#and it is a LOT more compelling than whatever was going on with him and cas in the whole show let alone this episode... anyways
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m1ckeyb3rry · 6 months ago
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GUESS WHO FINALLY CAUGHT UP W THE BLLK MANGA đŸ€©
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cannibalisam · 2 years ago
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5.18 is insanity inducing. dean writing a letter to sam that says "sam, you told me once that you pray everyday. not sure if that's still true. probably isn't. but if it is, give it one last try for me. and sammy - one winchester lost to this fight is enough." dean being a little bitch the whole time because no one will let him kill himself (metaphorically). "you know sam and dean winchester are psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on eachother, right? [...] trust me, kid, when the heat gets hot, they're not gonna give a flying crap about you. hell, they'd rather save each other's sweet bacon than save the planet." and sammy wins the Little Brother Pageant (as if it was even a contest) because zachariah is right. as soon as dean sees sam spitting up blood he makes up his mind đŸ™„đŸ€Šâ€â™€ïž "honestly? the damnedest thing. i mean, the world’s ending. the walls are coming down on us, and i look over to you and all i can think about is, “this stupid son of a bitch brought me here.” i just didn’t want to let you down."
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emdotcom · 7 months ago
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I changed my mind. Hater behavior is undeserved, when it comes to works, & idgaf about holding creators accountable when their games are mid, anymore.
#em.txt#now i only care about how you treat your workers tbh#so there are still series i hate. but now I don't want to be mean to people who put time & effort into making shit#this is about post shift 2. people were too fuckin mean to Rjac for a game he made for free#& as a bitch who loves that game a lot i see your criticisms i understand. but you're not gonna be mean to him abt this#that fucking teen that held that interview & told him he needed to be held accountable for his mistakes. god#he made this shit for free across four years. what can happen in four years? what did he work through?#to deliver you a free game. even if you don't fucking like the game if you invite a creator on to talk about their works#you don't fucking talk to them the way uyeah did. shit was cruel & uncalled for.#this game is fucking good but it's forever going to be burried as a game that's complicated with weird tutorials#ps2 is fun. you should try it. if you don't get it -- ask. I'll answer any question at any time#i will vc you i will write a text doc -- whatever you want. more people need to experience this fucking game#it's compelling in a way few games are to me.#i can homestly only compare it to rain world but not for a reason that's overt & easy to explain. more in how it feels to play#rather than what you do.#man. idk. i gotta learn how to talk about shit i love without being mean now#this started because i was talking mad shit to my friends & it asked me to stop because i was downtalking something she loved a lot#& i realized this isn't fun for people. i thought we were having fun but tbh? I'm just a mean negative bitch#& that's not fun. that's mean.#i have to redo this character arc from when i was 13 because i guess I didn't learn it the first time around#cynicism doesn't make you funny or cool. it makes you mean & unfun to be around. finding kind things to say is tougher.#if you can present your criticism nicely then maybe you can criticize too#but that alone does not a good critique make & it definitely don't make you fun at parties#listen. i am still gonna be a bitch. but i am going to be less of one.
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lord-squiggletits · 2 years ago
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I think another thing that annoys me about how prevalent it is for people to read MTMTE/LL and nothing else, is the fact that JRO's depiction of Cybertronian-organic relationships is slanted so heavily in favor of Cybertronians portraying organic aliens as tyrannical racists killing colonies for no reason (Galactic Council, the Black Block Consortia) that love torturing Cybertronians because they hate them so much and don't see them as sentient (that dude who was selling Cybertronian torture dolls to alien races).
And like, something that happens as a result of people only reading MTMTE/LL is that they get this idea in their head that it's Cybertronians who are oppressed by the rest of the galaxy. And an unfortunate.... take that I see as a result of this ends up with stuff like Decepticon/Megatron apologists trying to frame technoist colonialism as basically Cybertronians trying to strike back against being unfairly persecuted and being seen as lesser by alien species? They don't always explicitly say it as such, but I've seen a lot of people try to downplay the whole technoism and colonialism thing by framing it in context to organic racism and how both sides are equally bad or something like that.
Which is not fucking true because if you actually were to read exRID and OP, you would know that there are multiple Cybertronian colonies throughout the galaxy that were created by razing previously occupied organics planets, that Nova Prime (one of the original 13 Primes and the first Prime to rule a united Cybertron) wanted to conquer the entire galaxy which led to the creation of cold construction in the first place, and that the reason organic species hate Cybertronians so much is because Cybertronians were the first ones to go out and start conquering other planets millions of years ago.
It's even more infuriating because you don't even need to read other comics besides JRO's to know this! Tailgate and Cyclonus were from Nova Prime's time and the whole "yeah during those times we liked going out on a fun journey to kill organics for fun hahaha" is brought up at least a couple times in the series.
#squiggposting#meta#but yeah it's easy to forget that idw cybertronians were the ones colonizing organics first#when the bulk of organic species presence in JRO's works is showing them as like absolute racist scum or as poor woobies in need of rescuin#and with regards to m/gatron apologists it actually pisses me off a lot because i KNOW most of them only read m/tmte and ll#and that's why they have Those Takes (derogatory)#and like ppl try to claim that M is unfairly framed as the villain and the colonialism 'makes no sense' (how?????)#but like if they read series besides JRO's they would see that basically M is only carrying on a colonialist legacy#that has pervaded all of cybertronian history. which imo is much more compelling and more accurate to real life than just#'M is racist against organics because they were racist to him/cybertron first. he's just retaliating!'#because like. when you look at real life history you see plenty of activists who revolutionized society and human rights and stuff#but in other aspects they were like fucking racist or sexist or transphobic or whatever#to me M makes much more sense and is more compelling as a tragically flawed former activist/pacifist#when you look at his anti functionism in contrast to his anti organic and colonialist actions#what you see there is a person who correctly argued in favor of the rights of his own species but failed to apply that logic to other speci#it's not uncommon for certain activists IRL to argue for the rights of one group of oppressed ppl but stomp on the rights of others because#they don't acknowledge the shared struggles or the shared roots of oppression between both#that's literally what M is doing. but if you take the stupid route of going 'oh M may be racist but organics were racist too'#that's just. that's not only boring but it makes for a less compelling narrative in a continuity full of political discussions and themes#and also i hate how many M fans just refuse to acknowledge the whole colonialism thing. it's not a matter of you have to feel bad for likin#him but it's a matter of. you can't just brush off M's crimes and get mad at other ppl for pointing out he did bad things#and also sometimes M stans' efforts to justify his crimes just end up having really unfortunate implications sometimes#like that one person who tried claiming that M's colonialism was just him making hard decisions to ensure the survival of his species#which is very mmmm uhhhh ahhhhhhh not a good argument to put it lightly#point is. some ppl wanna talk politics in TF so bad but aren't willing to talk ALL OF THE POLITICS#or like they wanna talk politics in TF without even reading the rest of the series#if your analysis of a story is based on incomplete evidence not having read most of the series and only cherrypicking from 2 series#your arguments are not logically compelling nor properly informed and i can rip them apart as such#there are too many takes in this fucking fandom made by ppl who haven't read most of idw or even read PART OF IT with attention to detail#just. i hate it when popular takes are made by ppl who only read a pinch of the story and make sweeping generaliations
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reel-fear · 2 years ago
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Talking abt how what BA did to Wasp is unforgivable but then saying u like Sentinel đŸš©đŸš©đŸš©đŸš©đŸš©
