#like I know Marcus treated her like a kid

[alumi-san]

Decided to check Nina's Wiki page...

I'm sorry WHAT?!

[pedgito]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑 | Marcus Acacius x f!reader

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summary | A female gladiator plucked from the arena by the most powerful general in Rome, convinced to serve under his command. You learn that his taste for blood might not be so different from your own.

author's note | the horny demons strike again. this has a little plot, thanks to the beautiful minds of @ovaryacted and @kedsandtubesocks who deal with my crazy so generously.

content warning | 18+ mdni, set pre-gladiator ii, description of war & mistreatment of women in roman society, female gladiator, dark-ish!acacius, reader has minimal backstory, but is revealed to be nameless (uses monikers given to her: medusa, fury, minerva), fighting, m*rder, blood tw, gore tw, sa warning (i have it annotated further below with content, but nothing graphic) acacius covered in someone elses blood as he fucks you, copious smut, biting as a little treat

word count — 8k

“How much?” Acacius inquires, tapping his finger against the iron bars holding you prisoner, staring back at the men. The ginger twins and a man—no, a general. Dressed in a toga of thick material, embroidered with intricate designs, gold bangles at his wrist, a telltale sign of high honor. 

“Oh, she is…” The older one, Geta, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he shakes his head, “priceless—quite the fighter, too.”

“Does she have a name?” 

Geta smirks to himself, “They call her Medusa. She favors beheading, it seems.” Geta waggles a finger through the bars and smirks, nose scrunching as he addresses you, “Correct?” 

You ignore him, responding with a stare—much like your given moniker; if looks could kill.

“She’s bested them all,” Caracalla boasts from beside his brother, Dundus fiddling with his hair from where she was perched on his shoulder, “even our lion that we’ve had since kids.”

“It was a stupid idea, your fault,” Geta retorts, “but—again, she’s not for sale.”

“I’ll conquer India within the next few nightfalls, a handful of new gladiators fresh for the choosing, for your entertainment—how does that sound?”

Greedy as they were and entirely too incompetent, Caracalla agrees before his brother can open his mouth. 

“Will you bring her back to visit?” Caracalla inquires with an underlying excitement—the poor brother was nothing but a dunce, erratic and impulsive, but all too easy to manipulate. “The others may miss her.”

“Indeed,” Another swift but convincing lie, Caracalla and Acacius shake hands on the deal before Geta can retort, fuming with rage as he stomps away.

He’d taken a liking to your fighting style despite his distaste for the arena. Strategic and skilled, brute strength and a drive that was built around pure survival but somehow all while maintaining the perfect amount of gracefulness that men did not. Constant calculation, finesse, it was like an art.

He’s gone through several guards over his rule, some from sacrifice but others out of pure ignorance. He needed a strong base, malleable but resistant. He could shape you into a leader, he thinks. He knows.

Your hard stare is like ice as the keys jingle into the lock, a defining click a resounding echo of freedom and General Acacius extends his palm.

A gesture of freedom, a new life, trepidation fills you despite your yearn for a way out of this prison. Here it was, served up on a platter covered in intricate facets of white and gold, stubble brushing his cheeks and soft brown eyes offering kindness.

This was not a man of sheer violence, not the tales they tell about him—this was a man of trouble, conflict, and an instinct to protect himself. And he’d chosen you.

Your hands slips into his, a similar roughness to match his own and scars that Acacius knew well enough of—you were a true fighter, a warrior.

The two boys—calling the men would be too easy, they often acted like spoiled children, were already off to their own chambers, and Acacius had only dropped his hard facade slightly, still under the watchful eye of Rome’s guards, he led you onto your new life.

-

“I cannot accept,” You argue, as respectful as you could manage, hands crossed firmly over your front, near your waist as you spoke to General Acacius in his private office at home, a place few have stepped foot into, but yet somehow, again, you were given a free pass.

“Are you refusing my order?” Acacius counters, there’s pillowyness to his tone, almost taunting.

“Sir—er, General,” It was all new to you, formalities, structure, rules, “I…am a woman.”

“I am not blind,” Acacius squints his eyes slightly, before leaning back in the creaky chair, “my men—they will not question my choices. They listen, they do their duties. They need strong leadership. Gladiator, I believe you can bestow that upon them.”

“I am a stranger to you, you know nothing of me,” You tell him, a full truth, “General, I fear you may have made the wrong decision, I am not what you think I—”

Silently, Acacius fingers curl around the handle to a drawer hidden behind his desk, pulling out a sharp knife with a handle carved of bone, twisting it in his grip before he’s rearing his arm back, throwing it in your direction.

It zips by with force, the tip of the knife snagging and burying itself deep into the wall behind you, your head whipping to the side to follow it, the sharp blade barely missing the skin of your ear. 

Quick reflexes. You turn back to a smirking Acacius.

“I am positive, had I thrown that between your eyes you would have caught it without overthinking the consequences—most of my men would do the same,” Acacius lectures, standing with his brutish frame and walking toward the wall, the soft flow of a breeze kissing at your fists.

“Though, I have another proposition,” Acacius says lightly, twisting the knife in his hand, the pointing spinning against his fingertip as he circles around you, “—attack me.”

“Sir,” You argue, “that surely defeats the purpose of—”

His fist balls up tight and aims for your side. Acacius sees it, the anticipation as you block his hand. He chuckles underneath his breath, “Please, continue,” He teases, twisting out of your grip to pull another punch that you block with ease—he was going easy, you think.

Natural reaction takes hold and his test quickly turns into a full-out brawl, twisting and slipping underneath his grip until you have him pinned against a nearby wall, teeth bared with his forearm pressed against his throat, struggling to grip his free arm.

The real test is here, as Acacius bares the knife near your neck, an immediate reaction to protect yourself rather than go for the kill shot, knowing that anyone of normal skill would be too full of bloodlust to think of anything other than killing you. Protection and defense came first, taking the small nick of a cut to your own forearm before you’re knocking the knife out of his hand and wrestling him to the ground with a swift kick to his leg, rendering him helpless.

“Indeed, you are exactly what I think you are,” Acacius says with finality, “I want you to lead my personal guard. Whatever it is I must do to obtain that, my lady I will do—riches, bribery—”

You push away from him with a heavy exhale, standing and adjusting your clothes, brushing your hair away from your face, “No need, I will do it.”

Acacius rolls to his back, hand extending once more. 

This time, it is you offering the help as he uses the leverage to rise to his feet before speaking to you with a triumphant tone. 

“Commander,” He grins, “let us plan.”

–

He often asks of your lineage, your home. But, there is nothing to offer. A long conquered piece of land now under the rule of Rome and a home that was never a home. An orphan you had always been, nameless, taking greedily whatever name was bestowed upon you. 

In the arena it was Medusa, the tale of a vicious woman with god-like power. Caracalla had told you of the story, the boys having taken a liking to you in different ways. Geta was fiendish, hungry, often seeking you out for his own pleasure to which you wouldn’t deny. Couldn’t. He could be rough, but he wasn’t.

He seemed lonely, the poor boy.

Carcalla was only searching for a friend despite his unruly, chaotic nature. When he wasn’t ruling with tyranny over Rome, terrorizing the townspeople, he was telling you stories.

Other times it was only she. Or her. Or just girl. The girl.

You were only what people assumed of you, expected you to be.

“Medusa, ay?” A greasy looking man confirms, one of the six men who were to be under your command, “The gladiator?”

“You will respect her,” General Acacius had warned them, “or an apology will be your dying breath.”

It had struck most of them with fear. Most of them.

And for many nights, countless, it seems—the transition of leadership was smooth. You had an unyielding grip on them, awaiting direction, following your orders. It was the kind of rush most would only dream of, and as a woman, it was an unforeseen privilege. 

“They address you as Medusa, too,” Acacius notes during a roundtable session as the other men wander off for dinner, “do you wish for them to address you differently?”

“I have no name, General,” You admit, “I am whatever I must be. If they think of me as so, that is what I am. Though, I would love to turn a few of them into stone, given I was granted her powers.”

“I believe you could manage that feat without them,” Acacius jokes, “—but, nameless? Even at birth?”

“I know nothing of my birth parents. They told me I was found wrapped in cloth under the bridge that led into the town your army eventually turned to rubble,” A bittersweet feeling, speaking unusually out of term, facing him with the facts, “though, it does not matter. I enjoy the fear they have of me, keeps wandering hands at bay.”

Such an enigma, Acacius eyes you curiously. It was the most you’ve opened up to him since retrieving you from your cell, and even then, still forcing him to face the consequences of war.

The guilt followed him at every waking moment.

“Do you need anything further of me, General?” You ask politely, “You have spoiled my appetite as of late and your men are greedy with the stew.”

