#and at some point it’s like. Ok what do you want us to fucking do. bc if we could talk ourselves into being mildly ok with our assigned

[quimichi]

≡;- ꒰ ° Sick fuck... ꒱

TW: NSFW - MDNI, name calling, slight cnc, yeah thats it???

character: Nam-gyu x F!Reader

summary: You pressed 'x' now you'll face the consequences of your actions

word count: 4.724

a/n: look, for some reason, he was my fav, idk why, idk how, its how it is ok???? I can't take myself seriously lol. I rarely write smut, I'm probably HORRIBLE at it, but we need the content for him ok??

Nam-gyu dragged you into the female bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. You try to free yourself from his grasp, but there's no use. "Hey-! HEY-!! For fucks sake guards-! If you don't do shit, why are you even here-!" you keep yelling as he struggles to shove you into a stall.

He shoved you against the cold wall of the stall, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. Leaning in close, his black eyes flashed with anger and lust as he growled, "Listen up, you little cock-tease. Next time we vote, yeah? You'll press 'O", understood?" His other hand groped and squeezed your breast roughly through your shirt. "Mmm, but maybe this is what you wanted all along, huh? To get me all worked up and desperate for your tight little body?"

He crashed his lips against yours in a brutal, kiss, biting and sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to make it throb. "Strip," he commanded coldly, releasing your wrists only to start tearing your clothes off yourself. "Now! Before I rip them off and fuck you on this filthy floor." With one quick motion, you slap him across his face. "Fuck you-! I don't even fuckinh know you, so what do you want from me?! I pressed 'X', and?! We keep playing the fucking game anyway!" you shout at him. Nam-gyus eyes flashed with rage as you slapped him hard across the face. The sharp sting of your palm against his cheek made him see red. He grabbed your wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you face-first against the grimy bathroom wall. His body pressed firmly against yours, pinning you in place as he leaned down to growl menacingly in your ear.

"Listen here, you fucking slut," he snarled, his hot breath tickling your neck. "I know for a damn fact the longer we play, the more people wanna press fucking 'x'. And I wanna keep going, so after the next round, the next vote, you'll press 'o'. If you don't, I'll make sure I kill you, and not a fucking game." His rough hands immediately found their way to your tits, groping and kneading the soft flesh harshly as he grinded his hardening bulge against your ass.

"I'll fucking ruin you," Nam-gyu hissed venomously, giving your nipple a sharp twist through the thin lace of your bra. "Scream for help and see if anyone gives a shit. They all probably jerk off to ya. Now, are you going to be a good girl and do as you're told, or do I need to get rougher?" "No-!" you stutter out, "you got your point across-!" You're 90% sure you'll die in the games anyway, after seeing the first you knew you wouldn't survive. Better play along now, than suffer even further with whatever he has planned. If you're lucky, he just did all that to scare you off...at least you hoped so. Playing tough wasn't so easy....

Nam-gyus grip on your wrist loosened slightly as he sensed your submission. He kept you pinned against the wall, his hips still pressed firmly to yours as he leaned in close, his voice a low, threatening rumble.

"Damn right I got my point across, baby," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "As a reward, we're keeping you save next game, hm? How's that sound?" He slid a hand down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly as he grinded his now fully erect cock against your backside. "Now, since you've been a bad girl, I think you deserve to be punished. Lucky you! You'll get both, a reward and a punishment. Aren't I nice?"

Nam-guys other hand slid under the hem of your pants, pulling them down. "Cute, did you know this was my favorite color on you, hm?" he teased, hot breath tickling your ear as he rubbed your clit through the fabric of your panties.

"Sick fuck..." you mumble, more to yourself than for him to actually hear it. Nam-gyu smirked cruelly as he heard your mumbled insult, clearly amused by your feeble attempt at defiance. "Yeah, I'm a sick fuck, but I'm YOUR sick fuck," he taunted, punctuating his words by shoving two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt.

"But you aren't a healthy minded bitch either, look at how wet you are." he chuckled darkly. He pumped his fingers in and out of you roughly, curling them to rub your walls with each thrust. You try to swallow down moans and gasps, but you can't. It feels too good and for some reason...you even enjoy it. He quickly turned you around, shoving your back against the wall. His thumb found your clit and rubbed the sensitive nub hard, making your legs tremble and your pussy clench around his digits.

"Listen to this desperate cunt sucking on my fingers like they're my cock," Nam-gyu laughed mockingly. "You can't get enough, can you? Don't worry, I'm going to give this pussy exactly what it needs."

Having fun never hurt anyone, right? After all, you're a sick fuck too...

[witchygagirlwrites]

That's my Girl

Jay Halstead x Reader

You've been with Jay since your daughter was a baby and he loves her like she was his own. When your ex winds up back in Chicago and comes looking to play dad Jay isn't backing down.

“Daddy” you heard Vivian giggle as Jay scooped her up, tickling under her arms. “How was your day, baby girl?” She went into telling him about preschool, stumbling over a few words here and there but he listened like it was the most important thing in the world.

Times like this you swore you fell in love with Jay all over again. You weren't sure how he'd handle the fact of you being a single mom the day he asked you out, especially considering at that time she'd barely hit seven months.

He handled it in stride, making some dates to include her and paying your sister to babysit (even though she'd do it for free) so some dates would be just the two of you.

It took you months to trust him enough to open your heart, your ex Paul Victors cheated on you midway through your pregnancy. You had actually come in from the gender scan to find him in bed with another woman, the bed you'd bought.

Everyone at med was there for you, supporting you and keeping him from coming anywhere around you. When Paul had come in one day after you'd come back from maternity leave and wouldn't leave that was how you met Jay, Will called him.

_________________

Jay was everything your Paul wasn't. He was the type of man that could make you feel like everything was going to work out by giving you one of those smiles you adored. He always tried to show kindness where he could, to protect those who needed it. When his anger did flare it up it was never without reason and never pointed at you.

He was patient in the fact that you'd been hurt and that Vivian came first in your life. The first time you slept with him you were fairly certain he'd been more nervous than you.

The way he touched you, kissed you, whispered how beautiful you were…you knew then it wouldn't be long before Jay would own your heart completely.

_________________

The day Jay proposed to you he'd also made a promise to always be there for Vivian. Your wedding was in a few months and Jay was in the process of officially adopting her. Your stomach was in knots over the fact that you had to legally send a notice to Paul's last known address because he had signed the birth certificate.

Jay turned to look at you with a smile, Vivian dangling from his neck “What ya say mommy? Can we get pizza?” You nodded “Of course. If that's what little miss wants” he grinned and turned to sit her on her feet “Ok sweetheart. Go get your jacket” she grinned up at him “Ok daddy” and ran towards her room.

You watched her go then felt him pull you into his arms “You're overthinking Mrs Halstead” you cut your eyes up at him, his blue eyes holding you in place “I just don't want him messing up my life again. I'm happy” a smile slipped onto his face “You're engaged to a detective baby. You have all of the twenty first backing you. He won't come near you or her. The adoption will go through and you both will be Halsteads by the end of the year”

You shook your head “I love you Jay” he pulled you into a kiss, speaking against your lips “I love you too”

You were walking out to your car, talking to Will. He was planning to come over for him and Jay to watch the game that weekend and was asking what food he could bring “Not for you and Jay, for my niece”

You laughed lightly “She has Jay's appetite” both of his eyebrows shot up “God help us” you were almost to your car but stopped in your tracks when you spotted the orange carnation on the windshield.

Will didn't notice the flower but knew something was wrong. “Hey, what is it?” He followed your line of sight and saw the flower “Who's that from?” He asked and you barely got out “Paul”

_____________

When Jay rolled up Hailey barely got the car to a stop before he was out. “Did he come near you? I sent Kev and Kim to pick her up. I'll fucking kill him”

He pulled you into his arms after visibly checking you for injuries. “I'm ok Jay just a little freaked out” he nodded “It's ok. I'll take care of it. I'll get Voight to put a patrol on her school, we'll alert hospital security and we'll keep an eye out for him”

“He's not gonna get near her or you” Hailey assured you with a smile. You nodded, laying your head over on Jay's chest.

You were young when you got pregnant with Vivian and had done a lot of stupid shit. You'd been honest with Jay, of course but what if it was brought up in court?

What if your daughter's life was ruined because of decisions you'd made?

_______________

A few days later you got a call from Jay to meet him and Vivian's school. The patrol car had to stop Paul from entering. He'd ran before Jay got there however.

You stood in the middle of the floor intelligence used at the twenty first precinct holding Vivian in your arms. You knew you were safe here, she was safe but the thought of him trying to take her still had you shaken.

Voight walked up behind you and gently touched your back “Sweetheart, why don't you and her take my office?” You cut your eyes at Jay who nodded so you smiled “Thank you” and walked towards the office, closing the door behind yourself to sit on the leather couch.

