#i love john price and will die on my stance that he is an ASS MAN!

[ghostlywhiskey]

Reading price fics while listening to a slowed version of Smack That is definitely one of my favorite experiences EVER.

Idk. He’s 100% an ass man. Like he loves every part of you equally, but goddamn that man will never hesitate to slap/pinch your ass whenever he feels like it. He definitely bends you over his lap, slapping your ass and kneading it with rough hands.

When he gets home from deployment and you run up to hug him, his hands grab your ass, squeezing and gripping like there's no tomorrow.

Imagine him out with you doing something mundane, like shopping. He always lets you walk in front of him so he can enjoy the view from behind. When walking back to car he will always. ALWAYS. Give your cute little butt a love tap, smacking it and then giving you one of those sly winks.

-🤎

This man lives rent-free in my thoughts. He’s just up in my head, sipping on some tea and shaking his head with an amused chuckle as he watches every thought zoom by. <3

Hope you're doing well!! Make sure to take care of yourself (it's what Price would want ;)!! Love ya 🫶

im giggling like a FOOL right now oh my god

something about the ass grabbing one - i feel inspired again?? omg. john price is totally an ass man, idec. as a member of the ass and no titties club i’ll die on this hill to help me sleep at night.

i love him bad & hes not even REAL.

[captjprice]

Hi Angel🖤

can i gst a nsfw piece with Dbf!Price or Ex-Husband!Price x chubby f!reader;

How he doesn't let the lack of titles stop him from considering the reader 𝙝𝙞𝙨 and is enthusiastic to spread the agenda around in any way possible.

Including always giving the idea him and reader are together, chasing away anyone with possible interest in reader and most importantly constantly getting in her personal space to cause so much confusion because despite everything she 'protests' ,she actually is 𝙝𝙞𝙨 and Price getting too close or saying something just for her to hear makes her malfunction for a second.

When he gets his opportunity to slip up her skirt, his breeding kink with intention to procreate comes out to play except hers matches his and now they're both fighting for their lives in every position possible to make sure they both get what they want like.

thank you, adieu 💋

ExHusband!John Price x Chubby!F!reader

You'll always be his, despite everything.

a/n: no because these requests ONG yall are eating this up 😭😭😭 ive also been so busy with school so if you put in a request i will def get to it this week/next week!!!

mentions: light dubcon, smut obv, fingering, exhibitionism, domprice, subreader

• He's soo clingy, even after the divorce— He just can't seem to keep his hands off of you whenever he sees you. Always a hand on your plush waist, or a finger hooked in your belt-loop. You two might not have a title anymore, but you're still his.

• John still persuades you to let him help you, with groceries for example. But it's all just an excuse for him to make sure nobody's coming to steal you away.

• He's just as sweet as he was before the divorce, like all of the fights never happened. Giving you those sweet smiles and caresses.

• But it only gets worse when he joins you at the neighbourhood bbq, lingering behind you the whole time with his hand on your shoulder, showing others that you were off-limits. Whenever someone strikes up a conversation, he'll shut it down by dragging you along to the kitchen, complaining he's thirsty. You're such a cute little thing after all, he needs to keep you away from the rest.

• You know what he's doing, and even though it stirs something in your belly you know it's not right.

• But you find it hard to protest as he pushes you up against the counter, reaching behind you to grab a cup. He's smiling down at you, acting like nothing's wrong.

"You need to stop, John. It's not.." You trail off, knowing he gets what you're saying. He seems unfazed, looking you up and down, admiring your outfit. "Lovely dress, sweetheart. Is it new?" John asks lowly, then takes a sip of his drink. You give a glare, and cross your arms. "You're still so pretty, y'know?" He continues, reaching out to caress your hips. Fuck, he loved your figure. Some might argue you're too big, but it's just right for him. Tits and ass to die for, but most importantly your thighs. You shift in your stance, but don't push him away. He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. "I'd give anything to fuck that pretty little cunt one more time."

• His words make you take in a breath and your cheeks burn, causing you to excuse yourself to the bathroom and hurry off. What the fuck was he playing at?!

• As you lock the bathroom door, you really can't deny the ache between your legs— It's so wrong, because you're divorced, for gods sake. You press your thighs together to attempt to relieve the tension.

• When you're positive your blush has disappeared you step out, finding John in conversation with a couple. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he gestures you over.

"There's my girl," He cooes softly.

• His words make you nudge his side, and his hand wraps around your waist again to pull you snug to his side.

• You listen as he talks, and to the way he makes no effort to disclose the fact that you're divorced— No, quite the opposite. He boasts about you, calls you his girl.

• It makes you even angrier, causing you to mutter something when the couple leaves back to the backyard.

"Not your girl, John."

• Your words tick him off, causing him to flip you around with your back to him against the counter. He presses closer to you, making an effort to press his bulge against your ass.

"What, sweetheart?" He grumbles, both his hands holding onto your hips to keep you in place. You sputter out another reply, although flustered. "I-.. We're not together anymore, John.. This.." He gives another glance to the door and then back at you, his hand moving lower to cup your ass. You stifle a noise. "What are you doing, this-.. Anyone could walk in!" He snickers at your concern, pushing your dress up. "Better be quiet then." John grunts, squeezing your plush ass. "Fuck, i've missed this."

