#feeling: emotionally pulverized | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greatlydelirious · 1 year

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𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬

Bo Sinclair x F!Reader

set in the "Forever" universe

requested by: @bisexualforestfire and anon

wordcount: 3.5k words

summary: When a new group stumbles into town you catch the eye of one of the men with your tight outfit and sweet smile. Bo doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

warnings: smut, vulgarity, mentions of violence, possessive behavior, angst

Jealousy is such a pulverizing emotion, not polarizing. “Pulverizing” is the only right word to describe the way jealousy grinds away at a person’s sanity and crushes their heart for no other reason than the person’s own paranoia. That monster of a feeling oftentimes rears its ugly head and whispers nonsense into the ear of the man you love the most.

Bo Sinclair is more than meets the eye. Behind his rough exterior, charming smile, and devilish good looks, lays an emotionally broken boy trying to fight the demons of his past. He loses these battles, growing a temper and lashing out at whoever is near him.

There’s one exception, however. One person who doesn’t have to face the heat of these dizzying emotions. You. You with your sweet smile, soft voice, and unwavering kindness toward him and his brothers. At the same time, you don’t let Bo get away with everything. You challenge him at every turn from a place of love, not malice.

Although the way you are challenging him now is far from amusing.

Teeth grind harshly together to contain the onslaught of emotions threatening to spill. If looks could kill, the man putting his hands on you would be a bloody mess on the floor. Luckily for him, Bo still needed to keep up the ruse. Unluckily for Bo, that meant he was forced to just watch.

The rational part of his brain knew you were appeasing the man to set up the trap. Ever since you healed from the incident that almost took your life, you were taught the ins and outs of the Sinclair brother’s operation. Not without an overwhelming amount of grumbling from Bo of course. He acquiesced when you brought up the point that you’re too vulnerable by yourself and if you’re helping them, they’ll be right near you if something goes wrong.

How much Bo wished he didn’t let his siren make him give in so easily.

Your hands-on approach to keeping the victim’s suspicions at bay was slowly chipping away at Bo’s sanity. Maybe he could understand the slight flirting and using that pretty smile, but touching the man’s arm and chest? In his primal mind, that was more than unnecessary. Especially when the other man told you “Careful sugar,” and steadied you by your waist when you stumbled over your feet. The way you blushed and thanked him through thick lashes made Bo’s blood feel like boiling wax.

At that moment Bo reached the limit of his already minute patience. When you’re involved, Bo had never felt such unfettered rage. It’s like something takes over him when there is even a semblance of a chance something bad will happen to you. Or in this case, when someone makes the fatal choice to try and take what’s his.

He’s already killed for you twice; another casualty means nothing. Morality is a long-forgotten concept for Bo. Nothing will stand in the way of him having you. His actions made that apparent enough.

The group that rolled into town consisted of two women and two men, which may seem like an overpowering number, but the Sinclair brothers had their strategy practically foolproof by this point. Most of the time it entailed taking advantage of Bo’s charm. Something about his Louisiana drawl and crooked smile perfectly lured people into a false sense of security. Hell, even you aren’t immune to the effects of that innate charisma the man possesses.

However, you’ve come to learn that Bo is not the only one that seems to have a way of easily manipulating victims. A fact that you know displeasures your lover more than he’ll ever admit. Men and their fragile egos.

Although to be fair, the victim you’re talking to is getting a little too close for comfort. He’s blonde, tall, lean, and extremely clean-cut looking. In simple terms, he’s anything but your type. Not that you gave him any inkling of that.

While Bo is chatting with everyone else you sidled up next to the man, “What’s your name?”

A smile immediately curves the man’s lips as he looks at you, “Brett. And you?” When you tell him your name, he moves closer.

“Where were you guys heading?”

“We were on our way to see a football game, but we got lost and our tires popped. If it’s not clear enough we’re from out of state.”

Playfully you touch his bicep, “You sure you’re not a football player yourself? Could have fooled me.” The fake compliment makes you cringe on the inside. In his dreams. You have to suppress a shiver of disgust when Brett settles one of his arms around your waist while appraising you up and down. Men like him are truly so predictable.

In your peripheral, you can see Bo looking at you. You may not be able to see the extent of his wrath, but you can feel it. Goosebumps prickle your skin as warmth washes over you. Your senses are already in hyperdrive due to the nature of what you are partaking in and Bo is not helping your nerves in the slightest.

It’s safe to say you’re starting to deeply regret your choice of attire. The denim miniskirt you’re wearing is paired with a white tank top and strappy sandals. Little is left to the imagination and although Bo couldn’t get enough of your outfit earlier today, the darkening of his eyes tells you he is none too pleased with it now.

“What is a pretty thing like you doing out here in the middle of nowhere anyway?” When his fingers dig into the fabric of your top you can hear a sharp intake of breath a few feet away.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The small smile you give him reads as flirtation, but only contempt lies behind it.

Brett chuckles and just as he leans down to whisper something in your ear, a thick voice grabs both of your attention.

“Is my girl causin’ you any trouble there?” At the phrasing of “my girl” Brett lets go of you like you suddenly burst into flames. It doesn’t help that Bo was giving the younger man a death stare to end all death stares.

“N-no, sir.”

Brett inches away from you and you have to suppress a grimace. Bo interrupted you’re flirting far sooner than he usually does. Although, when you consider that day at the diner, he’s rather consistent with his fast and abrupt interruptions.

A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes spreads across Bo’s face. “Good. She might be a looker, but she sure is a troublemaker.” He then crooks a finger at you, “Come over here darlin’.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks as the strangers watch you walk in front of your boyfriend. You feel like a child who is about to be scolded by their teacher for talking when they weren’t supposed to.

“Why don’t you take the ladies down to the house while I help these folks get some new tires.”

Knowing what’s about to happen next, you’re quick to nod your head, “Sure.” You only make it a few steps away when you hear Bo clear his throat. Of course, you weren’t going to be let off that easy.

“No kiss goodbye?”

You mentally curse out Bo in your head. Now he was just trying to embarrass you. When you walk back into arms reach, Bo pulls you to him. Large hands squeeze your ass as he holds the front of your body flush against his. Something hard pushes into your stomach as Bo dips his head down to pull you into a rough kiss.

His teeth nip at your lips while his tongue takes claim over yours; carnal and borderline hostile. Telltale signs that the sweet Bo you’ve gotten used to has been replaced by his true nature; a beast willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants.

Bo tastes of tobacco and beer; an addictive combination that, despite having an audience, you can’t help but lean into. Aftershave and musk that’s equal parts manly and tantalizing fill your senses. Bo is possessive and demanding with a hint of danger, yet you can never seem to get enough.

You gasp for air when he finally pulls back. Obsidian eyes flicker with satisfaction as they drink in your face before lingering on your swollen mouth.

Bo’s lips move to ghost over the shell of your ear, “Don’t go gettin’ lost now.”

Then as if nothing happened, he steps back. You jolt when he slaps your ass as you turn to take the female victims to the house. When you whip your head around to glare at him, you’re met with that damn cocky smirk. That one look tells you all you need to know.

This is far from over.

By the time the bodies make it to the basement, the day has given way to night. You’re sweaty and exhausted as you sit on the shabby couch in the living room. You try your best to wipe off the blood and grime, but you could only do so much. What you needed was a shower, although that wouldn’t wash away the endless waves of guilt still nipping away at your heart.

You don’t like participating in such an evil act, but Ambrose is your home. You’ve never even lived a single day of your life without one of the Sinclair brothers. One of them in particular has complete control over your fragile heart.

That’s not to say that your feelings are a one-way street. Bo loves you so much that it borders on obsession. Years of falling for each other while never being together will do that to a person. His fatal flaw, however, is that he oftentimes does what he thinks is best for you, not what is truly best for you.

You and Bo are extremely passionate about each other, which more often than not leads to very heated arguments.

The couch dips as a certain foul-mouthed twin sits next to you, your thighs pressing together. You hear the clink of his ring against the beer bottle in his hand as he takes a long drag. When Bo brings the bottle down, he finally lets himself look you over.

You’re still in the same outfit as before, but now it’s marred by crimson and dirt smudges. The man to your right was in a similar state, except the cap that was practically fused to his head was long gone.

Bo’s eyes eventually land on the bloody rag in your hand and you answer his question before he can even ask it, “Not mine.” You don’t need to elaborate further. He hums in response and the room fills with silence once again. Normally you both welcomed the quiet, but the tension radiating off both of you is palpable.

Never the one to let things go, Bo opens his mouth, “You liked that pretty boy, huh?”

“There’s nothing to like about a corpse.” You sarcastically answer back, the ridiculousness of this situation not lost on you in the slightest. Brett was a dead man regardless, but that little show he put on was overboard. So much so that it made anger boil in you as well.