#ramblez#NO I'M NOT GONNA SHUT UP ABT THIS#in general I haven't had a lot of energy to talk so y'know U guys just have to put up with whatever I wanna say rn#bc I don't have the energy to conjure up more than rage rn-#how do people find Wasp at all compelling or tragic at all like did I miss an episode??#Wasp has two traits and it's cowardly and Mean#that was enough to warrant a ton of babyfying him but BA has actually complex emotions problems and interesting trauma and y'all hate it#like I see it and I gotta tell y'all it's not subtle at all#honestly I really hate how misused the word is nowadays as just When directors objectify women bc the tfa fandom has the Most male gaze#to ever male gaze#to quickly explain no the male gaze is not when men make.women look hot in a movie#it is when male characters are treated as nuanced people with emotions and reasons behind their emotions#and women are treated as unknowable objects with Nothing more going on in their lives or brains#a great example is the walking dead S2 and onward#y do the women do the things they do? well often just to create drama in the story and it's never given reason or speculation in the story#but the men get to have grand talks and speeches explaining why they do everything they do#this can also go thw opposite way sometimes like narratives that depict toxic masculinity as genetic or normal with no underlying cause#meanwhile going deep into the women characters abt their emotions or otherwise tho either way it's usually Very sexist#but anyways yeah the tfa fandom has that going on SO HARD#like heres Wasp and Sentinel canonically their reasons for being assholes is simple they r massive self centered jerks#but the fandom speculates on that crafts backstory and complexities for them and talks about why they do the things they do#meanwhile ESPECIALLY in relation to the waspinator thing ppl don't do that with BA#She intended to cure wasp bc she was desperate to cure herself#she has nearly gotten herself killed on multiple occasions out of self loathing and trying to atleast in her mind fix herself#wasp was a last resort after multiple multiple tries nearly resulted in her death#year and YEARS of being tormented by the fact she can't go home the ppl around her including the cons r all disgusted with her#AND that Sentinel and Optimus ultimately failed to protect her despite putting her trust in them to do so#not the mention sentinels whole Omg ur scars r so ugly u should've died moment#u will never convince me Wasp is worth a damn or his problems matter when he's sitting next to someone who never did anything to deserve#the horrible fate she got
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infizero · 2 years ago
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oh im gonna throw up all over myself HOW DO I ALWAYS FORGET EVERY TIME THAT FRIDAY = LIMITED LIFE
#AND ITS THE FINALEEEEEE FUCKKKKKK (EXPLODES)#i cant fucking take it. im not ready. FUCKKKKKK im not ready#OK OK BEFORE IT HAPPENS#SCAR WOULD BE AWESOME BUT HES GOT SO LITTLE TIME HES PROLLY NOT GONNA WIN :(#UMMMM ROOTING FOR EITHER MARTYN OR BIG B EITHER WOULD BE SICK#(any of them would be sick obvs but yknow)#if the winner is a previous winner that'll certainly be interesting bcuz. well that'll be the first time that's happened#if you count double life as just being pearl's win and not a joint win with scott#even tho i havent been watching martyn's pov i kinda rllyyyy want him to win hes had super interesting stuff going on with his loyalty to#scott and everything.... he'd be sick as a winner#i love big b dearly but. i dont know. i like when the winners were like rlly present and memorable that season#and this season big b and pearl both kind of hung back and just kind of watched from the shadows the whole time#which is awesome and that could be made interesting in the context of one of them being the winner too#but yah idk martyn feels a lot more compelling this season ig? again it'd be cool either way but i think it'd be cool if he won#anyways IM GONNA LOSE MY MIND TOMORROW ^_^#whatever happens. i can rest assured it will bring me more peace than watching the end of double life last summer#dawg watching grian die to the warden and just sitting there watching his little credits i was like numb ToT I WAS WANTING HIM AND SCAR TO#MAKE UP SOOOOOO BAD SO WHEN IT JUST ENDED WITH NONEEEEE OF THEIR ISSUES BEING RESOLVED I WAS JUST LIKE. WELL#guess i'll go walk into the ocean now#no matter what happens i am confident i will feel more fulfilled since i am more conscious of. all of this#dont go in expecting things to have a nice little conclusion LOL. sometimes that happens but a lot of times it does not#serena.txt
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selvnite · 2 years ago
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Really hoping “the Mandalorian can be anyone” isn’t a way for them to write off Din Djarin as a character because writers/directors/D*sney can’t decide/agree on a coherent story (for him or Mandalore tbh) or compelling character development especially when the show is built on his character (and Grogu) and in subtitles he is still refered to as ‘THE MANDALORIAN’ and known by other characters through that moniker or ‘Mando’ like what???
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steviesbicrisis · 1 year ago
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Thinking about YouTuber Steve who’s gaining a lot of popularity with his weekly vlogs. The routine is very similar: he goes to work, hangs out with friends, acts silly for the camera, cooks for his roommate, watches movies with his roommate, goes out with his roommate.
His roommate is there a lot.
His new growing fanbase doesn’t take long to divide into factions regarding Steve’s dating life and sexuality; There are ships, OTPs, people who want him single so they can date him, and a surprisingly small portion which questions his heterosexuality, which gets always shut up by the following compelling arguments:
“stop assuming he’s gay.”
“Steve doesn’t look gay. He’s just a guy, a former jock, who loves to cook and hangs out with friends. A friend more than the others, but it’s his roommate so it makes sense, right?”
“And yes, they do cuddle while watching movies, but who doesn’t love a cuddle? You don’t have to be gay for that.”
“Sure, they hold hands when they go out but the city is crowded and they might lose each other.”
“Since when two male friends can’t be close without assuming that they’re gay?”
“Have you ever seen them kiss in ten minutes of weekly vlog? No, so drop your gay agenda already.”
And Steve Harrington, who started the whole vlog thing in the first place because he wanted to update his friends who live miles away and still doesn’t know how he got this much heteronormative bullcrap in his comments, has had enough.
One day, Steve Just-A-Guy Harrington, wakes up and chooses violence.
He replies to a tiktok comment that says “stop assuming he’s gay” with another video.
It begins with Steve glaring at the camera “oh yes please, stop assuming I’m gay.”
Then there’s a quick motion and Steve is pulling a curly haired guy into frame: Eddie, his roommate/platonic friend/totally not his boyfriend of 5+ years.
Eddie yawns, looking sleepily at the camera “are you vlogging?”
“I’m proving a point” Steve replies, then kisses him. They almost get lost into it, but Steve is a man on a mission, so he pulls back and turns to the camera.
“This is Eddie, my boyfriend. Not a friend who’s a boy, you delusional homophobes, we are together, a couple, in a relationship. We haven’t been just friends for over 5 years. We live together, he isn’t just a roommate.
And even if he was just my roommate, do you think I would live with this” he squeezes Eddie’s cheeks between his fingers and zooms in to show his face up close. Eddie blinks a couple of times, but let’s Steve do whatever he wants.
“Do you seriously think that I would live with this 24/7 and stay straight? Like, are you insane?” He gives Eddie a quick smack on the lips, leaving him blushing and more confused than ever.
Usually, it’s Eddie the one getting almost feral over Steve, not the other way around.
He doesn’t complain.
“So yeah, stop assuming I’m gay. Because I’m bi, you homophobic little shits.”
The video ends with Eddie pulling Steve for more than a quick peck on the lips, and Steve throwing the phone on their couch, face down.
Somehow, under Steve’s video, there’s still someone that comments “I mean, this doesn’t mean anything. It’s just bros helping bros, right?”
Steve is too busy making out with his “bro” to read it.
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awkward-walking-potato · 3 months ago
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heard you were looking for some ideas for Logan! What about Logan with a significant other that’s basically an oujia board? Like they can talk to dead people, maybe possess people or haunt their dreams? How did they meet Logan, and how did they end up with him, and most importantly what does wade think of their relationship?
I am sorry this one is Longgg
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Between Two Worlds
The Encounter
The bar was dimly lit, the low hum of conversations mixing with the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Logan sat at the far end, nursing a whiskey, his gaze distant. He had just finished a mission, and all he wanted was some peace—a rare commodity in his life. The last thing he expected was to meet someone who would change everything.
But then you walked in.