“You are dismissed,” He speaks distantly, turning over the thick, coarse paper with a drawn out map of the territory they were to invade soon, a lingering well wish leaving his lips, “sleep well, commander.”

Unfortunately, you’ve turned to sleeping with a knife under your bedroll—with a lingering ache of betrayal, you weren’t allowing yourself to lower your guard.

-

The attacks do not start at night. Rather during the day, when the General is off and away, scouting ahead further when half of his army while the other half sticks at camp, keeping claim.

That is when the insults come, the disbelief, the mockery.

Most of his men settled with the idea, having accepted your position even if it displeased them. 

But, there was one. Like a bull—hardheaded and stocky, fists and arms like clubs, testosterone radiating from his body in crashing waves. He wants you to fear him, submit to him. 

You feel it. You see it. And you’ve been through it before, other large and brutish gladiators thinking with their muscles rather than their brains. It wouldn’t take long for them to meet their demise, but this one was…different.

He approaches you with a smile than anyone could see right through, a finger brushing your cheek as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in to brush his lips against the shell of it.

“They are hungry,” He drips of vicious intention, “—I say, you give us a show. Entertain us, Medusa.”

Your eyes snap to him, staring him down.

“Pitiful Acacius isn’t here to save you,” He warns, “though, I have reason to believe he is as weak as most men—spread your legs and he’ll be begging for a taste, too.”

“I will gut you where you stand,” You warn, reaching for the thick machete at your waist, “you’re like a pig. Brainless and greedy for whatever you can get. Touch me, I dare you.”

The rest of the men are relatively quiet, but they do not stop him. Smirks and half-smiles hidden behind their cups, lounging on a log near their tents, enjoying the entertainment. 

It was nightfall, the fire crackling between you and them, a towering presence at your backside.

And as he dares to, his hand slides up your waist. 

Without hesitation you flip the weapon in your grip, grabbing at his wrist and slicing at his arm—a featherlight touch, it was merrily a glorified papercut, but his eyes widened in shock.

“Let us see how well you touch without fingers,” You threaten, flipping the machete until it is pointing in his face, death grip on the handle if he dared to take it, taunting him with the sharp end of your blade, “hands?”

That deep, rumbling sound of hooves approaches through the darkness, everyone slowly falling back into their paces as you welcome back your General with a forced smile.

Acacius hands off the reins to another rider, taking scope of the situation that seemed to be defusing in front of him, but still—he notices. His eyes trade glances between you both before he nods at you to follow him.

Speaking under his breath, “The others have coined you as fury,” He laughs softly at the pseudonym, “little fury, they tell me. Like the Furies. I cannot say I disagree with them. Has he been pestering you long?”

Your brow furrows at the reference, lost on your ill-informed mind.

“Long enough,” You answer honestly, “though, he was bestowed a parting gift this time.”

You raise your blade, his blood still painting the weapon.

He raises the curtain to his tent, allowing you to enter before him.

“Do you know nothing of the Furies?”

“I was not privy to bedtime tales, General.”

He nods, thoughtful as his lips pull together in a thin line, slowly removing his armor as he sits, directing for you to take a seat opposite of him, a few feet away on a decaying stump.

“Goddesses,” He states simply, “of vengeance, striking the wicked down. You have…fire, deep within you. Do not let them put it out, it is your weapon.”

You nod obediently, feeling the humidity stick to your skin, clothes glued to your body as you sit in the uncomfortable heat. There was no world in which you felt safe enough to strip down, quell your body of this unbearable summer weather. You would rather suffer, thick garb covering your body.

Acacius tilts his head, but does not comment.

“I require your protection tomorrow, we must scout an additional day and I fear danger is imminent—relay this to them,” He instructs, “and my lady, if you fear they will visit you at night, that they might strike when you’re vulnerable, you are welcome here.”

He already anticipates your response—he knows, but the gesture was an offer. A kindness. 

“If they try, you will be searching for new men by sunrise, General.”

Acacius smirks in amusement, nodding to your words.

“It would not be difficult to replace them,” He notes, “though, little fury, you are irreplaceable.” 

-

General Acacius wasn’t an easy man to protect, but you managed. Over the few weeks that you had taken point within his guard it has leant you plenty of opportunities to prove your worth, slaughtering opposing soldiers like cattle for the glory of Rome, his booming voice pronouncing vie victis as the dead are laid rest under fire and smoke.

But, conflict comes when you are faced with a decision as the camp was raided under complete, utter darkness. It was your shift to guard the General, perched outside of his tent with constant, roaming eyes. Eventually, you drift. It was peaceful, nature taking hold and pulling you under, awoken to the sound of blood curdling screams, the ground painted with the innards of both Acacius’ men and the others.

You were forced with a choice—defend the camp, something Acacius would have told you to do in a moment of desperation, a self-sacrificing man himself. Ironic, given your position, that you even think otherwise. Of course, your feet pull you toward him, whipping the flowing fabric of his tent door back.

There was a knife at his neck, a man towering over him. He’d snuck past—taken advantage of your exhaustion and your mistake was putting the General’s life at risk, his face stoic as he pushed back against the blade with his palm.

Without thinking, you rush toward the man, pulling back at his collar to plunge the knife pointed at Acacius into his own throat, a silent death through the notch of his neck, the blood flowing out like a river, tossing the lifeless man to the side before you’re reaching for your General.

“Do not worry,” He assures you as he rises, still groggy from sleep, “go—protect our camp.”

“But, General,” You plead, not realizing that your hand was grasping on his own, or that he had initiated the touch as a gentle push, a confirmation that he was truly alright, “it is my fault.”

His eyes peer behind you and to the man lying lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around his body.

“Though, it seems you have done your duty,” Acacius comments, head turned down as he stares at the body before his eyes peer up at you under his dark lashes, pensive, “now—kill them.”

-

You had lost a hundred or so men, nothing to the army of five thousand, but any loss was felt within General Acacius’ army—men of honor, with families or not, deserved a proper farewell. 

Covered in the blood of many, some of your friends and some of strangers, hair matted and reeking of death, you approach General Acacius who was sending off a group of men to begin digging the mass grave to dispose of the bodies.

Your body ached, bruised and nicked from battle—you had killed at least five hundred men alone. Pure rage and fury, not a memory of it as you approached him now, a blank stare void of emotion that concerns Acacius, his hand reaching for your wrist as you begin to pass him, heading for your own tent to collapse in exhaustion. 

“You did well,” He notes, catching your gaze as he turns his head to infiltrate your line of sight, “wash off before you turn in, you…reek. There’s a river beyond the bend—clean, warm.”

You nod despite only paying half-attention to his words, walking mindlessly toward the river before you are faced with the unfortunate crowd of men, undressed to their natural state, avoiding the watchful eyes and preying gazes, stripping your armor off down near the empty end of the river, pulling at your tangled hair, pulling off each remaining piece of clothing despite your body’s protest, screaming for relief.

It wasn’t unfamiliar, the looks—you bathed alongside all the men under the arena without a thought, knowing most of them were vying for freedom and wouldn’t dare risk it by allowing their cocks to work overtime, forgetting rational thought.

But, to them, you were a trophy. Someone—something, to be conquered.

The thin, flimsy undergarments come off last, stepping into the water and sinking down slowly. The blood washes away as you scrub, back turned as you dip your head into the water before committing  entirely, plugging your nose as you dip underneath the water, finding peace in the silence.

“I had my doubts, Medusa,” A voice bellows from behind as you rise, your eyes peeling open with a quickly growing annoyance, “of you being a true woman, but—”

“Careful,” One of the men warned, a stable boy, “she will run to the general.”

It was the same man from many nights ago, big and brutish, always looking for a fight, even with the other men. He hadn’t learned his lesson, clearly. 

“Acacius is busy,” He retorts, “so—what say you give us the show you owe us?”

You stand frozen in place, staring daggers at the man who seems only more amused as the anger in you builds, permeates.

(sa themes below: noncon touching, reader is naked in front of several men)

“Get out of the water,” He demands, “unless you prefer I come get you.”

You survey your choices, knowing that staying in the water wasn’t a safe option. They can and will wait you out. Your eyes track toward your clothes, further away than you had left them. Your eyes track the scar on his forearm and you smirk, teething peeking out behind your lips, “How beautiful,” You tell him, his eyes slowly following your own, “quite the scar, is it not? Fancy another?”

You spot the knife sheathed in his leather belt, taking your chances despite the vulnerability that remains with your naked frame on full display as you retreat from the water, he nods with confidence as you approach, a faint whistle in the distance that you’ve heard before. The oaf seems to ignore it, though. His large hand comes to your breast in an instant, body dripping wet and a sickness churning in your gut as the sticks of torch and fire approach amongst the murmuring crowd of men, less than subtle about the rowdiness that was ensuing.