Bo shifts to squeeze your thigh, “Darlin’, don’t play fuckin’ games with me. You were practically all over the bastard.”

You push his hand off you and mumble, “You’re one to talk.”

“What did you say?” At your silence, Bo scoffs. “This is why it’s better for you to stay in the fuckin’ house! You just don’t get it.”

The nerve of this man is endless.

You twist your body so you can fix him with a stern look of your own, “Let me get this straight. You can do whatever flirting that’s necessary, but I can’t? You really are a hypocrite.”

A sound akin to a growl leaves Bo as his tone deepens, “Stop giving me lip. It ain’t the same thing and you damn well know it.”

“Oh right. I forgot that Bo Sinclair gets to do whatever he wants. Just like back in the day. Maybe if you schmoozed one of them enough, they’ll stay and give you less trouble than me.”

“What are you on woman?” To his credit, Bo’s face is plastered with bewilderment but your own torrent of emotions made you blinded to that.

Fed up, you jump up from the couch and jab your finger at the object of your desire and subsequent anguish. “No Bo. Trust me, I understand. Must be boring to fuck the same bitch all these years. Who wouldn’t want something new and exciting?” Your words come out harsh and vulgar. It’s not normal for you to speak like this but the insecurity filling your heart is making you not think straight.

“When we were young you took your sweet time even kissing me, although you kicked me out right after. Maybe if I dressed like this and put out like the other girls in town back then you would have desired me enough to make me yours sooner.”

Glass hits the ground as Bo pushes into you, almost knocking you over. To your shock, calloused fingers wrap around your throat. Not hard enough to crush your airway, but enough to hear the threat loud and clear.

“Shut your damn mouth. For a smart girl, you say the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.” When you try to argue back, the grip on your throat only lets incoherent noises come out. A dark chuckle leaves Bo, “See, I’ve been far too nice to you darlin’. You need to remember who the fuck you belong to.”

It’s almost shameful how instead of his words further fueling the flames of your anger, they serve to only fuel your desire.

Bo’s hand moves to clamp down on the back of your neck and he spins you around. In an instant your bent over the arm of the couch, the weight at your neck keeping you pinned in place. Sometimes you forget how easily Bo can overpower you, and the sudden reminder causes something dark to stir deep inside you.

Metal clinks as the telltale sound of his belt being undone and his zipper being pulled down reaches your ears. Abruptly, your miniskirt is flipped up right before something tears. Air hitting your heated sex helps you deduce what exactly had just been torn. This is far from the first time it’s happened.

Bo’s free hand wastes no time cupping your pussy. When you cry out at the contact, it’s muffled by the cushion pressing against your face. Bo curses when he feels how soaked you are for him already.

Without hesitation, his fingers find their way to your clit. Bo is far from gentle as he rubs the sensitive nub in fast circles. You try to buck, but his hold on you is too strong for you to get any relief from the friction.

Right when pleasure starts to build from his rough strokes, Bo pulls away. He simply chuckles at the pretty little whine of disappointment that leaves you.

“Like when I treat you like my slut, huh?” Bo shifts so you can feel the wide tip of his cock meet the entrance of your pussy. Once again, the lewd noises you make get muffled. Bo’s hand moves to wrap in your hair so he can pull your head up.

“Can’t hear you, sweetheart.”

“Yes, oh god, please…”

“Don’t plead to him, I’m your God now.”

Words fail you as Bo thrusts into you so deep your vision falters. It is near painful as Bo doesn’t let you adjust to his thick cock before pounding into you. All the pent-up jealousy that you caused Bo starts to break through. Nails bite into the skin at your hip as he holds you right where he wants you. Groaning loudly your lover is unrelenting. Every thrust of his hips is harder than the last.

Fabric bunches around your waist as Bo curves over your back to drive into you deeper. “You were made for me darlin’.” Curses rain from Bo’s mouth when your inner walls quiver around him. “You’re such a dirty fuckin’ slut for me.”

This is all so dirty, yet so right. Bo’s tone is almost reverent. He’s not mocking you but admiring how much of yourself you freely give to him, never asking for anything in return.

The loud sound of Bo’s belt clanking while he fucks into you like a madman does little to cover the obscene noises in the room. Flesh hitting wet flesh echoes and makes your face heat. All you can taste, smell, hear, and feel is Bo. The act of being practically consumed by him was clawing at an animalistic part of your brain. Obviously, words aren’t enough to comfort either of your unsubstantiated jealousy, so Bo will make you feel how much you affect him.

Craving release, you try to slither your hand in between your thighs. Before you can reach your throbbing clit a hard smack comes down on your ass. All you can manage is a pathetic whimper at the denial.

“I’m the only one that’s allowed to touch you, got it?” When you merely moan, he smacks your ass even harder, “Say it!”

Panting you barely manage to squeeze the words out, “I’m yours, Bo! The only one I want to touch me is you.”

“See? It ain’t so hard now is it.”

Bo snakes his arm between you and the couch to descend on your clit. His fingers are rough as they draw out fast circles against the sensitive bud, eliciting moan after moan from your throat. Bo knows your body like it’s an instrument he’s perfected.

Each thrust is more erratic than the last. Pressure builds and builds inside you until you can’t hold it back any longer. A particularly sharp thrust slams into you just right and makes your velvety walls tighten like a vice around Bo. You scream out his name as you let your body succumb to your orgasm.

The punishing speed of each thrust doesn’t slow down in the slightest. Tears slide down your cheeks at the sheer intensity of it all. Your strong emotions aren’t from you being upset but desperate. Bo’s manhandling of you is driving you insane. His cock slams into you just right and his equal need made you crave more.

“Come inside me, baby. Please. I need it.” Your voice trembles as you plead, but the noise that comes out of Bo at your words is practically inhuman.

Bo rests his head on your neck as he rides through your ecstasy. “You’re so goddamn perfect sweetheart.” His voice is laced with desperation as his hips begin to slightly stutter. Nothing made Bo feel closer to you than being in your pussy. It doesn’t just stem from lust, but his craving for physical touch.

While growing up you both never got to feel a loving touch, so he wanted to show his love for you by making you feel good. Actions speak louder than words, and how can you stay mad when he held your body like you’re a slice of heaven?

A loud groan that gives you goosebumps wisps against your ear. You whimper when searing heat floods your pussy as Bo spills inside of you. Grunting, he pets the damp strands of hair out of your face.

“Good girl… take it all.”

You stay with his cock deep in your pussy until your legs begin to shake. Any ounce of energy you had was completely drained, making you feel no control over your limbs. Ever the perceptive one, Bo rubs your waist, “I’ve got you darlin’.”

Bo hauls your limp body from the arm of the couch and lays down on it with you on top of him. It feels like you’re a boat coasting on rough waves as each heave of his chest rocks you. An apt description when that’s exactly how your emotions are feeling as well.

After a few moments, you find your voice, “You know that flirting meant nothing to me, right?” The fingers at your waist tighten.

“I know.”

“Then why did you get all… possessive like that?”

Bo audibly sighs, “No man likes another man thinkin’ they can touch what’s his.” You crane your head up so you can look at Bo’s face. When you fix him with a raised brow, he gives you a look of his own and shrugs his shoulders.

“Besides…” A devious smile grows on Bo’s face, “I also know I’ve got you hooked darlin’.” Just as you’re about to question him further, you let out a surprised moan when he slips his hard cock back into you.

“Now, let good ol’ Bo show you how long he can fuck that pretty pussy of yours without gettin’ bored.”

It’s safe to say you have a very long night ahead of you.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #house of wax x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #bo sinclair x you #delirious masterlist #forever bo's masterlist

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rottenprincessshura100 · 12 days

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Blue Exorcist 150 Notes

We start off this chapter with Rin and Yukio's team move through "Satan Mountain" and like a macabre theme park, they find themselves in Satan's head. The fact that it's a version of Asylum isn't an accident. It's the evil place that made Satan an unfeeling, human-hating creature. Rin already knows the truth, but Yukio doesn't. It will be interesting to see if Yukio learns to have some empathy for Satan.

Speaking of "not feeling." Rin is clearly troubled once he finds out about Osceola's death. But he's hiding his emotions from Yukio. This isn't good at all. Yukio realizes it too, hiding emotions is a sure way to open one up to demonic possession. Even though Rin has conquered demon Rin, bottled up emotions could reopen that side of him. It's all Yukio's fault. Every time Rin reaches out, Yukio pushes him away. Rin has seen so much, maybe he's emotionally shutting down.

The next thing we realize is that they are in a maze, with an arrow that points to nowhere. Maybe it's another metaphor for something? It's not a directional arrow, but a giant weapon.

