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Floyd x Creek shipper simply because of how funny it is . Floyd is genuinely a very kind and understanding person but then Creek enters the vicinity and Floyd has to physically restrain himself from saying something completely out of pocket about Creek's eyebrows and how he speaks . Asshole 4 lovebird and its not Creek who's the asshole
#GIVE ME ASSHOLE FLOYD NOW#HE'S SARCASTIC AND WITTY he just has sm care in his heart . please put him in a room w someone he feels little sympathy for#who in my head is . creek . like Floyd TRIES because hey theres !! good in everyone !! im sure his good is just REALLY well hidden#but creek is simply like a dickhead#starztalks#also parallels since ummmm . they were in similar situations but creek sold them out and floyd would NEVER dream of doing that#and begged Velvet to leave his brothers alone#so Creek cant pull the “you dont understand what it was like the kind of PRESSURE i was under” because YEAH HE DOES .#so now Creek has to think critically about himself ♡ and maybe be an acceptable dickhead#am I making sense here . am i just yapping off to nobody#I love talking to myself in tags god bless
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Colin Hughes - 58
Or, just in case you need an alternative,
Moe Bumbercatch - 95
...I did both
Fic requests based on my Spotify Wrapped: Colin Hughes and Sleepyhead by Passion Pit
You were one inch from the edge of this bed, I drag you back; a sleepyhead
Light creeks the window. His pillow is soft and warm. The man he loves is sleeping next to him. Colin Hughes the day after West Ham.
"Hi," he whispers to Michael. His boyfriend. His boyfriend he kissed in front of the whole world with no fear. His boyfriend who loves him.
"Morning," Michael says, back pressing to Colin's chest.
"Was yesterday real?" Colin asks. He still doesn't quite believe it. The excitement, the love, the catharsis, the kiss. My god, what a kiss.
Fourteen year old Colin dated a girl named Clair simply to hide. She didn't deserve it. Colin was scared, and boys talked. 18 year old Colin told a guy he hooked up with if he ever told anyone he'd beat him to death. 23 year old Colin cried in the shower every day for a week straight. Yesterday, Colin kissed a man in front of the world.
"It was. Go back to bed. It's early," Michael says.
Colin smiles and leans in to kiss his boyfriends shoulder blade. He goes back to sleep. It's the first day of the rest of his life, and he's sleeping with his boyfriend in his arms. Light shines in the window. The bed is still warm. Colin Hughes is alive and finally free to be.
.-.-
Fic request based on my Spotify Wrapped: Moe Bumbercatch and Experimental Film by They Might Be Giants
You’re all gonna be in this experimental film. And even though I can’t explain it. I already know how great it’s gonna be
"Do you always have to bring that everywhere?" Thierry asked him on the bus. "I feel like I'm the black guy having a foreboding moment in a horror movie."
"Good on you, Thierry," Jan butted in, "I didn't think you knew the word foreboding."
Thierry flipped him off. It was all captured on Moe's CX404 Handycam, which is his newest toy. Moe collected hobbies like a rich twelve year old collects Pokémon cards. Fast and with love.
"I'm making a film," Moe responded. "You're all in it."
"Like a documentary? I did not sign any release forms for you to sell my image," Jan said, the antagonist.
"It's a home movie, dickhead, and it's more an experimental documentary if I have to classify it." Moe knew a great deal about experimental documentaries, and was well acquainted with Barbara Hammer's filmography to boot.
"I expect residuals," Jan said. Prick.
Moe enjoyed having a camcorder with him when hanging out with friends. Something with limited storage that required setup. What images were worth capturing, and what story was he telling? Sure, plenty of the guys had taken videos of Jamie prank calling Roy from Richard's hotel balcony at 1 in the morning, but was that worthy of filming on his camcorder? Was that more the filmmaking of Jeff Tremaine than Barbara Hammer? He had to pick who he felt he aspired to be. Pick what to capture.
Isaac scrolling on his phone. Jamie spaced out. Jan and Richard arguing. Thierry sleeping on the floor between two vacant beds. Dani slowdancing while holding a pillow to his chest. Sam's smile while he notices he's being filmed.
His friends will take up 1.5 terabytes on his micro sdxc card. Jeff and Anders playing Ninja. Kukoč jumping on Winchester's back. Robbie filming him back with his phone. Paul pretending to be annoyed that Tom's asleep on his shoulder. Arlo trying to rap. Jan complaining again that he refuses to have his image in Moe's "dumb movie." Sam holding up a mirror so Moe could be in the movie too.
He didn't know what story he was telling. But he already knew how great it was.
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four christmases
pairing: ransom drysdale x reader
warnings: slight violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS
word count: 16k
description: part 2 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now,the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale. These are the four christmases you’ve spent with the thrombey/drysdale clan during your times of service.
a/n: this story is brought to you by season 4 of schitt’s creek and maybe 12 cups of coffee. it felt like it took forever to write, but i’m happy to bring it to you. this is the follow up for my other ransom one-shot ‘the assistant’. i hope you guys like it!
2018
What a fucking asshole.
“You have to be there, it’s your job.” Ransom huffed indignantly. You rolled your eyes from the passenger seat of his beamer, tablet open in your lap as you scrolled through your sister’s amazon wishlist.
“I have a family too Ransom. I can’t just abandon my own family on Christmas just because you can’t get along with yours.” His knuckles turned white against the gear shift. Nothing else mattered, only him it seemed, and his whining Mommy complex.
“You were hired to assist me,” Ransom pulled into the drive of his house, tires crunching on the gavel, “So assist.” What a fucking tool. He quickly exited the car not looking behind him to see if you were following into the house, but leaving the front door wide open with the expectation that you were coming right behind.
You had just hopped onto this assistant gig a few months ago. There you were minding your own business as fall began, working for a temp agency, when Linda Drysdale rang you up and asked you to come work for the family again. You had recently been tutoring one of the youngest of the clan, Meg, with her English coursework for her last school year. The pay was good and you were kind of let down when they opted not to keep you on after summer concluded.
Babysitting Ransom paid well, better than it had been to help Meg out, but was it really worth the price? Ransom was a fucking child. You cooked his meals, washed his laundry, and were forced to tail him as he went about whatever business he deemed worthy of his days. Just until 9 pm, that’s all you had to do. Twelve hours a day, five days a week. Off Sundays and Mondays.
It felt like too much and not worth the paycheck. Even if the trust-fund asshole spent his days flirting around from one party to the next. More often than not he found himself a body to bring home leaving you to get an uber back to his place just so you could get your car to go home, or worse yet having you sit awkwardly in the backseat of the car as whoever was in the passenger seat desperately tried to give him road head.
He loved it. You know he did. Eyes flitting to yours in the rear-view mirror as a girl ten years younger than him fumbled with his belt. A fucking smirk on his face. You wanted to punch him, but your sister’s private school tuition held you back.
You followed him into the house, one you had just spent the entire morning cleaning as Ransom slept off his hangover. The prick had dropped his coat on the floor adjacent to the coat hook, shoes haphazardly kicked off beside it, glaring at him as you picked them up while he drank orange juice straight from the carton.
“I’ll pay you time and a half if you come.” He bartered.
“You don’t pay me anything,” You scoffed. “Your Mom pays me.”
“Exactly.” He tossed the carton back in the fridge, coming around the counter to get closer to you. He dropped his voice in what he probably thought was a seductive whisper. The fire it lit in your core would lead you to believe that it actually was a seductive whisper and you just fucking hated him. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He drug a finger down your cheek softly. It only caused you to roll your eyes, batting his finger away and stripping yourself of your coat you turned back to him,
“I want triple.”
Your sister was going to be pissed, but she’ll survive once she realizes you were able to get her a new laptop for school. A compromise.
She cried.
The Thrombey’s were probably the worst people you’ve ever met in your entire life. Harlan was prideful, pompous. He cared about his family, to an extent. He created them after all, his monsters.
Linda was okay, but she was a lot like her father. She felt as though she was better than everyone else simply because she ‘built herself from the ground up’ yeah, if the ground was a million dollars gifted from Daddy. Her husband, Richard, was a glorified sugar baby, you were sure at one point he was a real estate broker, but Linda had the business, he just rode on her coattails.
Walt was a whiny bastard. He was meek. He walked around with a cane and you weren’t sure he even needed it. It could totally be a ploy to try and gain more sympathy from his father. His wife was a drunk, you couldn’t remember her name, but it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t talk to you anyway. You can’t talk if you always have your mouth wrapped around the lip of a martini glass. Their son, Jacob, was a little alt-right shit. Every comment that came out of his mouth was a dig on some less privileged 99% and if you didn’t need this job you’d shove his head in the toilet yourself.
That leads you to Joni and Meg. Joni and Ransom had both been given an allowance every month. That’s the way they were mostly the same. How they differed was that Joni was at least attempting to have some sort of entrepreneur business where she gained some income, but not enough to live the lifestyle she was accustomed to. She had Meg in this expensive ass private school that cost more than your salary a month and Meg found this group of liberal women and now she was becoming the extreme opposite of Jacob. They often bumped heads, with Meg slowly giving in. She always gave in. This was her family and as much as she wanted to fight for the 99% she never actually wanted to be one.
But it was fine.
It didn’t really matter.
You just wanted to go home.
Ransom hasn’t had an empty hand all day thanks to you. “If I’m ever without a drink,” He said on the way over, “You’re walking home.” So this is where you’re standing, with Marta and Fran, you sipping on a weak mimosa that Marta had compromised on, waiting for the day to be over.
Ransom’s eyes met yours from across the room, hand raising his glass, the last little mouthful swishing against its side. You sighed and rolled your eyes, turning to grab the decanter behind you, walking over to fill his glass. “So I told him to shove it up his ass,” Linda was telling Harlan a story, “If you think for one moment I would give in to anything less than market price you’re out of your mind.” Please love me, she was saying, please see that I’m the best child you have. Harlan’s eyes were dazed, not looking at hers. Thinking. He was always thinking.
The only time Ransom didn’t need you was when he disappeared into his Grandfather’s office. Presents were handed out just before, new iphones, apple watches, macbooks, cartier bracelets, rolexes, a couple of little bonus checks to their allowances, the spirit of Christmas was definitely lost on this family.
It doesn’t matter.
You had just filled Ransom’s glass before he entered the study and you knew he wouldn’t need you until some kind of argument broke out with his Grandfather and you had to be ready to leave the house at a moment’s notice.
“How’s it goin’ kid?” Richard always kind of made you uncomfortable. He seemed normal, but you were uncomfortable in a ‘this is a rich older white man who liked to corner you alone’ kind of way. For the most part he’s been harmless.
One time, this was early on when you first started to tutor Meg, he found you in a similar way. Alone, in the kitchen. This was one of the first times he had met you and he was sure to let you know, “You’ve got a really pretty face, you know that?” Ew. Thanks? He had gotten close, too close. “How’d a pretty girl like you end up as a tutor?” That’s worse. And cheesy. This looked like one of those times, except he’d been drinking since 8 am.
“I’m fine thanks.” You had been trying to find a minute of peace. There was always someone talking in this house, during ‘debates’ there were usually three or four. This was supposed to be a break. Ransom having been passed off to another wet nurse he could suck off of while you got some rest, and maybe sneak a couple of those expensive chocolate artisanal cookies for good measure. Richard grinned at you, not in the way Ransom would when he was fucking with you, but something more predatory. He was feeling ambitious.
“I just wanted to give you this,” He slipped an envelope across the counter to you, hand resting on it, waiting for you to take it. As your hand met the envelope, he did the fucking worst thing he could possibly do in this moment, and took your hand. Your heart was racing and you felt wildly uncomfortable. He held your hand, taking a step into your space, body crowding yours against the counter. You stared him down, please just let me go. Please just fucking let me go. “How’s my son treating you?” He asked. What exactly did he think you were doing for his son?
“Fine.” You swallowed harshly. Please just let me go. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, face coming closer to yours.
“If you ever need anything…” Closer and closer. You wished you could pull back completely, get out of this situation, but the vice grip he currently had on your hand was making it difficult.
“Y/N.” Your eyes snapped over to the doorway, Ransom. His jaw was clenched, face flushed from what you were sure was an argument with Harlan. “We’re leaving.” Richard turned and smiled at his son, releasing your hand. You quietly slipped the envelope into your jeans pocket, backing yourself away from him, and joining Ransom across the room where his eyes hadn’t yet left his father. It wasn’t until you made it to the front door, grabbing your coat from the coat rack did he stomp his way out of the house, digging his car keys from his pockets.
“Ransom I don’t think you should be driving-” You started, but he turned to you, eyes wild. This scared you.
“Get in the car.” He demanded. Fuck, he’s drunk.
“Ransom you’re drunk, you can’t drive right now.” His eyes looked behind you and you turned to look at his family, peeking out through the curtains to watch the show. He quickly grabbed your arm, tugging you to the passenger seat, wrenching the door open and shoving you in, slamming the door behind you to circle around to the drivers side. “Just let me drive.” You pleaded. He slammed his own car door, revving the engine and quickly whipping the car out of the driveway.
He wasn’t saying anything and Ransom always had something to say.
“Ransom-”
“Shut the fuck up.” His knuckles were white against the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead as he began gaining speed.
60 mph,
65 mph,
70…
“Slow down!” He was scaring you, these roads were winding and dark, his high beams only did so much and you weren’t sure how many deer you’d be seeing tonight. His foot was heavy on the accelerator.
75
80
85
“Ransom please!” You cried. His breathing was heavy. His eyes were moving wildly left to right as he moved the wheel to turn.
90
95
100
You were going to die. This was it, this was the end. The car hit the open road, the interstate, and to the left of the on ramp you had just flew through was a cop. Their lights started flashing, red and blue filling the car as Ransom kept accelerating. It wasn’t late at night, probably around nine or so. There were other cars here as Ransom kept gaining speed, swerving in and out of traffic. “You’ve got to pull over!” You yelled at him.
105
110
115
“Ransom for the love of god, fucking stop!” His eyes looked in the rearview, two cops now. It was then he began to slow down, moving over to the side of the road, your heart still racing in your chest. You relax your fingers which you didn’t even realize was gripping Ransom’s bicep in a steel grip. Both of you breathing heavily inside the car. It wasn’t until the cop heavily banged on the window that either of you even moved.
“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.” A bright flashlight in your face as you dug around for his registration and insurance in the glove box. Exiting the car and circling to the trunk as Ransom was handing the four cops bills from his money clip. Why the fuck did Ransom have a money clip full of hundreds? Ransom’s eyes met yours as he stuffed his money clip back in his coat pocket before tossing you the keys which you caught awkwardly.
“Take me home.”
You looked over at the cops who were getting back in their squad cars before quietly getting in the driver's seat and shutting the door. Your heart was still pounding and as the adrenaline began wearing off you suddenly grew very tired.
“Drive.” You didn’t want to hear his voice. You never wanted to see his face again. You never even wanted to hear his name again.
“You’re the fucking worst.” You could feel yourself crying. That was the most terrifying experience you’ve ever had in your life.
“Well you’re fucking my father so,” He sunk down in his seat. “I think I have some competition.”
“I’m not fucking your father!” You exclaimed, hand hitting the steering wheel. You hear him scoff from the passenger seat.
“Not today since I walked in on you. Which is funny, you put on this whole show about not wanting to be around my family and what was it all for? A fucking ploy so I didn’t know.” Ransom didn’t fucking know how much of a goddamn idiot he was being right now.
As the gravel crunched beneath the tires of the beamer, your argument continued. “I’m not fucking your father, I’ve never fucked your father, and I never will fuck your father.” He wasn’t hearing you.
“Is this why Linda pays you so much?” He scoffed, exiting the car. He looked at you from over the roof and continued, “So you keep Richard out of her bed?” You hadn’t stopped crying. Still half going from fear and the other half from frustration. It was so goddamn cold out that the tears were freezing against your cheeks.
“Ransom, I am not fucking your father!” You yelled, “The reason she pays me what she does is because the exact fucking thing you’re doing right now.” He rolled his eyes, walking up to the front door of his house,
“Give me my keys.”
“No.” You were still standing by the car, keys fisted in your hand. “You’re being a fucking asshole right now.”
He clenched his fist, slamming it into the front door before turning back to you and yelling, “Give me my fucking keys Y/N.” You both looked at one another for a moment.
You took a deep breath. “I have nothing to do with your father Ransom. My only job is to wait on you like a fucking servant and that is what I get paid to do. Not be your fucking punching bag when your family turns out to be a bunch of dicks-”
“Give me-”
“I’m not finished!” You screamed. Tears were still streaming heavily down your face and Ransom stood five feet away from you awkwardly letting you continue. “I don’t deserve this Ransom. I really fucking don’t. You literally almost just fucking killed me. So you’re going to say you’re sorry, you’re going to go into your fucking house, you’re going to give me what you promised me for even having to deal with this shit tonight, and you’re going to give me the rest of the week off.”
It was silent for a moment. The two of you standing in the cold Massachusetts air in silence. Your face was starting to burn and as the silence stretched on you began to doubt everything you just said. Fuck this could cost you the job. The envelope Richard had handed you weighed heavily in your pocket. Hopefully it would be enough to hold you over until you could get back to the temp agency.
Ransom let out a breath he had been holding, turning fully to you, and walking down the two steps of his porch. You flinched back away from him, looking at his knuckles that were split and bleeding from punching the door. His eyes met yours and he looked like he was debating something.