You weren’t like anyone else in the bar. You moved with a calmness that seemed out of place in a place like this, your presence both ethereal and unsettling. Logan noticed the way people gave you a wide berth, as if instinctively sensing something otherworldly about you. You weren’t particularly intimidating, but there was an air of mystery surrounding you—a vibe that made people uncomfortable. But not Logan. He was more intrigued than anything.
You sat down at the bar, a few stools away from him, and ordered a drink. The bartender handed you a glass of something dark, but your eyes weren’t on the drink; they were on Logan.
“You’ve got a lot of ghosts around you,” you said, your voice soft, almost like a whisper.
Logan stiffened slightly. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But I know you.”
He eyed you warily, sizing you up. “And how’s that?”
You took a sip of your drink, your gaze never leaving his. “I can see them—hear them. The dead. And you, Logan, have a lot of them following you.”
Logan’s grip on his glass tightened, but he didn’t move. He’d seen and heard a lot of strange things in his life, and he wasn’t easily shaken. “You got a name?”
“Y/N,” you said, extending your hand.
He hesitated, then took it. The moment your hands touched, a strange sensation washed over him. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant either—like a cold breeze brushing against his soul. He let go quickly, his eyes narrowing. “What are you?”
You smiled again, but this time it was a little sad. “I’m just someone who can talk to the dead. Sometimes they talk through me, sometimes they use me to do things, but mostly, they just want to be heard.”
Logan took another drink, considering your words. “Sounds like a rough gig.”
“It can be,” you admitted. “But it’s my life. I help them find peace—or vengeance, depending on what they need.”
He respected that. There was something undeniably compelling about you, something that pulled him in despite the warning bells going off in his head. Maybe it was the loneliness he sensed in you, a loneliness that mirrored his own. Whatever it was, Logan couldn’t help but feel a connection to you.
You spent the rest of the evening talking. There was an easy understanding between you, a mutual respect for the darkness in each other’s lives. When the night was over, Logan offered to walk you home, and you accepted. He didn’t know it at the time, but that was the beginning of something neither of you could have predicted.
Weeks turned into months, and what started as a strange, tentative friendship quickly grew into something more. Logan found himself drawn to you in ways he couldn’t explain. You were an enigma, someone who lived between worlds, yet grounded enough to keep him from losing himself in his own darkness.
You moved into Logan’s cabin, a secluded place where you both could escape the chaos of the world. It wasn’t exactly peaceful—Logan’s past and your connection to the dead made sure of that—but it was home.
One night, as you lay in bed together, you stirred awake. Logan could feel it—the change in the air, the subtle shift in your body temperature. He opened his eyes to see you sitting up, staring at something in the corner of the room.
“Who is it this time?” Logan asked, his voice rough with sleep.
“There’s a woman here,” you said, your voice distant. “She’s
angry. Betrayed. She was killed by someone she trusted.”
Logan sighed, sitting up beside you. He was used to this by now. “What does she want?”
You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the sadness and fury of the spirit inside you. “Vengeance. She wants him to suffer like she did.”
Logan could see the strain this was putting on you. “You don’t have to do this tonight. You can tell her to wait.”
You shook your head. “She won’t wait. This is her only chance.”
Without another word, you got out of bed and began to dress, your movements slow and deliberate. Logan knew better than to try and stop you. He’d seen what happened when you resisted the spirits—it wasn’t pretty.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, pulling on his jeans and boots.
You nodded, grateful for his support. Logan’s presence had a way of grounding you, of keeping you tethered to the living world when the dead threatened to pull you under.
As you both headed out into the night, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different this time. The spirit inside you was more powerful than the others, more determined. He could feel it in the air, a malevolence that made his skin crawl.
The spirit led you to an old, run-down house on the outskirts of town. Logan followed closely behind, his senses on high alert. You walked up to the front door and knocked, your hand trembling slightly.
The door opened, revealing a man in his late forties, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Who the hell are you?”
“She knows what you did,” you said, your voice filled with the rage of the spirit within you. “And she’s here to make you pay.”
Logan watched as the man’s face paled, his eyes widening in fear. “No
 It can’t be
”
Before Logan could react, you lunged forward, your hand wrapping around the man’s throat. The spirit’s fury flowed through you, making you stronger than you should have been, your grip like iron.
Logan moved quickly, pulling you back before you could do any real damage. “That’s enough, Y/N!”
The man collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, while you struggled against Logan’s hold, the spirit’s anger overwhelming you.
“He deserves to die!” you screamed, your voice no longer your own.
Logan held you tightly, his voice firm but gentle. “This isn’t you, Y/N. You’re stronger than this. Don’t let her control you.”
For a moment, it seemed like the spirit would win, that it would consume you completely. But then, with a shuddering breath, you managed to regain control, the spirit’s presence slowly fading as you collapsed against Logan, exhausted.
The man on the floor was sobbing, babbling apologies that fell on deaf ears. Logan looked down at him with disgust. “Get out of town. If I see you again, you won’t be so lucky.”
The man scrambled to his feet and ran, disappearing into the night.
Logan turned his attention back to you, his hand gently cupping your face. “You okay?”
You nodded weakly, leaning into his touch. “Yeah
 I’m okay.”
He sighed in relief, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you home.”
Life with you was never boring, and Logan wouldn’t have had it any other way. But when Wade found out about your abilities, things got a little more
interesting.
“Hold up,” Wade said, leaning back in his chair, Mary Puppins perched on his lap. “You’re telling me your significant other is basically a walking, talking Ouija board?”
Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”
Wade’s eyes lit up with mischief. “That is so badass! Do you do parties? Can you, like, summon Elvis or something? Wait, don’t answer that—I have a list of people I want to talk to, starting with—”
“Wade,” Logan growled, cutting him off. “It’s not a party trick.”
Wade pouted. “You’re no fun. But seriously, that’s gotta be weird, right? I mean, what happens if they get mad? Do you end up like one of those possessed dolls from horror movies?”
You chuckled, leaning against Logan. “It’s not quite that dramatic, but it can get intense. I try to keep them under control.”
“Still, sounds like a hell of a time,” Wade said, clearly fascinated. “You ever, uh, use your abilities on Logan here? Like, freak him out in the middle of the night?”
You smiled mischievously, glancing at Logan. “Maybe once or twice.”
Logan shot you a look but didn’t say anything. Wade burst out laughing. “Oh man, I wish I could’ve seen that! Logan, scared out of his mind—priceless!”
Logan rolled his eyes, pulling you closer. “I wasn’t scared.”
“Sure, sure,” Wade said, waving his hand dismissively. “But for real, you two are like the weirdest couple I’ve ever seen. And coming from me, that’s saying something. But you know what? I think it works. You balance each other out. Plus, if anyone ever pisses you off, you can just send them a nice little nightmare. That’s a win in my book.”
You and Logan exchanged a glance, both of you smiling. Wade might be a pain, but he wasn’t wrong.
