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disasterdeacy · 6 years ago

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Anything You Ask

A/N: Okie, so quite a few people, like 7 of y’all requested an early 70s Bri fic, and like 4 of those requests were specifically asking for Tenerife, so HERE YA GO! S/O to Tori @meddows-taylors for helping me with this in our RP, ilysm bitch. Word Count: 13.9k (y’all idk) Pairing: Brian May x Reader Time Frame: 1970 Summary: Y/N and Brian have been friends and research partners for 2 years, but on a trip to Tenerife, everything changes Warnings: 18+, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Unprotected Sex, Like, Graphic Unprotected Sex, Wrap it Before You Tap it, Someone Get These Kids Some Gatorade and a Ciff Bar.

God, you hated planes, trains, busses, fuck, and at this point absolutely anything that wasn’t a stable mattress in a cool room.

The plane ride from London to Tenerife had been long, hot, cramped, and extremely uncomfortable, but it hadn’t been uncomfortable for the reason most people would think. No, it had honestly been quite roomy despite the cramped nature. It was uncomfortable because you had been sat next to resident shy boy, probable love of your life, and angel faced baby, Brian May.

The curly haired boy and you had been friends for a little over two years, meeting in your first PhD level course after graduating from Imperial with our Bachelors. You’d been instantly intrigued by the man, the way he dressed screamed “Extrovert with a wild sense of humor and definitely could rock your world when given the chance” and yet, when you spoke to him that morning, he couldn’t even hold your gaze, his long fingers instead focused on picking fuzz off of the red velvet of his trousers.

Brian May was an enigma wrapped in a goddamn paradox... and you are 347% certain that you are head over heels in love with him. When the two of you had decided to do a joint dissertation on the radial velocities of zodiacal light, you both knew that you would be spending an insane amount of time together, most of it in Spain. You had been overjoyed at the prospect, desperate to spend as much time possible with the sweet demure boy, and yet here you were. Your body was practically on fire as the two of you headed to our hotel, where Brian had only managed to get a single room, cramped in the backseat of the taxi we’d hailed from the taxi rank outside the airport.

His hair smelled like orange blossoms, that’s all you could think… fucking hell, you were definitely screwed this trip.

Brian’s foot taps against the floor of the taxi, his long legs cramped in the small car as he tries to give you as much room as possible. He’s chewing nervously at his thumbnail as he watches the scenery go by. He was beyond excited to be here in Tenerife with you to work—you were a bloody genius and he admired you greatly. He knew the two of you would have an amazing time and do incredible research.

But he was also dreading it. Because you were the smartest, prettiest, funniest, loveliest person he’d ever met and he could barely even look at you without getting flustered! Roger teased him about it endlessly, but he couldn’t help it.

When the taxi pulls up to the hotel, Brian unfolds himself out of the car, immediately going to gather the bags. He gets yours, too, smiling bashfully at you. “No, I’ve got it! You go in and get the room keys.”

He can’t help but look you up and down as you walk away from him, before he quickly averts his eyes from your ass, feeling guilty.

‘Jesus, Brian. Control yourself.’ He scolds himself as he follows you inside, strategically holding the suitcases in front of his lap...

A large smile and small blush overtakes your face upon Brian insisting on getting your bag. Goddamnit, could he be anymore perfect? You hold up your hands in mock surrender and headed inside the hotel, sighing in relief as the AC hit you like a brick. Tenerife was hot, it was July, and you were NOT about to sweat your ass off in front of Brian for the next, who knows how long... you’d not exactly booked return flights.

Strolling up to the front desk you smile at the attendant, giving them Brian’s name and expecting everything to be in order. He’d called 4 months earlier and booked a double room, just to save some money, you’d been the one to suggest it.. just.. hoping that maybe, JUST MAYBE Brian would finally see you in the same light that you saw him, if he was forced to room with me.

“Hola! Um.. reservation for May.” The lady at the desk simply smiled you, opened her book, highlighted the aforementioned reservation, handed you two keys, and wished you a good time. Everything seemed all nice and normal, until you arrived at the door to the room. Brian was already there waiting for you, sitting languidly on your suitcase, picking at his nails. He hadn’t noticed you.

“You know, you’re going to end up ripping your nail clean off if you keep doing that Bri. “

His head shoots up to look at you, loose curls bouncing, and he stands quickly—just narrowly missing smashing his head against the door frame.

He blushes like mad, though he grumbles at you, at least the banter was safe and familiar territory.

“I can study the stars without a thumbnail.”

He jokes, but stops picking at it in order to move the bags out of your way as you unlock the door.

He walks in, stopping short when he sees the single bed

“Oh.”

Christ, he’d forgotten all about it, they’d booked this trip so far in advance. God, he had to share the bed with you. Fuck. Maybe he could take the floor? No, that would seem rude. And weird. Friends shared beds all the time, right?

You roll your eyes at Brian’s comment, shaking my head a bit as you opened the door, mouth dropping a little in shock when you see the single bed. Oh fuck, you’d completely fucking forgotten it wasn’t a fucking double room.. You completely sympathized with Brian’s little oh, because that’s.. um....

“I-I can go down and see if they have another room if you want.. if they have a double room?”

You really didn’t want to, you wanted to sleep in the same bed as Brian, wanted to.. god you just wanted to fucking cuddle with him! How lame is that.

“I-um, I don’t mind it, but if you’re uncomfortable with it, I completely understand..” You are leaning against the bathroom door, picking at your own nails now.. a little nervous for what he was going to say.

He shakes his head quickly, not wanting to cause any problems “No!”

The word is nearly squeaked out, and he takes a moment to clear his throat, trying to seem calm. “No, this is fine. As long as my feet don’t hang off the bed.”

The joke is a weak one, but he’s thankful that you huff out a soft laugh. He sets the bags down and looks at you; it’s obvious you’re nervous. He looks at his toes “Be honest with me, Y/N, I can pay for another room, really.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you move from the doorframe to stand in front of him, taking his hands in yours..God his fingers were so long..

“No! No, I-I want to sleep with you!”

You mentally cursed yourself for the way that sounded, and while it might’ve been true, that didn’t mean you should’ve yelled that out loud!

“I-I just mean, I don’t mind at all Brian... “ You let out a light chuckle, trying to redeem yourself and make your words seem less creepy.

“As long as you don’t mind me cuddling you like a baby koala while I sleep, I’m perfectly content with the hand that we’ve been dealt... and anyway, if your feet hang off the bed, mine will too.” God, you were still holding his hand, he probably thought you was some kind of freak.. he was too good for you anyway, too... perfect.

His cheeks are bright red he knows, but he nods, chuckling a little. “Not if I koala cuddle you first.”

He smiles at you, trying to salvage SOME of the situation. Looking warily over at the bed, he rubs his neck sheepishly, blush only deepening when he thinks of you pressed against him in the morning.. Clearing his throat, he claps his hands together, making you jump just a little. “I mean it looks nice at least.”

You breathe a little sigh of relief, blushing like mad when he mentions cuddling you. God, he was the single most adorable human being to ever walk the planet, and he really didn’t know it did he?

“I’m willing to place cold hard cash on the fact that we’re going to get some serious sleep on that bed Brian. “ Winking at him, you make a run for the bed, throwing yourself on it, a moan falling from your lips as the comfort envelops you. “God, Bri, come feel this bed, it’s orgasmic.”

Brian bites his lip at your moan, yelling at himself in his head to CHILL OUT!!!! He strides over, trying to pretend he was confident and not freaking out at all. When he flops onto the bed, however, he can’t help but groan, his body relaxing into the mattress. “Goddamn.”

Stretching out he smiles, pleased to find that he actually fit on the bed. Laughing at his reaction, you nod into the pillow and flip onto your stomach, eyes trained on Brian’s almost angelic profile. His unruly hair was fanned out around his head in an almost halo way, eyes closed, lashes dancing over his cheeks, his nose.. god, the amount of times you’d fantasied about having his nose prodding your clit while he ate you out.. stop it!

God Y/N, you need to calm the fuck down.. there’s no way someone like him would like you, no fucking way, but.. he did blush a lot around you... lose his ability to speak..

Pursing your lips, you dare to scoot a little closer to him, boldly taking his hand in yours and bringing it close to your face to inspect. “Ya know Bri, it’s almost not fair that your hands are so pretty.” Hey, you were gonna shoot your shot, and if you needed to bounce off the court, you would.. You only just wanted to get him flustered, make him want you as much as you wanted him. God, he was probably a Virgin, and for some reason that fact just... fuck... it was so hot.

He startles a little at your touch, turning his head to look at you, hazel eyes wide. “Uh, Th-thank you. I take care of them, you know, because they... they get messed up when I play. The guitar I mean. I don’t use a pick.”

He knows he’s rambling but he can’t stop. He’s staring at the way your hand is holding his; at how close your lips are to his skin. Lowering yourself a little closer to him, your chin almost resting on his shoulder as I play with his hands, you dance your fingers across the cool skin. Raising your eyes to his for a second, you feign surprise. “Last time I saw you play, I knew something was different with you.. no wonder your hands are so... hot.” You lean down to place a kiss to his calloused finger tips, eyes never leaving his, your tongue darting out to lick at his middle finger just a little. The way his face was flushed, chest heaving, his mouth wide open, you immediately knew that you had him. Hook, line, and sinker.

But you couldn’t give him everything he wanted now, everything you wanted.. no... you had to play this out, make him beg. So, placing one final kiss to his knuckle, you flip over in the bed, pulling the covers over you. “Think I’m gonna take a nap, okay Bri? Just wake me if you need something baby.”

Brian swears he stops breathing for a second, mouth hanging open, cock chubbing up in his corduroys. He’s dead still when you roll over, it takes him a minute for his brain to reboot. Rushing out a hurried “okay,” mentioning something about taking a shower, he hops from the bed stumbling into the bathroom. He shuts the door and turns on the shower, then frantically works at his belt, his hands fumbling. God, he needed a wank and he needed it NOW. He was embarrassingly hard, just from your fleeting touches... it was a little pathetic.

You can’t help but smile at Bri’s frantic escape to the bathroom, warmth pooling between you legs as you hear his belt hit the tile flooring of the bathroom. He wasn’t exactly a quiet man, his whimpers and moans seeping from behind the closed door of the bathroom.

Sure, he had turned on the shower, but he was obviously far too horny, too worked up, to know that his noises were far louder than he had intended for them to be. Deciding to continue your torture of Brian, you slide out of the bed, out of your clothes and bra, and back into the bed in nothing but your panties. Brian let out a choked sob in the bathroom, and a few moments later, the shower shut off, making you smile and turn over onto my stomach, ass on full display for him as you feigning sleep. He desperately tries to be quick and quiet, just doing the job efficiently before cleaning up, scrubbing his hands clean. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, cringing at his flushed cheeks. But he has to come out of the bathroom sometime. So he steadies himself and walks out..he’s nowhere near prepared for the sight he’s greeted with. Brian stares at your ass, then trails up your bare back, noting the lack of a bra. He digs his nails into the meat of his palms, begging his body to behave. Maybe he’d go read in the lobby or something. Somewhere he could distract himself from you. He doesn’t know how to make a move, or if you even want him to. And if you wanted to nap, he didn’t want to get in the way. Hearing the sharp intake of breath come from the doorway of the bathroom, you have to stop yourself from smiling into the pillow, determined to continue acting as if you were asleep, wanting to see what Brian would do. But for a long while, he didn’t move, only stood at the door You could feel his eyes on you, burning your skin as he just stared... He really was clueless wasn’t he?

Mentally groaning, you flip over in the bed, still feigning sleep, exposing your breasts and clothed pussy to him, moaning a little as you did so. “Uh.. B-Brian..”

You’re sure to make your voice as breathy and sleep ridden as possible, attempting to make him believe that you were simply dreaming... just HOPING he would react.

“Jesus.” Brian whimpers the word out loud, his voice breaking. He’s telling himself to give you privacy, to look away—if you’re asleep, you’ve not consented to him seeing and hearing all this. But it’s like he’s transfixed. I mean, fuck, he’s never even seen a girl’s tits before now. He’s still, hardly breathing, his cock making a valiant effort to get hard again. Finally, he steps forward, trying to be polite. He grabs the throw blanket at the end of the bed and pulls it over you, but not before trailing his fingertips over the soft skin over your ribs, right under your tits. He can’t help himself, trying to convince himself it was just him tucking you in.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as Brian pulled the blanket over you, his fingers dancing along your ribs, so innocent, yet causing your whole body to feel as if lightning was running through your veins in the place of blood. While you were a little disappointed that he’d not made an obvious move on you, you couldn’t help but be absolutely enamored and amazed at his actions. Most men would’ve just absolutely went to town, but not Brian.. no, he was far too sweet for that, and it made a colony of butterflies take up residence in your stomach.

Curling into the blanket that Brian had wrapped around you, you open your eyes just a little, smiling up at Bri’s wide eyes. “Come lie down Bri, you have to be dead tired.. take a nap with me love.”

You turn over, facing his side of the bed, just wanting him to be with you, sleep with you in the most innocent way imaginable. He just nods, no hesitation when he obeys you. He’s still nervous, but you looked so soft and sleepy and pretty. So he takes off his shoes, socks, and belt—but leaves his pants and shirt on. Then he clambers onto the bed beside you, on top of the covers facing you. He doesn’t want to cross a line he shouldn’t, so he just nuzzles his head into the pillow, eyes trained on your face.

Feeling the bed dip next to you, you open your eyes just slightly, smiling as they meet Bri’s own hazel ones. “Come here silly boy, I told you I wanted to koala cuddle you.” You curl up further to Brian, resting your head on his chest, tucking yourself firmly under his chin.

Hesitantly, he wraps an arm around you, trailing his fingertips up and down your back. It’s a bit before he finally relaxes, but he does, eventually pulling the main blanket over both of you “Comfortable?”

You moan a bit at the feeling of Brian’s delicate ministrations on your back, his calloused fingertips felt like pure sweet sin. “Y-yeah, you’re very cozy Brian.”

You place a chaste kiss to his neck as you nuzzle your face further into him, surrounded by the smell of orange blossoms. “Smell so good Bri...” His breath catches, heart speeding up at the feeling of your lips on his skin. He pulls you tighter against him, his other hand coming to rest on your hip.

Brian hesitates before slowly slipping his fingers under the waist band of your underwear, just resting his hand on the bare skin of your hip, not daring to do anything else. “Th-thank you.”

His mind whirls, trying to come up with a reasonable response to your compliment “It’s my, uh, shampoo. My friend told me it would be good for curly hair.”

You chuckle against his skin at his awkward endearingness. “Maybe you can let me borrow some yeah? That way my hair can look and smell as nice as yours..”

You allow your hands slid down a little, resting on his bony hip, much like his hand was resting on your own... not so bony hip. He sucks in a breath at my action, his fingers digging into your hip, causing you to wrap your legs around his.

“This okay? You’re just too irresistible to not wrap myself around.” You place another kiss to his neck, closer to his ear, your voice soft and gentle, not wanting to scare him away.

Brian’s eyelids flutter shut when you kiss him again, and he shudders, pulling you closer by your hip, breathing shallow. “Y-Y/N” His voice is airy and soft, almost desperate. “Y/N, what.... what’s going on?”

When you shift, your bare breasts brush against his chest, and he’s embarrassed at the whimper his lets out. He’s wearing a T-shirt but he can still feel the hardness of your nipples.

Brian’s soft voice pulls you from your mind and your lips from his neck, eyes meeting his a little shocked by his question... Hell, you didn’t even know what was going on... Well, you did, but honestly, you’d not given much thought to what was going to actually happen if he wanted this. Sitting up just a bit, you rest your breasts completely on his chest, your eyes never leaving his.

Taking a deep breath, you decide that you’d might as well spill your feelings, you were practically naked on top of the poor boy... One would think that would be plenty for him to see what was happening, after all, he was the most intelligent person you knew.

“Brian.. love, I think it’s pretty obvious what’s going on... I’m trying to seduce you.” You drop your lips to his, barely grazing the pouty objects that you’d been so enraptured by for months.

“As long as you’re.. as long as you’re okay with that...” He’s frozen for a moment before he nods, curls swaying.

“Y-yes I’m... that’s okay.” He closes his eyes, embarrassed by himself “I just, I’m—I’ve never, uh...”

You just know that your face is red, not out of embarrassment, but out of sheer arousal and desire to fuck this poor innocent boy into next week. God, he WAS a Virgin..

Sitting up completely, not even bothering to cover yourself, you glue your hands to his face, fingers caressing his bright red cheeks. “Hey, look at me Bri.. it’s okay.. it’s.. um..”

You chuckle a little breathlessly, surprised that he’s gotten you so excited and wet by just telling you that your initial assumption was correct. “It’s fucking hot Brian. I think everything about you is fucking hot, but.. this,” Sucking in a breath, you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips once again, the feeling of utter pleasure and relief that maybe he felt the same way about you flooding your system.

“I’ve wanted this for so long Brian.. wanted YOU for so long.”

