couch and smoothed the bottom of her dress. She was all too aware of how bedraggled she must look, especially in such an exquisite place. The upholstery became dotted with dark spots of water from her damp hair.

Aphrodite snapped her fingers, and Dynamene's clothes and hair dried in an instant. "There we are. More comfortable?"

"Um, yes, thank you." Dynamene touched the bottom of her braid in amazement. The jug on the table before her poured itself into her cup, and she brought it to her mouth with both hands. Something incredibly sweet and steaming hot flowed into her lips.

"That's nectar. Careful you don't drink too much, it'll cause indigestion. Now then, you've called upon me for help," Aphrodite beamed and moved upright, crossing her legs. "I'm overjoyed, to say the least." She rested her chin elegantly on the thumb and pointer finger of one hand.

"You are?" Dynamene felt completely lost.

"Yes! I've been following your adventure ever since things began to really heat up a few weeks ago. Your birthday, to be precise. How exciting! I haven't seen a love story this gripping in centuries."

Dynamene almost dropped her cup. "Following me?! Do you mean you've seen everything that's happened since then?"

"Well, the juicy bits, yes. As the goddess of love, I can tune in on any love affair or infatuation I desire. Most are a bit boring, nowadays. But you... Your feelings for Poseidon... It's such a delight! What a turn of events! I'm quite invested." Aphrodite giggled.

Dynamene's face continued to burn red. "I... I don't understand."

Aphrodite sighed and leaned back once more. "Ah, Poseidon... such an enigma. Such a tall, dark, and handsome man... Such an incredible body... But such a wretched personality."

Dynamene flinched.

"He really is a delight to look at, though, isn't he?" Aphrodite sighed, her gaze turning dreamy. "There was a time when I thought I might add him to my body count... But his stifling demeanor quickly dispersed that idea from my head. Such a foul attitude."

Dynamene felt a different kind of heat rise up from her neck to her ears, and her gaze narrowed before she could hide her feelings. Aphrodite laughed in response.

"Oh, don't worry! I'd never touch him now; such a cold fish. Not the type to be a considerate lover, at any rate. An ice statue of a man," she scoffed. Her gaze moved back to Dynamene with curiosity. "But you love him anyway!" Aphrodite leaned forward once more, her eyes wide.

Dynamene stared at her lap, completely overwhelmed. "I... I do." Her voice sounded so small, even to herself.

"Tell me about it! How did it happen? What was it that made you fall for him? I want to know everything!"

"Um..." Dynamene swallowed hard. She could see him clearly in her mind's eye; that piercing gaze and chiseled body. She remembered the way his body had shadowed hers in the dark on the beach. What was it...

Aphrodite smirked, as if she knew exactly what Dynamene was thinking. "Yes, handsome, that much is a give-in. But what else? There has to be something drawing you to him."

"Well..." Dynamene racked her brain. "He's incredibly powerful, and smart. He knows his realm so well..."

"That's a start, I suppose," Aphrodite clicked her tongue. "But men like that are a dime-a-dozen. And that won't keep you warm at night."

"What?" Although Dynamene had no idea what she was getting at, she had the feeling it was something rather uncouth.

"Oh, I apologize. You're a virgin, right? You're inexperienced in these matters." Aphrodite took a dainty sip from her own cup. "Those qualities are all nice and fine, but there's nothing romantic or passionate about them. Not things that really light the flame of love, as it were."

Dynamene was silent for a moment, staring at her hands. She thought of the way he'd spoken with her on the beach, and the way he'd gone out of his way to show her the wonderful things he saw underwater. "He shared his power with me... He used it to show me all the things he could sense in the ocean. It was amazing, and so nice. He held my hand... and I didn't want him to let go."

"So that's it!" Aphrodite said triumphantly. "He made you feel special. He gave you a glimpse of something he's never shown anyone else."

Dynamene smiled wistfully. "And then, he promised me another bracelet... He's never given me anything besides on my birthday. It must mean something. He's never done that for anyone before."

"The frigid tyrant is finally thawing," Aphrodite pondered, swishing her cup. "Maybe he won't spend eternity a virgin, after all," she snickered.

Wait... Does she mean me and him...? Dynamene hid her face in her hands. Oh, no. This is too much. What am I doing here?!

"So he is getting sweet on you, then." Aphrodite threw her head back in laughter. "Oh, I can't believe it; that a day like this would come! It's too much."

"Well... not sweet, exactly, but..." Dynamene rubbed her arm.

"Not sweet?" Aphrodite rose one eyebrow. "He didn't kill you when he had the opportunity. That's quite the gesture of fondness for him, really."

Dynamene blinked, struck speechless.

"Now, then," Aphrodite continued, her voice taking on a more business-like tone. "As far as directly helping you, there's little I can offer. Poseidon would have my head if he ever found out I was interfering in his love life, and that wouldn't do." She sighed rather theatrically.

"Oh." Dynamene's shoulders sank. Then it was all for nothing.

"But..." Aphrodite continued with a mischievous smile. "That doesn't mean I can't point you in the direction of someone who can help you. I've heard through the grapevine that there's a witch not far from Poseidon's estate who does spell work for those who are willing to pay the price. She lives in one of the deepest undersea trenches. I'm sure she'd be happy to strike a deal with you."

"A witch?" Dynamene had misgivings about this immediately. Witches didn't exactly enjoy the highest of praises within the Greek pantheon's society. "Aren't a lot of them shady?"

"They are. But you're clever enough, and there's no guarantee that this witch will be as seedy as the rest. Just keep your wits about you. All you need is something to convince him to make a commitment to you. I understand Hera gave you a blessing during her latest visit."

Dynamene remembered the gilded pomegranate. "She did."

"Something about a guaranteed happy union, correct? She told me about it. There's your ticket to a happy ending; you just need to secure the union in the first place."

Dynamene smiled. "You're right. It was very kind of Hera to give me a blessing. I was so surprised."

"She didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart," Aphrodite sighed, giving her curls a shake.

Dynamene's smile froze. "What do you mean?"

"Hmm..." Aphrodite puffed her cheeks, weighing her next words. "I'll let you in on a little insider's secret: she wants Poseidon married to force a crack in his armor."

Dynamene stared at her. "Pardon? His armor?"

"If Poseidon gets married and has a family, he'll have a weak spot. Hera knows that Poseidon is feared more than Zeus, and she loathes the possibility of him holding more influence. She wants to have a way to keep Poseidon in line. That's why she gave you that pomegranate." Aphrodite shook her head, wrapping a curl of hair idly about one finger.

Dynamene's head was spinning as she tried to put two and two together. "But... the blessing would be useless to her purpose unless she knew that one of us liked the other. So how...?"

Aphrodite giggled mischievously and gave Dynamene a wink. "I guess I'm not always the best secret keeper myself."

Dynamene stared at her, aghast. Hera would use me as a tool to get to Poseidon? Her eyes darted back and forth anxiously. I'm so stupid. Of course she wouldn't give a random blessing like that out of kindness; that's not how the Olympians usually function.

"Don't fret too much, dear Dynamene." Aphrodite's eyes darkened above her smile. "It doesn't really matter what the future after your union holds; not how miserable of a man Poseidon is, or what your relationship turns out to be. If you marry him while holding that blessing, you'll be happy no matter what your situation is."

Dynamene's gaze searched the goddess's face. Why did it seem like Aphrodite's expression was almost one of pity?

Happy... even if I shouldn't be?

"Rest assured, I am rooting for you, little Nereid. Now go; I'll send you near the witch's home. Or, at least where I think it is." The goddess of beauty shrugged her delicate shoulders.

White light enveloped Dynamene once more, and she braced herself. Before Aphrodite's palace disappeared, she heard the goddess call out one last time: "In exchange, I expect to be the first to know about your wedding night!"

---

Author’s notes:

Did you know, when I started this fanfiction, I planned it to be 4 parts and about 9000 words?

I am now past 32000. Help me.

Things are coming to a head, stay tuned.

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #poseidon x oc #shuumatsu no valkyrie #Aphrodite #fanfiction

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just-a-real-human · 4 years ago

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Stress

(heya! this is my first story and i’m still not that good, so keep that in mind as you read ‘^^ please give any constructive critisism you can give to help me improve! i’ll write in mostly metric to make it easier on myself, let’s chalk it up to the translator being extra nice today) (extra note, i’m Dutch and English is actually my second language, so keep that in mind as well)

The classroom was filled to the brim with all kinds of aliens, from the wonderful to the weird, speaking in all their exotic languages. all the conversations differed and the translators they had really started to prove their worth! the only thing that truly stayed constant was the subject of their conversations...Humans. That was because this was a special class all about Humans, given by the head of research on humans, or ‘anthropology’ as the humans call it, an alien called Kr’kn. Kr’kn was one of the first to spend an extended amount of time in the company of humans, going on to become a famous figure in the galaxy.

After a couple minutes of this exitement in the classroom, it all suddenly went silent as two figures walked onto the speaking platform. the first being Dr. Kr’kn himself, a Molusk-like creature having some resemblance to an earth octopus, but with about 12 tentacles, 4 for locomotion, which are place under his body, giving him an upright gait and making him stand about 1.4M tall and 8 tentacles for manipulating the environment. But perhaps even more exiting, behind him followed a Human! The human followed Kr’kn closely, fidgeting with something grey in his hands. when they reached the speaking platform, The human promptly took seat in a chair next to the speaking platform, continuing to play with the thing it was holding, yet hiding it from view, looking around the room, but never looking directly at any of the students. Dr. Kr’Kn looked over the room and took a deep breath before saying.

“Humans, strange creatures aren’t they? Very, very complicated ones as well, there is much more to them then any sensory organ could perceive. They are loud, but can be almost entirely silent. They are social, but they need privacy and alone time frequently. They are tall, yet can blend with many environments, even without technology. I could go on for HOURS about the uniqueness of humans, and i probably will sometime! But not now, because over the course of these months i will teach you all i know of humans, starting not with the very basics, but the more advanced things as through (their equivalent of internet), reading and lessons you’ve learned the basics of them. So let us start with a subject not often touched on in education, stress and, unavoidably, rage.”

The students sat, watching the doctor, and occasionally the human, with wide eyes. they had indeed learned the basics of human biology. they had briefly touched on hysterical strength and subjects like that, yet they still didn’t have a very good understanding of humans, simply because nobody had. Except of course them one teaching them.

Dr Kr’kn continued. “We all know stress, most species have it. But in humans it can be especially prevalent. Stress in humans can drastically affect their mood, emotion, sexual interest, concentration and even lifespan. It can induce depression and loss of interest and a whole managerie of different effect on humans, nearly none being benificial. Often stress quickly can lead to anger, and is oftened compared to a rubber band, each thing that stresses them out tightening the band and if they are too stressed, they get angry. Humans have dubbed this stress-overload as ‘snapping’, and it can range from shouting at someone to assault and even death, both for the human and the one who made them ‘snap’. Humans can be quite easily stressed, for instance my dear friend here gets stressed by crowds, eye contact and meeting strangers, as well as a looong list of other things. this is partially due to mental disorders, but mostly due to personal differences.”

Many of the class nervously eyed the human after he said this, the human did seem a bit uncomfortable, what if he ‘snapped’ here? This seemed to be a stressfull environment, why would he be here? Was he forced?

