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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

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Nightwing #81 Review

i swear i actually thought no one was interested so i didn’t write one but a grand total of two (2) people said they wanted to read it, so here it is. honestly, my opinion’s been going a bit downhill, but the art is really cool and there are some decent parts so. holding out i guess? i really hope taylor has an end goal or at least a cohesive plan, otherwise i don’t see this series going anywhere i’ll particularly enjoy

the cover is very straightforward in its imagery, this villain has nightwing in the palm of his hand, easily manipulated, easily controlled no matter the action dick thinks he’ll take.

what i find interesting is the colour: both previously and heavily in this issue, the colourist has chosen to make pink this villain’s main colour, with different shades of pink as accents. so why the red in the cover? possibly to just make it more eye-grabbing, though one could argue that pink is even more eye-catching than red. maybe to convey a sense of dread or fear that pink won’t fully get across. either way, it’s definitely a decision i’m curious about.

so melinda zucco is in a high enough political position within bludhaven that she is next in line to become the mayor after the previous mayor died and dick just,,,,didn’t have any idea she existed? dick didn’t know anything about her? forget dick’s own brilliant detective skills, forget his doggedness at anything zucco related, you’re telling me bruce never found her and told dick about her? maybe he wouldn’t have now, but back when dick was a young kid, he definitely would have at least made dick aware of her existence, to let dick know and ask if he wanted to interfere with her life or anything.

i have a thought about zucco’s facial expressions. she is very much stone-cold poker face throughout the entire issue. the only time i see her pull a different expression is near the end when dick corners her against a wall with an arm around her throat.

this is most certainly intentional, what with the varied and intense expressions we see on other characters, dick most prominently. i’m wondering what exactly is the creative team’s reasoning behind this. in these panels, zucco is meeting with the most dangerous, powerful, near-bloodthirsty man in all of bludhaven and becoming the mayor of the city respectfully. in both of these panels, there is barely a hint of emotion in her face: no fear, no determination, no satisfaction. it’s just odd, considering the circumstances she’s in, regardless of any training recieved.

just spitballing here but. like. from what i’ve read so far, dick doesn’t really seem like bludhaven’s guardian angel. more like when peter parker first put on spandex and blindly stepped out into new york.

dick, how exactly can you underestimate someone from one move. so he caught your escrima. anyone with enhanced reflexes can do that. you still don’t know how he can actually fight, and this is shown in the next set of panels.

i just don’t like the wording here. dick’s “underestimated” him, but beats him up easy in the next page. in addition, i don’t know much about combat, but i would assume it would take more than one move to determine exactly what an opponent’s skill level is, made even more complex when you add physical enhancements and metahumans and aliens into the mixture.

idk my first thought when i saw that he caught the stick was “ah ok he’s enhanced” because obviously he couldn’t have reacted fast enough if he wasn’t (as there are few people trained enough to catch it on human reflexes alone.) then the wording in the next panel, i’ve underestimated him, made me think “oh no ok so he’s not enhanced, he’s just a really good fighter and can give dick a run for his money in a fight.” then, it turns out my first assumption was proven correct in the next panel. it just comes across as misleading to me.

(also sidenote but his curls are cute.)

have i praised the art enough in this series? no, i have not.

i adore the way this is laid out and illustrated. without even having to read the text, the action sequence is visually engaging and intense, and easily followable from one panel to the next. dick’s physical expertise comes through quite efficiently, and i love the special attention shown to draw our attention to dick’s escrima in the bottom right corner.

also that move in the middle row leftmost panel that’s the mcu black widow move to get up off the ground it was the first thing i noticed and it made me laugh; thought it was worth noting

i’m really loving dick’s escrima sticks in this run. they’re just so multipurpose, it’s hilarious and exhilarating. kinda reminds me of bruce’s belt, the way the button in the middle does eevveeerrryyytthhiinngg.

got a problem? don’t worry! dick’s installed a feature into his escrima that can fix that! (i like thinking dick helped make them it makes me happy and makes my engineer!dick side satisfied)

yawn. your big heart is your one true weakness yadda yadda the fact that you care will be used against you blah blah we get it. jesus can the villains please find a different weakness to exploit, this is getting old.

i need dick’s capacity to empathize and care and love to stop being a weakness that villains sneer about. bonus points if dick saves everyone anyway, either because of or despite his great big heart and the villain is surprised by the goodness of mankind or some shit like that.

i need it to be a strength, right from the get-go. the fact that he cares so incredibly much should be an asset that dick has and will use. he’s a very complex character with years of background, it can’t possibly be that hard to find another weakness of his.

ooooh this is cool, gosh i absolutely love this.

because what exactly is the reader doing? we are seeing the fear in dick’s face, just as this villain intended. even better, we’re seeing the reflection of it from the villain’s glossy mask, telling us exactly what we’re seeing and exactly what he likes so much about it.

dick’s standing up straight, shoulders drawn back, looking up at this villain’s face with determination and resolve, but his suit is tattered. one eye looks to be swollen. his hair is falling limply around his eyes, as opposed to the curls from earlier. his escrima aren’t even part of the main focus, instead blending into the side of the mask in the outer corners of the mask’s eyes, which tells you exactly how big of a threat they are to this villain.

poor bitewing’s quite alarmed.

also on second thought why would you bring your puppy out like this, when you know you’re gonna end up fighting someone in the suit. a) how many grey three-legged adorable little puppies live in the bludhaven area dick? and how easy will it be to connect the doggo running around with nightwing with the doggo that dick grayson owns? and 2) is this puppers trained? does she have fighting experience? how exactly can you ensure she will survive this highly stressful situation?

dick take better care of your dog

you know what? i was with tim on this one. why exactly is dick so optimistic and trusting about the people of bludhaven? bludhaven, which has been described as gotham’s smaller, smellier, more corrupt sister city once or twice. it’s not just the corrupt people in power, the entire system needs to change and people need to have faith and hope in order for them to come together, espcially if they’ve been living in conditions like how bludhaven has been described. from how clueless dick is about his own goddamn city, i can tell he hasn’t been here long.

it was a nice moment of hope, i’ll admit. but it was a tad unrealistic for me.

also it was in a weird place in the comic. this sort of confrontation and big get-together of the people to rejuvenate hope in each other feels like it should come near the end of a run, if not the end of an issue. certainly not in the first third of an issue. the pacing’s a bit off to me.

loyal little puppy patiently waiting for her human to wake up. i love her so much.

no it’s not. it’s bitewing.

living for this t-shirt honestly. do comics of dc characters exist in the dc universe? they must if the mug and the shirt are any indication

(now i’m imagining the first batman movie that came out in the dc universe and bruce just. being so offended at who they chose to play him.)

well, yes. but when a group of people are put through hellish conditions over and over again, they soon become desensitized to the pain and terror of their everyday lives in order to both stay sane and keep their life relatively stable, and part of that becomes ignoring or blocking out anything that isn’t directly important to you or your loved ones. having a bleeding heart will most likely get you killed in a city like bludhaven if you don’t have the same skills that vigilantes have.

and of course, people are more than capable of coming together and rallying under their city’s vigilante after seeing the good they’ve done and how they’ve helped the people, but that sort of trust takes time and effort to build. dick also had the whole ric arc and was gone for a while, which has been referenced several times in this particular issue in fact. that’s not going to make bludhaven’s citizens any more likely to trust him.

maybe i’m being a bit harsh but this comic is comic off as a bit too idealistic for the amount of change nightwing can do in a city given the present and past circumstances as well as nightwing’s own abilities. even dick grayson can’t pull off everything.

ok seriously this needs to stop this needs to stop.

right now, dick reminds me of oliver queen in the few episodes of the cw’s arrow i watched. he does the punchy-kicky-fighty and occasionally has smart insights due to the skills he gained from his past that he certainly definitely totally has but only ever exhibits once, while his team does all of the background research and information gathering and actual work.

this is dick’s city. if he has the same intelligence, worth ethic, and stubbornness in this run that he’s been shown to possess all his life, then he knows this city inside out. he’ll have meticulous notes organized in a ridiculously efficient system, he’ll have scouted out zucco long before this started, he’ll have known when anything big happened in the bludhaven political landscape in an instant.

i’m really not liking exactly how much dick’s relying on babs and tim in this series. sure, he loves them and cares for them and likes working cases with them. but he always pulls his own weight, has always been a mentor figure to tim instead of what’s weirdly becoming the other way around, and takes point on the cases in his own damn city.

what kind of weak-ass oracle is this?? redacted fbi files are child’s play. babs used to hack into the fbi for fun. this one particular picture is so out of character i want to laugh.

reading this series has unfortunately made me confront that, despite the tiny fluid acrobat dick that lives in my head 24/7, canon dick is impossibly 5′10 and muscular at that.

mmm. titties.

tim said hydrate or die-drate bitch

love how dick’s doing all this intense brooding and stuff meanwhile bitewing is curled up in a soft comfy post having the time of her life.

you don’t understand i would legitimately kill myself for her.

also the lighting in this one scene is cool. the blue tones come off so well.

they’re just. so multipurpose!! they can become a bo staff. they can cut glass. they can become a grapple hook/line. they can electrify someone. they’re a funky colour. i’m becoming really attached to these things. absolute solid choice in weaponry.

if you’re gonna write up every rookie mistake dick has made during this series to head trauma, then dick shouldn’t be out and about at all, much less in costume.

see this? this is just straight up wrong. dick most definitely should have spotted her, and would have immediately moved to take her down.

scratch that, dick would have done a full check of the building, because he knows not to break into places uninformed, especially if the owner of the apartment was raised by the maroni family. someone as highly trained, experienced, and competent as dick wouldn’t have done this.

and if you chalk it up to head injury, (which is probably true), than his ~love interest~ and his little brother should have done a much better job making sure he stays in his house.

zucco looks so awkward it’s fucking hilarious

are those shadows that mimic a domino mask, to both reflect and hide the fact that his mask is missing? are those bruises around his eyes, to show how, despite what good he’s doing, being nightwing is hurting dick right now?

