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atsadi-shenanigans · 3 months

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Feeding Alligators 35 - The Devil Wears Douchebag

Y'all meet a theater kid loser.

On AO3.

The Halsin guy is, once again, y’all’s best bet—no, Lae’zel, we don’t even know where the creche is and we do know where the goblins are and I promise if our dumb, istik brains get this wrong, we go there next.

Thank fuck for Gale and his teleports.

And your suspicions the night before were, in fact, entirely correct. Blood potion and dirt potion taste fucking horrific together. You futilely scrape your tongue with your nails in between gargling with tea (despite Gale’s wincing and “that was a perfectly good brew”). You’re so desperate, in fact, you try to gargle with wine.

Astarion laughs so hard when you choke that he almost rips open the seat of his pants as he keels over in hysterics.

Bastard.

But you can talk, your head feels calm and clear, and you’re not face-planting dead in the dirt.

“We cannot leave that devil to terrorize innocent people,” Wyll says as you swig the alcohol taste out with more tea (actually drinking it, this time, Gale).

He did agree to join y’all to get help taking that thing down. The brainworms fucked him up along with the others; man is down to a couple of spells a day. And the devil’s last known location was sort of in the vicinity of where y’all need to go anyway.

A demon hunt it is.

***

Y’all step through the swirling, swooshing purple portal into sunshine. Astarion isn’t the only one to sigh and turn their face up to bask in the warm, clean light. To a one, y’all’re coated in swamp muck and hag goo. There’s nobody on the road when y’all emerge, but you suspect anybody coming across you would give you a real, real wide berth.

The teleporter spits y’all out near the grove again. It’ll be several days’ walk to the goblin camp. But at least the crew knows this area well enough to find all the streams to camp next to.

Wyll chomps at the bit, though. His hero instincts can’t let y’all rest and clean up. So loathe as y’all are, y’all agree to set off now and make camp and wash your damn clothes later.

You ain’t that far from the grove when you notice the handholds carved into a cliff on your left. You saw similar marks when you went to visit a national park a few years back. Ancestral Puebloans used them to get up to their cliff cities down in New Mexico. You look up, and think you see the top of a structure up there. And more importantly, some kinda chest on that structure up there.

“I’ll be right back,” you say and unsling your pack. “Might be something useful.”

Lae’zel eyes the cliff and nods approvingly. Probably because this is exercise and while she left off going into the hag fight, she’ll be right back on your ass tonight, you reckon (your entire body is sore, but your pack seems a touch lighter than usual).

“I’ll go with you,” Wyll says. “We can scout the area from up there. Make sure there aren’t any goblin patrols.”

And then Astarion surprises all y’all. “I suppose I’ll go, too.” Catches all of you staring and rolls his eyes. “If someone died up there they might still have valuables.”

Of course. Mr. Sticky Fingers.

“Dibs on jewelry,” you say, because you haven’t forgotten that conversation and you can’t afford to back down on it.

He tilts his head, all amused, and Lae’zel makes a sort of low hiss in the back of her throat. Surprisingly, Shadowheart near mimics the sound. Then the two realize they agree on something and both appear pretty grossed out by the prospect.

The cliff ain’t one long wall, but a jumble of several shorter ones. Your boots are thin and flexible enough, and the angle just shallow enough you can scrabble up. Slower than both the boys—holy fuck, Astarion is fast at that but he frowns at his hands when you crawl up to join him on the first ledge.

Wyll, the gentleman, lets you go first in case you need a boost, but also scurries up beside you in case you need a hand at the top—which you do thanks to the whole “upper body strength deficiency” thing.

There is a structure at the top, alright. Real dilapidated, all wooden poles leaning haphazardly together. But there’s also a chest up there. Astarion volunteers himself. Shimmies right up, swipes the thing, and more slides than climbs down, the wood groaning and swaying alarmingly.

There’s no bodies, though. Just a moldy sack of some kind, and a spectacular view of the smashed open butthole ship.

“Damn,” you say, looking out. The debris field is huge, but the main shell of it seems to have landed close together. More like it dropped right outta the sky and cracked like an egg, less like an airplane shredding itself to pieces as it plowed across the landscape.

You wonder how the damn thing flew at all. No wings or rotors; probably wasn’t as fast as an actual airplane, since you doubt it had to generate lift like one. That lack of speed (and Not-Sasha) are probably what saved you from being roadkill.

“Quite the view, isn’t it?” Astarion says.

You hum. “I wonder if anybody else survived? Maybe fell out earlier, got saved by that dream douche.”

There’s a pause as you both wonder if that word translated correctly. Then Astarion moves past it. “If they did, they’re probably dead in a ditch somewhere by now.”

You give him a look.

“I’m just saying, we’ve been incredibly lucky. The wilderness doesn’t lack for monsters and bandits and cutthroats. Any one of us could have died at least twice by now had we found ourselves alone.”

“True,” Wyll comes in. He surveys the destruction below, and gives a slow shake of his head. “It almost makes you wonder if something else has a hand in all this.”

Astarion’s scoff is harsher than usual, his voice laced with heavy sarcasm. “You think gods saved us for some ‘higher purpose?’”

You could catch those air quotes blindfolded. You ain’t sure if he’s mocking the higher purpose, or gods in general (you try to hide the smile at either prospect). It is interesting, though, since gods are actually a physical thing, here.

“I’ve not seen the handiwork of many gods,” Wyll says. “But I have seen the influence of other things.”

“Ah! A well-traveled group, then!”

Y’all whirl, both men going for their blades.

Another guy stands behind y’all, dressed like a real fancy man, all ruffles and buttons and embroidery. You heard nothing from the other below to indicate y’all had company, and the man’s hands—held out as he dips into a theatric bow—are clean, his fingers well-manicured.

Fancy little fuck did not climb up here.

“Who’re you?” you say, dropping your customary swearing because this guy seems to have dropped clean out of the sky.

His eyes shift to you—

Oh. Fuck.

Those ain’t human eyes. That’s not a man. He’s man-shaped, but there’s something about the air around him, something that suggests an ill-fitted suit, like the atmosphere strains against the seams where he stands.

What the actual fuck is that thing?

“Such ferocity from one so defenseless,” he says, his voice pitched so low it goes gravelly.

Your lips hurt. They’re pulled back over your teeth in an animal snarl, you realize. Every hair on your body stands on end. Something about that thing ain’t right, ain’t natural, shouldn’t fucking be here.

“Who are you?” Wyll says as your monkey brain scrambles for human words.

The thing ignores him. Scopes the area with a disdainful air. “My, my, what manner of place is this? A path to redemption? Or a road to damnation? Hard to say, for your journey is just beginning.”

You immediately want to smash his teeth out. Not just because of the gibbering alarm shrieking in your skull; his entire vibe oozes pretension.

Which gets worse when he again, theatrically—still pretending y’all ain’t standing there, waiting for an answer—taps his lips with one finger. “What would suit the occasion? The words to a lullaby, perhaps?”