Maybe they need to use that weapon to battle a threat, or use it to open a passage? We'll find out in June.

Shiemi also notices a person creeping about in the maze. The person has light-coloured hair, which means he's from the Azazel, Lucifer or Uzai family. Is it a ghost in Satan's mind, manifesting itself? Is it a young Shiro or Satan? We're not sure.

We then head over to Lucy's group. They've been followed by a helicopter. Which is strange, because I thought Satan's Magic Mountain wouldn't allow something like that. Didn't they mention in earlier chapters that the mountain would shoot flying things down? Weird.

We get a conversation between Lui and Lucy. Not only are they family, but they seem to share a similar fate. It seems that members of the family inherited special powers like the Renzo family with Yamantanka. But Lucy has lived so long, she hasn't passed those powers down, and Lui seems to be next in line. He doesn't like that she's so powerful, holding the family ability, but at the same time he has a soft spot for her. You can tell.

We find out that the helicopter has Ibis inside. She lands and unleashes her dreaded, flaming firetits. (Items that will be censored in any future anime project with some sort of flaming fire bra.)

Iblis attacks the exorcist group, and kills many of them. Lucy is pulverized and scorched by Iblis. But like Osceola, I think we'll see one final transformation before she dies. Lui calls her a "monster" earlier in the chapter, and I think she'll release that monster from her broken body. I'm hedging my bets, that the powerful demon temptaint will go into Lui.

Lucy calls him Seiryu Liu...Seiryu means dragon, and as we know her familiar was a pretty impressive dragon....will he be able to take on the beast next?

#blue exorcist #ao no exorcist #yukio okumura #rin okumura #aoex

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jellys-compendium · 9 days

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Comforting Monster Stories for the Weary Heart

Part 2 - The Werewolf

Pairing: Werewolf x/& GN!Reader Cw: hurt/comfort, depictions of stress/burnout, gentle werewolf cuddles Word Count:~1.7K A/n: I went into a little more detail this time with shaping this werewolf character and I really like how he came out. He's such a sweet wolfie. <3

As you cross the threshold to your apartment, the exhaustion that you had fought so hard to hide finally seeps deep into the marrow of your bones. Your body sags, legs trembling slightly from exertion as you lean your weight against the nearest wall.

It had been a long and grueling day at work, one that was spent running from office to office, rushing to finalize last minute alterations, and having to answer to an outrageously demanding client while simultaneously dealing with a panicked boss who hardly gave you a second to breathe, let alone take a lunch break.

To top it all off, your mother had decided that today was the perfect day to blow up your phone with urgent “requests” for your help in organizing an upcoming family event.

Amidst those heated meetings and sprints between cubicles, you had tried to convey to your mother in the kindest but firmest way possible that you were very tied up and couldn’t agree to take anything else on.

That’s when the guilt trip started. How could you brush her off like this, after everything she’s done for you? Paying for your college, helping you buy your car. Didn’t you realize how much she had sacrificed for you? The least you could do is help her plan this event.

And like a thin sheet of ice pulverized by the heavy footsteps of every single person who had decided to step on you that day, you cracked. By noon, you found yourself agreeing to every single one of your mother’s demands. It was only on your way home in the dark of night that it truly dawned on you how blatantly she had emotionally manipulated you.

But then again…she had always manipulated you like this hadn’t she?

“I’m home.”

The sigh that leaves the deepest recesses of your lungs is wispy and weary, utterly incapable of masking your paper thin state. You know that your perceptive roommate will pick up on it right away, so you do your best to adjust your expression, donning a mask of simple tiredness instead of one that reveals just how close to the edge you really are.

“Fen?” You call, shutting the apartment door behind you. “Did you hear me? I’m home.”

You are so exhausted and so out of touch with your surroundings that it takes you a moment to realize that your apartment is completely dark and silent. Of course Fen isn’t responding, he isn’t home.

Cold and heavy fingers squeeze around your chest and snuff out the last little flicker of hope inside you. After a day like today, you had longed to spend some time with your roommate.

Fen has a talent for calming you even after the toughest of days. The two of you don’t always necessarily talk, but you’ve found that even just sitting quietly beside him on the couch and listening to the sound of his deep rolling breaths is a comfort. He’s the person you feel safest around most in the whole world, and you feel utterly gutted that he’s not here right now.

Fighting back tears, you force your body into autopilot. Shrug off coat, hang coat, kick off pinchy shoes, tell yourself for the millionth time to replace the worn WELCOME mat, hang apartment keys on hook, walk down hallway, grab dinner…

But you ignore the gurgling of your stomach that accompanies your footsteps and bypass the kitchen altogether. You’re too tired to even think about food. Frankly, all you want to do is just lie down and pass out. You want to forget about today. You want to tell all those awful people in your life where they can stick it. But like always, things are more complicated than that.

If you get yourself fired, who’s going to help pay the rent? If you tell your mother to fuck off, how will that impact your younger siblings that are still under her care?

Actions after all have consequences, and like many you’re just an insignificant little fly caught in the neverending spider’s web of cause and effect.

The daunting feeling of helplessness weighs you down and your vision blurs as you enter your bedroom. You ignore the warm drops that run down your burning cheeks as you slip out of your clothing.

You wish Fen was here.

Fen is…one of a kind. He may be a lone wolf by nature but he’s also your rock, your best friend and your partner in crime. When you first met in childhood, the two of you had been stuck to one another like glue. Back then, Fen was a lonely kid who needed a friend, whereas you were the popular kid surrounded by people pretending to be your friends. The day you’d caught Fen alone and crying behind the school was the day the two of you became inseparable.

Except when the moon is full of course.

As the weight of your work clothing is fully removed from your frame, a sweet relief washes over you. It gives you just the right amount of energy you need to wriggle into your oversized t-shirt and snuggle on top of the fluffy duvet that covers your bed. Reaching down, you pull up the fuzzy throw and knitted blanket that normally decorate the foot of your mattress and completely engulf yourself in your makeshift burrow of blankets.

Then, you close your eyes and it all comes crashing down.

The first sob is silent. Then a second one comes, and then a third, forth, fifth…

Before you know it you’re openly weeping rivers onto the blankets. There’s no reason to hide anymore. No one is here to see you cry.

It’s a cathartically painful release, one that consumes your every thought and sense. The sobs ransack throughout your entire body and your head pounds in tandem with your rapid pulse as you hold on desperately to yourself. You’re so caught up in the release of your stress and misery that you don’t notice the faint scratching and whining at your window.

It’s only when you hear your squeaky window open that you realize that you’re no longer alone. A stranger has entered your bedroom.

Alarmed, you stop crying, but the involuntary trembling from the aftermath of your tears persist. You hold yourself tighter, biting your lip as you try to stifle the shaking and whimpering.

But then, a voice calls out to you. Rough and distorted.

“Hey, now. It’s okay, don’t cry.”

Fen.

Your body dips and the mattress groans in protest as a massive weight joins you on the bed. You lay still, relieved and dizzy from exhaustion as Fen scoops your blanket covered body close, pulling your flush against him.

Being under the covers you can’t see Fen, but you can tell from the gentle way that he’s maneuvering you, as well as how utterly huge he feels all around you, that he has fully transformed.

“Why are you here?”

God, the sound of your hoarse voice is awful. It’s too vulnerable. Too raw.

“It’s a full moon tonight. Shouldn’t you be out there, hunting with your pack?”

Fen’s rumbling sigh sends tremors down your spine. You can feel his soft snout press against you through the barrier of the blankets. He inhales deeply and pulls you closer.

“I’ve told you many times. You are my pack.”

A dry swallow constricts your throat. You hold yourself tighter as your fingers dig nervously into the flesh of your arms. He’s being sincere, you know that. But still, you can’t help but feel like you’re robbing him of something. Fen had finally found his kind after years of searching, and here you are taking him away from the precious little time he gets to spend with them.

“You should go. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Stillness is his response. Fen is completely motionless beside you. Even his breathing has stopped.

Instinctively, the image of a wolf silently stalking its prey in the wilderness flashes in your mind’s eye. But no sooner does that image come do you then witness the real thing. Fen gently grabs the blankets with his teeth and claws and then slowly pulls them off you, exposing you like a frightened little rabbit in its den.

Once free from the confines you had constructed, your gaze immediately finds Fen’s. His eyes are sharp–predatory—and as gold as a nourished field of wheat. But as Fen silently studies your moonlit face in the private darkness of your bedroom, his gaze gradually softens. Then, he leans down and nuzzles your cheek with his wet nose before giving the side of your face a big, fat, slobbery kiss.

“Ugh! Fen!” You snap, pushing his snout away. “That’s gross!”

