#Wer

[goblinpuppy35]

David Thewlis

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - Bonus Disc - 2004

(Special feature on bonus disc, a rudimentary 360 tour of the defence against the dark arts classroom)

[astoriachef]

[latinapoetbts]

CHAPTER 2: The First Ones - The Pact: The Healer - KTH / Reader Insert (Latina) * AU- Fantasy: Werewolves, Smut, Violence, Blood,

Summary: Y/N is a 24-year-old woman living alone in the countryside while her brothers fight in a war between two kingdoms and her father is away serving as the lead doctor to the royal family with a sick prince. She is independent and intelligent. She comes across a strange and suspiciously the most attractive man she has ever seen in her life in need of help, wounded and possibly dying. Against her judgment, she takes him in to tend to his wounds. Unaware of the supernatural world she is about to be thrown into and as a key player in saving an entire species from extinction. Tae Hyung needs her more than ever. Labels:

Smut, romance, angst, blood and violence, guns, werewolves, AU- Supernatural World, slow burn, some non-con touching.

Chapter 2: I was frozen, unsure of what to do and what would happen next; I just knew I needed to keep my breath slow and steady. I watched as his eyes swirled and illuminated with golden flecks. I’d never seen such a thing; it was bewitching. Was he a witch, a demon, an angel, or what? He lifted off of me, crouching to my left, still close enough to grab or pounce on me, his eyes never leaving mine. I sat up slowly, careful not to make sudden movements and certain to keep my eyes glued on his. His mouth had softened, but his teeth were still clenched. I put myself in a crouched, squatted position that matched his hope that, by coying, he would see me less as a threat. His watchful eyes were still on me, but this time, they were roaming over me, maybe trying to size me up. I imagined he was attempting to make sense of this situation just as much as I was. A smile spread across my lips; maybe if I show myself to be friendly, he will be less likely to try and kill me, I thought to myself. His eyes darted to my mouth, and then his lips parted, teeth bared what looked like a big toothy grin as if he was examining his teeth in looking glass. A loud belly laugh ripped through me, causing my head to fall back and my shoulders to shake in pure joy. He was attempting to copy my smile. I stopped my laughter and snapped my eyes to his as soon as I heard his growls and snarls. Uh oh, I don’t think he liked my laughter.  I smiled once again, getting down on all fours; he mirrored my motions until I saw him wince. He was bleeding again, I knew he was in pain. It was time to apply my herbal pain ointment of willow bark and replace the bandage. But would he let me, I wondered to myself? 

I pointed at his shoulder as I crawled slowly toward him grabbing the clean cloth in the pocket of my apron. I slowly sat on my knees, took the cloth and gently touched it to his forearm where the blood had dripped down to wipe it upward stopping at his soiled bandage. I bit my lip nervously as I reached for the bandage, my hands trembling slightly. I could feel him watching me as I gently tugged at the bandage.

“I–I–I’m just, I–I want to help you…I—m going to change your bandage and….put ointment that will help with the pain…” I tried to keep my voice steady and calm but it was difficult with my heart beating in my chest. He just sat in silence letting me touch him, wincing now and then as I unwrapped the bandage. What had changed in him? He had become so docile and calm. What was different? He sat on his knees matching me as I pulled the pain ointment out and carefully dabbed ointment on the wound pursing my lips, drawing near to his shoulder, and blowing on the wound softly. He just sat there continuing to watch my every move in silence. I rose to my knees, he mirrored my movement rising to his knees as I tried to wrap a fresh bandage around his shoulder.  Realizing he was much taller than me, I slowly stood attempting to make myself taller so that I could wrap the bandage but he mirrored my actions again standing up only to fall over against me. I held his weight and he grunted his shoulder bumping against mine in the fall. 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry..let me help you, please. Stay on your knees, please,” I spoke softly as I gently pushed him back to his knees. He seemed to understand and stayed there motionlessly still observing my every move. I continued to speak to him softly, narrating what I was doing before and during my motions. I felt his eyes still observing me closely. I kept my eyes on the task at hand, nervous to make eye contact noting how close I was to his very naked body.

“All done”, I smiled at him before shuffling backward slowly on my knees. Once again he mirrored my smile, it was awkward and enduring as if each attempt at smiling was foreign to him. Wonder and curiosity, what happened to him swirled in my mind. I stood up and he moved with me but wobbled a little. He must still feel weak from his wound, I thought as I reached my hand to him.