And then he launches into some goddamn poem. You don’t pay much attention—something about a cat. The talking pisses you off. Bitch drops out of nowhere and fucking monologues at you and you want to crawl out of your own skin. He rambles on and on until, finally, says his name: Raphael.

There’s no magic translation of his name. It really is “Raphael.”

Which is a Hebrew name.

It is an angel’s name.

You don’t think this thing is an angel what the fuck.

Your companions both look to you, for some reason, and when you still don’t speak (please be wrong, please be wrong, please your mother cannot be right about this), Wyll ventures a, “Are you the cat or the mouse?”

And hoo boy. Does this (demon demon demon) man look fucking ecstatic with somebody playing along.

Your mother and the others loved talked about the devil. Loved. Demons and evil and witches and sin. Couldn’t somebody spit out more than three sentences without bringing one of them into it, up to and including passing the salt at breakfast.

You left all that behind. Slowly, deliberately. Like pealing leeches—fat and gorged and pulsing with your own, stolen blood—from your body. Each belief, each phrase, each word carefully (or extremely rushed in a fit of anger) pulled out, mouths chomping and bloodied. Each one dropped into the dirt and left behind to rot.

Now you’re here, with wizards and vampires and a literal fucking soul trying to fly off into space, and you look at this monologuing motherfucker, and something long dead stirs within you.

(demon demon demon)

You been palling around with killers and monsters. But now, in front of this creature, you feel the first brush of evil.

Raphael lifts his fingers. He’s been talking; you were too busy keeping your limbs still, knees locked, keeping yourself upright. Now he snaps, and the world shifts—

You’re in some ugly fucking dining room. Everything in red and gold and black, like a migraine made visual. Fireplaces big enough to stuff a fucking buffalo into. Paintings of demons (yep, those’re demons) on the walls. It’s all opulent and gauche in a nauseating way.

Voices startle behind you. The rest of the crew, clutching their weapons, eyes wide, teeth bared in Lae’zel’s case and huh, she’s an alien entity to these people and the two of you seem to have the same reaction to that thing.

Beyond them, you spot another painting. A red demon, big, bat wings spread wide, dressed in frilly, foppish finery. Skull in one hand. Same, smug face as the creature standing in the room with you.

Motherfucker.

“What’s going on?” Gale says. “Who…?”

“Welcome, welcome to the House of Hope,” Raphael says. Gestures to the huge table piled three tiers high with food. It even smells good. You been living off stews, sausage, and cheese for a week. That pie looks so flaky and tender, your mouth actually waters. “Please, help yourselves. Enjoy supper. It might be your last.”

“Don’t touch the food,” you say. So many stories about abductions and food. Fairies, Greek gods, and that one Guillermo del Toro movie with the pale man.

This, unfortunately, draws the attention of the sonuvabitch back to you. Jesus lord, his face is so sleazy. He cocks his head. Studies you.

“Yes, you’re an interesting case, aren’t you?” he says. His voice dips even lower, going ragged in his throat like he’s trying too hard. “Not from around here. You notice it, don’t you? You and the gith, both.”

“Notice what?” Wyll says.

“That creature cloaks its appearance,” Lae’zel says. Much better wording than your own, mental his skin is fucking fake!

“Indeed,” Raphael says. He tosses an arm into the air as if to present a stage line. Only hot wind buffets out from him, stinking of ozone and sulfur. And when you blink through watering eyes, there stands the red motherfucking demon from the painting.

Wyll tenses beside you. Astarion has gone utterly still, not even pretending to breathe.

Raphael smirks. Says, “What’s better than the devil you don’t know? The one that you do.”

“No,” you say.

You don’t mean to say it. You have every intention of staying still and quiet, like Astarion. Of fading into the background and hoping the bad thing doesn’t notice you until y’all can get the fuck outta here.

But this is all too much, and you’re flat out panicking and (demon demon demon the devil will steal your soul). It just sort of slips outta you.

Raphael frowns, mildly. Cranks up the sleaze. “I’m afraid I haven’t even—”

“No thank you we’d like to go now—” You clap both hands over your mouth. Resist the urge to walk over to the nearest wall and lobotomize yourself through sheer blunt force trauma.

At least a few self-preservation instincts manage to reach in and make sure it comes out sorta polite?

The next frown is not mild. “Ill manners make an ill guest. On this plane and in all others.”

You’re done talking. You’re done moving. You can feel the sweat beading in your armpits and along the edge of your scalp.

Raphael’s creepy demon eyes hold your gaze a moment longer. When you sensibly keep your lips shut, he resumes his monologue. You all but sag against Astarion when the demon shifts to address the others.

Something something brainworms. Something something he’s your savior (you’ve had quite enough of those to last a lifetime). Something something grandiose pretension.

“I could fix it all like that.” Raphael snaps his fingers. Flames burst up from his hand.

Neat party trick, you think and absolutely do not say.

He wants y’all to ask for help. Says y’all won’t find any with Halsin or Lae’zel’s people. He says all that in the nastiest, most arrogant way possible, and your companions look at each other, unsure. One of them is gonna say something stupid, ask for more information, actually consider what this fuck is saying.

“I thank you for your hospitality,” you say. Your voice only shakes a little. You’re almost proud of that. “But I have to insist we leave.”

Maybe it’s the extra courtesy in your phrasing. Or maybe he’s too wrapped up in the sound of his own speech. He sweeps right into his next schtick of “blah blah denying reality, blah bah change your mind, you’re so weak, you’ll come crawling back, blah blah.”

Wyll is damn near trembling to one side. There’s a look in his eye part contained anger, part fear.

“You’ve been lucky so far,” Raphael wraps up. “And I’ll be there when that luck runs out.”

He snaps his fingers.

You’re once again on a cliff, under a blue sky smelling of pine and distant water and the slightest tinge of burning slugs and rubber.

None of the others gives you crap as your legs give out.

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #bg3 fic #astarion fic #tavstarion #astarion x tav #isekai #plus size tav #demisexual tav #slow burn #like reallllllly slow #they're both dumb

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kayla-crazy-stuffs · 1 year

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If you want a prompt, how about something like safe unaware/accidental noms? Where both pred and prey were unwilling but maybe the pred doesn't even notice? (Or the pred does know but does it on accident while prey is panicking and misunderstanding, but personally that's my second) I just reallllllly like this trope and reallllly wanna read more of it...please?

Wooooo here I gooo!!! :D

Two friends, a giant mer and a human sized naga, there's nothing wrong right? Until your small friend turn out to be too curious... :]

@da3dm :]

TW: Safe/soft/unaware vore, unwilling pred, unwilling prey, digestion mention (kinda; doesn't happen tho)

A sunny day, there was a light breeze in the air and the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, made it a perfect day to rest lying on the sand, under the rays of the sun.

The giant mer was lying on his back on the beach, the vast majority of his tail out of the water, only occasionally getting wet when 'little' waves crashed against it.