• He doesn't seem to care if anyone comes in as he pushes your panties aside and plunges two fingers inside of you, causing you to mewl and grip onto the counter. You keep telling him to stop, but it just turns into incoherent babbles. Your pussy makes obscene noises as he moves back in and out, dripping onto your legs and panties.

• He can't even keep going until you're cumming, the mess you're making on his fingers has already got him so fucking hard. He fucking needs you, now.

• He isn't as gentle as he was before as he drags you to the upstairs bedroom— Probably belonging to the poor barbeque organiser. John shoves you onto the bed, undoing his belt.

"Fuuuck, yeah. Finally gonna breed you again, yeah? You want that?" He asks, and you know there's no point in denying him anymore. You nod lazily, laying on your back and spreading your legs.

Your pretty pussy glistens for him, and he lets out a long moan as he finally pulls himself out of his pants, pumping his cock a few times. John crawls onto the bed, his hand coming up to rub your clit a few times. "You want me to make you a mommy this time, love?" He positions his head at your entrance. "Gonna really make you mine, this time. Gonna get you nice and pregnant, that's how good i'll fuck you." You whine out again as he slowly pushes into you, a milky white ring already forming on his dick.

• He pushes your knees to your chest to fuck as deep into you as he can, and the noises you make are so loud he has to shut you up, his hand covering your mouth.

• John's sloppy and quick, more focused on pumping you full instead of taking it slow and intimate. He's groaning— Almost growling at the thought of getting you full of him, showing everyone he owns you.

• When John cums inside, he keeps himself in for a few more minutes, brushing your hair aside and whispering how good you were from him.

"Lovie, you did so well f'me, yeah?" He muses, caressing your cheeks. "You're always so good for me." John pants, looking down at where his cock is nestled inside of you. Despite keeping himself in, you've still managed to drip onto the bed and make a mess of his thighs.

• When he pulls out it leaves you feeling oh so empty, but he soothes you with a quick peck to the lips. His fingers push whatever's left of his seed back into you with a shameful squelch.

• The shame is evident in your expression as you get dressed again, especially after fucking on someone else's bed.

• But John seems to relish in it as he zips up his jeans and helps you stand.

"Think you should rethink that divorce yet, sweetheart?" He says teasingly, squeezing your waist as he takes you back downstairs.

• The excuse he makes for you is so stupid, but somehow the neighbours believe it, and John drives you back home with a tight grip on your thigh.

• You're not done with him for the day.

[izgnanik-a]

CoD ABC’s

NSFW 18+ x Reader Edition - Minors DNI! 

Masterlist here

G - Gags/Gagging (John Price x Reader)

Tags: Reader’s gender is not stated, oral (m receiving), degradation (names used: cumslut, whore), cum-swallowing, free-use kink

Not beta-read, we die like men 🤷🏽

Prompt: Price usually has his bad days, and it results in pretty rough, amazing sex in order to relieve his stress. Knowing you offer a ‘free-use’ ticket, as well as him doing the same for you, he’s in dire need to let off some steam. The only problem is - you’re both still on base, and he needs to blow off steam now. 

“Open.” Price demanded, already pulling his belt from his waist, his zipper falling in line next. His hard cock pushing up against the fabric of his uniform pants.

You sat before him on your knees, hands in your lap, mouth open and awaiting your next instructions.

Price had been having a rough time from the very moment he arrived on base. From failed missions, to stubborn injuries from new privates, he had a brittle anger under his skin. And the only way he would get through the day was “free-use” you.

The only problem was - the base was full of soldiers, and anyone could walk by Price’s office at any minute or knock on his door.

Price got his cock out, pumping into his fist, and gripped the top of your head by your hair before bringing you forward. “Take a deep breath.”

And like you were going underwater, you were plunged over Price’s warm cock. The girth just splitting your jaw in delicious ways, the weight of it strangling your tongue. You moaned around it as he widened his stance, gazing down at you.

“Look at me.” He growled.

You peered up, his cock in your mouth, his hand in your hair. He gave a firm tug, saddling your lips further down his cock. You whimpered in pain.

“That’s right. Take it.” He groaned, never once peeling his eyes away. “Be a good cumslut for me, and take it.”

He thrust into your mouth, his plump cockhead pushing up against your uvula and you gagged around him. Your eyes grew wet with every sharp thrust.

Price growled and moaned at the slickness of your drooling mouth; he dropped a hand to your cheek, feeling it fill up with his cock. His other hand, tight in your hair, moved to the back of your head.

With every shove of his hips, you braced against his thighs; holding the back of his thighs, scraping your nails on his ass cheeks like you know he liked. Sobbing and gagging, you shut your eyes in pure bliss.

You loved when he used you, when his anger was boiling over and he could just take his anger out on you in a brutal fuck.

Price’s balls drew tight. He pulled his cock from your mouth, wrapping his hand around the spit slicked length and pumped until his tip was spurting cum across your lips. “Eat it, like my good whore. Don’t let it go to waste.” He pushed his tip back in, holding the bottom of your jaw, and held his cock until it stopped twitching. “That’s it.”

