#fighting for my life etc etc

[narcolini]

caught out

frank castle x gn!reader, 1164 words

warnings for canon typical behaviours, reader’s one of the bad guys basically

for day 29 of whumpril: surrender & ‘final warning’

a/n: honestly i was almost tempted to make this into an oc fic becaue id made the reader character so fun and specific buuut i dont have the time or facilities to right now BUT maybe i will return to the idea in the future 👀 ps. love you madani im so sorry sweetie

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @ashlingiswriting @hausofmamadas​ 

You’ve got a sight on her. Quite literally, your sight is lined up with the back of her head. Through the window she’s dumb enough to leave open after dark, curtains pinned back by the sides still. You adjust your grip. Your hands on the sniper, the rifle’s belly on the ledge, your knee in the gravel covering the roof-top. It’s a perfect shot from the perfect position. Better than you’ve ever had, and ever will again, really. Not by fucking luck, but patience, of course. Sheer fucking will.

You take a moment to check the sound again, turning up the volume of the radio pack attached to your waist. It crackles to life into your ear piece. Still watching television, Madani? A movie by the sounds of it—action, with a loud soundtrack, and louder gunshots. She’s still alone, still fixing her eyes to the phone in her hand. There’s no reason to wait. Distracted, unaccompanied, clueless. It’s all set up, just how you intended.

You stretch your trigger finger out, then put it back into place. Take a breath, exhale—completely. Hold.

‘Put it down.’

You freeze, because what the fuck else can you do, when there’s a gun set to curve of your skull, and a cold voice from behind you? There shouldn’t be anyone else up here, wasn’t, until now. And you hadn’t heard him approach, because of the fuzzing movie in your head.

You know who it is, of course, because it’s always Frank lately. If not for you, then for anyone else you talk to. He’s quicker than the cops nowadays. Has fucked up more plans and schemes, and just-fucking-revenge than anyone on Madani’s team.

He reaches around to tug the ear piece free of your ear, tossing it to the ground. ‘You didn’t hear me?’

‘I was on the phone,’ you lie, putting no effort at all into making it convincing. You’re leaning away from the sight now, looking at Madani’s apartment with just your own eyes, and watching her move from the couch, away from the window. He’s made you lose your chance. Stolen the moment from under you. You sigh. ‘You messed up my shot, dude.’

He doesn’t laugh—because of course not. Too serious for his own good. He already has you, he may as well take a load off.

‘Try wearing black next time,’ he comments, dryer than you were.

‘You mean camo doesn’t work in urban environments?’ You try to look back at him, just for the nose of his pistol to push your head forward again. Chin almost into your chest. Fucking ow, he could break the skin doing that. ‘Thought we had the same goal, Castle,’ you say, altering your angle. ‘I do this, and you got one less bloodhound on your trail.’

They’ve got him in the news now. Face on every TV screen. With Madani dead, it’d be a Hell of an easier job for him to do the same. Fake death, new life, start all over. He should be begging you, honestly. Should be lining your rifle back up and giving you a countdown.

‘Final warning.’ The gravel crunches as he stresses it, bringing himself closer. ‘Hands up.’

For a moment, you consider testing him. How final is final, after all? Boot to your shoulder, rifle forced to the floor, final? Or you over the edge of the fucking building, a pancake on the ground below, before you’ve even had chance to fight back, final?

‘Alright.’ You straighten, lifting both palms to the air by your head, so the gun swings loose on its strap. Over your shoulder like a birthday sash. ‘No killing today.’

He grabs you before you can even finish your laugh. Turns you roughly, violently, until you’re on your ass, back to the short wall between you and the sidewalk, ten stories beneath. He’s knelt like you were now, in your spot, with his fist twisting in the material of your collar. Knuckles to the bone, face inches from yours. Jesus, you pant a laugh, you’ve already conceded. There’s no need for all this. If he wants to make-out, he should’ve just said so.  

‘Y’know,’ you say, smiling through the ache in your back, and the pressure he’s applying to your chest, ‘I think we’d make a great team. If we worked together.’

‘I work alone.’

‘Eh, but that’s not true, is it, Frank?’

His eyes squint a fraction, then flick away from you. Then he’s talking over your shoulder like you aren’t even there. ‘Yeah, well, you’d be the last name on my list if I needed help.’