The Doctor looked around, noticing the nervous glances and chuckled. “No worries, my friend here is calm as can be. This actually leads very well into the next part, how do humans relieve stress? Well, there’s some ways, that you’ve probably already learnt, and seeing as that’d be a little embaressing to go over for my friend, i’ll go to the less well known ones. A very popular one, maybe even more popular then any other, is music. An immense amount of emotion can be transferred into music, ranging from happiness to sadness, even anger can be put into music! The best example of ‘angry’ music is probaly a kind of music humans dub ‘metal’. Anyone sensitive to rythms, loud noises or things like that, please cover your ears.” He said, swiping a few times on the tablet infont of him, a large hologram raising infont of them before saying once more “I repeat again, if you are sensitive to fast rythms or loud noises, please cover your ears!”

He then pressed the play button and the music started playing, and indeed, as he said, the pure rage put in that music was so overwhelming some students actually seemed afraid, as if the humans on the hologram could jump out and attack at any moment! The human accompanying Kr’kn seemed to enjoy it, moving his head up and down in the rythm of the music a little.

Dr. Kr’kn paused the music, swiping it away. “Well, i suppose you get what i mean about anger being conveyed in the music? And despite its seemingly simple nature, metal often has deep symbolism, especially compared to the simple first impression. It also happens to be one of the most difficult forms of music to play. Another good way to relieve stress for humans are video games, especially either calm and cute ones, or the most violent ones they can create!”

The class laughed a little, assuming the doctor was making a joke. As a reaction the doctor pulled up another hologram, showing the class a cute, calm game about finding many orb like creatures with (human) smiles on their faces. It seemed to be a good example of what the doctor meant.

“now, if you are bad with blood, violence or dismemberment, please look away, and if you are sensitive to rythms and loud noises, cover your ears again.”

He then pulled up a video as one specific game, one set in a red, fleshy cityscape, destroyed and overrun with the most disturbing creatures you could imagine. But worst of all, a human was running through! With more of that ‘metal’ in the background the man was running through the creatures, shooting them with ballistic weapons, energy weapons and cutting them apart! It even ripped them apart with its bare hands! Many students looked at it, horrified, some even needing to look away. Kr’kn laughed, swiping away the hologram. “that there is a favorite game among many humans, including my friend here, he is quite skilled at it, in fact, the footage there is my friend playing that game!”

The students looked at the human, terrified. Humans ENJOYED murder and destruction!? They liked such violence and that music?

Dr. Kr’kn laughed again. “Anyways, yet another way of relieving stress, or more accurately, prevent stress, is in the form of a mental support thing. Often that is an object, like in the case of my friend here! If you would please look to him, he will show what his emotional support object is.”

The human seemed a bit aprehensive before revealing the grey thing he was holding and had been playing with...it was a small, grey teddybear with a white scarf. it was clearly quite old, it was clear it used to be coloured something else then grey, but due to years of hugging and washing, it had lost it’s colour, only it’s snout being a little brighter grey with a brown nose.

“Yes, that little thing is one of the most important things in my friends life, so important, in fact, that he has once killed someone for taking it.“

The students gasped, looking at the human, who looked away a bit, now holding the bear closely, clearly regretting what happened back there, and speaking for the first time. “Not JUST for taking teddy...he was a pirate”

Kr’kn laughed, shaking his head “True, true, the fact remains that it is an incredibly important object to him, anything else and he would have waited to sneak up on him, but he instead took the pirate on without bothering to sneak, he shouted so loud the pirate was stunned for a moment before my friend here beat him with a glass and stabbed him to death with the shards! none of us would dare approach him for hours after that...well, the humans kept their distance claiming he needed time alone, but we all noticed even the humans were fearfull. He only truly calmed down when his chosen mate, or ‘girlfriend’ went to speak to him. And that brings me to the most important and effective ways for a human to relieve stress.

Kr’kn let the students stare at the human for a little bit, he knew how they must have felt, humans were terrifying when you learn such stories, and even more if you experience them!

“there are 4 most important ways for a humans to release stress. And they are: Screaming, crying, talking and love. Screaming lets them simply release all the rage in their system in a simple roar, it can be one scream or many, but they are almost always effective. Talking means to simply share their troubles with someone, be it human or not, even talking to a pet, friendly wild animal or book(by writing it down) will help them as they aren’t the only ones stuck with it anymore, and the other might be able to help in some way. And now the two most important ones, Crying and love. Crying is a strange thing, humans will leak water out of their eyes and make a repeating sound, often accompanying screaming, but even more often it is silent, and they usually cry when safe. It releases all their stress and sadness over a period of time and is a very clear way for others to see how they feel, and Love is often a result of it, or what causes it, which is good. For instance the previous story, my friend here told his Girlfriend everything, and a human often gets repetitive when telling something, which you should deal with if you truly care for them. He then simply got a hug, which is one of the most primally loving and caring things a human can do. You all know kissing is something that human mates do, but a hug can be done by any human they care about. Physical contact is important for a human, and a good hug will often make a human cry their worries away, which is an important part of bonding and caring. Now do not go about hugging humans every chance you get, it’s something special, and not every human likes it. For instance my friend is a bit sensitive, so there are few people he allows to hug him, and i just so happen to be one of them.” He said the last part with a certain pride, having his race’s version of a smile as he looked at the human.

“Anyways, this is where my job ends for today, and yours starts. I want you to write a simple list of stress-relieving things for a human, write it as accurately as you can. And even if it isn’t very accurate, as long as your tried, it’ll be good enough for me. Next time i will go over the dangers of a human and what you should do to avoid it. I hope you have a good day and enjoy your time, goodbye!”

The students wished him farewell and Kr’kn walked away, the human joining him, still holding the bear closely. The students exitedly started talking to one another, having learned many things about humans that they didn’t know before. After many minutes of conversation, they slowly started to leave, and after about an hour or so the classroom was entirely empty.

WELL! that was my first story, i hope you enjoy it! again, give your opinions and constructive critisism down there, any ideas and suggestions are welcome as well! have a nice day c:

Good news! I fixed the comments (i think). :D

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are terrifying #aliens

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brennenscolby · 4 years ago

Text

The Rush | Taeyong

Summary: Ruthless criminal Lee Taeyong has had his eye on you for quite a while now. After playing cat and mouse games around Neo City, what happens when he finally captures you?

Pairing: Lee Taeyong (Villian!) x reader (Hero!)

Genre: DarkFic, Demon/Psychopath AU, 2-part series

Warnings: mentions of blood/gore, guns, knives, violence, yandere tendencies, demonology, obsession, smut/bdsm (incoming chapters), handcuffs, consensual sex

————

Crazed, polychromatic eyes glowed in the shadows from afar.

He knew what he was doing.

And he knew his actions would seek you out.

You stumbled to the ground, knees aching from the unexpected shove you had sustained to the waist. Instantly, you fell into a frenzy of emotions, blurred vision following suit.

It's only been a few minutes since you arrived, and everything was already at complete disarray.

Grey clouds contorted around the dark and gloomy sky as people scrambled in random directions, senses desperately fluttering into fight or flight mode. Grabbing your aching head, you took a deep breath to calm yourself while simultaneously muffling out the overwhelming chaos from your surroundings. After a moment of simple white noise, you looked up, the sudden echo of screams and shouts yanking you away from your brief serene state.

Buildings trembled feverishly as explosions resonated down the main district of Neo City. Bloody, splayed corpses rested on the cold concrete ground, displaying the work of an evil-doer.

With realization finally sinking in, you stood up, separating yourself from the frightened bodies. Determination quickly replaced your confusion, leaving you set on holding whoever created this disaster, accountable. Stumbling about, you silently thanked your lucky stars as you had happened to be appropriately dressed for the unexpected occurrence. However, even with that in mind, you couldn't say you were happy with the ongoing destruction around you. Being a heroine, you expected the city to be at peace for at least a day, but it seemed that would never be possible. Especially when a specific someone had broken out of Neo City's most isolated asylum.

Running a plan over in your head, you backed away, startled by the abrupt shadow which had secluded your vision and disappeared just as quickly as it came. Bringing a white, gloved hand to your face, you shielded your eyes away from the burning sun to specifically target what was infront of you. Now fully paying mind to the evening sky, you squinted at the city's tallest building, spotting something a little out of the ordinary.

There, you could faintly make out a relaxed figure, one way too relaxed to have blistering explosions happening around them.

It was him.

The only man who could ever infuriate you while simultaneously making your heart painfully skip a beat.

Your breath stuttered for a second before regulating in an instant. It was clear awareness had settled upon you a little too late.

You should've known.

Sweat rolled down your temple as you grew uneasy, failing to make out what he carried from the distance. Based on this fact, you assumed he couldn't see you, -which relieved your worries for a split second-, but, karma proved you wrong, for, he was more than prepared to nonchalantly jump off a four hundred and twenty five building without breaking a single bone.

Rising to his full height, his clear, emerald and amtheyst coat fluttered behind his form, almost as if to give him a god-like appearance. The impact of his landing was enough to make heads turn, forcing terrified civilians to screech even louder than before.

He sauntered down the street as bodies rushed passed him, fear-stricken faces resisting the urge to even take a glance at his gorgeous yet deadly visual. He was psychotic, insane was what he was, and yet,

He was the man who had stolen your heart.

Blonde, chartreuse and violet hairs fluttered over his domino patterned harlequin mask from his smoothly combed up-do, plaguing you with the mystery of his true facade and who he really was. Sharp, chocolate-colored eyes bore into yours innocently, almost as if to hide away the atrocities surrounding you.

Your eyes darted down to the gun holsters around each of his sides, notably spotting poisonous bullets you were all too familiar with. From your peripheral vision, you could see his hand sneakily fall down onto a firearm, further making you feel threatened and powerless.

But none of that could compare to when he sharply proceeded towards you.

Placing a white gloved hand onto your hip, you sleathily pulled your shimmering white sword from your pouch, bringing it forward to demandly aim it his way, only for it fall flat against his strong, gloved, vice-like grip. Nonetheless, you kept a poker face on, yet, even with this, you couldn't help but feel as your blood ran cold in alarm. The criminal clicked his teeth in annoyance, before rolling his neck around, the action being similar to that of a snake coiling it's tail. You grunted in response, already irritated with the first few seconds of your interaction. Your teeth brushing painfully close to each other with every bit of strength you mustered as you clenched them tightly,

“What is this? A game to you?"

"Perhaps", were the first few words he spoke, aiming his hooded gaze down at you. Just the simple sound of his tone sent tremors down your spine, reminding you of the sweet affectionate words he would use excessively to get a reaction out of you, “You can end all of this, princess. And you know how",

You locked yourself into a staring match at his response, insistent on standing your ground. His eyes which had been a beautiful dark brown, turned completely black, engulfed by the demonic possession in him. Just before he could channel his own demonic necromancy, you raised a hand,

"I will never let you win. No matter what."

Your thoughts raced from your head to your mouth, faster than you could even comprehend. For a second, you almost second guessed yourself for providing an answer to his unsolicited question.

Lee Taeyong, as he called himself, narrowed his eyes at you, swallowing thickly. With the tension heightening by the second, you almost could've sworn you saw pitch black energy radiate off his form, “We'll see about that, angel", were the last words he murmured, before bringing you terror like never before.