“Let me help you”, as I grabbed both his hands, slowly guiding him to the nearby daybed that was also serving as a living room couch. I could not help but wonder what happened to this man. He was injured and did not seem to speak at all, surely someone out there was looking for him but was that someone kind or cruel? The more I thought about what led him to this exact moment the more I started to believe maybe whoever might be looking for him should never be allowed to find him. Perhaps those from his past are cruel.  I sat him on the daybed and reached for the blanket, laying it on his waist as a cover as I explained to him that it was important to keep ourselves covered while gesturing at my dress. He took the hem of my dress in his hand rubbing it with his fingers then bringing his nose to smell the material. He did the same to the bedsheet on his lap. He lifted the cover looking down at himself, carefully examining, touching himself, shuddering slightly. Oh, I suck a breath through my teeth catching a glimpse of his now very thick, very long, and very hard boner. His eyes glanced up to me looking inquisitively then back down at his boner now fully uncovered.  I bite my lip attempting not to giggle as I observed him trying to push his boner back down only for it to spring back up, his face in a bewildered expression. I grabbed the cover from the floor and covered him again, “This needs to be covered, it’s our private parts. Are you hungry? Let me get us something to eat”.

I turned away, standing, trying to put distance between us, my cheeks heating, my face feeling flushed. What the hell is going on here? His behavior is very odd. My mind tried to make sense of his mannerisms and behavior. Had he hit his head at some point so hard that he doesn’t recognize his body and he doesn’t remember how to talk? I had so many questions without answers. As I turned to walk away, I noticed he tried to stand; I gently pushed him down, “Stay. Wait. I’ll bring you food”. I motioned with my mouth, eating. I quickly plated up two bowls of stew from the stove and dragged the bench from the dinner table to us so we could eat comfortably over it. Eating together was another eventful challenge as was every other action leading up to bed. Using a spoon, eating out of a bowl, walking around, sleeping on a bed, and using the piss pot seemed to all be new to him. 

As the night ended I documented in my journal everything that had happened in detail taking careful notes of my observations of this mystery man. He did not know how to use a spoon, eat from a bowl or use a piss pot, hell even walking although he did stabilize rather quickly. I felt like I was watching a grown-ass man as a baby. Where had he been? Was he raised in the woods? Or was he injured so severely he needed to learn how to be human again? Or worse was he abused so badly and mistreated this is what he had become. How could anyone be so cruel? These were the only conclusions I could draw at this time. 

I noted how his behavior transformed from aggression and fear to calm and pliant. Allowing me to touch him, bandage him, and help him eat. What changed for him? It was like night and day. I prepared a spot on my living room floor near him in case he broke into a fever or needed anything. I was wary of his gunshot wound; there was a high risk of infection and I needed to stitch the wound. I spent the next hour watching him as he slept, attempting to sketch every curve of his body. I was time and time again left breathless by how fuck beautiful he is. I swallowed, watching his chest rise and fall, my eyes lingering on his lips. Remembering the way his lips and nose pressed against my throat, the hot, wet feeling of his tongue licking at my neck. I felt my body shudder at the memory. My cheeks were hot and flushed. I was not a virgin but no man had ever scented or licked me the way that he did. At the time, I felt pure fear but now I feel something very different. I reached for my water and decided it was time to turn in for the night. I washed my wash, teeth, feet, and hands after changing into my sleeping gown and turned off the candle light slipping into bed, and slipping a knife underneath my pillow, just in case. I didn’t think I would need it but I couldn't let my guard down just yet.

Chapter 1 | Hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for reading! All the likes are motivating to work on chapter 3 next week! Would love to hear feedback! And, of course, reblogs are such an honor! Thanks!

[ohnedichgibtskeinwir]

Du fühlst dich nach zuhause an.

[hommella]

Hat vertrauen an Bedeutung verloren?

Wem kann ich denn meine Sorgen, Zweifel, Gefühle und Ängste anvertrauen? Ich muss immer damit rechnen, dass sie nicht sicher sind. Das ich nicht sicher bin.

- Hommella

[acedeathcard]

↸ Curious.. If he bribed Dalv 50k to film a music video, would he really do it?

[bevebevo]

[pink-marker]

Monster high sona!!! I wanna be a werwolf 🐶

[real-hot-grl-shi]

Fuck.

Tw!!!: Sexual thoughts, depressive episodes, my ex. (a whole ass warning.), sex, mentions of sh, wet dreams, mentions of breakdowns, mentions of going non verbal, depression, hypersexuality, the word fuck is used alot, mentions of fainting(??), mentions of kinks (degration), humiliation (you need to squint to see it.), real life events (fuck my life) 

I feel nasty. 

My dreams are always subtle, never violent or sexual in any regard, until last night. And even worse, it wasn’t somebody I wanted to remember. Now now, and not ever. Heavy breathing, soft moaning of each others names, whatever. Its not that im upset about the dream. Dreams like those come every once in a while, but the person who was in it. My ex. The one who built me up and broke me down like a jenga tower. It wasn’t just sex though. It would never be just sex. It was love. Something both beautiful but a curse. Something that made me who I am today. A sloppy, helpless, hopeless romantic. In that six seven hour dream, it went like it was reality. He took me out, we watched movies, we geeked out about shows, etcetera. But the last thing he said to me in that dream, us breathing heavy, skin to skin, sweating like hogs, was “I love you.” 