“I’m sorry.” His words were soft and whispered, hand coming forward with an open palm, waiting for his keys. You gently gave them back to him. That soft, whispered, ‘I’m sorry’ stunned you. You didn’t expect your yelling to actually work. You expected to be fired. His keys jingled as he reached in his pocket and brought that money clip back out, extracting a bundle of hundreds and holding them out to you between two fingers. “Go home.”
That was never spoken of again. The thing with Richard in the kitchen, being pulled over on 95, the screaming match that ensued, and nothing was ever said about the solid gold, $6,500 cartier bracelet that was by no doubt wrapped at the store that was waiting for you when you arrived back at work five days later.
2019
“What did he do?” You were sweating. It was so fucking hot in here, but you were afraid to take off your coat. The fanfare in which the detectives had pulled up to your apartment complex was embarrassing, quickly bringing you down to the police station and shoving you in an interrogation room.
“What did who do?” The man who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Elliot asked you. Shit. What the fuck did Ransom do? The death of Harlan Thrombey was sudden, right after his birthday just two weeks ago. It was unsettling, the suicide. The funeral was uncomfortable to say the least. Ransom told you to go and then didn’t go himself so you stood there like some weird interloper on the tails of everyone’s grief.
You were going to throw up, you’ve never so much as gotten a speeding ticket but suddenly you had a kilo of coke on you and an unlicensed gun. “Where were you the night Harlan Thrombey committed suicide?” You picked at your fingernails.
“I was at the party,” Your throat was so dry, you were afraid to touch the glass of water they had set before you, “I always feel strange around the family so unless Ransom needs me I try to hide out in the kitchen.”
“You’re his assistant?” Elliot asked, “He doesn’t have a job, so what exactly do you assist with?”
“I’m pretty much his babysitter.” You explained, “I make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble…” It’s ironic right? You bit your bottom lip. “Why am I here exactly?” The other man in the room, Wagner, spoke up,
“Hugh Drysdale has been arrested in the murder of Harlan Thrombey’s housekeeper.” Elliot gave him a dirty look.
“Fran’s dead?” The shock was evident on your face. You leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair, discarding your coat and scarf and taking a large mouthful of water.
“You seemed surprisingly absent from Hugh’s side throughout the aftermath of Harlan’s suicide, why is that?” The third man spoke up from his spot sitting in the corner of the room, the thick southern accent was almost comical.
“Ransom gave me time off,” You recalled, voice trailing off as you finish your sentence, “He said I could go to my sister’s cello recital…” Did he really kill her? “Why would he kill Fran?” It made no sense. “I mean, he’s an asshole, but murder?”
They played a recording. Ransom in his own, self-righteous, pompous voice. Fuck me. What a fucking idiot. “So tell us where you were on the dates in question, spare no details.”
You had thought it strange, Ransom had left you stranded at the Thrombey house and you were forced to find your own way back to his house to get your car. It wasn’t at all strange that when you got to his house his car wasn’t there. You’d just assumed he’d gone out. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go out after finding arguments with his family. But the next day when he suggested that you take the week off, spend time with your sister, go to that recital you didn’t know he knew about, you checked his forehead with your wrist.
“Are you sick?” You had asked. He gently pushed your wrist off of his forehead, giving you a terse look.
“Harlan committed suicide last night, the funeral is tomorrow, but after that you should take some time. I need some time.” Your heart broke a bit. Yeah Ransom and Harlan butt heads all the time, but they were practically the same person so it made sense to you that they would fight. Both prideful assholes.
“I’m so sorry Ransom.” Should you hug him? You didn’t know. You two didn’t have any physical contact really. You’d never seen him hug anyone. So no, no hugs. “Is there anything I can do for you?” You opted to just gently lay your hand on his wrist. His eyes met yours for a moment, silence.
“Just come to the funeral.” With that he stood up and walked away.
That’s why it was so off-putting when the bastard didn’t even show up to the funeral and as you stood there with his sobbing family you figured next time you saw him you were going to spit in his coffee.
“I haven’t seen him since the day before the funeral.” You admitted to the officers. “He asked me to go, and didn’t even show up.”
“If we have any other questions we’ll let you know.” And you were released from questioning, but you had so many questions yourself. Arson? Fran? He attempted to murder Marta. Was this worth it? The fucking asshole never had to work for anything in his life, and even now as you stood in the courtroom waiting to see what bail would be set as so you could relay to Linda, you wanted to smack his pretty little face for being such a fucking idiot.
A bailiff read out the case number and in walked Ransom. You’d never seen him in any outfit that cost less than your rent and here the bastard was, walking in with a black and white striped jumpsuit, the county jail logo stamped in red on the back. You were the only person that showed up for him. Linda was half waiting for you to text her a dollar amount so she could pay his bail, the other half of her was debating on whether to leave him there or not. At least, that’s what she told you anyway.
You could only imagine what you looked like to him. Your eyes were puffy and red from just crying in the parking lot for an hour in between getting questioned and coming to his hearing. Before that the detectives had taken you practically from your bed. But you were here, in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, coat pulled over the ratty thing, and snow boots on your feet. It started snowing this morning.
His eyes caught yours as soon as he entered, but he quickly looked away. It was like a goddamn movie, his wrists cuffed to his waist, a chain leading down to the cuffs around his ankles.
Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.
A chill went down your spine, “Bail set at a million dollars.” And a gavel. Cameras clicking behind you. Thirty minutes later you were waiting for his release. You handed a dry cleaning bag with clothes to the officer at the front desk.
Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.
It wasn’t long before the secure, thick, metal door behind the metal detectors opened and Ransom was walking through it back to you. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, quickly circling to the desk to get his phone, wallet, and keys back. The garment bag was shoved back in your hands containing the clothes he was wearing when he was arrested, and then he was out the doors of the county jail, speed walking to your car. His was taken in as evidence.
You used your key fob to unlock the car, Ransom wordlessly climbing in the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him as you settled in the driver’s. This was uncomfortable. You drove in silence for a minute, awkwardly leaning over to turn on the radio. The song only played for a second before Ransom leaned over, smacking the button to turn it off again.
“Just say it.” He spat out at you. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
“Say what, Ransom?” You were scared of him now and he could tell. He breathed harshly through his nose. You could feel his eyes on you.
“Aren’t you going to ask me if I did it? Why I did it? Yell at me for being a fucking idiot?” He threw his hands up in frustration. There was a beat of silence more, “Say something.”
“I don’t know what to say!” You really didn’t. What do you even say? You’ve been cursing him for a while. In your head. Cursing him since you left the interrogation earlier. You didn’t know what any of this meant for your job, if you’ll be able to keep your sister in school, if you’ll be able to even afford the apartment you two live in right now. And all because Ransom wasn’t getting anymore fucking money from his Grandfather the fucking prick.
“Anything. Fucking say…” He leaned over in his seat, growing close to you. “Are you scared of me?” He smirked. Not in his, I’m playing with you and getting my way, smirk. And not in his, I’m making you weirdly uncomfortable and it really gets me off, smirk. But some sick sinister type of smirk that made your stomach roll.
“You fucking murdered someone Ransom.” You said between clenched teeth. He studied you for a minute before settling back in his seat. Silence took over until you made it to the front door of his house. Lawyers should be coming by in about an hour to start working on his case, his parents should be here soon as well seeing as they were backing all of this.
“You think I would hurt you?” Ransom asked as he stripped himself of his coat, purposefully letting it fall to the floor just so you’d have to pick it up. You left it there. He turned to look at you, still in the doorway of his house. “I killed Fran because I had to.” He spat. “It was for the bigger fucking picture. You want to be paid don’t you? You like having money right?”
“Your Mom pays me Ransom.” You stated calmly. His voice was escalating in volume as he continued.
“So fucking what? Who bought you that fucking coat, huh?” He was talking about the expensive wool coat you are currently wearing. He bought it for you after seeing that your old bubble coat had stuffing pouring out of the right pocket. You didn’t ask for it. “Who pays for your fucking phone, huh?” You had a month-by-month plan before. Ransom gifted you and your sister iphones sometime in the spring, saying that he needed to be able to reach you without having every call get dropped due to bad reception. Your sister’s was just because they were buy-one-get-one, or so he said. You didn’t ask for it. “And that fucking bracelet on your wrist too? Is my Mom buying you jewelry? Or just me and my fucking Dad?” He was still under the impression that something had gone on between you and his father apparently.
“That’s it! I’m done.” You yelled back at him. “I fucking quit.” You stripped the coat off your shoulders and tossed it on the floor beside his watching his mouth snap shut. You wiggled the bracelet off your wrist and threw that down on top of it before slipping your phone out of the side pocket of your yoga pants and throwing that on the pile. “I’ll mail Julia’s phone back to you.” You still hadn’t stepped foot inside the house, turning to walk back to your car when Ransom’s thundering footsteps could be heard behind you.
Fuck he was going to kill you.
It had continued to snow throughout the morning, the soft white stuff still falling heavily from the sky as you rushed to your car, you had to get away. You didn’t make it far before Ransom’s arms wrapped around your body from behind, tugging you tightly to his chest. You let out a loud scream before he covered your mouth with his hand.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispered quickly into your ear. “Please stop, I’m sorry.” His large body was bent over your back as you were crouched over trying to get him to release you, both of you breathing heavily as you settled against him. “Y/N I’m sorry.” He slowly started walking the two of you back toward the house, “I’m not gonna hurt you!” He shouted as you tried to bite his hand. He uncovered your mouth, arms loosening. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” He repeated a little more calmly.
He brought you back into the house, shutting the door softly behind him. You wanted to leave, eyes tearing up. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? Ransom stood for a moment with his back against the door before peeling the wet socks off of his feet. You hadn’t realized that he took his shoes off when he originally came in. His feet were bright red from the cold. You glanced to your left at the knife block there, slowly backing away.
“No, no, no, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sunk down to his knees. He looked like a fucking idiot, face flushed from the cold, kneeling in front of the door. He slowly made his way over to you, not rising from his knees, shuffling forward with his hands open and facing you. Your heart was racing as he stopped at your feet, slowly moving his arms to wrap around your waist, burying his face in your ratty old college sweatshirt.
He was hugging you. Actually hugging you, on his knees, face turned into your belly. You could have sworn he whispered, “Please don’t go.” But you couldn’t be sure.
A pot of coffee was made, coats picked up, and floor mopped before the lawyers and his parents arrived. The only evidence of your earlier fight was the absence of the cartier bracelet you refused to put back on. It sat heavily in Ransom’s pants pocket. Their discussion was loud in the living room and no one looked up as you lay the coffee and finger foods on the coffee table, Ransom’s cup unmade for him out of spite. As you turned to make your way back to the kitchen, Richard’s hand shot out to grab you harm, halting your movements,
“Grab me some Macallan for me, would you sweetheart?” Your eyes flit over to Ransom, who’s jaw twitched, sharing a look with you before looking back to his lawyers and mother.
This was none of your business, but you needed to know what your future was going to look like. Were you out of a job? If Ransom went to prison there would be no one to babysit. So yeah, you would be. He admitted on tape to arson and murder. Pre-meditated arson was minimum of 10 years, Murder was 30 years. He’s looking at at least 40 years in prison. He would be an old man before he was even allowed parole.
The group grew silent, or you couldn’t hear them as you started dinner for that evening. You were sure the four of them would be staying. “Y’N, would you come here please?” That was Linda.
You made your way over to the group, shuffling nervously in your wool socks. “Yes Mrs. Drysdale?” Linda smiled,
“It’s back to Thrombey now, but that’s another issue.” Hmmm. “If I was willing to pay you…. Say four times what you’re making now, would you take Ransom’s house arrest? That is, if we are able to work the judge down to that.”
“House arrest?” You looked to Ransom confused, he wasn’t meeting your eyes. “Murder and Arson-”
“The only proof they have is the recording, the only thing they’re going to be able to pin on Mr. Drysdale here would be the attempted murder of the nurse.” A chill went down your spine,
“You tried to kill Marta too?” You asked Ransom, incredulously. He didn’t respond, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. His lawyers made you uncomfortable, they were definitely sleazy and you knew money could get you far in the justice system. If that recording was 75% of the evidence against Ransom and it was suddenly and accidentally destroyed, they would only have what was actually witnessed.
“Well, would you?” Linda asked again.
“I uhm… I have a sister who lives with me, I can’t just-”
“I’m sure there’s someone else who can take care of her. How long would it be for?” She looked to the lawyers, “Two or three years?” This was impossible. You couldn’t. Linda looked back at you. “How about this…” She leaned over and clasped your hands softly. “We will pay for your sister’s school, her housing, everything she needs while you’re doing this for us, and you’ll still get paid what I originally offered.”
“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked.
“Yes ‘if’.” She was selling it hard. Julia could stay with your aunt. She didn’t live far from where the two of you currently reside. The majority of your income went to her school, books, clothes, rent, and groceries. Having all of that taken care of would mean you’d be getting four times your current salary and not having to spend any of it. Just for a couple years.
“If Ransom gets house arrest,” you looked over at him, his eyes briefly meeting yours, studying you it felt like, “If he does, I will do what you need me to do. But I don’t even know how-” Linda’s hands quickly released yours.
“We will figure that out when the time comes,” Linda has a shit eating grin on her face, “Write up a contract.” Directed at the lawyers, “Now, how are we going to get our hands on that recording?” That’s it. You were dismissed until they needed you again.
“Why would you do that?” Ransom asked you. Everyone had left a little bit ago, you were busy washing the dishes, knowing as soon as this task was finished you’d be able to go home and this day from hell would be over.
“Do what?” There was a piece of cheese melted on the side of the casserole dish that wouldn’t fucking come off.
“Agree to take my punishment?” You paused in your scrubbing,
“That’s if they actually settle on house arrest.” You finally unwedged the cheese, rinsing off the casserole dish and placing it in the dishwasher.
“Hmpf.” Ransom had been cold and distant since he burrowed his head into your belly. Has to make up for his extreme weakness then. “But why?” He asked again.
You turned to him, eyes staring directly into his. You watched him fiddling with the gold bracelet you had taken off earlier, it was in his hand down by his side. “It’s what you said earlier right?” You scoffed, removing the rubber gloves from your hands and throwing them in the sink. You walked closer to him, not breaking eye contact. “Because I need the fucking money.”
The two of you didn’t talk for the rest of the weekend. Usually there was texting here and there, ‘Where are my grey socks, the ones I usually wear with the navy Ralph Lauren slacks?’ or ‘Next week when you meal prep for my weekend can you make me this?’ with a link to a recipe. ‘Pick me up a pack of magnums on your way in.’ Fuck you.
You got him regular Trojans.
Monday was Christmas luckily enough, and you knew you weren’t going in. Ransom didn’t even text you to see where you were. His account was rapidly depleting funds, you checked every once in a while.
234.72 ETRN-STD
523.50 DRNK
435.62 HAWTHNE
The list went on. Multiple spots a day over the weekend. That’s who he was going to be now, the old fucking white dude who sits at a bar all day hitting on girls uncomfortably too young. How many giggling 18 year olds would you kick out crying and screaming the next day? Disgusting.
“Do you have them?” Them meaning the cookies that were currently at the bottom of your reusable Aldi bag. Your sister, Julia, was off to your right, setting a pot with water on the stove to boil. It was Christmas, just the two of you, and with the aftermath of everything that was going on with the Thrombey/Drysdale clan, you were happy to get some time off to relax. You might even push it so that you wouldn’t have to work tomorrow. We’ll see if Ransom texts you.
“Of course I do.” This bag has been in your closet all weekend. There’s a bakery near your apartment that your Mom would take you to all the time, every time you got an A, won a game, gotten an award. Everything they made reminded you of her, and it was something you craved more than anything. Every Christmas they would make these fresh baked cookie packs with all kinds, chocolate chip, double chocolate chunk, snicker doodle, gingerbread, white chocolate macadamia, chocolate and peanut butter.
Every Christmas, after dinner, you and your sister would slouch in front of the TV with scalding hot cups of hot chocolate and devour almost the whole box. Every year except last year when at the time your sister was home alone watching The Grinch you were in a car with Ransom going over a hundred miles an hour and scared for your life. This Christmas, Ransom would not be getting between the two of you, food was cooking, lights in the living room were dimmed. The tree was all lit up and the presents you had exchanged earlier that morning sat unwrapped beneath it.
Christmas music was playing softly on the tv as you heard someone knock on your front door.
“Coming!” You yelled. It wasn’t uncommon for a neighbor to have forgotten something, sugar, butter, milk, that they needed for dinner. It wasn’t uncommon for you to answer your door without looking through the peephole. What was uncommon was Ransom Drysdale standing sheepishly on the other side. His cheeks, nose, and eyes were red. The cheeks and nose from the cold, the eyes probably from the alcohol you could smell on him. You sighed heavily, feeling a headache coming on, “What are you doing here?”
“Bar called me an uber and I didn’t want to go home.” He explained quickly, words slurring slightly.
“Your parents-”
“Fuck my parents!” He yelled, you quickly shushed him, looking down the halls to see if anyone was peeking out into the hallway. “Fuck my parents.” He said quietly.
“Ransom…” You sighed, stepping out into the hall, closing the door softly behind you. “What do you want?” His eyes were glazed, he shrugged dumbly, swaying forward. “Okay big guy,” I guess this is happening, “Come on.” You quietly ushered him inside, shutting the door softly behind you.