(isn’t his domino mask supposed to have an electrifying feature that keeps people from removing them?)

it’s a little odd how the three known villains of this series are all coloured in warm shades, more specifically pink. meanwhile, in earlier issues, dick’s fondest memories were in pink, memories of him and alfred in particular. why has the colour pink changed from signifying something benevolent to something malicious? idk i hope this gets explained later.

this i did like. either it’s just a display of brute force in anger, or dick slipped the ties and pulled them off once untied. both ways, it’s an unintentional display of power, and i think that’s kinda cool.

again. dick is,,,tall? sort of? weirdddd

i’m so glad most readers are unified in the notion that this was the absolute dumbest fucking thing.

i’m hoping this gets disproved or something soon. and i hope dick doesn’t fall for it, because he definitely knows better than to take something as important as this at face value.

what exactly is taylor trying to accomplish here? why is he trying to go back on what we all knew was a happy, loving childhood and throw strife and disharmony and (what i’m assuming will be) infidelity? this will not end well at all.

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,,,,,this review got way longer than expected lol. and i realize most of it just became me ranting. i guess i didn’t realize how ticked off i was originally. fingers crossed it gets better.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @comics-observer

#nightwing 81 #nightwing #dick grayson #dc #nightwing 81 meta #nightwing meta #dick grayson meta #dc meta #river thinks too hard

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tansypoisoning · 4 years

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(Un)Conditional - Part 1

Truce

You didn’t remember how or why you found yourself in Ransom’s bed in the first place, but now, poor, pregnant and desperate, you had your reasons for putting up with him, and they weren’t noble. His reasons for staying with you weren’t noble either.

Me 🤝 The Reader Insert making stupid decisions

In which the reader is pregnant with Ransom’s baby and he sees that as an opportunity for personal enrichment. Big changes to the original plot, but Idk where this is going, so stay tuned for my brain farts, and I accept suggestions (Ransom redemption arc? Or should I make him even shittier? I haven’t decided yet!). I still want to have Benoit Blanc in the story somehow, because he’s my jam, my jelly, my peanut butter and my peanuts. This chapter is safe for anyone who hasn’t watched the movie but THERE WILL BE SPOILERS in the future.

Chapter 2 - I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

Fandoms: Knives Out

Genre: *surprised Pikachu face*

Ships: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Smut, some light choking, some daddy kink, mentions of past sexual assault, talk of abortion, unhealthy relationships, Ransom is an asshole, a fuckboy and also verbally abusive tbh.

You were such an idiot.

Many were the times you had come home after terrible dates, or left parties in your friends’ arms after a guy tried to finger-bang you when you were passed out on the couch, and yet you still let your guard down around men you knew to be assholes. You could always tell; you weren’t sure whether it was thanks to familiarity ,or if you had a knack for reading people, but you still let terrible men in when you knew them to be terrible. Bad habits, hard to break, yadda yadda yadda. All that made for piss poor comfort when you looked at the five little plastics sticks in front of you.

Feet tapping against the ground and your phone held in between your cheek and shoulder, you typed on your laptop. Planned Parenthood. You should’ve done this sooner, way sooner, when you could get an IUD, or the pill, or the shot, or whatever the fuck else, instead of trusting your reliably unreliable partners and your nonexistent backbone. Birth control was expensive, but it was nowhere near as expensive as a baby, and you were going to get the same amount of help with either, which was to say, none.

No… That wasn’t quite true. Your brother and your friends would pitch in if you asked, you knew, but, as previously established, you were an idiot.

You knew there were people who loved you and would support you no matter what, but you didn’t want to burden them with your problems. This mess was on you, on you and…

Mailbox. Of course he didn’t pick up. He got what he wanted from you, and was now moving on to another woman who was equally as gullible and equally as “passable” as you. You couldn't believe his negging had worked on you, you were so fucked.

Deep breathes. It wasn’t over yet, you could fix this. The… the thing was still only two months, you could get rid of it, with a pill, even. But should you?

You tossed your phone to the side and opened another tab. Fetus two months. You clicked the first result that mentioned the development of the thing growing inside you and read the section entitled “Baby”. Internal organs already in place… wiggling and waving like mad? Distinct facial features?!

Your hands found their way to your mouth as a sob found its way past your lips. No way. This was some forced-birther propaganda, it had to be.

You left that shitty website and opened usually trustworthy Wikipedia, but it was of no help. It didn’t exactly contradict the information the other website had given you – the difference between “waving” and “twitches” was negligible to your addled brain.

You closed your laptop with a little more force than it was wise. You stood and began pacing, one hand over your face and another resting on your abdomen. It was just your luck to have your eggs dodge the sperm of every jerk you could get to pay child support, only for you to end up carrying the Antichrist – and the Devil could afford the best lawyers.

Damned be the day you let Hugh RaNsOm Drysdale in your bed without a condom, and damned be you for being so fucking stupid. You deserved whatever suffering that came from this, and you could accept them with some grace if it didn’t feel like you were dragging an innocent along with you.

You stopped and looked down at the row of pregnancy tests arranged over the bathroom counter, all of them positive. You couldn't do this. You regretted that one night of meaningless sex more than you regretted anything in your life, and maybe you’d regret your current decision even more but you couldn't do the thing you knew you should do.

You swiped all the tests into your arms and dumped them in your bag. You grabbed your keys and walked out of your pitiful apartment and into your pitiful car. You had barely enough money to take care of yourself, let alone a child. Abortion could be the best thing you could do as a mother, but…

You pushed the keys into the ignition and shook your head. You were emotional, that was all. If you just gave yourself a little more time you’d stop thinking of it as more than the parasite it actually was, but for now… For now you needed to get things straight with the sperm donor, no matter how much it could hurt, and you were under no illusions – it would hurt like a motherfucker.

You had been in Ransom’s unfairly cool house a grand total of three times. He didn’t like having you over, much preferring fucking at your house even if he turned up his nose at the building and everything inside it. Maybe he didn’t like having to disinfect his furniture every time it got into contact with your poor people germs.

Yeah, like he cleaned anything.

You parked in front of the contemporary building and made your way to the front door, ringing the bell four times because Ransom never answered when people rang only once or twice, and then another because you were filled with dread, and manic energy, and the powerful desire to punch him in his perfect face until it wasn’t quite so perfect anymore.

You waited several minutes but there was no answer. It wasn’t surprising; if he was inside you’d have seen him through one of the outrageously large windows that covered almost every wall of the house.

You sat down on the steps to the entrance and pulled out your phone. You were done with work for the day, and you weren’t sure when he would want to pick up your calls again. You could wait.

And wait you did.

It was two in the morning when Ransom’s BMW pulled up in front of the building, activating the motion sensor lights. He walked out of the car with the confidence of a man who knew he owned everything he surveyed.

Fucking dipshit.

“Wow,” he laughed, opening his arms then dropping them to his side again, lest he appear too inviting. “You want it bad.”

You started rummaging through your bag for the pregnancy test as not to waste your time with pointless conversation. That should tell him everything you wanted to say.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood today,” he said pulling his keys from his stupid suede coat only he could make look hot “long day, you know how it is. You can suck my cock and stay over, if you want.”

He had unlocked the door and was nudging you with his foot when you found what you were looking for and got up with a jump.

You waved the stick in the air victoriously. Even though you were the one who was the worst off in this scenario, you could at least use the source of your misery to wipe the smirk off his dumb, gorgeous face.

Done and did. Once Ransom caught on, the corner of his mouth dropped, free falling. Your life had been thrown in disarray, and the medical bills, if you chose to keep the thing, would ensure you would end up homeless in a couple of months, but at least you could rejoice in the fact you had ruined his eternal party in a spectacular fashion.

“What do you want?” He snarled. “Can’t pay the abortion? How much is it?”

You recoiled as if he had just swung a knife in your direction. This was new. You’d seen him angry before, sure, but this… the curl of his lips, the look in his eyes– it had you second guessing your decision to come see him.

You struggled to find your voice for a few seconds “I don’t… I haven’t decided what I want to do yet.”

Regret pierced you through like a lance. You knew he didn’t care about you – he didn’t “do monogamy”, he never asked you about your day, it was a struggle to get him to even buy you a coffee, and he only bothered to make you come if he could use it to feed his pride somehow – but all his disinterest in your well-being was nothing compared to the loathing radiating from him, like you were a fat dying cockroach stuck to the bottom of his nice leather shoes.