His calm and slow breathing showed that the mer was asleep, his mouth slightly open, one of his arms resting on the sand while the other was resting comfortably on his abdomen.

His naga friend was coiled on his own coils watching the green mer rest. His golden tail uncurled a bit as he stretched out. The naga gazed at his friend as he rested, his pale blue eyes widening as he had an idea.

He slid slowly toward the mer's sleeping body, climbing up the arm that lay on the sand to easily climb up to the mer's chest.

Once he was there, he looked up, beginning to climb over Dream's face. He curiously looked at the slightly open mouth of the mer, which was a dark shade of green while his tongue was a light green. He had never noticed it until now.

However, his curiosity didn't last long though as Dream yawned in his sleep, causing Punz to fall straight into his mouth and because of being lying on his back caused him to quickly head for his throat. “D-Dream!!!” It only took a fragment of a second for his head to be swallowed and get into the throat.

The mer choked for a moment before continuing to swallow the naga unconsciously. His hair was plastered against his eyes from the saliva in his throat, and he couldn't push it away as his arms were pressed against his sides.

Punz writhed as he continued down, feeling the end of his tail finally enter the mer's throat.

It wasn't long before the top half of him was ushered into a more open space, the rest of his body following within a few seconds.

He moved toward the walls of his stomach, desperately trying to get his friend's attention. “Dream!!?? Can you hear me!? Get me out of here please!" he yelled at him as he pushed and hit the soft walls.

The sudden movement in his stomach woke Dream up, who yawned in confusion hearing his friend, but unable to see where he was. “Punz..?” He looked around, still unable to see the golden naga.

The movements in his stomach increased and Dream placed a hand on it, feeling the small movements. "Dream! I'm in your stomach! You swallowed me while you were sleeping! Get me out of here please!!!” Hearing this, Dream's eyes widened, beginning to panic as well.

How was it possible that he had eaten his own friend?

He desperately tried to throw him up, he tried many ways but couldn't push Punz up which made him more nervous and made him panic even more.

It always worked for him with some kind of food he didn't like, why did it not work this time? The mer let out an anguished sob as he covered his face with his hands. He didn't want to kill Punz...

A few minutes passed before he felt the naga press against the front of his stomach. "Uh...Dream?" "Yeah!? Are you alright?!" he asked with urgency painted in his voice. "Uh...Yeah...For some reason I'm fine...Dream?"

The mer calmed down for a moment before speaking to his friend. "Tell me..." "You won't have a brood pouch for some reason, right?" he asked curiously. "Uh.. I don't know.. I never thought about that…"

Punz released a relieved sigh, apparently he already knew where he was. His friend hadn't been raised by other mers so he obviously didn't know he had a brood pouch and the reason Punz wasn't turning to mush was because he was surely inside of it.

"Then there's nothing to worry about... Apparently you've always had a brood pouch and having unconsciously swallowed me, your body has noticed that you didn't want to swallow me voluntarily, also not knowing what you were swallowing and put me here. So, for At least we know that I'm going to be fine, and now I'll have to wait for you to know how to get me out of here…" the naga explained calmly.

The mer hummed understanding what his friend was telling him. "But how did I swallow you? I thought you were resting on the sand..." The naga blushed slightly in embarrassment.

"Your mouth just made me curious and when you yawned I fell into it…" Dream let out a small sigh. "Be more careful next time... What a scare we've had…"

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #mcyt vore #dsmp vore #safe vore #soft vore #unwilling vore #unwilling prey #unwilling pred #giant!dream #tiny!punz #mer!dream #naga!punz #kayla answers #ask #anon

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omoriaskspace · 3 months

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《 The world is surrounded by dreamlike minty hues, the sky an endless galaxy of stars shining above as the world seems to spin ever so slowly. 》

Have you figured it out yet?

This is starting to get reallllllly boring...I thought you said that the internet was supposed to be fun and limitless?!

Wait! Look!

《 As if on cue, the laptop turns on with a small chime, opening to a home page of an open field with nothing but a blue expanse above. How strange. 》

Thats weird...

There are so many buttons though!! Which one should we press first??? Wait- Aha..slow down, we dont even know what this thing is supposed to do yet.. I mean, it looks pretty simple! Whats the worst that could happen?

《 What would you like to click first? 》

☞ Internet Browser !!! Photos Solitaire Email

《 Omori carefully hovers the mouse over the internet browser, and gives it a hesitant click. Uncertain if it would actually work in this place. Whitespace seemed to have internet, somehow despite its emptiness. Maybe the Vast Forest would have some as well? Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. 》

《 As he clicks it, it opens a new window, and the first tab it opens on is a place called Tumblr...strange. Everyone seems to look at the computer with awe, seemingly dumbfounded by this new revelation. 》

Look at all of this...stuff.

There are so many people!! Look at all of these pictures and such!

Ooooh!! I wanna try!!

Wait, is it safe for us to be doing this?

I don't see why not! as long as we're careful.

How do we make an uhh...account?

It seems pretty simple! Ya just uh...wabam!

《 Without warning, Kel pushes Omori aside and proceeds to steal the mouse away from the other boy, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he continues to click everywhere, with a certain goal in mind that he isnt quite sure how to reach. Omori seems a bit miffed. 》

Kel!! Kel you shouldnt just shove people like that! Thats really rude! He was taking too long!

《 In the midst of their distraction, Omori carefully nudges his way back into his spot quietly, taking control of the situation and making an account for them all, albeit a bit hesitantly. Would this effect the world around them? Technically this wasnt supposed to be happening to begin with. 》

All of you quiet down, Omori has it all figured out!

《 The gang turns to look, their eyes wide with curiosity as they crowd around the laptop, leaving Omori to sit in the middle of it. 》

Woah!! Cool! What should we do with it? We should post pretty pictures on it too! What? Thats all you can come up with? I dont see you coming up with anything better!! Guys..look, theres a little inbox thing where people can ask you...questions i think? Or just send you stuff. Interesting... See?? That sounds way more fun than just posting silly photos! Kel...

Hgk, sorry.

What if we did both?? We could answer questions and send pretty photos!

《 The gang considers this for a moment. 》

I suppose i dont see why not, lets be careful what we post though! Even if it looks fun, it could still be dangerous. Alright!! Oooh this is gonna be so exciting!

I call dibs on decorating it!

What!? No fair!!

《 So the gang sets out to work, adding little bits and pieces to their new shared blog to make it theirs until it was eventually finished, with everyone feeling proud of their work as they stared at it with equal excitement. 》

And now...we wait.

(( ASKS ARE NOW OPEN, FEEL FREE TO SEND WHATEVER YOU'D LIKE. ))

#omori #omori askblog #omori fandom #omori sunny #omori game #omori basil #omori mari #omori aubrey #omori omori #omori kel #omori hero #omori headspace #basil omori #askblog #open asks

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champagneandparacosm-archive · 2 years

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❛ say you want me, and i’m yours. ❜ carmy would be HUGE on vocalizing in the bedroom (or the kitchen, the walk in cooler, the office, the dining room)

OHHHHH for suuuuuuure!!