His brows knit, completely surprised by your confession. “Really?”

The poor boy simply couldn’t fathom that you’d actually want him—especially with him being a virgin. When you nod, his hand on your hip tightens a little.

“I’ve wanted you too. Ever since I met you. I just... didn’t think you’d ever go for someone like me.” He leans in, trying to glean up some confidence, and kisses you softly, wanting more than just the teasing pecks you’d been giving him.

You sigh into Bri’s kiss, a bit surprised by how.. well he was doing.

The kiss was soft, delicate, and yet it still made your insides feel like hot soup. His pillow soft lips were pressing into yours a little harsher as you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, your tits brushing against his chest. Your lips never left his, and his hands never left your hips.

“We’ll take it at your speed Bri okay? And if you decide you don’t want to continue, or you would just rather cuddle.. that’s perfectly fine with me too.. I just,” You nuzzle your nose against his as you speak, hands moving to his hair, pulling just a bit at the roots. “Want to be good to you.”

Brian nods, groaning a little when you pull his hair. “Th-That feels good.”

His voice is soft, and his cheeks are pink when he looks up at you, eyes roaming your body “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

His hands squeeze your hips gently; he just liked the feel of them in his palms. They fit perfectly.

You sigh into his touch, his long delicate fingers rubbing circles over your hips.. You weren’t exactly small in any sense of the word, definitely not as small as Brian, you were a meaty girl. You had curves, belly rolls, you jiggled. You’d also never been self conscious over the way your body looked, but for some reason Brian’s soft fingers, and even softer gaze was making me feel on a different level. Placing one final kiss to his lips you lean up.

Careful not to rest all of your body weight on his legs, instead you balance your body on your own legs. He really was a tiny thing wasn’t he, and you just... weren’t…

“I-uh, I’m sorry if I’m not what you imagined your first time would be like.. I know I’m not exactly Twiggy or Jane Asher, but, um, I promise I’ll try and make it as memorable as possible.” Brian scoffs, pulling you down to sit on his legs.

“I don��t like them, I like you. You’re... fuck, Y/N, you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever fucking seen.” His hands slip up over your sides, feeling your curves, the slight give of your skin. “You are like a goddamn renaissance painting... I’d be honored to feel you..”

His lips move to your neck, pressing light kisses to the delicate skin, desperately wanting you to see yourself as he did, a goddess. “As long as you don’t mind that I’m a fucking skeleton.” It’s partly a joke, partly a real concern. He was bony and knobby everywhere it seemed; much too tall and awkward for anything.

You can’t help but heat up under his gaze, the way he was staring at you, the way his hands were gliding over your skin, feeling you completely. It made you feel far more special than you’d ever felt before. Scoffing at Brian’s words, you lean over and pulled him into a sitting position, you firmly in his lap, his back against the headboard of the bed, arms tight around you.

“You’re the cutest man in the world Brian May, and thinking about your little “skeleton” body all red and sweat under me has gotten me off more times than I care to admit.” Your hands were in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, fingernails just barely scraping the skin. You wanted to tease him, to get him all nice and worked up. “Have you ever seen a woman like this before Bri? Ever been able to... touch, and taste one?”

Brian moans at your touches; at your words. Never in a million years would he have thought you—YOU—would be into him. ANY of him. But hearing you say you’d imagined him? Jesus, he could feel his cock becoming interested already, even though he’d just wanked ten minutes ago. He tries to keep his voice steady when he answers your questions, eyes slipping shut.

“N—No, I’ve not... I’ve never.... I’ve just k-kissed before.” Smirking down at him, your hands fall a little to cup his cheeks.

“Hey, look at me pretty boy.” You move him to look into your eyes, smile never leaving your face. He was so goddamn cute, and you couldn’t believe he was allowing you to do this, that he WANTED you to do this.. “I want you to use this as an opportunity okay? I don’t want this to just be a fuck and done thing, I genuinely like you Bri, wanna be with you... be your girlfriend, meet your parents, make you shitty veggie loafs.”

You both chuckled, remembering the fiasco 3 months ago. The sounds of his laugh warms your heart, it was light and sweet, just like him. “Touch me bri.. you can do anything you want to me baby okay? Just.. do anything you want, anything you’ve ever dreamed of doing, I’m a blank canvas, you’re the painter okay?”

His eyes light up at your words, though more the middle part than the end. “I want to be with you too. Truly.”

He beams happily, arching his neck up to kiss you. When he pulls away he has to double check with you. “Are you.... sure? I might... I might need some guidance. I’m sorry.”

His gaze flits away again, embarrassed with himself. But you tell him not to apologize, and he nods, chewing on his bottom lip with his sharp canines. He works up the courage to move his hands upwards to cup your tits, squeezing them lightly. He loves the weight of them in his hands, how hard your nipples are against his palms. His eyes flutter shut as Brian’s hands move to my breasts, his curious fingers dancing across your nipples just enough for the action to take your breath away.

“B-Bri...” You can’t help the way his name falls from your lips, fingers tangling themselves in his hair. Fucking hell, he might not be the most experienced, but what he lacked in experience he was sure as hell making up for in fervor. “K-keep going love, you’re doing so good. Such a pretty boy..” Brian fidgets at the compliment, not sure how he feels about it. It makes his stomach twist in a weird way—but he thinks in a good way.

He gauges your reaction when he gently pinches one of your nipples; the gasp you let out makes him think you’re enjoying it. He does it a few times, but frowns when he sees how red he’s made the little bud. Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s ducking his head to take it into his mouth, tongue lapping at it to soothe the sting.

Your head falls back when Brian attaches himself to my nipple, his tongue licking little circles around the bud. “G-god! Bri! Fuck baby...”

Your mouth is as wide as your eyes as you look down at him, his own hazel eyes full of innocent curiosity and something else. Grinding your hips against his, you gasp at the feeling of his cock straining under the zipper. “C-can I touch you baby? Are you okay with that?” His lips had moved to your other breast, hand moving into the back of your underwear, cupping your ass. He groans around your nipple in his mouth, squeezing your ass kinda hard. Jesus, you were so fucking hot. He couldn’t believe he was getting to do this with you... have you be his first, and hopefully his last. “Y-yes. Yes, you can touch, me, I’m—“

He pushes his face into the valley between your breasts, panting a little. “God, I love your ass. It looked so fucking good in the pants you were wearing today, I couldn’t help myself from staring.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts from your throat at his words, dropping your head onto his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Yeah? You like my fat ass do you Bri?”

You trail your hands down his body, quickly unzipping his jeans and shoving your hand down his underwear, firmly grasping his cock... Your eyes widen slightly when you feel just his big he is... You certainly were NOT expecting that.

“Does my ass make your cock nice and hard baby? I didn’t take you for an ass man pretty boy.” Your lips were on his neck again, biting down just a little.

Brian nods quickly, his other hand slipping down to grip your ass too. “Fucking love it, I—ah!”

He cries out when you touch his cock, and he tenses, pressing his face into your neck. “Oh god—fuck, that’s—“ He’s trying to get ahold of himself, but Jesus, just you touching him felt incredible. He’s never had anyone else touch him before, and it... it was much different from touching himself “Yes it makes me h-hard, Y/N, bloody hell.”

Your lips don’t halt their assault on Brian’s neck, only sped up and sucked harder, desperate to mark him, to show the world that he was yours. His cock was positively throbbing in your hand, precum almost soaking you completely. “God that’s so fucking hot Brian.. my ass,” You reach around and grab his hands in yours, squeezing your ass.

“My tits,” You move his hands to your chest and repeat the action.

“My cunt...” His breath caught in his throat, and a whimper choked in his throat as you shove his hands down your underwear, the wetness of your vagina soaking both of your hands.

“They’re all yours Brian.. all of them.. just for you my sweet pretty boy.” Brian shudders, letting a long, drawn out whine fall from his lips. He rubs over your cunt with his palm, smearing your wetness around.

“God, Y/N... I—can you h-help me? I want to make you feel so good, please.” He is positively desperate, your heat and wetness was driving him insane. He knows about what to do in theory, but doing it in practice was daunting. He had no idea where to start.

Nodding frantically, you climb off of his lap and lie down beside him, whining a bit at the loss of his fingers. “Yes baby, here let me show you. Just watch what I do and when you’re ready, you just repeat what I do okay?”

Brian only nods, mouth wide, and you slip off your underwear, tossing the spoiled fabric into his lap. Turning around a bit, you fluff the pillows and settle myself down into them, squirming for a minute or so before you get fully comfortable, eyes never leaving Brian’s. His cock was straining against his pants, it didn’t look comfortable at all.

You move your hands between your legs, and use one to play with your clit, the other moving further down to play with your leaking entrance. “Bri, love, why don’t you strip down okay? I’m sure your cock would feel so much better if it wasn’t so... constricted!” With your final word, you plunge your fingers into your hot cunt, hips bucking off of the bed at the feeling.

“F-fuck! Are you watching sweet boy? Watch me closely honey. God, I bet your fingers are going to feel so magical inside of me.. they’re so long and delicate Bri.. c-can’t tell you how often I’ve watched you writing and dreamed about having them buried deep inside of my cunt!”

He moans, cock twitching in his pants. He wants to take them off but he can’t look away from the apex of your thighs, his mouth hanging open, breathing shallow. He watches you pump your fingers in and out of yourself before he finally speaks, his voice breaking. “I—I wanna... lemme try, please.”

Brian shuffles forward, huffing when you demand once again for him to take off his pants. He quickly discards his corduroys but leaves his underwear on, still a bit shy and way too focused on you. When you pull your fingers from yourself he’s taken with a fit of boldness, capturing your hand in his and bringing it up to push your two wet fingers into his mouth, sucking on them.

He moans at the taste of you, eyes half lidded as he brushes the tips of two fingers against your slit, dipping in a bit nervously. “Fuck! Brian, you dirty boy, come here baby!”

You pull your fingers from his mouth a bit shakily, unable to properly comprehend what it was that he’d just done. Goddamnit, you were the one who was supposed to be ruining him, not the other way around. Moving your hands to his face, you cup his cheeks and bring him forward, crushing his lips to yous, mouth falling open against his when his fingers slide inside of you. “B-Bri!”

You can hardly breathe when he begins to run his fingers along your entire slit, his middle finger curling inside of you while his index finger tentatively brushed over your clit, sending your hips bucking into his hand, taking him further in.

“More baby please! Fuck mommy good with your fingers baby boy...” Okay yeah, something had DEFINITELY snapped inside of you as the words left your mouth, eyes wide in fear that he was going to repel in disgust. “Fuck Bri, I’m sorry I didn-“

His lips cut you off, bruising your own with the force of his kiss.. oh.. that was.. unexpected.. He kisses you hard, pushing his index finger inside you with his middle finger, starting to fuck you with them. His thumb toys with your clit clumsily, though he tries to find a rhythm the best he can.

He just wants to please you, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he sits back to watch himself finger fuck you, groaning at how shiny his fingers were. “God, you’re so fucking wet. Tell me who made you this wet honey?”

He teases you with his ring finger, pretending like he’s going to add it but then not. He doesn’t know if this is confidence or desperation, but he doesn’t care at this point.

“You! God Brian its you, you made me so wet baby boy!” You certainly weren’t expecting him to be so... confident. His teasing is almost too much for you to handle.

“Fucking hell Brian! Just fuck me baby please! I need you..” Your hands move to his hair, pulling hard, not caring if he was in pain. You wanted him, no, NEEDED him inside of you, desperate to feel his cock stretching you.

“Do you not wanna fuck me baby boy? Do you not wanna fuck mommy?” He curses, free hand quickly moving to grip the base of his cock through his underwear, his fingers stilling inside you. Fuck, he was already close, and your words, what you were calling yourself… it was having quite the effect on him.

“Bloody—Fuck, Y/N, I’m not... I w-won’t last.” He whines, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“I want to fuck you so bad but it won’t b-be good for you.” He’s worried all of a sudden, he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

Reaching up, you caress his face, pulling him down to press your lips to his, this time much more gentle and reassuring. “It’s okay Brian, it’s okay.. I don’t care if you last, I just want to feel you inside of me. I want you to cum inside of me, fill me up baby.” Nuzzling your nose against his, you run your hands down his back, slipping them into his underwear, grabbing handfuls of his ass. His hips were bucking into you, and you could feel how desperate he was, how much he needed me, honestly you didn’t care if he lasted.

You only wanted to be his first, to be the first and last woman he was ever with... Brian whimpers at your words, trembling all over. Pulling his fingers from you, he sucks them off quickly—and god, he couldn’t get enough of that—before pushing down his underwear, fumbling to get them down his skinny legs. He clenches the base of his cock again, trying not to get too overwhelmed. He leans down to kiss you again, more gentle this time as he awkwardly shuffles between your legs. “What’s uhm—what’s the best p-position?”

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you pull his hips to you, groaning when you feel his cock rub against your folds, rubbing gently against your clit. “Like this Bri, just like this baby...”

You rub your hands down his back, nails scraping his pale skin. “Just breathe and take your time sweetie, I want you to do whatever feels good, and if you don’t last, it’s okay.. because when you cum inside of me?”

You lick a stripe up his neck, ending at his earlobe where you allow your teeth to graze him there, your breath hot on him. “I want you to eat it out of me baby...”

Brian lets out a little whimper at your words, his jaw clenching, hazel eyes turning fiery. He thrusts into you hard, pushing himself all the way in until his balls slap against you. He takes a moment, heaving in a shuddering breath, pushing his face into your neck. “Oh fuck, oh—Y/N. You feel... this is... “

He’s trembling, and he has to beg the universe to let him NOT CUM before he’s able to start thrusting. Your breath catches in your throat as Brian thrusts inside of you, his cock stretching you in the most delicious way, filling you to the absolute brim as his balls slap against you. His whole body is shaking as he whimpers into your neck, quiet whispers of pleasure falling into your skin. You move your hands to his face, pushing him up to look into your eyes, hands brushing his hair out of his face, holding it down. “Breathe Brian, easy baby, it’s okay, just breathe.”

You couldn’t even imagine what feelings he was having, what was running through his mind.. he’d just lost his virginity, on a bed, with a girl who was head over heels for him, in Spain.. he as probably losing his utter shit, and god, you were close to losing your’s if he didn’t move soon. Digging your heels into his ass, you push his cock further into you, his hips grinding hard against you, causing the both of you to gasp out in shock and pleasure. “P-please Bri, m-move for me baby.. I don’t care if you cum fast, we’ll work on it later.. we have all the t-time in the world!” Brian nods into your neck, taking in another shuddering breath. Snapping his hips in and out of you, he tries desperately to find a rhythm even though it’s shaky. He’s just moaning and whimpering out your name, hands flitting all over your skin. His hips finally get a bit more confident, snapping against yours with a bit more force, letting out little grunts as he does so. Brian could’ve honestly just lied next to you and made his little noises, and you would’ve been completely losing your mind. His little grunts accompanying his shaky thrusts, the way he was whimpering into your skin, it was setting your whole body alight. You could tell he was getting more confident with his thrusts, they were getting harder and faster, making your legs shake against his waist. You shouldn’t.. no, that would be too harsh....

Before you could stop yourself, you detangle your legs from round Bri’s waist, and in the blink of an eye, had them over his shoulders, his cock slipping deeper inside of you. Brian’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling, it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He cries out, shaking, leaning closer to you, gripping your legs tightly

“Y/N... god, I’m so close, I... you feel so fucking good.” His hips are moving at a ridiculous pace, sweat dripping down his neck.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh—“ Hips stuttering, he gasps out his words “God, I—where do I cum, I—” His head is spinning, blood pumping in his ears.

“I told you where earlier baby...”| You trail off in a moan, breath hitching in your throat as he slams into you harder than you’ve ever had anyone do. “I-inside of me pretty boy, I want your sweet cum inside of me.”

No, you weren’t on the pill, but sometimes life makes you take risks and honestly, the feeling of Brian cumming inside of you, the first time he’s ever cum WITH another person present.. it was too hot of an opportunity to pass up, and you weren’t ovulating... So, you decided to be a fucking idiot for once in your goddamn life.

Brian is already coming up with an apology to you in his head, sure he must be hurting you with how forcefully he’s fucking you, but he can’t seem to stop. His body is chasing his orgasm whether he likes it or not, and your words don’t help him any. There’s something so hot to him—so fucking primal—about cumming inside you. About leaving a part of himself in you; marking you. “Oh—Jesus—Fuck—I’m!”

He somehow manages to talk between thrusts, and suddenly he lets out a cry, pushing himself in as deep as he can, cumming harder than he ever has in his fucking life. His hips won’t stop moving, never pulling out, just grinding into you as he pants loudly, mouth hanging open as if in shock.

The force of which Brian’s cum shoots into you, completely painting your clenching walls with his seed, causes you to let out a very loud gasp of shock, mouth wide as he fills you up. You’d never had anyone cum inside of you before, so you weren’t exactly sure what it would feel like... But, god above, this was the best feeling in the entire world. It was so warm, it almost felt like when you drink a warm cup of tea on a cold day.