You suckled on his cockhead until it was clean, licking it up like dripping ice cream. You gazed up at Price, with tear-stained cheeks, and glistening cum painted lips. Your breath had run ragged, but you whispered a broken, “Do you feel better?”

And his cock twitched in renewed interest. “Fuck.” Price lurched down, pulling you up by your waist, and plastered your stomach against the desk. “Spread your legs for me.” His hand molded into its home on the back of your neck. “Pants off.” He leaned his chest against your back, “I’m going to fuck you so hard that the soldiers will think twice before ticking me off again.”

Price’s hands ripped your pants down to your knees and they dropped to your ankles. He put his mouth to your ear again.

“Do I make myself clear?” He bellowed.

You braced your palms against the desktop, baring your hips for him, “Yes sir.”

4/8/23

[witchofsparkles]

Ghost was not having a very good day. It wasn’t the job in particular because it was expected of him to be used to it by now after 15 years of service; it was because the man right next to him grinning ear to ear as if he didn't just come out of a bloody combat with explosives, terrorists and flying limbs. The limbs were not belong to them, god bless, but especially the explosives were their doing.

Not theirs as a team, but the man who has a nasty smile's.

The explosives belonged to the reason of his headache for months, Soap.

Ghost tried not to fall for Soap's banter, but his mouth didn't know better. Even though he couldn’t even hear what the man was saying, Ghost replied sarcastically. "Yeah, Johnny. Sure, whatever you say."

What other answer there that could be said to everything? Yeah, sure. Whatever. Just please stop talking.

"You do think I'm pretty? Oh, that’s flattering. Thank you, sir. Please write that in the report so Price can see my charm too. It would work better coming from you, the big man with the mask." Ghost almost tripped down from the heli and crashed onto the mountains thousands fits down and at that moment he didn't think he would mind a good head trauma with a highly possible death.

He though to put a stop to it, to ruin the mood, but decided against. Ghost couldn’t avert his gaze fast enough, and his eyes locked with Soap for a split second. The carefree smile Soap sent to Ghost made his stomach flutter.

And Ghost would drink bleach if he knew it would kill the butterflies in his stomach.

Yeah, there was another reason for his headache and bad times in general.

Ghost was down bad in love with his Sergeant, John MacTavish.

Ghost watched Soap walking into the base with the other soldiers, laughing loudly and looking all hot in bloody gear. Ghost just stood next to the heli silently, tried to appear like he was busy with something, and checked Soap's back out. Ghost knew he wasn’t injured or anything, but who could be sure? In the heat of the war, blood full of adrenalin, everybody could make mistakes.

The reason of his gaze was purely professional and had nothing to do with how Soap's ass was moving with his every step. Totally.

"You might wanna take your chances, you know that right?" Ghost almost jumped out of his skin and his hand went to his knife reflexively.

"You know better to not sneak up on me, Price." Ghost relaxed his stance and put the knife back. Price was smiling at him.

"And I know that I can give you a very hard time if we had to fight. Anyway. You pray that there's a mask on your face. With how obvious you're about staring at Johnny, even my dead mom can come up and laugh at you."

Ghost inhaled sharply. "You call him Johnny again, we will see about that fight."

A laugh escaped Price. "God. Calm down, son. No one's taking him. Fine, I won't call him that. Jesus."

Ghost rolled his eyes. He wasn’t feeling like talking and yet he couldn’t shut up today. Also, he didn't want to think about Price's implication. "Why are you here? I was coming to report."

Price stroked his mustache, and that made Ghost's stomach drop with worry. "Why is your hand on your mustache? Who died?"

Price threw him a dirty look. "Why do everyone think like that when they see me? No one died. Not yet. And hopefully never. I changed my mind. You go rest, we will talk later when all of you available."

"You said no one died, yet. Why don't we talk now?" Ghost's knuckles were white from holding his west so hard. Something bad happened, he knew it.

Price stared at him again, a little longer than a second. "It's nothing out of ordinary. Just our everyday madness. You look like shit, and Soap looked like shit. If the only sane one is Gaz among you, I fear everyone will die. So, go rest. I will call you when you can open both of your eyes at will."

Ghost couldn’t sleep. It was expected, after how Price teased him with an apocalypse. In his mind, at least. If he didn't think the worst could happen, he wouldn’t be Ghost. He was so tense that Ghost thought his skin was gonna tear apart. His headache from the explosions was worse, and every single one of his muscles were hurting.

All stopped when he saw Johnny sitting at where Ghost was usually sitting. It was his secret place, a tiny corner with no noise and just darkness. The place he would come when the sleep didn't.

"Why are you here?" Ghost would love it if he didn't sound like a goddamn incubus.

Soap jumped, expectedly. Turned to him sharply, then took a deep breath when he saw who was it. "You almost had to file a suspicious dead report on me. Stop creating work for yourself."

Ghost snickered, that’s how his Johnny was. He was acting like a class clown, but Ghost wasn’t believing in that. All that laughing and joking, it was almost impossible in this job. When all you could see was the dead, your voice was turning into a whisper.

It was sadness that consumes you.

"It would take a lot more to kill you, Johnny." Ghost's voice was always deep, but for some reason it deepened. Like he was sharing a secret. Almost a whisper.