You raced down the street, heart pounding from the adrenaline that filled your veins. All of your white energy faded away, overshadowed by the criminal's powerful aura. You knew Lee Taeyong had been mixed into some bad things, but you never thought he was a full-on demon. With that in mind, you weren't too sure of what you would do as he had you exactly where he wanted you.Crouching down against a wall, you found yourself cornered in a pitch black alleyway. Your sword, which ran useless without your abilities, left you powerless. You had nothing to defend yourself aside from the last bits of fate and hope you clung onto.

A dark chuckle chastised you, only growing stronger and louder as it neared your cowering form, “I know where you are, my love. There's no point in hiding."

His shadow stretched across the brick wall adjacent to him, forming what seemed to look like a creature with horns, rather than the human he was reported to be. You stood from the hidden spot, finding the least bit of strength to stand your ground against him, even without abilities to aid. Just as you moved into a fighting stance, his footsteps suddenly ran quiet, leaving behind an ominous silence. Slowly but surely, you turned your head around, only to find the psychopath directly behind you. Your body suddenly pressed against the brick wall you had hidden behind, his own firm chest possessively trapping the rest of your torso from escape. His cold, gloved hands snaked around your waist, holding you steadily and firmly in place, “Found you", he uttered, that mysterious, glowing masked face of his, dangerously close to yours. The onyx of his eyes reflected demonic possession as the rest presented small specks of red, hinting at promiscuous intent,

"Hide and seek was never really a challenge with you, sweetheart", You twitched in surprise, feeling as his soft lips, just gently, but swiftly, pressed against the cold skin between the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His mask slightly grazed your cheek, creating a warming sensation followed by the heavy breathing of his hot breath grazing your throat,

“And it would never be", he whispered ominously. His hands rested gently on your hips, before greedily gripping the skin to pull you even closer. Just before you could close your eyes and give into his desires, you shoved him back, sending seeps of white energy burning into his skin from your touch. He hissed, clutching his shoulder with a strangled grunt. Just as he opened his mouth to retort, you reached out, smacking a hard hand across the brick wall before rounding the corner at an impeccable pace and darting off to your safe spot as quickly as possible.

A/N: Feel free to leave comments (including how trash it might’ve been) ^_^

#taeyong x y/n #taeyong x you #yandere taeyong #nct taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fic #taeyong lee #lee taeyong #ty lee #ty track #nct #nct 127 fic #nct 127 #lee Taeyong x reader #Taeyong lee x reader #Taeyong x reader #taeyong nct #villian taeyong #villian

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morgana-ren · 4 years ago

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Come Down to the Black Sea

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Teen, unless I chose to post the later chapters. Then things get all dirty and stuff.

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki. So, there’s that. Foul language, as always. Slight struggle.

Hello, please take my garbage. This was originally a discord exclusive ficlet that ended up too fucking long. I meant to post it a while back but got distracted. I’ve read over it and I hate it a lot more than I did originally, more than I can really convey, but I feel bad for not posting anything story related for a while and maybe some folks will enjoy this. I promise I edited, I swear. Never thought I’d write something like this. Ever. and by ‘like this’, I mean no filth less than 500 words in. Either way, here it is.

“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”

The sea is as much a constant to you as the gentle breeze that blankets your little port town. Every action you take daily in some small way reminds you that not so far away, the unforgiving tides are lapping hungrily at the shore and the restless ocean waters stir miles from the coast. Every breath you take is somewhat tinged with the briny smell of sea salt and slight sulfur. Seafood stalls and restaurants dot the coastal region, making up a large portion of the diets and employ of the folks who make their homes here.

Yet, for as big of a part of their lives as it is, there is so little known about it.

The ocean’s mysteries are as vast as her expanse and as deep as the trenches that lurk within her depths.

Children are raised on cautionary tales, made acutely aware of the ever-present dangers of life near the open water. Rip currents and drowning, sailors lost at sea and boats that never make it to harbor. Hostile creatures that make their nests within the darkened deep beyond the pale of human experience. These things are often as mysterious as they are tragic and leave behind loved ones mourning not only the loss of lives, but the answers they’ll never have.

Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if your kind has gotten just a bit too comfortable near the seaside.

You’re not the only one that thinks so.

It’s not by any stretch of the imagination to consider humans a loud and overwhelming presence. They dominate any space they come across, often having little to no regard for any other living creature and imposing their will on anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Once tranquil steads are trampled, native creatures baited and hunted, and soon there’s no semblance of the beauty that once existed. Humanity leaves behind an impossibly large footprint that destroys whatever is caught beneath its crushing boot.

The ocean is no exception.

Sailors, whalers, and fishermen blot the waters, disrupting the natural cycles of the creatures that make their homes beneath them. Garbage, rot, and other various forms of filth are callously dumped and left to drift. Human hubris has seen the death of the coral reefs, the extinction of entire species, and even radiation left to leak and poison everything in its path.

The only place safe from the fecund shadow of destruction that looms wherever humans may roam are places far too treacherous to facilitate their survival.

You’ve come to believe that maybe beings that are forced to breed in that darkness grow to harbor a grudge against that which pushed them there.

Your little seaport city has always been relatively calm. It attracts enough tourists to keep it economically stable, but not so many as to make it a cultural hub. The signature beaches are only mildly clogged with tourist trap giftshops, and while the sands are busy, there’s not so much foot traffic as to make it unpleasant to visit.

Things have run relatively smoothly for your hometown, at least for the majority of your life. There’s the one-off oddity every now and again, but for the most part, it’s a fine place to live. The native folk are kind enough, and there’s decent opportunity for growth. Still, life always left something to be desired; some greater need that tugs at you and calls you toward the ocean.

Watching the fishing vessels come to and from the bay can be calming. What started as a time wasting hobby as a child has turned into a nightly practice. The marine layer makes it difficult to see early mornings, and the incessant chatter of tourists and their screeching younglings make it difficult to think during the daylight hours. It didn’t take long before the boats mattered little, and it was the time alone you valued. You’d curl up in the still-warm sand, gazing out into the horizon and watching the moon rise high above the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean and losing yourself in its subtle song.

Even as adulthood inevitably sought you out, you found time for your solitary moments that existed between no one but you and the horizon.

It brought you a sense of peace. No matter how much time passed, a part of you stayed anchored to the beach.

Yet, nothing stays peaceful forever, especially near the rocky shoreline.

It started with a missing boat.

It was the talk of the town. A small schooner had gone missing just off the coast and never returned. A band of brothers had set out for a weekend voyage and by Tuesday, no word of them had returned to shore. It had made the local news, pictures of the men aboard flashed across the screen, all smiling faces and sunburned skin. They were experienced sailors, raised on the waves and having spent more time in a boat than they did on land.

Surely, they were fine. Everyone hoped for the best.

At least until pieces of the boat washed ashore a week later, no sign of brothers anywhere.

That incident was the first of many.

Early morning swimmers began to disappear without a trace, divers vanishing without warning. More and more boats failed to make it to harbor despite calm conditions, and soon some people rejected the water all together. The missing persons board was filled with more macabre grinning faces that served as reminders than ever before, and inevitably, people became paranoid.

Superstition gained favor over logic, and tales spread of a malevolent being plaguing the coast began to spread. Children were warned against playing in the tides and tourists begin to shy away from the port. Locals and witnesses talk amongst each other, claiming to see a pair of vicious, glowing red eyes from deep within the water after dark.

Those who denied the possibility shunned those who fell into the myth, claiming that it was clearly boat lights and that folks were too finicky. There was no mysterious sea monster, only misfortune and the loose lips of idle handed fools.

Still, that didn’t account for the sudden surge in disappearances nor did it explain why no remains were ever found.

The mysteries intrigued you, but you worry little for the danger. While you weren’t entirely sure what to think, you never stepped far into the ocean on your nightly visits, mostly only skirting around the water’s edges and observing. Superstition be damned, this was the one place you felt a sense of utter calm and peace. You’re not disturbing the sea or her inhabitants; only sitting by her and admiring her beauty.

You mind your business along the beach and you think that keeps you safe, but that doesn’t spare you his wrath.

A lonely night walker, you loiter along the sands and drag your feet through the wetness. You never let the water flood past your ankles, opting to squish the damp muck beneath your toes instead. He watches you, just out of his reach and still so close. Rage simmers in his chest and his fingers twitch, longing to rip you apart, feel your heartbeat as it slows and ceases beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t dare try his luck against the surface, but you infuriate him.

Time and time again, he’s tried to lure you out.

You never fall for it, though he can tell by the way your eyes linger on the ocean a tad too long that you're curious. If he cared enough to place it, he'd say you look sad, maybe a little forlorn. After all, who comes to a deserted beach alone at night that isn't?

Always the same section of sand, always the same look on your face. You kick at the particles stuck to your grimy feet like it'll sooth whatever repressed emotion you're stewing in, and he can't help but scoff.

Humans are completely ridiculous.

Still, he watches, determined to see you inhale deep the waters around you while what little light you have left in your eyes leaves, same as the rest of your kind that has fallen prey to his deadly actions.

Night after night he waits, and night after night you resist. You don't fall for his tricks, even the ones that beguile the seasoned sailors. It's curious, he'll admit. No matter how longingly you look at the ocean like it could offer you something you need desperately, you never give into the temptation to wade just a little deeper, just take a few fucking steps forward. Perhaps you come from a sea fairing family who had elders that warned against the seduction of the low night tides, or maybe your primal human brain still holds an inkling as to what dwells deep beneath your world, but either way, it agitates him more than he'd like.

He's always had a wanderlust and never sticks around the same sections for long, but the fact that you've been evading the watery grave he dug just for you grates at him. He finds himself waiting moonrise after moonrise to see your form emerge, wracking his brain for ways to trick your feeble human mind into his waters. He's better than you, in every sense of the word. This shouldn't be this difficult.

If he didn't know better, he would say that you know. You never quite look directly at him, but your head is always turned in his direction, as if you have some sixth sense of his location. He doesn't like it. Even though you're the one in the sights of a predator, it makes him feel like a goldfish trapped in a tank. You piss him off.

But eventually, one night, his patience finally pays off.

Warily, you perch yourself on some rocks that stray into the ocean. You don't even dip your feet in, which, while not ideal, would have been enough for him to work with. Instead, you sit with your arms crossed over your knees, same distant grimace on your face that you sport every night. You seem hypnotized by the reflection of the moon on his waters, hardly blinking or even really breathing except for the occasional despondent sigh.

The thing that stirs you from your daze is a flash of silver just under the water beneath where you're sitting. At first you think it's a fish, since it's not uncommon to see them around when all the beachgoers retreat for the day, but the eerie luminescent glow is unlike any fish you've ever seen before in a life almost wholly occupied by the sea. You watch intently for a moment, hoping to see it again, but give up when all that greets you is the deep, murky blue of sunsetted waters.

Still, once you pull your eyes from the gently splashing waves, it catches your attention once more. You're curious if you're just seeing strange broken reflections of the moon, but that wouldn't explain why once you offer it your attention, it disappears.

You keep your eyes down and stare long into the water, and eventually it appears again. Long and stringy, it’s definitely unlike any fish fin you've ever seen. It's incandescent almost, reflecting the silvery light of the moon with an oddly hypnotizing pearlescent glow. You’ll admit, it’s strange, but what alarms you the most are the two crimson eyes staring up at you from beneath the tangle of silvered webbing.