‘But I make the list?’ You suck a breath through your teeth. ‘Damn, I’m better than I thought.’

He pushes against you again, gaze coming back to yours. Fun’s over. You can see it in his face. You’re one sarcastic comment away from a bloody nose, a black eye. ‘What’s your deal with Madani?’ he asks. Right to the point.

You wind your head to the side. ‘That’s classified, I’m afraid.’ And it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Your vendettas are no less worthy than his own. ‘You wanna fight for it? Loser tells all their secrets?’

His fist turns another fraction, the cotton around your throat tightens.

‘Sure,’ you pant, ‘choke me out. But you gotta stick around til I wake up again.’ You paint a smile onto your lips that you know, you know, pisses him off, just for fun of it. ‘I don’t wanna miss saying goodbye.’

You watch the cogs turn, slow behind his eyes. He’s debating it, that’s for certain. Make you pass out, or bring you with him. Hell, maybe going other the edge is still an option, you should never assume death is out of the question for him.

Eventually, after thirty—two minute long—seconds, he grunts, pulling you up as he stands. No free-fall sky diving for you today. He’s dragging you back with him toward the rooftop’s exit, feet stumbling after his own. You’re trying to stay parallel with him, or even walk ahead to gain some advantage, but you can’t fucking get your feet straight under yourself. Boots catching, rifle nose bouncing by your knees. He may as well have knocked you out. It’d be smoother for him to drag you by the heel, than continue like this.

‘You don’t wanna talk?’ he says. ‘Fine, I got time.’

‘You gonna torture it out of me, Frank?’ He hasn’t hit you yet, he’s barely even grabbed you hard enough to leave a mark that’ll last. ‘Somehow I don’t believe you.’

‘Yeah,’ he breathes a laugh, ‘that’ll change.’

And is it wrong to say you’re excited, just a bit, in a weird, fucked up kind of way? That you hope he’s actually right? That his threats become real and he forces the answers out of you, somehow. That you get to see the Punisher, finally, in all his bloodied glory.  

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 5 - I Finally Finished the 2.2 Main Quest Edition

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 6]

[hychlorions]

. what are we

[rcbertleckie]

HBO WWII REWATCH week five · tuskegee airmen

[shallowseeker]

I'm breaking this one out by itself because it's a little funny.

*Dean's phone rings*

*Dean answers without looking*

*Dean proceeds to yell at Cas*

Ah, right. What could possible be so important?

/////

Sam goes on to tell Dean that *drumroll* Sam is Lucifer's true vessel.

WOW! Scary!

DEAN: *sarcastically* Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh Sammy? SAM: That's it? That's your response?

It's... completely lost of Sam, though, the REASON for Dean's sarcasm.

See. It's this: now that Sam's found out that HE'S a vessel, he's in his car, an absolute FIRE lit under his goddamned tail, EAGER to get back in and fight.

Sam.

SAMMY.

🤦🤦🤦🤦

Dean throws a hint.

DEAN: *sarcastically again* I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point. SAM: Well what are we gonna do about it?

And Sam... still doesn't get it.

Sigh.

Here's the thing. Sam wasn't panicking when they learned that Dean was a vessel. Only Cas and Bobby were panicked and stressed. They were mean, but they were at least aware of the reality of things.

But Sam.

Yes, Sam was going through things, struggling with things, and taking time to go through things is okay. But on the other hand, it definitely still hurts that Sam wasn't insisting on staying in the fight on Dean's behalf, to protect Dean from becoming a vessel.

But now that Sam's learned that he's a vessel?

Boom.

It's not even that, though. It's this whole conversation.

Because what's missing here? Empathy for Dean's plight.

Sam doesn't realize that this is why he's perpetually at... the kids' table. This right here.

In this whole conversation, Sam is eaten up with ranting about his own feelings, about how he's sick of being a puppet, and how he's going to hunt Lucifer down and gain redemption.

Sam's all about "how he can do this," how he's "gonna prove it to you."

It makes him seem a lot younger than he is.

....

There's no acknowledgment of how helpless Dean must have been feeling all this time, knowing that he's been targeted by an archangel, about how scary this whole thing is.