“F-fuck Bri! G-give it to me love, don’t want you to waste a drop..” You lay back further into the bed, pushing your hips further up into his, desperate to feel more of his cock inside of you. God he was already balls deep, but you just wanted all of him possible.

Brian is literally crying, gasping in breaths as his hips jerk into you without his permission, his cock and balls pulsing. He feels completely out of control and it’s kind of terrifying kind of fantastic. Fuck, it feels so fucking good.

It takes him a moment to realize that the whimpering and whining and crying of “Y/N” he’s hearing is him and not you, and he crashes his mouth down onto yours to shut himself up. God, his cock feels so snug and tight and warm inside you, his cum making everything even wetter. He wants to stay like this forever, just in this moment.

Brian’s lips were bruising against your’s his whimpers and desperate little cries of your name being swallowed as you eagerly kissed him back, hands moving to his hair, pulling gently as his hips begin to slow down, shaking like leaves, but his cock was still twitching inside of you, still releasing cum..

God, you really took a risk with this, but honestly you didn’t really think even a condom would much help for you either with the sheer amount of cum he was shooting out. “Shhh.. it’s okay Bri, just rest baby, just rest..”

You slowly move your legs from his shoulders, deciding to wrap them around his waist, pressing him into your chest, his face buried in your chest. “O-oh my g-god.”

Brian can barely get the words out, his voice strangled and muffled into your skin. He cuddles into you, shaking like a goddamn idiot. He knew he should get off of you. He knew he should pull out and clean you up and.... Jesus, he hadn’t even made you cum. He’d cum in like two seconds and he hadn’t even taken care of you, he was such a fucking idiot.

He tries to get up, but his arms literally won’t hold him up, he’s so fucking spent. “M’sorry Y-Y/N, I—fuck,”

You shush him again, brushing your hands through his hair, your lips pressing soft and delicate kisses all over his face. “It’s okay Bri, just breathe love, you have nothing to apologize for.. you did so good baby, you made me feel so special.” Your hands are gently moving in his hair, scratching at his scalp, trying to calm him down and allow him to catch his breath. Placing a small kiss to his brow, you sigh from absolute shock and awe at what had just happened.. fuck. You’d just taken Brian’s virginity?

God this was the best feeling in the world. “Thank you for letting me do this with you Bri.. I, I’m honored that you trusted me to give yourself to me.” He nods, letting his breathing get back to normal before speaking again, sniffling a little. “I... I wanted it to be you. Always wanted it to be you. I just... I didn’t think I had a chance.”

He pulls his head up to look at you, his trembly hands sweeping your sweaty hair out of your face. “I’m sorry I didn’t make you cum. I’ll get better. For next time.” He gives you a small smile, his fingertips brushing little patterns over your skin. Moving your head just slightly, you place a kiss to his fingers, smiling as he blushes and ducks his head into your neck bashfully.

“Oh Bri, you always had a chance with me.. honestly, I was so flustered when I met you I didn’t think I was going to be able to work with you.” He gives you a look of disbelief, making you laugh.

“I’m serious love! You were just so sweet and innocent, and so kind to me...” That is what what had always attracted you to Brian.. how kind he was, and he was continuing to prove it by being so apologetic about not making you cum.

“And I don’t care about you making me cum Bri.. we have plenty of time for that. This was for you, about your first time...” He hesitates, but finally nods, nuzzling against you again.

“Thank you. You’re fucking amazing. I was so nervous.” He kisses you softly before slowly pulling out, whimpering a little as he does so. He rubs his large hands over your thighs gently. “Can I run you a bath or something?”

He looks hopeful, just wanting to take care of you. You nod at Brian’s hopeful voice, running your hands down his back, barely touching his skin, still reeling from the feeling of his pulling out, the way his cum was just... oozing out of you. “Bath sounds nice love, thank you for being so sweet.”

Taking his hands in yours, you use them as leverage to pull yourself into a sitting position before sliding your legs off the bed, standing shakily. “I-oh wow, little weak on my feet.”

Chuckling a bit, you smile as Bri hops to his feet, wrapping his arms around you to steady you before leading you to the bathroom. His cum was dripping down my thighs, you could feel it’s slow descent as Bri bent over the tub to start the water, squirting in some of the complimentary bubble bath into the water.

Running your hands down my stomach, you inch lower, gathering some of his excess cum on your fingers. Smirking at your own idea, you waltz over to him, standing close “Wanna taste baby?” Slowly sucking your fingers into your mouth, you shut your eyes, moaning at the taste “Mmm, so sweet...”

You wink at Bri as you slide into the tub, body soaking into the bubbles as he sputtered. He was completely wrapped around your fingers.

His knees get a little weak when you suck his cum off your fingers, and he struggles to catch his breath.

When you get into the full tub, he turns off the water, gathering soap and stuff into his hands. He stands there awkwardly for a moment before going to kneel beside you on the hard tile, his cheeks pink. “Can I wash you?”

You smile up at him, holding out your hand for him to hold as he drops to his knees beside the tub. “Of course you can Bri, if that’s what you want to do.”

You bring his hand up to your lips to kiss, sitting up slightly to trail your kisses all the way up his forearm.

This was by far the most...intimate, you had ever been with anyone. Sure, you had a few notches in my belt, not many, but more than Bri, and yet, no man had ever made you feel the way Brian was. He was so delicate, soft, loving, curious, and desperate to please. But above all of that, he was my friend, well obviously more than that now, but you trusted him. Fully.

“I told you earlier, anything you want to do, all you need to do is ask love. Anything you ask, I’ll do, for you.” Brian smiles back at you, leaning down to kiss you softly, just a brush of his lips. He gets a towel all soapy and warm and starts rubbing over your skin gently, being thorough. “You're so pretty, love.” His heart feels sized too big. You were his best friend and he loved you so goddamn much. In more way than one, but it didn't want to freak you out so he didn't want to say anything.

His ministrations were as delicate and gentle as his voice, his eyes never leaving your own as his hands move over your body, one cleaning you, the other just barely grazing my skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my skin. It took everything in your body not to moan out loud when he calls you pretty. It’s a bit silly isn’t it? Being so... emotional at just being called pretty.. but, you couldn’t find the energy to care.

You loved Brian, fully and completely, had done for a long while, but there was no way you could tell him now.. right? He’d think you were a freak. You sigh in contentment, brushing your hand through his hair, resting it on his cheek. “No, I think you’ll find that you’re the beauty in this relationship Bri.. you’re the prettiest boy, man, I’ve ever met.” The sounds from the street were flowing in through the closed window, car horns, children laughing, but all you could pay attention to was the way Brian was looking at you, the delicate love and admiration that filled his eyes as his hands moved between your thighs, washing you.

He cleans between your legs gently, looking at your face to make sure he doesn’t hurt you/you aren’t sore. When you gasp he freezes, concerned, but he quickly realizes it wasn’t a noise of pain. “Oh, is that—?”

He repeats the movement, circular against a little hard nub hidden by your folds. You can only nod, this boy had only just had sex for the first time, seen a boob for the first time.. and he’d somehow managed to find my clit faster than any man you’d ever known. Shaking your head at his concern, you allow a moan to fall from your lips, your hand tightening in Brian’s hair just a bit.

You hoped he didn’t mind because his curly locks were currently the only thing grounding you to earth. “N-no, it’s a, good gasp baby, oh! God Bri, do that again please..”

Your head falls back against the tub, legs spreading involuntarily, allowing Brian easier access to your core. His hazel eyes are wide as he rubs you, his cheeks heating up as he watches all your reactions closely. He speeds up when you tell him to, finding an easy rhythm that you seemed to like. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N I can’t believe you’re mine.”

His voice is soft and reverent, and he leans in to drop a kiss to your shoulder. “A-are you gonna cum? Am I doing okay?”

Your eyes widen when you realize that, yes, you are indeed gonna cum. “Y-yes B-Bri! I’m s-so close!”

You’re almost shocked by how close you are to cumming, no man had ever made you cum before, and here this little innocent blushing boy, who’d never once touched a woman’s body before today, was about to give you, judging from the tightness in your belly, the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. His fingers were moving almost as if he were playing a guitar, middle finger inside of you, curling upwards, exploring your walls, pressing continuously against your spot. Index finger and thumb circling your clit, and they were all moving so FAST! You didn’t know someone was capable of moving their hands in a manner that quickly...

“B-Bri, p-please I need, oh fuck! Oh Brian, I love you!” You didn’t even realize what you’d said because it soon felt like every ounce of blood in my body was rushing through my ears, you could’ve been speaking Polish for all you knew.

Your body tenses almost demonically, and the coil finally snapped. Hands firmly gripping both the side of the tub and Brian’s free hand, the only things keeping you grounded on this earth, you spasm and scream out in pleasure.

Brian doesn't halt his movements, his hand adjusting to your writhing hips. “Oh, fuck.” The words are breathed out, barely audible, his mouth hanging open as he watches you. You were the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen. His heart is racing from all of it--especially from you saying you loved him. He was so... proud of himself for making you feel good.

Coming down from the high of your orgasm was like what you imagine doing LSD felt like. Shapes cloud your vision, you feel like you could feel everything 10x more sensitively. You can hear individual conversations on the street, and most of all, Brian's hands felt like boiling lava against your skin. You were so frayed, and his fingers just didn't want to stop moving against you, it was almost painful. “H-here baby, t-too much!”

You reach down with shaky hands and take his hands in yours, pulling them from your pussy and to your mouth, placing little kisses on the pruned fingertips. He groans, watching you. When his fingers fall from your lips he lunges forward, kissing you hard, his hands rubbing over your shoulders and neck. When he pulls away he smiles a little, cheeks pink and curls sticking to his face “I love you too, you know.”

Your eyes widen almost comically at Brian's words. “So I did say that out then?”

You laugh, ducking your head into Brian's neck. Of course you would declare your love for him in the middle of an orgasm. It was a very on brand action for you. “Well, I meant it. I do love you Brian, like, a shit ton. Have for probably 3 months.. since.. the veggie loaf disaster.”

The two of you laugh, remembering how you'd almost burnt his flat down and Roger's face when he came home to find you and Brin covered in foam from the fire extinguisher. Brian had been so sweet and lovely, and you’d known you were in love with him the moment he had thrown the burnt remnants in your hair because he was bored while you cleaned.

Brian smiles fondly down at you, running a hand through your slightly sweaty hair. “I think I probably loved you the first day of class, when you very politely told Professor Franklin he could fuck straight off.” Women in the sciences were pretty rare, and while most of the professors were completely welcoming, some weren’t. You’d walked into the room and the professor told you “wrong class, dearie” without even a spare glance, you’d given him a piece of your mind. Brian had been grinning from the back, and was elated when you asked if anyone was sitting beside him. You’d tutored HIM through the class—had been the only reason he’d passed “I was fucking smitten.”

You let out a loud laugh at Brian’s words. Professor Franklin was a 60 something year old sexist pig who had really eaten his words when you’d ended up with the highest marks ever in his class. “You were the only one smiling at me, seemed like a good idea to sit next to the cute curly haired boy with the pretty smile.”

You couldn’t believe what he was telling you to be quite honest. That class was two years ago, Brian had had feelings for you for TWO years and had never said a single thing. Brushing your hands through his curls once more, you sit up a bit in the tub, motioning for him to get in in front of you.

“C’mon babe, in ya get. I wanna cuddle but this water feels too nice to pass up.” He blushes profusely, but does as you ask resting against your front as you run your hands over his shoulders, his head under your chin. “So why didn’t you tell me about your feelings? Because I can assure you I would’ve reciprocated had I known you felt the same way.. could’ve saved me quite a fortune on batteries..” Brian grows quiet, shrugging his skinny shoulders a little, the warm water swirling around him. He chews on his inner cheek for a few moments before responding. “I dunno. Scared of what you might say, I guess? I didn’t think you’d want me like that. And you were such a good friend, I didn’t... I didn’t want to mess that up or lose that. Your friendship was, and still is, much more important than getting to kiss you and... other stuff.” He quickly back tracks, stuttering as he speaks. “Not that I don’t like that too!”

You chuckle and nod your head in understanding, you knew exactly where he was coming from. “That’s fair. I was so nervous around you when we first started hanging out, when I started tutoring you.” You smile a little, remembering how you’d once changed clothes 6 times before going to his flat. “I’ve never had a friendship like yours before, connected on a level of understanding like I do with you.. and, to be honest, I’m glad we waited this long to admit our feelings to one another. Makes the foundation of this relationship that much stronger.”

He smiles widely, leaning back against you “Relationship? So you—you really do want to be my girlfriend?” He knows it’s dumb to ask, but he needs to be sure. He’s still somehow scared you wouldn’t want to be with him, despite your proclamations of love. You move your hands up, cupping his chin to turn it so that he could look you in the eye. Chuckling, you nod and lean down, placing a kiss to his lips. “Yes Bri, I want to be your girlfriend... and then,” You trail your kisses to his chin. “Your fiancé... then,” You move on to his jaw, close to his ear.

“Your wife... and finally,” Gently taking his earlobe in between your teeth, you bite down just a little, nibbling the skin. “The mother of your perfect, super intelligent, uber curly haired children.”

Brian flushes a deep scarlet, for multiple reasons. Perhaps your words most of all. He flounders for something to say, finally settling on a half joke. “Is that a proposal?”

Laughing gently, you move your hands to rest on his stomach, drawing lazy circles onto the pale skin. “I would take you to the courthouse right now and buy you a supermarket ring, but I’m afraid Harold and Ruth wouldn’t exactly approve of that.” You were being completely honest with him. Brian was the only person you would ever love and you were 100% positive about it.

“Speaking of Harold and Ruth, they’re going to flip their lid when we tell them! Your mom basically threatened me with violence last Christmas if I didn’t marry you.”

He’s positively beaming, butterflies in his stomach from both your words and your touches. “I wouldn’t mind a supermarket ring.” His voice is soft; he feels light as a feather. “Doesn’t matter what my mum and dad think. S’not their ring.”

Your heart had never felt so full, but his words were so endearing, so sweet and soft, and just... so unapologetically Brian. “You sure you would want to deal with me for the rest of our lives? Rambling on about my obsessions and my love of Vera Lynn’s music? Constantly almost burning the kitchen down when I attempt to bake? Sleeping too late and then not eating until dinner because I’ve forgotten?” You are whispering the words softly into his ear, your hands trailing delicately up and down his chest, fingers dancing over his collarbones.

Brian is breathless, heart racing. “I can’t think of anything I want more to be honest.” He knows this is moving fast, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He’d loved you for two years, had been with you for so much. Spending the rest of his life with you sounded.... like everything.

You grin, placing a kiss into his hair. “Yeah? Well, let’s get out of uni and then you can marry the fuck out of me Mr. May.”

You sigh, the water was getting cold. “Cmon babe, let’s get out, we’re gonna shrivel into little prunes in here.” Reluctantly the both of you get out and dry one another off, you laughing at Brian’s soft moans when dry his cock.

Throwing the towel at his face as you exit the bathroom, you to the corner of the room, bending over and digging through the disorganized mess you called a suitcase in an attempt to find a pair of pajamas, remembering quickly exactly what Bri and you were doing here in Tenerife when you come across my research binder and calculator. “Bri, tomorrow we have to meet with Dr. Charston and Dr. Silvanti at the university to get all the equipment.” You’re still bent over, completely naked, desperately looking for the silk shorts set you’d brought, not even realizing that Brian was stood in the doorway watching your every move.

“Mm-hmm.” Brian just nods, barely paying attention.

He can’t help himself, walking up behind you and running his hands over your ass, chuckling a little when you jump.

“Sorry, I just—“ He sighs a little, slightly embarrassed. “Why don’t you forgo the Pyjamas tonight?”

You gasp, jumping up and around in shock at Brian’s actions, smacking his chest lightly, laughing despite your shock. “Mr. May! You’re certainly getting bold!” Smirking up at him, you wrap your arms around his waist, hands moving to rest on his ass. “Is that your way of not so subtly suggesting we continue to...explore one another?” You squeeze his ass, smirking up at his wide eyed expression. He simply grins down at you, shrugging casually, canines presses against his bottom lip.

“Hmm, I dunno. Only if you want to, lovely. I’m happy to cuddle and watch telly. I just couldn’t help myself—you’ve got the best ass in the world.” He winks at you, feeling light as a feather.

You lean up and press a kiss to his lips, squeezing his ass one last time before flopping down onto the mattress, naked as the day you were born. “Well if you like it so much why don’t you write a song about it?” You’re teasing him, my eyebrows raised, a smirk on my face. You’d often tease him about writing songs for you, little did you know, he’d written one for you a year ago.. “I mean, honestly, sweet little Brian May.. an ass man.. who would’ve thought.”

He grins, clambering onto the bed behind you, stretching himself out over you as he speaks. “A song? Well maybe... I.... will.”

He pauses between words to drop soft, innocent kisses over your décolletage before moving up to your lips. “Why is it so hard to believe, hmm? All men like SOMETHING?”