Fen’s wolfish laugh sparks a joyous little thrill in your chest. One that’s sent right down to your toes.

“Not as gross as the thought of leaving you when you need me.”

Fen allows you to push him away, his powerful jaws in your hand as he pegs you with another serious look. You can feel his hot breath moistening and billowing against your palm as he speaks his next words carefully.

“Listen. You don’t gotta talk about it or anything, just let me be here for you, okay? It doesn’t matter what else is going on. I care about you, I always have.”

I care about you.

Those four simple words bring fresh tears to your eyes. Fen’s wolfish face softens as you hiccup another pathetic little sob.

Wanting to console you, the huge werewolf carefully nudges your palm from his face, giving him the freedom to lean down and rub his huge, fluffy head against yours. Your eyes close as you bask in the feeling. He’s so soft and warm.

Your hands reach up to caress his head, gently lingering over his big pointy ears. Fen’s content hum rumbles deep in his chest, helping to soothe your nerves and slow your heart beat down into a relaxed pace. At this moment he’s almost like…a big, cuddly therapy dog.

A tiny smile forms on your lips at the thought and Fen doesn’t miss it. His eyes light up and his big, bushy tail starts to wag happily.

“Go to sleep, okay?” Fen says softly. “You’ll feel better in the morning. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

You exhale a deep sigh and nod as Fen cuddles you closer, pampering you with the tenderest of hugs and little muzzle kisses.

“Thank you, Fen. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

You return his hug, clinging onto him for dear life.

“Likewise.” He whispers.

dividers by @/saradika

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molly-ghuleh · 9 months

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hi!!! Can I get “i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me” with Secondo please!!!! Thank you and love your work

Kiss Prompts: "I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me."

Secondo x reader

Hihi thank you for the love!! And thank you for requesting Secondo my beloved <33 I got a little carried away with this one oooops

SFW! Contains: Angst, pining, implied smut but no explicit descriptions, manwhore Secondo trope, emotionally constipated Secondo, confessions, fluff and a happy ending, reader is gender neutral but there is one use of 'piccolina'

Kiss prompts

You have a... thing, with Secondo. This thing doesn't have a name, or a label, but it lives in his bed and in the heavy air inside his chamber as he makes you cry his name over and over. It's a thing that you know he shares with other Siblings of Sin, sometimes multiple at once. The thing is not special to him.

But it is to you.

It wasn't supposed to be special at first. It was just an arrangement that the two of you had (literally) stumbled into one evening after the dinner hour. Secondo had been furious at something Nihil had said and stormed out of the refectory, and you were the lucky Sibling who he practically ran over in his haste to distance himself from the old man. He had been angry and in need of a distraction, and the way his large hands grabbed your arms to keep you from falling had been enough for you to agree to join him in his bed that very night.

Apparently Secondo had enjoyed what relief you gave him, because he invited you to his bed again within a week of that incident. It became somewhat of a routine. He had been very clear from the start--it's just a form of stress relief. It's merely because your bodies reacted to another in a way that felt exquisite for you both. It is not an emotional affair in the slightest. Secondo is not an emotional man. So, you will take the little crumbs he offers you in the form of a repeated, open invitation.

But oh, how can you not fall in love with him when his aftercare is even better than the sex? He takes aftercare more seriously than he does its 'before' activity. Secondo does not allow you (or anyone) to stay the night after an evening of passion; but that doesn't mean you leave him feeling dejected or used. He is very, very careful to make sure you know he cares for you in at least some capacity. Whatever you need until you feel like you can stand on your own two feet again, he gives you. Massage? Bath or shower? Water and a snack? He does it before you can even ask. And then he'll walk you to the door, open it for you, and bid you a good night before promptly crushing your heart in his hands.

It's not just in his bedroom that you meet him. You occasionally run into him at the coffee pot in the Ministry kitchens. The first time, you'd offered to make him a cup. He told you how he takes his coffee, and you struck up a little conversation as you waited for it to brew. From there you always seemed to find a subject on which to approach him later--whether it's a sermon he plans to give, or a new type of tea you want to try, or a new tidbit of Ministry gossip (yes, he admits that he loves drama, but you are the only one who knows and he asked you to keep it that way). And at the end of each little interaction, he asks you to meet him that night, and you consider turning him down to protect your own feelings.

You come, though. Every time he invites you, you come back and you let him pulverize your heart into smaller and smaller pieces. It's your fault, really--you should've ended things with him as soon as you started to feel. Because as stellar as his aftercare is, all you can think about is having to fall asleep alone. Having to pretend you don't love him when you run into him during the day, masking your heartache with banter. How you'll never have his heart but you will always have the little smirks he gives you when you make him laugh.

The very man who holds your heart doesn't even know he's breaking it.

All of these thoughts, which you've started having every time you meet with him, swirl around your head as you come down from a rather long bout of sex with Secondo. He seems agitated tonight. He hadn't bothered with his usual bells and whistles, instead just choosing to take you in a more primal way. You've spent enough time with him (inside the bedroom and out) to know that there's something on his mind.

You decide to test your luck because your heart aches particularly hard for him this evening. "Papa," you say softly, "are you alright? You seem... distracted."

He doesn't turn his head to meet your gaze, instead choosing to close his eyes completely. The two of you lay on your backs beside one another and you desperately want to take his hand. "It is nothing, dolce."

Your heart clenches but you don't push the issue further. You take a few more breaths and steel yourself against the inevitable pain of having to leave him again. The blanket slides off your naked body as you sit up, searching for your discarded clothes on his floor. You don't have the strength to endure his tender aftercare tonight.

Secondo notices your poorly-concealed haste to dress and opens his eyes. "What do you need?" He asks too kindly.

"I... I need for you to let me go," you mutter, pulling on a sock. I need for you to let me leave tonight and I need for you not to ask me back.

"Dolce," Secondo calls after you when you stand to find your shoes. You can hear the slight confusion in his voice, still gravelly from how he growled in your ear minutes before. "Stop, and tell me what is wrong."

You turn your back to him. You can't look him in the eye when you break your own heart, because you will cry and that will be the last thing he sees of you. "I need to go."

You hear the rustling of blankets as Secondo stands. "No."

"No?" "No," he repeats. "You will stay and tell me why you are in such a hurry to leave."

You huff out a humorless laugh. "Isn't that what you want?" You snap. It comes out harsher than you'd meant--but perhaps this will be easier if he's angry at you. Easier for him, or for you?

"I want to make sure you are alright."

"I'm not," you say, your voice hitching. "I'm not, Secondo. So I need to go."

A broad hand comes to rest on your turned shoulder, and the warmth and weight of it comforts you despite your agony. "Are you hurt?" he speaks lowly. His voice is close to your ear. "Did I do something you did not like? Let me take care of you, dolce."

Secondo gently urges you to turn and face him, and you let him, but you don't meet his eyes. Instead you stare at your feet so he doesn't see the tears welling in your eyes from your shame. He's going to make you admit it.

His other hand gently curls under your chin and tilts your head up towards him. "Piccolina," he says when he sees how glassy your eyes are. The softness of his voice is like a salve on your feelings, even though you know this is just his aftercare.

"I can't do this, Papa," you say, the words tumbling from your mouth without your intent. "I need you to stop inviting me to your bed. Because I will come and it will only hurt more when you turn me away."

"Dolce--"

"I know," you cut him off, sounding more angry than you are. "I know it was supposed to be just a means to an end, but... it isn't for me. Not anymore."

You lift your chin away from his hand and turn to leave, but he catches you. He draws you into him, your back to his front and his large arms encircling you so you can't move. You release a pathetic little sob that sounds more like a whimper. "Please," you breathe.

He leans his head down so his cheek rests against your temple and his mouth is at your ear. "Stay," he whispers in the softest tone you've ever heard form him. "Stay the night."

You freeze. Did you hear that right...? "Wh-what?"

Secondo simply holds you for a moment. Silence echoes between you louder than your own rapid heartbeat in your ears. Hope blooms in your chest. It's warm and comfortable and it tugs at your soul. It tells you that all those crumbs he gave you fell from something bigger. Sweeter.

"Dolce... I have not taken another lover in months. not since you," he mutters in your ear. "You were never just a means to an end. I am sorry that it took me this long to... to accept that."

You turn in his grip, tilting your head up to look at his face. He's always been known to keep a healthy rotation of partners. You hadn't assumed that would change just because you came along, but he's telling you that it did. That with you, he feels like he doesn't need anyone else. The warm, simmering hope in your chest explodes when you meet his eyes.

The tips of his ears are red and it's the only indication that he's blushing under his smudged Papal paint. "I... do not make flowery speeches, piccolina. I cannot say I will do everything right. I may know how to seduce you but I..."