Lies.

I woke up, shaking, soaking, and mentally shaming myself of my dream. The memories of it hit me like a train, focing me to be in a state of shock. I couldn’t even move. And what was worse is that all of those damn memories of him. Hit me once again. His name played in my head like a broken record. And all I can feel is the puddle of my release coating a margin of my sheets, and covering the majority of my thighs. My body was coated with a layer of sweat and I could. Not. Stop. Shaking. I felt like a hog. And I smelt like sex. Despite me being a virgin. I was never obligated to any type of sexual actions, well, most. I haven’t felt like this in a while. And I never wanted to feel like this again. My head was ringing, and all I could make out was the loud babbles of my little sister in the other room I couldnt even talk. This is exactly what I was scared of the moment that I fell for that idiot. The moment that I gave my heart to that idiot. The moent what I gave my body to that idiot. That idiot. Eventually, I did muster the strength to get up and drag my trembling body to the bathroom. I didnt want to touch a inch of my body. It felt like I was inprisoned in my own desires and fanasties. The right side of my head was pounding and my eyes were lidded, trying to block out all the light that poured into my retnas. My body, still covered in sweat was now squeezed together, my tlighs especially. I wonder how he would feel if he saw me like this, no clothes on, soaking wet, sitting on the lid of the toilet seat, and whimpering, not in pleasure, but shame. Nothing but shame was what I found. How dare I feel this amount of pleasure to the person who left me to rot. How dare I get turned on when he degraded me. How dare I still love him deep deep down after all these months. How dare i. 

It had to be 15 minutes before I stood up again, all I was wanting to do was get my hands on him, and on myself. But I would’nt. I could’nt. Hell, I didnt even have the energy to speak a full sentence. It was tourture. Nothing but tourture. If we were still together, I would’ve been calling him right now and getting ready all giddy and joyful, like I used to be. But now its different. Instead of giggling with me he would be laughing at me. And how im so desprate for any type of romantic affection, I would get it from my ex if I had to. Nasty. Disqusting.  All i could do was look at myself. Past scars that were now healed and now visible to the eye still were shown in my vision. My brown eyes had this dark glint that I can’t even explain, and my mouth was open, panting like a dog. All I could say was one thing.

“You look nasty.” I hissed to myself, my voice cracky but quiet, like a kittens mew in the dead of night. I let out a small weep, closing my eyes and letting my upper half of my body drop to the rim of the sink, my arms covering my head and hair in shame of what i have done. What have I done? It was evident that it was’nt a good doing, but was it intentional? Absolutely not. I just wanted to be loved and appreciated. But I couldn’t even have that from the person that I loved, from the person who I love. Someone get me a nerd that is tall and slender before i have a breakdown. Pretty please?? I thought to myself, letting out a small snicker, and holding my head up. I miss my father. Where did that come from? He left three years ago! Whatever. Back to being sad I guess. I walked out of the bathroom, only to find myself slumping back on the bed without a inch of energy left in my body. It felt like all my body shut down, but im still conscious. Is this another episode? 

Right. My mom doesn’t give a shit enough to take me to the doctor. But she of course take my sister to the doctor for a stye that only gotten bigger because she waited long enough. Its not like i hate my sister, in fact im happy to see her in a better state, but it feels like im just some rando in this house ever since she turned one year old. It felt like i was paralyzed, more and more thoughts just jamming into my brain, more and more reasons to end it all, I thought. 

My alarm clock went off, songs by Summer Walker and Brent Faiyaz filling the room. Not a good time for slow music. I closed my eyes, too awake to go back to sleep but too asleep to open them again. Of course, the song was about sex. I let out a heavy breath beginning to shake as the lyrics flowed into my mind like a damn cartoon, clear as day. Fuck was the only word i could think about, different meanings, same word. I felt like a mindless zombie but instead of wanting brains, i wanted some dick instead. Fucking whore. I abuptly thought as the song “Body” By Summer Walker ended. Body. Nice title. Nice song. Nice meaning. Especially when you listen closely to it, instead of listening to it when you fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I want to fuc- *click.*  

My train of thought ended when the door opened, my mother seeing my sweaty dazed state but not paying it any attention, telling me that shes about to leave to drop my little sister off. I hope she has fun at daycare, unlike how im getting flooded with dirty thoughts of how i could be fucking like bunnies with someone if i had a better body, a better personality, a better attitude, a better closet which i would’ve had if my mom let me live a little. Fuck this. Fuck me. I thought at once, the right side of my head hurting, still soaking wet, looking like i went though hell and back, and  getting up to pick out my clothes for school against my will. Fuck.