He pulls you into his body with a greedy hunger as his opposite hands gropes at your backside, following the curve of your ass as your hand snakes toward the blade, but the voice that rips through the crowd is enough to wake the dead, silence falling over the area in an instant.

“Remove your hand,” Acacius voice travels, the same booming voice he uses to declare victory over a new territory, “or I will remove it myself.”

“General,” The man addressed in a drunkish manner, inviting, “she was offering—Medusa, tell him.”

Your silence is expected, his hand wandering toward your other breast, biting hard enough at the inside of your cheek that it draws blood—Acacius sees your hand wrapping around the blade and speaks again, approaches closer as the mud sticks to his boots, “I will tell you once more. Remove it.”

The man eyes you with disdain, dropping his hands away as you relinquish your hold of his weapon, allowing the breath caught in your chest to escape, but it doesn’t stop the touch that follows, taunting with its intention as his palm curls around the back of your head, tilting your head to the side as he squeezes, “I forget—you are the General’s property after all.”

(end of sa themes)

“Take him,” He orders the other lingering guards, men who’ve never shown you anything other than respect—they value their lives and limbs, as any sane person would, “and start the fire.”

Acacius looks around at the lingering eyes, “I suggest all of you return to camp. Now.”

That was all it took, most of them scrambling for their own clothes and armor as they retreated like scurrying mice or dogs with their tail between their legs, leaving you under Acacius' careful gaze. He reaches down to fetch you dirtied clothes, looking them over with disgust.

He removes the black cape around his shoulders without a word, opening it as an offering. Desperate to cover yourself, you slip your arms in the sleeves with his help, his eyes wandering no further than your face as you turn to him, tucking the cape around yourself. He reaches for the hood, pulling it down.

“Come,” He demands, “I would like you to witness.”

–

The screams are audible as you approach camp, a few feet behind Acacius as he rounds the fire and separates the crowd to create a path, approaching the man bound at his feet, one arm roped at his side and secured away, leaving him to fight the men that held him down.

“General, gen—general, I am sorry,” He pleads, “she—you do not understand, she taunts. She is poison, not a leader,” He continues, despite Acacius lack of response, making a motion with his hand to remove the man’s weapon and hand it to him, pulling it from it’s leather cover and examining the blade, he makes a soft sound to himself, “Acacius—you have known me for years. Do not let this woman trick you.”

“Gag him,” He ignores his pleading, leaning down to grip the hand of the man bound below, “your humility is amusing, but your greed is what is costing you. She has shown you mercy, but I will not.”

The cut isn’t a clean slice, either. It takes several swings before the limb detaches, blood spurting out of the appendage as the man screams in pain, dragged helplessly toward the fire before they’re cauterizing the wound—your body unreactive as you watch but silently stewing with frustration.

He had spared the man, sure. But, making a show of it? A mockery?

“Commander, with me,” General Acacius demands, waiting for you to snap back into reality, your eyes meeting his face, blood covering his armor and hands, somehow avoidant of most of the mess.

When you are alone, you don’t hold back.

“I would have handled him,” You tell him, “killed him myself.”

“This is not the arena, we do not go around slaughtering our men without reason,” Acacius retorts, “he will be demoted and replaced and be a reminder to the others that you—”

“I do not need you defending my honor, General.”

“Men will not change, this—society, it does not cater to your safety. To them, women are nothing but vanity and pleasure—”

“And property,” You remark, “lest you forget how you obtained me, General.”

Acacius approaches you near the table at the center of his tent, only a foot away as he removes his armor plate, pulling it over his head, “Had I not, you would have paid for your own freedom eventually. I needed a leader—strong, smart, powerful.”

“By punishing that man, you are sending the message that I need my battles fought for me,” You argue, “and as if these men did not already think I was the General’s plaything, what will they think now?”

Acacius sighs through his nose, pulling at the fabric of his tunic that bares his chest, “I believe they will behave,” He tells you, “because you will not be as kind when you take their heads. He was an example and a pain in my ass for years, he deserved more than that.”

“And what will they think of me now? I am naked under this cloak, your cloak. I must walk the path back to my tent surrounded by men deprived of the things your bestial minds crave.”

Acacius chuckles to himself, “I have been thinking,” He begins, “that you deserve a new name. Something indicative of all that you are. Some of the men award each other with monikers of war. Medusa seems to have become more of a taunt, in light of recent events.”

He unties the leather bands at his wrist, eyeing you with a mischievous gaze as he keeps you waiting, “Have you heard the tale of Minerva, my lady?”

It isn’t a surprise, but you shake your head.

“A goddess of many things—strategy, warfare, victory, and justice…but mostly importantly, wisdom. I have seen the way you command the battlefield, it is not lost on me.”

“You have…many stories, General.”

“My mother told me one every night as she tucked me, it seems they have stuck with me.”

Tell me more, the words linger in the back of your throat.

“I am barely standing, General. I must retire for the night.”

“Indeed,” He agrees, shamelessly stripping down to his undergarments to walk toward the clean bowl of water and wash away the drying blood, “and Minerva,” the name is completely foreign, but you respond with a hum, “your position is yours alone. You have earned it. Do not let them tell you otherwise.”

-

Like Medusa, the name sticks.

And thankfully, you were a few weeks away from a much-earned break from war, returning to Rome as a free woman for the first time, having finally fallen into a comfortable rhythm with the rest of his personal guards—a mutual respect that had been missing, men waiting for your command.

Long nights of planning spent in Acacius tent, surrounded by the other guards until they filter out one by one, growing curiosity and questions lead to many hours of conversation that you, for many months, had been deprived of in the arena.

“You did promise my return,” You remind him, “they will be expecting you to keep that.”

“They are young, fickle men,” Acacius berates with amusement, “I am sure they have moved on.”

“Do you fear them? The emperors?”

“They are spoiled brats,” Acacius responds, an answer in itself.

“They would visit me often,” You admit, “Caracalla seemed to be—it seems the syphilis in his loins was truly affecting his brains, often he would not even make sense. Or he would come to me, complaining of his brother.”

“You had built quite the rapor,” Acacius notes with a smile, sipping at the broth from his stew as he invites you to sit on his fancy, expensive bed cot. Much nicer than your own, cushioned and wrapped in velvet, “What of Geta?”

“He liked my breasts,” You begin bluntly, “and my—”

“He forced himself upon you?”

“I was property of Rome, Acacius,” You didn’t often say his name in such a relaxed way, blaming it on the full belly and exhaustion, “therefore I was his. I have suffered much worse than a lonely man searching for comfort.”

Acacius seems thoughtful, pensive as he stirs at his quickly diminishing stew. He does catch your lingering gaze on his face after a while, mesmerized by the scar underneath his eye, he encourages you.

“Ask, if you are so curious, my lady,” He places his bowl to the side, empty.

“Your scar,” You nod, pressing your finger in a mirroring way under your eye, “is there a story?”

“Nothing to be told with boast,” He chuckles, “a wound of battle, is all. Like many of the scars on my body,” He tells you, raising his naked forearm to display the various scars, noting the few that paint his clavicle, “and you, Minerva?”

It seems to have become a particular quirk of his, a lilt to his voice as he calls you by your given name—the others have become accustomed to it, too. But, with Acacius, it felt special. Treasured.

You raise your eyebrows at his question, quietly unlacing your top to pull it down your shoulder, sliding a hand over your breast to respect the dynamic between you both—him being your general and you, his subordinate. His eyes squint as he examines the jagged and staggered scar on the side of your breasts—not quite faded, healed but relatively fresh.

“He is a biter,” You warn him with amusement, “Geta.”

Only one scar, given by one of the emperors, somehow untouched from real battle. It was miraculous. You readjust your top, feeling the heat from your neck rise to your face at what you had just willingly offered over to Acacius. Unfortunately, he had a way of lowering your guard.

With that talk, it seemed like a true breakthrough in your partnership with Acacius.

He always allowed you to speak for yourself, never overstepping the boundary you had argued with him over, leading the charge with an iron fist and handling the younger, fresh faced soldiers who just seemed…lost. 

It was hard to ignore the lingering glances over time, often during meetings as you spoke, not a look of attention but rather…ravishing. Hungry, but in a subdued manner. You weren’t sure where the lines had blurred, but they had.

Possibly somewhere within the long nights of conversation or the lingering touches that shouldn’t have been as charged as they were, handing over a piece of armor or blade and his calloused fingertips would circle your wrist, pause, before his brain would catch up to his actions. 