Oh, your poor, emotionally frustrated Papa. You can see the little crease between his brows deepen, and you know that he's kicking himself. "...I do not know how to do this."

You smile at him, trying to mask how badly you want to shout with elation. "I... I think this is the part where you kiss me," you whisper. "And then when you've kissed me to both our liking, you take me back to bed and hold me."

Secondo follows your rules. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you. It's a gesture free of lust or urgency, but you can also tell just how nervous he really is. You flatten your palms on his still-bare chest and his heart pounds against his ribcage. It's real, and it beats for you, just as yours beats for him.

He gently lifts you back into his bed and pulls your body against his. You settle into him, completely content, because you know you won't have to spend a night alone again.

#secondo my beloved #he is a closet softy he just doesn't know how to show it #secondo x reader #the-did-i-ask #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii #secondo #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #papa emeritus x reader #prompt writing #kiss prompts

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ruporas · 1 year

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i've been wondering- what do you think of vash and ww's relationship to pain? do u have any thoughts on it??

cuz i was just thinking like. obviously they're both extremely resilient and don't care much if they get hurt in the process of achieving whatever, but like... as for the pain specifically, i have to wonder.

cuz i'm reading trimax for the first time and toward the end of the sand steamer mess kite basically asks if vash even feels pain. and i mean... he has to, since not that long ago he just hit the floor with a dramatic blood splatter lmao. but like.

is he just suppressing visible reactions? or does he just not feel pain unless it's above a certain level?

and i wanna know about ww too if you have thoughts, i just haven't gotten that far in trimax :')

forgive me if my wording is all over the place, i havent been very elegant in my words Lately, but i am always down to talk about specific shit involving vash and wolfwood,

if we're just talking physical pain, yeah, i think they feel pain normally!

For Vash, he is the master of repression throughout Trimax, so I think naturally, he keeps a strong face no matter the level of hurt, whether on the outside or inner. It's just in his nature to not allow others to worry about him by pulling through with a fake smile or in some cases, he feels like he deserves the pain inflicted on him so even if he's getting pulverized to shit or threatened against his life, he'd default to a silence as opposed to screaming in agony that might make people think he isn't feeling anything. It's probably also second nature for him to no longer yelp or cry at pain after the amount of years he's spent getting hurt, but i think this only applies if he isn't emotionally involved in a fight (which is rare, but it happens in ch. 38).

In terms of physical pain, he seems to feel it like how regular humans do. I've thrown together some examples where he goes owchie owchie owchie that aren't too spoilery:

The Emilio scene is kind of why I don't think he's just playing up the theatrics of feeling pain, though I do think he would on some occasion, especially since he roleplays with children all the time. Verbally saying "ow ow ow" could potentially be an instinctive reaction too or maybe a source of comfort. But yeah!! I think Vash has always been able to feel pain and it's not like being a plant has lessen his ability to do so. Any resilience built is tacked on due to him being alive for 100 years and being a guy with a clear painted bullseye on his entire figure that ends up getting him shot and scarred.

In the end, the pain that gets to Vash the most will always be on an emotional level rather than physical, but Vash is such a genuine person and so present when it comes to other people that even if it's a pain he can take, it'll still hurt him terribly in more ways than one.

For Wolfwood; I think in general, those under the Eye of Michael have a strong resilience to dealing with pain due to the regen potions and the amount of training forced on them. I don't think we ever get the full description of what exactly those in EoM endured throughout their younger years, but we saw WW get shot at an early age in chapter 12 and we can assume it happened more than once. Over and over again until he won't even flinch against it just like how killing without hesitation was attempted to be drilled into him. I don't really know how it works scientifically… but I fully believe that he's mostly numbed to the physical sensation of it and it's the psychological part that gets to him more. Wolfwood himself is a naturally skilled fighter too, not that that really has anything to do with his dealing with pain, but I think his focus and attention on a battle and his stubbornness to win kicks an adrenaline that allows him to ignore the pain.

Though, his body also gets sore and tired just like any regular human does and there's this instance where he goes owie too:

(While NOT as much as Tristamp WW does where he's cracking a cold one every goddamn minute, I do think Trimax WW has gotten used to taking regen pots and thus, can afford to be careless and not give a damn.)

So, physically, technically in canon, they don't really have anything that specially makes either of them unable to feel pain, but just as you said, they're incredibly resilient. And ultimately, the both of them are affected emotionally/psychologically that hurts them more than the physical aspect of it, considering how physical pain is almost a daily chore for them to deal with (Vash being hunted for sport for majority of his life + Wolfwood being involved in experiments/killings for majority of his life.)

I think Trigun in general, while showing physical pain being a strong factor of hurt for regular people like us constantly seeing civiilians get beat up or shot, it tends to boil down to the multiple varieties of pain when it comes to those who deal with physical pain often (Gung Hos, Vash, EoM members).

I didn't know where to put these comments but here are extra thoughts:

They're both evidently really good at hiding their pains or any mark of vulnerability. They both could have a hole in their chest and go days without anyone else noticing so long it isn't killing them.

They're both pretty reckless during battle, but I think for Vash, he already tries to avoid violence at all cost and thus, do in a roundabout way lessen his own chance of getting hit in hoping to not stir that violence against another. As a result, I think Wolfwood can be way more reckless and ends up getting hurt more unnecessarily as a result of it.

They both are capable of healing at quick rates so I'm sure that allows the pain to feel more temporary, less of a risk to sustain, and to further hone in not caring too much about getting shot. That only applies for themselves individually though because every time they see each other get hurt, they're always so so worried despite knowing the other will be fine.

i'm pretty sure i repeated myself like 800 times, but i hope this Answered the question SFGMSDKGSMDKH i also tried to be vague enough in my wordings and focus only on the beginning-ish of trimax so to not spoil! i hope u enjoy ur reading of it!!

#asks #thank you for sending this and for your curiosity on my silly thoughts #honestly i dont think this is very coherent but i hope it is at least comprehensible. if im like. missing or wrong about anything #feel free to lmk.....#i do think its so crazy though that vw both understand the other is not like a regular person by any standard #and like sure vash knows sees and breathes in the fact that wolfwood /is/ human but he also can't see ww as just Another human #bc that human is entrusted with his back and does a good ass job protecting it. ww is like #super abnormal to him but in a positive human way--#but where im going is that both of them know that about each other but still are so concerned all up with each other #Never once faltering in worrying about each other. granted theyre both so haunted by the amount of people theyv seen die and are thoroughly #afraid of that same thing happening to each other regardless of each other's monstrous capabilities of surviving but theyre just so #protective in some way as a result.#anyway i am sleepyg....

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rainforest-daisies · 1 year

Text

Waltzing in the bathroom

Character: Enola Holmes x fem!reader

Synopsis: you volunteer to teach Enola how to dance, which leads to a very intimate moment between you both.

TW: time period homophobia(so a Iittle angst??), fluff

A/n: HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONEEEEE<33

Your heels clicked on the floor, and her dress swirled around as the girl before you spun herself. She was clueless on how to dance, and you had volunteered to teach her.

It was an unexpected setting, a bathroom of all places. But nonetheless, it felt intimate, being in such a comforting state with her. Her dress was captivating, with lace, silk, ribbon, she must’ve come from money. And her cheeks were painted with a rose tint, any darker and you would believe she was blushing at you.

But that couldn’t be true.

Many instances, you had been mouthed off for the way you existed. It made you believe there was no-one out there like you.

You had been called a disappointment by family, told you would be punished by the lord, emotionally pulverized from the simple fact, you liked women too.

It was such a sin to see a woman the same way a man saw one, at least to everyone you knew.

This was your closest opportunity to having a fairytale ending. Maybe she could be the one, but your thoughts had shut that down almost immediately. Of course, she must be just like the others. You could only imagine what it would be like with someone else, spending eternity with her, making your own names for yourselves. never being accepted enough to truthfully spill that secret to another, kept you from doing so.

“Right. Well, I believe I know the basics.” She pulled away slightly, looking into your eyes. Her pupils seemed to be a bit dilated, the tint on her cheeks seemed to be darker.

Your hand still resting on her waist, and faces closer than before.

The glimmer she had in her eye was mesmerizing, she couldn’t seem to pull herself from your grasp, it was like you were both frozen in time. She liked being held like this, a way no man could hold a lady.

It was cliché, but you both could felt sparks.

You had read plenty of literature, always describing moments like these with a tingle in your midriff, a feeling of adrenaline course through your body, a weakening of the knees, but you had never truly felt it until being held In her arms. You would normally feel shame, a feeling of disappointment in yourself, but you leaned in.

She didn’t move away.

Now it truly felt like a piece of literature. The kinds you would find in the back of the library, with very many creases in the backing, and slight stains on the pages. The markings that showed it had been loved by so many people.