Hell, even Cas acknowledged Dean's fears re: Michael.

I mean: He did it in his Cas way, but it still acknowledged the enormity of the fear.

Cas:

///

Meanwhile, Sam back in 5x01, right after DEAN learned about being Michael's vessel: Geez, why is everyone so cranky and stressed?

🥺Dean, what do you mean that you didn't mean your pep talk to Bobby? Whaaaat? 🥺

///

....

And the thing is. Not "getting it"? That's understandable. But this conversation is just... devoid of support for Dean.

And they're not. Sam's zapping all the strength for himself.

When they've been together lately, Dean is the big brother who lends support, and Sam isn't giving anything back. Sam's out to prove himself, not to support others.

And they tell older siblings and parents to be patient, to let them learn, to step back and forgive, to be "a soft place to land."

That's hard to do. And it's exhausting.

And aside// Sam's apology to (demon) Bobby was SO MUCH NICER. Sam, where is this humility and energy for other people????

SAM: No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry. Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal. I killed her, and I set Lucifer free. You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on. I'm sorry.

[definitelynotshouting]

Through the Looking Glass, Darkly

Summary:

“... Alright!” Impulse’s voice echoes over itself in a multi-layered choir, bouncing off half-ragged walls and burrowing in amongst the sculk. “Well, she could definitely use a bit of an updo, but… yeah! Here it is!” At the center of Forgery's former lair, ravenous fingers have already punched their way into stone, scrawling up the vaulted walls in strange, fungal swoops—letters without language, glyphs without meaning. Hemmed in by something akin to thick, yellow limestone, the malignant mixture in the cistern below them undulates in time with every echo—and when Gem peers into it, locks her gaze with that yearning abyss, her skin begins to crawl. Impulse had called it the Catalyst. Gem calls it for what it really is: Hungry.

[ START | PREVIOUS | NEXT ]

[ MERCH ] [ MISC ]

Hey gang!! Today's posting day for my solo piece for @hotguycomiczine, so here it is!! I hope you guys enjoy it, ive worked super hard not just on the fic but also on the formatting and picture that ive made to go along with it!!! 💀💀💀💀 yeah i uh. i edited and then drew over that to make it look like sculk. yeah i did that all on my phone last night. you can imagine how bad my neck hurts right now

as always, reblogs are deeply appreciated, and comments on ao3 or in the tags will earn you my undying gratitude and also this free sculk sample over here shhhh dont question it just take it<3 i hope you guys like the new formatting style im trying out, and of course the fic itself!! enjoy!!! :DD

[vcrnons]

COME, COME INTO MY _WORLD.

[coyoteworks]

[sanchoyoscribbles]

maybe link should consider that I filled my inventory with salted milky smoothies right before the fight and spent all that time leveling up the sword and energy gauges tho ...🥲

[greenerteacups]

oooh please someday tell us what you think of GOT

oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.

SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)

so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!

so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.

the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!

now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.

here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.

but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.

so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.

anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.

[lunarharp]

you n me

[02511213942]

"Are we going to watch the ball drop? I want to make a wish."

happy new year, foxes!!! 🎆🎊🧡

[kisskalori]

i was trying really hard to draw roshi earlier but it ended up looking really bad so now I’m in level 10 defeat mode (immense misery). everybting hurts so bad. matties unrelated but the misery carried on to himand I couldn’t really stop it

[sallytwo]

... The poem may be an elegy for childhood losses.

(On Dream Song 29, Thomas Travisano)

[koukaaa-descent]

so the poll was a mix of 'yes make them kiss' and the secret third thing

this is like passionate wild kissing with Tongue to me. it may not have the explicit gesture itself but this mere concept fucks me up worse than kissing. It's like I was looking at something I shouldn't be looking at the entire time I was making this. It felt like I was intruding on a private moment

[ruvviks]

finally got around making a proper outfit reference sheet for nathan! he likes wearing dark clothes which really emphasizes just how pale he is. he was a STEM developer at MOBIUS for nine years what did you expect </3 click for higher resolution and to get a closer look at all the details! outfits from left to right: his gear for the evil within 2, 1am convenience store trip, his mobius gear, and an improvised outfit for my own fictional the evil within 3 =^)

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@jacobseed, @swordcoasts