“Who is it? Oh, woah.” Julia’s eyes bugged out of her head, shifting over to you. ‘Murderer’ she mouthed.
“Go set the table.” You ushered Ransom over to the small table that could barely seat the two of you let alone a third, quickly brewing a pot of coffee and keeping an eye on your sister who was scared to get to close to him. “He’s harmless Julia.” You reassured her, or were you reassuring yourself so that you didn’t feel like such a bad guardian, letting a murderer into your home. He was past angry drunk Ransom, which is probably why the bar kicked him out, he was sad Ransom right now. You’d never seen him cry but this was probably the closest you were going to get to it. He was quiet, sat in the chair just staring as you and your sister finished dinner.
You poured him a cup of coffee and a glass of water, hoping to sober him up enough that you could safely send him home later on. The three of you sat down to eat. Ransom staring listlessly out the window. You made him a plate and told him to eat. And he did. You told him to finish his water. And he did. You told him to finish his coffee. And he did. This was almost terrifying. He hadn’t said anything since ‘fuck my parents’, and he looked dead on his feet.
“Send him home,” Your sister pleaded. The man hadn’t moved. Cleanup had already started and finished, he was still nursing the third glass of water you’d given him. Cookies were warming in the oven. His eyes were less glassy now. He was slowly sobering up. The large helping of mashed potatoes and three bread rolls he ate didn’t hurt either.
“He’s my boss, I can’t really kick him out.” You explained, “Let me get him sober enough that I know he’s okay and then he’ll go home.” She rolled her eyes at you, stirring the pot of hot chocolate on the stove, adding more chunks of chocolate to melt. Ransom, still unspeaking, didn’t protest when you moved him into the living room, setting him up in the recliner with his own cup of hot chocolate and three cookies, before snuggling down with your sister and watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas. You moved only once when he tapped the mug against your arm.
More.
“I’ve never done anything.” He said. “Never went to college, barely graduated high school.” He was rambling to himself, maybe to you? “I’ve spent the entirety of my adult years inside someone’s cunt.”
“Alright, Julia. Time for bed.” You ignored her whining protests. The movie wasn’t over yet. “Please?” You begged her. She hated Ransom. You knew this. She knows you know this. ‘All he does is take you from me.’ is what she once said to you. Just to treat you like shit.
“I have no money.” Ransom’s eyes met yours. “None.”
“I know Ransom.” He scoffed.
“I’m no better off than you now.”
“You still have your house. I’d say you are still better off.” You started cleaning up around him, letting the asshole sit in his self-pity.
“C’mere.” It was a quiet request. The Grinch was packing up his sleigh in the background. You dropped the two mugs you were holding onto the counter, circling back to the recliner. Ransom’s hand came out soft, wrapping around your forearm and gently guiding you to sit in his lap.
“Ransom, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You tried to pull away, heartbeat beginning to pick up. His still bloodshot eyes raised to meet yours.
“Please hold me.” Fuck. What were you supposed to do with that? Heart melting you sunk into his lap, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in tight. It was quiet for a while. Sitting with the credits rolling, Ransom’s arms wrapped around your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders. Comforting him from whatever crisis he was currently going through.
“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck.
“No Ransom, you did.”
2020
The trial, fuck me, the trial. The whole fucking family showed to watch Ransom crash and burn and get exactly what he deserved. Well that and to stare down Marta Cabrera who sat with the prosecution in some shiny new digs, a stunning gold cartier bracelet on her wrist. That was familiar. Ransom’s cheap bought apology. There was a tension there, you knew. He always had a thing for ‘the help’. You wondered if that’s where he had been this past week. But it’s strange isn’t it? This whole situation. It was unsettling and for some reason you felt irreversibly used.
“I knew the knife was a prop.” And that was that. Audio recording gone, attempted murder charge whittled down to aggravated assault. A slap on the wrist. Two years of house arrest. And here you were, in Ransom’s home with a fucking house arrest bracelet making your ankle itch. Unfucking believable. Ransom had sat in the courtroom, head raised, armani suit, legs crossed and body relaxed. He knew he was getting out of this from the minute he walked in.
The Thrombey trial that was supposedly going to last three months only lasted a week. You still had a job, and in a remarkable turn of events Linda Drysdale and their legal team got exactly what they predicted.
“I’m going out.” Was the first thing Ransom told you as you unpacked your clothes. He had half thought to buy you a bed and a small dresser that he haphazardly got someone to shove between his Pam Anderson Baywatch poster and the unplugged Space Invaders original arcade console. This was a 90s teenage boy’s dream bedroom. And now it was yours. He didn’t give you much time to respond and he was gone.
They say that you never really know someone until you live with them. And you’ve never felt that saying more true. Ransom was a fucking asshole.
During your previous employment schedule you would come in at 9 am with breakfast and let him know of anything he needed to do that day, if his Mom needed him for whatever reason, events his was scheduled to go to, dates he promised he’d keep. He’d let you know what to cancel and what he would get ready for, and then you were off. Cleaning and maintaining the home to the best of your ability, binge watching tv shows, trying new recipes from pinterest.
Ransom was disgusting.
Clothes discarded all over his floor, bedroom, living room, hallways. Beard trimmings all over the sink and what you would hopefully assume were more beard trimmings lining the bottom of his shower. You really didn’t want to think about Ransom’s pubic hair situation. He would do things like take his coffee mugs into his room or into the study and leave like a sip left in each one, letting it sit there until the milk began to curdle. Wet towels shoved into corners and every morning when you went in to make his bed it was like he was running in his sleep, loose and fitted scrunched in the corner of the foot board, duvet thrown off and pillows with half off shams.
He was doing this shit on purpose.
And you hated him for it.
It wasn’t long after the trial that he began a steady routine. Gym, breakfast, some puttering around the house, making plans and then he would go out. And that’s when we come to this,
“He said he would be back and we would have breakfast together.” The girl was pretty, but her voice was annoying.
“I’m one hundred percent sure he did not say that.” You stood with arms crossed in the doorway, watching her fix her face in the mirror propped against his bedroom wall. An old antique thing that didn’t match with the decor of the house at all.
“Hmpf.” She glared at you, “Fine, when he gets back, we’ll see who is right.” This was before you became practiced at this kind of thing.
You felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans,
Is she gone yet?
Fucking prick.
“I’ll have him call you when he gets in,” You explained, “He has a lot to do today, I’m sure if he said you’ll go out for breakfast it’ll probably be another day.”
“I said.” She stepped up to you, “I’m staying.” Fuck. You rolled your eyes and walked past her into the room,
Not leaving, come deal with her yourself
He had been waiting down the street like a psycho, waiting to see her leave so he can come back home, but it’s not really working out in his favor. You could feel her eyes on you as you made the bed and picked his laundry up from the floor, tossing them two feet away into the laundry basket you left in his bathroom in hopes he would actually use it. The socks left discarded beside it was a clear message of disregard, a ‘fuck you’ from a petulant child.
You could hear the door slam downstairs. Great, you looked at the girl who was scrolling through her phone curled up in the reading chair in the corner of his room, he’s pissed. You could hear his stomping feet climb the stairs and the girl looked up from her phone hopeful towards the door.
“Alright, time to go.” He huffed, coming into view. The girl stood from the chair, shifting over towards him and trying to wrap her arms around his neck. “Nope. Let’s go, your uber is here.”
“But, I-” She began, you could see tears welling up in her eyes and you began to feel bad for her.
You were never one to have one night stands. You had one serious boyfriend when you were in college, but when your Mom got sick you had ended it and moved back home. You hadn’t dated or been with anyone else since. You just didn’t have the time. That being said, this girl honestly thought Ransom had a heart. She was naive and young, younger than you. Your heart hurt for her, but honestly, no one should be with Ransom anyway.
His birthday dinner had soon come and gone. Linda and Richard sat around the dinner table eating Ransom’s favorite foods you’d spent the day cooking for him. Drinking whiskey and wine, Ransom’s glass never empty. You’d had a few glasses yourself with the tapas style dinner you’d put together. A beautifully iced spice cake sitting on the counter with unlit candles for dessert.
This was the night that Ransom blew up on you for the last time. The night he cried into your neck, drunk and unstable. Clutching desperately at your body for comfort, burying himself against you all touch starved and needy. This was more intense than last Christmas where his dry eyed stare begged you to hold him in an uncommon moment of weakness.
He was so hard to read sometimes and you were never quite sure where you stood. You knew you really hated him sometimes, other times… not so much. The more you knew his parents, the more you understood why Ransom was an ungrateful shit to begin with. You almost couldn’t blame him for how he turned out.
Almost.
“Help me with this.” He stood in the doorway to the small office he never used. It was pretty much just for show. A large wooden ornate desk, his macbook, and a bookshelf full of books you know he probably never read. Including the ones penned by his own Grandfather.
There were beginnings here. Multi-colored post its lined the desk, laptop left on the seat of one of the chairs in the room.
“What is this?” You asked him, fingers plucking a post-it from the desk,
Crime of Passion?
He had been watching a lot of true crime documentaries lately. It didn’t help but creep you out. This man, a murderer, suddenly extremely into serial killers and murder itself.
“I’m going to write a book.” He explained. His face was in a grin, almost giddy.
“A book.” You looked at him incredulously. Your eyes drifted over to Harlan’s novels sitting stacked on another chair, spines finally cracked and pages thumbed through, sticky tabs stuck throughout the pages. You pointed to them, “A book?”
“Yeah,” He gestured around to the post-its, “What do you think?” It’ll keep him busy that’s for sure. You sighed, sticking the post-it back on the desk and looked at him. He was waiting, expectantly, why did he care what you thought about this?
“Is it gonna be about Fran?” You asked awkwardly, he scoffed,
“No, I’m gonna write books like my Grandfather wrote,” He plucked a post-it from the desk, showing you,
Wife murders husband?
“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.”
He was good. You couldn’t lie about that. And you wouldn’t. This was a strange thing. The routine changed. Gym, breakfast, writing, lunch, writing, dinner, and then he would go out. His mind was moving faster than his fingers could and you were left reading a new chapter or two every night. You’d once loved Harlan’s novels. Your Mother was obsessed with them. It was partially why you had even taken the job tutoring Meg in the first place, but you know what they say. Never meet your heroes.
Harlan was kind in some ways, funny, but proud. His pride is what eventually killed him you’ve found out. The medicine Ransom had switched wasn’t his cause of death, his refusal for help was.
Ransom was as good as he was, better even.
“He’s got a lot of me in him,” Harlan said to you once, “He could have everything I’ve ever had if he would pull his head out of his ass.”
This was promising.
You were honestly afraid when Ransom first said he would be writing a novel. What if he wasn’t a good writer? Could you really lie and try to support him even though it was absolute garbage? You supposed you would have to. You were relieved to find out that it was unnecessary.
He slipped a red pen into your hand when handing you this last chapter, the book almost finished. “I want to see how you react to everything,” He explained, the book was coming to the climax, you were a chapter away from the big reveal and the aftermath, his hands gently massaged your shoulders before he bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you sat on the sofa. “Do you like it?” His hot breath brushed against your ear, a tingle went down your spine.
“Ransom,” Your hand came up to lay over his forearm, brushing the skin with your thumb, “It’s amazing.” You could almost feel the grin that stretched across his face, he turned, pressing his face into your hair where you could swear he laid a soft kiss before releasing you.
“Of course it is,” Here we go, “I’m a fucking Thrombey.” His fucking smirk. That's what he left you with, returning to his office to pound out the last two chapters.
It was a process. The editing, printing, shipping off to multiple publishers. He got replies after a month.
Eager replies.
Whatever Ransom wanted, Ransom got. The lucky bastard stayed lucky.
“Look Babe.” Ransom dropped a heavy box on the table in front of you, “Look at this shit.” He grabs a knife from the block on the counter, slipping it under the packing tape to open the box revealing glossy black covers. He first fucking novel. There. Printed. A picture of a fireplace, chair facing it, empty. A blood soaked carpet. He picked one from the box, opening it. And there in the forward, the dedication, Harlan’s name…
...and yours.
“Don’t get all big headed about it kid.” He smirked. Your heart was racing in your chest.
“Why would you…” Your fingers gently traced the letters of your name, there in print, as it would be on every copy sold.
“Wouldn’t have been able to write it without you being chained to my house, only seems fair.” He shrugged. “We can call it even.” You scoffed,
“Dedicating your book to me hardly makes my doing your house arrest for you even Ransom.” He smirked again, flipping through the pages, seeing his words in bold print.
“I think it’s plenty fair,” Okay, now you wanted to smack him, “You live here for free, you eat here for free, and you get paid pretty well to do so.” His devilish eyes met yours over the top of the book he was still thumbing through. “If anything you’re still ahead because you’re the kept woman of a bestselling author.”
“A kept woman?” You dropped the book onto the table. “I’m not your fucking whore Ransom.”
“Not yet.” Audibly you made noise of protest, internally your core thrummed with heat.
“Never.” You packed up your tablet and the new book, attempting to walk around him to go sit out by the fire pit for a while. His large hand gently grabbed your upper arm, tugging you into his body, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your arms trapped between you.
“Tell me you’re proud of me.” He whispered into your hair, his voice suddenly soft, heartbreaking.
“I am proud of you Ransom.” You shifted your belongings to your left hand, tugging your right from against his chest to wrap around his torso. “I’m very proud of you.”
Book published, royalties rolling in, Ransom was making his own money now. He was more cocky than ever. Proud. The, I-don’t-need-you-anymore-mom, attitude. But can you still pay my babysitter? The girls came more easily than ever before, not that they didn’t come easy before the bestseller.
Every. Night.
Sometimes two girls were leaving in the morning, gently ushered out the door with promises of a phone call and a, “I’ll let him know.” It made you feel dirty, betraying almost. Like you were supposed to be on these girl’s side instead of cleaning up after Ransom’s mess.
You could gag. The milky condoms, two of them, tossed haphazardly aside on the hardwood floor of Ransom’s bedroom. Disgusting. You could hear him laughing at you now.
“It could be you,” He says, “Just say the word.” If you weren’t so irritated with Ransom for this very thing your panties would be dripping with the thought.
He’s sitting at the kitchen island forking soft scrambled eggs into his mouth, cheesy with peppers and onions, the way he likes them, the way you made them, when you come downstairs. “You could at least throw the condoms in the fucking trash Ransom.” He looked up from his eggs to you, peeling off the latex gloves you’d just used, smirking.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole.
“You’re disgusting.” You begin on the dishes, taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee. You hear the stool scoot back against the floor, “That wasn’t an invitation.” You said, hearing his approach. His arms wrapped around your middle as you began to scrub. His head rested on your shoulder.
“You love me.” He slowly rocked your body side to side, “You love how disgusting I am.” You tried to shrug him off of you, but he held you tighter. Since last Christmas when you curled up in his lap and held him for two hours until he was sober enough to leave you he’d been slowly getting more and more affectionate with you. He was touch starved, hungry for it. The intimacy of holding and being held.
You didn’t picture Linda as much of a hugger.
The house was decorated. It was the least he could do for you really. This was the first Christmas since your Mother died that you and your sister wouldn’t be completing your tradition, but you tried not to think about it. Ransom humored you just after Thanksgiving, bringing home a fake Christmas tree, ornaments and lights. You’d ordered a couple of extras online and three stockings were on the mantle, Christmas lights lined the windows giving the house a warm glow.
“I’m sending everyone in my family a copy.” He told you, “a signed copy.” Of his book. Rubbing their noses in it. The book has firmly held the number one spot on the New York Times Bestseller List for weeks. Already over a million copies have been sold. Whether its due to the fame of the not-murder trial or Harlan’s legacy you couldn’t be sure, but even without those things the book was incredibly good.
Ransom could have made it on his own, a long time ago.
“You don’t think that’s a little crass?” He released you long enough for you to finish loading the dishwasher, watching you place the pod of soap and shut it like he didn’t realize that’s actually what you’re supposed to do.
“Fuck them,” He scoffed, “They’ve always hated me.”
“To be fair,” You turned to the soft sweater clad man leaning against the kitchen island, “You’re an asshole.”
He smirked, “Yeah, but that’s why I’m so charming.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
It could almost be domestic. The way things were now. So different from before. Yeah Ransom was still bringing a new girl home almost every night and sure you could hear them fuck from your bed on the other side of the wall, but for the most part it was always just the two of you.
His parents never ventured out here much anymore, since his book was published he had a deadline for the next book that needed to be completed so he wrote almost every day now, sometimes for hours. You made his every meal, on the odd occasion you’d order out. Sometimes when he needed a break he would come sit on the sofa with you as you watched whatever show you were currently obsessed with. One time you walked in on him watching Love Island by himself and you hadn’t let him live it down yet, maybe not ever.
He grew soft, sweet almost. A kiss against your palm. Hugs from behind as you worked at the stove. A snuggle of feet under his thigh as you watched Miracle on 34th Street by a crackling fire. Wordlessly anticipating each others needs. It spoke to a high level of intimacy. Something you both chose to ignore.
It was nice.
He didn’t go out on Christmas Eve. Not only because his usual bar was closing earlier than normal because of the holiday, he assured you, but because he wanted to stay in. Snow was falling thick outside, a foot of it already blanketed on the ground. To tell the truth you didn’t want him to go out in this weather anyway. You knew he was willing to drive a little drunk and he didn’t exactly obey speed limits. It was safer here.