____________

“We're finding this asshole right?” Adam asked as soon as the office door was closed and Jay nodded “Oh yeah but whoever finds him first doesn't lay a finger on him. You don't scare my fiance and threaten to take my daughter”

Voight nodded “Kim, stay here with her and Vivian. I've got to talk to a few people. If I'm needed to clean anything up, call me Halstead”

________________

“Paul Victors..drunk and disorderly…resisting arrest..minor possession charges…big jump to attempted kidnapping” Adam spoke as he walked up behind him in the bar they'd tracked him to.

“That's my daughter” he argued and Kevin's hand came to rest of his neck “Let's walk outside my man”

The two of them walked him out between them. Jay and Hailey stood against the wall. The moment he saw Jay he tried to run but Kevin pushed him towards Jay who grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against the wall.

“You scared the woman I love, you threatened my daughter” Hailey kept an eye on the people around to ensure no one was paying too much attention while Kevin and Adam kept an eye on the bar.

“She's my dau..” Paul didn't get anything else out before Jay's fist hit his stomach “MY daughter” Paul coughed hard “You son of a bitch”

“Did you spit on my partner?” Hailey asked and Jay nodded, wiping his face like Paul had “He did”

Adam tsk tsked “That's assault Paul” and grabbed his cuffs.

Paul was taken to holding while the unit came back up to find you, Kim and Vivian playing a game in Voight's office.

“Hey baby” Jay greeted, pressing a kiss to your lips then kissed Vivian's forehead “Hey baby girl”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he winked at you “C'mon. We gotta meet Voight” “What about her?” You asked, looking at Vivian.

“We got her” Kim assured you so you let Jay pull you to your feet. “Where are we going?” You asked him on the stairs. He whispered “Voight pulled a Voight baby. That's all you need to know”

Voight called in a few favors he was owed. You and Jay ended up meeting with a judge in his chambers. “Jay if you sign here Vivian will officially be your daughter”

You felt his left hand slip around your waist as his right picked up the pen “I love you” he kissed the top of your head then leaned down and signed the paper.

Voight stood to the side, watching. “Congrats Jay” Jay smiled “Thanks Hank”

Hank looked at you “Now you just gotta get the Halstead last name” “What about Paul?” You asked and Jay shrugged “Platt took care of that. He's leaving Chicago. Only way to not face charges”

“I'm free?” You asked and Jay pulled you into his arms “We're free. Let's go get our daughter”

[yellowocaballero]

a while back you mentioned having written ~40k of a steven moon knight fic as well as some of a frenchie fic? i was just wondering if those would ever be posted/shared or if they will stay in google docs superhell forever (also love your work!! your star wars swap au i particularly enjoyed as well as the tma evilcon + associated fics) best of days to you !!

Look at this evilcon fan over here. Deep fucking cut.

Ah, yes I have. The 40k fic was written for Marvel Trumps Hate, and I didn't post it due to some vaguely complicated but not altogether important reasons. The Frenchie fic was the unfortunate victim towards me very abruptly falling out of MK, lmfao. I think all of my fandoms have The One Abandoned Fic that I was working on when I just Got Over the fandom (Human Relations sequel, so cruelly abandoned....).

Kind of a shame, since the Frenchie fic was not bad and just got kinda roadblocked at the end. I've tossed around maybe finishing it when MKS2 comes out and I inevitably get sucked back in. I don't want to post the MTH fic on AO3 right now (maybe in the future when MKS2 comes out and I get sucked back in etc) but there's honestly no reason not to show you...I think...looking back over this, I think I may have decided that the fic's sense of humor was just too insane. It's very.......uh.....

Uh, ok, just between you and me and other people reading this then. It's a fic about a normal guy who thinks that schizophrenia makes you immortal and autism gives you superpowers.

I'll put it in a follow-up post. In the meantime here's the first few scenes from the Frenchie fic. I really do wanna finish this one day....

“A phone call?”

The jackal barked in elderly confusion.

Steven leaned back in his chair, scratching his stubble. Jake was insisting that they experiment with facial hair and it was best to let him have these little victories. “Well, under the human American law each citizen is entitled to a phone call if they get arrested. That’s probably what he means.” The jackal barked dismissively. “Have you tried telling him that?” The jackal barked again, aggravated. “I see. Quite a pickle. Well, I don’t see any harm in giving him the call. We’d have to warn him that this is a faux legal system and that he’s not entitled to any lawyers, but perhaps he could tell his wife he won’t be home for dinner? That would be nice.”

The jackal growled. 

“We could be nice,” Steven said reproachfully. 

The jackal barked again.

“If you really think about it, nothing’s stopping us. Masters of our own fates and whatnot, right? Well - yes, yes, I know the gods are the masters of our fates, that’s not quite - look, sir, there’s no point in worrying a man’s wife unnecessarily, is there? How would your wife feel if you disappeared off the mortal plane?” The jackal hung its head, and Steven sighed as he stood up. “I’ll lend him my mobile.” The courthouse only had landlines, and even then that was iffy. Magical ancient Egyptian constructs still struggled with 4G. “But if he messes about with my Twitter then we’re adding another thousand years onto his sentence.”

Situations like this were why Steven still showed up to work. This zoo often struggled at little things like this without him. The place had gone to the jackals while he was gone - literally, they had taken over many administrative positions - and it would take months just to clean up the wreckage. Steven didn’t mind - nothing made him happier than a good little routine. Ten to two, that was his preference. Downright inhumane to make a man work any longer than four hours a day. He had even scheduled a deli or restaurant to visit for lunch each day of the week. And Marc and Jake were not allowed. Steven only zone. A man’s office was his castle. Besides - if they knew what he got up to all day they might complain about it. 

The two were deeply asleep - Jake because he found Steven’s entire life dull as dirt and Marc because all of the mandated socialization they were doing lately really took it out of him. Steven found it delightful. Jake’s friends were really nice once you got to know them, and you could reliably get a pained expression out of any of them once you told them so. Marc found their whole thing exhausting and if Jake wasn’t entertained he wanted to die, so around noon the two slept like Alexander the Great’s mummy. Might as well build them little tombs. That was cute. Steven knew exactly what his own tomb would look like. He was practically a pharaoh and everything - maybe Khonshu would make sure he got one? No, Khonshu didn’t care about them nearly that much. Boy, but wouldn’t that be nice.

He gave the Bast statue guarding the elevator its usual nose pat, he smiled and waved at the lumbering shabtis, and he stopped and said his usual ‘hello how are you how’s Nephthys Osiris talking to you again yet’ to the Set statue as the jackal gave him the stink eye for holding them up. Kindness was key, Mr. Jackal. Steven believed in positive Steven-god relations. He lived in hope that the other gods would model good behavior for Khonshu and eventually sway him into becoming less of a dick. 

The ibis perched adorably in a little booth checked his identity as it picked up a little visitor’s badge with his beak and dropped it into Steven’s outstretched hand. It pecked at the computer keyboard a few times, accomplishing nothing other than mangling the G and H keys, and a series of papers ground out of the ancient fax machine. Steven cautiously reached over and fetched the papers, scanning them. They were details of the prisoner’s case, which made Steven feel a bit like one of the Forbidden Lawyers. The jackal led him down the winding paths of the jail as Steven fumbled in his pocket for his glasses, squinting down at the pages. 

“Well, this doesn’t seem too nasty,” Steven announced. “I’m sure we can get this sorted out. Certainly not a problem for our Jake, eh?” He looked at the jackal out of the corner of his eye. “Eh?” The jackal did not respond. “Right?”

Steven made the executive decision that this was a bureaucratic issue and therefore not a Marc or Jake issue. They’d just over-involve themselves and pretend they knew anything about the fake legal system. Marc and Jake were like baby brothers playing video games with you on an unplugged controller. They needed to feel like they were doing something or they’d throw a hissy fit. 

The jackal didn’t have to stop and point out the prisoner. Steven could hear him from all the way down the hall: empathetic, pointed, and incessant French patter. The man sounded like he was arguing against a parking ticket, which displayed a disappointing lack of cognizance as to the severity of his situation and the high likelihood that he was about to experience extrajudicial horrors beyond his imagining. 

Poor guy. Imagine being from France. 

For the first time in Steven’s life his shaky French that he could not actually remember learning but that Marc and Jake did not know actually came in handy. As he got closer he could more or less puzzle out what the fast talking man was saying to the two unamused and unswayed jackals. Could the jackals speak French? It had to be some magic thing. The only animals around here who could actually talk to the humans and explain to them what was happening were the baboons, and they were never polite about it.