He starts out reallllllly slow. Teasing to you, barely giving you anything worth something

Faint touches, or groping your ass, pulling you against him and grinding into your hips. “Fuck, honey, you looked so good today.” (As you wear the same thing you always do…)

He has you backed against the walk-in door, having not yet made it anywhere in particular, simply needing his lips on yours and your bodies pressed together after everyone left for the night.

You squeak, hand at his neck, the other trying to tug at his pants but he’s making it really hard as he grinds against you.

“What’s that, baby?” He asks, condescending with a smug smirk, tatted hand groping your chest under your shirt.

“Carmy,” It’s a low whine, needy and obvious. But he doesn’t accept that.

“What? What do you want, hm? Tell me what you want me to? Say you want me, and I’m yours….” His lips attaching to your neck, thumb flicking over the bud of nipple he’s expertly slipped into your bra.

“Carmy, fuck… Please, I want you. I want you! I want you to fuck me. I want- I want you to destroy me, please.”

After a stressful day… Isn’t that all we want?

He looked sinfully delicious in his apron today, sweaty and flustered, barking orders and up in your fucking face, telling you to hurry on the prep. You were only one person! It takes fucking time and he’s an inpatient little bitch.

You can never stay mad at him, especially since he’s making quick work now to remove your pants, lifting you so effortlessly into his arms and stuffing his dick inside of you.

The stretch is excruciatingly amazing, coaxing your gasp every time.

Your moans are like music to his ears, keeping his instrument playing so you continue your chorus in his ear, raking your nails into his hair and down his neck.

He loves when you play with his hair, tugs on it and whines like the “needy slut you are for his cock”

“So good. Yeah, baby, make a mess on my dick… Love how you squeeze around me like that, fuck.”

His voice when he gets closer to his orgasm is…. ughhhh. All husky and breathless, his hot breath against your lips or ear, pounding relentlessly into her cunt, burying himself so well into you like you were made just for him. He’s sure to tell you so as well.

“I love how you feel around me. Fuck, just like that. Cum for me, honey. Nice and tight, good…. Jesus, that’s good.”

When you cum, he’s only seconds away from his own, spilling inside of you. (You went on birth control IMMEDIATELY after meeting him… Chef likes to clean you up after busting inside of you…)

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto blurb #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #sydney #carmy: the bear #asks: carmy: the bear #carmy berzatto imagine

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dasozelotvonnebenan · 2 years

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Thinking about the treestump Teku Nuhoch is built into and the hollow fallen tree next to noble ledges or "THE GIANT TREE" in Tangled Depths and how there are a bunch of absolutely massive trees that have all fallen ages ago.

I like to think those are the remains of Mordy's trees from the previous time he awoke. That would mean they're reallllllly slow at rotting but also they're giant fucking trees so I'm willing to accept that they operate under special rules.

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yung-goos · 2 years

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cyberpoonk anime thoots!! I guess

See, if the pacing wasn't so insanely sped up, I may have more to say. Considering the source material Its clear they had to shove so much into every second they could. Like this is the first show I've had to pause every 10 seconds so I could digest what was happening. It was annoying. But besides that, if this was a full fleshed out series with seasons and such, I could potentially see it be the next big great series people adore and talk about. What realllly sold me was how interesting every character was. I mean EVERY character. Which I can't say often. The way David and Maine went out pissed me off, esp. considering they both had a chance to turn back and slow down before it was too late. I'm not a fan of irrational characters, but despite that, their deaths did move me, so kudos on the writers there. I think what reallllllly brought it all home was seeing how devastated Lucy looked when she finally reached the moon. Realizing her dream wasn't to go to the moon, but to go to the moon with David. How your dreams don't mean a thing when you don't have the people you care about around. How much TRAUMA these niggas had to go through, not to even survive, but to find some kind of meaning in all of it. This show is realllllllly fucking depressing when you peel back the layers. Just really wish they had more time with it. Overall I give this lil 5 hour sit down a solid ole [DECENT]

oh and why do my girl Rebecca like that.... like omg....you kept FALCO alive but not her like don't piss me off....

#cyberpunk #edgerunners #like the more I sit with it #the more it hurts #GOD #also the MUSIC #GOD AWFUL #GOD PLEASE TURN IT OFF

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paddingtonicon · 5 years

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It’s so weird being manic because it’s like your brain went so slow for so long being depressed and then one day was like hmmmmm we need to catch up on being alive let’s do 3 years worth in 2 days

#im so ....tired #ive slept 6 hours in like 3 days #i only slow down when i smoke #or when everything is reallllllly quiet #im gonna have a breakdown soon #and crash #but im trying not to #personal #mania #manic #manic depressive #bipolar #mental illness #tw mental illness #rant #depression #im so sorry i dont know why i tag things #its embarassing #anyways i hate myself lol

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foyernormanchapel · 6 years

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Someday when we get around to writing a genealogy of our failures, inadequacies, and disappointments, an important place in such a study will be the books we never read, for whatever reason. Aside from the music we never listened to, the movies we never watched, or the old archives and maps we never explored, the books we never read will be one of the indicators of our anachronisms and our flawed humanity.

Boris Gunjevic, “Every book is like a fortress—flesh became word” in God in Pain

#im reallllllly torn about this #on the one hand books i should read continue to pile up #like the magnitude of my ignorance compounds day by day and im tormented by the thought that i'll never catch up #on the other hand the world is changing so fast and so drastically so like... what's the point #why am i reading all this stuff like im not even good at it in fact i am very slow and stupid #shouldn't i go learn something else something actually practical and forward looking #like a real skill #or am i too late #or too stupid to even do that (this is very likely)#i am very scared of the prospect of rotting as a stupid visionless useless humanities major who was good for nothing

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atsadi-shenanigans · 3 months

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Feeding Alligators 36 - Glee

On the properties of blood rejuvenation and the history of the world (i guess).

On AO3.

“A devil? Astarion’s voice is sharp and just this side of a whine. “Now we’ve got a devil after us?”

Voices from below. Gale and Shadowheart and Lae’zel. Y’all should probably regroup. You try to focus as you climb back down (easier, as you’re laying on your belly, but also harder, as you’re already shaking and shivering).

The rest of the crew look between worried and grim. Lae’zel has relaxed back into her “breathe on me and die” stance. Only you seem to still be having a physical reaction. Possible because you’re the only one suddenly dumped ass over tea kettle into an unasked for crisis of (un)faith.

The others debate about it. Or discuss it, since nobody seems to be outright in favor. Wyll is dead set against the entire concept. But it’s Astarion that draws your eye. He wants to use the parasites, you’d gathered from snippets over the last day and a half. He’d said so to the others after the whole dream intruder episode. Man seems pretty down for snatching any form of power (or supplies) he can get his hands on.

But when you look at him, he wears a dark look.