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txttletale · 5 months ago
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what are some things you like about fnv?
so much! i like the character writing, i think every companion is well-written and compelling--i like the extremely tight and overarching but (mostly) unforced focus on theme. 'let go, begin again' gets said verbatim maybe a bit too much in dead money but it's also the theme of all the other DLC and every individual companion quest and the most popular of the four main story paths and i think that kind of broad coherence really shines. i love the quest and world design, i love how many different skills will pop up in conversation because it lets you genuinely roleplay, getting the option to e.g. tell dog the cage must be locked from the inside or bypass difficult combat encounters because you have a high lockpicking skill makes you feel like your character is an expert lockpicker in a way that just being able to get optional loot sometimes just doesn't--i love how you will be directed to important or interesting locations from multiple quests, how all these places interconnect.
and i also deeply love how fnv's world is a world of history and people, not of facts and lore. you can kill caesar and kimball and their factions don't just explode without them--and you will hear multiple, contradictory takes from people in the world about how those deaths will impact those factions. if you kill caesar, house says it won't matter at all, boone says he has successors, ulysses and some NCR guys say it'll collapse the legion, and you never really get to know for sure. and so much about the world is like this, stuff you can get endless perspectives on and no single authoritative 'neutral' information. and in that line i love how the world is more than those people! how the world is much more than you., as impactful as the courier can be, the world reacting and moving and changing is prioritized over absolute player freedom to Experience Content--i love that, for instance, if you're vilified by the NCR before House gives you the quest to protect kimball, he just says "they're not going to let you get close to them, we'll just have to let him die" and then you can't do that quest and kimball dies! little shit like that makes new vegas' world feel real instead of warping around wikis and lore bibles and the protagonist.
so yeah i like a lot about fnv! i am a bit more vocal about my criticisms just bc quite frankly i think all of the things i like are things most people like and i see people saying basically all of this every time the game is brought up while i don't see people talk about the stuff i think is weird/bad as much. and i'm naturally inclinced to like, say whatever i think my more original trhoughts are so i'm not just adding to a chorus. but i do love fnv a lot
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blindmagdalena · 5 months ago
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Do you think Homelander would inject V into a non-sup SO?
A part of me says absolutely, but another disputes this as I don't think Homelander would be willing to risk purposely potentially killing them.
At least if he loves them/the reader đŸ„Ž.
this is really situational to me. Homelander wouldn't feel compelled to risk it for no reason because there's a lot of weird fuckery V can do. he's seen firsthand the successes and—more importantly—the horrific failures of compound V injected in adults.
some powers are just... objectively useless. some cause deformities. some supes are just as frail as regular humans. some people just spasm, break all their bones and explode. V doesn't really guarantee anything spectacular, and whatever it does accomplish, they're still not going to measure up to someone like him.
that said, if they were maimed, sick, or put in some kind of terrible peril, and he came to the conclusion that V would "fix" them (and by extension, him) then... yeah, absolutely he would.
of course he wouldn't want to hurt/kill them, but he's also delusional. he really could convince himself that it'll be okay because he loves them, and because they love him.
"I know you won't leave me," he'd tell them before he did it, smiling tightly, heart racing. "You'll be okay. You stay with me, okay? Just stay with me. You promised you'd stay with me."
just rambling more to himself than anything as he pushes on the end of the syringe. hell, for the first time in a real long time, he might even pray.
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britney-j-christ · 22 days ago
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Oh man, Curly really had no good options, huh?
I see a lot of people jumping to "Curly should have shot Jimmy", which is fine to say because he still should get to shoot Jimmy, but not a compelling argument.
Unless this is even more dystopian of a universe than it seems (Ala the villain being capitalism, not The State Shooting You Without Trial In Space style) there's no legal grounds to do that. That's vigilante justice and while it would solve a part of the Safety Concern Jimmy causes, it leads to too many problems on earth.
Also, you cannot just casually shoot a coworker or 1/5th of the locals. Daisuke and Swansea would have *very reasonable concerns* if their captain just shot someone, even if it was explained. And I don't think either would be down to do a cover up about it. And if they did...
Daisuke would Crack in seconds under interrogation or scrutiny.
We're also talking about Captain Curly pre, uh... "character developement" as it were, being able to see Jimmy's abusive nature first hand now that he's under his control. There's a pattern for trying very, very hard to see the good in Jimmy and enabling him. He'd never be in this position as copilot if Curly hadn't been there, trying to pull Jimmy out of whatever trouble he was at back on Earth. Curly is a big picture guy who doesn't see the dead pixel; he sees Jimmy climbing up and out of the muck with him and he ignores the red flags or, possibly, even prior offenses?
Captain Curly can be seen *trying* to be a good Captain, not unlike the way Jimmy as Captain is also "trying" to be a good Captain(for selfish ego driven and guilt-avoidant reasons). It really is a goal they share. Both of them fail at it, but it is both their motivations in those roles. Even stressed and overworked, jumping to killing his best friend three months into a year long voyage isn't rational.
So how about we downgrade to more reasonable option; jailing. Except the places where one can be locked in are the hold full of valuable unknown cargo, so a non option if they want to get paid (they desperately do), and the medical bay, which is much more viable if they could a) get that set up in a way that didn't jeprodise the health of everyone and b) didn't have a huge human sized vent that might kill you if you go through it. I understand why neither were chosen.
So, how about the cryopods? Seems pretty viable. Much like murdering Jimmy, you'd have to get everyone on board for this. So, confronting Anya's rapist in front of Daisuke and Swansea and hope they can sway them both in favor of Lawful Detainment.
It's not impossible. I think, if they tried, it would have worked in terms of grouping up together- if they could do it without Jimmy getting wind of it and doing something drastic beforehand.
But then there's no copilot. This is such a major issue for an eight month voyage where we see that the ship will see a problem approximately like 2-3 minutes before it happens and requires corrections. Curly cannot do this job for that long. No one else is appropriately trained. Swansea is busy, Daisuke is not reliable enough to handle this, and Anya... could probably do it tbh I have complete faith in her but that's a lot to put on her shoulders to not get paid appropriately for, just for her to be *safe* from Jimmy.
I struggle to blame Curly for the choice he did go with. I don't see any good options, especially without knowing what's going to happen. It's already a huge jump to go from Best Friend to Rapist; expecting Jimmy to go down to Murderer is a big leap. It seems like he thought he had eight months to work with Anya, to figure out what to do. "Talking with Jimmy" could have been anything from Boys Club protection racketing to clinical setting of boundaries for likely the first time in their relationship to a full on confrontation. We don't know. We only get to see the death spiral that came out of it after.
It's pretty clear that Curly failed as a captain to protect everyone, but the scenario was hopeless to begin with. The choices he made before they got on the ship doomed them: trusting and supporting Jimmy was the mistake and it happened well before they got on the freighter.
And in every single scenario, I find it leads back to Pony Express being the ones at fault. Every bit of the ship they are trapped in exists to funnel more money into a dying beast of a company at the crews expense. I think Curly and maybe Anya both thought they had 8 months to figure out what would happen off the boat. A looming unavoidable threat of consequences. Everything to do with getting the company involved would likely drive Anya and or Curly broke; they say straight up they fine the crew for problems arising. That it's flat out the captains duty to handle it and then get charged by the company $$$ about it. They will double the amount of responsibility back onto the Captain and crew. Imagine working a year in isolated space and getting NOTHING for it? Imagine slashing thenrest of the crews wages.
Curly wasn't able to predict what Jimmy would have done. I think his plan was to handle things Off Board. Too late in multiple ways, but I do think he would have genuinely back up Anya in however they go forwards once they've landed.
The option he chose didn't deal with the real problem though. It feels like he tried to problem solve to deal with the consequences and not the issue at hand; the safety of Anya, his crewmember. It's how he failed as a captain.
I'm proud of him rushing headlong unto danger to try and save them all. God. What a vicious cruelty to deny Curly the one thing he does deserve credit for.
Anyways I'm redressing him like a mummy so he's nice and cozy for his 20 year sleep. Poor guy tried to intervene, badly, into something that needed to be prevented instead by the company and by foresight he didn't have about a dangerous, narcissistic best friend. Doomed from the beginning because of your character flaws and unwinnable scenarios. You're such a good little horror character; if feel like he's a good parable about putting safety first. Thanks for your follies bro I hope it has impacted my personal decision making for the better so I don't become you if I'm in your position.
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kiwanopie · 2 years ago
Note
aki threatening to make us housewives


. the way i physically gasped 😭. he’s the worst—one year as your senpai and he’s already decided you’re his.
it’s so vile too bc you want it, want him more than anything. want aki to cream your cute pussy ‘til you’re bloated. wanna hold up chunky lil babies that giggle and pull at their daddy’s topknot :((
the way i immediately opened my docs this ask sent my brain into overdrive
Glutton.
cw: car sex. breeding. dumbification. overstimulation. choking (aki wraps his hand around your neck) creampie. 1.1k
You already know he’ll name it after his little brother.