There was no reason Ransom should be able to make you feel like that. He was an absolute shitheel, a trust-fund baby who had never had a job in his life, never worked to build anything, and didn’t even have the decency to be thankful to his family for all they had done for him, and you didn’t even like him (conceding that he was attractive and you were a masochist was not the same as liking), so his opinion shouldn’t matter to you, someone with a stable source of income and an ounce of moral fiber. That didn’t stop you from writhing under his gaze.

“Get in,” he said, voice devoid of anything that could be considered charming.

You entered, waiting at the side, in fear of walking past the foyer without invitation, while he locked the door behind him.

He walked by you and went right to the kitchen. You followed him with your eyes, watched him grab a glass, fill it with water and down it. He didn’t offer you anything – you figured he didn’t think you deserved it.

“You’re suggesting it’s mine.”

His words startled you from your stupor, and you shook in your spot by the entrance before answering. “I know it’s yours. I haven’t slept with anyone else in almost a year.”

“And you are saying that.”

You bristled at his insinuation. “We can get a paternity test, if you want.”

Ransom lifted his head and inhaled sharply. He paced the length of his high end, open concept, immaculate-because-it-was-never-used kitchen, then opened a drawer, pausing to look up at you, closed it, then moved to the next and repeating the process several more times, while you shifted from one foot to the other.

“Here’s the thing, honey,” he said, and the last word was said with anything but sweetness “I’ll pay for the abortion, and I’ll pay for you to have the abortion. If you’re not gonna do it, then I don’t want to see your dog face again.”

You knew Ransom didn’t like kids – he despised them, even – but you didn’t think he’d react quite this badly. You knew he would want nothing to do with it, but you still thought telling him was the right thing to do. He deserved to know at least, surely.

The feeling you got when he first turned on you that night was a sign; you shouldn’t have come.

“I’m leaving,” you whispered.

Ransom’s cheeks were red and wide, and it seemed as if he was about to argue when he slammed his hand against the counter then stomped towards you.

You shrunk in on yourself, but you needn’t have. He just unlocked the door and pulled it open, holding it for you to walk through. His breathing was heavy and his shoulders were tense, like he was holding himself back.

Once you had rallied your strength and crossed the threshold, you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Ransom, still glaring at you with the same awful expression. You couldn't imagine what he had to tell you that hadn’t already been said.

“If you try contacting me again, you’re fucked.”

And then he slammed the door in your face.

You made your way to your car, head hanging low. That had been a disaster, but at least he made it easier for you to choose one of the options.

Fucking dipshit.

You had been right; time had given you helped you think things over.

Three days later and you could refer to the fetus as a fetus without going down a depressive spiral, and the thought of abortion was more palatable to you. In a couple more days you were certain you’d be able to walk into Planned Parenthood with your head held high, get your pill, and walk out, facing the world and the potential crowds of angry protesters with confidence, then move on with your life, promising never to get involved with another shitty guy again. The scare would be enough to make you change your ways, you were sure.

You didn’t want a kid, at least not yet. You were young, living paycheck to paycheck, and any child you had right now would grow up without a father. You were still mulling it over but abortion seemed like the most responsible choice, and if you couldn't make the responsible choice now, you’d make for a terrible mother in the future.

A knock on the door made you look up at the clock. Fifteen past eleven. Maybe the old lady who lived across the hall from you needed help killing a bug or something. You stood, pulled the latch off and unlocked the door, not thinking much of it, and almost walked face first into a hard body you were far too familiar with.

Ransom was there, waiting for you, his face inscrutable. His chest was heaving, and some serious heat emanated from it. You had the urge to hug his waist and burrow into his warmth, but you resisted it bravely. You’d promised yourself you would stop chasing men like him, and you intended on keeping that promise.

“Ransom,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice even.

A flash of pain roamed his face, and then he was putting his hands on you, holding the side of your face in his large palms. You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound was muffled between your lips and his.

A kiss. Ransom was kissing you – and a second ago you were so sure he was paying you a visit just to beat you up.

He maneuvered you into your apartment, still cradling your cheeks with surprising gentleness. You knew you should’ve stopped him, but your feet followed his steps with such ease, and he was so fucking warm and you living room so cold.

As one of his hands slid from your face to the back of your neck, something inside you screamed. It told you to stop now or it would be too late, and you’d fall into the same old hole and not be able to crawl out of it. You surprised yourself by listening to it and pulling away, pushing on his chest to keep a good distance between you. You told yourself you were doing well, even though you were holding onto his white shirt like a lifeline and arching your body into his.

“Ransom, wha-” your words were cut off by another kiss, more heated than the previous.

He pushed you down onto your couch - the creaky old thing he always complained about – and climbed on top of you you, forcing you both into a laying position.

When Ransom pulled away (only to immediately latch his lips to your earlobe) you made to question him before the weakest part of yourself could convince you to just let it happen. It was she who had gotten you into this mess in the first place. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He mumbled against your skin.

“I know what you’re doing,” you huffed, twisting your body beneath him in a half-assed attempt to buck him off “You told me to never contact you again. Why are you here?”

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that had your very core thrumming. He removed his hands from you and pushed himself up by the forearms to look down at you. When you saw his smirk, you knew you were going to end up having sex with him no matter what he said next.

“I guess I couldn't keep away.”

And with that he went right back to his station, sucking and nibbling on the spot just behind your ear and running his hand across your waist and belly.

But what about the baby? What about whether you wanted to keep it or not? These questions were lodged in your throat, dying to burst out, but you didn’t want to to ruin this moment. You were so tired; you just wanted to be held, and Ransom was willing to do that for you, so what was the harm in giving in?

You lifted a leg and wrapped it around his thigh, and that Ransom took as acquiescence or defeat. He pulled away to lift your shirt above your breasts and wasted no time diving for them, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and squeezing the other in between his fingers. You planted your feet on the couch and used them as leverage push your crotch upwards and rub it against his. He was a terrible person, you knew, but he could fuck you so good when he wanted to, and right now you only had the brain space to care about one of those things.

Your hips rocked in tandem with his, driving you closer to that edge you didn’t know you were yearning for until you saw him standing on your doorstep. Entangled in his arms, you remembered your older brother’s words from that night some ten years ago when you were lying on the backseat of his car, a plastic bag filled with your vomit clutched in your hands. You saw his eyes in the rear view mirror, crinkling in a smile that was equal parts amused and concerned.

A pretty boy is going to be the end of you, huh?

Ransom pushed himself into a kneeling position, removed his dark cardigan and tossed it to some forgotten corner of your living room, his shirt receiving the same treatment soon after. For someone who was so averse to working, he sure didn’t skimp on his work outs. He was built like a god, but his smile was that of the devil.

He crashed down on top of you, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you to him. You sunk both hands in his perfectly coiffed hair and dragged him up until you were staring into his baby blue eyes. He leaned down to kiss you, and you obliged him. His mouth devoured your own while his hands roamed your body, hungry, desperate almost. You didn’t want to be outdone, both because he was an asshole and you didn’t want to lose to him, and because you were as starved of him as he seemed to be of you, so you wrapped both legs around his waist to pull yourself even closer to him, as close as you could get.

Ransom’s hands abandoned your body in favor of his belt, unbuckling it to shove his pants just past his upper thighs. His eyes were pointed, telling you he expected you to follow his lead. You undid your buttons with heavy fingers, and allowed him to pull your bottoms all the way off. His grin grew in size and insolence when he saw your panties were soaked through.

“You do want it bad.”

Fucking dipshit.

Before you could think of something smarter to say, he was dragging your underwear to the side and spreading your folds. You certainly weren’t going to think of a comeback now, with his fingers up your cunt and your body begging for his attention. You wouldn’t be this aroused with any other man, but you already knew you suffered from a serious case of tastelessness and dumb. Most grievously, it appeared to be terminal.

Ransom stoked the fires inside you with one hand, pulling it out periodically to smear the wetness across your lower lips while he held himself aloft with the other, his usual lazy, confident smile plastered on his face. It made a sudden wave of lucidity wash over you.

What the fuck were you doing? You knew he wasn’t worth your time since the day you met him; Three days ago he had treated you like shit after you told him you were pregnant; Just a few minutes before you were determined not to get involved with him or men like him ever again. All the signs told you to stop now, push him away and tell him to get out under threat of you calling the police, and yet here you were, panting under him and dying to feel his cock stretching you. The mere promise of dick had you going back on your word like a rat, and all you did was make excuses for yourself. You were always too weak or too dumb to resist your urges, weren’t you? That’s why you never bothered trying.

“Wai-”

The air was forcibly expelled from your lungs when his cock entered you. He wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t have to be; your body was more than ready for him. The grunt that came fro you had an air of finality to it. You weren’t going to stop him now.

The screaming part of you let out one final screech, then withered and died.

Ransom panted, rolling his hips against yours. You held onto his arms and looked up at him. This was unusual. Normally he’d be pounding into you when you were this slick, and unusual with Ransom tended to mean ‘bad’.

He brought two wet fingers to your face and tapped your chin with them.

“Get me clean.”

You parted your lips and accepted the appendages into your mouth. Nothing unusual there; he’d made you taste yourself on his fingers a couple of times. He liked to watch you lick them clean, but this was different. His smile was strained and his eyes looked past you. You turned the full powerful of your best puppy impression on him, but he still seemed to be half-there half-somewhere else.

