Wow I Finally Watched Sunshine
What happens when you put Cillian Murphy and Chris Evans in close confinement on their way to send a bomb into the sun?
Did I mention the incredible Michelle Yeoh and Benedict Wong are apart of these space shenanigans?
Have I gotten your attention of this very underrated movie yet?
Sunshine came out in 2007 and I had never once heard or seen anything of this movie until a few days ago, While I was innocently scrolling through Disney+, This movie appeared.
Now, Being a huge fan of Chris Evans for many years and recently diving into the work of Cillian Murphy, I was already hooked.
But then you tell me this is a Sc-fi Psychological Thriller set in space?
NOW I REALLY AM HOOKED.
But this isn't just a 'For the scares and spooks' of space travel that film often portrays, This is a film ahead of it's time. A story that could be told in any year, Because this will always be relevant.
This movie makes you think.
What is beyond the stars? What would you do in these humanity-testing scenarios? What would you do when you've come face to face with not only the surface of the sun, but also your own heart?
A movie that questions your own humanity, A movie that has made you feel something so real that it makes your chest feel tight as if you're in that scenario, As if you're apart of a team with these people by your side day in and day out - That is a job well done.
While this movie did take a little bit to get into, it builds the suspence of what's really going on here. But everytime you think you'll look away, you reach for your phone - The movie does something that makes you need to rewind and go "Did they really just say that?"
And when you reach that moment.
There's no going back.
This movie was so incredibly different than anything I've experience for a while and As a thorough enjoyer of the Sci-fi genre in all different forms, This was a truly pleasant surprise.
***Please be cautious minor spoilers in the tags***
***Please read the content warnings of this movie before watching, it can depict scenes that may trigger some individuals***
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She beat his chest.
She beat his chest and he held her.
Well, as best he could with one arm. As best he could in this newfound partnership with a kid. As best he could not know what plagued her mind so much that she lashed out against him. What thoughts and memories were circulating in her mind to send a strong, wise girl into feeling such a way.
His phantom pain and loss on his right side longed to hold her back. To hold her as she deserved to be held. Had she ever been held before? His left hand only jumped between rubbing small circles down her back, tracing her spine, to threading his fingers through her blonde strands, carding the tangles out as he combed his fingers through. But it wasn’t enough.
His hand, as it was against the crown of her head, left too much empty space across her back. He wasn’t holding her at all that point; she was pushing herself into his chest, her fists balled up against it. And with a hand across her back left out, what he figured, was some degree of comfort and reassurance, purely based on the way her breathing changed every time he did.
He couldn’t give her the best of both.
But he did what he could. What, deep down, he thought was right. He’d never comforted anyone, let alone a young girl, in a long time. He hadn’t been comforted, truly comforted, or held in a long time. Like the pain in his right side, it was a sort of phantom pain. Something there was missing, but he could never get it back.
He didn’t say anything and it caught her, and, funny enough, him by surprise. He never stopped talking, they both knew that. She’d told him as much.
You talk a lot.
That I do, birdie.
Even if it was mindless information; meaningless words that meant no stretch of importance in the Black, he said it anyway. Random stories of his time on the Green, mythical tales, old partners, some phrase he picked up in his time as a scoundrel and it’s history that needed a twenty minute explanation. Everything had a place in the air between him and anyone who would listen. Or wouldn’t.
But now, in a moment of emotional vulnerability that they somehow managed to keep at bay until right now, he had nothing. Not a word to lighten the mood (and he’d thought about it, but decided against it), or a word of comfort. Though, he wasn’t exactly sure what could comfort her through something like this.
Her cries had quieted down, only small hiccups strewn across his chest and following sniffles and gasps for air. She loosened her fists against his chest, very gently fiddling with the slack of his undershirt.
He’s not Damon.
Eventually, she adjusted against him and pulled her arms away from his chest and wrapped them around his middle. She held onto her own hands around his back and settled her face more into his chest.
He’s not Damon.
He continued tracing her spine. Whenever a few more tears fell or she’d sniffle or let out a small whimper, he’d bring his arm as far around her back as he could, squeezing her tightly for a moment, eyes closed as his cheek would graze the side of her head. He’d turn into it, every time, nearly swaying them side to side to hold her as tight as he could.