You almost recoil, but you're anchored in place by some hybrid mix of fear and curiosity. The urge to scream becomes paralyzed somewhere deep in your throat when a thin, gangly arm reaches up and grasps at the craggy surface of the rock before your feet. It looks… human... or at least it would, if it wasn't for the slight iridescent sheen of the skin- if you look closely, you can almost make out what appears to be scales and a thin fin that runs the expanse of the forearm. Thick, slimy webbing coats the inside of each finger, becoming more apparent as long claws stretch and crawl toward your retracted legs.

Those maliciously alluring eyes draw closer and closer to the surface and soon enough, you can make out what appears to be a face somewhere just under the waves staring right back up you.

Another hand joins the one currently clinging to the rock and the figure hoists itself up partway from the water, and soon you're face to face with...

Well, you can't really say what.

You were right, it's human. He's human. At least… half human?

Drenched white hair slicks back just below his shoulders and clings to the sides of his face, beadlets of water sliding down from the wintery strands down to what appears to be a pair of gills that encircle the rounds of his neck. There's something akin to black fins parting the slicked hair where his ears should be, but even that's not enough to pull your attention from the perverse scarlet eyes burning into yours from behind the severely salt-chapped flesh of his face.

Unnatural hue aside, they’re utterly petrifying, and while something deep in your body tells you that you should run, you can't bring yourself to move from the spot.

He pulls himself up a bit, lithe torso exposed as he lazily rests his head on his finned forearms by your feet. His body language is completely contradicted by the obvious hate in his expression, which only makes it even more difficult for your brain to try and decide what in the fuck you're supposed to do in this situation.

What the hell is he?

You try to ask, but the shock of seemingly stumbling upon a possibly malevolent supernatural creature in the dead of night has caused a severe regression in your speech capabilities. The only thing your mouth is capable of producing is a series of incoherent babbles and sounds, hands shaking as your resist the urge to touch him to see if he's real or if you've been slipped some form of extremely powerful hallucinogen.

He studies you briefly through pale lashes and you could swear you see him roll his eyes before a prolonged blink.

I'm sorry, is this not the expected result? He's looking at you like you're the weird one in this scenario?

Regardless, he lets you stare at him and allows your feeble human brain to come to terms with what you're seeing. Amazing, how quickly your kind forgets you don't exist alone. He draws the line, however, when you finally find the ability to go to poke his fins. He swats you away with an unnaturally quick movement from his slippery, wet hand and you stare at the water spots he leaves behind like it's the strangest shit you've ever seen.

"Are you often so rude as to touch strangers, human?"

You skitter back on your ass, eyes wide and disbelieving even as the truth stares you back with a mocking expression. His voice is raspy and graveled, cracking from what you assume is disuse. It takes you a moment to process his words, despite being absolutely certain that you’ve heard them.

"Holy fuck, you're real!"

"Just grasping that, are we?"

"What the fuck are you?"

His face contorts and his lips lift in a snarl, revealing the extremely sharp looking fangs on either side of his mouth. Okay, so that might've been extremely rude. He's obviously sentient, so maybe saying something so brash and offensive wasn't really the way to go.

"Sorry, I mean -fuck - I've just never, uh-" You clear your throat awkwardly, still trying to decide whether or not to bolt. He watches you through tautly narrowed lids, and you get the feeling you should tread very carefully. Whatever emotion it is you see in his face, it certainly isn't patience.

"Are you a..." What would you call him? A mermaid? A fish-man? A sea spirit? It doesn't quite matter, since he doesn't give you time to finish your line of thought.

"Your people have no word for what I am." He speaks the words almost bitterly. "But just because your kind doesn’t acknowledge me doesn't mean I don't exist."

You're not entirely sure if you should apologize on behalf of the human race or admit yourself into a psych ward.

"What, uh, what should I call you... Um, sir?" Smooth. But you're not really sure what to say here. What exactly are proper honorifics when it comes to situations like this?

"My name," He sighs again, as if it's some great chore to introduce himself. "Is Shigaraki."

"Okay, Shigaraki," You say his name, trying to get the hang of it as it rolls off your tongue. "It's nice to meet you- I think?"

He pays your attempt at polite conversation no mind at all.

"What are you doing here, human?"

Okay, he's curt and to the point. Good to know. He seems to have very little consideration for your bewilderment, despite being the one that demanded your attention in the first place, which isn’t necessarily a good thing when you don’t really know how to answer his question between the confusion and the sheer oddity. To be frank, you can’t muster much of a response.

"Just... sitting here?"

"No, I mean what are you doing? Every single night, you come here, you look at the sea for hours. Why?"

His pointed tone demands an answer, seeming irate or even provoked by your harmless nightly activity.

"I don't know." For some reason, the question frustrates you as well, mainly because you really don't know. The ocean soothes you, even if you're just spectating it. It's too busy during the day, packed with tourists and teenagers yelling and bounding around in the sand, and while you're happy they're having a good time and all, the voices are impossible to drown out. Even the sea seems to protest their presence, the tide becoming higher and higher and more rambunctious until it almost forces the invaders out. More than once, folks have almost drowned for being too stubborn and refusing to cut their beach day short despite the obvious danger.

It seems to calm itself at night, waves gently washing ashore instead of slapping angrily at the feet of anyone treading the sand as if it's trying to coax them deeper only to pull them under.

"You don't know?" It seems more like a statement than a question, and it's an unimpressed statement at that.

"Yeah. I don't really know. I just like being here, I suppose." You shrug, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. It could be the shock, but somehow, you’re actually managing to carry on the conversation with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Once again his body language drastically contradicts the vibe you're getting from him. He leans back casually in the water, and just beneath the edge, you see something slick and shiny flutter where you're certain his legs should be. "I guess not. But if you like it here so much, why don't you ever come in?"

"I-I don't know... The water is dangerous at night..."

“Is ‘I don’t know’ all you know how to say?” He gives you a derisive smile, mocking your tone while swimming graceful circles back and forth in front of the rock with an inhuman grace that sets you on edge. "Don't tell me you're scared, little human."

"I'm not scared, I'm just not stupid."

He runs his tongue over his fangs and something akin to a smile crosses his features. "Sure you're not. A little girl like you could never be afraid of a little water."

He's taunting you and you know it, but the way his eyes stay locked with yours as he swims around and around and around is making you feel a little dizzy...

"I'm not afraid-"

"Come in then."

He dips into the water and disappears, and despite knowing better, you find yourself leaning over the rock to see where he's gone. He's waiting for you just under the waves. You can see the fluid flap of an ebony tail glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair haloed around his head. One clawed finger beckons you toward him, and you can feel yourself leaning further and further.

You're willing yourself to draw back, but the closest you can come is ceasing your forward movements. Even as you try, you can't pull your eyes away from his, staring unblinkingly up at you and glowing that foreboding sanguine shade that cuts even through the darkness of the waves.

'Come in, little girl. Show me you're not scared.’

His webbed hand threads up through the rippling surface, ready and waiting for yours.

You can't help it.

You reach.

You feel the slippery surface of his scaley skin interlocking with yours before something in his expression morphs into something wholly ominous and knocks you from your stupor. His magnetic eyes darken, sinister snarl hinting through the smile he’s straining to keep. This isn’t a serene sea creature playfully helping you face your fears; the ill intent is written on his face too prevalently as his mesmeric movements lure you toward the water.

This is a predator, one determined to sink his teeth deep into your neck and steal the life from your still beating heart. You can feel it as his grip begins to tighten on your own palm.

Whatever spell he might have been casting has been broken if only just enough for you to shake yourself free. He's almost fully closed his fingers around yours before you jerk sharply, yanking your hand away. In anticipation of your movements, he thrusts up and out of the water, sharp claws digging hold into the skin of your forearm. You cry out from surprise more so than the pain even though the tips of his pointed talons slice open your skin with little to no resistance.

Fangs bared and enraged, he’s clearly livid now. All facade of relaxation falls away as his tail flaps furiously trying to pull you into the water with him. He's strong, but your will to live is stronger. The layered skin of your knees breaks as it scrapes against the jagged rock, body thrashing and desperately try to release yourself from his unyielding grip

"Let go of me!"

"Get in, you little brat!"

"No!"

Falling backwards and trying to use your weight as leverage, you do your best to kick the creature off. You land a few good hits on his lean chest, but it's not enough to fully dislodge his grip. It takes a well-placed, hard slap to the side of one of his headfins to finally stun him. It was a last-ditch effort, but oddly enough, it works.

He instinctively releases you in favor of cradling his tender, damaged fin. It isn’t long before he realizes his error and comes to his senses, but it gives you just enough time to pull away. He snaps forward several more times in pure, seething rage, fingers clamping around nothing but air in his failed attempt to seize you once more.

Sputtering and hissing, he even crawls partway onto the rock as you're furiously backpedaling away from the water to save yourself, giving you good look at where his hips meet the sleek scales of his pitch-black tail. It’s fascinating, beautiful even, but your body knows better than to slow to give yourself a better look. The split-second flash in your memory will have to suffice, coupled with the sheer and utter terror that will no doubt be permanently ingrained in your memory from this encounter.

His inflamed face and vividly gleaming red eyes that watch you with palpable hate written in his expression are the last thing you see before pushing yourself up on your haunches and sprinting away from the sea as quickly as your little human legs can carry you.

He watches you run, slamming a fist down on the rock in frustration and spitting out curses. He almost had you. He was so fucking close!

Once he manages to calm himself, he allows himself to coax the sore fin on the side of his head. Its thrumming in pain, overly sensitive to the touch. It was like you had known just where to hit him to make it hurt. Yet, as angry as he is, he can't deny that you're interesting.

"You can't escape me, girl. You'll be back."

The sea calls to you, and you can’t resist that call forever. You can’t resist him forever.

#Shigaraki x reader #Tomura Shigaraki #Shigaraki #Hey Ho What the fuck is wrong with me #Siren Boy just wantsta love you I swear #It aint my best but I really love the sea right now

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backdraft-bimbo · 4 years ago

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tfatws 1x01 thoughts

Okay I already love it. This show has a very strong start–good exposition of the characters, the aftermath of the Blip, and the introductions of the antagonist force.

I’m super impressed at how “movie-like” it is visually and the unique tone is carrying on real well. I ended the episode being like, “I need more. That cannot be it.” It went by really fast.

First off, I can feel how different this show is gonna be from other Marvel content. Without even saying it directly, but by watching how the plot progresses and the politics and character interactions, it’s clear this show is gonna hit some sore spots for America. I’m so on board for that–it finally feels less super-hero-y and more human. Real issues. Real PEOPLE.

Sam is clearly struggling with the mantle of Captain America, and he knows that other people would too if he took it, so he doesn’t step up. And you can’t blame him, clearly Rhodes doesn’t either. It’s a hard role to fill, especially since Cap was your stereotypical strong white American hero. And anyone who’s not a complete ignoramus knows that there would be a lot of backlash and hate directed at Sam if he, a black man, replaced Steve Rogers. No matter how skilled and awesome for the role he is. Like literally just look at real life right now. This show announcing Sam Wilson as the new Cap juxtaposes the reaction by a portion of Americans in this show. Some people weren’t happy about it. Others loved it. It’s a mirror to our country’s long-standing flaws.