“ - one little call! That is it! I will never darken your doorstep again, I swear it. One phone call - and, maybe, letting me go! We can talk about it, let’s talk about it! You and I, we are reasonable men - jackal, I am a reasonable man and you are a reasonable jackal - unless you are a woman? Are you a woman? You are still a jackal at any rate. You are a very reasonable gendered jackal, and I am innocent of all crimes - and even if you are a nongendered jackal, I do not judge, I have friends of all kinds - if you give me one phone call I may call one of my friends and he can help, I am certain he is friends with very many of you people -”

The man cut off the second Steven walked into view of his cell. The cells were very basic, with only a cot and a toilet and one wall of metal bars. He was standing up against the bars, fighting with the two unamused jackals standing against the cement wall in the hallway. The man’s head jolted away from the jackals and fixed on Steven, forgetting his captive audience entirely. His slicked back hair was frayed and mussed, gelled strands sticking up every which way, and his blonde mustache twitching in surprise as his eyes widened.

Steven was sympathetic. Human prisoners were always shocked to find a real bloke around the place. 

He waved a bit awkwardly, his reading glasses flopping in the air. In shaky and awkward French, he said, “Bonjour! My name is Steven Grant. And you are…” He shoved his glasses on, squinting down at the intake form. “Jean-Paul Duchamp?” He pronounced it ‘Jean Paul Dew-Champ’, and judging from the man’s twitch he had mangled it. Oh well. “Right. Do not worry, everything will be fine. You wanted a phone call? I have a phone for you.”

The man stared at him. Steven silently suffered this. He knew he was attractive. 

Finally, the man said in accented but thankfully perfect English, “I have changed my mind. May I speak with you in private, Monsieur Grant?”

The three jackals barked simultaneously. Steven rolled his eyes. Honestly! He knew he was the Avatar of Khonshu now, they didn’t need to be like that! “I don’t think that’s allowed. For security reasons and all. Not that there’s anything you could possibly do to me.” A grizzled jackal with one eye barked. “Emotional - hey! I would have you know that my Myers Briggs said I was the resilient type!” Steven considered the matter for a second. “Oh, but I did have a bad horoscope today. Maybe you’re onto something. Do we have any augurers on staff?”

“Excuse me,” Jean-Paul butted in, increasingly wild eyed, “Do you care to explain what is going on, Monsieur Grant? Because the only explanation I’ve received so far was from paperwork on papyrus and a rude baboon.”

Why was he saying his name like that? The French were so weird.  Steven leaned down slightly to whisper in the nearest jackal’s ear. “And he must have been really bad if a French guy is calling him rude.” The jackals cackled. Jean-Paul’s eye twitched. “Never fear, Mr. Duchamp. I’m sure we can get this whole thing sorted out before supper. Let’s review the details of your case, shall we?” 

“What case?”

“Oh, you’re in an ancient Egyptian courthouse for ancient Egyptian crimes,” Steven said vaguely, sliding on his reading glasses and flipping through the pages again. “Yes, the Egyptian gods are real, no they are not aliens, you better believe in ghost stories Ms. Swan you’re in one, etcetera. Alright, alright…I see…ah! There we are! Charged as accessory to one count of tomb raiding…oh, just a little asterisk here, let’s see what that’s all about…you stole from a children’s hospital!?”

“I did not know that is what we were doing!” Jean-Paul cried. “Someone tells me to fly a medical helicopter, I do not ask questions! If I made a habit of interrogating every one of my clients I would not have a great deal of clients, monsieur!”

“Organs from a -”

“It is called professionalism!” 

“It’s called evil!” Steven said, appalled. The jackals barked in agreement. “I have to say, Mr. Duchamp -”

“It’s doo-shamp. And John-Paul. Mon frere.”

Oh wow, oh no, sorry for the French microaggression. Honestly. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you betrayed your clients the second you discovered what they were stealing and refused to pilot them away you would be facing the same punishment they are. It’s quite karmic. Do you  know what Egyptian canopic jars are used for?” Jean-Paul looked a little queasy. “Exactly. Do you still want that phone call, Mr. Duchamp? You’ll receive your sentence from Thoth with or without it.”

“Then why give it to me?” Jean-Paul asked waspishly.

Steven shrugged. “I wouldn’t want your husband to worry.”

“Rest assured, I am quite single.” Jean-Paul stuck his hand out through the bars. “Give it here.”

Steven pulled up the phone function on his mobile and passed it to Jean-Paul, ignoring his thoughtful expression. He tried to convey ‘mess with my phone and I’ll mess with you’ through rigorous eyebrow tilting, but he knew he was very bad at it. 

Jean-Paul stepped back, swiping on the mobile. It did not look like he was punching in a number. Steven abruptly became anxious that he was snooping on Steven’s mobile. He had remembered to delete his text history with Layla, right? Right?!

He typed something on it before looking up, holding it up oddly to show Steven the screen before passing it back to him. “I changed my mind. No need for a call. Thank you for lending me your phone, monsieur, but it was unnecessary.”

The screen was open to the notes app. Steven abruptly felt like they were passing notes in class. Except not quite, because Steven was the Avatar of an Egyptian god and the other party was in jail for magic crimes. The note read -

marc what is the plan

Oh. Oh!

Steven looked up, and now he could clearly read the man’s irritated ‘why are you looking surprised, this is a matter of utmost secrecy’ eyebrow twitch. “Goodness, I’m so sorry. The egg is really on my face here, I’m so embarrassed.” He looked down at the jackal next to him, who twitched its ears attentively. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. It seems -”

Steven stopped short. 

This man knew Marc. He now knew Steven. Marc really, really, really hated it when this happened.

Marc had spent the vast majority of his life masking. His family had been big believers in the ‘never talk about it and pretend it doesn’t exist’ school of mental illness, which had resulted in a great deal of very terrible problems. Marc did not learn from any of these problems and continued to hide the DID from everybody he had ever met up to and including his own wife for a depressing yet impressive length of time. Steven hadn’t really agreed with the wife decision, because it was a slightly huge aspect of their lives that was very much Layla’s business, but Marc believed in privacy. Steven couldn’t fault him for that. 

It wasn’t anybody’s business if Marc didn’t want it to be their business and they were not Marc’s actual wife. Jake spouted off about shame and internalized ableism, which was undoubtedly true, but nobody was really entitled to his health information. He had the right to self-disclose when he wanted and to who he wanted. Steven only wished that this reasonable desire did not lead to sitcom-esque hijinks as they all switched mustaches and pretended to be each other. Sometimes literally. Jake had his whims.

Marc wouldn’t want this random pilot knowing personal stuff about him. He was probably just some colleague he had worked with one time and never saw again. And Steven was very dedicated to helping Marc and making his life easier, just like Marc was dedicated to helping Steven and making his life harder. Jake was dedicated to being a bully. 

Being involuntarily outed was traumatic for Marc. The last time it happened he fell asleep for four weeks and plunged Steven into a Jake induced nightmare. What if he went back to sleep? What if he never woke up this time? What if he left Steven alone with Jake forever? He couldn’t take that chance.

Marc didn’t have to find out about any of this. No point in stressing him out over nothing. 

In a stunning show of cunning, cleverness, and subtlety, Steven looked down at the jackal next to him. “Actually, can I talk with Mr. Duchamp in private? There’s some things we need to discuss.” The jackal asked what. “Human things.” The jackal asked why it had to be private. “They’re private human things.” Steven paused a beat. “Like periods. We’re going to talk about our periods.”

The jackals knew enough about humans to know that periods were private human things and not enough to know that cisgender men did not get periods. They gave him dubious looks anyway, but when Steven mimed yanking a crescent knife from his chest they obligingly filed out. The grizzled one-eyed jackal turned around and gave John-Paul a gimlet ‘I’m watching you’ eye, but John-Paul just sniffed and looked above it all. French people sure were good at looking snooty.

The second the jackals turned the corner and disappeared from sight Steven took a deep breath and changed. 

He straightened, folding his expression into a deep scowl. He tilted his head forward in Marc’s faux intimidating fashion and affected Marc’s terrible Chicago accent - which was just as fake as Steven’s very real to him British accent, thank you very much! Jean-Paul straightened too, eyes widening again.

“What the hell?” Steven demanded. Ugh. It was hell on the throat to talk like this. “How did you even get yourself into this mess?”

“Me? I am the one in the mess?” Jean-Paul stabbed a finger at Steven, who scowled deeper. “What was that? What is this? Why are you working for an ancient Egyptian courthouse under a false identity?”

“It’s a long story,” Steven snapped. It was really easy to avoid questions as Marc. You just had to be mean. “And it’s none of your business.”

“At this point I think it is very much my business! Jesus, Marc!” Jean-Paul exhaled deeply, rubbing his forehead in a forcible attempt at zen. “What is this, some sort of op? Are you undercover?”

“I said it was none of your business!”