A loud knocking on the door pulled you both away, quickly moving from each other’s arms in the fear of someone barging in. The cold air had hit your clammy hands as you did so, making goosebumps appear on your forearm.

As you made your way to the door, you held up your fan, and motioned it across your face.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She said, looking rather offended as if you had said something insulting.

“It means I love you.” You opened the door, and made your way out before she could respond. You could feel your heart racing, you just said ‘I love you’ to her.

“I love you too…” she whispered.

#enola holmes x reader #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #viscount tewksbury x reader #tewksbury x reader #enola holmes imagine #Enola Holmes x you #writers #fluff #x reader #Netflix

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respectthepetty · 1 year

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I am laughing so hard at the preview for MLC ep. 6; it looks like Heart and Li Ming will get to kiss before Gun and Tinn do in MSP lolololol (laughing where I can because I am wrung out like a dish towel, today's episode utterly pulverized my soul, petition to rename this show Emotionally Devastating Flashback Sequences, The Series)

I don't know if it will happen tomorrow for Li Ming and Heart (never trust the previews!), but in a show that has shown us how important a kiss is, I'm glad that Li Ming and Heart get to have one with the possibility of Jim witnessing it.

Jim hasn't kissed Wen. He won't let himself. We saw in the flashbacks how much care and love Jim had in the kisses he gave his ex. We saw in the flashbacks how much love and care Wen had in the kisses he gave Alan.

But they never had an audience. Jim was worried people would see, and Wen no longer wants people to see, but for Heart and Li Ming, two people who feel caged and isolated, a kiss between them with someone to witness their love...it could be life-changing, not just for them, but for the witness.

I hope if they kiss, and Jim sees it, he will see that love, he will see the possibility, and he will be reminded of what he has given up. Jim mentioned that love nearing 40 is much different than young love. He is wrong. It's not that the love is different; the heartache is. Jim doesn't want the heartache, so he doesn't accept the love. Jim might even be worried for Li Ming after seeing the (almost) kiss because he is always reminded of his heartache and wants to shield Li Ming from that pain.

But the kiss between Heart and Li Ming is needed for Jim to see that love is worth the heartache. So many people already love Jim; it's time he accepted some of it without the fear that it will destroy him.

#Moonlight Chicken #Li Ming x Heart #A kiss can change a philosophy #A kiss can change Jim's entire world

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e2019 · 2 months

Text

music 03/04/24 - 03/08/24

The Cranberries — No Need to Argue (1994), To the Faithful Departed (1996), Bury the Hatchet (1999), Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (2001)

for some reason, i had assumed that their debut album was the only one worth listening to (altho i knew that "Zombie" is one of their biggest hits). i was, of course, sorely mistaken. i still need to finish listening to the rest of their discography, but if what i've heard so far is any indication, their sound and the quality of their music is very consistent. i really liked Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can't We?, so of course i liked all of this as well.

idk if i just need to do a few more listens to become more familiar with their entire body of work, but apparently No Need to Argue is their best-selling album—i don't see it, the 2 that stand out to me most are Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can't We? and To the Faithful Departed. the former is their best imo and is the most characteristic of the band's identity. the latter shows that they have some versatility. in particular, the track "Salvation" really surprised me. it's shockingly noisy, punk, and energetic... for a Cranberries song, that is. different album, but "Zombie" is an outlier as well (it's grunge supposedly, no wonder why i don't care for it, idk why it's such a hit aside from the political messaging).

Cocteau Twins — Four-Calendar Café (1993)

good but not as good as Heaven or Las Vegas, probably

Polvo — Cor-Crane Secret (1992), Celebrate the New Dark Age (1994), S/T (1995), Exploded Drawing (1996), Shapes (1997), In Prism (2009), Siberia (2013)

i loved all of this a lot. my top 3 Polvo projects are Today's Active Lifestyles, Celebrate the New Dark Age, and Exploded Drawing, in that order. idk why it took me so long to listen to the rest of their discography considering how much i enjoyed Today's Active Lifestyles. easily a top favorite band for me. technical noise rock with an ethnic swing, need i say more?

The Cure — Faith (1981), The Head on the Door (1985)

these were the last 2 Cure albums i had yet to listen to. actually i think i'd listened to The Head on the Door before but idr. Faith is considered to be one of The Cure's best albums, but idk why, i didn't think much of it. same for The Head on the Door, except for "In Between Days", which is an awesome song. since it's the intro, you may as well just listen that first track then turn it off.

Lifelover — Pulver (2006), Erotik (2007), Konkurs (2008), Sjukdom (2011), Dekadens (2009)

in the past i've tried and failed several times to get into Lifelover. i was never ready for it because i didn't know anything about metal or how to listen to it. this time it finally clicked for me. i read that the idea behind this band is that it's "accessible" black metal because it incorporates melodic pop-like elements. i must confess i am a normie, and so i like their earlier projects better than their later ones because they seemed to get less pop/more metal over time. Pulver is by far my favorite, i loved it. i really like the vocalist (name: Kim Carlsson, i think), the way he screams and moans so emotionally it's almost erotic (or should i say... erotik...) and it makes me blush. it sounds like he's in pain, no wonder it's called dsbm.

i also read that some people are annoyed by the songwriting/structure of their songs. i can see that. sometimes it kinda seems like the band is just slapping together a bunch of disjointed musical movements at random. like they combined snippets from 5 different songs into one franken-song. this is how i used to feel when i listened to math rock before my brain had developed enough to appreciate it.

Cherubs — Heroin Man (1994)

i had big expectations going into this one because i read a bunch of reviews where people spoke very passionately and with such drama about how ear-splittingly intense and heavy and grating this album is. people were really acting like this is so noisy you can only stand to listen to it once in your life and never again. well i was a little disappointed on that front because to me this was very easy to listen to, not at all challenging, not too harsh or abrasive. nonetheless i liked it a lot. the only thing i disliked is the singer's voice, sometimes it's alright but mostly it's so fucking annoying.

and i read that it's some kind of sludge or sludge-adjacent genre. to me it was more like punk—especially in the lyricism, for the most part i couldn't really understand what the vocalist was saying, but it was still clearly apparent that the songwriting was very simplistic and juvenile, for example much of it is just repeating/screaming the song title over and over... not that it makes a difference to me because i like both kinds of music. but yeah.

Television — Marquee Moon (1977)

so like 10yrs ago i knew someone on a forum whose username was Marquee Moony. i never even thought to think about what it might mean, but it always sounded kind of funny to me. i guess it was a reference to this album. i wish it hadn't taken me so long to discover this album, but it's ok because i know i wouldn't have been able to appreciate it back then. it kinda reminds me of The Velvet Underground or The Beatles in that it's pretty normal by today's standards but is very experimental, noisy, and impressively progressive for the 90s.

Rodan — Rusty (1994)

i feel very lucky to have found this from a random spotify recommendation. i only listened once so far so i need to listen at least a million more times, but i really liked it. idk what happened exactly but i think this band only ever released 1 album because all the band members died so i'm kind of scared i just inherited some kind of curse.

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missionspecialist · 2 years

Text

People rightly get emotional about the perceived humanity of the Mars rovers but I just have to go off for a moment about the Soviet Venera program of the 60s-80s and how it gets me feeling just as emotional.

I think part of the appeal of the Mars rovers is their longevity—they have stuck around far longer than their projected lifespans, occasionally performing little rituals that reinforce the connection between these robots and their human parents (eg. the “happy birthday” song).

In contrast, the final and most sophisticated Venera landers lasted barely 2 hours on the surface of Venus. Why? Venus is a fucking hellscape that’s like 850°F (454°C) on the surface, with an atmospheric pressure 95 times higher than Earth’s, cloaked in corrosive clouds. Despite these insane conditions, Soviet scientists and engineers sent 16 spacecraft to Venus.

They failed a lot. The first two probes didn’t even get there. Venera 3 made it all the way. On board it carried a variety of scientific sensors, and a set of Soviet medallions. It impacted the surface in March 1966, but its instruments failed long before it could send back anything relevant. It was pulverized by the pressure and melted down into slag by the heat.

A year later, a reinforced Venera 4 managed to send back the atmospheric data its sibling hadn’t been able to capture. It was the first spacecraft to take these measurements on another planet. As it descended down into the hell that it was analyzing (91°F...200°F...oh...346°F... 504°F...oh god), the probe cracked open at the top and was crushed before reaching the surface. Like an egg. Like a skull.

Due to the data it sent back, the mission was considered a success, but its engineers had actually hoped that it would have been able to endure and make a soft landing. They had designed it to survive even in the unlikely event that it landed in water, and had equipped it with a battery that would last up to 100 minutes. Initially did not want to accept that it had not reached the surface intact.