Or his mom. Whatever her name was? You’ve been chalking up ideas since he put it in your head and now it feels like you can’t remember a thing. Just your hope that if it’s a boy it’ll look like him and if it’s a girl - for her sake - she won’t have her mother’s tendency to misbehave.
You’re nothing if not a glutton for punishment.
You know, you’ve always assumed that Aki was a smart guy. I mean he’s team leader for a reason? He’s level headed in most cases, stalwart when it counts, a little demented but conscious of the things he does, and stubborn. He’d walk on a plate of fire just to prove a point - but it’s not a bad thing to stay true to your own ideals. This is a guy who keeps his promises. Every single one of them.
He’s too ticked off to put two and two together. “It’s like you like pissing me off.”
Aki’s heated breaths burn sear marks into the crook of your throat, just over the open wing of your collar and love notes left by his lips from earlier. Your brain’s too mushy to do anything but pant into the air, blowing thicker tufts of condensation that have already turned his car windows misty.
He’s fucking you like he means to turn your guts around, pistoning into your poor overstimmed cunt like it’s all he’s meant to do. Not even faltering when the acrylics of your nails tear shallow gashes into his button up - If you had the half of mind, you could even say he enjoys it.
Feeling you cling to him so desperately as he grunts in the crook of your shoulder, tighten when he curses at you. Maybe he’s too blissed out. Maybe he’s not as smart as you took him for. But you seem to be taking the repercussions of your misbehavior in stride.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Aki hisses in your ear. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve going over my head after what I told you.”
You croon when he lifts one of your legs and fastens it over his arm to get you at a better angle - a deeper angle. God, his seats are probably ruined.
You already knew you were in trouble when he offered to drive you home. You knew the look in his eyes, and you knew Makima was obviously gonna tell the guy overseeing you that you requested clearance to be contracted with a new devil, especially one so substantial. You even pulled the extra stop of shoeing in a compelling argument. ‘The life of a hunter is short anyway. Why not make it mean something?’
Like getting knocked up by your boss in the back of his Lincoln. “P-
Please forgive me, senpai! I’m- fuck, m’so sorry-“
“You might as well get used to calling me by my first name.” He grunts. “It’d be pretty fucking confusing when we start sharing my last.”
Aki lets out a broken curse when you tighten up again. “God, I can’t believe you. Were you even gonna tell me? Was I just supposed to find out when you
”
He doesn’t even finish the thought. Instead he blows out a puff of air against your pulse that makes you shutter. Lifts his head to look at you more directly and stares at you for a moment. There’s a lot of emotions behind his eyes that you’re not exactly cognizant to decipher. A way the tendons in his jaw tense - that seems less angry and more ‘something else entirely.’ But before you can zero your misty eyes on what exactly that could be, he’s already pressing his lips against yours.
A slow kiss. Not messy and unrestrained like earlier but savory. Sensuous lip smacking all the more sultry when he tilts his head to follow the current of the kiss. His loose hair falls freely over your face, lax from all the tugging you’ve been doing since he started turning your insides to bisque. But a kiss like this is the kind you give when it means something. Goosebump and butterfly inducing - You moan in his mouth and he swallows it heartily.
And then he deepens it.
That earnest passionance becomes lustful and raunchy before you can even realize he’s sucking on your tongue. Deepening his thrusts until you’re feeling him in your stomach and groaning down your throat when your fingers start to dig into his scalp. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Aki was hoping for this kind of outcome just as much as you were. Especially when he starts to angle his thrusts for the spot that has you gushing around him like he likes.
The kiss leaves a gossamer trail of his spit when he pulls back for another look at you. Your pretty doe eyes have gone teary.
“Don’t even worry about your resignation, I fired you as soon as I found out.” Aki grunts. “We’ll figure out the living arrangements later.”
Your eyes roll back when he settles for a firm grip on your throat. “I’ll have to get a bigger car. Oh fuck - And a car seat.”
You babble something that sounds like a cross between “So good!” and “I’m cumming!” but it’s more a jumbled mess of moans and overstimulated whimpers. He’s stopped counting the amount of times your pretty pussy has gone into the process of milking him for all he’s got. But even as he follows you over the edge does he continue to fuck you brainless.
Aki peers down at the mess you’re making on his leather seats. “S-Shit. Quit wasting it. I’m not stopping till I know it’ll take.”
“S’good, senpai! A-Aki-senpai! So good! It’s s’good!”
He pulls your other leg up till you're folded in a mating press, groaning at the difference in angle. “You know - mhph - You’re even cuter when you’re all fucked out like this.”
His dick twitches at the way you start to drool. “Gonna be my pretty wife? Gimme some pretty babies?”
“Sso pretty
!” You slur. “G’nna make you a daddy!”
He gives you a blitzed smile that definitely says he’s as far gone as you are. “Yeah?”
Your mouth gapes as he bends over you, much too deep with your legs hooked over his shoulders and pressing his hips flat against your ass to grind in as thoroughly as possible.
“So stupid
” Aki skims his lips over yours. “You’re stupid if you think I’m done with you after that.”
He hums as he brings you into another kiss, briefly pulling away to murmur drunkenly. “Gimme a pretty family, baby.”
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1 reblog = several Hayakawa babies
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guess-my-next-obsession · 6 months ago
Text
Guilty as Sin? - Chapter Two
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pairing: professor!javier peña x f!reader
rating: series is 18+ only, minors DNI, lots of yearning, derrick disappoints us, javier flirts...kinda, law school stuff that i'm researching as i go so bare with me actual lawyers and law students, mentions of a crime/DV (used as an example), reader wears skirts (for the sake of future smut)
word count: 3.8k
series masterlist
After a long night of imagining Dr. Peña’s stern eyes peering into yours from between your thighs, it was time to face him yet again. With his Criminal Law class Monday through Wednesday, and his Intro to Forensics lab Wednesday through Friday, it seemed you’d have to learn to get used to his dizzying effect on you or else you’d never get a full night of sleep. It didn’t help that both Nina and Alondra had guests over last night, their explicit noises forcing you into sleeping with headphones on. 
Ears aching and eyes tired, you carried on with your day as usual. New lectures in Advanced Forensics and Criminal Profiling in the morning, and Dr. Peña’s class in the afternoon. Derrick followed you around in between classes, eager to prove himself to you by buying your latte and carrying your bag—even when you insisted you were fully capable of doing both on your own. 
You weren’t sure what had gotten into him over the summer while he was away with his family in the Hamptons—a luxury you could only imagine as you spent your summer working as an underpaid secretary for a law firm. Perhaps it had to do with his older brother’s engagement and recent promotion to an attending physician that compelled him to be so pushy when it came to you. Unfortunately for him, you had no interest in getting married this young, not when you still had so much to prove. 
“Hopefully there’s a seat in the back today,” he said, opening the door to the lecture hall for you. While he may have a good reason for not wanting to be the center of Dr. Peña’s attention again, there was a decent sized part of you that adored his attention—even if it meant a scolding. Maybe especially if it meant that. 
“Yeah,” you lied, swallowing down your nerves as you stepped into a much more crowded room than yesterday. You scanned the room, now full of hopeful women and men who must have heard about Dr. Peña’s looks and transferred out of their old classes to get a glimpse of the man. Only five seats remained, four of them scattered around the auditorium and one in the front row. 
“Shit,” Derrick swore, scanning the room. “Guess we have to split up.”
You fought away the smirk threatening to spread across your face and frowned. “Sucks. Well, I’m gonna be in the front.”
“So he can pick on you?” Derrick asked, raising a brow. “There’s a seat near the back, take that one.”
“I’m fine,” you assured, giving him a glare to admonish whatever control he thought he had over what you chose to do. He scoffed, watching you as you made your way down the steps of the hall to the front row where you found a seat beside a girl you were friendly with during undergrad, Mayte. “Is this seat open?”