You were still reeling from the argument you had with your sister earlier in the night. You called her to see what she was doing, but she was at a friends house and wanted nothing to do with you. Since the house arrest you haven’t exactly been on speaking terms. She wasn’t Ransom’s biggest fan and didn’t really understand why you needed to do this. You could kind of blame it on yourself for her having no idea how much money you needed to keep her in school, her cello and lessons weren’t cheap and nor are the electronics she seemed so attached to. This two year sentence you were playing out for Ransom would put you in the green, far in the green, so far in the green that you were willing to put up with all his petty bullshit and be okay with your sister hating you if it meant your futures were secure.
After all this was over, you might just be able to go back to school.
“Are you hungry?” You removed your feet from their spot beneath his thigh, grabbing both of your now empty mugs, padding over to the kitchen. Your stomach had just begun to growl. The stew you had simmering on the stove was ready to eat.
“Yeah,” Ransom replied, not turning away from the television. Santa’s trial had just began. It was a strange thing, having him watch classic Christmas movies, soft in sweats and a comical christmas sweater you jokingly bought him. “I look good in anything.” He said. He wasn’t lying.
You poured two bowls full, bringing over a plate with some crusty bread he was kind enough to go out and grab for you earlier in the day. “Thank you,” He said softly as he took the bowl from your hands, eyes still not moving from the screen. He quickly spooned some into his mouth,
“It’s hot.” You said, his only reaction being trying to rapidly cool it in his mouth, his tongue probably burned. He gave you a glare, before resting the bowl on the coffee table. This could almost be a relationship. The two of you together. In this oddly domestic moment. He was the only man in your life right now, it wasn’t like you had many options for seeking others.
That’s why you would get so hot and bothered with him. And that’s the only reason.
He had never seen A Miracle on 34th Street before. You’d think with how old fashioned Harlan was he would have at least seen it once or twice, but then again, any time spent together as a family was always strained and argumentative.
Even when he was a kid though? He was the first grandchild. His mother was the first child of Harlan. You were sure when he was a child he was spoiled rotten, more toys than he could play with, never wanting for anything. But that wasn’t exactly true. The touch starved trust-fund baby didn’t get the one thing kids need the most, more than presents, toys, electronics. Real genuine love.
His Mother loved him to an extent. It’s why you were the one on house arrest instead of him, but she thought loving him meant giving him whatever he wants. When we all know that’s not what kids want. They want to be told no, given structure, rules. How many times have you gotten into arguments with your sister because you didn’t allow her to go roam the streets at night without supervision or give her money for some stupid thing she wouldn’t be even bothered with in two weeks?
But you could also see how no one really knows how to raise a child and you just try your best. Having Harlan for a Father couldn’t have been easy.
Under the tree that you’d decorated and in the stockings you’d hung were presents. Ransom had everything he’d ever wanted, but you couldn’t help but want him to have something to open tomorrow morning. Granted it wouldn’t be much, but it’s the thought that counts. In the fridge you already have most of what will go into tomorrow’s dinner made. Hopefully your sister thinks about your extended invitation and Ransom can go pick her up at some point tomorrow. You missed her, a lot. Your heart ached with wishes that she was here right now.
Ransom’s eyes had gotten shifty. The movie was coming to an end and his bowl was empty. “Did you want more?” You asked him, thinking that would be the cause of his shiftiness, maybe indecisive?
“No.” He cleared his throat, “I’m not going to be home for dinner tomorrow.” You weren’t sure you heard that properly.
“You’re not going to be home….” You started, picking his bowl up from the coffee table and standing, “For dinner on Christmas?”
He was scared to tell you, that’s cute. Your body was bristling with anger as you took the stew off the stove to cool before you could properly store it. He didn’t move from his spot on the couch.
“My Mother wants me to go to this dinner with-”
“So every other time your Mother wants you to do something it’s ‘fuck you’ and ‘eat shit’, but when we’ve already made plans for tomorrow and my sister-” You felt tears prickle in your eyes. “What the fuck Ransom?” His face was stoic from the couch.
“Why does it matter?” He asked, “I stayed home tonight!”
“And that makes up for it?” You stood at the kitchen counter, staring across the room at him. “I already started on dinner, Ransom. You couldn’t have maybe said something while I was prepping all of this?” You gestured to the fridge. He shrugged.
“I didn’t know that was all for tomorrow.” His face still betrayed no expression.
“She can come here,” You offered, “We can have dinner here.” His eyes shifted away from yours to watch the rolling credits.
“She doesn’t want to.” He stood from the couch, rounding towards the tree slowly, searching.
“Why not?” He was being shady about this, the whole situation was strange. “I already have all of this food prepared and I can’t pick up Julia myself… Ransom?”
“She doesn’t like being around you.” He stated honestly, he picked a box out among the presents under the tree, eyes meeting yours as he fumbled with it.
“What?” You get it. She’s technically your employer. But she’s never had any issue dropping in for dinner or putting you to work on some task for herself.
“Listen,” He came closer to where you still stood, your chest tightening. “Y/N, I hate my family-”
“Then why are you going to-”
“I have to do this.” His cheeks were flushed, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “My therapist… I don’t want to do this.” He slid the box across the counter top. “I don’t want to go, but I have to.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better about it?” You scoffed, picking up the gold wrapped box. His mouth opened and then quickly shut without speaking. You sighed heavily, a headache coming on. “I’ve got nothing, Ransom. All I wanted to do tomorrow was spend some time with my family and if you’re not going to be around…”
“I know, I can maybe go pick your sister up in the morning?” He offered. Your eyes watery, staring at him. He doesn’t get it. Your heart was aching a bit.
“You’re such an asshole.” You spat, leaving the present still wrapped in front of you, thumbing the thick wrapping paper.
“I know.” He swallowed.
“What does your therapist want you to do?” You never talked about what went on in his therapy sessions. He was too closed off after them, drank too heavily, lashed out too easily. You’d let him slowly work through his refractory period and let him cozy up to you once he was feeling better.
Ransom felt awkward, you could feel it. He was uncomfortable.
“Why does this matter so much to you?” He asked. He was turning. He got too emotional. “It doesn’t matter what I have to do or where I have to do it. I said I would go pick Julia up, I’m giving you what you want.”
“Fine.” You were staring each other down. “I’ll let her know you’ll be there to get her around noon and then you can go have dinner with the people you hate.” He rolled his eyes,
“I don’t know what you think this is, Y/N.” He scoffed, “You still work for me, we’re not playing house here.”
“Then stop making me.” You spat back at him, both of you in a similar stance, hands gripping the edge of the stone counter top.
“I’m not making you do anything.” There was a rage growing in his eyes.
“You are, Ransom. I take care of you like you’re my own fucking child. I clean up all of your messes, I cook all of your fucking food, I do everything for you.”
“I don’t ask you to.”
“You don’t have to! You literally just expect it of me.” You yelled.
“Because it’s your job.” He laughed, throwing his hands into the air. “I have no loyalty to you Y/N. None.” Fine.
Fine.
You hated him. You fucking hated him. You were doing all of this for him. And you’ve never felt more dumb in your life. The house arrest bracelet on your ankle felt heavier than ever. It itches like mad.
“Fuck you Ransom.” You rounded the counter, moving towards the stairs when he grabbed your arm.
“Take the gift.” He slapped the box into your hand.
“I don’t want the fucking gift, Hugh.” He looked taken aback for a moment.
“Don’t call me that.” His hand fell from your arm, stepping closer to you.
“That’s what you want, right?” You asked, “You want me to do all of these things for you and take care of you and fucking hold you when you need comfort but when I’m fucking trying to make things easier for you, you’re all the sudden ‘I have no loyalty to you.”
“Wait a fucking minute,” He growled, “I take care of you too. Who the fuck buys all the shit you want on a fucking whim? You’re in the mood for curry, I get you curry. You make a comment about how you really want to decorate for Christmas and who fucking gets you everything you need to do that? You say that you really want to get into fucking knitting and who gets you all the fucking shit you need to fucking knit?”
“Buying me things doesn’t mean you care about me Ransom.” You shook the box in your hand for emphasis. “All I wanted to know is what your therapist wants you to do tomorrow, you can go have dinner with your Mother. It’s fine. I just wanted you to fucking open up to me.”
“I am open with you!” He yells, “You know more about me than anyone else in my fucking life, it’s hard for me okay? I can never escape you, you’re always fucking there. I don’t get to fucking-” He placed his hands on his hips, turning from you. He let out a heavy, slow breath. Calming himself down. “I don’t want to go tomorrow, trust me Y/N, I really don’t, but I have to.” His eyes met yours, softer this time.
You felt like some part of you was being irrational. This dinner might help his growth. Whatever milestone he was reaching with his therapist, this could be really good for him. But you also felt a little selfish, you wanted him here, with you. You felt more like his family than anyone else. Or at least, he felt more like your family and he should be here to spend Christmas with his family. You knew he felt at least somewhat the same, if the gifts addressed to Julia under the tree from him were anything to go by. You wanted him here, but he wasn’t yours.
“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the tears that were once threatening to spill, now did. “It’s fine.” Your head was pounding. “It’s fine.”
“I know it’s not,” He said softly. “But we can maybe do presents and lunch before I go,” He gestured towards the tree. “I should be back in time for the Grinch.” You were shaking a bit as he approached you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly against his body. “I’m sorry baby.” He was so warm, a little sweaty from arguing, but warm. “I’ll make it up to you.” A soft whisper into your hair.
The little gold box was soon opened, a new rose gold cartier bracelet slipped onto your wrist and Ransom left you and your sister the next day wearing the sweater you had so carefully knit for him.
2021
Your breath hitched in your throat, back arching, a loud moan breaking from your lungs. How was he so good at this? Ransom’s tongue was at work between your thighs, large hands cradling your hips, burying his face in your moist heat. You were so close to cumming. And he knew it.
“Oh god,” you moaned, bucking your hips into his face as you rode your orgasm until your body was too sensitive to continue, Ransom moving his attentions to press his lips sloppily against your thighs before making his way up your body.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he lamented as he pressed his lips to your flushed cheeks and panting mouth, parting your thighs fully around his hips to tease your opening with the blunt head of his cock. “So fucking beautiful.” He moaned into your open mouth as he breeches you.
He felt so fucking good. You’d never get over it, you were sure. Ransom was patient, biding his time. He wasn’t that guy who had to be as deep inside you as possible, chasing his orgasm by stabbing your cervix. Over time he mapped out the location of your g-spot, shifting his hips and cock to brush against the spot with every thrust, working you up and making your eyes roll back in your head.
Those girls screamed with good reason. Just as you did now. Gushing wet around him as you came for the second time, looking up wantonly into his flushed face, lips swollen from first kissing and then pulling you apart with his tongue. Your fingers curled in his chest hair as he picked up pace, chasing his own release now, your hips lifting off the bed to aid him.
“So fucking good baby,” His eyes screwed shut as he moans, arms trembling, “You fuck me so good baby.” He sat back on his haunches, pulling your hips roughly to his, your sensitive clit grinding against his pubic bone almost bringing you over again as he cums. Hips stuttering into yours as you feel him empty himself into you.
His head tilted towards the ceiling, eyes dropping to find you, hands still gripping your hips and as much of your ass as he can manage. “I love you.”
It never gets old.
He said those words to you ever chance he got. It was as if he was trying to make up for a lifetime without it. Love.
Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.
Silent breakfast with your feet in his lap, I love you.
Scratching his back as you peered over his shoulder while he was writing, I love you.
Feet stuffed under his thigh watching Outlander and drinking hot tea, I love you.
Buried deep inside you, panting mouths a breath apart, bodies flushed and sweaty, sheets damp with cum, I love you.
“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”
It was intense. His love for you.
He tried hard. He didn’t know how it was supposed to work. A real relationship, a real honest to god loving relationship. But he was trying.
The first few months of the relationship you gained a lot of new jewelry, a new iPad, clothes, shoes. “You don’t have to buy me things to prove that you love me, Ransom.”
Then came flowers and lots of them. Sometimes just one, sometimes a bouquet. Regardless there were multiple vases that stayed filled throughout the house, always with fresh flowers never given time to fully wilt.
After that was the touching. Always some sort of physical contact. Whether you were cuddling on the couch or a blink away from sleep with his ankle wrapped around yours, if you were in a room together there was always some sort of contact.
Your house arrest bracelet was removed, and a gold anklet replaced it. You were free to leave, live on your own. Move out and back into that shitty apartment with your sister, but this was early days in the newfound relationship with Ransom.
He’d bought you a house.
He’s paying for your sisters school.
He’s paying you to still work for him.
It was a Victorian. The house. Not at all like his contemporary cube he knew you despised. A rich dark brown with a large porch. Much too big for just you and your sister, so 6 months after the two of you moved in, Ransom sold his house and moved in too.
Julia was warming up to him. At first she wasn’t a fan. It took a long time, many dinners with Ransom, ‘family outings’, you hoped she could see the way he treated you now. The way he’s kind of always treated you. Her love was easily bought with the new house, her latest generation iPhone and the fact that she now had a monthly allowance. It didn’t stop you from making her get an after school job at the school library though.
Now with a house of your own, you were doing something you’d always dreamed of. Watching Ransom try to hang Christmas lights.
“I’ll just pay someone to do it,” He offered, looking skeptically at the boxes you had placed on the dining room table, “I’m not going up there to do it.”
But there he was, up there doing it while you looked up at him from the bottom of the ladder. “This is the fucking worst.” He exclaimed, taking the light clips and attaching them to the roof. “Why are we doing this?”
“Because you love me and you want to make me happy.” You laughed. He rolled his eyes, squinting against the sun.
“I’m not so sure,” He attached a few more clips within reach before steadily climbing down the ladder. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”
“I’m the beneficiary on your life insurance right?” You jokingly asked as his feet hit the ground. He laughed at your bad joke,
“I think that’s in pretty poor taste, but…” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Yes.”
“Julia should be home soon and then we can decorate the tree,” You wrapped your arms around his middle, capturing his lips with your own, “And make some cookies,” You kissed him again,
“And have a drink.” He smirked against your lips.
“You have a therapy appointment today,” You walked over to the steps, “You’re not having anything to drink.” He rolled his eyes at you once more, shooing you into the house as he re-positioned the ladder to go back up and finish stringing the lights.
You had to be proud of him. Court mandated therapy ended when your house arrest did, but he still went every week. At first it was due to a little pushing by you, but eventually he made the appointments on his own. He was getting better. Still a dick, but that was his nature. He wasn’t quick to anger anymore, his emotions took a more level head. And he was now publishing books twice a year. He’s got five books out now, and almost 100 million copies sold. Which is incredible.
You started back to school, Ransom wanting to start his own publishing company, “I’m paying for you to go to business school as an investment in our future.” He claimed. Once you were done with school your job would be to then help him open his own publishing company where you’d overlook everything. A daunting task, but it was hard not to believe in yourself when Ransom made himself your own personal cheerleader. “You’re brilliant,” He would say, “You’re so smart, you’ve just been dealt a bad hand until now.”
And now he was stacking that hand to the best of his ability.
Finals had been last week and you still marveled at the fact that as you poured over your last assignments and studying, Ransom would make you coffee and massage your shoulders whereas you would usually do the same for him as he was finishing a book.
You’d gone to a couple therapy sessions with him, the first time he’d invited you was strange and you didn’t know what would even be discussed, but as you sat in the session and he was finally completely bare to you, you couldn’t help but feel like it was his idea and not his therapist’s.
That session changed the dynamic between the two of you for sure.
After the dam broke, the two of you having sex for the first time and Ransom’s admission of love it wasn’t easy. He was still an asshole and as someone who had never been in a relationship before, this first real relationship, he didn’t really know how to behave.
You had one session a month together and it was probably one of the best ideas Ransom ever had.
He was a little sullen when he came home later that night, coming to curl himself around you as you placed the cookies you and Julia had baked earlier into the decorative metal tins you had just bought.
Sometimes it was like this, sadness. His lips gently pressing themselves against your cheek, his body tightly pressed against yours trying to pull as much comfort as he possibly could. “I don’t want to talk about it,” He whispered softly, “Not yet.”
“Okay.” You knew what he needed and what he needed was a little bit of time. You offered him a cookie, chocolate and peanut butter, still warm. He took it gently from your fingers, pulling away to go to his study, but not before pulling you into a soft lingering kiss. An apology for what you knew would be a distant night. A ‘I don’t know when I’ll be coming to bed’ night. You were sure you’d have three new chapters to go over in the morning.
You loved the snow. Almost a foot of it had fallen overnight, frosting the windows and giving your home a beautiful Christmas glow. It made your home feel cozy and well slept as you stretched your limbs out, hand coming to run across Ransom’s back. So he did come to bed after all. You rolled over to face him, laying on his belly, arms folded under his pillow facing you.
God he is beautiful.
You hated it about him. So handsome. You brushed his fallen hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his scrunched brow. He was letting his beard grow out for the winter. It made him even more attractive, the bastard.
Julia was just getting up for school, standing in the kitchen in her uniform, eating toast and facetiming a friend. She was in a carpool, this house you lived in, while comfortably distanced from others, was in a neighborhood of other kids that went to her same school. Something you’re sure Ransom took into account when buying this house in the first place. You drove the kids to school on Friday when you didn’t have any classes. Today was a different parent’s turn.
“Can I take some of these to school?” She asked, picking up a tin of cookies.