The whole segment with Sam’s sister and trying to get a loan made me so sad but like, it’s realistic. I’m glad we’re getting more good female characters in the Marvel universe, and their dynamic is really nice. I especially loved the ambience of the Wilson boat where Sam is standing there in silence, just staring off into the window with seagull noises in the background... it just felt really calming. There aren’t many quiet moments like that in action heavy Marvel films. It’s adding depth to the world. Also his nephews are so cute!

The scene where Sam is fighting mid air was so badass...bruh. Anthony Mackie CARRIES. I’m kinda overwhelmed at how much I know about Sam Wilson now just because of one episode. Shows that the tiny details really add a lot of depth and make them feel more real. Sam’s little “What’s up” made me giggle a lot. And the new air force dude, I’m a fan of him. He’s cute and I think he’ll be recurring.

Then there’s Bucky’s whole part of the episode, which I just gotta say broke my heart over again. He really is a compassionate guy who went through awful things and he’s just trying to find some peace, like he mentioned to his therapist. Which was such a strong scene, btw. I loved that. Also Sam has been texting him!! I’m so excited to see them interact and get that spicy dynamic we love, but alongside more serious moments where they open up to each other; letting down the walls Bucky has to confide in Sam, and Sam confiding in Bucky about his doubts in becoming Cap. I just really want them to bond. A lot. And hug. Pull throughhhh.

And Bucky with his notebook of peoples’ names that he needed to make amends (I think that’s what it was) was SO heartwrenching to see. You can feel him becoming more human as a character. No more Winter Soldier–we get Bucky Barnes now. You can just feel it in Sebastian’s performance how well he knows Bucky, and the guilt on his face when he interacts with that old Japanese guy was so tragic. It looked like he wanted to tell him he killed his son, but there’s that visible internal struggle of having to trust someone and knowing it won’t go well. I really really want to give him a hug.

But there was some humor sprinkled in this episode, which I appreciated. It didn’t feel forced though, more of like a Spiderman: Homecoming vibe where the humor is a lot more situational and how people would actually act.

Anyway I don’t want to wait another week. I have work tomorrow but if they released all the episodes at once I would 100 percent binge it all into the early morning. GO WATCH IT.

#spoilers #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #1x01

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infernwetrust · 4 years ago

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Hands On [Michael Langdon x Jim Mason x Fem Reader] Pt 1.

Summary: The one where you attempt to teach Michael how to use his hands rather than his powers, but things get a little out of hand.

Warnings: some smut, mentions of smut, swearing, some violence, fluff, emotional, brief mention of drug use

WC: 4.0k

A/N: The next chapter is allllll smut up until about the end. This one came to me randomly today and I had to get my ideas down before I lost them forever. Part 1 of a 2 part series. Thank you for reading! -Juno

He stood there in his boxing gear that you had got him the same time you had got yours. He watched as you effortlessly took jabs at the punching bag he had gotten you for Christmas last year, not all really interested in your technique more than how invested he was in your body. The way your training bra fit you perfectly. The way your shorts pointed out all your features. You glistened as the sweat rolled off your body.

You've been doing this with him for the past 2 weeks after months of trying to convince him. The two of you had to talk it over. You let him know that sometimes he didn't always have to snap someone's neck when he was angry. Aside from being the fucking anti-christ, you wanted him to have a normal life as much as possible. You wanted to give him the things he never had when he was younger and of course he was grateful for that. And while snapping their necks was his favorite thing to do, he let his guard down and allowed for you to teach him how to box.

"Okay." you said, taking a moment to pause and catch your breath. "Ready to show me what we've been working on?"

"Remind me as to why I can't just continue to use my magic?" Michael questioned, using his glove to scratch the back of his head.

"Because I'm going to show you how much fun it is to be more hands on."

"It's messy, Y/N. You know I never like to be messy when it comes to my work. I don't like to leave evidence behind."

"But you're sooooo good at it."

And he was. A quick learner, he too, was damn near flawless in front of this punching bag. It was an outlet for all the anger he's been keeping in since he was small and when he got into it, he was really into it. He would go for hours and hours on end and you'd had to do some strong convincing for him to stop and come have dinner. He thought of everything he went through growing up, letting the energy flow through him.

"Plus it'll be your exercise for the day." you added.

"I already get that in the bedroom every other night, my love." he retorted, giving you a smirk.

"Haha. Very funny, Michael."

"But if you insist, so I shall."

He took a deep breath, stepping in front of the punching bag, peering around it to stare at his and your other partner, Jim, who also liked to box, but his fighting style was more MMA. He loved to use both his hands and feet whether he was just sparing or actually fighting. He watched the boy, who was sweating profusely, jab after jab after jab on his new punching bag that you had bought him, his very first birthday he spent with the two of you instead of his sister. Michael loved to watch the two of you pursue a common hobby. He loved how tight Jim kept his boxing shorts. He was on full display and Michael eye's always drifted across his body, especially the bulge between his legs. When Jim got in front of his punching bag, everyone in the room disappeared. He zoned completely out. It was just him, his kicks and punches, and most importantly, his music. You and Michael warn him every time that he isn't going to be able to hear when he gets into his 50s, but Jim's always been hard headed.

You were already married to Michael for 2 years when the two of you found Jim, but he didn't care, he still loves the both of you the same. It's been a year since then. All 3 of you met at a bar, Michael pointing him out to you. He was shy at first and reserved, but a few drinks loosened him up and he was telling the two of you everything. You learned about his parents divorce, his substance abuse, his anger, and fear of abandonment over the course of a 2 week period and why he left Palos Verdes and moved to LA. Michael was the first to fall for Jim and he fell hard, you following shortly behind. Behind all his anger, he was so sweet, so caring, and so passionate. He made love to you and Michael and was rough when he needed to be, but he preferred to be gentle. Him and Michael occasionally exchanged roles in the bedroom. Jim's favorite after a long day of surfing was having Michael ride him while you sit on his face, the two of you making out above him. Or when you would come home after an extremely stressful day of work, venting to the both of them, Jim and Michael both would take turns loving you, filling you up until you felt like you had enough. This was followed by cuddles and kisses all night long until Jim fell asleep, Michael already sleeping like a baby. Or the nights when Jim would hear Michael yelling at one of his cooperative members either over the phone or video call, and especially the meetings he had in house. The in house ones Jim loved. Michael would be furious, storming into the bedroom to Jim sitting in the middle of their California king, shirtless, in those soft blue boxers Michael adored, reading a comic book. Jim would instantly look up, his soft eyes, meeting Michael's hard gaze and he'd shoot him a reassuring smile before motioning him to come here. Jim would give Michael whatever he wanted and a sucker for his boy, Michael was gentle.

Jim was always overwhelmed with excitement when Michael let him know that he was the full dom for the night. He'd absolutely destroy you and Michael, loving hearing the screams of his name come off your lips, especially. Whether it was you begging for him not to stop, or Michael desperately begging to be choked harder, Jim out performed himself every time.

There was nothing you enjoyed more than watching your two men together. When you come home from work to find them cuddled up on the couch, just laughing at random things or when they're both cooking and snap their heads up at the same time once they hear your voice. It's both of them being able to be the voice of reason for different situations. It's Michael arguing with Jim over the small stuff. It's Jim purposefully fucking up Michael's work, so that he would give the two of you some attention. Everyday the both of them never fail to remind you why you love them so much.

"Actually." Michael said, holding onto the punching bag in front of him. "I want to spar with Jim."

"You really think Jim is going to let you spar with him?" you questioned. "He doesn't play spar like we do, Michael. He wouldn't even spar with me, experienced as I am." Feeling pairs of eyes on him, Jim looked up, still punching, glancing between the two of you. He stopped, holding onto the punching bag until it stilled.

"What?" he questioned, taking his one of his ear buds.

"Michael wants to spar with you."

"No." Jim immediately said, running his hands through his drenched hair, walking over to one of the shelves for his water bottle. "2 weeks with you and only has ever done MMA once with me when you were sick. I won't even spare with you, Y/N, let alone the inexperienced."

"That almost hurts my feelings." Michael said, giving his best pouty face. He walked over to Jim, leaning against his punching bag as he watched him gulp his water down.

"Told you." you said, glancing between the two of them.

"Come on, Jim Jam." Michael said, playfully taking a jab at him, which Jim dodged of course, still drinking from his water bottle.

"No, Michael."

"You're wasting your time, Mike. He's not going to lay his hands on you." Michael took another jab at Jim, this time, causing him to drop his water bottle on the floor.

"Michael, come on, seriously. I don't want to hurt you. I don't "play" spar. If I start throwing punches, I'm going to throw them like I'm in the ring."

"Let's get in the ring then. That's what I renovated this house for. Got that brand new ring in the middle of our gym, just for you and Y/N. Put it to use, yes?"

"I have been using it. A couple buddies come over every other weekend, but you're too caught up in your cooperative bullshit to come socialize. They are the only ones I spar with."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I don't want to hurt you. That is my only reason. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to finish up here. You might be the anti-christ, but you're still human."

"Plus.." he continued, mumbling. "I can't fuck up that pretty face of yours."

"Sweet." Michael said, grinning. "But I'll let you know if you're hurting me. Don't I always?"

"Michael." Jim groaned. "Why do you never take no for an answer?"

"This man hasn't been told no for most of his life."

"So spoiled." Jim sighed, popping his ear buds back in, cracking his knuckles to return back to his objective. He pulled his fist all the way back and was about to strike, when Michael appeared directly in front of him, causing him to halt immediately.

"For fuck sakes."

"Spar with me."

"NO. Now MOVE." Michael appeared behind Jim, giving him a jab in his back.

"Spar with me." You watched amused, folding your arms over your chest, wanting to see exactly how this would play out.

"Michael, I swear-," Another jab connected with Jim's side. "Fucker."

"Spar with me." Jim turned around to glare at Michael who had that stupid grin on his face again. Without even thinking and completely catching Michael off guard, Jim picked him up by the back of his thighs, Michael naturally wrapping them around his waist. He was a dom that wasn't afraid to be a sub for his babies. And then Jim slammed him down to the mat in front of him, knocking all the wind out of him, Michael grunting loud as his back hit the floor. He coughed vigorously as Jim hovered over him, jaw clenched in a semi-angry gaze.

"Jim!" you yelped.

"Safe word." Jim said, jaw clenched tighter.

"Safe word for what-,"

"Safe word!" Jim barked at him. Michael cocked his head to the side, confused. And while the safe word was normally used for sexual connotation, Jim had started using them for when his spars got over the limit serious.

"Hands..." Michael said. Jim quickly hopped off of him, grabbing his hand and yanking him up off the mat. What was special about the ring that Michael got installed in the house was that he got special gloves made for them as well and all for Jim. When Jim wasn't on the beach surfing, he was always practicing and learning how to defend himself. These gloves were only activated once you stepped in the side the ring. They were designed to register critical hits to the body, thus administering points on an electronic score board.

"Change your gloves." Jim said, sounding agitated as he took his practice ones off to put on the special ones. "And get a mouth guard on."

"Jim you're really gonna-," you were gonna question him, but he cut you off.

"Daddy wants to spar right? So Jim is gonna spar with daddy." You grabbed him by his arm, pulling him closer to you to whisper in his ear while Michael got ready.

"He's no where near ready for something like that."

"He doesn't seem to care." Jim whispered back. "And you know Mike gets what he wants or he loses his mind." You sighed, resting your forehead against Jim's, feeling him lighten. "I most likely won't go overboard. I really can't bare to hurt him. You remember how I felt after I accidentally burnt him one time and now he wants me to put my hands on him."