“He’s playing with us,” Astarion says when you ask. “He reminds me of…well. Creatures like them don’t play games unless they know they can win.”

That fuckface hunting him.

“I don’t want any kinda deal with a devil,” you say. “We got stories about that where I come from, and they all end bad.”

Which piques Gale’s interest. You really should take an evening and let the man go whole hog on your stories. He’s been so helpful and curious. Might be a good idea to get a wizard on your side anyway. Short of finding some butthole ship flight recorder, he might be your best shot and getting home again.

All your troubles are starting to run together. Problems gained, nothing solved. You’re not even sure you’re remembering everything outside of “Wyll’s demon” and “Halsin with goblins.” Seems like there’s more you should be remembering.

This line of thinking usually means y’all should set up camp. You ain’t gonna get any less crotchety. Maybe if you offer Gale a Q and A session you can get another vote in “we should stop for tonight.”

***

Gale is only too happy to swing the vote. To be fair, Wyll don’t even protest. Whole devil thing really rattled everybody. Y’all find a stream, start setting up tents, and Astarion is the first one to march over with an arm of clothing.

You still ain’t done nothing with that scrap of linen he gave. You don’t know how to sew, and you don’t have the supplies. You been pondering scavenging another belt and just rigging you up a goddamn loincloth. You suspect it’d look weird and bulky underneath your trousers, though. But maybe you should, just to get used to it. You been here a week or so; it’s maybe another week until the cramps kick in and you start bleeding. You read enough history to know a loincloth is your best bet for dealing with that (you’re gonna have to keep an eye out for more rags or shirts that ain’t all mildewy).

Thoughts of drawers aside, Gale is ecstatic to sit you down and pick your brain. He hands you a scroll and a quill and an inkpot (“For your own keeping. One never knows when one might need to take notes”). He talks to you until most of the others have retired for the night. Talks to you as Astarion finishes his first watch (he sends you both a weird look), and only seems to notice when Shadowheart emerges from her tent to take second shift.

“Oh, goodness, I’ve completely lost track of time!” he says, scribbling furiously.

He’d started with what you remember of Mesopotamia—quickly sidetracked into prehistory and the entire theory of evolution, and then veered into parallel world speculations you didn’t quite follow. He taps his lips with the tip of his quill. They’re not, you notice, full feathers like in the movies. He actually cuts them much shorter, leaves only a tuft of feather on the far end. You wonder about that, until you realize the trim brings the thing down to about pen length. Huh.

“But if that theory is correct, your people would have had to be on Ay-arth for a significant amount of time. Far beyond even the creation of Toril.”

“Toril?”

He looks up. Blinks. And that’s how you learn Faerun is the name of the continent. The planet is Toril. Neat.

You leave him still muttering. He kind of waves, murmurs a “Thank you, Eleanor. Rest well.” And then he shuffles towards his tent, still reading his notes, quill still tapping his lips and you don’t have the heart to tell him he’s got ink on his fingers.

Shadowheart nods as you approach. “Late night?”

You groan. “I barely even got started. He wants to know everything I do and I been learning for years.”

She hums. Glances to the wizard settling in at a reading desk he probably pulled out of his magic bag. You don’t think he’s going to sleep at all, tonight.

“So you’re a scholar, then?” she says.

“More of a hobby,” you say. “My people got access to a lot of information real casually. I don’t got the brain juice to explain right now, sorry. Though, could I ask you a question?”

Her face is cool in the orange glow of firelight. “That depends on the question.”

You know very little of her, aside from hating Lae’zel, and she’s got jesus hands. Also that she’s got mean girl tendencies.

“That potion and your magic, the healing? Does it speed up, um, blood production? Not the fluids but, like, the bits it carries?”

She holds up a hand. “I’m aware of how blood works and its components; I’ve seen enough of it. And yes, a healing potion or my spells encourage the body to heal any recent injuries; so more than just replacing the water in the blood. Why?”

There’s…a suspicious fucking edge to the last word, there. Ain’t no time to be subtle.

“Feeding the vampire,” you say and fuck it, being honest with doctors makes their job easier, right?

Her suspicion turns scathing. It takes all you got not to squirm.

“Really?” she says.

“It helps him fight,” you say.

“So would a feather bed, yet we’ve all been managing fine without.”

But she didn’t feel the monstrous hunger ripping through her innards. Not more than the barest flash Astarion had let slip during his impromptu group chat.

You been hungry before. It was one of Mother’s favorite lessons, hungering for the grace of the lord. His salvation made physical through the hands of the shepherd he sent to guide the unworthy. Deliverance could only follow punishment, though. As your unclean thoughts or actions separated you from the light and bounty of the lord, so did your physical body have to experience that loss. Plus it left no marks for any outsiders to see and be concerned over.

(raspberry and artificial lemon and the stink of dirt)

(No, there’s no root cellar here.)

It’s an awful feeling. And if your body is fine (and soul firmly tied down) you don’t want to let that carry on. Not if you can do something.

Nobody came to help you. Not for a long, long time. Not until Sasha.

You can do your best to be a Sasha, too.

“Is it gonna hurt me in the long run?” you say.

Shadowheart’s voice is as flat as her expression. “No more than letting a vampire at your throat usually is. Are you sure he didn’t dominate you?”

That word again. It’s enough to break through the nasty turn your thoughts were taking. You wonder if that’s a sex thing in Faerunese, as well in English.

“I am of sound mind, making choices of my own volition,” you say. “I used to do this back home pretty regular. Not with vampires, though; we don’t got them. Donating blood helps people with medical emergencies. And my dad’s side…helping your people is a cultural thing. You go to any of my relatives and you barely get a ‘hi’ outta you before somebody’s asking if you’re hungry and they got food in the kitchen, help yourself. It’s real…people-oriented. Helping each other. Or it is when people are trying to do right, anyway.”

Gale still mutters over his desk. There’s ink stains in his beard, now. You wince, but you’ve committed, and you ain’t gonna out yourself at this point. Let him think nobody noticed and salvage his pride.

“That sounds like a people that can be taken advantage of,” Shadowheart says.

That hits. It’s a subject you get stuck on, too. Maybe if the first people the Spanish and then the English had found had been less generous and more murder-happy, y’all wouldn’t have been decimated by disease and then force-marched off all y’all’s land.

Or maybe your ancestors still would have lost, eventually, and without that caring, y’all would have torn yourselves apart during the chaos that followed. Maybe y’all wouldn’t still be here.

“I helped you on that ship,” you say.

Her frown is a sharp, vicious thing. A razor embedded in a ball of ice. “I believe I’ve already repaid that debt a few times over.”

You hold up your hands. “More than that. I’m not trying to hold that over your head. You’uns are the only reason I’m still alive, so thank you. I’m just saying, people survive better when they work together. I ain’t gonna ask any of you to let him chomp down, I just wanna know if it’s safe for me to volunteer. If it ain’t, I won’t.”

She stares silently for a long moment. So long, you’re sure she’s gonna walk off without giving you an answer.