“Yeah, but take the red one.” You popped a k-cup into the keurig. “Those haven’t touched any nuts.”
“Mila’s Mom said we can go to the mall after school to go get presents for the pollyanna our class is having, is that okay?” She was such a good kid. Getting older now, she was almost ready to learn how to drive, something you’d been dreading, but for whatever reason Ransom was really looking forward to.
“You have money still?” You asked, preparing a second cup of coffee for the sleeping bear upstairs.
“I mean,” She smirked, “Unless you want to give me more…?” You rolled your eyes, turning towards your younger sibling.
“What time will you be home?” The car had just pulled up outside, horn letting out a quick ‘honk’ to let her know they were here.
Julia shrugged, hugging you, “We might get dinner, but probably no later than 8. I’ll text you.” She shrugged her coat on, opening the front door as you called behind her,
“Text me when you get to the mall and when you’re on your way home!”
“Okay!” She yelled back, trudging through the snow to the car.
“Keep your location on!” You could almost feel her roll her eyes at you,
“Okay!” Annoyed this time.
“I love you!” You shouted as she got in the car, slamming the door behind her. Your phone chimed with reply,
love you too
With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs.
He groaned unhappily when you woke him up, but it was quickly soothed by the coffee you’d supplied him with.
Christmas was quickly approaching. The first Christmas you’d be spending together as a real, honest to god, family. In your own home, ready to begin your own traditions. The house was beautifully decorated and almost always smelled like cookies and a Christmas movie or music was always playing in the background.
There was a truly sweet moment you’d wanted to commit to memory for the rest of your life. Julia rolling out cookie dough, Christmas music blaring obnoxiously loud and Ransom coming out from his study yelling,
“I can’t write anything in a house this loud!” Walking over to the sound system and turning it down to a soft ambling. Your sister and you looking at him and laughing, the red faced lumberjack quickly losing steam as he realized he was wearing the hideous Christmas sweater you’d jokingly bought him last year. “It’s the warmest sweater I own.” He claimed. Sure. Sure it is.
He turned the music back up a little louder, coming to a happy medium. His embarrassment waning as he looked at the two of you in the kitchen. A family that didn’t argue with every other word. People who genuinely loved each other. Something he never knew he wanted or needed. He came over to you, gently clasping your hands before tugging you into his body to ridiculously dance around to Jingle Bell Rock. The three of you peeling with laughter. Was this even real life anymore? With a soft parting kiss and a peak over your sisters shoulder to steal some cookie dough he was reluctantly walking back to his study, coming to join you twenty minutes later after finishing the chapter he’d been working on all day.
The three of you spent the rest of the night in the living room, watching the cheesy A Christmas Prince series on Netflix and eating what was sure your body weight in popcorn. Cozy with your little family.
“Do you think she’d like a puppy?” Ransom whispered into your neck one night.
“Do not.” You were close to sleep, just about to drift off, when his question stirred you awake.
“I always wanted a puppy when I was a kid.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, fingers gently tugging your nipple.
“I’ll be the one taking care of it,” You whimpered as his other hand sunk between your thighs, “Do not get her a puppy.” His lips met your shoulder and you turned in his arms, thighs parting as he lightly stroked your clit.
“You’ll get there.” He pressed his lips against yours, teasing your entrance with his fingers, his now hard cock nudging against your thigh. “You’ll warm up to the idea.”
“No…” You whined, his fingers beginning to stroke your g-spot, his body coming to lay over yours, his eyes half lidded and lips wet and red came to meet yours as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock. “Fuck.” His fingers laced themselves through yours, pressing your hands against the sheets as he began to rock his hips slowly into yours.
“You’re so sweet on me baby,” He mouthed against your lips, “So sweet on us.” He moaned. Your hips ground against his with every thrust. This slow love making that was making you gush around him, pussy making obscene sounds with every tilt of his hips, gently brushing the parts of you that make your legs shake. He chest close to yours, the begging in his eyes,
“You’ll be such a good mother,” His hips met yours a little harder on that one causing you to gasp, pussy clenching around him. “Gonna give me what I want for Christmas?” He asked. He did this sometimes, knowing you were still on birth control and the actual relationship was still relatively new, the two of you had been together for almost a year now, you knew that he’d been toying with the idea of having a baby. You’d talked about it in therapy recently.
“I love you,” He moaned, his hips build up a little speed as your legs came to wrap high around his waist. “I can’t wait,” He groaned, “So good to me.” His lips capturing yours passionately as his hips stalled, grinding himself against your g-spot, pubic bone rubbing your clit as you found your orgasm, pussy gushing wet dripping down his thighs onto the bed as you moaned into his mouth.
“You’ll be such a good mother baby, such a good fucking mother.” His hips picked back up in pace, “I’d do anything for you baby. Anything.” He was chasing his release now, thrusting against your sensitive clit making you reel again before releasing your hands and grabbing your thighs, pushing them back high against the bed, just making you take it. You both had to try to be quiet here, your sister on the floor above you, your hand covered your mouth as you tried to muffle the loud obnoxious squealing that came uncontrollably as his hips slapped against your ass in this position. Sweat forming on his brow and head thrown back as he groans through his teeth, feeling him empty his seed deep against your cervix.
In all the years you’d known him Ransom was never a kid person. He didn’t like small children, but he also didn’t come into contact with them often which is why it was so strange two months ago when he originally brought up the idea. “I think we would make pretty okay parents,” He said, “Better than mine definitely.” It made your heart flutter, thinking of a life with him. Knowing that he was also thinking about a life with you, but it’s just not the right time.
What wasn’t surprising about any of this was on Christmas morning, after breakfast and the exchanging of handmade sweaters, new books to read, a couple new apple watches, and your sister and you receiving matching earrings, a gorgeous little blue nose pit bull puppy, one that reminded you of your childhood dog was brought out with a little pink bow around its neck. Ransom ignored your glare as he handed the sweet little thing to your sister, who was crying in happiness.
He would remind you later on that he found you cooing to the sweet little thing only a few minutes after that, the puppy curled up in your arms, licking your fingers in earnest.
“Don’t you have something else?” Julia asked him.
“Julia this is plenty,” You scolded, “He’s gotten you enough.” She rolled her eyes.
“It’s not for me.” She laughed. The little puppy sleeping in her arms and you scratched it behind it’s ears, turning to Ransom who shifted nervously to one knee, a ring box open in his hand.
“Stop it.” Came out from a very watery smile. He licked his lips, tugging his bottom one between his teeth before starting,
“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
.
.
.
TAGLIST //
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Final Space Season 3 Review: “How Far Are You Willing to Go to Fix It?”
Hello all you presumably weeping from that finale people! And it’s time for me to return to Final Space, to examine the good, bad and the triclops of season 3. I initially planned to just review the season as it came out, doing each episode one at a time as it came out and just adding it to my regular schedule. That lasted only three weeks as the combination of the Season’s return to being far more serialized like season 1 made it harder to dive into the characters when I didn’t know what direction they’d be taking, the series airing late on saturdays meant i’d have to cover it on Sundays, aka what I usually kept as a slack day if I got behind. So I tapped out, but I still wanted to TALK about the season, so i decided to just talk about the season as a whole once it ended, especially since my Close Enough Season 2 review worked well enough and Invincible ended before this season did giving me a tryout to doing a whole season review again, to see if I could hack it. I could and thus will probably be doing more of these from here on out.. not for every show, I still like covering some weekly, as i’m currently doing with owl house, it just allows me to cover shows that are either more comedy based or in this case more serialized, particularly streaming shows. It’s the reason I'm also now doing Close Enough as entire seasons.
So before hand for those who didn’t read my previous reviews, since i’d rather this stood on it’s own: I loved final space from the animatic, as they showed one along side the other shows in TBS aborted animation block. You know the one they tried made up of Close Enough (Which got shunted to HBO Max which worked out better anyway), Tarantula (Which you probably didn’t know existed and I still have not seen) and the Cops which was produced by Louis CK so you can tell why that was swiftly destroyed and buried behind 10 tons of concrete. So the series came out, it was well liked by a lot of people, disliked by some too and in general seemed like my cup of tea. I simply.. never drank it. Not having cable I assumed it would just show up on a streaming service I had. Then when it ended up on VRV I just told myself I'd get the week long trial and binge it then.. and never got around to that either. Yeah as you can probably tell I have a bad problem with procrastinating when it comes to watching shows. That’s why fine shows such as Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, Kid Cosmic, M.O.D.O.K., Harley Quinn, what I haven’t seen of Doom Patrol, what I haven’t seen of Wonder Over Yonder, Stranger Things, Transformers War for Cybertron, Castlevania (Though that one’s continued to sit thanks to one of i’ts co creators being a dickhead and breaking my heart with his shitty behavior coming to light), and Craig of the Creek have just sorta sat in my queue. I just tend to forget to watch a show till it’s piled all the way the fuck up my queue and I hope to change that at some point.
Cut to the Summer of 2019. I was watching my surrogate nephew during that summer but had to come in early in the morning and thus had a few hours to myself where I could watch whatever and noticed on Adult Swim that Final Space was coming back. My course was clear...
So I did... granted I caught up on season 1 AS I caught up on season 2 but still it was a hell of a good time. This series is excellent. Even with my problems with season 3 i’ll get into shortly, it’s still a damn excellent show with thorughly loveable and layred characters who for the most part develop nicely, great animation, one of the best voice casts in the business (In addition to Rogers and his friend Coty Galloway we also have the likes of Steven Yeun, Ashly Burch, Ron Funches, Conan O’Brien, Tika Sumpter and David Motherfucking Tennant), and a tone that at it’s best ballances heartbreaking character drama with some of the best humor in adult animation.
It’s also honestly a great Guardians of the Galaxy Cartoon. I’ll freely admit to not having checked out the Disney one, and with it’s washed out colors i’m not in a huge hurry. But this show is at it’s core a ragtag bunch of misfits and outlaws, most of whom aren’t stable on a good day, being thrust into the position of the unvierse’s saviors. That speaks to both the original Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning run AND the utterly fantastic movies, feeling like a nice mix of both having the Gunn Movies goofy humor and the comics ongoing plot about a cosmic horror lurking just beyond a breach that threatens all reality.
So yeah with all that i loved it and the two year wait for season 3 was painful, since it ended on the massive cliffhanger of our heroes entering final space, and Gary reuniting with Quinn, only for Invictus to creepily show up in the background. it also made crossovers difficult as I really DIDN’T know what would happen to everyone. As this season ALSO ends on a cliffhanger i’ve just sorta given up on things making 100% sense with canon now, but that’s not the point. The point is I was hyped going into this season all the way baby. So the question was did this season live up to that? The easiest way to answer that is under the cut... well the easiest answer would be yes and no but that dosen’t make for a good review/deep dive into the season now does it? So join me after the read more won’t you?
Changing For Better and for Worse So to start us off let’s talk about the changes between seasons. Season 3 returns to the more serialized style of season 1 as while Season 2 had an overarching story, it was a bit more episodic from week to week, especially early on, likely due to network mandate. This is likely due to Season 2 having far more network interference: the move to Adult Swim first run in season 2, while better for getting the show an audience, also lead to FAR more network notes and stress, leading to bits Olan was unhappy with: he wanted the Lost Spy just to focus on Gary and Little Cato’s plot and was forced to add in the clarence plot, something I can agree sucked as said plot was not very good and in hindsight likely wasn’t because they were forced to add it. He also apparently didn’t like the literal Pissing Contest scene, which I can get as it’s a bit broad.. but I still love it for i’ts sheer ridiculousness and how it’s throughly rooted in character: apparently ventrxians are still cat like enough they piss on things to claim them as property, which is batshit enough, but everyone deciding to buy into this premise, with Gary willfully wizzing along with his future sun leading to an all out piss war? That’s just... it’s beautiful man.
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Added bits like Nightfall just.. not getting involved in this, Ash’s galaderial style boast, HUE just standing there and getting peed on, everyone taking a hydration break and of course the button of ash cheering at getting UTI just... I can’t gush enough about this entirely weird and entirely literal pissing match apparently.
Point is it’s clear from the return to a more seralized story that feels like one LONG story across 13 episodes instead of smaller stories building up to a big finish like most cable animated shows that both the show got more creative control back and that Olan feels more comfortable telling the show as one big season long story that segues into the next one big season long story. And i’m fine with that honestly. Other shows such as Frisky Dingo and Bojack Horseman have done wonders basically being one long story and in the era of streaming, where Season 3 will no doubt drop at some ponit on HBO Max, it’s perfectly designed for those who like to binge the hell out of a season in one go. It made covernig it week to week too difficult to keep doing that, but i’m wholly for it and if it’s what Olan wants for the series i’m all for it.
It also worked far better for this season’s plot line: Last season was more of a treasure hunt, so it could easily flow as individual episodes eventually stacking up. This season is about our heroes desperately trying to survive in the most hostile environment imaginable. It fit perfectly to go back to one big arc as we genuinely DIDN’T know if the cast would make it out and it helped with the tension: we honestly wouldn’t know if anyone was safe till likely the very last minute of the season.. and as we saw.. they STILL weren’t.
This leads me into another major change: the tone. With things have escalated and our heroes now stuck inside Invictus’ home turf the mood was often extremley bleak. The show never lost it’s humor mind: Gary’s freakout when finding out he’s in the origin place of the KVNS, Avacato and Gary’s ho yay reaching an ALL TIME HIGH with them standing shirtless in a field together via psychic connection, the entire bit with Little Cato not realizing Gary and Quinn were about to have sex (”Go.. go play with grandma!”), the cookie turret, I could go on> The show had enough humor to help with the dark tone and ballance it out.
The only real issue with the darker tone was that , much like fellow bleak as hell show that still had some good goofy bits Bojack horseman the tone was a LOT to take at times. While Seasons 1 and 2 were still dark and still had moments that punched you in the emotional balls such as Avacato and Nightfall’s deaths, they were far more ballanced and there was far more of a sense of hope. Here.. it’s very clear our heroes are one step away from death at any moment, are often desparing and loose a LOT over the season with no real victories. Every win comes at a cost and while it works dramtically god was it draining to just watch these characters I truly cared about constnatly LOOSE everything they care about and instead of ending in triumpth it ends with Mooncake probably dead and Invictus triumphant and our heroes marveling at the horror they’ve unelashed. It’s just.. a LOT to ask to have the season be so overwhelmingly grim for our heroes.. and have it STILL end with our heroes starring down a lovecraftian version of galctus whose hearld not only was my faviorite character but killed the series kirby-esque mascot.
I still want to emphasise this dosen’t make the show BAD or anything and Olan is within his rights to ask a lot of us. I still care about the cast and still feel they can somehow fix this despite the odds massively stacked against them. And honestly i do prefer an ending that’s nightmarish with little hope over Bojack horseman which would constantly set us up that things would get bette ronly to knock us back down again. Worse before it gets better is better than “It’ll get better.. we promise... “ while laughing behind your back. Still love that show too by the way. I just hope there’s a little more hope next season to help ballance out the utter hell our characters go thorugh like seasons 1 and 2 to make the bitter but wonderful medicine go down easier is all.
But if you want an actual problem I had with the season, i’m glad to point you to was the weaker team dyanmics. Part of what drew me to the show were the interesting interpersonal relationships: Season 1 started it off great with Gary as the clear center and having a unique dynamic with everyone in the cast, but Season 2 is so great to me in part because it evolved that: it was no longer just about gary and everyone played off each other well. You had a LOT of intresting balls in the air: Clarence and Gary hating each other’s guts, Clarence’s kids loving him dearly, Ash’s weird friendship and pseudo relationshpi that cycled firmly back to friendship this season with LIttle Cato and her bonding with nightfall, Little Cato and Fox having a rivarly thanks to racial tensions, HUE’s bitter snarking turned romance with Ava, everyone but apparently fox being annoyed with KVN... there was a LOT of good character stuff in the season and the cast of characters just really bounced off each other well comedically and storywise.
This season dosen’t lack that entirely as theirs still tons of good dynamics, if it did I wouldn’t think of the season all that positively but it feels like there was less effort put in to make this version of the team squad feel like a choesive team/family. While there were still existing dynamics carried over: Gary and everyone, Quinn with Gary and HUE, Little Cato with Ash and his Dad, etc, there didn’t feel like a lot of effort to bring in new ones. Fox is killed off WAY too soon, something i’ll go into more when I talk about Ash, Sheryl only starts getting dyanmics with everyone 2/3 of the way into the season for no adaquate reason, and Biskit is just kinda thrown in there and dosen’t really have a solid relationship with anyone except Gary. They just don’t feel like a cohesive group. Sure their disfunctionl and frankly disfunctional group of outcasts who are like family is my jam, but those setups usually also have clear dynamics like the JLI or the crew of the lost light. Here there’s something.. missing that wasn’t missing last time, a sense of warmth. IT’s easily the second weakest part of the season.
Finally before we get into characters we have the pacing of the season which is also a bit weak: it feels like things are a bit too sped up to the point it often feels like they jump from one plot point to another. They throw a LOT of things at you: ash aging up, ash turning to the dark side.