“Yeah,” she chirped with a smile, moving her bag from the seat to let you sit down. “Crazy how full this class is. I don’t feel like it was this packed yesterday.”
“It wasn’t,” you chuckled, unpacking your notebook and pen. 
Striding in in a red button down and almost skin tight black slacks that you couldn’t help but notice bulged out at the zipper, the reason for all the new transfers became clear. The hush that fell over the room was telling, a silence that filled you with so much jealousy you thought you might be sick. 
“Afternoon,” he greeted, setting his back down in his chair. After pulling out a stack of papers, he gave the room a quick once over, his shock written in the lift of his brows. “Full house today.”
The room filled with flirty laughter, your eyes rolling in response. Heading over to Mayte who sat at the start of the row, Dr. Peña handed her the stack of papers, his eyes flickering towards yours as he spoke, “Take one, pass it down.”
You looked away, the window now seeming far more interesting than it had a second ago. 
“Today’s lecture will be on the fundamental elements of crime,” he said, reaching his podium. Hearing your name called, you shrank a bit in your seat. Still, that thrill of earning his attention raced through your veins, daring you to meet his eyes. “Can you tell the class what these elements are?” 
You nodded, flipping to the page in your notebook you’d filled out the night before while studying. “The fundamental elements of a crime are actus reus, mens rea, and causation.” 
The corner of his mouth tilted upwards as he gave you a nod, his eyes hesitantly shifting from yours to the row behind you. “Mr. Velasquez, define actus reus for me.”
“Actus reus refers to the act of committing a crime, either knowingly or unknowingly,” he said. 
“Very good,” Dr. Peña commended. “Simply put, actus reus—which is Latin for guilty act—refers to the ‘what’ in a crime. These criminal actions must be considered voluntary and done during a lucid state to constitute a crime. For example, a sober man comes home from a hard day at work and assaults his wife. This act was done both in a conscious state and by his own volition. Now, if the wife were to be in a state of survival and had no other choice than to respond to the assault with an extreme measure, this is an entirely different story and does not meet the qualifications for actus reus.” 
“Murder is murder, isn’t it?” Derrick asked from somewhere in the middle row, causing you to roll your eyes. Did he really not understand the difference between murder and self defense this far into the law program?
“Murder is murder, and survival is survival, Mr. Crawley,” Dr. Peña explained, crossing his arms over his shoulders. “Do you disagree with this logic?”
“Sort of, yeah,” he said, matching Dr. Peña’s arrogance without possessing any of the charm. “There are ways to defend yourself without killing someone?”
“Do you think these victims have the time to strategize when they have a gun pressed to their temple? If there’s a blade to their throat?” he challenged. “They do what they have to do to survive. It’s not our place as lawyers to judge them, it’s our job to uphold the law.”
“Laws that are written with double standards,” Derrick scoffed, earning a shush that sounded an awful lot like Nina. 
“Perhaps if you make it to the end of the program you can change things,” Dr. Peña smirked, glancing at you before turning back to your friend who was looking an awful lot like a stranger these days. “But I’m not so certain that’ll be the case for you, Mr. Crawley.”
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After the scene that was class, you met up with Alondra at the library, both of you determined to avoid the noise that came along with Derrick having his male friends over at the apartment. Beyond the obnoxious volume they all spoke at, you hated the way they watched you, whispering amongst themselves about how jealous they were that Derrick got to live with three beautiful girls—nevermind the fact that none of you wanted anything to do with him in that sense. 
“What are you doing your paper on for Arman’s class?” Alondra asked as she typed on her laptop. 
“Not sure yet,” you said, taking a bite out of the banana you’d hoped would fuel you until dinner. “Maybe capital punishment.”
“That’s good,” she commended. “I was thinking of analyzing the process of trying someone with psychological disorders.”
“Still interested in criminal psych?” 
“Yeah,” she smiled. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve done the psychology route instead, but there was no way I was going to convince my parents to fund that.”
“Why not?” you frowned. 
“They don’t think mental illness is a real thing, which is funny considering they both exhibit traits of bipolar disorder and narcissism,” she laughed, hiding her trauma behind a thin veil of humor like she always did. Not that you minded it. The whole expressing your feelings thing never really came that easily to you. “Oh, shit. I forgot to tell you something.”
“Oh, no,” you winced. 
“So rumor has it that you and Derrick have a little date on Friday?” 
“Yeah,” you sighed, shaking your head. “I just want to get it over and done with so he’ll drop the whole thing. I mean, four years into being friends and I never felt a thing for him. Does he really think that changed overnight?”
“Knowing him, probably,” she chuckled. “Anyways, I heard from a very credible source—“
“Sabina,” you guessed. 
“Maybe,” she blushed. “Anyways, she told me that on the first night back, Derrick hooked up with an undergrad and caught a case of the clap.”
“Shut up,” you gasped. “Chlamydia? At his grown age?”
“I know,” she laughed. “So, just be careful if you decide to—“
“Believe me, I had no intentions of fucking him before and I sure as hell have none now,” you assured, cringing at the thought. 
“Interesting conversation for a library, isn’t it?” Dr. Peña’s warm timbre sent a chill up your spine as he stood behind your chair, Alondra’s eyes wide and cheeks flushed. 
“We were just
gossiping,” she offered, shrugging the embarrassment off. “Women, am I right?” 
“Two very bright women who’d be far better off studying,” he challenged. 
You refused to turn around, his leather and vetiver scent combined with his proximity already too much for your system of self restraint to handle. Instead, you flipped the page of your textbook in strained silence. 
“I actually was hoping to speak to you about tomorrow’s lab,” he continued, now speaking directly to you. 
“8 p.m., got it,” you said, your tone clipped with frustration at your dirty mind. 
“It was actually in reference to your
clothing,” he returned, causing Alondra to raise a brow as she pretended to resume her typing. Turning in your seat, you peered up at him with furrowed brows. 
“What about my clothing?” you inquired. 
“You seem to wear a lot of dresses and skirts,” he noted, though he looked as if it was torture to even have this conversation. “I just wanted to remind you that appropriate PPE is required for all labs, which means—“
“Pants. Understood,” you said, turning back to your book. 
“Good,” he managed, almost sounding as if he’d lost his voice with how strained his tone was. “I’ll leave the two of you to your gossiping and studying, then.”
Alondra watched as he walked past your table, his hands tucked into his pocket as if he owned the place. 
“Hot,” she whispered, biting her lip. “I’m pretty gay, but that tension
” 
“There’s no tension, he’s just a dick,” you snapped, feeling your cheeks heat as you replayed the interaction over and over in your head. 
He really paid that much attention to you? So much so that he felt compelled to remind you of lab etiquette you learned back in high school? 
The delusional part of your mind swooned while the logical part recoiled. 
“Please show up in a mini skirt,” she begged, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. Snorting at herself, she proceeded to mimic his deep voice, “I thought I told you no mini skirts.” 
“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. 
“Yes, I’ve been such a naughty girl, Professor.”
“Would you look at that. Seems like it’s time for me to get the fuck out of here,” you said, closing your book and shoving it into your bag. 
“Don’t be like that, I’m just trying to paint an image,” she teased, laughing as you hustled to get your things packed. 
“Sorry, I’ve got a date with my bed,” you snarked, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 
“How convenient,” she smirked, tapping her pen against her chin. “I give you a brand new fantasy and now you’re off to bed.”
“Someone’s moans kept me up all night so I’m exhausted,” you retorted, laughing at the way she kept staring you with that knowing look of hers. “Fuck off.”
“Love you more,” she called as you turned and walked away. 