How much was too much? Could he hold her as tightly as he wanted to, that he believed she deserved for all that she’s gone through?
She was a tough kid, that was for sure. He, honestly, never imagined having to do this. Having to comfort some kid who shouldn’t have been been on the green in the first place. A girl who’s father he killed. He shouldn’t be doing this.
He shouldn’t be caring. Shouldn’t be attached, if he could even call it that. Shouldn’t want to hold her tight enough to squeeze the life out of her. To reassure her and try and understand the thoughts in her head and hold them in his own. For her to lay her grievances on him so he could bare them in her place. He shouldn’t be wanting to take care of her.
Reluctantly, she pulled away slowly, reaching up to wipe at her face with her sleeve before he could see her.
Ezras hand hovered, unsure what exactly to do with it. He let it fall to his own side, hesitant to keep on her if she didn’t still want it.
She let her head hang as she pressed her sleeves to her face, trying to sniffle the congestion away that all her crying had given her.
“I’m not… mad at you,” she started, trying to compose herself in front of him despite having just cried against his chest. “There’s a lot that’s happened. Damon, the Saters, your injury, trying to get off the Green, trying to keep you alive…” she sighed, doubting he understood the weight of last frustrating few cycles and how they’d weighed on her.
She looked up shyly, anticipating a more Damon-esque reaction to her outburst. “It’s been a lot and it caught up with me and I didn’t know what to do with it. I’m sorry,” she said, looking anywhere but his eyes.
Ezra gave her a hesitant, soft smile. “That’s alright, little bird, don’t you worry a thing about it. I’m afraid I can’t be mad at you for feeling such a way after all that has transpired.”
He was not Damon.
Damon would ridicule her for feeling anything that wasn’t related to Aurelac, the Green, or survival. He’d make her push through it, refusing any comfort or reassurance, leaving Cee to fight it all on her own. He didn’t let her enjoy things or have likes. She’d tried to talk about The Streamer Girl to him, and every time he’d managed to brush her off and pay more attention to his syrettes or sleeping. He was barely kind. She was barely a person to him anymore, let alone a daughter. An extra pair of hands just so he could get some points.
But Ezra. Ezra was kind. He was soft. He wore a smile that she hadn’t seen in a long time, especially not on her own father. He indulged her likes and even said he’d like to read Streamer Girl someday. He protected her every way he knew how while also missing a limb. He trusted her. Trusted her words and trusted her capabilities.
“Say, birdie, do you plan to write some of your thoughts into that notebook? You spend quite the time in there as is-“
She laughed wetly and punched his arm, “shut up, Ezra.”
He smiled, raising his only arm surrender. “Afraid I’m not critiquing your avocations. Simply an observation.” He paused, his lips forming a tight line. “Think it’d do you well to write them down, birdie.”
He was right. She did spend a lot with her notebook. Writing, mostly. Her own small stories. Retelling Streamer Girl word for word from reading it so many times. Small sketches of what she saw on the Green or out in the Black. The interior of the ship. Ezra.
She could add journaling to the list.
Cee nodded, her eyes still red and slightly puffy as she looked up at him. “Yeah, maybe so.”
They didn’t talk much more that night, the two of them settling comfortably into the silence. Well, silence for Ezra. It was only slightly uncomfortable to him, but with the light scratch of Cee’s pen against the paper and her humming and the tapping of her foot to the tune coming in through her headphones, he managed.
They were managing. A new person, for both of them. For Ezra, a child. For Cee, a guardian. New, unforeseen circumstances to work through. Both of them having someone to care about, to fight for. And the entirety of the Black out there to explore, and they’d be doing it together.
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Possessive!Gojo who makes you wear his jersey when you go to parties at his fraternity after games, openly admiring the way you dwarf inside his clothes. He leans forward on the edge of the bed to get a better look, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes raking over every inch of you from head to toe.
"Toru, it's too big," you pout, checking out your reflection in the floor-length mirror on his closet door. “I look silly.”