Only she sighs. Puts her hands on her hips and glares at Astarion’s red tent. “You should be able to manage every three or four days, given you have a potion or someone to cast a lesser restoration spell.”

You look at her. She looks at you.

She throws her hands up. “Alright, fine. Find me in the morning after I’ve had my breakfast. But if he drains you dry, you’d best let everyone else know not to come to me to revivify you.”

The too-tight muscles at the base of your skull relax a tick. There’s one thing off the problems list. Or, well, piled onto your plate. Still, you’re gonna count that as a win because fuck it.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Don’t thank me for this. Ugh. And keep you…feedings to yourselves. I doubt anyone else in camp wants to see that.”

You give her a two-fingered salute and let her begin her patrol.

Finally, you can sleep. Deal with all this tomorrow (when maybe y’all find a demon woman to kill). You’re trudging by the time you make it to your tent—next to Astarion’s; somehow, that’s become the official set up. You hadn’t really noticed before, but they did it even when you died passed out, didn’t they?

“Well?” His voice is smooth and low in the dark. You valiantly try to catch yourself when the startle tangles your feet and you end up plowing into your own tent. The poles creak as the whole things sags under you.

His laughter is high and light. Exactly what you think some fancy boy at a rich bitch party would sound like if the staff dropped a tray of teeny, tiny little pickled fish eggs or roasted peacock asshole or whatever those dipshits eat.

“Fuck you, too,” you say on instinct.

On bad instinct.

“Feeling rather forward this evening are we, darling?” Astarion says. The dick. He’s not actually inside his tent; has plonked himself down all criss-cross applesauce right outside the flap. He sits completely unmoving, the only giveaway the shift in eerie eyeshine as he tilts his head back to regard you.

“Ain’t you just a creeper,” you say.

“A what?” He sounds more amused than insulted.

“Creeper. Some guy lurking all creepy in the fucking dark.”

He ponders that a moment. Then lets out his high, little “ah-ha!” giggle. The firelight catches that predator’s eyeshine again. “Vampire, darling. It rather comes with the territory.”

“I guess.” He’s got a point, goddamnit. “You eavesdropping again?”

“Of course. Especially once I caught that juicy little conversation with our dear cleric.”

You’re so tired. You sway on your feet. Sitting down sounds great, and it’s the polite thing to do, but you know the second your butt touches the dirt, you ain’t getting back up.

“Tomorrow night,” you say. “I’m way too beat right now. But you can feed tomorrow.”

“Oh ~darling~” the man fucking purrs. “I was so hoping you’d say that. I’ll come to you then, when you’re snugly wrapped in your bedroll, and we can have a little privacy. And this time, I’ll make sure I’m quiet. We don’t want to disturb your rest. Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Um.

“Um,” you say. Scratch the back of your head. “I think I’d prefer you don’t come in while I’m asleep?”

So of course he plays right onto that, because he’s a horrible person. The firelight catches his face as it pulls down into a leer. “Prefer to feel my lips on your skin again?”

He can see in the dark better than you, you gathered. Hopefully not enough to catch the wash of heat over your cheeks.

His tongue on your neck. It’s the most intimate you ever been with somebody.

“A strange man slipping in and biting my while I’m asleep, hmm. You do know that’s exactly what I meant when I called you a creeper, right?”

“We’re hardly strangers at this point.”

“I’ve known you a week.”

He seems on the verge of firing something back. Reconsiders. His smile, when it comes, is a touch too composed. “As you like. You’ll wait for me, then? After the others have gone to rest?”

Making it sound like a damn hookup.

You’re honestly too tired to keep up with this pointy-eared dork. “Sure, sure. I’ll wait up for you. Do me a favor, though, and if I do fall asleep, wake me up?”

The reflected glow of his eyes dips as he places a hand over his chest and gives you a seated bow. Maybe it’s your own tired, or maybe (just a little), the teasing is (kinda) fun. But you dip into a fancy bow back. You been itching to do that.

Which lights up his whole face in delight.

“Night,” you say before he can kick off another round of being weird, and you duck into your still-sagging tent.

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #bg3 fic #astarion fic #tavstarion #astarion x tav #plus size tav #demisexual tav #slow burn #like reallllllly slow #isekai #i'm not sorry #bg3 #they're both idiots

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woahitslucyylu · 4 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Rio.

GIF is not mine, credit to OG creator.

He felt left out, so I made him one too! Everyone’s favorite money launderer is here with allllll his dirty secrets. Enjoy, frands!

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NSFW Alphabet A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Rio lives to take care of you. You hold him down and after sex, he’s just as gentle and compassionate. He will wrap you in his arms and remind you all the reasons that his success is yours too. A warm shower and a cold drink await you after most sessions complete with take out from your favorite restaurant.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Rio loves his lips/smile. He knows a simple smirk can make you melt into a puddle. He isn’t above using it to manipulate you in the best ways. A slow lick of the lips, a smug smile, or a soft kiss can buy him a few hours if he has fallen out of your good graces.

He loves your hips and ass. Your curvy frame fits so perfectly with his slender muscular self. He loves to feel you soft against him in bed as he runs his hands over your curves - leaving your skin electrified under his touch. He loves the dip from your back to the top of your ass, the perfect place for his hands in all situations.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Inside or in your mouth - he finds your willingness to accept him in the most intimate ways erotic.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Rio loves to make movies. His favorite angle is when you’re on the bed, back arched, and ass pressed against him and he makes you fuck yourself as he watches himself disappear inside you.

“Keep going, mama. I didn’t say stop.” The erotic sound of skin against skin filled the room as you rolled your hips against him, moans slipping through your mouth. “You’re such a good girl. Look at how you take me.” Your praise kink is on overdrive as you come apart beneath him - another Oscar worthy performance.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

His list isn't long, but he knows what he is doing. Always the gentleman, you come first, second, and third - he will leave your body sore and sleepy with his expert skills.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Rio loves you from behind - he loves watching your ass bounce as he pushes into the mattress. He lives for you on top too. When you just can’t wait any longer, and you take control. He lays back willingly, puts his hand behind his head, and watches you sink onto him - the stretch makes you bite your lip and lean forward. He will pull you close - holding your throat with ever so much pressure and thrust into you - leaving you panting and begging.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sarcasm, mild degradation, and dry humor are Rio’s calling cards and they don’t disappear in the bedroom. He will make you drip with his words, and chastise you for being so needy. As you grind against his jean-covered thigh, begging for more, he will reprimand you for making a mess - heat running through your body as he slides his fingers over you, feeling just how wet you really are.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Appearances are important, so he leaves nothing to be desired. He’s neat.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Rio spends his days playing a role and with you, the doors open and his real self tumbles out. He presses his forehead to yours and whispers sweet nothings as you greet him from his work day. He is content to watch you play Iron Chef in the kitchen as you talk about your days together. He finds the most comfort in breaking down the walls and letting you - physically and emotionally.