He pauses, cocking his head to the side to look at you. “Though, I like just about everything about you.”

You close your eyes and smile up at him, laughing just a little at his words. “Just about everything? Hm? What exactly is it that you despise about me so much?”

You love teasing him, your lips ghosting over his as he moves to rest above you , his body a comforting weight on top of you. Your hands brush over his back, tickling his sides just slightly. You could feel his erection growing in between your thighs as your hands and lips moved against him, causing you to let out a little sigh against his lips. Moving your hands to his hair, you pull his head back a little bit harsher than you’d planned to, but just enough so you could latch your lips to his neck.

He gasps a little when you pull his hair, easily tilting his head back for you, moaning when you suck a mark onto his neck. He laughs a little bit, breathless, thinking about how to answer your question “Well I must say, you’re much smarter than me, lovely. Makes me jealous.”

He’s teasing a little—he loves how smart you are. He’s more in awe than mad about it. Bucking your hips up against his, you smirk when he lets out a breathless moan, his cock twitching in between your thighs. “Oh yeah? Is poor precious baby boy Brian jealous that his girlfriend can calculate velocities better than him?” Your lips are sucking at his neck hard, determined to leave him with the largest hickey imaginable. Moving your hands down towards his cock, your fingers brush over the tip, gathering his precum, before sliding your fingers back up and sticking them in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them.

Brian seemed to have a very visceral reaction whenever you would do this, so you didn’t see any reason not to continue. He curses under his breath, shivering at the sight of you. He lowers himself a little to kiss down your neck, quickly moving to mouth at your tits again, sucking on your nipples, just taking his own sweet time. His hands moved over your body, feeling your curves and soft skin, rubbing his cock against your thigh lazily. He was more focused on you.

Your hands don’t leave Brian’s hair as he sucks on your nipples, biting them gently before pulling away and kissing down your stomach, sucking harshly along your hips. “F-fuck Bri! Yo-you’re a fast learner.. maybe y-you’re the s-smartest, OH!”

You didn’t even have time to react before he had buried his face between your legs, tongue curiously licking along your folds. “B-Bri b-baby y-you don’t h-have to! Not if you d-don’t want to!”

You’d NEVER had a man do this to you before, and sure you were curious to see what all the hubbub was about, but you had never expected Brian to just.. dive in. Literally.

He looks up at you from between your legs, hazel eyes wide, lips slightly shiny with your moisture. “But I—I want to. I at least want a taste. Is that okay?”

You nod, movement jerky, and he beams, pleased with your answer. He licks over your folds slowly, with just the flat of his tongue, as if curious. He parts you with his long fingers, just tasting you, licking over your clit and chuckling when you fidget.

Soon he’s essentially just giving your cunt open mouthed kisses, not quite knowing what he’s doing, but loving the feeling and the taste, one of his arms thrown over your hips to hold them down, the fingers of his other hand holding you open. “F-fuck! Brian.. you, you’re doing s-so g-good! S-so talented l-love!”

Your hands are grabbing Brian’s hair like a vice, you knew it had to be almost painful for him, but for some reason that only made you want to tug harder. Your orgasm takes you completely by surprise, the coil that had been steadily building in my belly suddenly just breaking without any warning. “BRIAN!! Oh! FUCK!”

Had his arm not been pressing your hips into the bed, you’re quite sure that the both of us would’ve been sent into the floor. He had just made you cum using only his mouth, no penetration, no anything.. just his goddamn hunger for your pussy and a will to please.

He whines at your hands tugging his hair, the sharp sensations of pain actually feeling incredible. He’s so excited when you cum, eagerly lapping and sucking up all your juices, pulling you as close to his mouth as he can, his long nose brushing over your sensitive clit while he cleans you. Brian knows that he’s being a fucking slut, just moaning everywhere, but, he fucking loved it so much. He’d made you cum AGAIN, with just his mouth, and you’d tasted and sounded so fucking good.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, like my nerves had been exposed to cold air. Brian’s nose nudging against your clit as he cleaned you almost sent you into another orgasm. “B-Bri...”

You’re almost embarrassed at how weak your voice sounds, you’d had two mind blowing orgasms in the span of 1 hour, and you were absolutely shattered. Tugging on his hair, you attempt to pull Brian away from your pussy, desperate to feel his mouth on your other set of lips. He whines, resisting slightly, but he finally concedes, kissing over your thighs, then hips, then stomach, chest, neck--until he's kissing you full on, hands holding your face close to his, sighing softly into your mouth. His lips were as soft as could be, still glistening with your juices as he kisses your lips, his hands cradling your face. You move your own hands up, gently grasping onto his wrist as his lips work over you. He was somehow pouring more love into this kiss than you’d felt from anyone in your entire life.

His hair was gently brushing against your face, his nose nudging yours, foreheads presses together. You didn’t want this to end, this moment. You were so content, felt so happy and loved.. and it was all because of Brian. “I love you so much Brian.. please never doubt that.. and, god, just, whatever happens, never leave me... I know this sounds so childish and not at all feminist.. but, fuck, I love you.. I don’t want to lose you.. ever.”

He smiles at you, trying to comfort you, hand running over your nose. “I don't want anyone else for the rest of my life, Y/N. Just you. It's always been you.” He laughs a little. “I know that's cheesy, but it's true.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek gently “I'm so happy. There's no one I'd rather be with, or work with.”

You can't help but chuckle at his final line “Doctors Brian and Y/N May, astrophysics power couple...I think that works pretty well don't you?” You press his head down against your neck, brushing your hands through his hair. “Maybe we can have a joint office with that on the door one day.” Little did you know that you would be the only Doctor May in the family for almost four decades... but that’s a story for another day. He chuckles into your neck, moving his hips a bit to get comfortably, only to end up pushing his still hard cock into your thigh. Smirking a little, you reach down as grasp the hardness. “Well, now that we've been sweet and romantic for a minute, why don't you tell me how you want me to take care of you baby. Tell me EXACTLY what you want me to do...I want to fulfill all of your fantasies.”

Brian flushes, bucking into your touch gently. When he speaks it's mumbled, he’s embarrassed of his request “I... could you... I wanna feel your mouth.”

He hides his face in your neck. “O-only if you want to though.”

Oh, you definitely wanted to. Placing a kiss to Brian's brow, you gently roll him over onto his back, settling yourself in between his legs, placing open mouth kisses along his neck, his chest, stopping to suck on his nipples for moment before continuing down his stomach, until you get to his hips. God, he was genuinely such a tiny man.. his hip bones were practically sharp enough to cut glass, but you still leaned down, sucking on the skin there, nipping playfully at his hip bones as he gasped and whimpered under you, bucking his hips.

“You want me to suck you off baby? Is that what you want honey? For me to take you down my throat and swallow your whole fucking load?” You take his cock in his hand before he even had a chance to even react to your words, your fingers swirling his precum around his tip, teasing him before you allowed your tongue to dart out, kitten licking his slit.

He shudders, letting out a soft whine, throwing his forearm over his eyes “God, fuck, yes, I want it. Oh, shiiiiit!”

He peeks down at you, hips fidgeting on the mattress. “I might... I might cum fast though,”

He blushes down to his pale chest “Sorry. I'll work on it.”

You smirk against his cock, wrapping your lips around his swollen head, moaning into the sensitive organ as Brian's hips buck. Pulling off just enough to talk to him, your hand replaces your mouth immediately, pulling him hard and fast.

“That's okay baby, we've got all the time in the world, and I'll gladly help you get your stamina up honey... we can practice every.single.day” You punctuate your words by licking his Cock from base to tip, tongue hard on the underside of him, his vein throbbing against you. Brin groans, one of his hands coming up to thread his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face so he could watch you better. “Fuck, you look so good.”

He sucks in a sharp breath when you dip your tongue into his slit, hips twitching even as he tried to hold back. “Feels a-amazing, I can’t—god.”

His eyes flutter shut as his head falls back against his pillow, mouth falling open as you take him into your mouth. He couldn’t believe you were doing this to him, and he suddenly understands why Roger never shut up about this act.. You absolutely loved the feeling of his hands in my hair, not pressing you into him harder, just, holding you, wanting to see every single thing that you were doing to him. Your eyes hadn’t left his the whole time, only when his head falls back against the pillow do your eyes break contact.

His cock is throbbing so hard in your mouth, and you know he’s close, god the noises that were coming out of his mouth were near orgasmic. “Come on baby, cum for me, fill my whole fucking throat up Brian...”

It’s almost like your words push him over the edge, your permission finally allowing him to let go. “Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh—f-uck.” He’s frantically saying the phrase over and over again, cursing when his hips snap up just as you go back down on him. He starts to apologize, but then you’re moaning around him, taking him impossibly deep, and he nearly shouts as he cums, whimpering as you swallow around him. His grip is tight in your hair, his eyes wide as saucers as his whole body tenses before going limp against the mattress, shivering a little.

You happily swallow every ounce of cum that Brian gives you, your arms firmly wrapped around his hips, holding him still. His entire body was shaking, and given the sheer amount of his cum that you’d just swallowed, it was no surprise. After making sure you’d thoroughly sucked him dry, you place a few kisses to his softening cock and kiss your way back up his body, taking your time admiring the marks you’d left on him before meeting his lips with yours, softly kissing him, just trying to get his breathing regulated.

He kisses you eagerly, licking his own taste out of your mouth, his trembly hands on your face. “Mmm... Y/N... that was...Th-thank you.

He knows it’s lame, but he doesn’t know what else to say. It’d felt incredible. He feels shaky and almost faint but in the best way. You smile into the kiss, loving that you’d had such an effect on him. “You don’t have to thank me for doing something I’ve been dreaming of doing since I saw you in those tight orange bell bottoms last fall...”

You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, cheekily biting it lightly as Brian lets out a little whimper. Your fingers gently massaging his head, fingernails scratching his scalp lightly. “You did so good Bri.”

He simply cuddles close to you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “M’glad i made you happy. I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so happy we’re here together.”

You smile and wrap your own arms around him, hugging him as close to your body as you can. “Me too Bri, you don’t even know how happy you’ve made me.”

Pressing a kiss down to his brow, you frown when he doesn’t respond. Peeking my head down at him, you chuckle when you see that he’s completely passed out, face pressed against your chest. “Sweet Dreams Bri, I love you.” Laying one final kiss to his forehead, you curl yourself against him, resigning yourself to sleep, and dreaming about what morning would bring.

Brian sleeps as late as can, curled up with you. He groans when the alarm goes off in the morning, not wanting to wake up. Screw his thesis. Screw his degree. He just wanted to stay cuddled with you in bed forever, completely content and cozy.

The piercing sound of the alarm sends you burying yourself further into Brian’s neck, groaning loudly along with him.

“God Bri, do we have to move? Can’t we just stay in bed all day long?” You are definitely not a morning person, and after yesterday’s activities, you were still absolutely exhausted. This day was absolutely going to suck so bad. “I promise I’ll be good and make you feel amazing if you just let us stay here...”

He pouts, rubbing his eyes, voice thick with sleep when he speaks. “Don't sayyyy thaaat, because you KNOW I want to say yes.”

Brian stretches a little before pulling you closer to him, curling around you. “Maybe we can tell the professors that something more important come up. He sniffles into your neck, showering your skin with little kisses.

You let out a little giggle as Bri’s kisses tickle your neck, the feeling sending you further into the bed and into his chest. Fuck, he was so warm and comfortable, and made you feel so incredibly safe and loved. Looking up into his hazel eyes, you smile widely at him. Puckering your lips in an attempt to get him to take the hint and kiss you. He sighs dramatically and does just that, moaning into the kiss as he pulls you up closer to him. His hands move to your ass, squeezing the cheeks as he presses your core against his raging hard on. Opening your mouth in a sigh only spurs him on, and he shoves his tongue into your mouth, kissing you as if your life depended on it. “B—“

Before you can even get a word out, the phone rings, the shrill sound permeating throughout the room and just absolutely scaring the living daylights out of the both of you. Scrambling to the side of the bed, you reach over and answer, smiling even more widely than you had been earlier at the words spoken to you on the other line. It was almost like a god was smiling down on the two of you.

Thanking the caller as you hang up the phone, you around to face Brian, mischievous smirk on my face. “Guess who don't have to lie to their professors about having a cold, because one of them has been exposed by his wife as a cheating whoremonger and is currently sweeping the charred remnants of his possessions off the pavement in front of his home in Clapham?”

Brian sits straight up, a grin on his face “No way. Seriously?!” He lets out a bright laugh “I don't know if I want the details of that or not.”

Joining him in laughter, you hop back in bed and taking up residence in his lap, placing soft kisses all over his face and neck in happiness. “Obviously we made somebody very happy in a past life, and all of our good karma is starting to shine through.”

Running a hand through his hair, you smile down at him, placing one final kiss to his lips before pulling away just slightly, hands moving down his chest “Now... where were we?”

Tags: @goodoldfashioned-rogerboy @leah-halliwell92 @stephydearestxo @unofficialbillnye @glasgowkisschelseasmile @dereones98 @danamaleksworld @rogertaylors-lipgloss @toomuchlove-willkillyou @brianmayoucease

#brian may x reader #brian may #queen #bohemian rhapsody #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee #queen x reader #brian may imagine #my writing

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ferricadooza · 5 years ago

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y’all wanna hear some absolute drivel from yours truly? well you’re about to because i need to articulate some shit, so buckle in.

i’m taking a class called virtual reality, which is a literature course that also counts as a philosophy credit because we’re talking about - get this - reality. on the first day of class (last week), the professor asked us to, in our introductions, talk about our favorite “thing” about reality, as well as to describe one thing that isn’t real, but we wish was.

most of the answers were pretty standard. “i like the connections i get to make and share with my friends and family.” “i love a good cup of coffee.” “i like video games.” as well as “i like that we are the ones who are able to determine our own realities” from an overzealous, slightly misguided freshman who still idolizes descartes. anyway.

so everyone went around the room, and i had the great misfortune of being the last person to speak (mostly because i refused to volunteer, but that’s neither here nor there). and i turned to the professor, looked them dead in the eye, and said, “i have a bit of a dilemma. you see, i can’t answer your first question because i don’t believe that anything is real but i paradoxically believe that everything is real.”

they turned to me and said, “ah, i see you have a complicated relationship with reality. good.” i do have a complicated relationship with reality. and here’s why. i believe that nothing is real for two reasons:

one. there is no standard by which to measure “realness.” we know this because “reality” differs from person to person. my reality as a young, queer, for-all-intents-and-purposes cis woman looks nothing like that of a sixty-year-old, god-fearing man in the bible belt. our realities are shaped by our individual experiences, which means that they cannot be universal.

two. everything that makes up our supposed reality is human-made. and i’m not just talking about objects. thought, in and of itself is a human process, and it is thought that leads to ideas which are the very basis of all aspects of reality. that is to say: it was a thought that first drafted up the idea of a chair. it was also a thought that first came up with the idea to call a chair a “chair.” in the same way, it was a thought that first drafted up the idea of reality. and it was a thought that first came up with the idea to call reality “reality.”

plato calls these ideas, as well as the individual, experiential realities i mentioned above, imitations of a greater, more perfect reality. a universal reality (which doesn’t exist). he suggests that it is the role of the philosopher to try to get as close to the “real” reality as they can. (*cough* the narcissistic philosopher strikes again *cough*) but the issue with ideas being things that are brought forth by people - who are by nature susceptible to error - is that they are brought forth by people, who are by nature susceptible to error.

how are we meant to trust the musings of rando on the street when they’re literally just making shit up - or even worse, drawing conclusions based what they know of their own reality? how do we even know that a perfect reality exists? descartes says that a perfect reality exists because we have capital-g-god, who is a perfect being. i reject this notion (lmao), and if you take god out of the equation, the entire argument falls apart.

thus, if reality is immeasurable and individual, as well as something that is completely based on human folly, nothing is real.

but i also believe that everything is real because anything that can be thought enters existence upon its conception, which means that it is real to someone. but that which is real is not necessarily true, and that’s a lesson for another day.

#y'all this is a long ass post about PHILOSOPHY which is why it's under a cut #for the love of fuck #please do not click read more if you don't want to get into this thank u

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purkinje-effect · 6 years ago

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The Purkinje Effect, 34

Table of Contents

“Christ, Geek, you’ve got thrill issues.” Hancock stared down the hole at him. “I’m not afraid of heights. There’s jumping down from someplace, and there’s falling. This is definitely falling.”

“Great, now we have to see this to completion,” ‘Choly moaned. “Angel’s hydraulic thrusters can’t handle that sudden a drop. Not that it matters since I’m not about to leave it behind, but I’m not so good for climbing.”

“I wouldn’t trust me to catch you, either,” Geek snipped with a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’re just gonna hafta double back to that first door an’ see if y’can’t put y’brains together t’break it open.”