Johnny's eyes shimmered under the dim lights. They looked like stars for a moment, then Ghost corrected himself. Not stars, explosions. Fireworks.

"Is everything okay? Why don't you sleep? Were you thinking about something?" Johnny was looking up to him from where he was sitting, and Ghost was looking down. He wanted to take Johnny's face between his hands and brush the stubble at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to crash into his lips, taste him with his tongue, just sweep it across Johnny's lips and inside his mouth, feel the hot wetness of his saliva around his own tongue, to get Johnny's tongue in his mouth and crowd him in, to be able to get a fistful of Johnny's stupid mohawk while kissing with a lust that would shame Jesus himself that he would have to look away, he wanted to touch Johnny's every bit on his back and kiss him from his neck to down his happy trail, he wanted to be able to touch at the tip of him with just only a finger and make him moan for more-

"I was thinking about you."

Rest is on ao3:

[williamsockner]

I saw your comments about country music on the Chicks thread and I’m curious about your opinion. I grew up on country music and feel like “9/11 killed country” is pretty valid. But I’d love to hear your take because I miss it [country music].

Hi! So, my major issue with the “9/11 killed country music” post, as someone who listens to a ton of musical genres but has both a history of and soft spot for country, is that it’s a reductive, cherrypicking way to define an entire massive genre based on a handful of individual songs and high-profile artists that had their heyday at this point nearly two decades ago (Toby Keith, Big & Rich, etc.). It’s a very slanted read on pop radio country, and it’s not even remotely accurate to quantifying the broader genre.

It’s just bizarre that people allow their idea of the whole genre to be molded by a spate of reactionary right-wing songs that found traction immediately after 9/11 and then largely lost dominance in the genre. Most country songs on the radio are not about jingoism - they’re still about a lover done you wrong, or drinking after a hard day’s work, or finding happiness without much money, or teenagers in love, or about the tragedies of alcoholism and domestic abuse, or appreciating your small town, as so much of this genre has always been. If you look at the top 10 right now, there isn’t a patriot song in the whole thing (although two of the songs have overtly Christian references, but that’s always been part of country music too). The militaristic patriotism songs tend to just be one or two songs a year that end up in heavy rotation around the fourth of July and in September, but they get outsized attention comparatively because they’re so offensively grating.

And even after 9/11, for the last two decades most country songs on the radio still haven’t been “nationalist pop with twang”. Yes, in the 2000’s we had “Courtesy of the Red White and Blue” and “Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning” and “American Soldier”, but this was also LGBT+ supporter Shania Twain’s* and avowed Democrat Tim McGraw’s imperial phases, the era of “Before He Cheats” and “Concrete Angel” and “Red Ragtop”, the years that made a Blake Shelton song about breaking out of prison his calling card and gave Miranda Lambert a massive hit with a song about burning her abuser’s house down.

This isn’t to say that country is progressive. Country music has a major problem with being dominated by straight white men, and even straight white women spent several of the last years underrepresented** (to say nothing of LGBT+ artists and artists of color). But that issue predates 9/11, as does the whitewashing of country’s history; the aforementioned Ken Burns documentary does go into how white country musicians forced black musicians out of the scene and erased their accomplishments going back decades before 2001. “Proud to Be an American” and “God Bless the USA”, for the record, were recorded in 1980’s.

Country, as a genre, does lean more conservative than many other genres, but it still holds a wide array of political viewpoints, even on the pop charts. I’m not just talking about indie alt-country darlings, although I’ll get to those in a minute - even pop country megastars are a varied bunch. Eric Church, who currently has a hit on the top 10, just dropped a scathing track called “Stick That in Your Country Song” that cusses out underfunding schools and mass incarceration; Luke Bryan got a #1 hit in 2017 with a chorus that included “I believe you love who you love and ain’t nothing you should ever be ashamed of”; Carrie Underwood pinned an entire album and tour cycle around a single about escaping domestic abuse and recently released a song criticizing gun proliferation; Kacey Musgraves won a CMA for her hit single where she criticizes slut-shaming and encourages women to “kiss lots of boys or kiss lots of girls if that’s something you’re into”, then she won a Grammy for an album where she sings about smoking weed and dedicates an empowerment anthem to the LGBT+ community; Miley Cyrus had an explicitly bisexual song on her most recent “back to her roots” country album; Tim McGraw discussed running for governor of Tennessee as a Democrat and threw his support behind Obama way back during Obama’s 2008 campaign. I’ve been relatively unplugged from country radio for the last few years, but this is all stuff relatively off the top of my head.