The tent growing in his sweats says otherwise—all the blood in his body rushing from one head to the other just from seeing two things that are his coexisting—and he gives you another once-over, thinking of several ways to describe you, silly not being one of them.
"You’re so pretty, baby.” He swears he’s a little drunk from the sight of you, but he means it.
Possessive!Gojo who pushes you up against the door inside the locker room before a game—slightly jealous from the guys looking at you as they filed out into the hall, and equally turned on because he knows they can’t have you—telling you he can't play with a hard-on before he's pressing into you from behind.
He can feel your tummy quivering under his hand where he holds you close, feels how his cock is carving its way inside of you, and you both moan when he presses down lightly. It makes him dizzy how tight and small you are; pulsing, wet, and swollen-soft velvet that gives every time he buries himself into you.
"You gonna hold all of my cum in this cute cunt until after the game, y-yeah?" he sucks the question into your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll lick it out of you afterward. Just keep it warm for me, ’kay?”
You answer him with a high-pitched whine as you clench down hard around him, cumming with a muffled scream against his palm and nearly pushing him out of your warm, fluttering heat.
Possessive!Gojo makes sure to stuff his cum back into your drooling cunt with two thick fingers, curling them into your front wall to pull another soft orgasm out of you—just a little more, ah, there you go, always so good for me—before he helps you fix your panties to trap it there.
His arms wrap around you before he presses a tender kiss to your temple. “Don’t forget to cheer for me.”
Possessive!Gojo whose smirk from watching you squirm in the stands, melts into a glare when a guy takes the empty seat beside you, sitting almost too close for his liking.
“Stop staring at your girlfriend and hit the fucking puck already,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning against his stick.
Possessive!Gojo who makes sure to fuck you in the backseat of his car afterward with the windows cracked in hopes that the guy from the stands would walk by to you moaning Gojo’s name, and he eats you out just like he promised—bending you over the center console, smiling to himself at how shy and squirmy you get—only to fill you up again.
Possessive!Gojo who pouts whenever Nanami manages to steal your attention with something sciency and nerdy (something entirely up your alley) whenever you come over on weeknights.
“That’s so neat, Nanami,” you smile, hearts practically in your eyes as you listen to him talk about his latest research. “Maybe I can stop by the lab and check it out sometime.”
Possessive!Gojo who doesn’t miss the way Nanami’s ears turn a shade of red from your praise—color high in his cheeks—how he gives a sheepish smile whenever you talk to him.
“Toru,” you say, finally bringing your soft, pretty gaze on him again. “Are you even studying?”
Yeah, he is, but something else entirely, he thinks as he watches how your shorts hug your ass while you walk around the house’s common room—and he’s not the only one staring.
Possessive!Gojo who slaps your thigh, making you jolt in his lap. "Did I tell you to stop, huh, baby?"
You shake your head, biting your lip and avoiding the pair of eyes watching both of you (intently) from across the room—especially you—a quiet observer as you slowly sink onto your boyfriend’s cock while Nanami thrusts his own into his fist.
"Ah, fuck—b-but–"
Your words break off into a choked moan when Gojo thrusts his hips up underneath you, pressed as deep inside as he can get, and when he looks down, he swears he can see the imprint of himself pressing against your stomach.
"Tell me what I said,” he says through gritted teeth as he starts bouncing you, the couch continuing its steady squeaking under your knees.
Possessive!Gojo who can tell that it's hard for you to concentrate with the way his cock moves inside you, and you’re unable to answer with anything other than babbling nonsense. He decides to take mercy on you and stops to grind you in his lap instead.
He kisses your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on. "I said, don't stop until you cum, and you’re going to let Nanami see how fucking pretty you look when you do."
The next sound out of your mouth is a squeal when he holds your inner thighs to keep you open as he thrusts up into you again and again—letting Nanami see what can never be his.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “So good for me. Go on, show him how my good girl takes cock.”
Possessive!Gojo who locks eyes with Nanami just as he’s about to cum, burying his groans of pleasure into your neck as white-hot sparks shudder up his spine and heat pools in his gut.
Mine, he tries to say, but Gojo thinks his frat brother gets it when Gojo’s the one cumming inside you and Nanami’s spilling all over his fist.
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