“Aren’t you two floors under us?” Hancock continued, increasingly mad that Geek had forcibly divorced himself from the group in such a way, increasingly stressed that the vault was more labyrinthine than any of them had anticipated, and increasingly convinced this was Geek’s way of seizing some kind of control over the situation. “Something tells me there’s a good chance it doesn’t lead anywhere.”

“Well, for your sake and mine, you’d better hope it does. I’ll be fine. I did all kinda a repair work on the maintenance tunnels in 82. I can find my way around without gettin’ caught. Goin’ it alone for now, swear I’ll play it stealthy. Oh hey, there’s another terminal down here.”

“Somethin’ tells me ‘Geek’ and ‘stealth’ don’t belong in the same sentence,” ‘Choly quipped, wanting to wait around to hear what the terminal had to offer.

“Tell me about it,” Hancock agreed, starting into a cigarette and pacing.

Geek shrugged it off, and opened a confidential file paradoxically left unprotected by password. In it summarized the scope of the resident interview process, as it pertained to Vault 114′s planned social experiment. Great. He rolled his eye. Never gonna find a vault that didn’t use the folks for guinea pigs.

“Wow,” he narrated up the shaft aloud. “It wasn’t just Todd Gates. Everybody slotted t’live here was cherrypicked from the rich, the political, and the famous. This one ran an experiment on its people like all the others, but this one was psychological. They sold these rich snobs first class, but would’a sardined ‘em into coach. An’ their original Overseer was supposed to have as little leadership experience as possible, with as strong a hate for authority as possible.”

The chemist bounced his eyebrows once, deadpan.

“So you’re saying that there’s no way to predict just how poorly adjusted these residents’ descendants are.”

“Sounds like the whole tin can could’a used a lifetime supply of Jet, provided the experiment ever got off the ground,” Hancock joked. “From what I understand, though, the only thing we’ve gotta worry about is a mob of Triggermen. They’re bad enough, but also just about as predictable as it gets.”

“What do you mean, ‘from what you understand’? You know about this vault?” ‘Choly glared at the delinquent ghoul, getting to his limit with the situation himself.

“Then it wasn’t weird, that the admissions list didn’t confirm intake of any of the residents. Y’telling us the Vault never opened for use.” Geek stalled in place, everything clicking in that moment, and he slowly picked his head up to glare up in a near-rage at Hancock, who immediately shied from the top of the shaft to pace away from the pink ghoul’s line of sight. “Vault 114. You told me about this place back at the Vault-Tec office. Just how drunk was I that day, not to put it all together until now? You knew. You knew what’s down here. You’re bein’ clean cut straightforward with the two of us right. Now. We deserve it.”

“I’m starting to think both you and Bobbi had the same bad habits.” ‘Choly sniffed with a dismissive sneer. “Come on, Bobbi. Out with it. What were you two doing at a Vault-Tec office?”

“I--” Hancock flustered at the comparison and pursed his cigarette in his lips to shove his hands in his jean pockets stiffly, eyes wide. “I’d hoped you’d catch my drift a lot sooner, is all. I haven’t been lying, just... misleading. Didn’t think I’d have to spell it all out, to be fair. Don’t be too hard on yourself for not rememberin’ everything from the Vault-Tec office, Geek. It was a lot of information to take in at once. Really, I only know what Nick’s told me. It’s not like I had a key inside before now. He and Skinny have history. I think he just finally got unlucky enough to get on Skinny’s bad side.”

“...Hey, nerd.” Geek ate his cigarette filter while he eyed the stuff in the room he’d jumped down into. “That wristwatch keep good time?”

“It’s eighteenth hour,” ‘Choly replied, convinced their entourage had failed.

“Oh, good. We’re in sync.” He dropped his Pip-Boy arm to his side again. “I don’t know how your vault was set up, but I know in my gut that door at the start’s gotta be the main entrance. Gimme two hours with y’all tryin’ t’get it open quiet-like before you go an’ do anything louder, yeah?”

“We’ll give you one,” Hancock insisted, hating the idea of leaving him on his own that long.

“Ideally, we’ll get in easily,” ‘Choly agreed. “If we get in before you get out, meet us in the Overseer’s office. If there is one. Okay?”

“Into the labyrinth.” He blew Hancock a kiss and traversed deeper, down a hall, and through a pocket door around the corner.

Geek found a box of Abraxo Powder on the ground near some lockers, and he picked it up to absently crack open the corner with a jammed-in thumb. Hancock’s juryrigged fence-muzzle thwarted the attempt to pour some in his mouth and he growled to himself as the soap went everywhere but. With a huffed grunt, he tucked the box open-end-up into his jumpsuit next to his heart and zipped back up.

A glance out the window in the wall showed the first real fixture of a true vault which anyone encountered upon entry: the Atrium, a large open social area with a ceiling at least two stories high. Cafeteria bench tables and unpacked shipping crates littered the floor space at the bottom, and a balcony ran the full perimeter of the second floor. He nearly wondered if he were down here all alone after all, but overheard a one-sided conversation taking place. The pink ghoul crept around the corner hall and out onto the second story balcony, and eavesdropped on a man on the third story balcony, arguing with someone behind a porthole. That has to be the Overseer’s office. Slowly, he crept up the stairs.

“--Feelin’ hungry? Wanna snack?” The Triggerman in a black trilby jeered. The response sobered him, and he sneered. “Don’t gimme that crap, Valentine. You know nothin’, you got nothin’.” Another pause hushed him. “Three strikes...? In the black book...? But I never-- Ohh no. I gotta smooth this out, an’ fast!”

The Triggerman bolted for the stairs, and Geek reflexively jutted his foot out to trip him. With him face-down, Geek grabbed him by a fistful of hair and from behind slashed his throat with Cronus, then tossed down the body and stood back up. From inside the locked office, the sound of a brassy, gruff Chicago accent cut off the pink ghoul’s relieved sigh.

“Hey, you. I don’t know who you are, but we got three minutes before they realize muscles-for-brains ain’t comin’ back. Get this door open.”

He peered through the porthole, to find very little light and the silhouette of a figure in a trenchcoat and fedora. The terminal beside the locked door required a password, and he didn’t trust his luck. Looking for a holotape key, he patted down the Triggerman who’d kept watch on their captive, and snapped his fingers in success before returning to the terminal with it to instruct the computer to disengage the lock. The vertical pocket door slid up and down in two pieces, and Geek stood there a moment taking in the presence of the person he was bailing out. The detective lit a cigarette, but the smell didn’t mask the familiar lubricants and coolants which belied a human silhouette. He stared into the synth’s glowing golden eyes.

“Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario,” the detective quipped wryly. “Question is, why did our hero risk his life and limb for an old private eye?”

“Call... it a favor for a friend.” Geek consciously endeavored to steady his breathing, and he’d already begun to salivate. Damn my luck, that I found him before Hancock and ‘Choly did. Feeling like some kind of feral animal, he squirmed that he could only stare at the exposed armature of the detective’s right hand as it drew the cigarette up to his lips to take another hit. He swallowed his own cigarette butt and shuddered, unable to determine whether nicotine did a thing for a construct that didn’t even have lungs. Let alone that a good bit of the smoke escaped through a gap in the cheek flesh. “Y-- y’not like that other synths I’ve met.”

“One of a kind, he shined with a wink. “The name’s Nick Valentine. To whom do I owe the pleasure of my freedom?”

“I’m the Geek,” he blurted out. “An’ a certain mayor led me, another guy, and the guy’s robot down here under the hunch we’d find you here.”

“Look, I know the skin and the metal parts ain’t comforting, but it’s not important right now.” Out of jaded habit, Valentine tried to distract Geek from the jarring artificial appearance of his weathered, damaged shell leaving swaths of his armature exposed throughout the left side of his face and all down his neck. “I’ve been cooped up in here for weeks. Only so many times a body can listen to the same three holotape interviews. ...Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn’t kidnapped. She’s Skinny Malone’s new flame, and she’s got a mean streak. Like I said, though, now ain’t the time. Let’s blow this joint. Then we’ll talk.”

“G-- g-- good idea. Nnnowait. I. I. I need t’do somethin’ first.” Shakily, Geek sat at the C-shaped Overseer’s desk and browsed the terminal for a moment. He pocketed the three aforementioned holotapes from the desktop, and stood right back up in frustration. “Damn, it’s just a welcome note for the Overseer. Dunno what I expected. Damn vault never opened for residence.”

“Well that certainly explains why Skinny didn’t have to clear out the previous tenants. An empty vault. Perfect hideout.”

“When they locked you in here, they patted you down, didn’t they?” Geek asked on the way out.

“Unfortunately,” Nick replied. “Hopefully you can keep it hot enough for the both of us.”

“Well, if you’re good with a gun.” Geek handed over a box of .44 bullets and his bull barrel pistol with a sly boredom. “I negotiate with my fists, personally.”

“A pleasant surprise. Appreciate the insurance.”

“Don’t sweat it,” the ghoul grinned.

Geek let Valentine show the way, and the synth detective cut back the way Geek had come, then continued down to the bottom floor to the Atrium. Shipping crates littered the balcony and the space under the stairs, and were piled high against the Atrium walls. Suddenly, Valentine crouched and whispered,

“How do you want to play this?”

The pair peered at the five Triggermen who’d ambled out to investigate the brief commotion from before. Geek let it speak for him, to don his knuckledusters and slip out to dance. Given the element of surprise, he and Valentine dispatched them with the slightest scuff. While Geek caught his breath, he wandered the area and eyed the labels on the crates. One of them had been marked ‘Vault 111: decompression chamber coolant’ and his head tilted askew at the cryogenics warnings all over it. Three rows down, he stopped dead and stared. ‘Vault 82: hydroponics bay kit.’

“Hard and loud, huh? Well, gets the job done. Too bad for whoever cleans up the floors.”

“--Aw fuck me, Hancock owes me a nuke. I told him they never got to 82, half or all.” Geek popped off the lid and looked inside. He peered at the various parts which would have become elevated gardening trays. “Not that it does any good now.”

“Something tells me you came down here for more than little old me.”

“Guilty. If anything else labeled Vault 82 catches your eye, tell me.”

“So some wires got crossed, and shipments ended up unintended places. Not remotely surprised. In case you hadn’t noticed, construction of this place must have been overseen by the Grandchester family.”

“You’ve been to Nuka World!” Geek’s head whipped up with the childlike wonder of a toddler, and he stared at Nick. “Oh man I haven’t been since I was nine!”

“You don’t say.” Valentine clicked his tongue in affirmative. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled. Vault 82.”

As they continued on through the utility section of the vault, Geek felt very small and very distracted. He decided to pop a holotape into his Pip-Boy to listen to one at random. When Nick gave him the stinkeye, he turned it back off with sorry on his face.

“At least you picked the one interesting narrative among them. Got them all memorized, with them being the only thing to keep me sane locked up in the Overseer’s office. That’s the interview with the individual they selected as the Overseer. Soup Can Harry. Thought taxes paid for Illuminati free mason sex parties. Refused to wear pants. And ate soap explicitly to spite the ‘not for consumption’ label. They really picked a diamond in the rough with that one.”

“Part of the Vault-Tec experiment was to put the most infuriating and unrelenting idiot in charge of the vault. Hate to say I halfway fit the bill, if what you said describes the guy accurately. I could’a run the damn place.”

They passed the Depot and Geek detoured at the smell of more soap. The string of lockers that lined all four walls lay open and mostly empty, barring four boxes of Abraxo spilled around a skeleton which looked like its owner had crawled into the locker to eat to his heart’s content. The pink ghoul took one sealed box, but let the poor soul have the rest.

“You, too, huh?” Geek quipped, melancholy, as he shook the box. “Guess I was wrong about none of the residents ever makin’ it here.”

“Come on,” Nick hushed in agitation. “I just got the door to the stairwell open. It was malfunctioning, but we can keep moving now.”

Past the lavatories and showers, they cut to the stairs, to be met with a variety of directional arrows, which indicated to take the stairs if one so desired the residentials, laundry, cafeteria, nursery, or exit zone they sought. Nick hugged a door frame to shoot a Triggerman who’d been seated with his feet kicked up. Geek ambled up to the body to collect the comic he’d been reading, and his eyes lit up again as he skimmed through it.

“‘The Man Who Could Stop Time!’ Ohh man, this is one of the ones I never got. I used t’have a real big Astoundingly Awesome Tales collection.”

“Heh, it’s all yours, kid.”

They cut through the Residential zone, the layout of which connected rooms in such a way as to provide zero privacy and also house as many heads per room as humanly possible. Just the thought of as many as ten people being forced to live in the same tiny room together made Geek’s skin crawl, but the synth seemed to have his mind too much on escaping undetected to hypothesize how the vault experiment might have played out given the chance. A few Triggermen napped on the bunk beds, and the pair eliminated them easily before any woke to the intrusion.

“More stairs?” Nick scoffed as they took another flight. “Who built this damn vault, a fitness instructor?”

Finally, he got a laugh out of Geek, and the tension cut a bit.

Another hallway with the laundromat and storage closets yielded all manner of loot for Geek, who spent hardly any time or hesitation absconding with anything pocket-sized. He stepped into the cafeteria last, disappointed to find it was little more than a restaurant kitchen with an a la carte window. He turned the cafeteria upside-down when he didn’t find a single paste dispenser, and pocketed all the flatware he could put his hands on. Rejoining an exasperated Valentine, he patted his chests contentedly just to hear the fistfuls of utensils jangling together.

“You sure have deep pockets.”

“Deep pockets, and an appetite that won’t quit.”

“Skinny Malone and the rest of his boys are waiting for us, somewhere. The names, uh, ironic, but don’t let that fool you. He’s dangerous.”

Geek frowned. Surely they wouldn’t be ambushed by dozens of Triggermen.

They hit a dead end with another malfunctioning vertical pocket door. When Valentine announced he’d get it open with little effort, Geek inspected the various Vault-Tec shipping boxes for mailing labels which might have indicated anything further. The pink ghoul didn’t find anything but a pair of royal blue vault suits labeled on the back in large bold gold letters ‘114.’ With an eye roll he stuffed them into his jumpsuit along with the Abraxo, and flattened them down down without crushing the boxes so he could zip up. He started pacing and snacking once he no longer sufficiently felt he could distract himself.

“Okay, got it. But I head a big commotion on the other side and everything went quiet. This door was jammed, not locked, so whoever’s out there might have had the same trouble getting in as we are gettin’ out. Once we step through this door, get ready for anything.” He glanced up to catch Geek slipping table knives through the fence-muzzle gaps to swallow them, and the pink ghoul froze red-handed. “I take it the name’s not ironic.”

“I eat when I’m nervous.”

“Suppose that’s fair.”

“--Did y’say a buncha noise out there then silence?” Geek clenched his teeth. “I really hope that’s not the door I think it is.”

“Only one way to find out.”

#nick valentine #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #vault 114 #fallout #geek #the purkinje effect

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praviarts · 6 years ago

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Paradoxical Panoramas

1: The Love Agenda

In a modern free world, there are advocates of love that talked about the tragedy of homosexuality. The preach was to promote the rightful love and eliminate the sinful, fraud ones. On favorable public receptivity, it reached an overwhelming numbers of intellectual and ignorant minds. This single belief became a global movement -- arousing the pros and anti. Later on, it became an ideology of the fundamental institutions of conservative culture. The selective hate for those who were loving the people of their same sex was a massive hypocrisy on the universal love they were promoting from the very beginning.

2: The Self Positivity

Admit it or not, the most avid hater of ourselves is ourselves. At one time, you are having a positive self-talk and encouragement, but a minute later, you are starting to belittle yourself and your life. The critical judgment of how good or bad we are is placed upon the comparison of how good or bad other people are. This hypocritical moment perpetuates when we put tyrannical conditions before we allow ourselves to be authentically loved by ourselves.

Do you recognize that most of the time people only adore us when we do good, and despise when otherwise? This is exactly how society do to us that we actually apply to ourselves in our daily living.

3: The Illusion of Time

Time is a concept that indicates the occurrence of something. It tells us the before, during, and after scenes of a process. Its utility as a social construct brings a mutual understanding in our daily communication. However, have we already unraveled the mystery of its very true nature? Does it only exist because we, humans, think it exist? Or is its existence naturally happening?

Let us discuss aging, which is under the concept of time. Truth be told, age is an indication of the length of our existence, yet the confusion arises when we question the process of it. Does aging happen because of time? Do millions of minutes and hours have an effect on our bodies? Or is aging just a product of maturation that is genetically programmed in our DNA? Some wild guesses to these questions are that time happens, and has an indirect impact to our physicality. But the satisfaction of curiosity will long be satiated. We are still far from the reach of pure reality. Just like the existence of "mind and self", time is not yet proven existing.

Note: My friends helped me to arrive to certain assumptions about the third topic. I gathered their opinions and integrate it to my ideas. The brainstorming process was really great in generating valuable ideas. I credit Jerik and Jerica for helping me on “The Illusion of Time”. Thank you!

I hope y’all give also your opinions about the mentioned topics above. These are intended to spark your curiosity into delving more on the analysis of your beliefs and knowledge of our world.

#spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #essay #poem #poets on tumblr #poetry #curiosity #lgbtq #queer

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an-avid-reader · 6 years ago

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Shadows (Lux 0.5) - Jennifer L. Armentrout

my rating: 3/5 stars

After losing her father, Katy and her mom move across the country to West Virginia. With her luck, Katy’s new neighbour is pleasing to the eyes…maybe even abnormally so. But that’s not all, this town has its secrets–maybe that’s just how small towns are. Little does Katy know that her new neighbours Daemon and Dee are more than they appear to be. As Katy is swept into Daemon and Dee’s lives, she quickly learns that they are aliens; as she spends more time with them, Katy has an aura which makes her a target to other aliens. Paradoxically, Katy must be protected by the twins while also losing the aura before she gets killed

In this prequel, we follow Dawson and Bethany's story as opposed to Katy's story. The book alters between their perspectives, as well as some of the other characters from the series.

As I've already read the lux series, I am giving you a warning that there are spoilers in this review (both regarding the series and the prequel itself). My overall vibe of this novel is a deja vu to Obsidian but with two different main characters and everything happens in a shorter amount of time (the book is only ~160 pages total).

Link to Goodreads || Spoilers in review

Alright, so I’m going to be completely honest, during the first half of the book or so, I thought that this prequel wasn’t really necessary as it feels very, very similar to Obsidian and in some ways, I feel like it actually spoils Obsidian. Essentially, there is less of an emphasis on the whole alien thing, which makes sense, because I feel like most people would read this after reading the main books (although it is a prequel). Nevertheless, we got the whole spew on Lux, the Luxen, but the Arum? They didn’t appear to be a huge part of the story. The actual plot was more about the romance and building Dawson and Bethany’s characters as well as their relationship together.

I appreciate how Bethany and Katy have very different personalities; their backgrounds are completely different, and they also reacted slightly differently to learning about the alien part of their significant others (I mean, they did both accept it and embraced it, but that’s besides my point). I feel like sometimes, having a large cast of characters, it can be difficult to distinguish the main characters--yes, they should be different but in order for the story to be semi realistic, there should be some flaws as well as strengths, their (living) situation should also be believable ya know . In this installment, we got to see both Dawson and Bethany’s strengths and weaknesses due to the way the book was written (I will touch more about this further on). As for Bethany’s character, she’s an artist, she likes to paint. I found that her creative outlet was less exposed than Katy’s interests, but given that the book is pretty short, I can understand why we didn’t go into too much detail for her work, school, etc. There was one part that boggled my mind though--so essentially, we know that Bethany’s uncle is diagnosed with an illness, which, at first we don’t know what it is. I was astonished when her reaction was “some sort of blood disease” shortly after we learn that he has chemo going for him. O.o ….girrrrrl…. Bethany’s innocence (??) is also present when she’s in gym class with Kimmy. I genuinely thought Bethany was going to buy the “oh Dawson’s a player” like come on, Dawson is literally the nicest guy/alien (him and Adam tbh). Alas, Bethany had that voice in her head telling her that Kimmy is wrong, and thank goodness for that. I know it wasn’t the main part of the story, but I do wish there was some more interaction between Bethany and her family, especially after she introduced Dawson to her family. Also, am I the only one who thought that her uncle was super suspicious?? When he was asking Bethany about Dawson and just casually brings up that Dawson is a strange boy (or something along those lines), I 100% overanalyzed the scene because...well...nothing ever happened with her uncle, but they way he brought it up seemed so off; I thought it was going to go further like “oh hey I’m part of the DOD”....Imagine if that ever happened….yikessss.

For Dawson, I felt like he was a puppy/golden retriever personality; right off the bat he seemed like such a nice guy (in contrast to Daemon awww). I definitely felt like Bethany/Dawson’s personalities clicked well--their relationship, though fast, felt as natural as it could’ve been given the length of the book; they went through the awkward phase and then the rest of the book is basically the honeymoon phase of a relationship. Dawson asking Bethany if he could kiss her = cute + pure. It’s not something I’ve come across in many books to be completely honest. At first I found that Dawson and Daemon were similar (for one, they are both absolutely obsessed with legs????), but over the course of the book, as we get to know more about Dawson, we learn that he has a great relationship with his sister, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. While Daemon aided Katy in small ways to make her aura slowly grow more and more, Dawson went full speed when he transitioned into his true form for the first time in front of Bethany; he then proceeded to do the same thing as Daemon (or I guess Daemon did the same thing as Dawson) regarding mending Bethany’s injuries and technically bringing her back to life. Dawson literally put his life in danger for Bethany, and made sure that she was safe and alive...do I need to go on?? Part of me wants to say that Dawson is such an underrated character lol.

Like I previously mentioned, it was really during the second half of the novel where we got to see Dawson and Bethany’s relationship blossom, and I think part of the reason was because of the way it was written. Armentrout managed to smoothly transition from one point of view to the other--this applies to when the perspective would change for the same scene (i.e. together, when they make out for the first time), to pushing the plot forwards (i.e. going home, living their lives separately). I want to say that Armentrout’s writing has improved due to how smooth these transitions were, but ultimately, I think she did a pretty good job in the other novels. Initially, I couldn’t really find a difference in her writing as the plots to Shadows and Obsidian have a lot of overlap (tbh, I wasn’t as addicted because it felt like deja vu). At the end of the day, I think it really came down to the characters.

For the ones we already know, here are some of my brief thoughts:

Dee: her personality felt different depending on who’s perspective it was (I’m not sure if that was intentional or not). During the restaurant scene when Dee meets Bethany for the first time, Dee sort of scared me...I think that if I were in Beth’s shoes I would’ve been so confused.

Andrew/Ash: okay, that threat (especially right before everything went down), not cool y’all. I guess once a douche always a douche (that’s more for Andrew). I don’t really have much to say about Ash; there was some Daemon/Ashely romance sprinkled here and there but their relationship always seems iffy.

Adam: honestly, a sweetheart. I’m glad Dee ends up being a relationship with him.

Matthew: he wasn’t really present in this book as much as Obsidian, but I guess that makes sense as there hasn’t been a situation yet. Also, I didn’t realize how many teachers at their high school were Luxen until Bethany mentioned that she got a lot of weird looks.

Daemon: I just love the irony when Daemon makes a pact with himself after learning about Bethany and Dawson’s deaths that he’ll never date a human. Just you wait my dude. You can definitely sense Daemon’s frustration and anger after the DOD announced that Dawon is dead--he is so determined to keep his family safe, but in doing so, he comes off as a dick to Katy.

The DOD: oh my god are these guys so suspicious from the gecko. “Dawson’s dead but there’s no body” like hello??? Daemon is right, humans are vague (“he’s gone”). It’s such a heartbreaking scene but they seem to not give a damn :// I feel you, Daemon, I feel ya.

Overall, I’m unsure about this book. Since the plot line is basically like Obsidian (even down to the climax, it’s an Arum attacking a Luxen, which isn’t much of a surprise). That being said, when Katy finally learns about Dawson/Bethany getting killed, it comes up frequently enough to spark an interest to learn more about their relationship (as well as to know more about them because they don’t have much of a spotlight). To be frank, I don’t regret reading this after already completing the Lux series--otherwise, I feel like I would’ve accidentally come across a spoiler. I think this is one of those prequels that’s best off to be read after the fact, or not at all as it doesn’t really add that much value to the story, but that’s just my opinion.

If you’ve read this book/series, I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions about it! Let’s chat, I’m curious =D

Thank you for reading my review, I hope you are having a sumptuous day, wherever you are in the world!

~ Cassandra / an-avid-reader

#just one more ~ queue #book review #lux #jennifer l armentrout #luxen #obsidian #opal #shadows #opposition #onxy #origin #reviews #book #booklr #reading #read #reader

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hackingxbiochemist · 8 years ago

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Reaction to AoS“Self-Control”- 4x15

This is what running through my mind during the episode, enjoy my non-stop rants! Sorry for the excessive use of capslock, it really reflects my emotion :”)

-Okayy, starting off, Aida creeps me out by now. Eventhough I don’t know how she manages to switch 4 bodies in a matter of time with LMDs. Wait, what is she gonna do to the Russian?

-Fitzsimmons trying to figure out to beat the other LMDs. Jemma is freaking out, she is damn scared.

-So, the plan is to call all Inhumans and terminate them? Real smooth guys.

-Shit. Those LMDs are creeping me out, Mace, Coulson, Mack and Daisy are so intimidating.

-A Philinda scene, they are close to getting what they want, to end up with each other. But not like this Coulson, not like this. Even May disagree with you.

-Fitzsimmons is going to a separate place to figure out a plan, and *beep* LMD detected!

-Yas Simmons yas! Pick up that gun, protect yourself! But wait, Fitz might also be true, Simmons can also be the robot. Losing my mind, which one of the two is the LMD? :o

-Okaay, Fitz is grabbing the knife, he’s cutting his wrist and.... OOOH! He is human! He bleeds! Well, that means it’s...

-WHAT THE HELL?! FITZ?! OH GOD, THAT’S A PRETTY GOOD LMD YOU GOT THERE YOU LYING SON OF A --! That is not right Fitz, you can’t just stab Simmons’ thigh while she was vulnerable and guilty. SHE THOUGHT YOU WERE REAL AND YOU DO THIS TO REPAY HER?! Well I know it’s just and LMD but I’m still berating Fitz. :p

-Well, now we’re back in the submarine, and we see now that it is actually Fitz that is switched, so that means Daisy and Jemma is the real human in the base. Shit, this is exciting *my Skimmons-sense is tingling*...

-Fitz is pure evil, I can see it now. AND WHAT?! HE STILL HAS THE NERVES TO BRING UP MARRIAGE TO JEMMA? NO! NO! NO!

- GO JEMMA GO GIRL! Yasss, stab Fitz, stab him again and again, put an end to it! No way, Fitz, you cannot beg your way out of this, it disgusts me! Oh god! There’s that evil crazy LMD Fitz we knew! Cold-bloodedly choking Jemma, it’s not okay Fitz!

-Right to the neck, yes Jemma, good job! One LMD down!

-DAMN! THAT CONTAINMENT ROOM! Oh god, that’s creepy, there’s a little army of Daisy’s LMD, boyyy, this is some weird ass sci-fi shit happening here. Daisy is terrified. Of course, who doesn’t?! It’s not everyday you get to see not one but a dozen of your clones in a room right?

-That camouflage between the LMDs is dope, yo! Go Daisy! #quake

-And well, there she is, only in her underwear ;) *very satisfied with the scene*

-Now Daisy knows, her friends are all replaced by the LMDs, and it’s crazy that she thought the real Fitz was dead. No Daisy, it’s just those crazy LMDs.

-She spots the blood. Follow the blood Daisy, follow it!

-MY BABIES ARE FINALLY MEETING EACH OTHER! #SKIMMONS

-This. Is. Intense. Both Daisy and Jemma is in a mixture of fear and anger, holding their weapons against each other, they both are so badass. They both need proof. Jemma is scared, she did not trust Daisy. But hell, I am a 100% sure that Daisy really trusts Jemma, she is not afraid, she will proof that they are both human.

-Daisy then moves swiftly... what are she gonna do? AND BOOM! THERE IT IS! YES! THE HUG! YES! YES! *crying in tears of joy* DAISY HOLDS JEMMA RIGHT THERE AND PROVES THAT THEY ARE BOTH HUMAN! Hold me pls I’m dying with excitement #skimmonsforever

-THE HUG IS SO BEAUTIFUL. BEST. HUG. EVER.

-Still can’t move on from the hug up until now #sorrynotsorry

-They both made a plan, and Daisy just melts my heart, she is willing to take all of those agents down, alone, just so Jemma can live.

-”I can’t lose you too!”- Dr. Jemma Simmons #skimmonsquote2k17

-AND WHAT DAISY SAID NEXT REALLY RUINED THE SCENES.

-JUST WHY DID YOU HAVE TO SAY THAT, DAISY???

-Let’s move on to the next scenes, my emotions are wailing and flying right now, it is so mixed up. I am happy yet disappointed.

-Moving on, Aida talks to Dr. Radcliffe about those paradox between protecting the Framework but Dr. Radcliffe could stop her any time if he changes his mind. Dr. Radcliffe assures her that he won’t, Aida smiles and... OH GOD AIDA! THAT WAS SAVAGE! I feel bad for Radcliffe, but he kinda deserves it, he was the one who started this whole crazy mess. Some people just never change. #Ithoughtyouwerebetterthanthis

-I just had the greatest idea to make an AU where Skimmons are field partner, they make a very good team! #OFCOURSEDUH

-DAISY YOU NEVER CEASE TO AMAZE ME! Oh man, it was crazy and so badass, those quake balls she made to destroy Mack and Coulson’s LMD? Oh god, I just can’t. #quakeisawesome

-And Jemma’s face when she says “I would have said ‘I told you so’ but...” THIS IS PRICELESS.

-YES AND THEY ARE BACK AGAIN! Daisy can barely moves, she do it all for Jemma. How sweet is this. They are almost out. BUT...*dun dun dun*

-OMG MAY! Y U THERE?! *badassly sitting on explosives, getting ready to give a press on the trigger*

-B-b-but...how can she? Are you thinking what I’m thinking? MAY IS GOOD MAY IS STRONG MAY IS ALWAYS FIGHTING. #MelindaMaymyhero

-What the heck Coulson? You will get what you deserved, just wait and see.

-BOOM! Jemma, Daisy and the rest of the team is barely escaping, but they still manage to fly the Zephyr out. Oh man, that hand-holding! Tell me it’s not gay! #theydoloveeachother

-Yo-Yo is here guys! Yes! And there she is pissed off, mumbling in Spanish. Lol #kween

-So this is it, Daisy and Jemma decides to plunge into the Framework to save their team. Their interactions are so precious. That stare before they will be send into the Framework? Oh man, it’s priceless! #skimmonsplease

-And there we go, they’re in the framework, wait...Daisy wakes up and there’s a man on her bed, NO WAY NO GOD NO WAY! NO WHY IS WARD THERE?!?! WHY THE HECK!!!! NOOOOOO! *spiraling out*

-Coulson... what are you writing on the board?! Why are you being a teacher? YOU DON’T BELONG THERE!!!!! *nervously tapping my keyboard*

-Mack’s daughter is still alive, he now lives with his family. BUT WHAT ABOUT YO-YO? WHERE SHE AT? *panicking, telling myself that this is not right*

-Whoa, Fitz. Looking dapper there, my friend! He takes someone’s hand from the limo *I just hope that it’s not Jemma cause hey, we still need Skimmons!*

-WAAIIIITTT! WHAT IS THAT?! A GRAVESTONE?? *zooming in on the name* NOOOOOOOO!!!! THIS IS NOT REAL! GET ME OUT OF HERE! PLEASE, ANYBODY HELP! THIS ISN’T HAPPENING!! *panick attack hits me while I’m starting to shout in despair*

-*trying to gather my composure, assuring myself that this is not real* Hmm, May looks okay, she is fine as hell, her badass self is standing in a lift, as it ascends. Well, she must be the Director of SHIELD, man, I’ve been waiting for this...hey wait..wait a minutee...WHATTTT?!?!?!?!? HYDRA?!?! WHAT THE HECK?! #whatislyf #whydidilive #whatisthis #isthisreallife #noitsnot #shitjustgotreal

-The last scene between Aida and the Russian is creepy. Every scene with Aida is creepy. But we know for sure, the Russian man is an LMD now. #meh #itsnobigdealafterwhatijustsawpreviously

Well, there it is! My verryy long reaction and thoughts about this episode. I still just can’t get over it. This episode blows my mind. Good job Jed Whedon for a powerful episode.. And of course great job to my loves, Chloe and Liz. Y’all are awesome! #skimmonsforever

#skimmons #agentsofshield #reaction #chloebennet #elizabethhenstridge #daisyjohnson #skye #jemmasimmons

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tinymixtapes · 6 years ago

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Feature: Favorite 25 Films of 2018