And that moves us to alt-country. I die a little inside whenever someone says that they “just mean radio country” when they say they “hate country music”, because alt-country is just the tits. It just is. It’s the best. If someone says they listen to rock music, we don’t assume they only mean Nickelback and Shinedown - and yet somehow we’ve shut country out so much that we don’t even consider that there’s an entire world of the genre beyond what charts - and that world is rich and powerful and thoughtful and as valid a form of music as any other genre. Some favorites contemporary alt-country artists of mine (including some songs about immigration, opiate addiction, protesting war, sexism, agricultural exploitation, homophobia, one bashing Trump directly and even one about female cunnilingus): Courtney Marie Andrews, Ruston Kelly, Tyler Childers, Margo Price, Jason Isbell, Colter Wall, Ian Noe, Kathleen Edwards, Lydia Loveless, Lori McKenna, Amanda Shires, Ashley Monroe, Lucinda Williams, Over the Rhine, Samantha Crain, Shooter Jennings, Cam, John Moreland, Chris Stapleton, Lindi Ortega, Lavender Country, Cody Belew, Honey Harper, Lera Lynn, Nina Nastasia, Patty Griffin, Holly Williams.

The problem with the “9/11 killed country” attitude, to me, is that it’s a stance that requires limited knowledge of country that happened after 9/11 and a selective memory for the country that existed before 9/11. Jingoist country songs existed and found massive success before 9/11; more progressive country songs existed and found success after 9/11. Contrary to what people on tumblr seem to believe, the genre of country music was not just outlaw country, “Jolene” and Woodie Guthrie folk songs until Toby Keith came along; it was already highly Christian/gospel-influenced and highly patriarchal. And it was already full of goofy songs about getting drunk and partying and driving tractors, the predecessors to “bro country”.

I think, personally, we lose so much by centering “Courtesy of the Red White and Blue” and Florida Georgia Line as the first things we think of when we think about country music, because those songs and acts aren’t representative of the genre, or even of the pop country charts. We lose a lot because we lose sight of all the fantastic progressive or apolitical music in the genre, and we lose a lot because we ignore the sins of pre-9/11 country and the opportunity to critique its history of whitewashing, heteronormativity and cultural Christianity by likening it to some sort of good ol’ days.

Thank you for letting me ramble!

*I’m aware of Shania’s ignorant-ass Trump comments, but those reflect more recent political developments for her and came with a hasty retraction.

**Although lol the pop, rock and rap charts have all been brutal to women for the last several years.

[inheritorofmemories-archive]

Twitter is not a good place and I have opinions.

Okay so, just visited Twitter to see how they like The Old Guard and please remind to never go there for anything more than artist’s posts and memes.

(This is more of a rant than a cohesive explanation of my thoughts but I won’t lose my time on Twitter for that and I still need to talk about it, so we’re here. Okay, here goes-)

Of course spoiler warning for the whole movie.

"it's bad, it's not creative, it's boring, there's no story apart from bad guys pharma and good guys mercenaries."

Did we watch the same movie?? It's like those Mad Max Fury Road reviews who kept saying "they leave and come back, no plot har har I’m very funny" when the whole point of the movie is about staying where you live and make this place better, not abandoning it because you risk abandoning your true self with the land (amongst other things the movies tries to say).

Yeah maybe the story is a bit seen, pharma and all. But the whole plot revolve around the Old Guards and their emotions. It's about a tired warrior finding hope, and a young immortal finding her place, and how to deal with loss and grief and solitude, it's about finding purpose in helping other because that's what human do, help each other. It's a lot more than fight scenes and bad pharma (which, maybe it's an old trope but it's still very true to this day, please keep portraying pharma CEO as comically bad because they are!)

It's like men can't understand a story unless there's lots of death and unnecessary trauma. Can't you enjoy a story about found family and hope and kindness for one another like everyone else?

Here are the critics I saw, and why I think it’s bullshit, point by point because I’m petty like that:

The characters are flat and two dimensional: I mean, no? Sure, Joe and Nicky are not the center of attention, and we see Booker tired and a traitor, and the human ones are bit glossed over (though we see enough to understand them, Copley and his wife, the scientist that thinks she’s helping humanity, etc.), but Andy and Nile are fully developed? What else do you need?

Andy is a very old, very tired immortal that has a very complicated past (that we see a lot of) and her motivations, state of mind and thoughts are well explained (they all say she’s old, and tired, we know about Quynh; hell, Andy’s first line is about that) and we know she lost purpose, and she finds it within the film! She changes! Her character evolves in interactions to other but mostly Nile. Speaking of her- i know I’m repeating myself but what else do you need to consider a character not flat? She loves her family but doesn’t run to them because she’s not an idiot. She’s a fighter, a marine, a very competent one at that, but she still gets scared by being an immortal, she asks questions, she’s compassionate, she feels! All while being a bad ass fighter. She has agency, makes her own choices and choose her way, she has motivation and she know what she brings to the team and is not afraid of saying her thoughts and needs.

And even Booker and Nicky and Joe have full character, even if shown less. We have Booker’s back story, and we know he cares a lot despite all his hurt (he says he did it to help Andy die, which was still wrong and selfish, but he was genuinely trying to do something because he hurt so much). Nicky and Joe have a softer side, and sure it’s mostly conveyed through their own love story but they hug the other Guards and Nicky brings food for Andy and Joe jokes around (still thinking about that “faster than the elevator” line). Yeah it’s not a deep character study but it’s more than about half action movies today, and it’s enough in the story to make me care about all of them, even Copley. Although a lot of that may come form the actors too.