"Just be careful please."

"I wish you two would stop worrying so much." he said.

"And I wish you would stop reading our thoughts."

"Habit." he chuckled, putting his long hair into a neat bun. "Come on Jim Jam." Michael stepped in the ring first, it immediately recognizing him.

Welcome, Michael.

Jim sighed, stepping in after him.

Welcome, Jim.

Jim walked over to Michael, wanting to convince him to change his mind because he knew once he got in the zone it would be hard for him to stop. He had a soft spot for the both of you.

"No I don't want to change my mind." Michael said as Jim approached him, but that didn't stop Jim from getting any closer. He grabbed Michael by the back of his neck, pressing his lips roughly against his in a heated kiss.

"I'm sorry..." Jim said, pulling away breathlessly. "If I do anything to hurt you." He touched gloves with Michael before returning to his corner. "Y/N, you know the drill." You got in the ring with the both of them, giving them the cue.

"Are you ready?" you asked Michael, him giving you a quick nod. You looked at Jim. "Are you ready." He gave you the same quick nod in return.

"Fight!" you said, throwing your arm up in the air and immediately getting out of the way. You watched as they both shuffled around, getting closer to each other. Michael started with baby jabs, jabs that Jim easily slapped away as the two continued to shuffle around. Jim noticed how quick Michael was on his feet and was going to have to change up his strategy. Michael knew better than to use his magic for an advantage. He wanted this to be fair. Jim took the first real jab, Michael softly grunting as it connected with his side. He backed away slightly from Jim, still shuffling on his feet, but Jim wasn't having it. The more Michael tried to back up, the closer Jim got.

"Remember to not let your opponent corner you." you reminded Michael, knowing that if Jim got him in that corner, it would be over. Michael quickly glanced over at you, Jim taking the opportunity to throw another punch, but Michael deflected that one, hitting Jim in his jaw with a counter, but Jim still didn't stand down. He wanted to box Michael in. Jim grabbed him, the two immediately entering a grapple, Jim's cheek pressed up against Michael's shoulder as he attempted to knee him on the side of his leg.

Michael attempted to switch positions, wanting Jim to be facing away from him, but still wrapped in his arms, but Jim knows that move all too well, so he went stiff as a board, not allowing Michael to move him. Instead, he swept Michael off his feet, slamming him to the ground, wanting to go for the submission early. He wrapped his leg around Michael's throat, pulling his arm all the way back, to the point where Michael thought his shoulder was going to rip out it's socket. Full of energy, he quickly broke that submission, now on his back, but Jim was quick, making his way on top of Michael.

Michael held his hands up, knowing to defend his face as the punches from Jim came. He could deflect them all day and as soon as he felt the energy change in Jim's body, kicked him in his chest so that he would stumble over, attempting a submission of his own. He had seen this one on tv. The triangle choke. He tried to grab of Jim's arms, but Jim scrambled to his feet and so did Michael.

"No one submits me." Jim said. "Ever."

"But you submitted to me last night in my office?" Michael questioned as he shuffled around in circles, forcing Jim to do the same. "My cock looked pretty good in the back of your throat." And that made Jim, angry. And before Michael knew it, Jim's foot had connected with the side of his thigh, making him lose his footing immediately, slamming down into the floor, giving Jim the opportunity to get back on top of him. The punches came too fast for Michael to block, so he flipped over onto his stomach instead, getting on his knees so that Jim would fall off of him. And when he got back up, Jim did too.

"Jim, calm down, remember who-," you began to say, but he had already tuned everything out. It was just him and Michael in the room now. Whack. Another kick came, but this time it was in Michael's side, completely knocking the wind out of him for the second time today. He screamed, falling to the ground, rolling around in pain, but that didn't stop Jim. That didn't signal the end of the match. He walked over to Michael, breathing hard, his tongue pressed up against his bottom lip as he focused on what he was about to do. He was going to do the triangle choke. He kneeled down beside Michael who was still groaning, in pain.

"Jim, stop!" you yelled. "I think he's actually." But Jim didn't seem to hear you. He grabbed Michael's arm, pulling it over his head, causing him to scream again, pain radiating all throughout his side. He wrapped his leg around Michael's neck and shoulder, placing his other leg around his opposite ankle. He squeezed. He squeezed his like his life depended on it, Michael's own arm and Jim's legs, now applying so much pressure to his neck, Michael got light headed. Jim knew he would have to tap or he would pass out in a matter of seconds. "Jim no!" You got in the ring, trying to get Jim off of Michael, but he was determined to get Michael to submit to him.

"Hands..." Michael said, barely above a whisper, so ever lightly tapping Jim's leg, causing Jim to immediately let him go, Michael choking on his own spit, gasping for air, in pain, due to his side. Jim stood up, throwing his gloves off, running out of the ring, hands in his hair as he stormed out of the room.

"Michael." you said, placing your hand on his chest, wanting him to stay still. "Calm down baby, breathe. In 3...2...1. Out 3...2...1."

"My side." he breathed out. You looked at it and the giant bruise waisted no time forming. Michael's eyes went black for a few moments, him scanning over his own body to make sure nothing was broken. He blinked a few times, his eyes returning back to that ocean blue. "This is going to suck for the next couple of days. Where's Jim?"

"He stormed off." you said, fighting back your own tears. "Why can't you just listen?! What if you got seriously hurt."

"Y/N, I'm fine." Michael said sternly.

"He said he didn't want to hurt you, but you made him anyways, Michael." Michael fell silent, knowing good and well that this was his fault. He sighed, groaning as he laid his head back down against the floor, holding onto his side.

In their bedroom, Jim was a teary-eyed mess as he paced back and forth, pulling at his own hair as his cheeks puffed in and out. He had hurt Michael. He knew he did and that's exactly what he didn't want to do. He heard his scream when he fell to the ground. He heard the tear of his muscle as he pulled his arm back over his head and he still didn't stop.

"Fuck." he said to himself as he peeled his shorts off, heading into their bathroom. Their shower, big enough to have a small party in, wall seats, he stepped into, making the water all the way hot. He stood under the water, rinsing the first layer of sweat off, letting his tears fully flow. Not wanting to hear himself cry, he turned on the shower stereo, blasting music as the water changed different colors due to the stereo lights. He rested his head against the shower wall, reaching for the bottle of shampoo when he heard the shower door open.

"Y/N.." he called out. "Is... is... is he okay?"

"No." a voice said, that wasn't yours. "But he will be." Jim bit down on his lip hard as the tears continued to flow.

"Michael I'm so sorry.. I didn't want to. I told you..."

"Sssh." Michael said, limping over to Jim who happened to be by one of the wall seats. He sat down, still holding onto his side. "I pushed you too far, Jim. You did nothing wrong, okay?" Jim looked over at Michael and noticed the large bruise that his so desperately tried to hide.

"I did that, didn't I?" Jim asked, getting riled up again.

"Jim, no, no. It's okay. I promise."

"Don't fucking lie to me, Michael. I- I- I- did that to you!"

"Accidents happen Jim! I know you didn't mean to. I provoked you. I will deal with the consequences of my actions."

"You know, you're not so easy to fucking deal with." Jim said, pacing back and forth in front of Michael.

"I know." Michael groaned as he shifted in his seat, getting some if the hot water on him. He moaned softly as the pulsating jets soothed a small amount of pain in his side "C'mere." Jim stepped directly in front of Michael, getting down on his knees to wedge his way in between his legs. "I appreciate the gesture, but I want you to sit next to me." He listened, carefully getting up as to not slip and fall and joined Michael. He placed his hand softly on Jim's thigh, rubbing it with his thumb.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you, Jim?" Michael asked, staring at his lover.

"No, honestly." Jim answered. "I'm just some fucked up kid from Palos Verdes."

"Jim Mason, don't you ever say that to me again."

"Well it's true."

"I fell in love with you because your soul is still so pure. You have a lot of heart Jim that goes beyond just loving Y/N and I. You're passionate about things. Don't look at this bruise as an attack on me. This is a remind that no one should ever fuck with Jim Mason, right?" Jim stayed silent, tears still running down his face, causing Michael to squeeze his thigh, probing for an answer. "Right?"

"Right." Jim said back, knowing that Michael doesn't like to wait for answers. He took his hand from Jim's thigh, patting his lap. "I don't wanna-,"

"I didn't ask you whether or not you wanted to hurt me. I asked you to sit in my lap." Jim, slowly made his way over to Michael's lap. Michael groaning as Jim sat back again him.

"I can get up." Jim said, but Michael firmly wrapped his arm around his waist.

"There's no need for that." Michael placed soft kisses along his back, causing Jim to shiver despite being warm from the water. "So precious. My Jim."

"Your Jim." Jim confirmed, causing Michael to smile against his back. "Please don't make me do that again."

"I won't." Michael grabbed Jim's throat, tilting his head back so that their blue eyes met each other's. "But what I will do, Jim Mason, is fuck you senseless in this shower." Jim whined, not only from the pressure his neck, but from the seriousness in Michael's voice and the feel of his growing erection against his bare ass. "You tease me all the time with those little MMA shorts you wear, so tight against your skin, basically begging for one of us to humiliate you."

"Are you guys really about to have fun without me?" you asked, pouting as you opened the shower door, immediately wet by the sight. Michael chuckled softly against Jim's neck, tongue gracing over his jugular, causing Jim's breathing to speed up.

"And look who has made it just in time. Do you still want to show me how fun it is to be hands on?"

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid

#cody fern #cody fern imagine #michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon smut #jim mason #jim mason imagine #jim mason smut #jim mason x reader #michael langdon x reader #tribes of palos verdes #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #outpost michael

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sleepymarmot · 3 years ago

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Mad Max: Fury Road

I was in the mood for a feminist action movie. Got precisely what I expected as someone who spent all of 2015 on Tumblr.

This is the second most comic book-like movie I’ve ever seen after Spiderverse! And it’s not even based on comic books...

I’m not familiar with the franchise, but there was a lot of “Oh here comes this line/scene I’ve seen online”. Especially in the beginning, when there was so little dialogue that I’d heard half of it quoted before.

Not sure about the dialogue tbh. Some of it is just jarring to hear from real human beings’ mouths.

Why do the Buzzards speak Russian lmao. Like I know Hollywood loves Russians as warlike villains but tf are they doing in post-apocalyptic Australia

Was surprised when Max didn’t shoot Nux immediately after getting free from him at the beginning of the movie. It worked out well eventually, but what motivation did he have back then to leave an enemy alive?

So how was Furiosa planning to deal with the gang in the canyon before Max came along?

The non-stop action becomes overwhelming pretty quickly, I was ready to wrap it up after the first hour. I’d prefer more breaks between separate action scenes instead of having them right after one another — it’s tiring, and there’s no hype of a fresh action sequence starting. Though I’m not sure even that would have compensated for how monotonous the whole experience is. Yes, I know it’s an action movie, but to me action is not only chases and fights but exciting plot developments and a variety of set pieces.

I’ve seen people react to criticisms of the plot with “But don’t you understand, it’s an important message that they have to go back!” And it’s true re: the movie’s message, but it doesn’t undo the fact that the plot is light and its structure may be unsatisfying to people who expect the final part of the film to escalate the conflict, widen the scope, or use a plot twist to turn the story upside down. I’m reminded of The General — another almost wordless movie mostly consisting of a stunt-filled chase that reverses direction... Oh wait, googling shows it’s a common comparison, and the director said he was inspired by the silent cinema. Funnily enough, when I watched The General, I had the opposite complaint: I got bored whenever the chase wasn’t on...