“This is why you don’t run the ops,” Jean-Paul said. Steven was offended on Marc’s behalf. “I am impressed at your acting skills but not at your subtlety.”

“The usual, then,” Steven said wryly. “I’m impressed with your talent at getting arrested.”

“I get it, I get it. Marc Spector twenty, Jean-Paul fifteen. I swear, Marc, only you would get yourself in these predicaments.”

“You’re the one in the predicament. I’m doing fine.”

“My predicament is your predicament.” Why would that be true? He said it so casually, as if it was a given fact. Quite presumptuous of him, in Steven’s opinion. “At least now I don’t have to waste a hope and a prayer that you would pick up your phone this time. How are you going to get me out of this one? They have a giant baboon! Have you seen the baboon!”

“The baboon’s very understanding about my medical needs, so watch it.” Wait - had he wanted to spend his one phone call on Marc? Why? They were talented, cool, and altruistic, but… “Look, I’ll do what I can. But the gods aren’t exactly easy to argue with. I’ve tried to get them to overturn a sentence before and it failed miserably.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard my friend try to do things the legal way.” Jean-Paul folded his arms. “Just bust me out. Isn’t that more your style?”

What a suck-up. Marc didn’t have friends. Steven smiled anyway, brittle and thin. “Don’t worry, Jean-Paul. I’ll do everything I can to help you. Just please try and understand the position I’m in.”

Jean-Paul stared at him. Steven forced himself to look the other man in the eyes even though it made him uncomfortable. Marc always stared down people he didn’t trust. 

“So, uh,” Steven said, “I better call the jackals back -”

“Please admit you do not know who I am.”

Steven froze. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

Jean-Paul sighed. He kneaded his forehead again, shoulders slumped, but something about the gesture had changed. My predicament is your predicament - what did that mean? “Why didn’t you say - non, non, you would have no reason. Marc, please listen to me.” He looked solidly at Steven, and Steven found himself looking away. “It’s Frenchie. I’m your friend. We met in Afghanistan and we’ve worked together ever since. You’re having another amnesiac episode. This happens to you sometimes and it is nothing to worry about. Do you believe me about this?”

Steven opened his mouth. He closed it.

He couldn’t help it - he hunched his shoulders, clutching at his sleeve and drawing away. “I don’t have friends. You’re lying.”

“Call up Layla and ask,” Jean-Paul said. His voice was even and steady, and it struck Steven oddly. The man was literally in a jail cell about to be Egyptian tortured and he was comforting Steven? Looking out for him in a mental health episode? Did the world contain two Lukes? “Do you know Layla? Your wife? Now there’s a thief for you. I am but a humble pilot in comparison.”

That cinched it. Marc would never tell anybody he didn’t trust about Layla. Much less about what Layla really did for a living.

But Marc didn’t trust anybody. Marc wasn’t supposed to trust anybody. That was Marc’s whole thing. He only trusted Steven and Layla. He only trusted Steven and Layla and - Frenchie? What kind of nickname was that? That was so stupid.

Marc was really bad at naming things. Movie poster, pilfered ID. Frenchie. Jeez.

Steven put it down. He let his shoulders hunch back into their natural slouch, bent his voice back towards its natural tilt, and dropped the mean expression. Despite himself, he groaned. 

“Marc’s going to kill me!” Steven wailed. “He’s going to go to sleep again and leave me with Jake!”

Jean-Paul recoiled, surprise turning into shock. Wow, wow, big surprise. Marc or Jake’s friends freaking out over Steven. Stop the presses.

“He’s gonna blame me for this, you know,” Steven cried. Not whined. Nope. “This is why he doesn’t trust me with anything. As if it’s my fault that his friends keep getting arrested? Maybe I should get a little more recognition for being the only one without delinquent friends. Honestly, I don’t know why we can’t keep better company sometimes. A book club? A Dungeons and Dragons group? Anybody who doesn’t punch people for a living? Is that too much to ask?”

“Hm,” Jean-Paul said. “Your dissociative episodes have grown stranger.”

“What were they like in the military?” Steven asked, morbidly curious. “Marc didn’t even mention amnesia episodes. He can be right frustrating, you know.”

Slowly and carefully, Jean-Paul said, “Do you remember the manic episodes?”

“We’re bipolar?” Steven asked blankly.

“That is what I thought. I do not think I was correct.”

Wait. “Did you think Jake was a manic episode?”

“Jake?”

“The other one,” Steven said helpfully.

“Ah. Yes, I think so.” Jean-Paul paused - not as if he was uncertain, but as if he wasn’t sure how the words would be received. “I understand DID is a very difficult disorder.”

Something tugged at the back of Steven’s mind, then yanked. Steven felt himself fall backwards, and something else surged in him -

*

Frenchie stood in front of Marc, right in every way, wrong only in the eyes - only in the way he was looking at Marc - 

Cautiously, he said, “Steven? You look dazed.”

Dazed. That was what he’d always call it. Whenever Marc zoned out and left his body, whenever Frenchie caught him wandering listlessly around camp with no memory of having even left bed - you look dazed, Marc -

“Do you ever get tired of your front row seat?” Marc asked hoarsely.

But Frenchie just smiled - a little cockily, a little kindly. “The view is quite good.”

Marc couldn’t do this. He never could, he could never do anything - but he couldn’t do this. Humiliation crushed him, Frenchie’s affection and acceptance its strange shadow. The shadow was worse than the weight. It was the shadow he couldn’t handle. He couldn’t handle this. 

He turned on his heel and left, leaving Frenchie alone in the cell with no promise of rescue and no aid given, and he found himself walking faster until he turned the corner. The jackals were still huddled like a football team growling thoughtfully at each other, and they perked up when they recognized Marc. He ignored them, walking through the crowd until they leapt away.

Marc’s walk turned into a run. A drum beat rocked his head, pushing hard at his heart. The beat threw him forward, turning his run into a sprint down the winding cement halls. His desperation reached out and thought of a word, and once he thought it he just couldn’t stop.

Jake. Jake. Jake! Jake, I can’t do it again - Jake - !

*

Marc woke up face first in Jessica Jones’ hair clutching a bottle of Jack.

He yelped, jerking away automatically and falling off the couch with a heavy jolt. The bottle jumped out of its hands, landing on the stained wood coffee table with a heavy thump and rolling against a bulwark of beer bottles. 

Marc bolted upright, ignoring his pounding head to take inventory of his surroundings. He relaxed the second he registered where he was. Heroes For Hire apartment. Morning. Luke Cage was passed out in an armchair, sawing wood. Colleen’s bra was draped across the back of a couch. Did these people do anything other than party?

Jessica flopped over, squinting blearily at him in the morning light. Cars honked outside and traffic blared, the sound cutting harshly into his throbbing head. Jessica waved a hand limply at him. She mumbled something that Marc could somehow translate into ‘what’s your problem?’. 

Nothing. No problem. Not right now, not here. Marc climbed back onto the couch, pushing Jessica aside to reclaim his spot. Amazingly, they were barely even cuddling - their couch was one of those IKEA types that you could just keep adding onto, it was fucking ginormous. He left the bottle of Jack on the table, whiskey slowly sloshing in the glass. Jessica went back to sleep immediately, her warm breaths pressed against his back.

The sunlight faded into night, then nothing. 

*

“ - and that’s why I wouldn’t fuck Mr. Fantastic unless Sue Storm was watching.”

Marc bolted upright.

“I left Frenchie in prison!” Marc cried. 

“Man, what kind of weird dreams are you having?” Danny asked. Marc could hear his voice from behind the couch, accompanied by the rattle of silverware and the hefty scent of bacon. “I can interpret it for you if you want. The prison’s probably a metaphor for -”

“Your psyche,” Colleen intoned. 

“That’s a bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Luke said.

Marc rolled off the couch again, slouching his way to the breakfast table and collapsing in his chair. Somebody put a bowl of cereal in front of him and began shoving it in his mouth. Everybody went back to ignoring him and resumed their conversation about the most fuckable superheroes. 

“Monica Rambeau at the top,” Misty said, for what sounded like the five hundredth time. “Very top. Except my girlfriend.”

“I’m the last heir of a samurai clan, not a superhero.”

“Very top. Monica Rambeau.”

“Do you think the Avengers have these conversations about us?” Danny asked Luke. “Like, they have to, right? I don’t think they’re above it.”

“They have mimosa brunches. Man, you know they do. I don’t want to know what the hell they say about me.”

“One time Hawkeye flirted with me and I snapped his bow over my knee,” Jessica reported. “It’s about controlling the narrative, Luke.” Marc’s hand reached out and swiped bacon off her plate, cramming it into his mouth. “Watch it, asshole!”