Once you had slurped all your juices and then some, Ransom moved both his hands to your arms, pressing you against the hard surface of the couch. He should’ve started fucking you already, but he only rocked his pelvis side to side, giving you just a hint of friction, nowhere near enough to satisfy you.

You whined and bucked your hips upwards. That got him out of his trance, his eyes regaining their shine and his smile splitting into a grin. There was that asshole you knew and didn’t love.

“What’s with that face?” He asked and moved one of his hands to your neck, applying pressure, not enough to compromise your breathing but enough to leave you light-headed for a different reason “You want something?”

“Ransom,” you clawed at his forearm like you could do anything if he chose to choke you.

“You gotta ask, baby. If you want daddy to fuck you, you gotta ask.”

Your fingers stilled around his arm. The daddy thing was not new either, but you didn’t think he’d bring it up under the present circumstances. Was this intentional, or was he not even aware of what he was saying? Were you wrong to think it was weird for him to say that now?

The fingers around your throat tightened, closing your airway for a moment, then releasing.

“Ask.”

You squirmed, tapping on his arm, but all that got you was another squeeze.

“Please,” you whimpered “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Ransom’s grin grew even wider, wide enough that light reflected off his canines. He adjusted his position on his knees, and took his other hand from your arm, reaching behind your head to pull you by the hair, further exposing your neck to him.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered against the top of your head.

He pulled his cock almost all the way out, then slammed back inside you. He pushed into you with shallow thrusts until he tapped a spot that made you gasp. Having found what he was looking for, Ransom diverted most of his attentions to hitting his target over and over again, periodically stopping to grind against it in a torturous slow pace.

You were too aroused to last much longer, and the bastard would be able to finish you off with little effort.

“You close, baby? You wanna cum?” He asked, and you nodded emphatically “Then you gotta do what daddy says. Can you do that?”

God, you’d do anything he asked of you at this point. Someone needed to tattoo ‘Sucker’ on your forehead already.

“Yes, daddy!” You cried, your words devolving into a high-pitched whine “I’ll do anything, please!”

The hand in your neck slid down across your body and delved in between your legs in search of your clit. You squealed when his fingers made contact, and whimpered when they began rubbing. You were aware of your trembling legs, but unable to do anything about them.

Ransom could always dismantle you with ease, but now more so than ever. You came in record time, with short little moans that culminated in an embarrassing howl. You were just coming down from your high when he picked up his pace, grunting and huffing above you. He gave you no warning before spilling into you, swaying back and forth and groaning as his own orgasm ebbed away. The fact that this was the least concerning thing he’d done all evening didn’t escape you.

He held you to him for a few seconds as both your breaths evened out, then rolled over, leaning against the backrest and lying you down by the outer edge of the couch. Ransom was always more tractable after sex, but he’d go back to being his dismissive self come the morning, and then you’d bitch and moan to yourself. This was a familiar dance you couldn't seem to stop repeating.

You were ready to recommence your self-pitying when Ransom spoke, interrupting the flow of your lamentations.

“I thought about what you said the other day,” he said. The pregnancy? Why would he bring that up now? “and if you want to keep it, I’ll help you.”

A tremor ran through your spine and you lost your precarious balance on the couch, falling to the carpet with a loud thud.

There was laughter – because of course there was – then Ransom was peering down at you. His lips were pressed together, as if he was still fighting to rein in his amusement.

“You… you want to help me?” You asked when you found your voice again.

He nodded. “I do.”

“You want to help me raise a kid?”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes “I thought that was obvious the first two times I said it.”

“You don’t like kids.”

“I like to think I would like my kids,” Ransom said, stretching across your couch like a lazy cat.

“Why?” You said, then, realizing that question was more for yourself than it was for him, you rephrased your question “What made you change your mind? Cause you seemed pretty sure when I saw you last.”

“And I was,” he agreed “I never wanted kids, and… And I was pissed,” he chuckled and shook his head “I don’t know who I was pissed at. All I know is I couldn't think straight. When I saw the pregnancy test… I don’t know, I could see my entire life crumbling.”

You could’ve asked him ‘what life?’ but decided against it.

“So, cut to a few days later, and I had this… Clarity. I realized there was nothing I could do if you wanted to keep it, and maybe,” he paused to take a deep breath “maybe I should take responsibility.”

You sat up and made a point of frowning at him. “Seriously, what happened?”

“I told you already. Just… boom – clarity.”

You knew Ransom was sharper than a first impression would lead one to believe, but self-awareness was not his forte. Could he have had a change of heart in such a short period of time? Did you believe him? You wanted to believe him.

“Do you seriously want to raise a kid with me?”

He laughed and threw his hands up in the air “How many times do I gotta say it?”

“Do you even know what that entails?”

“Hey, I babysat my cousins a couple times,” he said, picking at the foam peeking through a hole in the upholstery of your couch “I bet I’d do better than you.”

Being a parent had to be harder than watching children for a few hours, but as far as experience with children went… well, maybe he was onto something.

A palm emerged in front of you, rousing you from your thoughts.

“Truce?” Ransom asked. There was something about the way he looked at you gave you hope.

Earnest, he looked earnest.

You took his hand in yours and shook once.

“Truce.”

Part 2: I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #ransom thrombrey #ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #none stopped me #TREASON MOST FOUL #one of the chapters will be titled 'Harlan Shake' and y'all will have deserved it #i almost named this chapter 'Fucking Dipshit' too #mine #(Un)Conditional

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anytaintedcreature · 5 years

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Fanfic ask meme: 13, 17 (heh), 18, 21 (I need author recs!), 24, 33, 41, 44, 47 ("Serena Alone"), 48, 50. Any or all, dealer's choice.

YAY

13. Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

Hmm...this one is hard because I think it's not so much one particular person than it is the characters that only show up maybe once or twice. Those are the scenes I positively labor over for days, when it's a voice I've never used and probably won't again. Like for example, I've been fighting through a scene with Grand Master Pang, I keep skipping it (because the boys just call to me) and I have to get it done soon, but. Those super minor characters are the ones that throw me.

17. Post a line from a WIP you're working on.

Since you enjoyed giggles in the last chapter, here’s some lighthearted fun.

“What’s that face for?”

Rowan realized too late he’d plastered on what had to be a dopey sort of grin. “Nothing. It’s just, you know. Sneaking around, hoods up, it’s like when we first met.”

The corners of Erik’s mouth twitched upwards. “Yeah, only I think I could do without shouts of ‘Darkspawn’ and being shot at by crossbows and magic.”

((I’ll put the rest under a cut, to spare those who don’t care. There may or may not be another snippet under here, though. ))

18. Do you have any abandoned WIPs? What made you abandon them?

I do not, actually. I've really only started writing fanfic in the past year and haven't started anything that won't be finished. And I'd rather be struck from the earth itself than abandon my original work, so that will happen one day, whether the world wants it or not.

21. Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

Well my bud, my homie, I cannot answer this one honestly without saying you. Because your writing absolutely slays me and I aspire to hone my craft as fantastically as you have, and you have so much more going on in life than I do that the amount of writing you manage to put out for all eight of us and that shoelace astounds me. Like, you’ve got a job you love and a family and all that jazz and still find some time to write about the things you love, that’s the dream right there and I admire the hell out of you for it.

In other news, two of my favorite Dragon Age writers are loquaciousquark and jawsandbones, but it's mostly fenhawke, which may not be to your particular taste, but damn they are fantastic. I also keep up with laurelsofhighever's The Falcon and the Rose, which is Alistair/Cousland - again, idk if that's your cup of tea but we should totally chat about the rest of Dragon Age because we haven't yet. A travesty.

24. How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Oh, man. Well. I've never written anything more than like, implied smut. I feel like my kiss scenes alone need some work (although I'm rather proud of one I just wrote recently, completely unrelated to anything, luminerik who I don't go here) and I just don't know that I'd be any good at writing actual, explicit smut, honestly. It'd probably be stilted and weird and I'd quietly slip into the nearest crack in the floor.

33. What's the biggest compliment you've gotten?

God, like I don't cry at least a little over every single comment. I don't know, someone told me yesterday I inspired them which like, hit me in the gut forty different times. Also someone told me a while ago that my prose was exquisite which meant the whole entire world, the fucking universe, to me because I was just starting out with this fic and just didn't really know if it was any good.

I cry over every compliment on my writing because it is something I so desperately want to be good at, because it feeds my soul and knowing that any bit of it has a positive effect on anyone just stuns me.

That got sappy AF so next

41. What's your favorite minor character you've ever written?

Better be this asshole

Honestly I just love his voice and his manner of speaking and finding a way to bring him back around to some manner of light has been a joy added to my life.

44. What is the last line you wrote?

“You have one hour,” Erik shoved his sleeve up. He unhooked the timepiece from around his wrist, before strapping it to Rowan’s. “One hour, and if you don’t come back, I swear to Yggdrasil I will find a way to drag you out of there myself.”

47. Here's a fic title - 'Serena Alone', what would this story be about?

May I interest you in a warm dish of angst, fresh from the oven: a collection of scenes following Serena's lost moments in Act II, juxtaposed with sweet childhood memories, up until the big Grove of Repose reveal, except PLOT TWIST its all told from the POV of Veronica's ghost, who watches her twin face the world alone, (because she couldn't go back to Yggdrasil while it was not there, correct?) Until the tree is restored and Veronica can find peace knowing Serena has found her inner strength and has found a way to go on alone.

