Mutha Melatonin

❣️ally |20s| 18+ she/her❣️ An expression of my interests. Feel free to interact. Occasionally I write - ao3 Enjoy!

[achillesinhighheels]

[thistimearoundandaround]

[podencos]

I owe it to myself to reunite who I am with who I’m capable of being

[achillesinhighheels]

Pam Grier , 1970

[m1str3ss]

the last time a sex scene moved me was when that nun stuck her fingers straight into the priests mouth in grotesquerie (2024) otherwise i’ve remained unimpressed.

[m1str3ss]

shane sticking his thumb in ilya’s mouth and ilya looking extremely red faced, messy, and drunk? heated rivalry you’ve moved me.

[m1str3ss]

i could power a small city off the strength of the dynamics between qimir and osha. idgaf, i can’t believe they got in the way of me bearing witness to the strangers feral dubiously devoted dog routine. the acolyte (2024) you’ve moved me and i will in fact mourn you.

[m1str3ss]

you guys think raylan gets disgusted with himself over how much he wants to fuck tim up sometimes or do you think he’s chill about it?

i think he wishes he didn’t get off on pissing tim off so much, but can’t be bothered to do anything much about it.

i think he likes that tim keeps coming back anyways.

[m1str3ss]

the last time a sex scene moved me was when that nun stuck her fingers straight into the priests mouth in grotesquerie (2024) otherwise i’ve remained unimpressed.

[m1str3ss]

shane sticking his thumb in ilya’s mouth and ilya looking extremely red faced, messy, and drunk? heated rivalry you’ve moved me.

[m1str3ss]

god i hope they make the female lead black or native in the x-files reboot and piss everyone off to kingdom come. i promise i won’t ask for anything else.

[m1str3ss]

something something, raylan can’t play lookout for tim anymore when they set him up on the rifle because he spends more time staring at the strip of tender skin on the back of tim’s neck than anything else.

he’ll sit there mapping the way tim stays laid out, the way the line of his back stays straight, the way he’s pressed low on his belly in the dirt, the way he doesn’t fucking move. raylan wants to get his hands on some of that careful calm, see what makes ranger gutterson sweat.

tim feels like a goddamn ant under a magnifying glass. the back of his neck is burning up, his spine is in fucking knots, and his hair is standing on end. raylan is a goddamn hawk behind him and he doesn’t know if that makes him focus or if he’s going to jump out of his own fucking skin.

worst of all tim doesn’t know if he wants it to stop. he wasn’t lying to art when he said sometimes he gets a little spooked holding his rifle, sometimes harlan county and highway hills look like steaming sand. how raylan figures it out is beyond him.

they don’t talk about it, but every once in a while the man will knock his boot square against his fucking ankles, a sick staccato he finds himself matching while they wait. makes him focus on the burnt up bluegrass, makes him want to grind his cock into the dirt and see what that drums up. but, he’s not a degenerate and he refuses to jump first wherever raylan is involved.

the cowboy’s just going to have to pony up if he wants tim to break.

[m1str3ss]

intellectually, i understand that raylan does not smoke. narratively, thematically if you will, i think raylan can really burn down the same cigarettes his momma used to sneak off with when some of those hills rose up in her and arlo just had her absolutely through. I think raylan can burn up a whole pack if he isn't careful. he oscillates between buying loose or buying a whole carton, smoking one singular stick, and throwing the rest away only to regret it when he gets that fix in him again.

i think frances smoked cigarettes she rolled herself. if she could scrape up enough change she was sure arlo wouldn't miss, she would go out and buy a pack of Virgina Slims and could make it last the whole year. the smell would calm raylan down when he was too young to understand why, all he knew was that when his momma broke out her pack, arlo would be well and truly gone for a good long while. drunk somewhere and wreaking havoc, but not home bothering either of them.

raylan smokes Slims--while ignoring how mostly women smoke those--like his momma when he's reaal low. lower than getting drunk or finding a warm body or getting in bar fights or taking drives through back roads he has no business being on.

the first time anyones catches him it's right off the back of a bad case. raylan had stayed late, combing detail over detail over detail when he excused himself. he marched himself outside, lit into his stick, and scarcely 3 puffs in tim came ambling out the same door for a breather.

tim had sat himself right down on the steps raylan was standing by and had said absolutely nothing while he watched raylan smoke. with his shadowed gaze and his mouth pressed thin, he met raylan square on, eye to eye, before he breathed the words, "my momma used to smoke those," quiet into the night. raylan had left it at that, his cigarette smoked down to the nub, and sent it careening still lit into the dark as he headed back into the precinct. instead, he just knocked his boot hard against tim's outstretched leg and said nothing, and tim had watched him go.

anyway.