In 1970, Venera 7 was the first probe to succeed in landing, but not without its own struggles. Things were going well until just before touchdown, when its parachute failed. The probe hit harder than expected, but it was so incredibly overbuilt that this time its titanium skull did not crack, merely toppling over onto its side and throwing its transmitter out of alignment. It was presumed dead, but, as scientists would only realize weeks later, it fought on for another 23 minutes, transmitting a faint stream of data back to its home millions of miles away before succumbing to the temperature and pressure.

Into the 80s, the Soviet Union landed 6 more spacecraft on the surface of Venus. They took color photographs (the first from another planet), recorded sound, and analyzed the soil. They allowed us to pull back Venus’s poisonous veil and see something we were not designed to see. These later landers were rated to last only 30 minutes on the surface, but they generally doubled or tripled that time. Under stifling heat, toxic air, and immense pressure, they gave their best until they ultimately boiled away.

If Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids, Venus is worse. The Mars rovers are like children you can watch grow up and slowly become more distant with age. The Venera probes/landers were children that their Soviet parents poured their time and energy and love into all the while knowing that they were going to be consumed in a blaze of glory turned miserable death. That their useful lifespans would be measured in mere minutes.

Maybe this is just me ascribing feelings that weren’t there to the engineers and anthropomorphizing the robots too much, I’m no scientist, but emotionally that is gut wrenching. When I first learned about these missions I cried. And not only because I feel for the spacecraft. This is also a story about a nation and culture that no longer physically exists (paralleling the landers themselves). Throwing a bunch of progressively more overbuilt stuff at a seemingly crazy task is one of the most stereotypically Soviet things I can think of. All of the Venera missions carried special medallions engraved with Soviet imagery and made out of titanium so as to withstand the Veniusian environment. On some other planet, possibly the only evidence of human existence is a bunch of melted metal and possibly a few representations of something that no longer exists, something that a lot of people at the time believed in, that held their hopes and dreams—that is haunting. To me the Venera program encapsulates a lot of the same elements of unexpected humanity as the saga of the Mars rovers, but is more tragic because it has a different level of temporality.

#feeling emotional about some hunks of metal again tonight lads #long post #sorry about that #I only meant for this to be like 1 paragraph and then realized I couldn't fit in it all in to just that #also like even if you hate the soviet union I think we can agree there is something to this #like on a human sociological level #venera #venera program #ussr #venus #mars #Soviet Space Program

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roobylavender · 1 month

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what are your thoughts on the naruhina dynamic? I adore hinata, we don't often get characters like her

i LOOOOVE naruhina omfg they were my day ones when i first got into naruto.. i used to enjoy fluffier ships at the time so they perfectly fit my modus operandi lol. i think it's a shame how underwritten their relationship is in main canon (in the sense that they don't get as much page time) because the set up is so good and the few moments they do share with each other are incredibly potent. the pain arc was utterly life changing for me and while i loathe the way the anime generally tends to portray most of the female cast this was one occasion where its expansion on the manga was actually so well executed and remains seared in my mind to this day (please watch from 2:06 of this amv it makes me feel CRAZY). unfortunately the ball was totally dropped with neji's death and instead of adapting hinata's full THREE page monologue to naruto the anime reduced it down to one line that she's consistently been mocked for even though her intentions in the aftermath of that event were so sincere.. i'm always baffled by people's hatred of her because they seem to act like she's timid or quiet on purpose as if she wasn't abused by her father for half of her life. and then they act like she's stupid and can only think about her feelings for naruto at the expense of everything else. but if it was anyone out there on the battlefield watching someone they love get absolutely pulverized would they not do something about it too regardless of their own ability in comparison? i don't think that moment ever came down to logic and i don't think it even had to. comparatively when she made a remarkable display of composure and emotional strength in response to her cousin's death everyone laughed at her for subsequently accepting the smallest bit of comfort (and don't even get me started on how neji fans feel about her generally.. they direct more hatred to that poor girl than they do her father lmao it's insane). it's simply bizarre the expectations she's held to and the consistency with which she's underestimated because she's capable of a lot emotionally and the development is there! and a lot of people act like if naruto really loved her he would have reciprocated during the main narrative but i always argue it was unrealistic for any relationship between the teen characters to be actualized during the main narrative because they were literally at war.. i'm an avid hater of the last admittedly but that's because i think it squanders the potential the main narrative immediately set up with naruto and hinata theoretically bonding over their grief and desire to take action to ensure nothing like what they went through ever happened again. i've always dreamed of post-war naruto commencing his education in leadership and diplomacy under tsunade's tutelage and that occasionally entailing long days in the library reading over historical scrolls and the like that happen to sometimes be on the same shelf as a scroll on the history of cursed seals, which of course hinata begins to look into after the war because she wants this branch clan business over and done with for good and if there's a way to remove those seals forever she'll find it. the idea of the two of them on awkward library non-dates that eventually segue into something more and develop a rapport and friendship between them that can bloom into love is simply so special to me like urgh they make me Weepy. i truly love them so so much and most of my naruto fanfiction is actually about them lol i do think a lot of it is cringe and over the years i tried to rewrite some of it but if you're interested in reading all of it is here

#outbox #as an aside you know how i started this saying i first loved them bc they were fluffy #as i rewrote some of my older naruto fics i angstified them.. bc there is so much angst in there if you really think about it #like they're two such deeply sad characters who manage to find healing in each other and there's so much trauma you can write about #in building them up to that moment where they find and take solace in each other #anyway. anyway. as you can surely tell i am compeltely normal about them

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badoobers · 10 months

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Jesus christ if you love fat guts so much why don't you just marry one?

(How's that for bullying?)

I’m trying ok 😭 but there’s no single gay bellies in my area 😭😭😭

(Very nice bullying, I feel very emotionally pulverized 😌)

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transcendentalmaggot · 8 months

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My head is a mess, what else is there? I feel utterly trapped, trying to dig my way out of mile deep hole with my bare hands. The absolute worst and most dehumanizing aspect to being disabled for me is the lack of agency, of having to depend on others who resent me for what’s beyond my control. My brother assumes that if I weren’t disabled, our incredibly unhappy and unwell parents would have stayed together, not dedicated their time to destroying themselves, isolating themselves and refusing any and all help for what are obvious signs of mental illness.

If I weren’t sick, they would have had a college fund for him and they’d be sober and present and not emotionally volatile with an inability to cope with pain in a healing manner. I manage my health because both my parents have often proven to be detrimental to my care (threatening staff, engaging in behavior that could endanger patients and staff, unrealistic customer expectations and a complete unwillingness to do research beyond reading chain emails from organizations for my conditions that are basically advertisements.

I tried so hard for so long to get as far away from here as possible and I always end up stumbling backwards due to a medical crisis. I love my family but the weight of constantly being made to feel like the problem in action and words has chiseled a deep wound in my spirit. I resent my own existence and how I can never give as much as I take. Which brings the guilt and shame of needing assistance from people who have hurt me greatly though there has been an astonishing degree of progress in reducing harm and causing hurt. I feel as if I’ve been portioning out pounds of flesh to feed the voracious appetite of insatiable gluttony, to keep the peace, to listen without judgement even when the words pulverize me whole, just a shell of hollow ash from a long ago erupted volcano in the shape of a person who burned away.

I’m so distraught. I can’t remember feeling this awful in years.. I’m having a booster month with my Spravato treatment to see if it helps with my mental health symptoms but I am petrified of hope at this point.

All I have and all that I desire is the freedom to choose and remain as true to myself as possible. I am many things but I know who I am. I need to find the urge to keep surviving in a world that feels crushing… I’m not making sense. But I hope everyone is feeling better than me and that if you feel similarly things begin to ease and become brighter for you. I want to relief for us all.

#personal #venting

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msexplorer · 2 years

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People like to say "Just be yourself", "Be real", or "You can be totally transparent with me", but 99% of the time, this is total bullshit.

Here's why:

To be one's True Self is to allow yourself to be unfiltered, wild, unpredictable, offensive, inappropriate, messy, impulsive, horny, volatile, emotional, sensitive, depressed, angry, dangerous, pensive, aloof, needy, and more, often all at the same time. The fact is that most people can't handle that kind of authentically dynamic intensity.

Most people have had very sheltered lives and haven't had the kind of soul-shattering journey it takes to UNDERSTAND (not just "know" through book knowledge) how to become re-integrated and maintain the fire in your soul, much less help others in this process. They just want you to be unguarded enough for them to feel safe, but not so free that it feels unpredictable and out of their control.