48. What's your favorite trope to write?

Is angst a trope? PINING, then. God, I love writing two dorks in love and then keeping them apart for reasons while they just lament.

50. If you could write only angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

I mean, you all know. It'd be angst, because that's what I love and it comes more naturally to me, but it would be quite hollow without the payoff fluff in the aftermath, because I'm a big fan of breaking it to put it back together and without fluff, angst is just...bitter. But hey, if that's all I had, you can bet I'd write some bitter shit and have a grand old time.

thanks for indulging me with these trash questions I love it

#dqxi spoilers #flutiebear #asks #ask games #dqxi #fic: once upon a dream

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goforwardgreenwriter-blog · 6 years

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The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 32 - 33

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Aedion had been up half the night, debating the merits of every possible place to meet his father.

I am such a sucker for good parent/child relationships in fiction (extra bonus points if it’s adopted parents/child relationship) but honestly Assdion needs to stay the fuck away.

Beforehand Assdion put Lysandra to bet after she shifted back from some other form.

[Aedion] flipped back the crisp cotton sheets with one hand and then laid [Lysandra] down, her once-again long hair covering her high, firm breasts. So much smaller than the ones he’d first seen her with. He didn’t care what size they were—they were beautiful in both forms.

Uhhh does SJM not get how creepy this sounds? Lysandra is asleep and Aedion is staring at her boobs thinking about how beautiful they are?? God damnit SJM just stick to erotica if your characters are gonna be horny 24/7.

Lysandra made [Aedion] change out of his dirty travel clothes, barged into Aelin and Rowan’s room wearing no more than her own bedsheet, and took whatever she wanted from the Fae Prince’s armoire. Aelin’s barked Get out! was likely heard from across the bay, and Lysandra was smirking with feline wickedness as she returned, chucking the green jacket and pants at him.

This sounds like the beginning of a college fic where all the characters live in the same dorm. Not a fucking epic fantasy series constantly compared to LOTR. Tolkien must be rolling in his grave.

Dorian stirred, a cool breeze fluttering in as if his magic awoke as well, squinted at them both, then at the clock atop the mantel.

WHAT. Is this a medieval settings or not? The characters all use swords and bow and arrows and there’s hints of medieval Britain monarchies everywhere but the characters have clocks? What is this word building?

Gods, the females in his court ate more than [Aedion] did.

This is prompted after Lysandra eats breakfast. After we have already been told she burns a lot of energy with her shape shifting. Go fuck yourself, Assdion.

Aedion opened the door, finding the cadre precisely where he’d guessed they’d be at this hour: eating breakfast in the taproom. The two males halted as they entered. And Aedion’s eyes went right to the golden-haired man—one of two, but … there was no denying which one was … his.

I am actually so stressed. Either A) Aedion is gonna act like a dick to his poor father and be treated as right for it, or B) SJM is gonna turn Gav into a dick just so Aedion can angst over his daddy issues. Place your bets, folks.

“You look … ,” Gavriel breathed, sinking into his chair. “You look so much like her [Aedion’s mom].”

HHHHH SJM STOP I HATE THIS SHITTY BOOK AND ASSDION I DON’T WANT THESE FEELS....

“They could have cured [mama Aedion] in the Fae compounds, but she wouldn’t go near them, wouldn’t let them come for fear of Maeve”—[Aedion] spat the name—“knowing I existed. For fear I’d be enslaved to her as you were.”

I wish Assdion’s mom could’ve been a character, but nope, gotta kill off potentially awesome characters for the sake of main character pain. I know that’s just a thing that happens in 95% of stories at this point, but SJM literally only brings these dead characters up once or twice and it has no other impact on her main characters or the plot.

“I’m sorry,” his father said, those Lion’s eyes full of such grief Aedion wondered if he’d just struck a male already down. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” he said, turning toward the door.

Am I a dumb dumb, or... who the fuck is Assdion talking about? Is he talking about apologizing to.. Assdion’s mom? I’m so confused.

Assdion stomps out after his little tantrum. I mean, I understand why he’s upset, but... I need context? Was Gav forced to take the blood oath to Maeve, or was it his own choice? ‘Cause if it was the latter yeah he’s kinda a shitty dad, but if it’s the former, it’s not his fault??? This series is batshit confusing.

“We need them to work with us. I might have made an enemy of him.” [Lysandra] tucked her hair over a shoulder. “Trust me, Aedion, you have not. If you’d told him to crawl over hot coals, he would have.”

HHHH FUCK IT GAV IS A GOOD DAD..... I just feel so so sorry for him. He’s just a punching bag for everyone else. Protect Gav 2k18

He laughed, surprised he could even do so. “He’s a handsome bastard, I’ll give him that.” “I think Maeve likes to collect pretty men.” Aedion snorted. “Why not? She has to deal with them for eternity. They might as well be pleasant to look at.”

I mean a lot of those men have confirmed that they were forced to take the blood oath and are now basically slaves to her but sure, tee hee oh Maeve that slutty bitch, collecting only the hottest young men to enslave! Fuckin’ end me.

Bearing both Goldryn and Damaris for once, Aelin walked into the Sea Dragon two hours later and wished for the days when she could sleep without the dread or urgency of something pulling at her.

Greaaat, back to Alien’s POV.

A grand total of five minutes before Lysandra barged in, Rowan had awoken—and begun the process of awakening her, too. Slowly, with taunting, proprietary strokes down her bare torso, her thighs, accented with little biting kisses to her mouth, her ear, her neck.

EWWWWWWW if I wanted to read this shit, I’d go look up fanfiction. Preferably fanfiction with characters I’m endeared to and actually ship. Skip!

Gavriel and Fenrys were now sitting with Rolfe at the table in the back of the taproom, no sign of Aedion, both a bit wide-eyed as she swaggered in.

This is a nit pick but Gav/Fenrys always being described together irks me. They have the literal same reaction to everything. Like, are they doing this all in unison? Actually, that’s a pretty funny mental image.

Rowan took up a spot beside [Aelin] his knee brushing hers. Like even a few feet of distance was unbearable.

GDI. It’s a meeting. With a Pirate Lord. And all Rowboat can think about is getting his dick wet inside of Alien. I’m almost ready to tap out.

“What is this,” [Aelin] said, stabbing a finger near the main line of figures stretched across the middle of the continent. “It’s the latest report,” Rolfe drawled, “of the locations of Morath’s armies. They have moved into position. Aid to the North is now impossible. And they stand poised to strike Eyllwe.”

Ooo, action scene? Please action scene, I cannot handle any more scenes of these assholes being horny around one another.

Next chapter!

“Eyllwe has no standing army,” Aelin said, feeling the blood drain from her face. “There is nothing and no one to fight after this spring—save for rebel militia bands.”

Starts right where the last one left off, as per SJM’s protocol

Rowan said to Rolfe, “Do you have exact numbers?” “No,” the captain said. “The news was given only as a warning—to keep any shipments away from the Avery. I wanted their opinions”—a nod of the chin toward the cadre—“for handling it.“

??? Is it me or is this expression really fucking weird? Was “a nod of the head” not good enough?

“Why attack Eyllwe, though?” Fenrys asked. “And why move into position but not sack it?” [Aelin] couldn’t say the words aloud. That she’d brought this upon Eyllwe by mocking Erawan, because he knew who Celaena Sardothien had cared for, and he wanted to break her spirit, her heart, by showing her what his armies could do. What they would do, whenever he now felt like it. Not to Terrasen … but to the kingdom of the friend she’d loved so dearly.

Once again, we’re about to witness the destruction of a kingdom and all Alien cares about is her stupid feelings. Go fuck yourself Alien.

“You are the heir of the Mycenian people,” Aelin said. “And I have come to claim the debt you owe my bloodline on that account, too.” Rolfe did not move, did not blink. “Or were all the sea dragon references from some personal fetish?” Aelin asked.

SJM JUST USED THE WORD “FETISH” IN HER EPIC FANTASY SERIES. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

[Aelin] allowed a flicker of her magic to rise to the surface then, allowed the gold in her eyes to glow like bright flame. Gavriel and Fenrys straightened as her power filled the room, filled the city. The Wyrdkey between her breasts began thrumming, whispering.

I’m sorry, lovely readers, I keep ragging on about this, but holy fuck. I hate it so much. SJM wants this scene to be all epic and show what a special snowflake badass Alien is but then she undercuts all that supposed tension by drawing focus to her boobs I just. ajhdafdfagfds dj hdsa im b rea kin g

Alien lets loose some of her power that literally shakes the world and rings bells or some shit? idk i guess its 2deep4me

“What the rutting hell was that?” Rolfe at last demanded. Fenrys and Gavriel became very interested in the map before them. Rowan said smoothly, “Milady has to release bits of her power daily or it can consume her.”

ROWBOAT CONFIRMED FOR NICE GUY HOLY SHIT

Aedion and Lysandra arrived after some time—and her cousin only spared Gavriel a passing glance as he stood over the map and fell into that general’s mindset, demanding details large and minute. But Gavriel silently stared up at his son, watching her cousin’s eyes dart over the map, listening to the sound of his voice as if it were a song he was trying to memorize.