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Luke told him, half-amused. “Who do we got today?” Marc glared at him balefully, but he held up the ASL finger sign ‘M’ anyway. “Good to see you, Marc. You’re the early bird, huh?”

“Jake was complaining about you yesterday,” Jessica told him gleefully, as if she was snitching on her classmate to the teacher for saying the b word. “He told us all about your intimacy issues. Is it true that you yearn for acceptance, yet are terrified of receiving it?”

“And why,” Marc gritted out between clenched teeth, holding his spoon at a vicious angle, “is Jake always telling you my goddamn business?”

“He likes to vent.”

“Then tell him to shut up next time.”

Misty scraped up eggs with her knife primly. “Five times a day seven days a week. Never listens.”

“Five people live in this apartment, there is no such thing as your own business,” Colleen said, dead-eyed. “I haven’t had privacy in a year.”

“It’s not that different from the monastery,” Danny said philosophically. “Smaller, though.”

“Drunker?” Misty asked.

“Not really.”

“Damn. Guess you had to do something without television.”

Marc’s grip on his spoon tightened so hard that his bones creaked. “Then you can just go tell Jake -”

Tell me yourself. 

“Shut up, Jake! You can all tell Jake that next time he decides to overshare -” Hissy fit ten minutes after waking up, new record. “I wouldn’t throw a hissy fit if you stopped doing shit just to piss me off!” You are an egomaniac. “That is so rich.”

“Still weird,” Misty decreed. 

“Yeah, still weird,” Colleen said.

Luke cut into his hash brown. “I’m just glad that they’re all talking again.”

“Totally glad that Jake’s back to his healthy, regular state of talking to himself,” Colleen said. “Maybe soon he’ll become normal and only serial kill on weekends.”

“I know none of you care about my personal drama,” Jake said flatly, “but would a little respect be so outta line for youse?” Jessica mumbled something around her egg. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, woman, have some self-respect.”

“Steven and I were talking about going to the zoo and looking at the sloths,” Danny said brightly. “Do you still want to do that? I want to see them so bad. All we have back home are sloth bears but I don’t think they’re the same animal.”

“Sloth bears?” Misty asked.

“They mostly eat termites and ants, really,” Steven told her, “not nearly as scary as you’re imagining. Quite adorable. But nothing really beats sloths on the cuteness factor.”

“Steven! Good to catch you. When do you want to go to the zoo?”

“Oh, boy, maybe Sunday? Do we have anything on Sunday?”

I was going to get drunk.

Same. 

“Looks like Sunday’s free!” Steven paused a beat, a smile fixed on his face. “You know, fellas, I can’t help but feel as if we’ve forgotten something.”

We forget stuff incessantly, Marc said, tired. Frenchie was always dragging me out of bars I didn’t remember walking inside. 

There’s an alternate explanation for that one.

See, that’s what I thought, but Frenchie never thought so.

“Frenchie!” Steven cried. He jerked onto his feet, sending his plate rattling. “We left Frenchie in prison!”

Danny reached out and patted Steven on the forearm. “It’s okay, Steven. It was just a dream. The French can’t hurt you.”

“Not if they’re in prison, anyway,” Misty said.

Luke, the only one who ever remotely was on topic, put down his fork and looked at Steven. “Who’s Frenchie? Since when do you know other people?”

“He’s my best friend,” Marc said. He scrambled away from the table, faintly registering that he was wearing Jake’s outfit. He and Steven had their own changes of clothes in the guest bedroom, he’d have to take a minute and change. They hated wearing each other’s clothing. It felt so invasive. Jake hated polyester, Marc hated wool, and Steven hated layers in non-freezing temperatures. “Damn it, what kind of friend am I!”

Jessica squinted at him, sipping her orange juice. “Wait, you have other friends? I thought we were your only friends.”

“He’s my friend, not Jake’s. You’re Jake’s friends.”

“I’m not Jake’s friend,” Misty said.

“Jake’s my friend but I don’t like him,” Colleen said. 

“Jake’s my friend and I like him,” Danny said eagerly.

“No comment,” Luke said.

But Jessica just continued squinting at him - as if she could read something between their three faces, unremarkable individually but painting a clear picture together. “This is what stressed you out so bad yesterday, yeah?” Marc shoved the chair back into the table, averting his eyes. “Why don’t I come with you? Like, buffer zone?”

A part of Marc did want her to come. He didn’t know if that part was Jake or Steven or himself. He never knew where to put himself anymore, how to partition out his life into the good and bad. How to fit together Jake and Layla, how to give Steven the reins on the courthouse work, how to fit into the Heroes For Hire in a space carved for Jake yet welcoming of anybody. 

It was so easy. It scared Marc. 

“I can handle my own army buddy,” Marc said gruffly. He bent down and kissed Jessica on the cheek. “I’ll call.”

Marc swept out the door, ignoring Jessica calling “You better!” behind him.

[truthinquotations]

While i absolutely love malevolent and everything about it from its insane concept to the fact that everything is done by one fucking guy i cant help but laugh at the fact that theres no difference between supernatural and malevolent in terms of queerbating 😭😭 i think I’m cursed to like homoerotic media made by straight men who wont ever commit to the bit they created

I’m not saying that i want them to be together like explicitly or whatever its just that i know that theres no reason to add certain things in the plot other than to create this kind of ambiguous state. And i know its not just me cos my bestie who got me into malevolent and recently watched all supernatural says the same thing😭😭 So now we’re just making jokes about how stereotypically “bury ur gays” or “make them go their separate ways” the ending will be lmao in true fashion of the best queerbait media

Top 3 are: 1) they get separated and go their separate ways cos John wants to “find himself” 2) they get separated and john goes to find lily (and don’t get me started on lily that whole thing is fucking HILARIOUS to me) 3) one of them dies and the other is forever in mourning

Again i love malevolent but the last seasons really r trying it in this department 😭😭😭

Edit. Lmao i know its a controversial take so not surprised at the comments. First of all i cant be “wrong” about a feeling I have its just how i FEEL about the show in the later seasons. You can say you disagree but to say that im wrong about my feelings just doesnt work lol im not here to defend a thesis. Secondly i know for a fact it’s not just me and my bestie feeling this way since yk this post also has ppl who agree with me🤷. If you get what I’m talking about you immediately understood my point, if you don’t, u don’t, its ok, I’m not advocating to change the podcast lmao

Pls stop with the whole “a lot of people see it as a aromantic relationship they dont have to be a couple friends tell ily to each other often” respectfully IN MY OPINION they have passed that line of friendship a long time ago. You can interpret it however you want same as I can interpret it however I want. But as a person who has a couple fandoms where i love the friendships and platonic relationships of characters i have never genuinely paid attention to to the amount of ily characters say bcos yk it would be a regular amount😭😭 Same as it never struck me weird if some characters been jealous in a friendship bcos it was clear that it was a friendship pure and simple. Which js why iI dont feel like jarthur is written as friends even if they never get together (which i dont even want lol i dont see how it would fit into plot atp). Honestly just how many times yall tell your friends that you love them or be ready to kill their other friends 💀💀

Some moments in malevolent feels eerily similar to supernatural and tw and if you get it you get. Two that come to mind is how in spn they had dean have sex with a female angel when everyone obvs been shipping him with cas. And how teen wolf brought dereks little sister that was practically his copy in every way on screen and alluded to stiles having a crush on her 😭. I get similar vibes when john brings lily out of fucking nowhere as his “light” (Or purpose or tether to humanity smth like that i forget the exact wording). I died laughing when hearing that like im sorry i get what he’s saying you don’t have to explain it to me but he brings her up so abruptly and i was just sitting there mentally asking myself “what do you know about her??? Who IS lily???” Like we’re suddenly meant to think lily is a bigger influence during those 2 months on johns humanity then arthur is😭😭 i mean come on even arthur was like ???

i wouldn’t be as surprised if they showed us some interaction like lily reading to arthur or smth like us hearing her voice or idk her last fucking name at least😭😭 something that would make it clear why he’s bringing up that character from fuck knows when other then its the only female character that can be considerably linked to john as his “light” in this scenario.

You can view their relationship however you want if you dont see it perfect then its not meant for you. I however genuinely cant view this as just friendship, the whole being jealous to the point of wanting to kill someone who seems as devoted to your partner as you are, refusing to be parted even when opportunity WAS presented and so on. If you can thats great, media is not meant to be interpreted in one way I can say its not friendly and you can say its your fav aromantic duo 🤷

I dont even think Harlan is doing it on purpose we just have very different definitions of what platonic means lmao. However the increase of these moments in the last seasons felt kind of purposeful to me lol which was what brought this on. And pls dont tell me its cos they got closer in the latter seasons arthur killed himself in s1 they’ve been close😭😭😭

I just don’t think that a person who hasn’t heard that harlan wont make them a couple, hasn’t heard a bit of discourse, listened to the podcast and certain moments of “ily” or their separation anxiety yada yada yada and would never think they have romantic feelings for each other or that its not where its headed.