This movie got a lot of praise for not directly showing the sexual violence against the rescued girls, that was in fact one of the reasons I wanted to watch it. The film seems to take the same approach to gory injuries and deaths during the fight scenes, which I’m normally all for... Except the camera is so polite it’s sometimes difficult to understand what just happened. Like with the pregnant girl who got run over — I sat here wondering: is Max being an unreliable narrator when he’s confirming her death? is that her corpse? oh she’s still breathing? oh i guess she dies anyway. Same with Immortan Joe’s death — from the context it seems Furiosa attached her prosthetic to the wheels and then to his mask, tearing his face apart, but I absolutely couldn’t catch her actually doing that. Also instead of the refusal to glorify violence, it feels like its own kind of making violence more palatable. It’s okay when Batman or Captain America hit people as long as they don’t immediately kill them or draw blood; it’s okay to throw people under the wheels or set them on fire as long as you don’t see what it does to their bodies. Don’t worry, the violence will look clean and cool and only make you feel elated, never disturbed.

Teared up a couple of times, the most memorable one was when Furiosa met the female bikers.

Feel bad about almost(?) all of the cool older ladies dying :(

The romantic tension between Nux and the redhead girl felt unnecessary tbh. At first I thought her compassion for him was a precursor of a reveal that they were brother and sister, with only a small physical difference deciding their fate between being raised for a golden cage vs being raised for an early violent death.

When the bikers met the rescued girls and started touching their clean smooth bodies in disbelief and one of them said “Where did you find such creatures?”... That was a pang of hurt and disappointment, even betrayal. I had to tell myself it’s realistic with how old women sometimes treat the young ones. But in the context of the film... The whole story is about escape from objectification. And now our rescuees meet truly independent women, a new community for them and an example of living free... and are met with a kind of objectification from them too.

I know this movie isn’t rich in characterisation in general, but the low degree of development afforded to the young women clashes with the pro-self-actualization anti-objectification message of the film. Women are not things! *spends the same amount of effort and focus on all of them put together as on a single white man who was hunting them* In terms of the narrative, basically there are 4 “good guys”: Max, Furiosa, Nux, and the young women. Another part of the problem is that they’re more static than the other three. Max starts the movie as a feral lone wolf and ends it as an articulate team player; Furiosa starts dreaming of the escape to the Green Place and ends with the reality of returning to the Citadel and reclaiming it; Nux starts hoping to sacrifice himself to capture the women and ends sacrificing himself to help them escape. The young women start hoping to be free from Joe and end... being relieved they’re free from Joe because someone else killed him? The situation has changed but the characters have not.

Me at the very end: “Ohhh so him being a universal donor/“blood bag” was a Chekhov’s gun!” Superpower: has a lot of blood to spare!

Okay but they’ll soon have to stop the water flow right. It’s still a finite resource. I know the flowing water was supposed to be a happy sight but I was like “Oh god don’t pour it all out for a symbolic gesture. When they’ll have to pause and ration it for pragmatic reasons aren’t they gonna have a riot on their hands”

Obligatory acknowledgement of the detailed dieselpunk visuals and worldbuilding, the themes of female liberation and solidarity between victims, and also everything about Furiosa in general. Curious that the power fantasy here is not only in escaping and defeating your oppressors and reclaiming the place where they kept you, but also in the possibility of convincing men to fight against the patriarchy instead of being on its side (Nux) or on their own (Max).

‘Playing Furiosa as a hard-edged warrior out for revenge was more interesting to Theron than playing her as a flawless heroine with a heart of gold. “The idea that she’s kind of saving these women to me just didn’t feel as interesting as they belong to a man who hurt her incredibly, and she’s just had enough. And she’s gonna take these women with her. She’s gonna take what matters to him the most,” Theron says.’ Well, that 1) absolutely wasn’t worked into the movie itself, where Furiosa was shown in exclusively noble and heroic light, 2) kinda ruins it for me.

#mad max fury road #observation #liveblogs and reviews #blah blah blah

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ineverlookavvay · 4 years ago

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good enough

After Michael experiences some self-doubt, Alex reassures him that he is enough

Fill for Kinktober Day 13: Body Worship

cw: mental health issues - Michael has a brief moment of panic/self-doubt at the beginning and is reassured via sex

Read it on Ao3

It came on suddenly. They were sitting watching some terrible network television show, Alex’s head cradled in Michael’s lap, when one of the characters was in an accident and no one around had the right blood type including the love interest, leading to a cliff-hanger of the absolute worst-written type. And suddenly, while a terrible pop song played over the end credits, Michael’s chest started to feel tight.

He swallowed around a suddenly dry throat, biting his lip and trying to ignore the feeling. It was just a stupid tv show, and there was nothing to feel anxious or unworthy about, and yet. It was just going to be one of those nights, and Michael was stuck here at Alex’s, with only the flask of acetone in his car and nothing harder than the beers Alex kept stocked in his fridge. He shifted uncomfortably, and Alex picked his head up, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?”

Michael nodded, pasting on a smile. “Great.” He swallowed the last third of the beer he’d been nursing and nudged Alex up. “I’m gonna get another beer.”

When he got back to the living room, holding a colder beer that wasn’t going to be nearly enough for him to pretend his thoughts weren’t spiraling just a bit, the tv was off and Alex was sitting up, looking worried.

Michael sat down, taking a swig of the beer and trying not to seem perturbed. Alex raised an eyebrow, and Michael sighed. “It’s just the show, when she couldn’t help him—”

Alex bit back a laugh. “You’re upset because she couldn’t help him…on the tv show?”

“Yeah—no—it’s just—if you were hurt like that, I couldn’t save you either. I can’t do the things another human could do for you—I couldn’t donate blood, or a kidney—I don’t know if I even have kidneys—“

“I think you have kidneys,” Alex cut in, “and Max can literally bring people back from the dead, so—”

“—and I’m not Max.” Michael sighed. “I can’t help you with the alien stuff, and I can’t be human for you, and it just seems pointless.”

Alex lurched forward, catching Michael’s wrist before he could take another swig from the beer. “What exactly are you saying?”

“What part of me is good enough for you?”

Alex closed his eyes, letting out a breath and dropping his grip from Michael’s wrist. When he opened his eyes again, he looked tired, and relieved. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”

Michael hesitated, then shook his head. “But I would understand if—I just want you to have someone who can save you from—”

“Soap opera cliff hangers?” Alex was smiling a little, and Michael tried to smile back, but his face felt too tight.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Alex watched him, a look of determination sweeping across his face. “Okay,” he said slowly, “Okay. You’re going to put down the beer, and we’re going to go into the bedroom.”

Michael frowned. “Alex, are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

“Yes.” Alex looked him directly in the eyes, unwavering, and Michael put the beer down on the coffee table obediently. “And I heard the parts you aren’t saying, too, and every part of you is good enough for me. So come to the bedroom and let me show you that.”

Alex held out his hand. Michael wanted to leave, he wanted to walk it off or drink it off, and hate himself until he felt empty, and then come crawling back; he wanted to stay. He took Alex’s hand and let Alex lead him into his bedroom.

He pressed Michael down onto the edge of the bed, sitting down beside him. “You are good enough, okay? It doesn’t matter that you’re not human, it doesn’t matter that you can’t save me from injury—you save me in other ways.”

Michael tried hard to smile. Alex was looking at him with this soft, caring expression, and Michael didn’t entirely know what to do with it—he felt like he was caught on a stage, under a spotlight, and he’d forgotten all of his lines.

Alex cupped Michael’s cheeks between his hands, and gently kissed him. “You know what I think about the first time I kiss you each day?” he asked, and Michael shook his head. “All the times I wanted to kiss you and I couldn’t. How lucky I am.” Michael scoffed and Alex smiled, leaning forward and kissing Michael’s forehead, then brushing his lips over each of Michael’s eyes, laughing lightly when Michael blinked up at him. “I’m being serious.”

Michael tried to breathe evenly as Alex pressed a kiss to his cheek, marking a line down Michael’s throat with his lips. Michael closed his eyes, licking his lips, focusing on the feeling of Alex’s soft kisses, on Alex’s hand smoothing up and down his back. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve any of it—not the way a human would, someone who was there for Alex completely, someone who actually belonged there—but he couldn’t make himself leave.

Alex abruptly changed the pattern of his kisses, sucking hard on the spot just under Michael’s ear, and then again on the skin where his neck met his shoulder until the skin started to bruise. Alex smoothed his hand over the bruise, looking completely enamored with it, breathing heavily. He tugged at Michael’s shirt, and Michael let him pull it off and toss it on the floor.

“It’s fully unfair,” Alex said, pressing kisses to Michael’s chest, slowly caressing his skin before touching his lips to it, “how good you always look like this.”

Michael swallowed. He didn’t know if Alex was talking about the hickey or the shirtlessness or all of it, and the praise went straight to his head, straight to his cock. He still felt tight, wound up, like he was imposing himself somehow, like he was tricking Alex into wanting him instead of something better. But Alex’s hands on his skin were soft, and reassuring, and when he licked across Michael’s nipple, Michael couldn’t stop himself from shivering.

Alex pressed Michael back until he was reclining on his elbows, and licked lines down Michael’s stomach, tracing the outlines of muscles and ribs, like he was reminding Michael of every visible part of him. He tucked his fingers around the waistband of Michael’s jeans, pulling them roughly away from Michael’s skin so that he could flick his tongue on the skin underneath, teasing at something more.

Michael was swiftly getting hard, the tension starting to bleed out of his chest, out of his shoulders, his focus on Alex, who was fully focused on him.

Alex pressed kisses to Michael’s stomach, cupping his cock through his jeans and looking up at Michael’s face lasciviously. “Feels just as good as any human,” he said, squeezing at Michael’s clothed cock gently until Michael moaned. “Better, even.”

Michael laughed hoarsely and Alex unbuttoned Michael’s jeans, leaning down to pull the zipper off with his teeth. Michael choked on his laugh, arousal overwhelming everything else.

He lifted his ass off the bed so that Alex could slip his jeans and briefs off him, letting them fall onto the floor with his shirt. It was strange, being so naked while Alex was still completely clothed, but strange in a good way, like Alex was so fixed on him that he had just forgotten to undress himself. Michael almost wanted to squirm under the attention, except that Alex wanted him to be still, Alex wanted him to relax and focus, and Michael wanted Alex to be happy, to have everything he wanted.

Alex scooted over on the bed, dragging Michael’s legs up until he was fully on the mattress, still leaning on his elbows, his head hovering over Alex’s pillows. Alex kneeled between Michael’s legs.

“You’re perfect,” Alex said, running his fingers lightly along one of Michael’s legs, from ankle to thigh, stopping just before he hit the crease between thigh and pelvis. “No one else is this perfect.”

Michael laughed again in a choked off way, trying to think of something to say, something that would undermine Alex’s uncomfortably positive words. Alex shot him a look and he closed his mouth, groaning instead when Alex replaced his hands with his mouth, kissing his way up Michael’s leg. Alex sucked on the skin at the top of Michael’s thigh, the sensation drawing all of Michael’s attention, focusing on the feeling of Alex’s tongue and lips and teeth on his skin.