“Go on,” He encourages after a final night of victory and triumph, many of the men howling and singing tunes around the fire, drinking from their cups and enjoying the pleasures of alcohol and comradery, “you are missing the fun,” He was unnaturally quiet, subdued to his quarters, leaning against the outside of his tent as he watched with amusement but subtle dismay.

A younger man approaches with his hand extended, a gleeful expression on his face, “Minerva, please—come, you must enjoy the party, too.”

The general gives you an expectant look as you let the young man lead you away, curling his fingers around your own and pulling you with vigor, cheering loudly to blend in with the energy of the men despite how you worry about the man several feet away, your eyes tracking his disappearing figure as he slips into his tent, eventually pulled away by another man, one of the guardsmen who adored you, asking for a dance.

You agree hesitantly as the crowd roars louder, eyes searching for the exact reason as you see a few men leading a line of women into camp, little clothing to allow them modesty, a less than subtle shushing come from the men as they lead them deeper into camp, and the fear in you tells you to run to the General.

“It is not what you think,” The young man tells you, “they are dancers—no harm will—”

You bypass him, straight toward the men leading the path, stopping them cold.

“They are not here against their will, my lady.” He assures you, though, that could be argued.

“Minerva, Acacius has made it clear that harming women, you—is far worse a crime than anything else. Truly, it is not what you believe it to be.”

“I am telling the General, informing him of their presence,” You admit, “so I suggest you and the rest of the cattle be on your best behavior?”

They both give crisp, curt nods.

As you make the direct line for Acacius’ tent, you are ignorant to his silent plea for privacy at the tied rope, intertwined with gold fabric, pushing apart the fabric doors without much of a thought, reality hitting you as you catch a glimpse of his naked frame, patting down his body with a clean cloth as he washed himself, other hand curved around his cock as he stretched his neck up and back, the water splashing as he dipped the towel into the basin, only aware of your present when you make a small, unrecognizable sound as a result of your own stupidity. 

“I—General,” Your eyes widen as they take on a mind of their own, straight down the valley of his chest as he turns to you, quickly spinning on your heels, “I should have—I apologize, uh, the men…they are—”

“I was informed,” He assures, “and they have been warned, I assure you.”

“Yes, hm—um,” It was the only time Acacius had seen you flustered

“I assumed the rope was a clear message,” Acacius teases, “but—it is not your fault. I should have informed you of their…antics.”

He pulls the tight, fabric shorts over his hips, clearing his throat, peering over your shoulder you breathe a sigh of relief, “General, I would like to apologize for—” You swallow, watching as he turned barefoot on his heels, the fabric of the immodest undergarments curving around the stretch of his cock, half-hard under the fabric and the outline of thick head pushing against the linen.

You don’t realize how long you’re staring until he’s approaching with a tap of his finger on the underside of your chin, “There is no need for that,” He assures you, your nose scrunching up in confusion at the sudden touch, feeling the subtle shift as he reaches behind you for the clothes folded on the table at your backside, “surely you must return to the party,” He encourages, “celebrate a well-earned victory.”

“Why?” You counter, “When you will not.”

“Minerva,” He warns.

“You are distracted,” You note, watching as Acacius now avoids your gaze, “it is worrying me.”

He cannot admit the reason why. That it may be you. 

“Acacius,” You call his name, hoping that will break through to him.

“Leave me,” He asks, rather than demanding, “I need to rest.”

It was a lie, but you do not fight him on it.

–

Silence blankets the camp in the early morning hours—the witching hours, as you’ve come to know them. Sleeping securely in your tent, bedroll tucked under your head as you drift. Unaware of the creeping men planning your untimely demise, assuring that the entire camp was asleep before they strike, arms and legs rendered useless as the third shoves a piece of cloth into your mouth and ties it around the back of your head, screams muffled behind the fabric, stripped of your weapons. Helpless, they think.

During the struggle, one of them grows frustrated, banging the hard rock against your skull and plunging you back into darkness.

When you come to, you are unclear of where you are, but it was outside, arms above your head against the thick limb, feet bound tight as well, a sting and a string of wetness running down the side of your face as your blurry vision becomes clear.

“Little Minerva,” the voice begins mockingly, all too familiar to your ears, “he has named you—you must feel special, ay?”

He kneels in front of you, the one hand he has left curling around the forearm of what was left of his other appendage, “And you expect to return back to Rome as a free woman,” He laughs, snorts wetly through his nose, “I assure you that will not happen. Rather, you will be a dead one.”

The other two lingering figures join in on the laughter.

“How did you say it?” He taunts, “I will gut you where you stand?”

“It took three of you to capture me,” You retort, “your confidence is lacking sorely.”

He clears the back of his throat, rearing up a ball of saliva in his mouth before he’s spitting at you.

“I will slaughter all of you with my hands,” You promise, “untie me, unless you are fearful.”

Driven by ego, it doesn’t take much for him to agree.

But, as he had underestimated you the first time, and the second, he would regret the third.

The two men come at you first, enough tussling and your teeth ripping into the ear of one of them, searching blindly for a thick, heavy and sharp edge branch that would handle the weight of piercing through skin and muscle, finding the right weapon at the perfect moment—the attacker rearing back as the other approached, driving the make-shift stake through his chest as the other tackled you to the ground, a poor miscalculation on his part as you get your legs around his neck, arms pinned at an painful, awkward ankle until his neck snaps from the force, the ox-like man awaiting in the shadows like a coward, blood spilling from your mouth as you scream.

The heavy hooves approach like roaring thunder and the instant your attacker catches on, his attempts to flee are ruined by the barricade of men at all angles, General Acacius at the head of the charge, a rageful expression on his face. Feral unlike you have ever seen.

He jumps off of his horse, ordering the men to capture the surviving man once again, looking around at the lifeless bodies beside you, assuring his men he would handle you and the mess, demanding they return to camp at once. 

You look around aimlessly, blood staining your face as Acacius struggles to capture your attention, eventually resorting to a strong, demanding hold on your face, cradling your head with his hands.

“Are you wounded?” He asks, then notices the trail of blood from your scalp, pushing away the hair to reveal with gash from the rock they had attacked you with, grimacing as he runs his finger over the wound in worry.

Suddenly, you are stricken with a need, “Give me your sword,” You tell him, eyes flicking up to meet his own, “I need your sword.” His movements are too slow, still concerned with you that you reach for the weapon yourself.

Pulling away, you approach one of the dead men with the sword, swinging it up over your head and down with force, beheading him in one go, before switching to the other man, less finesse as you swing—again and again, until there is nothing but a pool of blood, bone, and brain—Acacius steps in eventually, tossing the sword away as he holds you arms in his fierce grip, letting the screams rip from your chest as he sways with you, eventually falling to your knees in exhaustion. He uses his bare hands to wipe the blood away from your neck, your face, feeling the soft shake of your body as you sob in silence, overcome with an emotion you so rarely let surface.

–

The public execution follows the next morning, everyone rousing from their tents to the loud, blaring horn from the ship just off shore—Acacius had assisted you back to camp on his horse, slumped against his back as you rode until the trampling finally stopped, sliding off the horse and into Acacius’ arms as he led you inside his tent.

He didn’t sleep the entire night, watching over you instead—he rarely blinked, staring off into nothingness as he tried to keep the vicious rage at bay, by morning, he was itching.

“You may stay,” He tells you, “your head—I cleaned it while you slept.”

You shove his hand away as he attempts to help you sit, slowly dressing yourself, eventually putting together the fact that Acacius had undressed and bathed you at some point throughout the night, not a speck of blood or spit remaining.

“Are you ordering me to stay?”

Acacius shakes his head, his hand still hovering close by.

“Then I will attend.”

He doesn’t argue against it and there is, despite your weariness to admit, a relief of your chest as Acacius rears back his blade, silencing the final scream the man lets out, pleading for his life. The blood sprays over his face, a strong grimace at the sheer strength it takes to behead the man, but the general manages it with one strike of his blade.

His speech follows, a deep and unsettling warning to all of his men. A final one.

Men, wide-eyed with fear, agree without resistance before he sends them off to ready the ship for departure and a meal before they begin their long trek back to Rome—he is less than gentle as he grabs your wrist without warning and pulls you alongside him, back to his tent.

–

He ties the rope with a stiff tug, before turning to you, stumbling on your feet as pull off his cape, having offered it to you for a second time, assuring that dressing in your usually armor wasn’t needed today, not as you began your travels, a flowing dress tied at your shoulder and waist that you were used to wearing during the showings back in Rome, parading you around like a prize.