Also if I feel like i experienced this exact same thing with media before and it was called queerbait and universally acknowledged as such I’m not gonna reinvent in my head definition of friendship and platonic love to fit what was previously labelled as queerbait there, Im gonna call it queerbait. Especially since it feels like every other media that was labelled as such before. Im not advocating to change the podcast or cancel it or whatever im expressing an opinion i have on my blog that i know other ppl even if not a lot agree with.

I stand with my cancelled take 💀💀💀

[bad268]

I would love a story with Elastic Droid where reader is always cold and steals droid's hoodies and stuff to stay warm and one day during a group live stream reader walks behind them to get something and everyone including chat freaks out because they know it's droid's clothes

+ Could you write some living together fluff about elastic droid 🙏 -Anon

+ could you write something for droid with an s/o that’s really energetic all the time but just randomly crashes out and sleeps for hours 😋😋😋 -Anon

Domestic Bliss (Elastic Droid X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Youtubers

Requested: Clearly (Hope yall don't mind I combined these)

Warnings: None

POV: Second Person (You/you)

W.C. 1447

Summary: 4 things you and Droid do that's domestic

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~ (^Pinterest)

“Can I trust you to saute these onions without burning the place down?” You asked as you finished cutting the veggies for dinner. You were making dinner for the boys who were coming over to celebrate your engagement, but you had made cookies earlier with Droid. In true chaotic fashion, the flour had gone everywhere, and you wanted to take a shower before they got there.

“I think I can cook a few onions,” Droid scoffed, taking the spoon from your hand and lifting the cutting board to put the now-chopped onions in the pot. “It’s not like it’s rocket science.”

“Ok, I’m trusting you with this. Just please don’t burn the house down,” You replied before slowly turning and walking away. You were about halfway through your shower when Droid came into the bathroom. You peeked around the curtain to see him looking frantic. “Please tell me you didn’t burn it. That was our only onion.”

“No! It’s just not cooking!” Droid defended immediately as he stopped pacing and looked at you. “I don’t know why it’s not cooking! I turned the stove on, I turned it up when I noticed it wasn’t cooking, and I don’t know what to do now.”

“Give me the towel. I’ll check it out,” You climbed out and wrapped yourself in the towel before walking into the kitchen. Immediately, you smelt gas, and your eyes widened as you looked at Droid. Then you ran over to the stove and turned it off. “Are you insane!?”

“What did I do?” He shouted after you, following you into the kitchen. “The stove was on, but it wasn’t getting hot!”

“Droid, babe, you turned the gas on, so good job, but you didn’t light it,” You explained as calmly as you could. “Gas stoves need to be lit.”

“So I almost just gassed us?” He laughed, not realizing the severity of the situation. 

“You know what? Get out of the kitchen,” You said, snapping your fingers as you pointed for him to leave the kitchen. “Go order a couple of pizzas. You’re banned from the kitchen.” ~~~

“Droid!” You shouted from your bedroom. You knew he was in the middle of a stream, but you needed his help now. “Droid!”

“I’m here,” He sighed as he walked in, taking in the scene before his eyes widened, and he rushed to you. You just bought some clothes online, so you were trying them on. This one shirt, however, seemed to be 5 sizes smaller than you ordered, and you couldn’t get your head out.  “What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know, but I need help,” You rushed out, starting to get claustrophobic. “I’m never buying anything from this store again! Their sizing is so off!”

“If it makes you feel better,” Droid started as he grabbed the front of the shirt and pulled it down just enough to meet your eyes, “it’s a cute top.”

“A cute top that doesn’t fit,” you rolled your eyes. “I buy clothes to fit me, not the other way around here. I don’t even know if I want this shirt anymore.”

~~~

A quiet knocking pulled Droid’s focus away from his screen. He was in the middle of editing a video, and there was this one part that was really pissing him off. He could not get this clip just right, and he was focusing so hard on it that he lost track of time. 

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh as he spun the chair around to see you wrapped in one of your throw blankets from the living room. You slowly waddled towards him, stopping directly in front of him for a second before sitting on his lap. You didn’t say anything as you simply laid your head on his shoulder.

“You tired?” Droid whispered as he wrapped his arms around you and swayed the chair back and forth a little. “It can't be that late, right?”

“It’s almost midnight,” You whined as you rubbed your face against his neck. “You said you would be done by 9, so we could watch that new movie.”

“I’m sorry, I got carried away with this video,” Droid apologized as he rested his head on top of yours before turning back to his computer. “You can stay with me until I finish up. How does that sound?”

“Better. The bed is so cold without you, and this blanket isn’t really helping,” You complained as you pressed your body closer to Droid’s.

“Maybe you're getting sick or something,” He commented more to himself than you as he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. “You are a little warm. Here,” He pulled back, having to pry your arms from around him as he took off his hoodie and helped you put it on, “that should help you for a while. I’ll finish this up and tell the guys I can’t stream with them tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to cancel the stream,” You tried to object, but Droid just pulled you back to rest again. “The fans will miss you.”

“They’ll understand I gotta take care of you,” Droid replied immediately, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. “If anything, they'll call me a simp.”

~~~

Droid was, once again, in the middle of streaming Five Nights at Freddy’s with Puffer when they randomly heard a glass shatter, followed by sprinting. Puffer jumped in shock, thinking it was in the game at first, but when the running sounded too real, he turned to look at the door before back at Droid, who was unaffected.

“I think Oso broke something,” Puffer said before pointing at the door. “Do you wanna switch and go check?”

“It was probably Y/n more than Oso,” Droid chuckled under his breath, opting to just stick the night out. “It happens more often than you’d think. Now, if we hear a louder thud or it just stops, there’s a problem.”

Puffer looked between Droid and the door multiple times as he continued hearing running around the house. It went on for almost 20 minutes before it suddenly stopped. 

“Uh, I think something happened,” Puffer pointed out. Droid was back on the game after Puffer died at 2 AM. “There’s nothing.”

“Give it five minutes tops,” Droid replied after briefly pausing the game and listening. Then he went back to the game. Sure enough, about three minutes later, there was quiet knocking at the door. Droid quickly paused the game and gestured for Puffer to take over. “Here, you play.”

They swapped places before Droid continued to the door to see you sheepishly looking at him. He sighed, opening his arms for you to collapse in them as he rocked you back and forth for a bit.

“I broke that one vase you got me for our anniversary,” you whispered as you buried your face in his chest further, trying to hide from his reaction. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll get you another one, but you’re not hurt right?” Droid comforted before changing his attention to look at your arms and legs for any cuts from the glass or bruises from maybe running into walls (one time!).

“I’m fine,” you chuckled tiredly trying to lean back into his body. “I slipped a bit in the kitchen and knocked my elbow, but other than that, I’m good. Tired, but I’m good.”

“Alright, come here,” he pulled you back into his arms after looking wearily at your arms. You wrapped them around his torso before he could scrutinize them too much. “You can sit with me and Puffer while we stream.”

“But I wanna sleep,” you whined, planting your feet at the door. “How much longer are you streaming?”

“At least another hour,” Droid guessed as he looked back at Puffer who just died again. “Dude, you suck at this game!”

“I don’t see you playing right now!” Puffer shouted back. 

“Fuck you, dude! I’m being a good boyfriend!” Droid shouted back before turning his attention to you. You were almost asleep against his chest so he dropped his voice to whisper, “Here, you can sit with me. If you fall asleep, I’ll try not to be too loud for you. Actually, I think you’re already asleep.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2025. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[missmarveledsblog]

Hand on Heart (Jake Seresin x Singlemom!reader) chapter 7

Summary: While Jake is coming to terms with the strong feeling building , y/n is trying to make sense of her own while showing she was ok , only when everything become to real well it hard to ignore it all

warning: some angst, allusions to shitty childhood and toxic parents, Jake coming to the rescue in more ways than one , some goofy humour , some feels , not proofread also written on my phone so if there is error let pretend there isnt ok 👀

previous part

Why was it so difficult , it shouldn’t be  this wasn’t the first time she was this close . Yet she was forcing her eyes to look at the screen in front of her and stop staring the man , her friend who was here to comfort her . She tried to remind herself of the play boy thing but even she was starting to doubt that or maybe he was just like that with friends … but he didn’t do that for the other right? . 

“ hey whats up don’t tell me your bored after defending the hell out of this so called masterpiece “ he chuckled. 

“ no it’s still good just i’m hungry “ she lied wondering was his voice always that sexy . 

“ javy  got us burgers they should be here in twenty “ he laughed and she bit her bottomed lip ignoring how the touch made her skin come alive , she was upset was all  or what she kept telling herself. 