However, there are rare types who can hold safe space for this storm. These are people who have had severely traumatic childhoods, were emotionally pulverized by life, were reborn in the ashes, and have done immense amounts of healing work to become whole again. These people are experts at holding space and empathizing with the messy insanity that gets unleashed, providing you with valuable love & resources, meeting you on the level you need to become integrated in to your own wholeness.

If you find yourself needing one of these rare people, rest assured we are out there. You are not alone. We were once as you feel now, and we love you. Through the courage to confront your own healing, you have the potential to be a rare, integrated, and amazing gift to the world. Keep going. Don't suppress yourself to make others feel comfortable. Just reach out and find the right people to connect with.~

~Humberto Braga

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robbyrobinson · 2 years

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The Hardest Thing (Review)

My god.

There was so much to love about "The Hardest Thing," I don't know what to start with.

So, picking up immediately after "All In," the Core, a sore loser extraordinaire, rockets itself to the moon to kickstart it into crashing into Amphibia. Andrias explains that the moon was where his ancestors would perform their baby projects one in particular being that, should the opportunity arises, they would use the moon to destroy all life in Amphibia not even caring they will die as well. And they berated Andrias' breakdown in "A Froggy Little Christmas?" At least he didn't go "Oh, well, I lost: so I'm gonna pulverize them all with the moon!" Absolutely genius thinking by the Core...

Mother Olm informs Anne and the girls that, should they activate the powers of the Calamity Box, there could be a chance that they could never return to Earth. Despite that, they all resolve to stop the Core from wrecking the world.

After speculating about what Sasha and Marcy looked like in their Calamity forms, they were truly awesome with how they were using their powers to create things like tennis rackets. But, of course, Sasha and Marcy were not used to their powers like Anne was, so they end up losing steam fast.

But easily one of my favorite parts of the finale happened. Andrias, watching all this play out, is contacted by his father once more. His father begs him to save him and the others assuring that he could "join them" as being immortal rulers. I have said it before and I will again: up to this point, King Andrias is a good Disney Villain. In fact, I believe that he is one of the best well-written villains in a Disney Channel animated series (maybe second to Bill Cipher; somewhere before Lord Dominator). He was motivated to "atone" for his mistakes when the music box was stolen, but he was a victim of the long cycle of multiversal conquerors abusing the Calamity Box and being gaslit and emotionally abused by the Core. But, of course, this does not mean that he should be taken as too sympathetic at the cost of glossing over his worse actions.

Here he continues with baby steps, but he almost made my heart stop: he summons his frogbots and they all go into space (how can Anne and her friends, and then Sprig breathe in space)...but, in a surprising twist, he has them to help the girls push the moon. Then comes the cherry on the top of the sundae:

Core/Aldrich: You fool! You could have been immortal! What are you doing!?

Andrias: Something I should have done a long time ago...standing up to you!

And then he crushes the crown with his bare hand. Just perfect.

But because Sasha and Marcy were powering down, Anne needed to have them give her their Calamity Gems. Mother Olm originally informed her that there was a way to use the full capacity of the gems to defeat the Core...but it is at the cost of the user.

The two girls saying their goodbyes are bad enough on their own, especially in Marcy's case because of how she rashly whisked her friends to the world of Amphibia with little consideration to their safety, but Sprig's attempt to stop Anne...almost broke me. Well that scene and then the one towards the end. I loved how the scene represented the two friends being in two separate worlds. Sprig telling Anne to not go because of how much she changed his life for the better was heartrending.

Anne asks the gems to help her save the world she loved and she fires a frickin' laser beam into the moon. The music in this scene was so epic and awe-inspiring. I could feel the sheer force that Anne was using to concentrate that into a beam.

The Core's defeat is interesting. It is sweet, sweet cathartic irony. The Core tries to paint itself as being the ultimate lifeform, a god even. After all, it does house the minds of other Amphibia rulers who have cheated death through capturing specimens and experimenting on them and were worshiped by the kings who would then be assimilated into their ranks.

But instead, they were just megalomaniacal control freaks who were terrified by death uncaring that they were becoming some inhuman abomination that was a freak of nature. After all those thousands of years ruling Amphibia through puppet kings and causing untold misery and despair, the once mighty Core was now nothing more than a cowardly mortal being who is panicking once they realize that their time has come and they can do nothing about it. Their most loyal follower, Andrias, renounced them because of their consistent mistreatment of him. They evicted themselves from their metallic husk which could have allowed them to avoid being in fatalistic situations. Marcy did not join their ranks, nor was she their vessel anymore.

Their death is imminent and the only thing they can do now is stare, stare in utter disbelief as their plans literally blow up in their face. How could they, the great TRUE ruler of Amphibia, be bested by a human girl with Amphibia's greatest treasures? I would wish to know what their final thoughts/words were, but I'd like to imagine their final words are a scornful "BOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNCHHHHUY!!!!!"

It is just satisfying seeing all their eyes explode.

Kind of weird...but Anne does actually die and it is a disturbing thought. Sure, no blood or gore are seen, but she is reduced to pale leaves that disappear into the ether. Then we get the Calamity Gems creator, an eldritch being that takes the form of Anne's pet cat Domino because their true form would make Anne's head explode.

So, okay: Anne does die and in some ways, she did not because a copy of herself was made and her memories and personality went into that. Good thing that she'd probably forget that moment...or should. The creator explains that they wanted to test mortals by creating the Calamity Gems and see what they would do with them...which went as well as you'd imagine. Having seen that Anne sacrificed herself for Amphibia, they wanted her to become their successor, but was willing to ask Anne again in 78 years. Wow, that is totally not a creepy thought.

But the goodbye scene, my god. We all knew this was coming but I was not ready for it. Marcy's farewells to Olivia and Yunan are heartfelt with her lamenting that she wished she learned more about them. And, where the waterworks were flowing, she bids a goodbye to Andrias. That's right: even after all the terrible things he had done, she forgives him enough to say farewell when she had every right to hate him. All Andrias can give her is a pained "take care, kiddo." I really wished that, should things have played differently, they could have been legitimate friends.

Sasha's goodbye to Grime was sad but also funny with how they try to hold it together. But Anne's...heartbreaking.

She first says goodbye to Polly, and then Hop-Pop. Hop-Pop's response is heartbreaking with him saying that if she ever wanted a warm meal or her old room back, he was always welcome having since coming to accept her as a granddaughter. But Sprig...good god.

I lost it. Just seeing Sprig scrunch up his favorite hat out of sadness and heartbreak made me cry hard. He knew that there would come a time he would have to say goodbye to his best friend, but there was no way that he would be mentally prepared to do something like that. Of course, they had to have their final words to each other being "Spranne against the world."

With the three human girls gone, the Calamity Box finally disintegrates. Ten years pass and we see a few things around Wartwood from Toadie becoming the mayor to Yunan and Olivia becoming a couple (called it). Even Bessie somehow having a snail-bird hybrid with Joe Sparrow. Hm. Well, I was honestly not expecting that; I thought Joe dancing for Bessie was just a one-time thing.

We see that Hop-Pop settled down with Sylvia and had fulfilled his avocado dream. Polly is a fully-grown frog (but she will always be a tadpole in my eyes) with Sprig and Ivy about to adventure to an unknown continent not touched by frog, newt, or toad.

Andrias had abdicated the throne and became a farmer under imprisonment. I was surprised that Andrias did not die at the end, but I am honestly happy that he was kept alive. After all the suffering he was put through by his father and the Core, seeing him carry Barrel's war hammer as a walking stick finally free from all the pain is just satisfying. If Barrel and Leif could see him now, they would be proud of him.

But of course, the biggest thing is the ritual ceremony depicting a statue of Anne to commemorate her as the hero who saved their world. God thinking about it makes me tear up again.

As for the three girls: Marcy eventually moved and began a webcomic. Sasha now worked with kids and Anne worked as a herpetologist at an aquarium. She even made a little model of the Plantar house in the exhibit and named a frog Sprig after a dear, dear friend of hers.

While I can spend time theorizing on how the girls could return to Amphibia or go traveling universes if Terri worked on the portal machine, I do like that the show does convey how those you love will always be with you even when you cannot see them or be with them at that moment.

It is sappy, but it is true: they will live on in your heart as memories and how you base your decisions or live your life by using what you had learned during your time with them to become a better person. Without Anne going to Amphibia, she would have never been able to find out who she wanted to be had she continued to be coerced into doing things that went against her best interests. She went from not liking frogs to cherishing those special times.

Perhaps she'll cross paths with Sprig and the others again, but for now, both sides are continuing to live their lives.

Just a perfect finale. Thank you Matt Braly for your work on this show. I will never forget this experience.

#review #reviews and thoughts #hardest thing #the hardest thing #amphibia #disney channel #reviews #series finale

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