“Acacius, perhaps you should sit,” You suggest, watching his hands curl into fists at his sides before he’s spinning on his heels and toward you, cradling your face like he had the night prior, but even this close, it felt like he was trying to keep you at a distance, “—I am sorry, if I did something—”

“I crave you,” Acacius admits, “you must know.”

Your lips part, gearing up the courage to speak, but falling short.

“Nights I have spent,” He breathes, shaking his head, the curls tickling your forehead as they meet, “thinking—wondering—”

“Acacius, why now?” You question him, “As we are homebound, back to your wife. Surely, she would have my head.”

Acacius shakes his head with a soft, but fond laugh.

“Our marriage is complex,” He explains, “Something I do not care to explain in great detail at this moment, you see—,” His hand curves around the side of your neck, tilting your head up, lips grazing against his own as he speaks, “I had no such intention for things to get like this, but you have proven to make things…difficult, for me,” He breathes out through his mouth, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, “and I need you, should you have me.”

You could easily deny him, knowing he would back off in an instant. But, like this, clearly driven by adrenaline and instinct, riding the high of such a charged execution, he was craving something deeper than an outlet to release the built up tension. 

He craved connection—through little moments of conversation and touches, someone at level-ground, an equal. You were his equal. He’d given you so much since, and you would be lying to yourself if you denied the thoughts that had riddled your mind too.

“I do not much prefer a soft touch,” You finally reply, “or gentle care.”

He silences you with a kiss, bruising and tense as he licks into your mouth, hungrily searching for more areas to taste and devour, licking along the column of your neck as the blood of another smeared into your skin, his fingers working quietly to undo your dress, in turn wrestling with his armor and clothes, nearly ripping the fabric of his shirt from his body as you claw at him.

Wet kisses and clashing tongues fill the silent room, a screeching sound as your back hits the roundtable before he’s lifting from the back of your thighs and scooting you onto the surface, naked and bare as he spreads your thighs apart to move between them, clearly restraining himself as he licks, teeth grazing carefully.

“I enjoy them,” You admit, “Do not hold back, Acacius. They are what I will keep with me, if this be the only time.”

Like a dog cut loose of his chain, his teeth sink into the breasts mirror the mark of the other, hissing as his teeth break through the skin just enough for the subtle trickling of blood to rise to the surface before he’s soothing the wound with his tongue, staring up at you through a half-lidded gaze, prowling for more. He dips lower, falling to his knees as he pulls you toward the end of the table, ass hanging near the edge as his teeth sink into your thigh, near the swell of your cunt as you moan, fingers digging into sweaty, matted curls.

“Acacius,” You plead breathily, “I want your mouth.”

Where—it did not matter. But, Acacius fulfills that need as he licks a broad strip through your cunt, nose buried in the coarse curls, still smelling of the fresh soap he had bathed you in, taking delicate care as he washed your body, letting you slump into him, soaking him in the process. 

“Yes, that—” You respond airily, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dips inside of you, swirling your slick around on his tongue and sucking harshly at your clit, staring up at you daringly from his position beneath you, unwavering, “oh, gods above…”

Acacius chuckles below you,the sound vibrating against your cunt as your moans increase rapidly, thick fingers dipping inside your pulsating core, “This high—it feels like—”

He rises to press a kiss against your stomach, climbing, tongue licking over your belly button and between your breasts, “—like…” He encourages, “come on, my lady, do not sell out on me now,”

“Like a battle high,” You admit with a faint laugh, “though, different, but….”

He understands, driven by unbridled need, uncapped adrenaline. 

“Well, vae victis,” He taunts, “now—come here,” He squeezes at your hips and pulls you to him, his cock stiff, throbbing  between your legs before he is twisting and spinning you around, feet planting against the ground as he bends you over, fisting himself tight as he rubs his thick cock head between your folds, watching as your wetness coats him, sinking into your fluttering hole with little resistance, a sweet cacophony of noises releasing from your throat as you grip onto nothing, hand curling into a fist as you moan, open-mouthed and shameless.

“Harder,” You beg, forcing the word out between thrusts, blunt fingernails clawing at your hips, attempting to pull you in closer despite your proximity, as if he could consume and even that wouldn’t be enough, “Acacius, please.”

It was like instinct, his hand sliding up the back of your thigh to lift your leg up, pinning it up—up, until you feel the ache in your sore muscles as he holds you in place with a fist between the bend of your knee, heaving breaths at your neck as he fucks you into the hard surface of the table.

It was a pain you would feel in your bones, that would carry with you into the morning, marks that would last for longer, a remnant of this moment, the mess of blood smearing on your own skin as he melts against you, forehead resting against your shoulder as his gaze follows the movement of his hips, slow but powered thrusts that drilled into you, clawing at his skin to leave your own bruises. The hand that brushes against your core is your ultimate demise, feeling breathless as your orgasm pulls you under, muffled sobs into your fist as you bite down, fearful that it might draw attention. Though, Acacius seems preoccupied, still.

His hand seeks your neck, digging in as he pulled you up, “To your knees,” He demands softly, your body moving out a memory, dropping to the floor—though, the sight is much more tantalizing, Acacius fisting his cock tight, feral as he teeth were bared, like a man fresh from the slaughter, he comes with a deep and guttural groan, your tongue sliding against the underside of his bulbous head, thick spurts coating your tongue, his body shaking as you pull away, swallowing all that he had offered with a steady, locked gaze. He assists you upright, steadying you.

“For a man who has such a distaste for unnecessary violence, you wear it well,” It wasn’t a compliment, rather an observation, his eyes tracking your naked frame, fingertips tracing the curves of your body in admiration. 

“You are quite inspiring, Minerva,” He admits, gathering your thick dress and helping you redress in silence, tying the material around your body, “not everyone deserves mercy.”

Your smile is rare, but it is beautiful. And he wasn’t a man for such dramatics.

But, it could bring him to his knees, he thinks.

[brookediamonds]

heyy, is there any chance i could request where there's a young competitor on the iron dragons like devon/kenny's age and axel and the reader sort of take them under their wing and act like their second parents? no worries if not!

next to you | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: Taking the newest Iron Dragon student under your wing, or wings, you and Axel unknowingly adopt the newcomer creating a new title for your relationship.

Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff

(A/N: I love this!! 🥹 I hope you do too!!)

gif is not mine

"Chop, chop, let's go," you clapped your hands as you stood outside of Axel's black convertible as your mini me walked down the driveway.

Marcus rolled his eyes at your bossiness, making you quirk a brow up from under your sunglasses.

"Don't give me that look, we brought you a bagel," you hold up the brown bag that contained an everything seasoned treat.

Marcus perks up taking the bag from your hand before hopping into the backseat of Axel's car.

"Thanks, guys!" The 15 year old grins reaching into the bag for the breakfast item.

"Don't get my car dirty," Axel warns him as you fastened your seatbelt.

"He wouldn't," you frowned. "He knows better."

Axel scoffs beginning to back out of the driveway. "Right."

The sun beamed down on your skin, wind blowing softly through the flyaways from your french braided hair, as Axel drove down to the local arena of Hong Kong.

"Are you nervous about today?" You ask the young boy, turning in your seat slightly.

"Kind of," he mumbles through a mouth full of cream cheese.

"You will do fine," Axel spoke assuringly. "You've been doing very well at practice."

You nodded in agreement reaching over the console to grab at Axel's hand. Your boyfriend flips his palm up, letting your fingers slip into his before giving them a gentle squeeze.

Wordlessly, he lifts your hand, giving the back of it a soft peck in reassurance. While you two had been dating for three years already, his small gesture still sent butterflies to your stomach.

"You two are gross."

You grinned leaning over to press a long dramatic kiss to your boyfriend's cheek with a, "muah!" Making Axel smirk and Marcus groan.

"Thank god we're here," the prepubescent boy exhales as Axel pulled into the parking lot.

You rolled your eyes, the smile never leaving your face. Once you're parked, the three of you head into the building, seeing some of your teammates already there.

"Morning," your Sensei greets you as all of you pass him into the locker room.

"Good morning, sensei," the three of you respond in unison. You head into separate locker rooms, changing into your green gi’s for the tournament.

When you head back to your team, you see Zara talking with Axel and Marcus. The stands were filled with people, the environment buzzing with excitement and occasional cheers for the competitors.

"Oh look, mom and dad are here," Zara teases you as you approach them.

You stop mid-step, eyes flickering over to Axel and Marcus who looked just ask amused and stunned as you.

"Come again?" You inquire.

"Yeah, you two hover over Marcus like concerned parents. You train with him, hype him up, lecture him when he gets reckless—" Zara begins to list off examples of your actions towards the boy.

You raise your eyebrows taking everything she was saying into consideration.