Gav deserves a better series than this. I want to take him, Manon, Darrow, and Rolfe away so they can be at peace. How does Darrow/Gavriel sound to everyone? Pure old dads who rule their kingdom fairly, bringing peace and prosperity forward. What a lovely image.

SJM described the meeting rather than shows. It’s basically 90% everyone gushing over how powerful Alien is. Skip!

“You once said I would pay for my arrogance. And I did. Many times. But Sam and I took on your entire city and fleet and destroyed it. All for two hundred lives you deemed less than human. So perhaps I’ve been underestimating myself. Perhaps I do not need you after all.” [Aelin] turned again, and Rolfe sneered, “Did Sam die still pining after you, or did you finally stop treating him like filth?”

Dick move, maybe, but I mean... he’s not wrong. The Assassin’s Blade is literally just Alien being pissy towards Sam for no reason and then he gets angry when their master beats lAlien’s face in (you know, what any normal functioning human being would react like) and she’s suddenly frothing at the mouth to fuck him. Maybe I should review TAB next.........

Rowboat chokes Rolfe and throws him down, and everyone smirks. How are these characters adults? They’re all written like immature teenagers. Anyways, a bell rings out, signifying something bad.

Aelin watched as black - darker than the ink that had been etched there - spread across [Rolfe’s] fingers, to his palms. Black such as only the Valg could bring.

Please action scene I can’t handle one more “witty’ “banter” conversation between these assholes

The door banged open, and Rolfe’s towering figure filled it. “You.” Aelin put a hand on her chest. “Me?”

Pfft. I hated that I snickered at this, but I always laugh at the “dramatic hand on chest” joke.

“And what of your idealism—what of that child who stole two hundred slaves from me? You’d leave the people of this island to perish?” “Yes,” she said simply. “I told you, Rolfe, that Endovier taught me some things.” Rolfe swore. “Do you think Sam would stand for this?” “Sam is dead,” she said, “because men like you and Arobynn have power. But Arobynn’s reign is now over.” She smiled at the darkening horizon. “Seems like yours might end rather soon as well.”

Sam deserves better than this. He was an okay guy to my memory - not a poisonous fuck boy like Rowboat.

“Eight warships teeming with soldiers —at least a hundred on each, more on the lower levels I couldn’t see. They’re flanked by two sea-wyverns. All moving so fast that it’s like storm winds carry them.”

FUCK YEAAAH SEA DRAGONS LETS GO

Rolfe finally breaks down and agrees to join Alien’s war effort. Love it when one of the few good characters is kicked and beaten down to prop up the despicable protagonist. Then we swap to Dorian’s POV.

Aelin was insane, Dorian realized. Brilliant and wicked, but insane. And perhaps the greatest, most unremorseful liar he’d ever encountered.

Dorian, honey, you okay? Blink twice if Alien is holding you captive.

This war would not be won on smiles and manners. It would be won by a woman willing to gamble with an entire island full of people to get what she needed to save them all.

Yeah, doesn’t that make Alien likeable! I know war involves sacrifice and death but Jesus, could she feel even a little remorse? Innocent people may die today but Aelin’s head is so far up her own ass she doesn’t even care.

Fenrys kept at a distance from the others, but Gavriel remained close, his gaze still fixed on his son. Gods, they looked so much alike, moved alike, the Lion and the Wolf.

Stop ittttt Gavriel deserves better.....

Aelin tells Dorian to stay behind and the chapter ends. God, that was a lot of bullshit in two chapters.

#the worm talks #the worm reads: eos #anti sjm #anti tog #anti eos

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shekeepsmeworms · 5 years

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Having internet access is great because you can learn about any health condition with the click of a button! Unfortunately, as a total hypochondriac, it means I can learn about any disease or condition with the click of a button! Sometimes I don’t even have to search! When I was young like idk 5 or 6 I saw some whole long infomercial thing about how like “BlOoD CaN SeEp InTo YoUr BrAiN” I still remember the fucking voice and I got so freaked that for literal MONTHS I slept with my head at like a 45 degree angle on top of a big bundled up blanket because my logic was that the gravity will like make my blood stay away from my brain and I’ll be fine that way. Did not occur once to me that all the people in the commercial were either very old or had severe head injuries because I was 6 and had more fear than sense. But also also also reasons why I’m the way I am-

My dad got cancer twice! First when I was 5! At age 7 I spent Easter at a friends house because my dad got a huge blood clot and spent the night in the er! He got cancer again at age 8 and we couldn’t even visit him for at least a month but probably longer don’t remember exactly because he had literally no immune system at all like white blood cells whom? and any germ of ours would have killed him! When I was like 13 I watched him have a grand mal seizure and be carried out of the house on a stretcher into an ambulance not knowing if he’d ever come back!

Thankfully he very much did come back and is doing well today and even driving and has been in remission for like a decade, and I’m so so so fucking lucky and fortunate and grateful that he’s been able to get the medical care to keep him kicking through all this shit, but like fuck man. I like to pretend to myself that I was totally fine watching my dad almost die like so many times growing up, but man did it really fuck me up. Like just. Shit. No wonder I can’t have a stomach ache from too much pasta without panicking that I’m having a heart attack. (That freak out was not a childhood thing! It was last month! I’m 20!) basically I need to actually talk through some of this for once and not just ignore it because it hurt and I was scared just so scared for so much of my life and while I’m so fortunate he’s alive I’m still so far from being okay or over it.

#this is long and its 2am and i needed to get this out somewhere

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taketheringtolohac · 6 years

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Rules: tag ten followers you want to know better! :)

NAME: Roxy

STAR SIGN: Leo

HEIGHT: 5 ft even :(((( its them Filipino genes

WHAT’S YOUR MIDDLE NAME? Ok technically ur not supposed to tell ppl ur middle name and i just got into an argument about this so i feel like i shouldn’t say on principle but its marie the basic bitch middle name

PUT YOUR ITUNES ON SHUFFLE. WHAT ARE THE FIRST 4 SONGS THAT POPPED UP?

Rules & Regulations- Rufus Wainwright live in Milwaukee

Drink With Me- Les Mis OBC

The Mirror Blue Night- Spring Awakening

What Would I Do?- Falsettos 2016

GRAB THE BOOK NEAREST YOU AND TURN TO PAGE 23. WHAT’S LINE 17? Ok I’m next to my shelf so there was a lot of options but I picked Girl Mans Up by M E Girard and it says “I’ll crash on Colby’s couch and sneak home in the morning, before my parents wake up” (Also! Read this book! We Love Butch Lesbian Rep)

“EVER HAD A POEM OR SONG WRITTEN ABOUT YOU? No?? I don’t think so

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU PLAYED AIR GUITAR? Oh I had to play Just Dance with my cousins and you had to do air guitar for one of the dance moves and i think that was like a week ago

WHO IS YOUR CELEBRITY CRUSH? Lupita Nyong’o god that woman has my heart (also. Patrick Ness is my other one I love him he’s my favorite writer and I’m glad he’s getting the fame he deserves)

WHAT’S A SOUND YOU HATE + SOUND YOU LOVE? Um idk? I like the sound of rolling dice bc im just a fucking nerd but i don’t like the sound of joints clicking. it just bothers me.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS? not rlly tbh. like im sure they might exist in some capacity but like lmao

HOW ABOUT ALIENS? if there are literally millions of billions of planets then there has to be aliens somewhere like there is no way that there isnt u feel

DO YOU DRIVE? lmao i have had my permit for like,,, almost a year now and i’ve practiced driving a grand total of like two times. so no.

IF SO, HAVE YOU EVER CRASHED? when youve only gone driving twice a no isnt that impressive, but for me it is bc im Really Bad

WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? oh fuck ngl i had to check goodreads for this shit but it was Love & Other Carnivorous Plants by Florence Gonsalves (it was a pretty good book, nothing to write home about but it was enjoyable. HOWEVER the book I read BEFORE that was called Autoboyography by Christina Lauren and it was GREAT I LOVED IT. Check it out yall)

DO YOU LIKE THE SMELL OF GASOLINE? absolutely not shit smells absolutely awful

WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU SAW? I just watched Grandmother’s Gold on YouTube and I fucking loved it Brian Jordan Alvarez is a funny guy

DO YOU HAVE ANY OBSESSIONS RIGHT NOW? Right now it’s board games (again) rufus wainwright and cds but tomorrow? who knows. (it’ll probably still be board games bc im in a mood where i just need to Play with people)

DO YOU TEND TO HOLD GRUDGES AGAINST PEOPLE WHO HAVE DONE YOU WRONG? I dont think so but sometimes i think i am bc i dont forget ppl who severely hurt me but then i get told thats not holding a grudge so idk man

IN A RELATIONSHIP? no lmao who has time for a relationship in this economy

@thicctaako thank u for tagging me!! we should talk bc u seem like a cool dude with good taste in books

I’m gonna tag @axolori @youllbesafeherewithme @diwata-nation @nabulungi @toast-lesbian @gaytheatrewitch @gaycism @hubriscomplex @cryptid-batman (you dont have to do it of course its only if u want!)

#thank u sm!!#lmao this bitch speaks

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team-skull-admin · 7 years

Text

Since the wonderful and inimitable @ladyzolstice is currently ALSO complaining about Rogue One (which is quite possibly my least favorite blockbuster moviegoing experience since Maleficent) I’m going to jump on the dog pile. Spoilers and negativity below the cut, nerds!