J = Jack/Jill Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Rio may rub one out, because work has kept him away from you. The movies you create make it easy to remember how good you feel.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Needy, begging - Rio gets off on knowing you need him. It’s borderline codependent shit, but he loves it. When you pout around the house, your shirt tight and in just your panties, huffing and puffing while you wait for him to finish working is one of his favorite things. He knows you’re a brat, and he indulges in your tantrums, edging you until you slide into his lap, palming him through his pants and whisper how much you want him in your ear.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Rio moves in the shadows, so it only makes sense that he fucks in them too. Late nights at the warehouse have you laid across the table as he fucks you - erotic noises echoing through the empty room or you slide into the backseat of the wagon, sinking onto him as Mick waits dutifully outside as you chase your release.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Rio lives to provide for you, so being able to fulfill every request - sexual or otherwise - is his motivation. When the bills are paid, you have more than enough money in your account, and you can’t walk from countless orgasms, that’s when he feels most successful. When you came into his life, success suddenly meant something different and taking care of you in every aspect is his reason.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Rio is illusive, so threesomes are out of the question. He is invisible, and you’re really the only woman he needs.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

You’re a brat and Rio tames you on your knees as he fucks your throat relentlessly. He gazes at you through half-hooded eyes, watching you gag as you open your mouth wider for him. “Mama, just like that.” His hands thread through your hair, pulling the strands so rough that you moan against him - sending shivers through his body. “See, you can listen, can’t you?”

On the flip side, Rio loves to eat you. He enjoys the feel of your full thighs around his face as you rock back and forth. You were so apprehensive at first, but he reassured you, “Darlin’, if I die underneath you, it will be the happiest moment of my life.” The feeling of power, yet subtle submissiveness in the act of you riding his face is a powerful aphrodisiac.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

When he’s punishing you, he holds nothing back. You will feel every inch of him as he pushes you into the mattress or pulls you against him. Your skin will be marked and bruised, your ass sore from spanking - he will remind you he’s the boss. Yet, he has such gentleness when he’s reallllllly making love to you. His hands sliding over your breasts - just barely touching you as he kisses right beneath your ear, nipping and sucking as you moan beneath him.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

With Rio’s odd hours, sometimes a quickie is all you have and you will gladly take it any way you can. Sneaking away on lunch breaks is your MO and getting fucked raw in the parking lot by your crime boss boyfriend helps pass the rest of the day with ease.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Rio’s whole life is a risk, so it only makes sense that he takes calculated ones on with you.

“When will they be here?” Your voice was soft in the dark car. “Not too much longer.” Rio threaded his fingers through yours - his thumb rubbing your hand reflexively. “Not too much longer, huh?” You inquired as you slid your hand over his jeans - feeling him grow hard underneath your touch. Your hands worked expertly to slide him out of his jeans - your mouth watering as you slid your tongue around his length. “Mami, now?” His dark eyes filled with lust as he watched your cheeks hollow - taking more in each time your head bobbed. Rio’s head laid back as you choked against his length, sliding your flat tongue, feeling each ridge. “Mama. Fuck.” His fingers pulled your hair - his tightening grasp directed your efforts as you felt him come undone - your throat filling with him.

Sitting up, you wiped your mouth - a coy smirk breaking over your face as you realized Beth had been watching from the swing the whole time.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Rio can push you to your limits and he always makes sure you come first. You are more than accommodating and he spends his time worshipping you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Rio is not a conventional lover, and he will gladly tie your hands - teasing you with the lack of touch while he stares down at you. “Oh mama, what do you want?” His voice rough into your ear as he rocks against your hips - his fingers expertly rubbing your clit as you struggle against the binds.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Rio knows how responsive you are and loves to leave you wanting more. A dirty whisper in your ear as you wait to be seated at dinner, his hand resting right above your ass, his beard rubbing against your neck will leave you asking for the check before you’re even finished with the meal.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Rio isn’t loud, but he talks.

“Look at you take this dick, mama.”

“You’re such a good girl.”

“Darlin, I didn’t say you could come.”

“Take it. You asked for it.”

“How could you think you could move my pussy?”

“Fuck yourself till you come.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Rio is a sucker for cheesy romance - rose petals on the floor, candles lit, a bubble bath in a heart shaped tub - he loves it all. The weekend spent in Vegas felt like a rom com, but watching your man be intentional with his choices and his time makes your panties wet.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

He may be skinny, but his dick isn’t.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Rio is a busy man and compartmentalizes most of his feelings, including his sex drive. He misses you constantly, but money ain’t going to wash itself, so he keeps his shit together.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rio keeps odd hours, so he does fall asleep after, but it’s without guilt, because you’re snuggled right there with him.

#rio #rio fanfic #rio good girls nbc #rio good girls #rio x reader

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jelreth · 3 years

Text

okay im by no means a dnf shipper. but like.

i think one thing thats reallllllly underdone in fics is

“he gazed at the mask, the goofy smile painted on in heavy paint long dried, and choked back a tear. this was his lover. this was his friend. they had known each other for so long. when men become monsters it isn’t sudden, is it? it’s a long, slow transformation, filled with ‘he couldn’t have’ s and ‘that’s not what he would do’ s and long nights wondering where he stopped being the man and started being the mask. the voice. the smile.

he stepped forward, looking on into the porcelain soaked with shadow, and reached his pale hand towards it. george pushed the mask to the side. the face that awaited him was familiar, but only in structure. laughter carved into his mouth and around his eyes, the scar across his jaw, the beauty that everyone could see. no one described Dream as handsome. only beautiful. because no one dared to mention him. only his love, the king, could even stand to think about him.

the man looked up. the glint in his eyes could only be called malicious, violent. evil. george normally didn’t know the exact colour, the shade of green in his lover’s eyes giving way to a muddy yellow, but he now understood why green was corruption. envy. evil. “

anyways-

#dnf #dreamnotfound #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound

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wizardysseus · 3 years

Text

i was thinking about once upon a time (abc) in bed this morning so i decided to write this list

subject to change, since awhile ago i was in the middle of season 6 when they took it off netflix and i never quite got around to picking it back up. i’m gonna finish if it kills me i promise

top 5 things about once upon a time

5. anna frozen

when ouat introduced frozen characters, most fans decided the show had jumped the shark. they were not wrong. however, it was this very thing that allowed the show to be fun again! after an excruciatingly bad season 3 (we will get to that), bringing on anna and elsa literally transported directly from their own unaltered story in cheap ass versions of their unaltered movie costumes allowed the show to let loose and do... basically whatever it wanted. this became the hallmark of the show for those who stuck with it: absolutely not making sense at all, but being fun about it. post-season-three ouat becomes a totally different soap opera from season one, but by god you are never bored.*

personally, the flashback episode where anna annoys rumpelstiltskin and gets the better of him and he’s so fucking mad about it is like top 10 episodes**

4. 2x16 “the miller’s daughter”

this episode is just another personal favorite. it exemplifies what this show was really good at when it was good, and also where everything went wrong. i think cora is a great example of a good ouat villain, i think the twist on the rumpelstiltskin story is great, i think the dramatic beats really work.