"She's not wrong," Marcus pipes in as he stretched next to you all. You scratched the back of your head awkwardly. Looking over at Axel, who is also processing her words, you nudge him with your elbow.

"We do bring him breakfast a lot," you admit.

"And pick him up and take him home," Axel realizes.

You stare at Marcus, scanning his facial features when it suddenly dawns on you, "Wait… does he kinda look like us if we had kids to you?"

The three of you all suddenly began to study the boy's face when he narrows his eyes at you.

"I do not look like you two!" Marcus interrupts your unhinged thinking. "It just so happens I have your same colored eyes and am almost as tall as Axel."

You pouted dramatically walking over to him, wrapping your arms around him as he stayed still, arms by his side with a sour look on his face.

"You totally look like us!" You cooed squeezing him.

Zara bursted out laughing, Axel shaking his head at the whole ordeal.

"Please make her stop," Marcus begs looking over at your boyfriend.

"Sorry kid," Axel shrugs with his arms crossed.

"Alright," you sighed releasing your hold walking over to Axel's side, nudging him playfully. "Come on, dad, let’s get our kid ready for his match."

"Not funny," Axel mutters, but the smirk on his face betrays him.

The tournament soon began, the competition starting off with the kata category soon transitioning to the one on one's between males and females.

You and Axel easily dominated your age division, earning The Iron Dragons 1st place for Seniors. Marcus was in the Junior division, fighting well but struggling when it came down to the finals for the boys.

Marcus is a headstrong adolescent, he fights with integrity and struggles to accept defeat when a mistake is made. He reminded you a lot of yourself when it came to dwelling on your loses and reminded you of Axel when he fought with everything he has inside of him.

When Marcus joined your dojo, you quickly took notice to his hard working demeanor and love for the sport that you didn't want Sensei Wolf to corrupt that innocence and passion he held.

So you took him under your wing, you and Axel. You gave him the words of encouragement and assurance your Sensei never had to offer.

You didn't want him to resent the sport like you and Axel were starting to when you were Marcus's age. Together you and Axel kept each other afloat, and stood by each others side when things got too hard, mentally and physically.

And you would be sure to do the same for the young boy that stood defeated on the mat from the loss that just occurred.

Marcus walked off the mat, holding his head held high like you taught him to if this should happen. Your Sensei stood with his arms crossed, prepared to release his wrath for losing when Axel stepped in front of him.

"What did you do wrong?" Axel asked, his voice steady but firm.

Marcus, still catching his breath, glanced between Axel and Sensei Wolf before answering. "I dropped my guard after the second counter," he admitted, jaw tight. "I thought I had him, but I hesitated."

Axel nodded, his expression unreadable. "And what should you have done?"

"Stayed on him. Followed through instead of waiting."

"Exactly," Axel said, crossing his arms. "Don't hesitate, you go for it, something we can work on, right?"

Marcus exhaled slowly, nodding. "I can fix it."

"Good." Axel nodded before finally turning to Sensei Wolf, who had remained silent, watching the exchange with narrowed eyes.

For a moment, it seemed like he might object, might force his authority back into the situation. But then, without a word, he stepped back.

You let out a quiet breath, glancing at Axel, sighed in relief as well.

"You okay?" You ask quietly walking up to the defeated boy.

Marcus nods, still holding his tall stance, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands remain clenched at his sides. 

"You fought well," you say lightheartedly. "You made one mistake, and you already know what it was. That means you’re learning."

Marcus exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Learning doesn’t win matches."

"Well, no," you agree. "But it does make you better for the next one."

Marcus looks down at your optimistic smile, feeling a certain amount of weight lift from his chest.

"You're gonna win the next one," you state reaching out to squeeze his arm.

"I'm gonna win the next one," Marcus repeats after you.

"Exactly," you state. Axel can't help the small smile tugging at his lips when you give your words of encouragement.

Marcus huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. "Wow," he mutters. "You two really are my parents."

You and Axel glance over at each other, smiles forming on your faces.

"Yeah well, someone's gotta look out for you," you tease the fifteen year old. He snorts, shaking his head before walking off to join the rest of the team.

As you watched Marcus rejoin the team, you feel Axel’s hand brush against yours before he takes it fully, his thumb running absentmindedly over your knuckles making you look up at him.

"You really have a way with him," Axel says lowly, eyes softened.

"And you don't?" You tease, turning to face him.

"I just tell him what he did wrong," he shrugs nonchalantly. "You actually make him believe he can do better."

You reach for his other free hand, intertwining your fingers together.

"We make him believe he can do better," you correct him. Axel huffs a quiet laugh, squeezing your hands.

"Guess we make good parents,'" He smirks down at you. You feel your heart flutter in your chest, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

"Agreed," you finish before standing up on your tippy-toes to brush your lips against his. Before Axel can kiss you again, Zara's whistle echoes through out the arena.

"Alright, mom and dad, quit making heart eyes and get over here!" She calls out to you guys.

Axel groans making you chuckle under your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to where your team stood.

"She's never gonna let us live that down, you know that right?" You smile glancing up at Axel as he sighs dramatically.

"I know," he mutters, shaking his head. "But at least we’re the cool parents."

You laugh, leaning into his side as you approach the team. You squeeze Axel’s hand one last time before letting go, stepping into place with your team.

No matter what happened next, one thing was certain: Marcus would always have you two in his corner. And he was grateful for that.

-----------------------------------------------------

(a/n: Happy Valentine's Day! ❤️ Axel for sure would drive an all black vintage 1969 Camaro, I don't make the rules. Not 100% I'll have a V-Day one shot, but gonna try my best to make one up, I'm thinking it's gonna be with the sunshine axel x grumpy reader trope. Still working on other requests btw!!)

[superectojazzmage]

Among my mounting bad/unsure feelings about Arcane season two is a feeling of... I don't know, weirded outness over how Jinx is being handled. Just the way they seem to almost be trying to pretend like she wasn't depicted in season one as basically a sadistic, bloodthirsty, would-be school shooter who did shit like shooting animals for fun or blowing up buildings to try and impress her dad.

Like, the narrative of this season seems to be going out of it's way to handle her with kids gloves in a way that season one didn't, treating her as if she's just a "lol so quirky" kind of character or even a genuine revolutionary hero to be idolized as Zaun's leader compared to season one's "oh this lady is genuinely dangerously unstable and a threat to everyone around her". She's not treated as a villain - albeit a tragic one - she's treated like she's a flawed hero at worst.

Hell, I mean, you see it with the whole plot of Zaun following Jinx as a symbol of revolt. Because all throughout season one, Jinx's relationship with Zaun in even the most charitable light amounted to everyone except Silco being fucking TERRIFIED of her or outright hating her guts, and with good reason as she did nothing but make everyone's situations worse by being a mood-swinging killer who attacks anyone and anything around her at the slightest provocation and constantly goes into violent, hallucinatory fugue states at even the most mild of stresses. But than she blows up the council and suddenly everyone is literally equating her with a god worshiped in Zaun? Imagine if you saw people claiming the Unabomber was the Second Coming and you get an idea of how bizarre that is.

Everyone regarded Jinx as a walking bomb in season one. Even a lot of Silco's allies - from Sevika to Marcus - spent said first season saying Jinx was out-of-control and that killing her would be doing Silco a favor, and that was objectively true, especially considering Jinx ends up directly murdering Silco in yet another fit of blind rage and panic. Now we get season two and anyone who seriously opposes Jinx seems to be treated like either a jerk or a burgeoning extremist for not liking a terrorist who kills people because the voices in her head say to do it, and some people who despised Jinx in season like Sevika now act like they're just mildly annoyed by her childishness and weird behavior (something else that was played in a very creepy light in s1, but now seems treated like it's harmless).

Her crimes from season one and even this season are kinda brushed over; there's tepid acknowledgment that she killed Caitlyn's mom and two other councilors, but that's it and nobody really dwells on the fact that she basically did fantasy 9/11. And likewise, Caitlyn is treated as if she's becoming a violent zealot for shooting at Jinx while Isha is near, but nobody so much as comments on Jinx outright murdering numerous children through Grey-bombing Piltover or literally shooting a teenage Firelight in the back in season one just because she looked like Vi.

Speaking of Isha, I hate to say it, but she really does feel like she has no reason for existing beyond making Jinx look better. No themes of Jinx perpetuating the kind of abuse Silco inflicted on her by raising to be the monster she is, no acknowledgment of how dangerous somebody like Jinx would be as a mother, no questioning of the ethics of Jinx's actions, and Isha watching Jinx murder people is framed in a silly, comedic light compared to season one's blunt depiction of how Powder being exposed to violence from a young age warps her. Isha throws straight KILLS HERSELF via suicide bombing and it's framed as a heroic, beautiful act and not a horrific sight of a child being so radicalized by the terrorist that raised her that she thinks killing others and eve herself "for the cause" is good. The series dangles her and Jinx being friendly with each other in front of you like a parent jangling car keys at an infant. "Oooh look at Jinx and Isha dancing and dying their hair haha it's so cute don't think about bad things, Jinx is nice now!".