Rogue One is my exhibit A for the easiest trap for modern storytelling to get into - conflating big watercooler moments and crazy deaths for depth. Game of Thrones at its worst is the main offender here, but at its best it earns these moments by building to them slowly and fleshing out its characters via political drama. In lieu of flesh and momentum, Rogue One has given its characters the thinnest of character development and tries to ride on poorly implemented modern war metaphor and fanservice. It fails at both. The movie opens with Mad Mikkelsen arguing about Mediocre Empire Dude who wants him to build the Death Star or something so baby Jyn runs to hide in a hole in the ground until she’s fetched by Forrest Whitaker, who’s apparently friends with Mads. CUE PRESENT where Diego Luna kills a guy so we know the Death Star exists and he’s willing to do whatever it takes and Jyn is now a young adult in a prison train for some reason. Diego and slightly less violent HK-47 bust her out. I’m not going to talk about the droid anymore because Groot did a better job of making you care about it and Vin Diesel literally only had one repeated line and was a fucking tree. Now they’re on desert planet and we enter the second act of the movie, where it’s entirely clear now that someone on the movie team really, really wanted to make a serious modern war metaphor for the first time. How do we know this? Well! Forrest Whitaker is now with an extremist branch of the rebels and is barely kept alive by machines for some reason. It’s not really implied why this happens or anything, I guess the machines are supposed to indicate he got fucked up or something. Diego is taking Jyn to go see Forrest because they caught Imperial Pilot Defector who has a message from Mads about the Death Star and the fact he hid a weakness in it. They go to Desert City for reasons I would have remembered in a better movie but don’t remember in this one and meet Donnie Yen and his bro/queerbait Mandalorian Bolt Thrower. Yen’s been upgraded from “flower vase” to “Jedi stand-in” and generally does a pretty solid job with the tripe he’s given, and Mandalorian Bolt Thrower is a cool straight cop for his craziness. They both deserve a better movie than this one. They’re the best characters and get no development, although it’s possible they’re the best characters because they get no development. Anyway, after a chance run-in where Yen notices Jyn’s force crystal (aside - this is where I’d nail them for casting him as MYSTICAL MARTIAL ARTS MENTOR, but A. it’s not really my fight and B. the idea of force sensitives kinda just floating about and not knowing what the fuck but randomly pulling off crazy shit makes sense for the time period in-universe) Whitaker’s Islamic extremist metaphor attack an occupying Imperial force because this is a serious war metaphor guys and it’s been too long since we had an action sequence and the movie’s starting to get boring (it doesn’t really stop btw). Like seriously, it’s a desert town, they’re wearing robes, they’re using improvised explosives and assault weapons, there’s the token dude with the rocket launcher that’s in every Middle Eastern conflict-era war movie ever made. You could swap the guns and take out the little alien dude and stick this exact scene in an Iraq war movie and everyone’s none the wiser. So this begs the question - does this metaphor/plot thread go anywhere? Nah, not really. Yen and Bolt Thrower save the heroes from the Imperials and Whitaker’s second-in-command takes them to jail cause they killed a few rebels while caught in the crossfire. Around this point Whitaker interrogates Defector with a fucking tentacle monster with mind powers? For some reason? And this plot thread is resolved like five minutes later when Luna talks to him in the next cell and he’s suddenly fine! Who the fuck knows why that scene’s in the movie. Anyway Jyn’s like, basically cribbing from Finn’s plotline in Episode 7 the whole time except her motivations are stated less effectively and she decides to stick around cause Dad or something. Forrest Whitaker dies when the Death Star fires at desert land but it’s only about as effective as a conventional nuclear weapon because plot. I don’t remember if it’s stated why the Empire blows up their source of force crystals for shooting shit with the Death Star but that seems like a plot hole appropriate for this movie. Mediocre Imperial Man and I Don't Know His Rank at This Point but I Know Him as Grand Moff Tarkin So Let's Go With That have a conversation at this point and everyone gets weird uncanny valley feelings about Tarkin’s face. I thought it was okay, whatever. Anyway, Diego Luna has orders to kill Mads Mikkelsen for some reason even though a trained German Shepard knows it would make more sense to kidnap and torture him for info if he’s gone bad (I mean shit, there are fuckin magical mindreading tentacle monsters in canon!) so he’s awkwardly trying to sneak off to snipe Mads but OH SNAP MEDIOCRE IMPERIAL MAN IS HERE. Jyn runs off to find her dad and Yen/Bolt Thrower team up to provide fire support. Yen has a laser bow for some reason even though a gun has to be easier to aim but it looks cool so who cares. The creators have assumed you’ve gotten bored again so they shoehorned in another action scene around plot development where Mads dies because reasons. So Vader has a conversation around here and he chokes out Mediocre Imperial Man and has a punny quip about choking on your ambitions. A punny quip that’s fanservice to rehabilitate the image of an OG villian is the best part of this movie. Anyway, Diego and Jyn have an argument because character development needs to happen somehow. I guess. Idk. And they take their info about Mads back to the Rebel Base, who needs to know about the crazy thing the imperials are building now. They have an argument and like any good progressives decide to do nothing, so Jyn gives a speech and they remain good progressives and keep up the slacktivism. Diego indicates that he’s changed by rounding up a few dozen soldiers with a death wish who decide to do a poorly planned suicide mission on a major Imperial stronghold to get the Death Star plans. I assume it’s major, I mean I’d probably protect my main data center pretty heavily if I was a dictator. So they fly down to Vietnam and implement their plan - Diego and Jyn attack the data center while everyone else provides a distraction. This amounts to planting bombs everywhere and killing a few patrols to get everyone’s attention. Now, when they were planning this scene, I bet they had great expectations. We’re going to do sci-fi beach landing! This is our Saving Private Ryan! So I had to stifle a laugh when the first area of the main battle in this fucking movie is a Literal Fucking Third Person Shooter Combat Zone, complete with Completely Arbitrary Cargo Crates Conveniently Placed as Cover Points. It’s basically Virmire from Mass Effect, minus Geth. Were Geth on Virmire, I forget? Anyway, once the Rebellion figures out that a few dozen soldiers decides to commit suicide on Vietnam Virmire this INSPIRES THEM TO ACT and they...send in a bunch of their fleet to assist in the suicide mission. After deciding it was a bad idea like, a few minutes before. Completely arbitrarily. Okay. Anyway, the Game of Thrones bloodbath begins here. The Imperials close the warp gate off the planet and Pilot Defector dies plugging in a radio to let the Rebels know. Donnie Yen and Mandalorian Bolt Thrower both die after arbitrarily moving from Third Person Shooter land to a beach for reasons unexplained. Diego Luna dies TWICE: first in an Assassin’s Creed climbing sequence in the world’s most unwieldy storage room (why the fuck don’t the Imperials have like, servers?) and saves Jyn when Mediocre Imperial Man jumps her on top of the tower that holds The Inexplicable Library of Hard Drives. HK-47 dies as any good HK droid should, by killing a bunch of motherfuckers. Jyn trusts him with a pistol before this happens and in a better movie this would be touching but I never really felt like he was a threat to anybody so I didn’t care. Anyway, Jyn watches an arbitrary countdown happen and Admiral Ackbar senior gets the Death Star plans on his corvette (which fucks up two Star Destroyers by ramming into them, I admit that’s pretty cool) and the Death Star shows up to cut their losses because somehow this dumbass attack that was planned in five minutes was successful and Diego and Jyn die in a nuclear bomb’s glow, hugging. That’s actually a decent ending! Roll credits. Except nah, we totally had to arbitrarily see Vader be a horror villain and fuck shit up for thirty seconds before seeing CG Princess Leia (RIP) so Star Wars nerds get to go HA! THEY RETCONNED SHIT! and normal people don’t care. That should have been a credits stinger. Like, grow a pair and just gun for the coolest credits stinger of all time. The movie is better for it. This quickly devolved into Summary Word Vomit but Rogue One is a bad movie because it’s all bad plot and poorly executed war metaphor over character development. Episode 7 primarily worked because they did the exact opposite. We explicitly know Finn’s reasons for doing what he does, Poe’s, Rey’s. Their actions make sense, and as such their development is earned. Even Kylo Ren stares creepily at a fucked up Vader helmet for thirty seconds. I’m not saying a s serious Star Wars movie can’t work, but if you’re going to attempt it, the characters needed to interact to make the events actually matter. People like Donnie Yen and Diego Luna and Jyn because, in spite of the dour material, they’re good enough actors to get some charm to slip through. In the end, Rogue One is a movie that tells its story via a checklist rather than organically. They wanted X seriousness and Y war metaphor and Z watercooler depths, but forgot that these things work because they’re earned via character development, not in spite of it. I fucking hate this movie.

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investnlord · 7 years

Text

Favela

Hardcastle: ***

Trash.