Once upon a time, Derek Smith wrote: “2017 was a year endured rather than lived.” But all due respect to the past, because here we are creeping into this new 2019 and things are so much better than we thought they’d be! True, the year probably felt like 37 years or whatever removed from Rick Deckard’s squared-off tie and malfunctioning memory. And truth be told, the political crisis unfolding in the gray hallways might seem more honest if it resembled the light-starved, gnarled noir of Blade Runner. At least Schwarzenegger and The Running Man promised that 2019’s only choice would be “hard time or prime time,” even if its presentation of a neon capital, corporate-owned world seemed, you know, subtle. And for all the (dead) kids in cages and bodies bleeding out on street corners here and abroad, Michael Bay and The Island had a perfectly-drooped Buscemi diagnosing our humanist crisis: “I mean, you’re not human. I mean, you’re human, but you’re not real. You’re not a real person, like me.” A lot of people were told they weren’t humans in 2018. This isn’t a writerly evasion or poetic epithet designed to elicit righteous ire/compel you to read another year-end list. Because what else could you call the concentrated attempt by some humans to discourage the freedoms of other humans? Our narrative didn’t turn science-fiction to let us off the hook: these non-humans weren’t clones or replicants or estranged Atlantean denizens returning to claim their kingly right. They just weren’t human enough (or the right kind of human) to matter in the eyes of louder, more powerful humans. All of our past’s proposed images of our worst futures pale in comparison to this denial of basic humanity that we see out our windows. It is unsurprising, then, that cinema, our most volatile cultural mirror, began to show the stretch and strain in its images of our species. But what is surprising is that cinema in 2018 retained nuance and compassion as it mediated the cruelties and depravities of its age. Unlike this slab of prose, movies in 2018 moved beyond mediating good and evil in simple, monolithic terms. They attempted to sketch the boundaries of real freedom in an unjust world (BlaKkKlansman). They investigated, more acutely than ever before, the responsibilities of what it meant to keep (Shirkers) and tell (Madeline’s Madeline) another human’s story (If Beale Street Could Talk), especially in remembrance (Roma). They presented distorted genealogies (Hereditary) and fisheye-lens histories (The Favourite) to track the human body’s motion (Suspiria) in and out of comradeship (Support the Girls) and trauma (Burning). In 2018, we hurled our betrayed humanities up against foreign corpses (Zama), scorched country (The Ballad of Buster Scruggs), alien twins (Annihilation), and incongruent voices (Sorry to Bother You). We began to see, in everything, something like a way through the darkness. Why else keep watching the past (The Other Side of the Wind) if not to plot something we’d never imagined before (The Night Is Short, Walk On Girl)? Our moving images in 2018 proposed that real love (Eighth Grade) and genuine care (Lazzaro Felice) could stretch impossibly across time to add up to a life steeped in both nuance and compassion (Won’t You Be My Neighbor?). Our love would not look the same (Leave No Trace) nor could it resound in strictly-feasible tones (Mandy), but we would recognize its absence; we could see that sometimes humanness looks like something we’ve never seen before (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse). More than anything, as one derelict theory proposed, “Through the negative you could see the real, inner, demonic quality of the light.” In laying the responsibilities of the filmmaker and artist at the feet of a murderer, The House That Jack Built came perilously close to endorsing our worst demons. Those demons shook and raged and hissed at us, urging us to give in to despair and make a world in their image. How did we let it stand? Thomas Merton was a central figure in a figurative, feral lens for our year, and he wrote that “despair is the absolute extreme of self-love.” To levy our humanity so close to inhumanness, suggesting that our better angels are distortions, is dangerous. To know, as these 25 films know, that there can be nothing without despair until there is love is to actually be human. To look, as we did, through our ruinous year and resist the despairs of all our oppressors and lowest urges, to shout, in image and montage and light and shadow, that this is how I deny you is to attain, beyond our humanity and into the future, a new kind of prayer. –Frank Falisi --- 25 Roma Dir. Alfonso Cuarón [Netflix] Roma was Alfonso Cuarón’s excursion into simplicity, a self-imposed challenge that drew back from his earlier, more extravagant films. Cuarón told his simple allegory in a monochrome treatment, but while wearing multiple hats — he also produced, shot, and edited the film. The choice to go black and white not only focused the elements of filmmaking to its barest essentials, but it also emphasized its nostalgic underpinnings. Though it made use of elaborate staging for its more chaotic events, Roma paradoxically found fascination in the quotidian and the mundane. The film was dedicated to the maid that the Cuarón’s family employed when he was a child — realized as the previously unknown Yalitza Aparicio, who brought an indelible humanity to her role — but the story itself was secondary. It was presented more as a series of tableaus, culminating in a climactic sequence at the beach. Here, Cuarón’s camera lingered, unedited, in a harrowing scene that illustrated Aparicio’s undying devotion to the family and revealed the film’s true heart. –Tristan Kneschke --- 24 Won’t You Be My Neighbor? Dir. Morgan Neville [Focus Features] With no dirt to dig up on his subject, director Morgan Neville tended to accent the blue-tinged notes heard throughout the Neighborhood in his Fred Rogers documentary. The director’s seamless cardigan scene-weaving stitched together instances of cluster chords and doubting puppets into a portrait of vulnerability that reinforced one of Rogers’s core motifs: It takes a person, not a hero, to protect children. Not a pie-in-the-face kind of guy, we watched Fred McFeely Rogers ponder in the tall grass in between changing shoes and tackling hard topics like grief, death, and terrorism. Demonstrations of his honesty, inclusivity, kindness, patience, listening skills, and unconditional love revealed the subject as the archetype for a timeless paternal figure. Although his ministry athwart sensationalism took place in the era of broadcast television, we imagined that any younger generation in the history of the world could connect with and feel empowered by his carefully worded and well-tempered mission. –Rick Weaver --- 23 Leave No Trace Dir. Debra Granik [Bleecker Street] Few directors are as curious about or sensitive to alternative modes of existence as Debra Granik, who followed Winter’s Bone and the documentary Stray Dog with this tale of a father and daughter willfully attempting to live off the grid in the present-day Pacific Northwest. Leave No Trace was quiet and deliberate, but not remotely uneventful: Granik showed Will (Ben Foster) and Tom (Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie) moving through a handful of makeshift, scrappy, and industrialized communities. With minimal embellishments, Granik made each change of scenery feel at once seismic and utterly authentic. Moreover, she guided her two lead actors through agonizing psychological arcs without a whiff of cliché, as a daughter gradually discovered that her life and well-being will be enriched by community, while her PTSD-afflicted father confronted the fact that he can’t abide by the obligations and niceties of modern civilization. Granik’s film had a Bressonian bleakness, but it was entirely heartfelt and so convincing in its particulars that it couldn’t help but realign our sense of the world. –Christopher Gray --- 22 Support the Girls Dir. Andrew Bujalski [Magnolia Pictures] Your workdays don’t end with you back home ready to decompress; they are your back-home and your decompress. Maybe you slept or something like that (scrolled? drank? had a crisis?), but you aren’t really awake till the first table is seated, and you better leave everything else at the door (lol). Your customers are guests, your wage is nil, and your smile is forced by uninvisible hands. Your coworkers are either No Face or your own flesh and blood, the only ones keeping your head from falling off and bursting into flame at the foot of the heat lamp. They get it! They get you. Or they get the gist, which is about as much of you as you get anyway. Because if you actually stopped to think about… No need to pretend: You hate this place, and you find yourself doing anything for it, for each other, because you all know the conditions are absolutely fucked and fuck that. Your favorite regular is here; you’re in a good mood for some reason. You act certifiable, you scream, you screw your head back on. The POS is down. You’re short. You make it. Your coworker says, “[That manager] can suck my dick.” Or, “I am going to murder this couple.” Or, “Y’all come back now!” You loved her for that. This movie loved her for that, through all of it, and it loved you too. A double whammy: Regina Hall et al. returned the workday to life itself and transformed working class unity into grace (laughter), something we could use. You have nothing to lose. –Pat Beane --- 21 Eighth Grade Dir. Bo Burnham [A24] In an interview with NPR, former YouTube star Bo Burnham said he wanted to make a story about the internet and how it feels to be alive right now. OK, sure, he succeeded in doing that by having 13-year-old Kayla Day (Elsie Fisher) create and upload vlog entries on how to best navigate the social anxieties of being a young teen. However, by the end of the film, what this angle really emphasized with great nuance (perhaps unintentionally?) is that children of every generation — regardless of the gap — suffer from the same anxieties, sexual insecurities, and self-blame. Identity has always been a fluid performance; the internet has simply made it more permanent. To star a young girl currently living the same age IRL that she portrays brilliantly in the film is in large part what made Eighth Grade not only one of our favorite films of 2018, but also one of the most genuine coming-of-age films, period. This casting decision made it impossible for Burnham to project his experiences and memories onto the story, which fortunately meant it was not biographical or about nostalgia. Rather, Eighth Grade was simply a present-day story about a complex experience that has always transcended the outlets through which they’ve been mediated. –NB [pagebreak] 20 Suspiria Dir. Luca Guadagnino [Produzioni Atlas Consorziate] In 1980, during Italy’s “years of lead,” Bologna Station, built in neoclassical style during the Fascist era, was bombed by neofascist terrorists — 85 died. Today, despite the coffee-drinking herds pouring through it, the station retains a bleak and melancholy atmosphere. Luca Guadagnino captured something of this in his remake of Suspiria. Set in the German Autumn of 1977 (the release date of the original), the poisonous and paranoid atmosphere of Cold War Berlin, when Leftists turned to violence in the face of failed denazification and a conservative establishment, bubbled in the background. To its cold occult decadence, the film added stylized and unforgettable body horror. The whole built to an over-the-top conclusion, which was perfect both as a nod to the campiness of the original (and the giallo genre) and because Guadagnino’s deft melding of physical and emotional horror was a slow-burn that demanded combustion. It was a wyrd companion piece to surreal works grappling and playing with similar legacies, from Bruce LaBruce’s The Raspberry Reich (a.k.a. The Revolution Is My Boyfriend) to Syberberg’s Hitler: A Film From Germany. The personal was also political: the original was a masterpiece of style and ambiance marred by subtle misogyny, but in Guadagnino’s vision, this became an exploration of the fraught heat and darkness of dynamics between women in their exercise of power and community. Dakota Johnson lacked fire in the belly, as did Thom Yorke’s anaemic soundtrack, but a subplot some thought needless served up the film’s most appalling moment: a sickening portrayal of the pain of lost love regained, then once more ripped away with casual malice. This was more than a memorial suspiria; it was a wholly worthy rebirth of the Mater Suspiriorum. –Rowan Savage --- 19 Lazzaro Felice Dir. Alice Rohrwacher [Netflix] Alice Rohrwacher’s third feature, the Cannes-celebrated Lazzaro Felice (Happy as Lazzaro), was built on the many tensions it engendered &mdash namely, between a humanistic premise and the layers of dejection it was buried underneath, the timeless aspirations of a fable and a cynically bitter view of modernity, and the rustic realism of its form and the story’s fantastic detours. The film followed the threadline that, like the wolf, men will exploit men in all spaces, times, levels, and situations: A Marquise keeps a group of peasants working for her in near slavery; they in turn abuse and overwork the titular Lazzaro, a young peasant whose innocence and goodness paint him into the archetype of the “holy fool.” He roams through the story in a perplexity recalling the Christ-like dispossessed of classic Italian cinema. His mission on this earth, it would seem, is to prove that even the lowest of the low, the wicked and the perverse, are capable of gestures of kindness. How enduring, truthful, and integral these were to their characters, to the essence of their humanity, was something Lazzaro must discover at his own expense, paying ever higher costs in this beguiling yet disturbingly recognizable modern parable. –jrodriguez6 --- 18 Night Is Short, Walk On Girl Dir. Masaaki Yuasa [Toho] You wake up after a long night out. You aren’t hungover at all — it’s a miracle, truly a miracle. What do you remember from last night? Not names, certainly. Maybe not even places. It’s all like a strange fairytale, one of glowing neon and drinks that tasted better because you didn’t pay for them, of hilarious characters and absurd triumphs. Did that bouncer really let you in, even though you were $9 short of cover? You feel fantastic. This feeling was alive in Night Is Short, Walk On Girl: an insensible, overwhelmingly jubilant, and optimistic perspective on “a night on the town.” Pulling trade tactics from films like Amélie, El Futuro, and A Town Called Panic, the movie was full of humor, bliss, and no pulled punches (friendship punches or not) when it came to devilish winks. With not a single frame lacking in humor or joy, the film left us feeling like hangovers are something we’ve never experienced, like each night is full of mystery and romance, like our next big moment is waiting just around the corner. Perhaps we’ll make this a big weekend — go out on Friday and Saturday? — who knows… –Lijah Fosl --- 17 If Beale Street Could Talk Dir. Barry Jenkins [Annapurna] Barry Jenkins’s adaptation of James Baldwin’s 1974 novel was perhaps the most aesthetically accomplished and jaw-droppingly beautiful American film in years. It’s difficult to avoid hyperbole or rampant name-checking when confronted with an opening crane shot and a sumptuous autumnal wardrobe straight out of Douglas Sirk, or with a bracingly musical, time-shifting sense of montage that conjured numerous titans of contemporary Asian cinema, or with a swelling score by Nicholas Britell that exquisitely captured the film’s oscillating currents of unabashed romanticism and great melancholy. Despite the film’s sweeping, sexy, earnest depiction of the bond between pregnant teenage shopgirl Tish (KiKi Layne) and Fonny (Stephan James), a sculptor in jail accused of rape, Jenkins’s adaptation was clear-eyed and anguished about how they have to navigate lives of subjugation, a theme brought to the fore in alternately haunted and agonized performances by Brian Tyree Henry and Regina King. As such, Jenkins remade Baldwin in his image, trying with all his might to conquer fury with love. –Christopher Gray --- 16 Burning Dir. Lee Chang-dong [CGV] Deep under the delicate melodrama of a love triangle, the noir-ish mystery of a disappearing woman, and the moody male rivalry that plays out in its final act, Burning was charged with the same currents that power our defining social divisions: rural against urban, men against women, working class against dubious wealth, connected against isolated. Director Lee Chang-dong’s comeback thriller was a Trojan horse stocked heavy with political anguish, a dense, angular ballet of themes erupting just out of sight under a sensitive character drama that forced three young people of clashing identity and privilege into a pressured environment of overlapping interests and dark secrets. What stood out about Burning was how it probed not these ideological struggles themselves, but the existential uncertainty they inspire, as well as the insidious psychological toll they take on the individual. In all its discomfort and beauty — aided by subtle performances and distinctive cinematography — Burning served as both a careful portrait of a quietly revolutionizing South Korea and an uneasy study of the antagonisms and paranoia gradually tyrannizing the youth of today’s globally tainted age. –Colin Fitzgerald --- 15 Madeline’s Madeline Dir. Josephine Decker [Oscilloscope] From the very start, Madeline, and by extension the audience, was told that performance is not identity, that the emotions an actor renders are borrowed from someone else. This warning was not heeded. We met the eponymous 16-year-old (Helena Howard) as she shuffled through roles: a cat, an actress, a daughter, a sea turtle, an assailant, a pig on the run, a prisoner, a confused young woman of mixed race. Some of these identities played out on the stage of her experimental performance troupe, managed by maternal — and directorial — surrogate Evangeline (Molly Parker), though they inevitably bled through to her “real” life and back onto the stage, forming a tight, indiscernible tangle as this feedback loop began to dominate the production. Driven by the tension between the neurotic, controlling impulses of her mother Regina (Miranda July) and the haphazard psychic excavation spearheaded by Evangeline, the film, cut to the rhythms of a psychological thriller and as improvised as the troupe’s performances, unreeled with disorienting, balletic, colorful, and oftentimes invasive cinematography. Madeline’s Madeline was a complex film of blurred and appropriated identities, one concerned, reflexively (as it is in some sense a retelling of how Decker and Howard came to collaborate and make this very film), with self-authorship, self-ownership, and the power dynamics inherent in representation. “I’m really interested in people who are out of control of their circumstances,” stated Evangeline at a dinner party. But what do we owe these lenders of emotion and what does it mean to tell a story that is not ours? As we move through psychic strata leaving our own fingerprints everywhere, inhabit or direct bodies that look and experience differently than our own, what are our responsibilities? Where is the ethic of storytelling? Of course, no film could satisfactorily answer such questions, but Madeline’s Madeline grappled with them in a dense, dizzying, hyper-expressive, sometimes frustrating, and self-castigating manner that spoke to the immense trust between actor and director. –Cynocephalus --- 14 Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse Dir. Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey & Rodney Rothman [Sony Pictures Releasing] In an arena that seems to be getting more overstuffed with each passing year, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse surprised us just by being the most fun superhero movie we’ve seen in ages. From the second it revved its engines, Into the Spider-Verse hit a breakneck speed as exhilarating as a web-slinging joyride through the city, its mesmerizing 2D/3D graphics illustrating each thought, sound effect, and surreal set piece with an eye-popping neon panache. Each character was sketched with just the right mix of sympathy and self-awareness, whether it was our immediately relatable hero Miles Morales, the cynical, sweatpant-clad Peter B. Parker, or the wounded, monstrously gargantuan Kingpin. Even down to the music, Into the Spider-Verse kept its pace relentlessly fresh, washing us in waves of Swae Lee and Juice WRLD as we journeyed across alternate Spider-Man histories and dimensions in search of a way to once again save the world from destruction. It all somehow added up to a movie as unexpected and experimental as it was unabashedly pop — a classic, trope-skidding superhero tale that you’ve got to see to believe. –Sam Goldner --- 13 BlacKkKlansman Dir. Spike Lee [Focus Features] In BlacKkKlansman, Ron Stallworth (John David Washington) was a man caught between two worlds. Too black to be taken seriously as a police officer, too loyal to his duties as a police officer to be taken seriously as a proponent of Black Power. Naturally, Stallworth did what anyone would do in this situation: become the first black detective in Colorado Springs, infiltrate his local Ku Klux Klan chapter by posing as a disgruntled white supremacist on the phone, enlist his Jewish colleague (Adam Driver) to pose as him at Klan meetings, catfish David Duke himself, and foil a deadly bomb plot. The KKK, as portrayed in this Spike Lee Joint, could be best described as a gang of bumbling idiots. Just literal morons who blow themselves up. If the events of the film weren’t based on a true story, they would seem almost too absurd to be true. As racism today threatens to tear the country apart from the inside, BlacKkKlansman did all it could to call out white supremacists and serve them a modicum of justice. But the film also recognized just how dangerous the ideas of these people can be and how imperative it is to keep fighting to bring them down. –Jeremy Klein --- 12 Annihilation Dir. Alex Garland [Paramount/Netflix] There is a common fundamental misconception that Nirvana is either a place, like Heaven, or a state or period, like Peace. In reality, Nirvana means something like “blowing out” or “extinguishing.” Attaining Nirvana, then, isn’t an attainment at all, because it isn’t a summit or a destination or really even a “thing.” It is not, however, synonymous with Annihilation, but just as Gravity housed symbols that could be appreciated as “Buddhist,” Annihilation beckoned us into life’s terrifying glimmer of impartial consequence so that we could assess our way out of it. In The Shimmer, karma accrued, leaving behind not moral threads, but matter in forms as disparate as flowering corpses and a bear made of screams. Locating Buddhist imagery in film is often a sign of clumsy analysis, but witnessing these women worn by this violence of culmination grapple with their own threads of being was like witnessing a hierophany, a horrifying refraction of sacred DNA in a profane plane. It’s enough of a reminder of why we even started making existential art. Awfulness irrupted through Annihilation in that old-school religious studies sense, because it refracted what many of us associate with being human: self-destruction. And whether or not we could explain what we saw when we faced ourselves in that lighthouse, we left changed in a way that only prayer or film could catalyze. –Jazz Scott --- 11 You Were Never Really Here Dir. Lynne Ramsay [Amazon] Adapting a book by Jonathan Ames, writer/director Lynne Ramsay upends the thriller/character study by making a brilliant film about violence without showing the actual violence onscreen. It was a choice born of necessity — the filmmaker didn’t feel comfortable shooting action sequences — but it was completely within the spirit of this bold and haunting look at a man (Joaquin Phoenix) whose sole gift of violence and pain followed him like a heavy shadow. By focusing more on the consequences of violence that weighed deeply on him as he navigated a path of righteousness, Ramsay depicted a compromised world, shattered long ago by a trauma that reverberated louder with every new transgression. The film was angry, mournful, and frightening, but it also pierced through the oppressive darkness without sugarcoating the ordeal. Propelled by Jonny Greenwood’s incredible score, You Were Never Really Here was a gorgeous movie that waded into bleak territory without feeling like tragedy porn, a beautiful tale — even amongst the grotesque — about the inherent need for salvation that drives us forward. –Neurotic Monkey [pagebreak] 10 Hereditary Dir. Ari Aster [A24] Hereditary, the first feature from writer-director Ari Aster was more than just the spiritual descendant of The Exorcist, Rosemary’s Baby, and Psycho. It was not just the latest addition to the A24 family of slow-building, well-crafted horror films. Hereditary was about the unavoidable legacies that our families leave us, and for this it bore an uncanny resemblance to the bleak family dramas of Bergman or Haneke. Annie (played by Toni Collette in a career performance) said and did unforgivable things to her son and husband (Alex Wolff and Gabriel Byrne), and we squirmed. First out of angst, then disgust, and finally fear. And after being emotionally worn down with 90 minutes of this, the film fully committed to its supernatural heritage and delivered some of the best frights of the year. We loved it because it was an assured first step from a new director and a further commitment to excellence from an exciting young distribution company. We loved it because if the first two-thirds were painful to watch, then the last third offered us the voyeuristic release of a horror film. But most of all, we loved it because it married the visceral and the cerebral, giving birth to an unholy experience that stuck with us, like a tick. –Jeff Miller --- 09 The Ballad of Buster Scruggs Dir. Ethan Coen & Joel Coen [Annapurna] The last two decades have had their share, but 2018 was a proper trifecta of spirited, inventive Westerns. Audiard’s Sister’s Brothers was the bitter pill rendered unexpectedly sweeter; Damsel was a triumphant anti-romance (a nice thematic companion piece to 2015’s Slow West); and this anthology gave us a perfectly-blended fun, dark, and heartbreaking (namely the beautiful, merciless “Meal Ticket” segment) genre classic. The tone shifted wildly, well heralded by the eponymous opening tale (cartoonishly musical and silly, but cleverly undermined with graphic violence and grim meta-commentary). We had our requisite rich characterization native to a Coen Bros. film, with strong turns from Zoe Kazan, Stephen Root (natch), Harry Melling, Grainger (“DOG HOLES!”) Hines, and Chelcie Ross, for a start (Brendan Gleeson almost does “The Unfortunate Rake” as well as Ian McShane, but not quite). But there was also a curious, world-weary current fusing the episodes, one of exhausted sadness and a dread-dodging sort of hindsight. Life and its lore as a turgid tangle we’re a little too anxious to leave behind. A long goodbye to the “the meanness in the used to be.” –Willcoma --- 08 The Other Side of the Wind Dir. Orson Welles [Netflix] For all the excitement that it stirred, there was a fear among cinephiles that Orson Welles’s final film, completed 33 years after his death, wouldn’t live up to the story of its own production. These fears were unfounded. Suffused with moments of staggering brilliance, The Other Side of the Wind was a dense, multivalent, sometimes maddening film, one that we are lucky to have in any form. Much like Henri-George’s Clouzot’s Le Prisonniere (and its ill-fated precursor Inferno), The Other Side of the Wind evidenced a master filmmaker pushing himself in his late period to fully explore the visual representation of aberrant psychology through abstraction, deconstruction, and exaggeration. Both Clouzot and Welles amplified color to impressionistic, oversaturated heights, but whereas Clouzot’s experimentation was primarily formal, Welles upended narrative, creating a mise en abyme that was at once hagiography and self-assassination. Even what was clearly intended as pastiche (Hannaford’s film, also titled The Other Side of the Wind, was essentially the De Düva of Antonioni’s then-recent work) was utterly riveting, with balletic mise-en-scène that presaged and rivaled the best of Brian De Palma and Dario Argento. Most impressive, however, was the juxtaposition of the aggressively stylized film-within-the-film and the faux-vérité surrounding it — Hannaford’s film was all propulsive jump-cuts on action in a self-consciously auteurist mode, while the frame story comprised a messy collage of film stocks, focal lengths, and framing styles meant to suggest a polyphony of perspectives, or perhaps a fracturing of one’s psyche; editor Bob Murawski, working from Welles’s extensive notes and workprint, sutured it all into a kinetic rhythm both jarring and cohesive. This was absolutely essential viewing, an invigorating testament to the medium itself and a reminder of how much further it can still go. –Christopher Bruno --- 07 Shirkers Dir. Sandi Tan [Netflix] Shirkers was, among other things, a portrait of young creativity, folklore, fragile egos, self-discovery, DIY practices, and the cultural impact that a film can have on a country. The documentary told the story of Sandi Tan, a Singaporean teenager who set out to make the country’s first notable road movie in 1992. With the help of the “established” Western director Georges Cardona, a gang of dreamy-eyed college kids put their lives on hold for the film (also named Shrikers) in an attempt to write their country’s film history. However, in the final stages of the process, the footage disappeared with Cardona. What followed was a decades-long search for a rebellious movie that was supposed to blow Singapore wide open, its creator, and the man plagued with an imperialistic obsession for fame. It was a real-life story that could only happen in a movie. –Sam Tornow --- 06 Zama Dir. Lucrecia Martel [Strand Releasing] Look: Don Diego de Zama has come unstitched in time. He stands at the edge of earth and sea. Waves are undertow, proof that the future is unfolding somewhere. But time has ripped itself up and away from him. He turns from the waves and walks up the shore, still in frame. He pauses, walks back, trapped. He is not entitled to languish; his days are spent running ruined bureaucracies. He appeals to a succession of fat governors to be sent away or home or anywhere else. But he is here. He is casually cruel and pathetically hopeful that he will be rendered reverence. He will not be. Lucrecia Martel, the master, adapted the fevered anti-history of Antonio Di Benedetto’s prose into transformative euphoria. Her cinematography was for freeing bodies. Zama didn’t represent colonialism so much as it canceled the notion that belonging has a place anymore. By pinning her hero to the same useless hope as he decayed through the years, Martel created a world of unwavering indigenous bodies and mocking llamas. She papered over Zama like an unmoved fungus, reducing him back to ephemera to be fertilized. She said no to his hopes. The corregidor, the man who can’t be king, remained in frame. –Frank Falisi --- 05 The House That Jack Built Dir. Lars von Trier [IFC] Lars von Trier’s movies are not easy to watch, but past the gruesome violence, the fucked-up interpersonal relationships, and the heady themes, there’s always something there. Case in point: The House That Jack Built, a pitch-black film in which a serial killer explains five “incidents” from his life to a mysterious companion. And unsurprisingly, with its aggressive depictions of the macabre, the film enjoyed about as divisive a public response as Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring did at its riotous 1913 premiere. At Cannes, von Trier’s film reportedly moved over 100 people to walk out; yet, when it ended, it was met with thunderous applause and, indeed, a standing ovation from those who remained. Yes, it was shockingly violent, but it was also incredibly funny, and as its protagonists traveled through their Dantean hellscape, they offered profound and unique meditations on art, time, and history. In other words, the film’s brutality was in service of something, not just an end in itself. Today, people are obsessed with talking about how everyone should and should not behave, what people should and should not think and say. But they’re far less interested in examining the pathological reasons why we have those urges to say or do the “wrong” thing in the first place. Some would argue that this is the exact reason art exists, to examine ourselves at a deeper level. And this film asked big questions: Can destruction be art? Can murder? Is depicting something the same as validating it? If you don’t want to subject yourself to this movie, my opinion is that that’s exactly why you should watch it. If you get through it, you may learn something about yourself. I did. Lars von Trier isn’t afraid to channel and complicate humankind’s darkest, most sadistic desires, and that’s a good thing. In fact, isn’t that one of the essential roles of the artist? –Adam Rothbarth --- 04 Mandy Dir. Panos Cosmatos [RLJE] Words like psychedelic, hallucinogenic, revenge, rage, and insane got tossed around liberally by those attempting to summarize Mandy, the sophomore directorial effort by Panos Cosmatos (Beyond the Black Rainbow) starring Nicolas Cage in all his nouveau-shamanic glory and then some. But those were understatements. Mandy was a maximalist assault, a new death yarn whose title screen didn’t even arrive until an hour and 15 minutes in, when protagonist Red went hunting for Lysergicenobites and Jesus freaks. Like antagonist Jeremiah Sand, Cosmatos, Cage, cinematographer Benjamin Loeb, and late scorer Jóhann Jóhannsson all weaponized complete sensory overload to mesmerize and capture their audience. But unlike the Mandy character, we could hardly muster a laugh past “Erik Estrada from CHiPs” — we merely watched in wide-eyed, slack-jawed awe at the un(adulte)rated, undefinable phantasmagoria — the bathroom scene, the chainsaw scene. OK, so maybe that wasn’t what Roger Ebert had in mind when he rightly called Nicolas Cage one of the greatest actors of his generation, but then Ebert probably also wouldn’t have imagined the actor spending two nights in his underwear, tied to a fence in a Belgian forest to prep for a scene (apparently, yes, that happened). That’s the point, though. The hype was realer than real. Mandy was a masterpiece beyond what any of us could ever have imagined. –Samuel Diamond --- 03 Sorry to Bother You Dir. Boots Riley [Annapurna] Every day, they take a little bit more. For months, we’ve heard about how Amazon runs its warehouses like sweatshops. A couple weeks ago, it was Facebook selling your private messages. If WorryFree were to step forward tomorrow with a unique, 21st-century approach to living debt-free, would any of us be surprised? For all its detours into the surreal and the absurd, Sorry to Bother You never felt that far removed from the world we inhabit. The questions it asked and dilemmas it presented touched on everything from the changing face of corporate power in the age of tech startups, the challenges of navigating predominantly white spaces for non-whites, and the complicity of individuals in larger systems of oppression. Moving through the world today is an act of gliding from one outrage to the next, and Riley shares our outrage, but he coupled it here with a sense of playfulness and hope that rendered Sorry to Bother You one of the most important films of 2018. –Joe Hemmerling --- 02 The Favourite Dir. Yorgos Lanthimos [Fox Searchlight] Early on, Duchess Sarah admonished her lover, Queen Anne, that love has its limits — to which the queen replied, “Well it shouldn’t.” The story proceeded through a delicious series of political and bedroom maneuvers to prove the queen utterly and tragically wrong. Yorgos Lanthimos has always taken a perverse glee in sticking his movie knife into the banal, received wisdom of Western right-thinking. His trajectory from Dogtooth forward had increasingly tightened the thumbscrews on his audience; The Killing of a Sacred Deer was as muscle-bound and torturous to watch as it was incisive. But The Favourite turned that sensibility inside out, exploding with bright and colorful production design, brilliantly mining 18th-century courtly fashions for visual comedy. Rouged, powdered, and highly wiggy men ponced about like overbred poodles through all the absurd ornamentation, as a raging battle of wills played out among the film’s three towering female protagonists. The script was nastier than Dynasty and invented a patois of 18th-century Queen’s English and contemporary colloquialisms that somehow felt organic, but it had a Shakespearean heft at its core that played out in a perfectly odd and dissonant finale. –Water --- 01 First Reformed Dir. Paul Schrader [A24] 2018 was filled with days when hopping from one social media platform or news network to the next resembled a modern-day Stations of the Cross, with each subsequent click offering something that was somehow more terrifying, depressing, and enraging than the last. With the massive sprawl of readily available information, staying informed was more effortless than ever, yet it could easily, almost imperceptibly, transform from a desire to remain dutifully cognizant of our ever-shifting global landscape into a form of unabated and isolating self-flagellation. In Paul Schrader’s First Reformed, it was this hyper-awareness of earthly perils that plagued Michael (Philip Ettinger), a young environmental activist who believed it immoral for his pregnant wife Mary (Amanda Seyfried) to bring a child into this crumbling world, when he desperately met with Ethan Hawke’s already jaded, world-weary Reverend Toller for counsel. Despite telltale signs of suicidal thinking, Toller found their discussion not troubling, but “invigorating.” And when Michael blew off his head with a shotgun, the good reverend reacted not with sorrow or regret, but by taking on Michael’s all-too-real concerns of potential global disaster, bearing them like a cross upon his shoulders as he confronted the duplicitous evils that have infiltrated both his tiny, sparsely attended church and the superchurch that funds the relic he was keeping alive after 250 years. In this year’s cinema, there was perhaps no greater metaphor for the failure of American institutions to serve the public in any meaningful way (as many have slowly been reduced to thinly veiled money-laundering schemes for the wealthy) than the fact that Toller was stuck in a historically famous church with a broken organ, forced to hawk cheap souvenirs merely to keep the doors open. First Reformed deftly tackled this notion of the individual vs. implacable global forces, with an acute focus on the unsettling merging of ecclesiastical forces with those of an unbridled and amoral capitalist system. Schrader’s ascetic vision, informed most explicitly by Ingmar Bergman’s Winter Light, Robert Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest, and Yasujiro Ozu, offered the perfect aesthetic framework through which traditional systems of belief could collide haphazardly with the ruthlessly unfeeling, profit-hungry, hyper-modern business models that dominate both corporate and institutional cultures. Schrader’s camera was almost exclusively immobile, yet this stillness presented a deeply perceptive gaze and compositions as stark as the cold New England winter. It was a vision of the world as unwavering as that of Toller, who lived a life virtually sealed off from the real world, indulging himself with the sort of small rituals we all tend to hold onto to provide a semblance of order and meaning in an increasingly chaotic world. But for all of Toller’s pain (often self-inflicted), First Reformed offered a vision of grace and tenderness in the heavily symbolic Mary, who prevented the film from tipping into the complete and utter despair that Toller found himself in. In one of the year’s most remarkable sequences, Mary arrived at Toller’s office and together performed a ritual that she often did with her now-deceased husband. As she laid on top of the priest, making as much body-to-body contact as possible and matching his breathing patterns, the two achieved a temporary sense of communal transcendence, slowly rising from the floor as they began to travel over vast mountains and beautiful oceanside vistas. But Toller’s thoughts couldn’t remain fixed on utopic ideals for long before visions of city life and landfills of untold sizes took over. Such incessant and uneasy wavering between hope and despair, sensuality and violence, love and rage, faith in the future and the fatalistic acceptance of our environment’s demise filled First Reformed, which stands as the most eloquent yet soul-shattering microcosm of the world that we saw all year. –Derek Smith http://j.mp/2H7Z1Nd

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