I just honestly am not a fan of this "Harley Quinnification" of Jinx after season one went out of it's way to tear down that kind of character. Such a big part of Jinx's portrayal there was ripping apart the idea of this manic pixie terrorist who is Totes Awesomes and only hurts bad guys as part of it's larger themes of the ugliness of violence and the dangers of valorizing it. And I really feel like we're losing that. Not even just with Jinx, but with Zaun as a whole, this season feels like it's going full "everything is Piltover's fault, Zaun didn't do nothing wrong, those Piltover babies should just shut up and let themselves be attacked for being big stupid oppressor doodoo heads!!!!" which feels very counterproductive to the series' messages and like frankly shit writing.

[archangeldyke-all]

Omg fucking stupid thing I thought of but like Sevika with a reader who is literally her number one apologist

Oh she got into deep shit? “I saw nothing actually” <— (quite literally was there)

Oh she murdered a man? “I mean.. did we ever take time to consider why she killed them? I mean, they could have looked at her wrong! I mean, I would if I were her too—“

Oh Sevika was being an asshole? “So? And I was backing her up 😇🫶🏼”

this is so me, she'd chop finn's head clean off in front of me and i'd be like 'babe ur so silly! omg u have blood on ur arm!! lemme clean it for u...'

men and minors dni

sevika knows you're loyal to her.

in the five years you've been together, sevika's never once worried about your eyes wandering or you sneaking around on her.

but it's more than that.

you ride or die for sevika.

she realizes this the first time she's home to watch you talk to an enforcer.

sevika and silco's deal with marcus means they get away with most their dealings in the undercity-- but from time to time, to avoid questions, marcus will have to send a rookie down to the undercity to 'investigate.'

usually, the kid will snoop around for half a day, before high-tailing it right back up to piltover.

sometimes-- they actually try to investigate some of the evidence.

and, once or twice a year, one of the rookies will even have big enough balls to try to question sevika herself.

she's on the couch reading when someone knocks on your door. she's on high alert as she watches you open the door, her hackles rising when she sees the uniform standing on your front stoop.

"sorry to bother you so late at night, miss, is this the residence of a 'sevika'?" the enforcer asks.

sevika huffs, rolling her eyes and biting back her annoyed groan. she's in no fucking mood to deal with this. she's about to haul herself off the couch and take over for you, when you speak again.

"who?" you ask.

sevika blinks-- unsure if she heard you correctly.

"s-sevika?" the man tries again.

"sevika? i've never heard of a 'sevika' living in this neighborhood..." you say. sevika realizes what you're up to, and a smile breaks across her face. "do you mean savannah? there's a savannah a few blocks south, she owns a barbershop off third..." you suggest.

the rookie studies you for a second, and you just blink up at him innocently.

sevika has to smack a hand over her mouth when the idiot buys your act, sighing and slumping before turning around to leave your front stoop. "thank you for your time ma'am. sorry again for bothering you so late."

"put your gas mask on, young man, you'll hurt your lungs down here!" you call after him, waving sweetly as you watch him wander down the street.

you grunt and roll your eyes, your sweet smile dropping the moment he turns the corner, before you turn around and walk back inside your home, slamming and locking the door behind you.

sevika tackles you to the ground, kissing you fiercely. you burst into giggles. "what's this for?" you ask.

sevika can't stop laughing against your lips. "you're so amazing." she giggles. you just huff and roll your eyes.

"thought i'd turn you in?" you ask. sevika shakes her head.

"no-- didn't think you'd lie to a cop for me though."

you blink up at her, suddenly serious, and sevika's heart swells. "sevika. i'd do anything for you."

sevika has to hide her flustered face against your shoulder at this.

over the years, she realizes how much you meant the words.

you come home one night and find her panicking, a dead body in your living room blood soaked into her skin and clothes. you just blink, take a deep breath, and snap into action.

sevika watches in a daze as you gently guide her to sit on the couch, kissing her and calming her down as you strip her of her bloody clothes and toss them ontop of the dead man in the middle of your home.

you don't even ask her questions. you just gently guide her to the bathroom, and treat her like she's just got a cold, or something.

"you're so pretty." you whisper as you wash her clean.

you dress her in her jammies and put her to bed.

sevika stays awake, listening to you call ran and silco over, and then listening to the three of you clean up the mess for the rest of the night.

when you crawl into bed beside her at the end of the night, smelling vaguely of fire and gasoline and bleach-- sevika turns onto her side and grabs your hand.

"you okay, my love?" you whisper.

"will you marry me?" sevika asks.

you burst into giggles and agree, kissing sevika sweetly before dragging her onto your chest and scratching her scalp as she falls asleep.

it's not even the serious shit that you back her up on either. it's the dumb, petty shit too.

you can be sitting on her lap during a game of cards; muffling your giggles against her shoulder when sevika cheats by hiding a few of her cards one second, and the next you're swearing on your grandmother's life that sevika's never cheated during a game when one of her opponent's accuses her of hiding cards.

you hear her voice rise a bit when she gets in an argument with a goon, and you're by her side at lightspeed, glaring at whoever dared to question her authority, cracking your knuckles to back up her threats. when the goon stumbles away, nearly crying in fear, sevika turns to you with a guilty look.

"what?" you ask.

"i realized halfway through that i was yelling at the wrong kid... they all wear the same grungy eyeliner-- i can't tell these fuckers apart." she admits.

you burst into giggles and pull her in for a hug, and sevika finds out years later that you ended up tracking down the kid you'd both threatened and buying him dinner to apologize.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

[chefkids]

What do you think of the s3 episode titles and synopsis? (Spoilers from the bear subreddit) because I'm nervous seeing it especially with the episode 9 (which is alluding to carmy apologizing to claire?) And the last episode claire is his forever? Sorry, I'm just panicking.

I think the first episode will just be about Carmy getting out of the fridge and then jump right into the funeral.

This will be about them going back to the kitchen, Carmy setting up his non negotiable list and proposing a marriage partnership agreement to Syd.

This is just going to be their incredible dysfunctional toxic workplace. Everyone is going to be so sick of them.

Marcus gets his groove back. Maybe Luca comes over this ep? I think Marcus is going to prove to be the only stable and consistent member actually putting out good creative dishes meanwhile Syd and Carmy spiral.

This actually about me. I'm children. I'm chefkids. I think it's about money, Unc treating everyone like they're stupid kids burning through his pockets. Which they kind of are. I think it's also about the responsibility of having a million people to take care of with the staff. Mom and Dad (Syd and Carmy) are gonna have to step up for their kids. Also about the stars and the odds of getting them with how their reviews have been going.

I think this is going to be a flashback episode of what happened after Fishes, Mikey telling Carmy he needs to leave and cutting him off for The Beef, and Carmy going to New York and beginning his toxic path.

By this point Sydney is going to be so sick of Carmy and his rules and the system. She's going to meet the CDC of Ever and start to seriously consider a life outside of The Bear.

I think by this will be mostly about Nat and her baby, although I do think she would have given birth by this point. But I also think this could be when Fak tries to bring Claire back because he think she can fix him and stop his spiral. I think Richie is going to force Carmy to talk to Claire here.

This going to be when Carmy realizes how bad he has been fucking up and tries to fix things with Sydney. He knows she is considering leaving and that other people want her. And I think he'll also see his mom again and apologize for not being there when Mikey died and I think Donna will apologize to him for everything she's ever done.

Sydney is going to have to choose between The Bear and Ever. Carmy will be have to make a final plea for her. I think she will pick him, and I think he will tell her how he feels about her and that he was just trying to do everything for her because he loves her.

[freedelusionshere]

Hi!! Love your posts. I would love to hear about your S4 predictions!!

They change on a daily/weekly basis, but I'll try!

Semi-rational predictions:

Syd doesn't leave The Bear and Carmy apologizes and changes his behavior, treating her like a real partner. The reason they're in the situation they are is that Carmy is trying to lead in areas he's not good at. All the elements for success are there, Carmy has self-sabotaged, and no one has really stood up to him and Syd will.

We learn about Syd's past and why she's so reluctant to cross personal/professional lines and why she feels like she's had to be so independent and why she did Sheridan Road by herself. Remember, Emmanuel loves her but hasn't really supported her dream as a viable career, and suggests she work at the airport like her cousin, meaning, their extended family likely feels the same way.