Big smelly pile of it

Old fruit and rotten milk

Damp and hot in the tropical heat

You writhe around inside the dumpster

You're multi- thousand dollar suit ruined

Pull the rotten trash bag across you like a blanket to block out the cracks of light and traffic sounds

You are trash*

Spaghetti: assess limb status^

Hardcastle: 2 arms, 2 legs, 10 fingers, 9 toes

All there*

Spaghetti: assess own species^

Hardcastle: Hume*

Spaghetti: excellent

it is i

the human

here to take ass and kick names

i want to get out of this dumpster

this hellhole

i want to feel

human again

remove trash bag

Hardcastle: (rise)

Spaghetti: assess clothing situation^

Hardcastle: (RISE)

Hardcastle: You sit up and flip a banana peel off your formerly immaculate shirt

You would look like a day-trader save for your filthy body and your missing shoes

You hear the cacophony of the noisy street beyond the alley

You notice the tan line on your wrist indicating your watch is gone*

Spaghetti: hmm

maybe i've been robbed

boondoggled

left for dead

or at least dirty

either way i want my revenge

assess socio-economic situation

basically - which kind of food place am i going to here i got a powerful hunger and i don't think Tito's Valu-Meal leftovers is gonna cut it

jk haha he doesn't ever have leftovers

fatty fat-ass tito*

Hardcastle: Big ol' Teets

You are in

Super poor town

The Favela

Where you eat off the…

Well…

napkin

Spaghetti: man hmm ok

let's hit

the bodega

where i will get

bodega food

exit dumpster, what's nearby^

Hardcastle: The bodega

A man is playing street drums

Do you enter?*

Spaghetti: fuck yeah street drums

LOVE me some street drums

i bust a move as i enter

the bodega^

Hardcastle: That sweet sweet A/C hits you like ballsack

Spaghetti: (i love.. cold ballsack)

Hardcastle: neatly stacked piles of everyday items

A hairy man eyes you over a magazine

-flips-*

Spaghetti: i don't like this guy

the way he eyes me

over his copy of Look magazine

i want my takis fuego corn chips

navigate to chip aisle^

Hardcastle: You see all the crunchies

they have

los chips

frito lay

…

Marcas

portuguesas

Pringles

A dead dove

Cracker Jack

Whatever you need*

Spaghetti: all of them

i need all of them

stuff them in my shitty shit shirt and run out

i have things to do!^

Hardcastle: You fill up until you look like a waddling scuba diver

and you crinkle as you slip out the door

The man calls out to you

first annoyed

then furious

you hear more voices join him as you shuffle out the door

You stand on the hot sidewalk of a busy street

Children are kicking a hard- used futbol as a car honks trying to idle past

Hookers smoke on the corn outside the bodega you just exited

A pharmacist across the street is yelling at a customer

As you finish panning the scene you feel the vice grip of a large hairy hand on your shoulder*

Spaghetti: not on my watch

Offer him a single frito

High-tail

It*

Hardcastle: He's startled as you pop the bag open

The frito smell wafts into the local atmosphere with that

sultry corn chip allure

Chochaco is taken aback by the sudden effrontery of having a single frito curl flicked at his gob

It bounces off his nose and a beautiful tropical crow snatches it inches about the sidewalk

This moment stretches out in text but you've already hot footed it a block by the time the indignity settles in

You hear yelling and samba

Something whizzes past your ear

Spaghetti: (The frito?)

Hardcastle: Followed by a hollow crack of a pistol shot*

Hardcastle: (not a frito)

Spaghetti: (Oh no)

Spaghetti: Assess ear status^

Hardcastle: (don't die in the favela Spaghetti)

Spaghetti: (I'm getting the fuck out of this favela)

Spaghetti: (But I need to check on my ear)

Spaghetti: (It's my favorite ear)

Hardcastle: Ear is like itchy

but not injured

He may not miss twice

You duck into an alley

Classic move

They run past thinking you're clever

You have a moment to breathe*

Spaghetti: Cool ok

Totally eared up

Yeah boyo

Do a quick flex

Get the cool juices flowin

Cuz I'm onto

the whores

Take me to the whore bodega!^

Bourbon: (Spaghetti why are you using a caret)

Bourbon: (where is the traditional *)

Spaghetti: (Idk I can go back)

Spaghetti: (I prefer the traditional)

Bourbon: (no i mean whatever i was just curious)

Spaghetti: (I was confusing it for when we do a three way

Spaghetti: I see that it is just the two of us and I can do what is right)

Spaghetti: Take me to the whore bodega!*

Hardcastle: You kinda sneak back onto the main drag

Crinkling all the way you chip hoarding slut

criminal

You head back to the currently unoccupied scene of the crime

Hoes be hoe'in

A big booty with bangs clicks her tongue and beckons you over

You into it?*

Spaghetti: I am the chip slut

And I've come for my whores!

I think I'm into it

How grand is the Kiester?*

Hardcastle: Oh man

You ever go to the pumpkin patch

It's just poised there

I mean those booty shorts must be

stressin'

Spaghetti: (Are they even shorts)

Hardcastle: (They're riding too high)

Hardcastle: She's running her bejeweled hand up and down your stomach all hola

The chips are turning into more chips and those chips are turning into dust

Spaghetti: (RP chat gettin racy)

Spaghetti: (nice)

Hardcastle: She's wanting to take this upstairs to negotiate

Hardcastle: (We've been here before actually)

Hardcastle: The street is eerily quiet

People darting inside

Western movie style

What do you do?*

Spaghetti: This is a god damn stick up

I never found my lot in life

Never figured out my purpose

But

I feel like I remember my.. ancestors?

Father

Dad

Telling me

go with the whore

I go upstairs*

Hardcastle: Hell

Yes

Aight she's all leading you

Over to the door

with the stairs that go up up up

into the dumpy hole of this bad neighborhood

you feel the heat of midday and your garbage shirt is sticking to your pits and low back

nasty

a bag of chips slips to the ground you filthy animal

do you bend to snag it up or do you press on with the lady (ha)?*

Spaghetti: Dad never said it'd go like this

But here I am

Shirt from yesterday's binge

Cheetohs from today's cringe

Fuck it

Man what she know the difference

aight*

Hardcastle: (so... so you press on)

Hardcastle: (you leave the chips)

Hardcastle: (right?)

Spaghetti: I wish to press the chips onto her

Hardcastle: (so you go with her)

Spaghetti: There's no one to trust not even my brain

i go with Flo*

Hardcastle: Aight okay we're going with that

You step over the bag and it disappears from your life forever

but there are more

you took a lot of chips no wonder dude was pissed off

thief liar

…sinner

She's into it though you can tell you're totally getting a discount

not sure about the food play but whatever man

let's see

She takes you into a little knocking shop- looking corner and just grinds that big booty on your chips

the crinkling drives you insane

She gets a handful of frito dust and blows it in your face

Spaghetti: (this is what a preteen thinks sex is like)

Hardcastle: As you clear your eyes you see a man- willowy, blond, in a white suit with gold framed aviators

A semi-automatic pistol in his waistband visible as he reclines watching the show

He's grinning a big ol' evil grin but says nothing

There is a very loud banging on the door beside you. Someone who is pissed and wants in. What do you do?*

Hardcastle: (shit sorry that's so much)

Spaghetti: Uhh

Man

This is a dude

flo is nowhere to be found

This guy looks familiar

I look at him

"Dad?"

I open the door*

Hardcastle: In flies Sr. Bodega

All 300 hairy lbs

Spaghetti: (Fuck)

Hardcastle: He is

FURIOUS

roaring at you just

garbled speech making no sense

his spittle sprays you and more frito salt stings your nostrils

aunt flo booty has split

parts unknown maybe a trapdoor

who knows how hookers do this

Big man (although he certainly isn't large) is just chucking maniacally at being called "Dad"

Sr. Bodega is choking the fuck out you slamming your head into a wall

Mr. Blond says something in Portuguese and the bodega giant hesitates and looks back at him

and at the semi-automatic which has materialized in his hand

Before you know it he's out of the chair and across the room caving the ogre's nose in

There's scream and wail as Blond looks to you and drops the shades

"Been looking for you, man"

"All over"

"Shit... sorry you got your cock blocked"

His eyes widen like a terrified whippet "Do you want to finish him off?"

He offers you the ivory handled .45*

Spaghetti: Fuck

Spaghetti: I ain't never iced a dude before

Spaghetti: I don't think I..

Spaghetti: hah

Spaghetti: Fuck

Spaghetti: Aim

Spaghetti: Fire*

Hardcastle: Oh shiiiiiiiiiiii-

You snatch the gun from B-Bro's hand

He titters like a madman as you place it to the screaming man's dome

and pull the trigger

Blond pats his knees and stands to leave

He beckons for you to follow

You see out of a corner window blind there is a large black Escalade outside*

Hardcastle: (Question here is do you follow?)

Spaghetti: I don't think this is my dad

But I sure ain't got a lot of choice

Follow the man*

Hardcastle: He leads you down and into the Escalade

The A/C blasts you Mr. Freeze and you smell yourself against the rich Corinthian leather

Trashman

Who murdered a chip vendor in cold blood

Spaghetti: (Look)

Spaghetti: (Ok?)

Spaghetti: (Ok)

Hardcastle: As the vehicle rolls away you see the flames licking up the side of the building

Another trash fire in the favela

You are moving to the {Heist}

{Heist} will dehumanize yourself and face to the bloodshed

Spaghetti: (See here I think I won)

Hardcastle: Mr. Blond takes his pistol back

Spaghetti: (We pulled off the Great Crisp Caper)

Hardcastle: and wipes the blood with a hanky

He's got something much bigger for you*

Hardcastle: ***

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