“ What time is Belle coming home at?” he asked. 

“  benny fucked up the flights so  gonna be the afternoon “ she rolled her eyes. 

“ I can't wait to see her , it’s too quiet here” he teased. 

“ i can be noisy snake and ladders “ she got up and headed to the kitchen . “ want a beer? “ she called . 

“ yup” he called back . “ i sure hell need one “ he muttered ignoring how hot his skin felt . this wasn’t like him reduce to flushing at  silly remarks  like a puberty ridden boy  popping boners all cause of pretty girls paid him attention . “ pull it together “ he scolded himself 

“ i appreciate you  keeping me company  tonight “ he looked up to see her handing him the beer . “ it means alot but i hope i ain’t cramping your style “ . 

“ cramping my style “ his brow raise and an amused grin on his face. 

“ you know the whole lady killer thing you got going on , you know what i mean asshole “ she laughed , her head thrown back  he love seeing her like this , happy and herself .  

“ nah it’s not as fun as you make it sound like “he shook his head. 

“ what sex is boring” she arched her brow. 

“  meaningless sex after awhile is , not at the time but after” he admitted a truth he never thought he would be  saying out loud . but sure as shit did he mean it . 

“ sound like you want a connection “ she smiled softly her cheek laying on the arm that was propped on the back of sofa . 

“ guess i am “ he didn’t know how or why it happened as he leaned forward suddenly he was doing the same almost studying her face  every single part  lost in the action to see her doing the very same time , like he was moving more forward , he was close so close  yet the doorbell ringing snapped whatever trance the  two were in before she was rushing off of the chair and heading off. the soft giggle and door closing she held the bag up almost awkward smile on her face as she looked back . 

“ the burgers” 

“ good i'm hungry “ he nodded sadly knowing he was so close and so far all in one breathe. the rest of the night was back to normal neither bringing up the almost moment , not knowing if it was just them or something that  was pulling them to each other.  it was like the universe was calling to them both and them refusing to see it .  talking away  to the point when he leaving , his hug lingered  , his steps slow almost hesitation  in the movement before sucking it up and getting  in his   truck and driving home  . His  mind trying to separate  his wishes from reality , did he image it or did he actually  nearly kiss the  woman he couldn't get out  since he's first laid eyes on her.  it had to be some hypnosis  of some form  , how it was impossible to even fathom it all  seemed nuts , crazy  , it was something himself before her would of laughed at yet it was happening and he didn't know what to do . this wasn’t  like all the others , he knew that  a quick fuck and goodbye would help cure it all. yet his cocky ego was no where to be found only some part of himself he didn't recognise , a vulnerable almost afraid side that would bare himself to this woman and it end badly so maybe keeping it inside , keeping himself from acting and it would pass would be  the right call because he did not want to lose two people who became a fast and sure part of his life .  he could suck it up right? . 

she barely lifted her head from the pillow and already she felt it coming . that sick gut wrenching feeling of knowing she would see him , was she ready   to stand face to face with beau simpson … not even a little bit . she was raised better than  that , her grandmother raised her strong and resilient . she could  be civil , she could do this . mainly because one she just got here , two moving wouldn't  be good for belle and three she  liked it here so  her maybe (definitely is) sperm donor was not going to mess with that , it wasn't going to mess with her life .  she went through her life of messy parental drama that she wasn't  going to let it dictate  her adult one too.  a stretch and yawn as she headed  to grab a shower , knowing jake was probably on his way giving the new sort of routine the two had not that she minded one bit. just like she predicted the moment she got dried off and into her overalls the doorbell rang and she was opening the door  there he stood the tray of coffee in one hand and bag filled with food in the other . 

“ Why are you dressed? “ his eyebrows furrowed as he followed her down to the kitchen .

“ can't go work naked i mean i want mav to look at me differently but not too differently “ she teased taking two plates out for the food .  “ Look, a dad abandoning me isn't  new  so I'm not gonna hide away” she shrugged even though the world made her stomach twist and feelings pushing down . 

“ if you wanna go home at any point tell me or mav ok “   he sighed knowing it was useless  even if he thought it was a bad idea .  He hoped that Belle would be home earlier than scheduled knowing one that her mama missed her and two so did he and the dagger squad plus belle could take her mind off of every as well as her big brother that was for .   he could tell she was off no matter how much she pretended it didn't . that strong unbothered  front showing cracks before the facade of being ok showed once more. when they left out her front door instead of carpooling she hopped into her own car  so he got in with her, leaving his truck in the driveway even waving to her neighbours as they headed out . 

“ i don't need a babysitter gameboy” she  rolled her eyes . 

“ I ain't babysitting nectarine” he shot back . “ that's nats job “ he chuckled as she whined. 

 “ I'm ok really look its shitty  , it is  and it sucks but  i ain't gonna cry over a repeated situation , i don't want to be babied"she sighed . 

“ ok but if it gets too much ?”  he asked. 

“ i will tell mav.. and you “ she rolled her eyes as they pulled   into the car park ... somewhat satisfied he got out of her car , heading into the base. The first sign was her greetings. they weren't cheer filled greetings more half assed ,  force just like the smile on her face . it didn't quite reach her eyes and then when her eyes landed on beau simpson she froze , visibly froze  in her spot before he wrapped his arm around  her off shaking his head when he saw the man was about to move towards them .  

The dagger squad knew something was up , they knew something happened with the cyclone but not to the full extent only drawing their own sort of conclusions .   each wanting to comfort her in some way and yet not knowing what to say without upsetting her more.  Mav could see throughout the morning of her watching the entrance every now and again or during lunch how she walked in her head low. Nothing like the woman who walked in like life itself , no she was almost making herself so small , hidden away from everyone . His heart hurt for the young girl  , a small amount of time she certainly made a big impact in their lives that was for sure . Then  he looked down at his phone , maybe breaking rules and laws wasn't a good thing to do but when it would help  he didn't mind.  a small smile on his face as he headed out the cafeteria . while she ate she could feel their eyes on her , each mouth opening and closing something and nothing to say all in one .  

“ ask , i know y'all  wanna so go “ she looked up as they suddenly   found their food very interesting except nat  who wanted to get to the point . 

“ was he inappropriate with you?” .

“ not in the way your thinking , he maybe my dad  my mama said he is but then again she also said ny dad is my dad so i cant really confirm her word on things” she watched each and every fork fall . “ you where there why you surprise , even punch his ass “ she looked at jake . only for rooster to choke on his drink . 

“ you punched cyclone are you crazy “ javy hissed. 

“ it ok i warned him not to do anything “ she waved them off . 

“ ok back to he might be your father what the hell” nat whispered. 

“ yeah apparently when he was stationed in texas  he and my mom had a fling while my maybe , maybe not father was on a bender and well then he watched me grow up til i was a child without thinking hmm that could be mine or he did and just didn’t care “ she hummed.  as they all looked back at their superior than looked at her   a couple of time but just as she went  to stop them something else gained her attention . 

“MAMA , MAMA  “ The little voice that made her hardest days the brightest as she turned  to see her big brother and the light of her life standing at the entrance of the cafeteria .  right there and then the woman before the massive secret , before her world was shifted . The bright happy cheer filled smile they new and loved . 

“ Belle “ rooster cheered . 

“  back of turkey  i will fight you “ she  warned getting up from her seat as the man gulped and her friends laugh .   rushing up gaining the toddlers attention but not only the toddlers attention . 

he felt her heart fall into his stomach , the moment he saw Benny standing at the doorway with a small child , he knew who it was straight off the bat .  the mini version of y/n calling out for her . how he wanted to be able to enjoy the reunion and yet the fact of being a grandfather being all too real . The fact he had missed out on so much made the guilt rise more and more and yet he was stuck to the seat. Beau Simpson never claimed to be perfect but in that moment right there and then he felt lower than garbage  for ignoring and not doing the right thing all those years .  It took all of him not to crawl to her and  her daughter on his hand and knee begging for forgiveness , to catch up to make up for everything he missed out on . he kept himself stuck to that chair like the rest of the people in that cafeteria  . he was  stuck being a bystander in the scene instead of a participant. he had to make it right , he had to find a way to be in her life  and he was ready to go through hell and back if that was the case. 

Just that little smile , the feeling of her little body in her arms  was what she needed, what made her centered. It was also what made her aware of the mess of the situation  , another thing she was going to have to explain to her daughter once she was older. when it really felt real and made her hypersensitive to her  surroundings . She could feel an audience , feel his eyes and belle was there . that sinking feeling making her rush out with  her daughter in her arms  from the peering eyes and worried looks . not a moment of hesitation , not a second passing before Jake was out of his own seat and rushing after her . It didn't matter nothing in that moment, only the fact that she was ok . 