Gary’s complicated feelings with his mom, Tribore’s bullshit, The KVN Net Quinn’s final space poisoning, everyone getting final space poisoning, Bolo dying, clarence dying, my baby boy dying, my baby boy blob dying, lttiel cato being a prince, Lord Commander.... it’s not like some of those plots don’t lack merit they do but their tryign to cram ALL of them into 13 episodes. It felt like Olan got a bit too overambitious and overexterted himself trying to fit ALL of this into 13 episodes and some of it suffered. I get being afraid that you won’t get everything in on a network bad at giving shows more than three seasons I do, but when your actively planning for and sequel baiting for a fourth in the finale you can afford to slow the hell down a little. Even She Ra, as heavily seralized as it was, still found time for character exploration in it’s darkest and most intense season with the final one. And that was the same number of episodes, the same run time, more characters to juggle, and a whole series to wrap up.
So we move on to characters and to get this out of the way one of them is easily the biggest issue I have with the season
Tribore Can Fuck Himself:
Yeah that wasn’t subtle but my feelings towards this annoying triclops aren’t. I didn’t mind him in Seasons 1 and 2. In season 1 he was comic relief that turned out to be secretly badass and in season 2 he had some truly funny moments, especially his subplot in “Arachnatechts” where he keeps circling back to the same bar and ends up acomplishing nothing for the main plot.
But this season he became INSUFFERABLE. While his new son Quastranastro was fine, though I think the “gag” of him speaking only spanish isn’t funny at best and is midly offensive at worst, and has a great dynamic being more serious than his dad, Tribore himself just felt unnecessary. His plot leading people out of final space accomplished nothing other than making sure he was on the other side to reactivate the bridge.. something that could’ve happened anyway by simply having him gather refugees off screen or giving him maybe one subplot. Instead he takes up the subplots of at least three episodes in a season that as seen above BADLY needed the room for more character interaction and better story pacing.
While the show does have other comic relief characters in KVN and Biskit both serve actual purposes: KVN is invunerable and can fly so he can be useful in a pinch, and proves invauable in the season’s climax, and said invunerablity is a nice set up for the KVN Net. Biskit is both more entertaning and provides a tech guy for the teach squad, something they really didn’t have before. They had scientests sure but no one who was a gadgeteer genius. They needed a rocket racoon type.
Tribore.. adds nothing. He has no character arc, isn’t funny enough most of the time to support things, and just shows up randomly to eat up screentime. The last two seasons he provided backup this season he.. opens a door. A roll which could’ve been honestly left to Clarence had the let him live or even to that one guy wtih the ass arm who liked him a lot whose name I don’t know how to spell. Tribore feels MEANINGLESS this season and clashes badly with the far grimer tone and stakes without providign levity or an escape beacuse your just wanting to get BACK to the characters you care about no matter how bleak their situation is. Part of why the last part of the season is so good is he’s GONE. HOPEFULLY Olan dials him back next season because while I could take the series other flaws as the good was enoguh to counterballance I can’t take another season of this dickhead parading around.
Child Of Darkness and Light:
So we go from the character I hated most to my faviorite. Ash was an instant faviorite to me along with her brother Fox so naturally her turn to the dark side dark phoenix style is a mixed bag for me. The concept, despite robbing me of the character I knew isn’t bad: Ash slowly sucummbing to her worst impulses, her rage and impuslviness, and listening to the worst person possible at the worst possible time. It honestly reminds me of the Dark Phoenix Saga and frankly, for all the faults I have with how this storyline was executed it’s STILL a better and more gripping Dark Phoenix Saga adaptation than either of the x-men movies that tried that.
For those of you who wonder what a Dark Phoenix Saga is or if it relates to that shitty last X-Men movie the latter answer is yes, obviously and the first is that it was a storyline in the X-Men comic books. And as some of you may know I bring up X-Men a lot in this blog so the comparison coming to mind was inevitible really.
It focused on Jean Grey, one of the original X-Men and at the time a young woman in her 20′s or so who nearly died saving the X-Men from a spaceship crash only to be reborn as the godlike Phoenix, having powers far beyond what she could ever have dreamnt of before and said power scaring her a bit. Eventually after some other stories she and The X-men got in a fight with Magneto and assumed the X-Men were Dead because Beast told her no one could’ve surivived that despite the fact you know, his mentor faked his death, the x-men have surivived deaths lots of times and molten lava really isn’t a match for Storm, Cyclops or Banshee’s powers. Then again the X-Men likewise assumed Jean was dead for the same reasons despite her having the powers of a god so maybe everyone just hit their head real hard in that storyline.
Point is Jean was mentally gaslighted and manipulated by Jason Wyngarde, aka Mastermind, an old foe of the X-Men hoping to join the Hellfire Club, a bunch of fancy assholes in victorian dominatrix gear who wanted to conquer the world. His intent was to turn her into a living weapon totally enthralled with him by both seducing her in the present using a glamour and making her frequently think she was in the past, endulging her darker impulses so she’d be more useful.
As you can imagine fucking around with the emotions of a god backfired badly for the asshat as eventually, as his killing Cyclops, Jean’s boyfriend, in her head durin ga psychic sword fight, long story, this naturally pissed her off enough to break his control and drive her insane. The jump was a bit abrubt but the resutls, jean turning her costume dark and turning into a vengeful dark goddess who ate an entire solar system, were horrifying as they were decently set up, ending tragically in Jean killing herself while lucid via a space laser, again long story, to end this nightmare. Of course later retcons would reveal this was a clone of jean made from her memories and etc but that’s not the point.
My point is a saga with a tragic ending starring a young woman given too much power too fast and manipulated by a creepy dickhead, if not sexually this time thank fucking christ, who wants to use said power for their own ends.. sounds familiar don’t it?
So the setup is right the character is sorta right and the concept is right.. so why dosen’t any of this feel right? It’s simple.. they kinda forced it a bit too much.
It started out okay: Ash finds out her powers come from invictus and confronts him, with Invictus giving her three days to decide who side she’s on, aging her up a few years while also giving her a second eye and a nifty new outfit and haircut. It’s not a bad concept: a lost of innocence and the hard choices we face as adults via metaphor. It’s good stuff.
And it continued to be good through the next step but not without serious issues of it’s own: Invictus had taken Fox, something I was eh about as it meant Fox would have no real time to interact with Avacato or Quinn. But I figured hey we’ll get some good evil ron funches, and he’ll be back eventually right?
God DAMMIT Olan. Yeah I was not okay with this.. and not just because I genuinely loved the character, love Ron Funches and had hoped season 3 would flesh him out more. Instead while it did give him a gripping backstory.. fox died 5 episodes in, tragically and with no real chance of coming back like Avacato did.
Admitely I do like the idea of Invictus setting up a self fufilling prophecy: saying Gary will kill fox then forcing gary to do so using his evil magic whatever it is. And the death scene itself is genuinely gripping, with Gary pleading “No please no”, Ash’s horrified and devistated reacton and an ambigoius moment wher eyou genuinely can’t tell if Fox came back in the last few seconds.. or Bollo was right and he was truly dead.
The problems however are sadly all too present for the scene’s momentum to hold. The first it again wastes a character we barely got to know despite being around a full season and having an interesting personality and backstory, and who never really got to interact with Avacato or Quinn before his death. The second.. is that it makes Ash come off like a moron. Look I get Ash is impuslvie and prone to anger, it is a thing with her. But she’s NOT dumb. A bit unhinged and violent sure but dumb no.
The problem is, especailly after rewatching the scene for the above gag.. .the scene MAKES her come off as really dumb. Invictus tells her Gary will kill fox eventually.. and then MAGICALLY Fox shows up in the dream world with her and is being all sweet despite last being seen possessed, is trying to convince her the creepy horn demon who gave her powers and transformed her on two seprate occasoins neither with her consent their cool now, and is suddenly stabbed by Gary who was VISABLY SCREAMING HE DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS WHILE PURPLE ENERGY COURSED AROUND HIS ARM SWORD.
It just makes Ash into someone as gullible as Knuckles the Fucking Echidna and it hurts my brain a lot
The next step in her arc is with Forgiveness, probably the best episode of the season but one that makes her arc confusing as Ash rushes off in anger.. and finds Evira, a genderless blue space being that she hits it off with. They smash stuff and have a gay old time, subtly revealing that Ash is presumibly the queer character Olan mentioned before this season, and helping Ash let go of her anger by appreciating the beauty of the world. It’s really good stuff. And incredibly gay which as anyone whose been on this blog can attest to is something I can always get behind as I have tons of queer ships and this quickly became one of them.
The problems are not in this scene itself. .but it’s aftermath. Ash apparently forgives Gary only to turn around which is realistic enough, sometimes people don’t let go of things that easily and just hide it, but the show dosen’t hint at it so it comes off like it comes out of nowhere. More importantly despite introducing a gay romance for Ash... Evira vainshes. They never appear the rest of the season and while they’ll likely be back next season, it comes off as accidental queer baiting as a result. The fact Ash goes EVIL by the end of the season also comes off bad. I don’t think any of this was intentional, I just think Olan done goofed and didn’t think of any implications of this. The fact both of the episodes featuring Ash’s full heel turn aired during pride does not help. That said it’s still a better pride tie-in than “There’s Room For Everybody Under the Rainbow” or “Beat Up this bisexual for prizes”
And I only say fully confirmed because....
So after an episode with Sheryl where ash is tempted but seemingly rejects invictus and even helps exorcise a gary.. we get The Leaving. The Leaving is where this arc goes from decent, with ash tempted by her own self hatred and doubts to go to invictus.. to her deciding HE WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG! I’M TAKING LITTLE CATO, BYE!
It just feels fucking abrubt. Her resenting Quinn is an intresting idea but they didn’t develop it enough to feel natural and while her being upset at finding out Avacato lied would be a godo catalyst, the other episodes just don’t give me enough evidence she’d turn this quickly. Her wanting to leave WITH Little cato to get them away from Gary and Avacato makes sense. Little Cato is the only person on the Galaxy 2 she has left and she wants to protect him. I liked that. .but her suddenly going to invictus and trusting him just makes no sense. He took her brother in th efirst place! I don’t mind her having some doubt, maybe invctus actually works to convice her but no. invctus gets a hearald soley because the plot says “whelp ash goes evil about here.
Her actions in the finale also just feel.. off in places. While I like the idea of her reveling in her power and not feeling powreless, again it’s not all bad and the confrontation with Gary and Avacato is hella tense, with her genuinely wanting to help Little Cato and the two dads forced to confront her..It’s just spoiled by everything around her: HUE aburbtly turns on her instead of trying to help her too, not tha thtey were close but still, Gary only says “I’m sorry we failed you” and dosen’t try to save her at any point... it just seems like everyone but Spidercat, Thunderbandit and Mooncake wrote ash off the moment she came back and instead of using that for drama they just kinda ignore it.
Her killing Mooncake also feels.. forced. Like “okay we have to have her be evil now”. But it just dosen’t feel like she’s far gone enough when episodes ago Mooncake is the person who got her ot return home. It’s just aw eird 180 to spite gary when again GARY DID NOTHING WRONG AND YOU SAW IT AND COME OFF AS A MORON FOR NOT SEEING IT. Even getting I myself can be iratoinal COME ON. It’s just a sad waste of a good arc and my favorite character, especially since Ashly Burch, whose come to be one of my favorite voice actors, brought her goddamn a game all season and is the only thing that made this arc’s ending tolerable is her good voice acting. And even she strained to make this work at all. Gah.
Dying is Easy Baby, Living is Harder
Going from the worst character arc to the best character arc, we have Avacato. I was utterly floored when Olan brought him back last season, his return being easily the biggest swerve of the season. I was optimsitic Olan would do something good with it and had good reason for this.. and was throughly right.
Avacato easily had the most gripping arc of the season, with us learning on just the depths of who he used to be: a remorsless killer who simply killed because it’s what he was good at, a butcher with no purpose.. until Lord Commander came knocking and offered something better... a cause.. a better galaxy and all the killing he could ever want to make it so.
So Avacato gladly killed the king and queen of ventrxia who trusted him dearly.. only to change in one moment. .finding their baby son, HIS son, among the wreckage and taking him in, never telling his boy what he’d done out of shame. With this one hell of a reveal the entire character is upended. As Avacato puts himself in the finale “You saved me”. By raising this kid he went from a butcher for a monster.. to a loving father who’d do anything to protect his adopted son and try and attone for his past. He knows he can’t possibly even the scales but he can damn well do his best anyway.
And while this was already great in it’s debut, setting up a time bomb to go off any time in the season, it hit it’s peak with the best scene in the season and possibly the series: With Gary at his lowest, his guilt over Fox’s death swallowig him, Avacato picks this moment to confess. The resulting acting from Olay and Coty is just.. majestic.
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Seriously just the quivering in his voice , the sheer pain as he tells gary what he did, Gary’s utter HORROR at what his best friend did, that no matter how much he loves Avacato.. what he did to his son outweighs that and both snapping at each other: Gary calling him a coward (not unfairly), and Avacato saying “You murdered fox”. Just the raw emotoin in the acting and animation here.. I don’t have enoguh words. It’s freaking beautiful. The only reason this isn’t the best scene of the year is because it’s not over yer.. and because “I’d Have You Dad” happened. But it’s damn fucking close to that scene in terms of emotion and the fight that insues is just brutal, two friends, frayed emotoinally and at their lowest ponits just wailing on each other for catharsis. I cannot praise this scene enough.
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Or it’s direct followup, whcih I consider part of it. Olan... really shined this season as Gary. While he was decent to start, a bit shouty but fine he hit his stride last season and just climbed higher this season, with this speech being his peak (though the zombie gary scene is a close second). This speech is raw, emotional and speaks to who gary is. He dosen’t mince word at what Avacato’s done or how much it’s going to hurt Little Cato when he finds out the truth.. but he forgives his friend. At Avacato’s lowest, curled up in a ball begging his best friend to cast him aside for this.. Gary refuses. He knows what his friend did was terrible.. but he knows he’ll do his damndest to fix this and did what he did. That he can be better for his boy and deserves better than to be thrown out. More on gary in a bit.
So while Avacato starts to recover the strain of things eats away at him till he breaks down to Gary after Little Cato asks about his mom. Unfortunately Ash was listening, all that happens.. but the real shining moment is in the finale. Faced with what he did, his past sins coming back to haunt him and Ash ready to stand as his executioner, he tells him what he did... but what Ash can’t grasp in her anger.. is that Avacato still loves his boy, that he did something terrible, he killed his birth parents, he lied to him his whole life.. but he loves that kid. Little Cato saves him and while he may not deserve his son.. he loves him more than anything and always will. And that coupled with Gary’s words reunites father and son. The road no doubt won’t be smooth now the truth is out there.. but it’s bound to be damn excellent and I can’t wait to see it.
And the Rest:
So breaking down the rest of the cast, as those were the two bigger arcs, we start iwth Gary. As I said moments ago, Olan is at his fucking peak this season, a season that puts the poor guy through the wringer as he finds his girlfriend dying from poisoning, finds out his best friend/boyfriend murdered someone, has a well meaning gesture to stay behind nearly kill him, has to fight zombie versions of himself, has to watch as an alternate version of himself slowly dies, watches his best hope get beheaded, his son get kidnapped, his surrogate daughter go to the darkside because he was forced to stab her bother, and to put the cherry on the crap sunday, watches his other best friend die horribly by said surrogate daughter’s hand’s ushering an elder god into his universe.
So yeah he gets a LOT of good character stuff here. Besides all the stuff from forgivness he also gets a hell of a moment taking in Quinn’s pain for her knowing it might kill him but doing so anyway and one in the finale tellnig ash “Sorry we failed you”. It just shows off that beneath the lairs of weirdo and cookies lurks one of the most heroic, kind, and noble characters i’ve seen in a cartoon. He’s gone from blowing up ships by sheer incompence and semi-stalking a woman he barely knew to a loving father, partner and friend who takes every loss to heart and tries his damndest to make sure it dosen’t happen again. Gary is at his best here.
Quinn got some much needed fleshing out this season. Her horrifying past with her awful bitch of a mother who forced her into a corpse room and her self hatred over not saving her sister (something that is not at al lher fault to begin with), make for some compelling television. It gives her “I have to do it all by myself” characterization that was so damn annoying in season one context, that she has to.. because she has an inbuilt martyr complex. The season also deconstructs it heavily, with the KVN Net fiasco being entirley on her shoulders and Avacato rightly calling her out.
They do and don’t fix her relationship with Gary from Season 1. See my problem there is it escalated pretty quickly from him trying to stalk her to a deep relationship. Here they do give them some time to breathe and the actors have genuine chemstry.. but it still is hard to to take this relationshpi seriously when you realize they’ve been together exactly two months, and that Gary spent at least 6 months hunting for a way to save someone he barely knew. It’s not bad there are really precious moments between the two, I just wish we got some more depth as to WHY they like each other that isn’t just...
Finally there was this weird thing where Olan seemed to think Nightfall IS this Quinn... he .. he does remember he set up last season that Nightfal lisn’t a version of this unvierse’s Quinn right? But we weirdly get her assuming she’s going to become nightfall without eve rmentioning that and Nightfall somehow predicting what she’d do. I dunno it just feels off.. I don’t mind ruminating on if a chracter will become a future version of herself but the timelines have diverged enough that shoudln’t be an issue.
HUE got the shaft this season, being relegated to the computer, but he was still a delight when he showed up and I get his shunting to the computer was to help weed down the cast as even with Fox killed off way too quickly our main cast still consists of 9 characters WITH HUE and that’s not including important side characters like Tribore, Bolo, Quastronastro and Kevin. The reveal in the finale however was awesome enough to make up for it and i love his bulky new body. Gonna come in handy at the end of the world i’ll tell you what.