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After another night of restless sleep and inappropriate fantasies of Dr. Peña’s hands sliding up your skirt, it was time for yet another day of this back and forth. You’d expected Derrick to keep his distance after his humiliating interaction during CrimLaw, perhaps brood about like he usually did when things didn’t go his way, but it was business as usual today. He followed you around like a lost dog, talking your ear off about his upcoming project for his mock trial in his Criminal Procedures class as you wandered off in your mind to a reality where he hadn’t changed into this hyper masculine man you didn’t recognize. 
“I’m excited,” he beamed, rubbing his hands together. “First time to prove myself in a courtroom.”
“An artificial court room,” you clarified, earning a scowl. “Hey, I have to get to Peña’s lab.”
“We’re, uh, still good for Friday, right?” he asked, catching your elbow as you moved to walk away. 
“If you want,” you shrugged, looking down at where he still gripped your arm. “I should get going.”
He nodded, letting your arm go. “I’ll see you at home.” 
After managing to ditch Derrick, you assumed your walk to Dr. Peña’s lecture hall would give you a moment of respite, but of course fate had different plans. 
You didn’t even recognize him until he was already approaching with a cocky grin and his arms held out wide. Micah, the man who’d ruined your entire undergrad experience with all of his back and forth bullshit. You fought the urge to scrunch your nose in disgust over his new mullet and pitiful mustache he likely spent all summer growing. 
“Hey,” he chimed your name, creating an absurd desire inside you to change it just so you’d never have to hear it on his lips again. You feigned confusion, as if you could ever forget those green eyes that still haunted every dream. “Shit, you don’t recognize me.” He laughed. “It’s Micah.”
“Oh. Hey.” Your greeting was as strained as your smile. 
“You’re looking good,” he praised, admiring you from top to bottom. You cringed at his appraisal, at his ignorance over the entire situation. “How’s, uh, how’s law school?”
“Fine,” you replied, clipped and cold. 
“Why’re you acting like that?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. Oh, the amount of money you’d pay for the chance to slap that arrogant smirk right off his face. “You still holding onto all that old shit?”
“Four years of emotional abuse will do that,” you replied. “Anyways, I have to be somewhere.”
“C’mon, all your friends forgave me for that shit. Why can’t you?” 
Maybe today would be the day you finally lost your shit on him and ended up in jail. Though, that would mean missing Dr. Peña’s lab and you certainly couldn’t miss out on the chance to ogle him. 
“They forgave you because they weren’t the ones you fucked over,” you explained, choosing to be mature even when it ached. “So I get to decide when I want to forgive you. Not the other way around. And just as a good rule of thumb, I don’t plan on forgiving you anytime soon.”
“So what, we just avoid each other?” he frowned, daring to act as though he was hurt. 
“That’s the goal,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Besides, won’t be long now until you flunk out since I’m not around to write your essays anymore.”
“Fucking bitch,” he hissed, signaling your cue to walk the fuck away before you did something that would end up with you in a jail cell. “And you wonder why I cheated!”
Shaking your head to clear out all the memories of nights spent sobbing on the floor or in Nina’s bed because yours reminded you of him too much, you marched off towards the lecture hall with five minutes to spare. Thankfully unlike your Criminal Law lecture, you didn’t have to worry about finding a seat given the fact that you’d be sitting at the front of class in a desk designated to the TA. 
You passed rows of undergrads whispering and laughing amongst themselves, all of them blissfully unaware of the storm heading their way. As you reached the front of the class, Dr. Peña walked in with the same frown of disapproval he wore on the first day of your lecture. 
“Evening,” he greeted, silencing the room with one simple word. He shot you a glance, doing a double take as he noticed you were still unpacking your bag and getting settled. 
“You’re late,” he scolded in a whisper as he walked over to your desk, the cinnamon on his breath invading your senses. 
“I’m five minutes early,” you challenged as you opened your notebook and jotted down the date, well aware of the sea of freshman and sophomore eyes trained on the two of you. 
“I need you here at seven-thirty,” he ordered. “I had to prep by myself.”
“I apologize,” you sighed, half due to your run in with Micah and half due to the ever present exhaustion of trying to keep your fantasies of your demanding professor at bay. “I’ll be on time tomorrow.”
“That would be appreciated,” he snarked, shaking his head as he wandered back to the center podium with a clearing of his throat. “Welcome to Intro to Forensics. I’m Dr. Peña, you’ll refer to me as such this semester—not dude, not bro, and certainly no nicknames. I’m not your friend, I’m here to teach you. Understood?”
God, he was a dick. A beautiful, wound up dick that you couldn’t stop thinking about. 
“This is your TA for the semester,” he introduced you by name, and something about the way it sounded on his lips caused your breath to hitch. “She’ll be here to help during labs as well as tutoring on her own time. If you have questions about the material or assignments, I suggest you speak with her first. You’ll find her tutoring hours on the syllabus.”
You frowned a bit as you thought about the whole tutoring part of being a professor’s assistant. Spending your weeknights at the library helping out undergrads sounded like pure torture at this point in your life, but at least the extra cash would go a long way towards covering your bills. 
“Today we’ll be covering DNA fingerprinting,” he said, pulling up a slideshow presentation. “Can anyone tell me how exactly this process works?”
A pretty freshman shot her hand up before he’d even finished speaking, curdling your stomach with jealousy you knew you had no right to feel. “Yes, Miss
?”
“You can just call me Jess,” she smiled, tucking a piece of her caramel brown hair behind her ears. 
“No. What’s your last name?” he sighed.  
“Jacobs,” she sputtered, her cheeks turning a shade of red. “DNA fingerprinting uses nucleotide sequences in DNA to determine who the fingerprints belong to.”
“Very good,” he nodded. “And what are nucleotides?”
“I
um, I don’t know,” she admitted, that sparkling smile now long gone as she stared down at her book. 
“Figured,” he chided, skipping to the next slide. “Your knowledge doesn’t mean a thing if you can’t explain it.”
Watching him talk down to a student shouldn’t have stirred you the way that it did. In fact, if he’d been any other man talking to a woman that way, you’d have detested him. But there was something about Dr. Peña that poisoned your mind in his favor, a very annoying thing you now had to add to your list of shit to sort out upstairs. 
After a relatively silent lab where the students had to match DNA samples to their rightful owner, it was nearing ten o’clock, the pitch black sky outside beckoning you to hurry the fuck up and get to bed. Of course, nature was forgetting your very demanding professor who seemed dead set on wearing you out in all the wrong ways. 
“You take half, I’ll take half,” he suggested, splitting the stack of worksheets in two and handing you your share as you sat in his private office that was adjoined to the lecture hall. “Should be finished quickly enough.”
“Is there any way I can just do these at home?” you asked, your eyelids growing heavier with each blink. 
He studied you for a beat, those brown eyes traversing every single feature, every inch from head to toe as if he was searching for something. “If you’d prefer.”
“I’m just really tired,” you admitted, suddenly feeling small under his gaze. “Don’t want to accidentally fall asleep in your office.”
“That would be inconvenient,” he chuckled, and god, what a sound. “Grade them wherever you’d like, just make sure you drop them off tomorrow morning.”
Nodding, you grabbed your bag and carefully tucked the papers inside. 
“Tomorrow morning,” you echoed.
“I look forward to it,” he smiled, a fleeting thing that disappeared the moment you turned to look at him. “Have a good night.” 
You took in a slow inhale and offered him a more lasting smile. “You too, Professor.”
“And don’t worry about the PPE tomorrow,” he added, stopping you as you moved to leave the room. Raising your brow at him, he looked entirely unphased, his eyes once again combing you over before he seemed to realize himself. “No lab, just a lecture.”
“Right,” you said, biting your lip. “I’ll be sure to wear my shortest skirt.” 
Did you really just say that? Out loud? 
Dr. Peña cracked a smile and shook his head, turning back to his desktop. “I wouldn’t want you to cause a scene.”
“I’m not sure the sight of me in a skirt is scene worthy.”
He tilted his head to the side in consideration, his eyes still locked on his screen. 