[mrsbutterbirne]

Wir reden kein Wort mehr, doch es macht mir nix mehr aus

Und kannst du nicht mehr stehen, bringt dich eine andere nach Haus'

Ja, auch wenn dein Hoodie noch immer hier rumliegt Geht der Geruch so langsam raus

Und wenn wir uns sehen, merk' ich, es macht mir nichts mehr aus

Scheiß' auf „Wer, wenn nicht wir?“

Vielleicht war's auch nur 'n Riesenfehler Sag, wem erzählst du von mir

Wie du mir damals von ihr erzählt hast?

Sag, wer hilft dir jetzt tragen, ist dein Leben schwer?

Wem erzählst du deine Träume?

Wer holt dich von der Party, wenn kein Bus mehr fährt?

Wer erträgt jetzt deine Freunde?

Wen nimmst du als Ausrede

Wenn du kein' Bock hast, jemand zu sehen?

Und wer löst für dich, egal um welche Uhrzeit, jedes

Noch so kleine Problem?

Wir reden kein Wort mehr, doch es macht mir nix mehr aus❤️

-Tom Twers

[slimequeenofeverything]

#30: Wer (2013)

Ok I’m gonna be real here, I don’t know where to put this one. There are gonna be a lot of movies in the middle part of this list that aren’t bad or good enough to be very memorable. This one starts off pretty interesting. It positions itself as a courtroom drama where our protagonist is a public defender for a misanthropic, hairy man accused of killing a family in France. I liked this beginning as a different take on the werewolf genre, but about a third of the way in, it’s revealed that he is, in fact, a werewolf, and the movie becomes an extremely mediocre werewolf flick from then on. 

There are a few redeeming qualities at least. There’s a pretty cool scene where the werewolf escapes his harnesses and goes on a rampage through the hospital–much like my favorite scene in The Wolfman (2010). There’s a hilarious werewolf skinhead moment. And there’s a fun werewolf fight scene in a pond at the end. Unfortunately, there’s a lot more bad than good. 

The werewolf costuming was pretty lazy. He just kinda gets more hairy and feral looking. A lot of these movies slap some makeup, a pair of contacts, and some fangs on a person and call them a werewolf. Most of these end up looking pretty awful (I’m looking at you Wolves (2014) and I am Lisa (2020)). Wer’s is more laid back which is still pretty bad but doesn’t take me out of the moment as much as some others. 

One thing that really bothered me about this movie is how it frames the main character’s job as a public defender. Several times throughout the courtroom drama part of the movie people call her immoral for defending the guy accused of murder. She holds fast to her belief in due process but is proven horribly wrong when she orders a medical exam which he escapes from and kills a bunch more people. It sends this pretty gross message of “wow, letting accused people have rights is bad sometimes because murderers will get to murder again.”

This brings me to another Great Observation about werewolf movies that is unfortunately quite frustrating: 

3) Many werewolf movies have terrible politics   

I could have touched on this point with Wolf of Snow Hollow but I didn’t feel like it, so I’ll elaborate here instead. For some reason the werewolf genre seems to attract a sort of conservative, heteromasculine kinds of ideology that really doesn’t hold water. Whether it’s werewolf-ed guys becoming more “alpha” or public defenders doing more harm than good, I found it grimly interesting just how many of the movies on my werewolf pilgrimage had some gross politics creeping in. Now there were plenty of exceptions to this rule and even several movies with terrible politics that I still genuinely loved. But I wanted to bring this observation up now, because I think it’s a useful lens to evaluate these movies by. 

Wow, I didn’t want to devote this much text to talking about Wer of all movies, but oh well. Lets move on…

[fusdbcom]

Ende der vierten Staffel von „Succession“ erklärt: Wer ist der neue CEO?

Eine Abstimmung, ein Smoothie aus der Hölle und eine letzte Runde Hinterlist beendeten die vierte und letzte Staffel von HBO Nachfolge. „With Open Eyes“, das Finale der Show, war ein echter Knaller Nachfolgeist eine Kombination aus dramatischen Familienstreitigkeiten und schwarzem Humor, die zu morbiden neuen Höhen … und neuen Tiefpunkten führt. Ja, am Ende von „With Open Eyes“ hat Waystar Royco…

[julianusjacopus]

villa in pietra rossa: grattacielo di alberi collegato a wer

[politikwatch]

Wer #ernsthaft noch bei #X ist: ⬇️🤬🧠💩

[raebonnz]

happy lizzie week i mean lizzie week i mean lizzie week i mean lesbian week