[girlsadist]

we need to get more girls into sadism

[brainyxbrainyxbrainy]

seven(ish) sentences sunday !

twas tagged by @itookyoudown (thank you fellow justie!)

This is from the third chapter of a WIP of mine where Tim is a hustler Raylan has tried to “save” in only that way Raylan can, which is to say, by having sex with him and getting deeply attached to yet another witness he is supposed to protect 💅🏼 Only Tim gets himself into some deeeeep trouble.

Raylan grips his gun tighter as he sees Boyd’s men grab Tim by his scruff and pull him roughly up off the floor. The boy struggles, snapping his teeth and snarling at his handlers. He looks around wildly, swiping at their faces, trying to gouge out their eyes and claw at their necks.

When he sees the marshal he ran away from, he freezes. His mouth falls open, and Raylan knows he’ll to call to him but he can’t let Tim do anything that would further jeopardize his life. So he shakes his head, silently mouthing the word “No.”

Tim obeys, for once, and shuts his mouth.

“Raylan,” Boyd says, leaning back in his chair. He gestures to Tim behind him. “Is this yours?”

“Yes,” Raylan says, switching off the safety on his gun. “He’s mine.”

I’m tagging @htgzoo :)

[m1str3ss]

walk with me.

30 Days of Night (2007) but it’s fucking tim gutterson local alaskan sheriff and deputy u.s. marshal raylan givens in pursuit of some knucklehead that thought he could hide out in alaska. obviously raylan rocked up to the last frontier with no notice, because that’s raylan, and sheriff gutterson has no time for bullshit. he needs the cowboy gone yesterday, otherwise givens has to stay with him for the month, and he is not doing that.

queue obvious creepy crawlies, queue raylan having a little knowledge for old stories he refuses to believe in, queue tim seeing the same nightmares he thought he dreamt up in the cold desert.

they can work together because they both skirt around the understanding of there being much more than hills in kentucky’s hollers, and tim knows desert nights are a different beast of dark entirely. so they mash their heads together if it means the people have a chance of making it to that far away morning.

assurance in skill turns to being dependent, dependence turns to trust, trust turns to ???

tell me i’m wrong.

[paranoidgemsbok]

me talking about horror to normal people: its not torture porn, horror is an incredible medium to explore personal complex emotions and the genre at large can really speak to a society's unspoken fears at a given time in history

me talking about horror to my pervert friends: ranking saw traps by how horny they are

[m1str3ss]

tim’s not a jealous man, but he thinks if he hears “we dug coal together” one more time he might just go and kill boyd crowder himself.

tim drank himself into oblivion the same night the thought crossed his mind.

[m1str3ss]

raylan starts thinking too hard about how every time tim steps in front of him he’s letting raylan right at his back, no questions asked, no hesitation, trust pure and simple. if raylan is behind him then it’s okay.

makes him want to do something stupid like fit his palm against the top of tim’s spine and hook his thumb and fingers hard under the man’s jaw. makes him want to lean over tim’s shoulder, push in close and see how he’ll take that. he thinks about what tim might say through those clenched teeth and pretty pink lips of his.

raylan just keeps his stetson low over his eyes so he’s not too tempted to catch tim’s gaze when art sends them out on their next run. no point in it.

[m1str3ss]

you actually cannot convince me that raylan is even the slightest bit adjusted to the hell arlo put him through. arlo slapped him clear cross his face in front of his boss and coworker, and raylan--who is like fucking 40--sat there and took it. A slap is so degrading. Someone willing to do something like that to someone so grown and established would have been a genuine terror when raylan was young and without a means of escape or defending himself.

raylan will fight randoms in a bar (and lose) before laying his hands on his own father? more willing to just shoot him than put his hands on arlo? yeah, something is going on there and i must know what it is.