“ Just friends my  ass “ Benny smirked before walking over to the one man he did have a problem with . “ Sir, I would like to speak to you,personal matter, maybe tomorrow at the hard deck i believe it's called, ” he said as Beau nodded before making his own exit in the direction to find his little sister. 

she was sitting in the her car belle on her lap , feeling more herself , more free of his presence . she wasn't in his view hell she made it her sole goal to  keep her daughter out of the  her own parental messes , her mom nor father could she even call him that  now have met belle and if she could keep it that way. just because she grew up in their messes it was never going to be that way for belle , she made that promise that day in the hospital when she first held her daughter in her arms . 

“jake” the little voice giggled only for Y/n to see the blonde smiling down at her daughter . 

“ i wanna go home “ she finally said . 

“ ok let get you girls home “  

“ y'all wait for me  would be nice” she could hear Benny calling making her realise she completely forgot he was there.  “ you ok peach” he asked softly taking no offense knowing she was going through to much and putting on too brave of a face . 

“ I wanna go home” that voice was so small , so vulnerable, something she never showed to anyone other than her brothers. 

“  sit in back with belle , hey you not gonna get in trouble for heading off base” he turned to the blonde . 

“ nah i already talked with mav he cleared me to leave at any time” he shrugged . it wasn't a complete lie  , he waited til she was completely busy before talking with the captain. Honestly, permission or not he was willing to break rules , she was worth breaking rules if it meant she was ok .  The fact he was so happy to see Belle to know what he was feeling wasn't going to go away soon  or maybe at all .  no he knew there and then those two had his heart , he knew he had to tell her at some stage but now wasn't that time  , he could put his feelings aside for now they  in his mind were not important not now when she  needed him , needed her friend . 

 the relief  she felt even more so when they walked into  her home , her safe space .  she notice as they walked in how perfectly he fit in that space how even when she thought she was going to break each and every time Jake seresin held her up and kept her grounded . how much Belle was excited for the man to be around as he carried her into the house while Benny was looking at his sister , almost seeing a gaze he hadn’t  seen in a long time but he knew it a long time ago . 

“ain't that a funny thing” he chuckled .

“ what ?” yet she didn't look  his way not once . 

“I never thought I see it again, that look I only ever saw growing up when she did anything from cooking dinner to helping with homework “ he explained, making her turn brows furrowed in confusion at the nonsense .  “  yeah like the way grandpa used to look at grandma, the look of true love” he pushed her gently making his way into the house looking, giving himself a tour while she stood in shock and realization that only added to her jumble messy mind. Her eyes shot to the blonde and a gasp spilt from her lips, she was falling for her new friend and she was falling hard. 

Taglist : @zara-aliza08 @stoneyggirl2 @lyn-js

[not-yet-so-broken]

the way you talk about victims that you don't care about is fucking disgusting. but you are so convinced of your own righteousness that you are blind to your obvious disrespect, and just assume anyone that disagrees w you just lacks your superior moral clarity.

Exhibit A

same day. this is victim blaming. this is rapist talk. no introspection. funny joke about how victims wish for it.

Exhibit B

this is victim blaming!! this is rapist talk!! prev was bad enough but there is a pattern of showing sympathy and platform to this obvious pro-rapist message. why. both these messages show obvious downplaying of victims and dehumanizing their response.

complete obvious lack of respect or empathy. tell me w a straight face youd trust a male or even a woman that posted about PIV rape anything close to this. with this language, or this victim blaming, or this no-care attitude.

well i wouldn't. and i dont trust yall either when u say this shit and then try to hide behind neutrality and civility.

Exhibit C

okay so lets get this straight. she say that when women rape she doesn't see that as horrific or terrible. its SO much less less way less horrific, that the point u both agree on is that the actual horrible thing is to even compare them and it'll cause bias to treat ACTUAL victims with the trivial treatment u think the 'less bad' situation deserve.

you agree. none of this is "contrary to your world view". more, you add on that you dont even think is violence at all. you don't think its rape at all. you gladly tell those women they are not violent and not rapists and did nothing horrific. got it.

Conclusion

according to you when a man rapes a woman, that is evil, horrific, traumatic, degrading. ok i agree.

but when a woman rapes a boy or girl, even a girl that begs not to be raped... now it's BIG LOL? you see no violence, no horror, not terrible? you think it's WRONG to compare this minor crime to "real victims"?

you think rape victims of men deserve support

but rape victims of females? they deserve the obvious propaganda and disrespect. they deserve to be taunted and say NOTHING a woman can do can be rape, can be terrible, can be horrific. they deserve to be told they wanted it. In fact you go further. These fake victims need to be told THEY'RE the real pieces of shit! they're the harmful ones here! bc they're doing a "disservice" to REAL victims if they think what happened to them is even 1% comparable. NOTHING to compare at all.

you think rapists deserve to be killed

but women who rape... well is not really rape., so they are NOT "rapists", you strongly DEFEND them from being called rapists. none of u express any hatred at ALL for these predators. the conversation in ALL three posts is about how what they did was in some way NOT wrong and you think badly of their VICTIMS. "not horrific", "not terrible", "not really degrading", "not unwanted". you are EVEN willing to entertain that they did not even do sexual assault AT ALL. is just NOTHING and should be treated like NOTHING.

like most moids u think you've ascended and have figured out the evil fake victims that need to be taken down a peg. maybe instead of trying to lecture us about how we're fake victims and nothing but whiny fuckmeat that nothing happen to, lecture the obvious rape apologists (and fucking racists) that AGREE with you and haunt your posts and comments and HARASS RAPE VICTIMS.

this entire community is filled with you fucking rape apologists and rapist defenders. fuck off.

Maybe a stupid question but do you fully agree with female-eren about male rape not being as bad as female rape?

The post in question:

Your message isn’t hugely clear - by ‘male rape’ do you mean rape perpetrated by males, or rape inflicted upon males?

The key point posited in the post is that being forcibly penetrated is likely to be typically more fundamentally traumatic than being forced to penetrate another person. Personally, as someone who has had neither experience, this makes sense to me.

I’ve previously made a post about how other forms of penetration, even consensual penetration, can cause trauma simply due to the violation of the boundary between the self and the other - think dentistry, surgery, even infection phobias. Having that boundary violated nonconsensually must be absolutely horrific, even without the added trauma of pain, possible infection, or impregnation.

I guess the simplest answer is - nothing from that post immediately jumped out at me as being counter to my worldview. I’m open to civil discussion about it though.

[aishabellasbigblogofeverything]

I love it when women hate men. I love it when women are allowed to vent to each other about how horrible and creepy men are. I love it when women form friendships with and prioritize each other over relationships with men(whether they're attracted to them or not). I love it when women put men dni in their bios and on their nude photos and on posts on their blogs. I love it when women refuse to mollycoddle and accommodate entitled male feelings with "but this doesn't mean I hate all men, I know a few men who are great, I love my father/sons/brothers/uncles/male cousins/guy friends" I love it when women complain about men WITHOUT "not all men" being a disclaimer. I love it when women avoid socializing with/refuse to be around/befriend/get close to men because they know men can't be trusted. I love it when women make "kill all men" jokes. I love it when women offer absolutely no concern or care for men's feelings and if their misandry offends men whatsoever because why should we, men are the oppressor class who have raped and killed and abused us and kept us as subjugated as second-class citizens for millennia, they regularly mistreat us and the women in their own marginalized communities still every single day and make this world so much harder and more awful for us to be in, and if we choose to hate them and not spare them any sympathy then so be it, and I don't just mean "men as a class" either, you can be a woman who doesn't want to have anything to do with any man on an individual basis and completely cuts off men from her personal life too and ykw I will love and fucking support you in that because men deserve absolutely NOTHING from us. If they're so tough and strong then they can handle it just like they can handle being lonely. If you are a woman who hates men, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A LESBIAN AND/OR A TRANS WOMAN, then just know that I love you. I love you, I support you, and you are safe here.

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[autistic-katara]

icl i would be at least a little happy with almost any ending for stranger things but one thing that would ruin all of it would be an epilogue (of a decade or more later)

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[mars-ipan]

experiencing any level of joint pain for longer than a day or two has only reinforced my belief that ppl with chronic pain are actually the strongest motherfuckers on the goddamn planet

[medicinemane]

"Our thing connects to an app!!!"

Ah... I hate it

[lesbiancharliedalton]

-

[liquidstar]

I'm glad the "Satire requires a clarity of purpose and target lest it be mistaken for and contribute to that which it intends to criticize" meme is getting critiqued in its usage because... While the sentiment itself is absolutely true... I feel like sometimes, perhaps, it's not a work of fiction's fault that you're personally bad at picking up on satire

[mainfaggot]

just watched challengers at the cinema w my little sister. it was so intense wtf