“I’d beg to differ,” he said, wearing that taunting fucking smirk as he typed. “Anyways, be safe getting home.”
“Yeah,” you chuckled—at him, at yourself, at everything. “Night, Dr. Peña.”
“Good night,” he smiled. 
And just like that, you discovered a way to taunt him the way he taunted you by just existing. 
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morganmnemonic · 9 months ago
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rewatching World Trigger. I forgot how gay it was. Osamu straight up says "hey Yuma. I know that we've only known you for like five days, but I can't help but notice that you aren't doing anything with your life right now. Mind if I borrow it for a bit?"
And then Yuma responds with "while its true that we've only know each other for like five days, your kind yet stubborn nature has compelled me. Sure. Why not? From this moment on my life is yours to do whatever you want with. One condition, though. You have to be my boss" and then throughout the story he occasionally makes these little remarks like "I'd do anything my captain (osamu) asked me to."
Like bro what? I really don't think that Osamu fully realizes the weight of the loyalty he somehow managed to earn from Yuma. I don't think he could realize it. From his perspective he cringefailed his way into b rank while Yuma did all the work. "And now Yuma would kill or die for me" is just not a conclusion that would ever occur to Osamu based on the avaliable evidence.
And like, what's going on here from Yuma's perspective? I get that he was a man on the brink when the story started, pursuing a sincerely suicidal plan, and then said plan failed and he was left with absolutely nothing, but I still feel like there has to be more going on here. He decided that he would follow Osamu through hell and back the very same minute that Osamu asked anything of him at all.
It's like, combat is all Yuma has ever known. He doesn't see any future for himself at all, but he especially can't imagine a peaceful one. But he's not a bad kid. He doesn't go out of his way to hurt people. Osamu has proven to be a pretty decent person, willing to sacrifice himself to save the lives of relative strangers. Maybe, the way Yuma sees it, yeah he's a weapon, but if he follows Osamu at least he'll be a weapon pointed in the right direction. He'll fight because it's all he knows how to do, but osamu would only ever ask him to fight for worthy causes. Y'know?
Anyway. The point is that Yuma accepted helping Osamu as his new purpose in life after knowing him for less than a week, and that's A Lot, no matter how you look at it.
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mightbeimpossiblenotto · 1 month ago
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Drunk - Oct 1 - @rosekillermicrofic - 1,118 words - Warnings: biting
(a/n- this turned out a lot longer than I had planned, and it took me two extra days, sorry!!!)
Barty loved and hated his job in equal parts. As a bartender, he got all the free booze he could get away with taking, and he always had somewhere to go at night. But he also saw and heard way too much shit from the lovely crowd that frequented his favorite dive bar.
There was a big group coming in from some sports tournament that Barty couldn’t be bothered to care about. He did appreciate the extra tips, but if he had to hear one more anecdote about the “game-winning goal,” he was going to bash his head in with one of the whiskey tumblers.
There were a pair of blonds down at the end of the bar, away from all of the hustle and bustle. One man, one woman, and Barty thought they had to be twins or at the very least siblings, for they shared the same platinum-blond hair and sharp-as-glass features. They didn’t seem to be a part of the bigger crowd, as they kept to themselves at the back of the long room, occasionally ordering a simple cocktail from Barty.
He was a little obsessed with the man, he could admit. His cheekbones cut his tan face exquisitely, and his ice-blue eyes seemed to pin Barty into place every time he caught them with his own. But even with Barty’s most obvious come-ons, the man didn’t seem to give a twitch of interest or even amusement.
When a too-drunk patron had nearly climbed over the bar to get Barty’s attention, he needed a compelling distraction, or he might actually have to kill himself on the job. He caught sight of the blond man down at the end of the bar again, and pulled out a whiskey glass to begin making a drink.
A moment later, he smoothly plucked up the finished cocktail and sauntered on over to the pair of blonds. He slid the drink in front of the man, interrupting whatever conversation the two had been having before he came over.
“Oh,” the man said, blinking down at the drink. He looked back up at Barty. “I didn’t order this.”
“It’s on the house,” Barty winked.
The woman sitting next to him was smiling slightly, looking between them, but the man was still frowning down at his drink. “What is it?”
“It’s a whiskey smash,” Barty said. “Because you’re just smashing. And I think we should smash. Whichever pun you like more.”
The man’s expression fell flat, his eyes coming up to meet Barty’s with an unimpressed glare. But the woman burst out with a melodic laugh, reaching out to nudge her sour companion.
“That was brilliant!” She gasped. “Oh, I like you. I’m Pandora, and this is my brother, Evan.”
Barty grinned at her, dipping his head in a nod in her direction. “My name is Barty.”
The man, Evan, was still glaring at him. “Don’t you have a job you should be doing?”
“I’m doing it right now,” Barty said, leaning up against the bar casually. “I’m checking in on my two favorite patrons.”
Pandora beamed at him, but Evan’s glower remained. Barty wanted him, bad.
“I think you should go back to the customers who actually want your attention,” Evan deadpanned. Barty fought hard to hide his smile, but he couldn’t help the corners of his lips turning up.
“I’ll win you over by the end of the night, you’ll see.” Barty teased.
“Don’t bet on it,” Evan quipped, taking a sip of his whiskey smash and nodding his head in response to the taste.
“Ah, but I’ve always favored low odds,” Barty said, leaning in with a wide grin.
“These odds are nonexistent,” Evan responded, staring at him blankly. Barty had to get this guy to fucking respond to him, even if the response was anger.
“You’re really sending me mixed signals, what with all the flirting you’re doing,” Barty said. Pandora laughed at the two of them, a melodic tinkle behind their words.
“This isn’t flirting. This is barely toleration,” Evan snapped.
“Ooh, tell me again how much you can’t stand me, it’s getting me hot and bothered.” Barty swooned against the top of the bar, lifting a hand to his forehead to tie together his dramatics. Pandora was laughing again, but Evan’s face hadn’t changed.
“Are you looking for a big tip or something?” Evan asked. “Because I might not tip at all, after this.”
“I don’t want your money, Evan,” Barty purred, leaning as close as he could, so that they were mere inches apart. Evan’s eyes flicked down to his lips, and then quickly raced back up to meet his eyes again, as if it had never happened. But Barty had seen. “I want something else.”
Finally, finally, Barty caught a hint of arousal in the other man’s eyes and in the set of his jaw as he clenched his teeth. There was a long pause, Barty trying to ramp up the tension between them, before Evan wholly surprised him by taking initiative.
One moment Barty was leaning ever-closer, and the next, Evan had fisted his shirt in one strong hand, yanking him half over the bar and leaving his feet dangling over the other side. Evan had stood, leaving his bar stool empty, and now he was looming over Barty as he scrambled for purchase on the too-smooth surface of the bar.
Evan yanked him up by his shirt, and then unceremoniously ducked down to bite the side of his neck harshly. Barty gasped, his hands coming up to grip Evan’s arms as he held him in place. It felt as if he’d been dunked into fire, his heart was racing and his blood was boiling. His nails bit into Evan’s arms, but he didn’t dare stop, pressing his teeth in deeper and then flicking his tongue over the sore spot. Barty stifled a moan, trying not to thrust against the bar for friction.
After a prolonged stretch of Evan’s teeth and tongue abusing the side of Barty’s throat, he finally pulled away, dropping Barty immediately. Barty awkwardly slid back down so that his feet touched the floor again, straightening out the black button-down he was wearing. His neck, where Evan had left his mark, was throbbing in pleasure-pain.
Evan looked him over, eyes lingering on what was sure to be a very obvious hickey on the side of Barty’s throat. Barty swallowed roughly. He was maybe a little in-over-his-head, not that he cared one bit. Pandora was laughing, but Barty only had eyes for Evan.
“Meet me after your shift, Barty.” Evan gave him a slow, almost-sweet smile. His eyes had gone a little darker, his skin a touch flushed.
And Barty did.
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