Alex moved up, kissing towards the base of Michael’s cock, licking gently at it, in a way that almost tickled. He licked soft, slow lines up Michael’s cock, touching his tongue to every part of it before sucking lightly at the tip, his hands soothing lines over Michael’s thighs. Michael whined, watching Alex suck at the tip of his cock.

Too soon, Alex was pulling back, grinning up at Michael, spit or precum or both making his lips shiny. “Turn over,” he said gently, and Michael drew his knees up to his chest before rolling on his stomach and spreading his legs on either side of Alex again, pillowing his head on his hands. Alex hummed appreciatively.

Alex ran his fingers over Michael’s legs again, alternating between feather light and harder touches, stopping just before his ass. Michael was almost expecting it when he repeated the motions with his tongue, but he was still surprised how good it felt, having attention spent on his thighs, on the place where his legs met his ass—places they usually didn��t spend time on.

The touches disappeared and Michael tingled with anticipation. Alex’s hands smoothed over Michael’s ass, pulling and caressing. Michael inhaled quickly as fingertips ran down the crease of his ass, ghosting over his hole. Alex’s tongue followed his fingers, laving over Michael’s skin, licking gently and then more insistently at his hole. Michael thrust his hips unintentionally, rubbing his cock against the bed as Alex licked him, thrusting his tongue shallowly inside of Michael.

“Stay still,” Alex said, pulling away slightly as Michael moaned especially loudly. Michael did as asked, kept himself completely still even though he wanted to keep grinding against the bed, even though he wanted to turn around and see what Alex was doing. He found out when Alex returned, just a few minutes later, laying himself down on top of Michael so Michael could feel the touch of their skin from head to toe, Alex’s cock poking suggestively at his ass.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Alex said, his voice low and inches from Michael’s ear, “and you can use your incredibly useful and hot alien powers to get the lube out of the nightstand, and hold yourself open while I open you up.”

Michael made a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh. It was reassuring, and hot, and he wanted nothing more than Alex inside him as quickly as possible. He slid the drawer open with his mind and pulled out the lube, floating it back to Alex, who hummed and peeled himself slowly off of Michael’s back.

It was harder, using his powers on his own body, but not impossible, and Michael concentrated, holding his legs and his ass wide for Alex, keeping his muscles taut, more than he could by will alone as Alex pressed a wet finger inside of him.

It still surprised Michael, how Alex knew what he would need, how focusing like this would center him, would make things quiet inside of him. It was the concentration, and the methodical way Alex was fingering him, progressively getting deeper, keeping his thrusts at a set pace. Michael breathed, staying completely still even as Alex added more fingers and brushed against his prostate, even as his cock leaked against the bed, even as he wanted to tell Alex to hurry the fuck up and get inside of him.

As if he could read Michael’s mind, Alex pulled out his fingers and crawled up Michael’s body on the bed again, pressing kisses up his spine. “You can relax,” he said, sounding as affected as Michael felt, and Michael felt the tip of Alex’s cock nudging against him before he pressed in, slowly, making sure Michael felt every inch.

Alex groaned when he was completely inside of Michael, and Michael echoed it, exhaling forcefully. With Alex pressed against his back he couldn’t move much, could only take it as Alex shifted his hips and thrust into Michael.

Michael pulled his hands out from under his head, bracing them on the bed on either side of his head instead, looking for leverage. Alex reached over and pressed his hands against Michael’s, twisting their fingers together, sharing the leverage as he fucked Michael slowly.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Alex said softly, kissing Michael’s neck, and Michael whined. “You’re more than enough, Michael.”

Michael couldn’t think of anything to reply that didn’t sound sappy as fuck, so he kept quiet except for the moans he couldn’t hold back. Alex pressed his hands into the mattress and lifted himself slightly more, thrusting deeper, pumping his hips more quickly. Michael’s cock slid against the bed, and it wouldn’t have been enough except that Alex had the perfect angle for his cock to continually brush Michael’s prostate; except that Michael felt overwhelmed in the best way, so much of their skin touching he almost couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began; except that Michael slipped closer to the edge with every soft word of praise Alex whispered against his neck.

“So. Fucking. Good,” Alex said, panting between each word as he thrust hard into Michael, and Michael’s answering moan turned into a yell as he came, hips grinding into the mattress and back against Alex. Alex gasped as Michael instinctively clenched down on him, and his rhythm stuttered, thrusts quick and hard. He moaned into Michael’s ear as he came, too, spilling inside Michael.

They lay there, breathing hard, barely moving, and Michael realized all of the panic was gone, all of the feeling useless and not good enough, all of it swept away under the force of Alex’s response. It was good—better than what a bottle had ever given him.

Alex slowly pulled himself away from Michael, slipping out of Michael and collapsing on the bed next to him, rolling Michael onto his side so his head pillowed on Alex’s chest.

“Guess I should have crises of faith more often,” Michael said, his voice shaking slightly.

“You know I’m not just saying it, right?” Alex asked, “You really are amazing.” Michael smiled, keeping himself from shrugging, since he knew it would make Alex unhappy. “Plus, I like that I can help you like that,” Alex continued. “I like that loving you helps.”

Michael’s smile was more real this time. “I like that, too,” he said softly, and curled more tightly against Alex’s chest.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #my writing #smut and feelings

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lukepattrsn · 4 years ago

Text

netflix and the chilling art of ghost cuddling

Also on AO3.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Julie Molina’s neck was bent to an inhuman angle. She had been laying in between Luke and Reggie, at the top of her bed, for over four hours.

It was during times like these that she remembered her mom most clearly: she had always been the one to bug Julie about the lack of headboard where her bedroom furniture was concerned. She had been particularly vocal about Julie’s request—back when they were remodeling the house—for an extra wide window sill, so she could house her smaller plants where sunlight was most abundant.

Julie knew her strong personality came off as petulance sometimes, and she was sure her mom had thought as much when she insisted that she direct her incessant nagging over to her tio Joaquin, when time came to finish the trimming for her room. Although Julie’s ego was well fed when her uncle adhered to her specifications, she was faintly aware that the pain she currently felt could very well be, in some form or another, her mother coming to collect for having been right all those years back and still swallowing all of her child’s dissent.

So, yeah. Julie’s plants were hydrated and healthy, and had a lovely sunlit home above her sea of pillows—but her neck was absolutely destroyed. No amount of cushioning could do away with the protruding casing of the massive window behind her bed.

The entire situation was weird, too. The boys were still ghosts in that they were still invisible to others aside from when they were on stage with Julie, but they had since gained the ability to become corporeal; so she could see them, and feel them, and hug them. And while their current reality was optimal for Julie’s sanity—being able to smack Reggie now and again had proven itself a hidden blessing—the air around them hung heavy with dread.

If they were still invisible to others, they still had unfinished business to tend to. And it was hard to think about that part; that every happy moment with them, every performance, was really just another step taking them closer to crossing over. Julie suspected that there wasn’t much personal choice involved in fulfilling the very purpose of one’s afterlife, and that the boys would probably disappear off to wherever it was that her mom went, becoming ultimately separated from her. That thought alone filled her with an overwhelming sense of urgency, a need to exhaust absolutely every last shred of creativity among the four of them, before they were gone from her completely.

For this reason it was more than a little nerve wracking that they chose to remain nestled atop Julie’s full mattress, all sprawled in an asynchronous pile, nearing the tail end of Return of the Jedi, and readying for their first viewing of The Phantom Menace—they would do Star Wars in release order, of course, because it was very important to Reggie to experience these movies like everybody else. She only felt a little traitorous in wishing they could be writing, or at least doing something to help their doomed situation.

Not to mention it was getting a little warm in the room, too. She wanted her fuzzy socks off so badly, but knew cuddling etiquette couldn’t possibly encompass that possibility. A little antsy, Julie shifted down slightly, so that her head would rest on a pillow edged in between herself and Luke’s chest, instead of continuing propped against the hardwood of her window sill. That caused a stir in Reggie, to her left, whose hand had become entwined with hers halfway through the first film due to equal parts sheepish excitement and a need to feel ‘human warmth’— his words.

“Seriously, Julie, hang in there. This is 25 years in the making.”

Reggie’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. From the floor cushions to the right of her bed, Julie could hear an amused laugh escape Alex. She considered the risks of peering over Luke’s mountainous arms to where her blondest friend resided, last she saw he was still all luscious pale hair and pink sweatshirts; but that felt too intrusive now. At some point in the night Julie suspected Willie had joined them. She had heard some rustling, had noticed a certain look exchanged between Luke and Reggie, and then again between the two and Alex; but it was only when they started waving to a spot in the room that looked totally empty to her that her suspicions were confirmed.

She knew now how Flynn must feel around the boys. Sort of. The band, at least, materialized on stage. Willie was still entirely elusive to Julie.

Once, after the ordeal with Caleb had settled and they had been able to reconnect, she had asked Luke to describe him to her, but all he had said was “he skates,” and that she would “totally know the type.” Completely useless. Since then she had been able to compile some additional information from the boys that allowed a more conclusive picture to form in her head—Willie wore cool cropped tees which Reggie was envious of, was all sharp angles, golden skin and cascading black hair (that one came from Alex), and he giggled, a lot. It was all very endearing, if not for the fact that every time Willie came around Julie felt a tiny pang of resentment for the fact that the boys had almost been taken from her because of Alex’s involvement with him. She was working hard to do away with those feelings, because Willie made Alex happy, but not being able to address it directly, because she couldn’t see or hear him, made the situation all the more difficult. It made her feel a little vulnerable, too, to be seen but not be able to see him.

But that was just where things were right now, and she had to deal with it.

“Fine,” she grumbled, shifting her weight slightly.

Two seconds later she felt a solid thump against her head.

Startled, Julie looked toward the direction it came from, only to be faced with an open-mouthed Luke, seemingly significantly less interested in the Star Wars universe and suddenly very obviously asleep. He could do that now? Sleep? The rules of their existence were both unclear and inconsistent to Julie. She turned toward Luke a little more, making sure not to disturb Reggie’s grasp on her left hand, and took a short moment of her time to study the stillness of his features. Stoic brows, shaggy brown hair, perfectly curved lips. If he were drooling a little she would have to overlook it. He had shifted to match her earlier movements, and his right hand had fallen from where it rested behind his head, directly dropping onto Julie’s. They were in an impossible position now, and the slightest maneuver from Julie only served to nestle his fingers further into her hair. She was effectively being cupped by his right arm; her chin gently nudged in the space between his right bicep and forearm. She was pretty close to nuzzling the inner part of his elbow, and it felt really weird, but also sort of nice. After they played the Orpheum, she had been sure the boys were lost to her forever. Finding them in her garage, somehow nourishing their livelihoods, was nothing short of a miracle. Since then she vowed to relish in any form of touch she could get from them. From Luke. Any way to connect with him and to legitimize his role in her life felt very valid and very important, so she let herself freeze in that position.

And while to Julie this whole movie marathon idea had originally felt like a waste of their time and resources, the scene unfolding in her bedroom made it much easier to understand the necessity behind this moment of serenity shared between herself and the boys, especially for them. Her boys—who loved music so much they came back to life. If being a present and willing fountain of warmth and friendship for them was what they needed, and if doing so landed her in Luke’s arms every now and again, she could hardly take issue with it.

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