...and in typical ouat fashion, cora immediately dies and two more villains we don’t care about at all are introduced. (sonequa forgive me you know i’m in love with you but tamara was nothing. it’s not your fault.) yes we get that great scene of snow aggressively doing archery practice while listening to “bad reputation” but was it worth killing off a compelling villain just as you’d dug into her story?

3. the commitment to regina’s redemption

and lana parrilla in general. i mean i’m gay and she’s hot but the worse the show got, the more acting lana gave it. and this is just speculation, but i think lana is more comfortable with drama than with camp? because regina becomes a much more interesting character as someone conflicted and on the path to redemption than as a villain. and by god, they were gonna redeem regina.

if only she had been gay we really could have had it all.

2. rumpelstiltskin

the sweet spot with rumpelstiltskin for me was seasons one and two when he was unabashedly bastard, there was an attempt to make him sympathetic but nobody except belle actually liked him, you weren’t quite sure how much he knew, he was pulling all the strings, and he was just really fucking weird. it will surprise no one who follows this blog to hear that that is my type of wizard.

1. season one

it’s a good season. it’s a good season. there are some bad things about it, but it was extremely watchable. it was doing fairy tales with occasional disney nods in a (mostly) cohesive fashion. the lore and the magic hadn’t sprawled out of control yet. it had the strongest relationship, imo, between emma and henry, and emma and snow. as for iconic episodes, most of the greats are here, plus sebastian stan as the mad hatter and giancarlo esposito as a series regular. the crowning moment for me is the scene at the end of skin deep, when regina confronts gold in the town jail and he reveals that he remembers his real name (after beating the shit out of belle’s dad with his cane obviously). god. that is some good television.

worst 5 things about once upon a time

5. the adoption politics but everyone knows this one.

4. WASTING the talent

you had the love of my life sonequa martin-green and gave her nothing. you somehow scored oded fehr as jafar and gave him nothing. you had giancarlo esposito and regina literally forgot he existed. i will kill you

3. rumpelstiltskin.

it’s no secret that robert carlyle was acting circles around most of the cast; my opinion is that the showrunners felt that if they committed to either his redemption or his villainy, they would never find someone else with the talent to fill his shoes as bastard wizard. so they flip-flopped on him every half-season, which ruins his story longterm, slowly kills the light in robert’s eyes, and gets reallllllly old. it’s also no secret that my favorite rumpelstiltskin is bastard wizard, but they screwed over belle BIG time in the process and for that i will never forgive them.

also like. the rumpelstiltskin fairy tale is antisemitic to begin with and they did not minimize that by comparing him to a lizard and naming his storybrooke counterpart mr gold. they just. did that.

2. THE FUCKING NEVERLAND ARC GOD IN CHRIIIIIIIIIIIST THAT HALF-SEASON IS EXCRUCIATING

1. captain hook

*it’s my opinion that if you are bored, you’re watching a hook-centric episode. every time i dropped the show and forgot about it for months at a time, it was because i had been in the middle of an episode about hook and just could not get through it. how do i describe all the things i don’t like about what killian hook jones did to the show? with subpoints!

1a. the episode where gold gives him back his hand and he never changes.

**this is actually the same episode i mentioned about anna and, like i said, it’s one of my favorites and not at all boring. look, i’m not pretending this list isn’t subjective as hell.

remember when hook blackmailed mr gold into magically reattaching his hand, which gold has been keeping in a jar, because hook has a date with emma and wants it to go well? but also, gold tells him that if he reattaches his hand with dark magic, it will turn him evil? and then hook spends the episode doing evil things, only for mr gold to tell him “i was just messing with you! the hand was not evil, you gave yourself permission to be evil ;)”

yeah, that’s basically hook’s mo.

1b. episode where emma tells him his brother is lying to him and he learns the exact wrong lesson from this and never changes.

so emma goes to the underworld to get hook back after he dies (while being evil and doing villainous things). they find his brother down there, too, and emma senses that he has a dark secret (because he does) and is lying to them (because he is). but hook always idolized his older brother, so he won't believe her. when emma confronts the brother directly, hook interrupts to rant to her about how he knows what this is ~really all about.

actual dialogue:

HOOK: i don't need proof to know what's really going on here. emma, when are you gonna admit that this isn't really about my brother? EMMA: what else would you think it was about? HOOK: us. you think if you can prove that liam is a villain, then i’ll somehow feel like i was less of one.

who... would EVER come to that conclusion. and why is the lesson he learns at the end “perhaps i do deserve saving after all” (another direct quote), and not “NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU, BECAUSE EMMA WAS LITERALLY RIGHT ABOUT YOUR BROTHER LYING TO EVERYONE”????

1c. the emma dark one arc, where hook never changes.

this would be the arc that leads up to the above underworld arc, and it is deeply dumb, entertaining, and hard to explain. suffice it to say, during this whole arc, killian (along with emma) has all the powers and ~~~Darkness~~~ of the dark one (formerly rumpelstiltskin). unlike emma, he is not aware of this for most of the season. the moment he finally finds out, he turns on emma and goes through with all the revenge plans he’s apparently been holding onto since season two.

it’s supposed to be sympathetic, because emma made this choice for him to be a dark one, which is clearly awful, when he didn’t want it. so i get that. but on the other hand, it is..... boring. because (a) it's nothing we haven't seen him try to do and fail at before, his motivations really aren't that complex. and more importantly, (b) he was the dark one the whole time! the only thing that changed, that made him act evil, was finding out about it. at that point, it's not the ~~~Darkness~~~ making you do evil things. it’s just you. because you’re a dick.

how is this arc resolved? well, he dies. after the underworld arc (which i very much enjoyed tbf), a sizable part of robin hood’s death episode is devoted to people telling emma to slow down and grieve for killian, since at least two arcs have revolved around her inability to let hook go when he is literally dying or dead. (it’s been said a million times but being his girlfriend really sucked the personality out of emma and i miss her.) and in the end he just... comes back anyway. no explanation given; he says it must be a reward from zeus for killing hades... while he and emma make out literally in front of the coffin of robin hood... who actually died fighting hades. killian died half a season before. while he was evil. and emma reverts to tearful girlfriend.

it’s insulting. it’s grating. and it is a Killian Hook Jones Guarantee that his episodes will involve some measure of this.

like, is it more or less the same shtick that the writers kept giving rumpelstiltskin, too? backsliding and screwing over his love interest who gets less and less say in the matter? yes. definitely. the crucial difference is that i, personally, love rumpelstiltskin, while i find hook boring and not self-aware. but clearly i have had a lot of fun complaining about him! again, this is not an objective list.

conclusions

this show ran for 7 years. it got cancelled not because it deserved to, but because no one liked the soft reboot. it was on until 2018.

#thoughts #once upon a time #long post

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