KVN is KVN. He’s mildly annoying at times, utterly hliarious at others. He’s always been this way but unlike Tribore he’s more tolerable. While like Tribore no one in the main cast really LIKES him, unlike Tribore KVN suffers enough phsycial punishment and scorn from everyone else on a regular basis to even it out.
Sheryl was a good addition.. but they sadly took their sweet time doing anything with her, with Sheryl getting maybe a line or two or a big damn heroes moment early on. Thankfully as the season went on we got a few nicer character moments from her: Gary finding out she really came to protect HIM and has lost her obessive and destructive desire to get John back, really truly being there for her son. While I wish they’d focused more on Gary adjusting to his mom actually loving him now, this was still nice. But with the rest of the episodes she got nice character moments with everyone that showed she really had changed: She has a nice team up with Avacato, tries to help Ash sympathizing with her drifting nature but hoping she’ll make the right choice, and gets a great moment with Quinn in the finale encouraging her that she isn’t entirely nightfall and that...
All in all I liked her even if she was underused.
Little Cato was great this season, Steven Yuen was graet as always but he was kinda put off to the side. His dad’s arc grappling with the fact he killed LC’s parents is more about Avacato than his son, and LIttle Cato is really just a supporting player in most other characters arcs. It’s not a bad thing though as he got plenty of focus last season and will no doubt get more next season. Unlike the abrupt death of Fox I don’t feel they wasted Little Cato and he still had plenty to do he just dind’t have an arc of his own and again with what he know snow, that’s clearly going to change. Yuen also got some great work in, showing that even though he’s now been nominated for an oscar and has a major starring role as ...
He’s still got it in the roll that really made me a fan of him after I became aware the guy existed thanks to a failed attempt to make a movie out of Chew.
Mooncake is Mooncake. Like KVV he dosen’t really cahnge.. but he sure can die though. Jesus that was crushing.
Biskit was a nice addition to the cast. While like KVN and Tribore he’s clearly comic relief that dosen’t really suffer emotionally, he seperates himself for both by both being extremley funny after a while and extremley useful, providing a tech person where the team had none before and having some fun gags including his apparently having merch in the ship’s gift shop, and telling Little Cato about his seminar “If you have to ask you can’t afford it!” He was just a fun little ball of crazy in a period of immense darkness, my only beef being I wish they explained his two episode abseence. He NEEDED to be absent for Fox’s death and the mourning after, but they could’ve explained why offhand.
Moving onto supporting we have Bolo who was great if underultized. Look i’m always up for some keith david.
So naturally i’ve always loved Bolo and he got some awesome moments, though I am curious why he and gary having beef went nowhere. Otherwise he was good. His Cookie Guardiian on the other hand...
But yeah Bolo was great he just didn’t get to do much after the first few episodes beyond get highlandered.
Kevin Van Newton was a good addition, with Tom Kenny really getting to flex his crazy old man muscles again and the twist Nightfall contacted him was genius. He was a ncie cranky old man and while his death was tragic he was around just long enough to not overstay his welcome. Don’t have much else to say about him so heres a present barfing nutritious neco wafers on children
Invictus.. isn’t the strongest vilian to me. Their terrifying, have great powers and great skill.. but we don’t know WHAT they are, why their doing all this, or what thier goal is which makes them just come off as a generic god level monster. It’s part of what made the Ash arc not quite work: Invictus just dosen’t have the personality to come off as convincingly decptive so Ash comes off like an idiot for trustnig the demonic voice that already stole her brother. I will say the animation for Invictus is damn terrific and the zombie gary’s are just genuinely terrifying. Seeing our loveable heroic goofus reduced to decayed deranged fanon fodder for our main bad guy is utterly horrific and always terrifying and I can’t wait to see even more next season. Hopefully next season makes invictus a better villina.
Thankfully we got the series BEST villian back.
David Tennant is back as the Lord Commander and my god I missed his presence. He’s still a depraved, utterly terrifying monster but now has an intresting dynamic with invictus: forced to serve someone else and left on the receiving end of someone else being a shitty boss. He’s just a delight.. the character hasn’t changed really at all but that’s fine with me.
He also WINS for a while, getting his titan body, a shocking twist I did NOT SEE COMING. The horrifying image of this monster even MORE powerful and emerging from earth’s remains.. that’s fucking iconic. His tearing up Invictus’ minions and telling him “Now to rmeind you who I am was awesome”. Sadly intead of overthrowing invictus.. he ended the season put in a box.
Hopefully he finds someway out as i’td be awesome to see him and the team squad
Finally we have Clarence. While he only had one episode I felt Conan acted his ass off here and he got an emotional sendoff. I generally never expected to forgive the little fart nocker but here we are. I also did love the gag of bringing back every minor character from season 2 and the dewinters to plauge our hero as he tried to save everyone and his tearful final moment tugged at the heart. That being said the one complaint I have is no one saw his sacrifice yet Ash behaves as if she knows her father died
Final Thoughts:
So on the whole the season isn’t BAD. It has plenty of tension, the music, animation and voice cast are top notch and it had some great character work.
I do feel the season coul’dve been BETTER though, with the lack of real work on team dynamics, sloppy pacing, sloppy treatment of ash and sloppy joes on top of a certain green asshat wearing a fetching beret really held the season back from being as great as it could’ve been. This show is still one of the best out there but I hope it can get back to it’s best self next season. But I will gladly line up: even if I had trouble with this season I will always love this show. It’s back to back for life and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
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#final space#olan rodgers#adult swim#tbs#gary goodspeed#avacato#little cato#quinn argon#tribore menendez#ash grayven#fox#clarence#invictus#the lord commander#lord commander#david tennant#sheryl goodspeed#bolo#keith david
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Not A Loser Anymore Chapter 2
Morgan felt pretty damn pissed that she hadn’t followed Clay when he left the bar. She stood looking up at the burnt remains of his hotel. Fuck, she’d spent months watching him and his fellow assholes. Watching to make sure something idiotic and news catching like a fucking hotel catching fire. Shit. Oh he had made absolutely good on his promise that his team were responsible, she groaned and walked back to her own small hotel.
Where would they end up next? She had to think that they wouldn’t stick around after something this massive happened. After all, if they were found faking their own deaths, then they’d be up shit creek without a paddle. She was always their paddle in shit creek. Keeping their lifeboat above the rushing water, until they truly needed her.
She sat down on the crappy bed that her hotel provided. At least there weren’t bugs, she thought, holding her head as she considered what had gone so horribly wrong that she was sitting in fucking Bolivia doing recon to keep her former team safe from themselves.
WEEKS BEFORE THE OP IN BOLIVIA
“Fuck you, Clay!” She’d screamed, slamming the door of his bedroom as she stomped out to the main living area of their base. She didn’t pay attention to the open mouthed stares that the rest of her team were giving her. She wasn’t aware that she’d left every piece of her clothing behind with Clay and was stalking to her own room in nothing but her bra and the briefest scrap of lace that could barely be called panties covering her.
Morgan hadn’t wanted to be unprofessional. She fought against ever repeating their first meeting. He was her superior officer. Her BOSS for fuck’s sake. She’d left the note, as impersonal as it could get, and scurried from her apartment the morning after simply because that wasn’t her. She was a fucking doctor and a professional. So waking up next to him, even if he was the best sex she’d ever had, was a nightmare. She would have blamed the booze, but she hadn’t felt that tipsy when she pushed him against the building steps away from the bar. She definitely wasn’t drunk when he slammed her against her front door and fucked her senseless. Or the multiple other times they came together that night. When the light of dawn woke her, she’d been pressed against his chest, his arms holding her tight, and his head pressed against hers.
It felt good, but it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, and dangerous to her career. She booked it after jotting down that fucking note. The note they just fought over, again. After another slip off the wagon that she was on trying to keep from fucking her boss. Again. And again. And again. Worst recovering addict ever.
And every single time after that first night, Clay had to remind her that she ran. That she didn’t trust what they felt enough to stay and talk to him. Usually he waited until they were naked and at least partially sated, but tonight he started as they were taking their clothes off. And ruined it by making her feel like an idiot. Reminding her early the reasons she had rushed out that first morning. Reminding her how wrong their screwing around was, and as it was, how wrong this whole fucking situation was for them. For the team. For him and for her.
She was clothed and packing when she heard a knock on her door. Fuming, but certain it wasn’t Clay she grunted her assent for her visitor to come in. It was Jensen. Tech geek, and sweetheart, even if he was the most awkward human on the planet. Shame really, because he was very attractive.
“Mo,” he started, seeing her bags being filled with her shit. “Come on, Mo, this too shall pass.”
She rolled her eyes and glared at him. “No, Jensen, it won’t. That’s the problem. It never passes, not for long.” Morgan sighed and tossed the last of her possessions in her duffle. Zipping it up, she sat down on her bed and tried to smile at the computer nerd with arms of a Greek god. “Look, I can’t stay, not anymore. Cougar is a great medic, you guys don’t need me.” She forced herself to stand. “I have to go, fuck this stress is worse than putting aloe on the burned ass of monkey.” Grabbing her duffle and suitcase, she walked to the door of her room. “Don’t worry, Jen, I’m sure I’ll see you again.” He leaned down and she kissed his cheek. “Tell the others bye for me, would you?” He nodded and she was gone.
A WEEK AFTER THE OP WENT WRONG
Morgan could still see the commanding officer coming to her door. She couldn’t understand why they came to her, until he told her that Clay had named her as his next of kin. The officer stood in front of her saying all the usual platitudes that came from informing someone their loved one was dead in the line of duty. Even if it was unsanctioned. Even if it was a fuck up of massive proportions.
She had stopped the man, just as he was telling her that she would be given the folded flag, “What did they find?”
“Ma’am?” The officer asked, trying to understand her question.
“Of the bodies, what was found?” She asked, watching the man’s face. He looked uncomfortable. “They did find bodies, didn’t they?”
“It was a helicopter crash of sorts, ma’am.” He looked down at his shiny boots. “There wasn’t much left of anything, they found the dog tags of the team.”
She nodded, feeling that Clay and the team weren't dead at all. And she’d make it her mission to find out just what the hell had happened.
It had taken months. Months of bureacratic red tape and calling in every favor she’d ever made over her years of saving lives, or at least saving the shame of some idiotic decisions. She struggled, and fought against giving up, but in the end it had paid off.
The OP was requested on the behest of some shadowy figure called “Max.” Morgan couldn’t find much to prove Max was a human, but clearly he had to be. It wasn’t a mission she’d known about when she left the team, so it had to be one that wasn’t given much planning, which didn’t sound like Clay at all. The man was an asshole, but he was careful with his people.
From what she could gather, it was supposed to be a simple in and out type of job. So why were so many people dead? And why did Clay take the team underground? Morgan had realized that she’d have to go to Bolivia. Finding out information on the ground would have to be easier than pulling teeth in the U.S.
Finding them was easier than she’d expected. She had set up her headquarters in a small rundown, but clean hotel on the edge of town. Walking down the main street the first night, and there he was. Dressed in that damn dark suit of his, with the white shirt gleaming against his tanned skin, she nearly tripped. He walked into the very dive bar she watched him in the night of the fire, and every night after.
She didn’t only focus on Clay, though she was itching to find out why he’d choose her of all people as next of kin. No, she found Jensen and Cougar working at a baby doll factory, of all places. Jensen was always easy to pick out of the crowd with his loud t-shirts that barely held together under the strain of his muscles. Cougar was also fairly simple to pick out of a crowd. Women flocked to the sniper who didn’t use many words. And eventually she’d seen Roque and Pooch, too.
Confirming they weren’t dead, she wondered about Pooch. His wife was due to have a baby, and soon. That had to make this self imposed “death” difficult on them both. She’d checked in on Jolene before making the trip. She found the pregnant woman as disbelieving as she was that they were dead. Her reason? Pooch’s wedding ring wasn’t with his dog tags. Why would he suddenly take it off the chain if he hadn’t been alive to keep it?
Morgan agreed with Jolene, and Jensen’s sister when she checked on her before leaving for Bolivia. Same story, with less proof and more of a feeling. Funny how only the women seemed to realize that the story didn’t mesh with the men they knew.
And so, Morgan kept watch. She knew her former team. Knew all of them well enough to know that one of them would fuck up, and she had hoped that she’d be able to swoop in and make sure the fuck up wouldn’t end up with them actually dying.
A WEEK AFTER THE HOTEL FIRE
Morgan was on her cell phone, rolling her eyes at the dickhead on the other end. “No, I don’t want to know about the endangered animals being smuggled into the United States. I’m sure it’s a terrible and horrifying situation, but what I TRULY need to know is whether there have been any strange shipments scheduled to come into the states that don’t seem ‘right’ to you.” She sighed, “Look Skippy, I’m sure that the plight of the average custom’s agent is just fucking the most stress a human could possibly experience, but if you don’t tell me what I want to know, the stress you’re feeling is going to be raised by one hundred percent.” She listened as he described the plane. The caskets. The number of caskets. Nodding, she jotted the information down on a napkin. “Well, thanks Skippy. I’m glad that we don’t have to meet face to face after all, but I promise, you and your team can expect a nice surprise for lunch.”
Guess I’m headed to Florida, Morgan sighed to herself. She’d been surprised when she learned that the team was coming back to the states. It wasn’t that difficult to get some information, but the U.S. isn’t exactly a shoebox, so she had to finagle more information, and Skip with US Customs was one of the tactics she had to use. Grabbing her duffle that she kept packed and lived out of, she was calling using it to find a flight as she rushed downstairs and into the open.
She hadn’t taken two steps before colliding with a wall of muscle. Damn it. Looking up she literally groaned out loud. “Roque.” She said, glaring up at Clay’s second in command. “What a pleasure.” She glanced down at her phone, locking the screen so he didn’t have a chance to see the flight information.
“You don’t sound surprised to see me,” Roque said, stepping back and crossing his arms across his chest. “In fact, you don’t seem shocked that I’m in this pissant town.”
Morgan bit her lip and looked up at him. “Did you guys really think that people who KNOW you would believe that a helicopter crash without the right number of bodies and just your dog tags left behind would be proof that you were dead?” She scoffed. “Pooch kept his wedding band. Jensen’s sister said the online view of the Petunia soccer games is showing someone watching faithfully from BOLIVIA of all fucking places. And Clay? He was dumb enough to name me his next of kin.” She unzipped her duffle and pulled out the folded flag and handed it to Roque. “I thought he’d like to have his flag.”
“Mo-” She shook her head, stopping him. He held the flag loosely in his hands. He knew that Clay and her relationship was complicated at best, and screwed from the beginning at worst, but this, her here?
“Look,” she said, another sigh and tipping her head back to look up at him. “I got used to keeping all of you in one piece. I had to make sure you were all alright. I-”
“Had to see him again for yourself.” Roque finished, pulling her into his arms. “Fuck, Clay and you, never quite understood it, but he shouldn’t have put this on your shoulders, Mo.”
She shrugged in his arms. “I wanted to be sure that all of you were safe. I know-” she stopped, giving up intel would suck, but she had to know their plans. Or at least something to keep her sanity about them staying safe. “I know you’re heading back to America. I know you won’t tell me anything, but-” She closed her eyes, pushing away the pain of not being with them, with HIM. “Tell me you’re going to be safe. Tell me that, and I’ll happily go back to my house. I’ll start up with the hospital that wants me so badly they can taste it, and I’ll move on.”
Roque’s arms stiffened around her. He heard her pain. The pain of being apart from Clay and from their ragtag group. Mostly, he thought, from being apart from Clay. He didn’t trust the new girl. He didn’t believe her story or her insistence about what she wanted. Clay could be completely fucking ridiculous, but this chick? She was going to bring them low. How could he promise Morgan that they’d be safe when he didn’t believe it himself. “I’ll promise that we’ll stick together, Mo. I’ll promise that I have their backs and they got mine. That’s all I can promise.”
She nodded and drew back. “Guess that’ll have to do, won’t it?” Her eyes were glassy and Roque realized he’d never seen Morgan cry. Pissed, screaming, and bossy he’d seen all that with her, but this? She was broken. He tried to hand her the flag, but she shook her head. “That’s Clay’s. Give it to him. Tell him goodbye.” He watched as she got in a waiting cab and drove away. He remembered the night she left them all behind. Remembered how it changed Clay. This? This was going to be the reckoning.
Clay looked up from the intel that Aisha had given them about the plan to be smuggled back to the states. He heard Roque walk in and was about to call him over when his second thumped a folded triangle of the stars and stripes down on the table in front of him. “What the fuck?” Clay asked, looking up at the glaring face of a man he’d count on anytime in his life.
“Mo thought you’d like your flag.” Roque growled, throwing himself into a chair nearby. He looked up at Clay’s startled face. “Don’t worry, she’s gone.” “Gone?” Clay was afraid to touch the carefully folded flag, afraid he’d smell her on the fabric. “She was here?”
Roque nodded. “She was checking on a feeling she had about us. Mo knew we weren’t dead, Clay.” He glared up at his commander. “She saw us, all of us. And she wanted to know why you named her next of kin.”
Clay closed his eyes and fought the pain in his chest at the memory. He’d completely forgotten about that. He’d changed it when she joined them. He knew she’d be the only person on Earth he’d trust with his body, living or dead. “Fuck.” He gritted through his teeth. “What else does she know?” He had to force himself to the task at hand. Killing Max, hopefully getting their lives back.