The fights scenes are bad: apparently they’re boring and do not do justice to the comics. I can’t speak for the last one, but boring? Again, did we watch the same movie? Yeah, there’s no big explosions and fire everywhere and collapsing buildings, but they’re not boring. I’m sorry my tastes are superior but I’d rather be shown the talents of a covert team of immortal warriors though discretion and efficiency. Why would they need explosions when they can juggle swords, axes, rifles and guns so smoothly you don’t even see a shift in their stance? See first fight in South Sudan. Why would I need collapsing buildings when I can have a team of fighters swapping weapons together like nothing? That scene at Merricks’s building where they all reload and change guns and the camera turns around and panel over all of them? That was dope and a very creative way to show how smooth they work together (with Nile added! So way to go to show the new group dynamics.) through a smooth and continuous camera movement. I could go on, but where did you see the boring fight scene. Yes there’s no cool lights and tricks a la John Wick, but if it did they would have complained it was a rip off, so...

The cinematography is bad: Just because it’s more understated doesn’t mean it’s bad. Yes, there’s no neon lights or cool shots like other might have (looking at you John Wick, since everyone seems to compare the two movie) but it serves the story. It’s because it’s so simple visually that you can get into the feelings and story. You don’t look at the light, you look at the actions and the faces. And honestly, I think it suits the Guards better. They look timeless, they fit in everywhere. A photography that’s striped down to the necessary only serves the story. I don’t see them in safe houses with a bunch of lights and modern furniture, just like I don’t see expensive shots and over the top choreography for them. As I said, they’re a covert team, they’re smooth and efficient, I like that the photography align on that and show them in simple shots.

tl;dr: Just because it’s simple doesn't mean it’s bad, sometimes that's what you need to work with the story and its characters and themes.

Not enough story and too much nothing to fill in: I mean, they die 12 minutes in, you get all the stakes, antagonist and themes in like 20 minutes, what else do you need? There’s break in the actions to expose plot and concept, but it never feels wrong or too much of a info dump, it’s fluid and natural because we’re following Nile into the immortal world.

Bad Pharma is Bad: Yeah, let’s talk about that. (Cautions, purely opinions, no real arguments to change someone’s mind here) I don’t care if it’s cliché, not when pharma in the US keep rising the price of Insulin every month, not when pharma all over the world send their faulty medicine to third world country because there’s no one that cares enough there, not when you know they purposefully don’t finance HIV researches because triple therapy gets them a lot of money, not when you hear about the experimentation and how they get their resources and literally everything that I’m not getting into right now. Who cares if they’re show as bad people once again, they are! You think CEO care about anything but money? If it feels wrong in the movie it’s because it is wrong.

Tell me no one in our world would kidnap and torture immortals to find their power. And don’t talk to me about bad representation of CEO and exceptions, I don’t care. One exception doesn’t make all the other suddenly better or worth the wrong they’re doing. So yeah, give me more cliché good guys fight bad CEO, I love it.

They did not use their concept enough: Again, where? To me, they did all they could with that concept, you get all the things you can only get with the concept, interesting and fun one. They are still afraid of dying one day, and even if they’re not (i.e. Andy or Booker) their brand of immortality doesn’t mean they’re not afraid of being captured: the Quynh scene happens literally just before Nicky and Joe are kidnapped exposing us the stake of being immortal, talk about good script work, right? Talking about fun trope: you have the millennium old couple that use to kill each other but now love each other, the classic ennemies to lovers we all love, you have the strategy of using your immortality to your advantage and destabilize your opponent: Nile walking into Merrick’s building and getting herself killed on purpose only to stand again and use the guard’s shock and lack of preparation against them, you have the fun references to real historical figures that comes with immortality: Rodin, Napoleon, etc...

I’ll link to this video I found that talks about this better than me, but basically, they did use their concept, a lot, and well.

The music: I can’t really say anything about that one. Maybe you don’t like the style they used, and that’s fair. To each their own. But it wasn’t too much like other Netflix’s movie (Looking at you 6 Underground. Four (4) song of the same artist in one movie?) but again, it’s Netflix, they use modern songs in their soudtracks, you should expect it. I didn’t bother with the lyrics accuracy to the actions, but each time the music fit well in tune and mood of the scene. And the actual score made for the movie was really good, not too much but still supported the actions and dialogues on screen like it should.

And my favorite yet, we’ve already seen it. I don’t have any smart answer to that apart from I’m sorry you’re a cishet, but found family is the superior trope and I hope you can one day see it too. Who cares if we’ve already seen it, it’s a different flavor! It’s no X-Men flavor, it’s Old Guard flavor and I love it. Have you heard of the Hero’s Journey? How Lord of the Ring, Star Wars and Harry Potter all have the basic same plot? And yet you can like all three of them for different reasons? Because they’re not the same flavors? Well, apply that to the immortal group of fighters and enjoy it.

Okay, that’s most of my thoughts on the film for now, but to make it short: it’s good and those people can’t appreciate good things that are more feelings and humanity than fist fights and nihilism. How dare a movie say we’re good and need each other and not end in a pathetic discovery that all the word deserves to burn.

[quackeroos]

Superiority Complex || T.HOLLAND [1]

PAIRING: Mob!Tom Holland x reader

Warning: contains violence, cursing, (setting is in a night club sooo....) mentions of sex.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Summary: You have been assigned to kill the most powerful mob in all of London. But once it backfires, you learn that there’s more to Tom than just a cold, ruthless, stoned faced mafia. And you uncover the secret of your identity.