Roque shrugged. “Not much, that she’d tell me anyway.” He pulled out one of his knives and rolled it between his hands. “She wanted me to tell you ‘goodbye’. She said it was time to move on.”
“Move on?” Clay growled. “Move on? Is that a fucking joke? She’s the one who walked out on us, Roque. Her, not me. She walked out and told Jensen to tell us goodbye the last time. Morgan fucking Dean has walked out on me more times than I can fucking count. Move on, well fine let her fucking move on.” He pushed the flag out of his way and went back to the plan. “Aisha wants to have us unloaded here-” He was showing Roque the plan, but in his mind he was remembering that night. The last night he’d seen her in the flesh.
Morgan had worn a dress that would make any grown man fall to his knees. Then, as though she wasn’t a fucking walking wet dream already, she’d started stripping for him. Baring her shoulders, that fucking blue lily tattoo on her right shoulder blade shining against her pink skin, he’d watched mesmerized.
She got down to the wisp of lace she jokingly called panties, and a bra that barely held her breasts. And what had he done? He opened his fucking mouth and ruined it. Again.
“You aren’t gonna run away as soon as we’re done, are you?” He’d been teasing, that’s what he told himself, but he didn’t believe it anymore. He was harboring the pain of waking up in her bed that first morning with the stupid note. He watched the pain flit across her face at the reminder. A reminder he gave EVERY goddamn time she gave herself to him. EVERY fucking time, but this time they didn’t even get to the giving part.
She glared at him, hands on her hips and feet shoulder width apart. A soldier, through and through. “Every time, Clay, every time.” She shook her head as he tried to tease the stupidity of his own fucking mouth away. “You know what, Clay?” She started for his door, and turned back long enough to give him that heated look that could either ignite his fire or douse it. “FUCK YOU, CLAY!” She slammed the door behind her.
Clay had sat on his bed, back against the wall, waiting. Usually she’d force herself back, to have even more of a verbal match, but she never came. He fumed that she’d just walk away, again. She always walked away. Always. It wasn’t until morning, when Jensen gave him a sad, but terrified look that he knew. She was gone. This time she wouldn’t just walk back in and get back to work.
His team had looked at him like he was the biggest fucking loser of them all. And for a while, he had to agree. As the other men joined Roque and him at the table, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t agree with the feeling like he’d ruined something. That he hadn’t pushed her right out the door that she’d slammed. That it wasn’t his butthurt pride that ruined his last time with Morgan. That looking at the flag they’d given her upon his death didn’t pierce right through him. Because that flag meant what words and screaming matched never did. She was done. Finished with him. And he had to blink away the pain, because she was his medic and she wasn’t here anymore.
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Mare of Easttown’s Saddest Moment Isn’t Even the Murder
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This article contains spoilers for Mare of Easttown episode 1.
There’s a dead body at the end of Mare of Easttown’s first episode. But you already knew that.
Even if you’ve not seen episode 1, “Miss Lady Hawk Herself”, you just intrinsically know that the HBO series starring Kate Winslet as an Eastern Pennsylvanian detective features a murder. That’s because crime dramas on television have developed a consistent, grim rhythm. From Broadchurch to True Detective to beyond, the first episode of any given crime drama will feature the discovery of a dead body.
The body in question will have belonged to a beautiful young person, often a woman, cut down in their prime. Detectives hover around the naked form with the same disappointed curiosity that one does for a cardinal that crashed into a window. Mare of Easttown episode 1 does not feature this exact scene, but it’s sure to come in episode 2 because the series’ first hour concludes with the pale, limp body of Erin McMenamin (identified by her blue fingernail polish) laying in a Chester County creek.
There’s something different about this deathly tableau this time though. The sight of that blue fingernail polish hurts even more because we’ve come to truly care for the person who painted it on. Though Mare of Easttown plays by the crime drama rules and gives the TV gods the spilt young blood they demand, the real tragedy of episode 1 is everything that comes before the murder.
Erin McMenamin (Cailee Spaeny) is ostensibly the second lead character of “Miss Lady Hawk Herself” alongside Miss Lady Hawk Herself (Winslet’s Mare Sheehan). She is the second Easttown resident the viewer meets, as she begins her day by telling her baby DJ “Sometimes I wonder if you even realize how much I love you.”
We then get to see Erin prove just how much she loves the wee baby DJ by the absolute day-to-day terror she must deal with to keep him safe and fed. Erin, a teenage mother, has to live with her father, Kenny (who is a huge asshole). She then is forced to hand DJ off to his father Dylan (who is an even bigger asshole). All the while she is tormented by Dylan’s new girlfriend Brianna (unquestionably the biggest asshole). Through it all, Erin must endure the constant high-level anxiety of not knowing how to pay for a crucial procedure that will fix DJ’s frequent ear infections.
Erin is not the kind of character we often get to see on television, because her struggles aren’t particularly sexy. On the contrary, the circumstances of her plight are depressingly normal. There is no drug addiction or death to be found (though Erin’s mom is conspicuously absent), only one ill-conceived night with a local dickhead that unfortunately ended up with a well-conceived pregnancy. That math of her life just simply doesn’t add up. She needs help, but cannot seem to find it.
Mare of Easttown knows that its greatest selling point is its sense of place. That’s why the series’ setting is in its title. It’s why much of the conversation around the project thus far has surrounded Winslet mastering the tremendously rare for television “Delco” accent. Location matters because it makes the characters that much more acute. In Erin’s case, it makes her feel more real and it makes what eventually happens to her all the more devastating.
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The most tragic moment of Erin’s arc in episode 1 isn’t her death – it’s what immediately precedes it. It’s one thing for a crime drama to take a young girl’s life. That’s come with the territory. Mare of Easttown sets itself apart by taking that young girl’s hope too.
Throughout “Miss Lady Hawk Herself” Erin makes mention of a nice man she’s talking to online.
“You know what he said to me the other night?” Erin tells her friend. “He said ‘I want you to dance again.’ That seriously like almost made me start to cry. You know how much I miss dancing.”
Erin doesn’t have time to dance. The cruelties of adulthood imposed themselves on her far too young for that. The promise that there could be someone out there could care about her enough that he would move heaven and earth just to see her dance again is intoxicating.
It’s also not real. For when Erin heads to the woods to meet with her romantic hero, she finds out she’s been catfished in the cruelest way imaginable.
“Erin, I want you to dance again,” Brianna mocks, before she and her crew beat the shit out of her for the crime of texting Dylan.
Pop culture has no shortage of awful bullies. In the works of Stephen King, the cruelty of children often far outstrips that of the actual monsters. But something about this moment with Brianna is particularly brutal. It’s damn near surgical in its malevolence. Erin didn’t ask for the world. She just wanted to dance, man. The world responded with a literal fist to her face.
The inclusion of this scene isn’t just for Mare of Easttown to prove that it can be crueler than your standard crime drama. It isn’t misery porn but rather reality…whatever the opposite of porn is (you’ll know if when you see it). The show’s investment in a sense of place extends far beyond Kate Winslet’s accent or a couple of Philadelphia Phillies bumper stickers slapped on on some walls in the background of shots.
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Mare of Easttown’s sense of place is an acknowledgement that Erins in Easttowns across the world struggle in silence every day. And we only have to pay attention when one turns up dead.
The post Mare of Easttown’s Saddest Moment Isn’t Even the Murder appeared first on Den of Geek.
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F.M.L. || SOLO
[8/23/2017 3:02:16 PM] Immo: well it's a good thing we won't send her up against monsters or anything >.> <.<
or
“Don’t try to intimidate me you scaly, drooling, yellow eyed, Mercedes ruining, snaggle toothed son of a bitch!”
“What are you doing?”
Blanche had been woken up from her nap on the couch, propping herself up to stair as her parents were loudly rummaging about. The hell— Blanche glanced at the time. “Dad? Don’t you have to be at work?” She shoved the covers off, snatched her crutches, and hobbled after him into the kitchen. She barely bothered to look for Granny—she still wasn’t speaking to her. She would lurk occasionally, giving her best silent treatment as they watched television and let out the ugliest ‘hmphs’ whenever Blanche tried to say something.
Her dad ignored her too. Blanche rolled her eyes.
“Dad!” Blanche had half a mind to jab him with her crutch. “I said: You have work, right?”
He sneered at her.
Blanche recoiled slightly. “I didn’t get another tattoo, if that’s what you were told.” she said, carefully. Her mother was digging through her purse, probably looking for her keys. If there wasn’t a day where her mom lost her car keys, there wasn’t a day at all. “Mom?” She had been home all week, trying to look after her. Blanche had always been pretty independent, but her mom has fussed, saying she wasn’t about to leave her poor daughter alone the week after she broke her leg.
But clearly, they seemed to be going somewhere. They even had their emergency luggage out.
“Um. Hello? Mom? Dad?” Blanche was blinking the sleepy from her eyes. Maybe some emergency medical thing?
Her mom looked up, snatching her car keys from the abyss that was her purse. “We’re leaving.”
Blanche had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Duh. Where?”
“Florida.”
“…. Come again?” Blanche stared at them in disbelief.
“We are going to Florida.”
“What?!” Blanche repeated. “Why? You literally hate Florida.”
“We no longer wish to be around you,” Her mom snapped, exasperated. Blanche realized how she sounded then—that didn’t sound like mom. And her dad was acting like an idiot—putting on two coats and grabbing the wrong briefcase.
Were they possessed??
“And how long will you be gone?!” Blanche demanded.
“Forever.” Her mom simply said. “We don’t wish to be with a disappointment of an offspring for any longer.”
That stung, but the use of the word offspring was definitely what tipped her off.
Blanche’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way you two are going anywhere!” As if on cue, both of her parents started to head for the front door. “Hey! Wait! Enough!!! Whatever is possessing my parents, get the fuck out! I’m not playing--” Blanche tried to hurry after them as fast as she could. She managed to snatch the front door, barely balancing with her crutches and holding on to the door. Rebecca had given her some stuff, hadn’t she? Maybe she could—
Her mom jerked the door out of her grip, and Blanche shrieked, tumbling backward onto her ass. Not even a minute later, she heard them drive off in her mom’s car.
“Son of a bitch!” Blanche swore, groaning slightly. That hurt. Her leg already hurt like a bitch, and falling did not help when her plastered leg bounced off the ground. She had only fallen once so far, and she had had her mom to help her up. She would have to get up, and she needed to call Rebecca. How had she not felt anything like that?? And why hadn’t Granny done anything about it. That’s what didn’t make any sense.
It took Blanche 5 minutes to get back up by herself, and when she finally was situated with her crutches, she groaned, miserably. “Granny!” she called. “You here??!!” Blanche swore. ‘Course she wasn’t. Blanche felt her eyes roll as she stared to hobble to find her cell phone. Back through the kitchen—her eyes were caught on the door that led to the garage. Shimmering lights glittered in the doorway—
Blanche’s heart sank. Goddamn it, what now? This has to be part of that door way crisis she had been experiencing the last few weeks. Blanche stormed as fast as she could (this was not very fast at all, unfortunately) to the doorway. Maybe it would be to that creepy fortune tell her again. “I swear to God this isn’t my faul—what the holy hell is that?!”
A rainbow abyss was where the doorway to the side out the house was supposed to be. Shimmery lights shone through the area and Blanche’s jaw was on the ground. The irrational part of her brain told her to be grateful that her dad parked like a dickhead again and that it was scooched right up against the garage door.
She also noticed the scratch marks on the paint job. Claw marks? She quirked an eyebrow. Not from the cat—Wilco was probably sunbathing in her guest room, this time of day. Her dad was going to flip if he got to come home.
There was a weird watery sound behind her, and Blanche’s eyes were ripped from the portal, turning to look at the floor. Her eyes found a slimy translucent substance dripping onto the hardwood floors. Blanche pressed her lips together in a firm line. This was going to be bad, wasn’t it? She took a single breathe, and she realized she was trembling on her crutches.
Damn it. Slowly, she lifted her head. Clinging to the ceiling like demented spider man was a scaly monster with beady yellow eyes that were looking straight at her. There was some flowery gas oozing from the pores on it’s neck. It became apparent that it was probably drooling all over her hardwood floors because it wanted to eat her. There was a monster reptile bullshit monster thing clinging to her ceiling looking at her like she was a pizza.
“Are you fucking kidding m-“
It launched itself at her, and for the second time that day, Blanche lurched backward, doing a backwards summersalt into the garage, the monsters claws painfully nicking her shoulder. Blanche cried out, not sure if her leg or her shoulder was causing her more pain. She heard the monster shriek loudly as it slid into her dad’s car and Blanche felt shivers go up her spine.
“Get the fuck away from me!” Blanche swore, scrambling to get to her feet. The lizard (it couldn’t have been a lizard, could it? Did lizards look like that???) hissed loudly, swirling to look back at her. Blanche was leaning heavily onto one of her crutches, using the other to point it at the lizard. Because fighting the lizard with a crutch was going to work. Or something.
“Alright, you scaly fuckhead—” Blanche cursed, eyes trained on it. It seemed to perceive her as a threat now, and Blanche was vaguely aware her shoulder was bleeding. She glanced to the portal thing, watching a bat like creature come shooting out of it, and slamming into the garage door. It didn’t move again. “Alright. Alright, we’ll play this your way—” Blanche started inching her way, carefully, to the right. The creature was hissing and screaming loudly at her, it’s tail banging against the car. “Don’t try to intimidate me you scaly, drooling, yellow eyed, Mercedes ruining, snaggle toothed son of a bitch!”
The look on its face told her it was offended, but she was pretty sure it couldn’t understand human language. Blanche took a few more hops to the right. She was almost in front of the portal now. The lizard was glowering at her, ready to pounce again. Fuck her leg hurt. Her shoulder was killing her too. And she was still sore from her encounter with the Girl in the Gap. None of those bruises were done healing either.
Could Ashkent Creek chill before deciding to try to kill her within a week of when she almost died the last time?
More bat things came soaring out of the portal over her head, slamming into the garage door with disgusting cracks that Blanche could probably live without hearing again. But now, here they were, in this stupid standoff, Blanche shoving her crutch in its face like it was a gun.
Blanche wasn’t sure what she was thinking. Maybe if she could just….
The damn thing pounced at her when she wasn’t ready. And Blanche let out a scream that mingled with the creature’s as she ducked, slamming to the ground as it flew over her, screeching at it was sucked right back into the portal.
“Owww—” Blanche moaned—and then, suddenly, her eyes went wide as she was moving. Why was she moving?! What the—she was being sucked towards the rainbow thing too?! Shit. “Help!” Blanche hollered, trying to find something, anything to grab onto. Not again- why did it have to be again?! “Help!!”
To Be Continued....
#Solo#touchofsolo#Solo blanche#Solo Blanche 6#guys i had this open and i posted it with the title AssCrack Creek Done Did it Again#and i din't want to be the title but I couldn't think of anything else so i panicked and put something ese there#now it's just FML#lmao
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'So selfish': Car arson trend blamed for Canberra bushfire
Updated November 05, 2018 15:35:59
Photo: The fire started on Thursday afternoon and was exacerbated by poor conditions on Friday. (ABC News: Tom Lowrey) Canberra rangers say one of a growing number of car fires sparked the blaze that led to a watch and act alert on the outskirts of Canberra, as the community vents its anger over the close call. Key points:Area had become a popular spot for car arsonFire under control west of CanberraCanberrans vent frustrations over deliberate fire Over the past several years the area around Pierces Creek, where the fire took hold, has become a popular spot for cars being dumped and set alight, ACT Parks and Conservation manager Brett McNamara said. "To hear the call on Thursday afternoon that it was another stolen vehicle that had been taken out to the forest and then deliberately set alight, was certainly a huge concern for us," he said. "It beggars belief that you would actually take a vehicle out into the forest and then set it alight. "The risk that it places the Canberra community at, particularly coming into the season that we're about to face, is a very real risk." Mr McNamara said many of the people starting the fires likely did not know the danger they were putting the community in.
Photo: Pierces Creek has become a hot spot for car fires. (ABC News: Tom Lowrey) "It's very much a tinderbox out there," he said. "As to what goes through peoples' minds when they do that, well I've got no idea." Mr McNamara encouraged the public to report any suspicious activity in ACT national parks to prevent future disasters. "That observation that you might make may be the difference between a successful prosecution and another fire," he said. Just hours before the fire started, ACT police tried to apprehend a stolen Toyota Hilux Workmate they believe was used to spark the blaze, but the driver did not stop. On Monday, they said investigators were working with forensic officers and the Rural Fire Service to confirm these details. 'I'm hoping they feel dreadful' As it became clear a car fire was the cause of the blaze, many Canberrans took to social media to vent their outrage. "So selfish of them. All for a bit of a thrill? They should be out there with the firies risking their lives trying to fix it," one user said. "Personally, I am hoping that they feel absolutely dreadful for what they've caused. I hope they regret every minute of it," another said. A third simply labelled the fire starters "irresponsible dickheads". On Monday morning the Emergency Services Agency said the 204-hectare fire had been contained west of Canberra, and no danger was posed to properties. Forecast rain over the coming week was expected to help efforts to extinguish the blaze. Topics:fires,disasters-and-accidents,national-parks,conservation,environment,canberra-2600,act,australia First posted November 05, 2018 13:35:48 http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-11-05/canberra-fire-burnt-car-parks-rangers/10465530
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