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MASTERLIST

Next Part

It was a cold Friday night. music boomed inside the bar and busy waiters and waitresses served cocktails and beers to customers insisting on getting drunk even more. Business was booming every friday night at the Halo night club, and it was hard for y/n to spot a familiar face amongst the crowd. "Have you spotted him yet?" The voice from her earpiece said, a gruff man spoke from the other side of the line. "Negative. He hasn't arrived yet." she spoke lowly, avoiding suspicion from other workers, mostly the men guarding at the door.

She pulled down her skirt which was hugging her hips and thighs a little too tight, it was almost like wearing a corset. Y/n had no problems in wearing tight jumpsuits, because it was part of her uniform. But the club’s uniform was all too much. Her black leather shorts ended at her mid thigh, white polo secured with only two buttons, the ends of it tied in a knot just below her breasts. And to top it off, a black neck tie. As she walked towards a table, the men he'd her like a prey, ravishing her body with menacing eyes. "When is this fucker going to come? This disguise is a pain in the ass. Literally." Just as she was about to clean a table, the doors of the club opened, revealing two three men in suits. Y/n smirked at the sight of them, presiding on her earpiece, "They've arrived."

Tom and Harrison stood at the door, eyeing the crowd where his next client would be. He motioned for John, one of his men, to guard by the bar. The two walked towards a table, one where a man who was in his late twenties sat, a glass of whisky in his hand. He invited the two to sit at his table, a grin on his face. "It's good to make your acquaintance, Mr. Holland. I'm Edward Jaccoby, we talked over the phone?" Edward Jacobby was a fit man, a little tall and wore the suit well. Although in Tom's opinion, the guy didn't look like the type of person that would build a drug market. "Oh geez. Where are my manners?" Edward called a nearby waitress to their table.

Tom took notice of her as she walks towards them. Her long h/c was tied in a ponytail, a few baby hairs sticking out. Her eyes were a beautiful shade of e/c, and lips plump and pink. She walks very timidly and looked very nervous, unlike the other waitresses, she always pulled down her leather skirt that hugged her figure beautifully. "Ready t-to order sir?" She asked, holding up a notepad and a pen. "I'll have another glass of whisky. What about you two?" the girl's attention moved towards Tom. Her nervous stance made her. Weak. "I'll have a vodka." He mumbled.

 Harrison looked at the cocktail menu before shrugging and handing it back towards Y/n. "I'll just have a beer. Thanks, love." He winked at her before she was off, looking down at the floor to avoid any eye contact. Tom's gaze followed her before she was out of sight.

"Looks like you've found yourself a nice match. Looks like a good fuck ain't she?"

"If I remember correctly, Mr. Jacobby, we are here to talk about important matters. Not my sex life." He snapped. Edward laughed neevously, gulping down his glass of whisky. "As I have said over the phone,We will be exporting our drugs. I trust that willbe taken care of by your men. And I beleive this is the price we've talked about?" He handed the ripped check towards Tom, receiving it with a stern face. The check was written slopily, it somehow irked Tom.

"This is only a quarter of it. I specifically told you to atleast bring half of it."

"H-have you now? I could've s-sworn I heard–"

"Are you implying that I lied to you?" Tom cuts off. His glare hardens even more. Edwards coughs to clear out his throat, getting more nervous every second. The tension between the two was terrifying, well, mostly on Tom's side. "Mr. Holland, I hope we can make an arrange–"

"Oh we can, of course, Mr.Jacobby. But let me tell you. I don't like other people bossing me around. So in this case, I will set the rules, and you WILL abide by it." He spat with venom in his mouth. He lets out a sigh before calming down, but his stoic face still remained. "Now, here's what your going to do. You pay me half, or you die. And if I recall, your family owes us money.”

“300,000 to be exact.” Harrison joins. Just in time, their drinks arrive with the same waitress from before. She sets down the tray on the table, her cleavage showing a little. Tom takes his glass of vodka, trying hard not to look at the waitres and focus on the topic ahead. “Thank you, darling.” Harrison says, taking a shot of his beer. The girl quietly nods and walks back, her eyes making contact with Tom’s before looking away. “So, going back. Since your family owes us, that will also add up to your bill. So all in all, you owe me 700,000.”

“I can pay, Mr.Holland. If you would just give me time-”

“I wait for no one Mr.Jacobby. So it’s either pay, or you die. As the same fate as your mother.” Before Tom could even set his glass down, he felt a cold tip stick to his neck. A hand snakes down his chest, forcefully pinning him down. He kept his composure. He was expecting it, of course. But what caught him in shock was that a girl was holding him back, gun in hand, aiming at his neck. It was even more shocking that the shy waitress was the one holding him hostage. “You better think twice before you mention our mother, Mr.Holland. I wouldn’t want you to die in vain.” she whispered in his ear, which sent chills down his spine. He smirked at this.

“Not so shy now are we?”

“Who said I was? It’s called acting. Trying not to be suspicious, that’s all. I’m surprised you took the bait.” Y/n looked up and saw her brother aiming his gun towards Harrison, covered by his jacket to avoid causing panic in the room. “Mind if we take this outside, gentlemen?” Edward stood from the cushioned seat and took Harrison by the arm. The four walked towards one of the exits, leading to a dark alleyway. Tom tried to find John to see if he was calling for back up, but he was nowhere to be found. “Oh don’t worry about your friend, Mr.Holland. I’ve made sure he’s going to have a wonderful time in the brothel.” Y/n smirked, gun still pressed in his neck. 

Silently, Tom goes for the phone in his pocket, pressing the SOS button without Y/n noticing. She was too busy talking to the man on her earpiece. She was talking in a different language, it was something he couldn’t understand much. “So, Mr.Holland, have you realized why you are in this situation right now?” Edward held Harrison back harshly. The gun he held aimed directly at his head. He noticed that there was a silencer attached to it. 

“I don’t know? Maybe some sort of revenge for my family killing yours?” 

“Actually, there’s more to it than that. You see, revenge is one thing, but we want power.” Y/n whispered the last word into his ear, sending chills once more. “We’re going to do this our way, okay? Wether you like it or not. Because if you don’t, my brother will blow your pretty friend’s face into bits.”

“Darling, you underestimate my friend too much. Are you sure you wanna go there?”

“Don’t call me darling. It’s so sickening to hear that name roll off from your tongue.” She spat, holding the gun to his neck that it almost made him choke. “Now, what we want you to do is transfer all of your properties to our name. Give back our rightful title and leave London into our hands.” For some reason, Tom had laughed. He found it very funny, that a girl, not tall than five foot eight, would threaten him for those kinds of propositions. His family was the leading mob, and they feared them because of that title. Yet, here, a pair of siblings, not older than twenty four, are threatening the most feared mob leader in London.

“You think this is funny?” 

“Incredibly funny. You, my dear have talent. But, I beleive you have a lot more to learn to be in this kind of business.” The sound of cars came from behind them, a light suddenly appearing. Three buff men in suits got down from the car, guns in their hands. “It appears, we have the upper hand now, Miss.” He smirked. Tom had easily slipped from her headlock. Twisting her arm and taking her gun, kicking her legs in the process to kneel. He aimed at her head, her hands up in surrender. 

Harrison had also escaped. He held two guns at Edward’s head, hands also up as a sign of surrender. “I’m impressed. You two have guts. Most specially you, princess. Who would’ve thought I would get hostaged by a girl? Mark that off of your list, Harrison.” The mobster motioned his men to arrest the two. “Kind of sad though, seeing you so vulnerable. That hostage you’ve done to me earlier was kind of a turn on.” Tom lowered down to her level, his lips close to her ear. She could feel his breath tickling her skin, and it went all the way down to her spine. “I wonder how you will be if I brought you to bed.” His voice was so mischievous and so dirty. Y/n felt disgusted and she was not going to have it.

Taking him by shock, she elbowed his stomach, hard, and took the gun from his hands and another from inside her skirt. Edward took this as his chance to take the gun from Harrison. The three buff men, who were also taken by surprise, aimed their guns toward y/n. But before they could even pull the trigger, y/n had shot each and every one of them in the chest. Leaving them bleeding on the wet cemented ground. 

Harrison struggled to get away from Edward’s grasp, both fighting for the gun. Tom groaned on the floor. She hit him hard, and it was enough for him to sit on the floor a few minutes. Y/n had ran off to help her brother. The blonde had disarmed her not too long ago. Leaving her to fight in hand to hand combat. 

Whilst fighting for the gun, Harrison had hit his nape, leaving him unconcious on the ground for who knows how long. Harrison had to admit, the girl was skilled. He wondered if she was self taught or trained. Every blow she sent was powerful, because when she did, her fists would slice through the air. The blonde had caught her fist, instantly locking her dominant hand behind her.

But before he could even knock her unconcious, the girl jumped and landed on his shoulders, chocking him until he was out of breath. He knelt down on the ground, feeling the lack of oxygen ran out of his body. Harrison blinked one or two times, his head was  feeling dizzy. And just when he was about to close his eyes, he felt himself breathing again, and the hands that were once wrapped on his neck was completely gone. 

Tom stood behind Harrison. An arm on his abdomen as he was still wincing in pain. Y/n had laid on the ground limply, she was unconcious at this point. The two looked at each other before looking back at the girl. Her once white polo had become dirty and the knot, undone. Her hair that was once held back by a ponytail was now messy and loose, scattered across her face. “You alright, Haz?” he asked, lending a hand to the blonde. “Fine. Just need to catch my breathe.” 

Harrison and Tom’s eyes lingered on y/n’s body. The two noticed each and every bruise and cut they’ve received from her. Tom stared at her body intently, questions running in his head. Harrison tapped his shoulder when he noticed him staring at her a long while.Tom had been cut from his train of thought. “What should we do about them?” Harrison asked. Tom took a little while to think before he responded, “Leave Mr.Jaccoby behind the trash.”

“And the girl?” Tom had already walked off. He paused midway. “Take her to the manor. Get her files and take them to my office. We’ll be questioning her once she wakes up.”

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