I'm guessing Syd grew up with her mother in the kitchen or a culinary influencer, a social activist in the community, and those are some of her fondest memories she has as a child before she passed which Syd has taken on as part of her legacy.

Cicero tries to burn down The Bear (the stuff he was sneaking in in S3) to give the kids the insurance money since he's going to bail on them and wants to save face, and it fails. It also puts him out of the picture of influencing them going forward, and they have to find another investor.

Donna tries to tell Syd at Tiff's wedding to run far away from The Beef like she did (aka Carmy is not really your family, he bailed on me, his own flesh and blood), and it backfires on Donna, because Carmy is willing to change for Syd and not her. Donna and Carmy hash it out and Carmy confronts his mom and tells her Syd is off-limits and he will choose The Bear over family-family any day, so don't test him, and that this is what he wants and for her to stop trying to meddle and treat him like an adult.

Syd and Carmy finally collaborate on a menu/dish, and it's amazing and gets rave reviews, and is a perfect reflection of them together. (I don't really care if they ever get a star, TBH, because Syd is Carmy's star.)

Marcus and Luca get together and Marcus moves to Copenhagen or Luca moves to Chicago (his sister is here) and they open a bakery together that wins awards.

Shipper lens predictions:

We find out Carmy signed Syd's apartment lease. We know her dad didn't and it's why he compares the apartment to the partnership agreement and makes digs, because he knows it's Carmy, and he already suspects Syd likes Carmy as more than a business partner and knows that Carmy will go very far to back Syd's ambitions. Which is part of why Syd is so into Carmy, because no one has done that for her before. Carmy also meets Emmanuel in S4 who goes hard on him at first for being unable to provide financially for his daughter and then comes around when he realizes how devoted Carmy is to her. Carmy also might have some money socked away for a moment such as this, despite being bad at math; Cousin Michelle connections, etc.

Carmy tries to apologize to Claire, but Claire thinks Syd is who he was talking to when he was trapped inside the walk-in, and that he never really was himself with her (which is true, because she made him uneasy) and Syd is his work-wife and for him to go fuck himself. She will try to embarrass him at the wedding as payback since she was already doing that almost the minute she left Friends & Family (which Ted repeats) and lied to Tiff about him. Neil confesses his love to Claire and apologizes for meddling.

Donna brings Lee to Tiff's wedding which causes Donna and Carmy hash it out and he finds out Lee is his birth father. This leads to a long conversation about how Donna isn't a person he can trust emotionally and explains why they all babied him, because they had a secret and felt guilty but didn't want him to know. The mystery of the missing/dead Berzatto dad is revealed.

Carmy and Syd have sex on top of a table at some point, maybe in the restaurant after hours. After a reveal about her eating the blood orange hamachi heart-on-a-plate dish, and that Carmy remembered her from the James Beard Award he won for Rising Star which she attended while she was at CIA, or she saw him at The Beef when she was a kid. The basic idea is some magic realism here, that they've run into each other before she showed up at The Beef, and they have always somehow or another been connected and in each other's lives and always will be.

[shrimpyjackal]

now I'm even more curious on how angela's childhood went

Oh! Nothing much!

tw: kinda themes of eating disorders, bad parenting, and bullying, i`ll try not to talk to deeply abt it, and go soft /i hate these themes and can relate/ but yea, just in case

She...Just got unlucky with friends here, where her creativity wasnt really appreciated, especially on holidays ( i have a hc that Swap!Angela liked using all unconventional stuff she could find in her way of expressing herself, and that looked cool, but she was in the wrong place to show )^: ), yeah, girl got a very small group of friends, and even they arent that nice, her teachers treated her better smh- and after one b-day she got the nickname "Two bits". What a friendly nickname!

Bad parenting there(not physical tho), no one wants to have a daugher that didnt get only 2 points for perfect score on the test.. Of impolite and wont finish eating the dish your friends cooked, just cause "The way she cooks is gross, i think she sneezed on the fish".

...And her tutor said: "Why would you eat so much anyway, girl, you dont look like youll need the food for 2 years" , so the prev point kinda more complex. So girl kinda became a picky eater. We dont talk abt guilty midnight-snacking on "bad" food in childhood, girl was SO ashamed when her mom found out she ate some cheese

The tutor was fired after parents questioned Angela abt wrapping paper from some burger and pressured kid to tell `em abt it-

Thanks to the childhood Angela now have a weird qurk where she NEEDS to know the price of your gift in events, so bring the receipt too(unless its from da family. Marcus is a perfectionist and very picky, Ant is always asks before gifting, so she knows in advance, and Hazel is a small bean & all her presents at that age are important)

[thewistlingbadger]

Do I think Vi is a good sister to Jinx? Not really. Do I think Vi is a bad sister to Jinx? Also not really. Me personally, I do dislike Vi for some of the ways she treats Jinx but I honestly don't see the point in arguing whether or not she is a good or bad sister. I don't see how the nature of her relationship is something worth judging.

As I thought about this last night it made me realize that in this fandom, we judge characters not only by their actions and beliefs but also on their relationships with others and I wanted to explore this.

1. Who?

I noticed that not all characters are judged for their relationships. For some characters it's never even brought up. The main characters that get judged the most for their relationships are Vi, Vander, and Silco. What's special about these three is that their familial relationship is what gets them either the most love or the most hate. It is directly tied to if they are liked or not. For example one of the main reasons people dislike Silco is his relationship with Jinx and one of the main reasons people like Vander is his relationship with Vi. There have been several debates on whether or not Silco is a good dad and whether or not Vander is a good dad. I think it's interesting that we're ONLY concerned with these two and we let all the other parents slide. I've seen no debates on whether Cassandra or Tobias were good parents to Caitlyn. No one has asked if Marcus is a good dad or not. No one seems interested in Singed being a parent. No one talks about Ximena Talis's parenting. I've seen some talk about Ambessa as a parent but nearly not enough.

This could be because all of these characters are minor characters and we don't spend much time getting to know them as people OR as parents. But still I feel like they should be examined as Silco and Vander are. Why is it that only some parents are to be judged? Or rather, why does the parenting of a few characters greatly impact their image in the fandom? Just to give a point of reference, Marcus is viewed negatively in the fandom, Cassandra is viewed neutrally in the fandom, Singed is viewed negatively in the fandom, and their parenthood is NOT the main reason they've received the treatment they've received.

2. Definition

The fandom judges Silco and Vander for being good/bad dads but the fandom doesn't collectively share a definition for what a good or bad dad is. Does being a good parent mean that your children are provided for? If it does, then Vander is a good dad because all his kids have food on the table, clothes on their backs, and a roof over their heads. Does being a good parent mean discipling your children? If so, then Cassandra is a good parent because of her roughness with Caitlyn's decisions. Does being a good parent mean being gentle and nurturing to your children? If it does, then Silco is a good dad for handling Jinx the way he does. Does being a good parent mean something else, some other factor or trait i haven't described? Does being a good parent mean that you are all of these things in one? If so, then neither Silco, Vander, or Cassandra are good parents.

The point I'm making is that being seen as a good/bad parent is entirely subjective. It is based on one's own opinion and experience with parents in their history. There is no definition for being a good parent because everyone sees it differently, and the same can be said the other way around. For some people, a bad parent is a parent who beats their children. For others, a bad parent is a parent who isn't emotionally present for their children. I don't think these characters should be judged for the nature of their relationships with their children. I think they should be judged on their actions within that relationship and how they treat their children. For example we see Vander be soft and caring towards the girls but the boys don't receive that treatment. Both of those attitudes are worth calling out.

3. Blame

What makes this even more curious to me is that one certain perspectives are being judged. The question is always is "Silco a good dad?" and it's never "Is Jinx a good daughter?". It's always "Is Vi a good sister?" And never "is Jinx?" That might be an odd thing to say, it might be a thing that has some controversial implications but I think it's worth pointing out anyway. I'm not saying that the opposite party should be judged just as harshly I'm just pointing out we only ever seem to care about one side in the relationship and we never talk about the other side. And again, if we were to judge the children in this example we would run into the same problem with the parents: there is no definition for being a good child it is subjective.

4. Why?

At the top of this post, I said "this fandom" and truly it isn't just this fandom, it is other fandoms as well, it is occasionally real life as well, but it is so rampant in this fandom. We've been having the same exact conversations since 2021, and just when you think we're past it you'll see another post providing more evidence and commentary, rehashing shit that should have been hashed eons ago. I'm not trying to undermine the importance of being a good sister or father, I'm just saying I don't see why our perceptions of these characters hinges on that, when in real life we don't really judge people like this. We'll judge parents, yeah, but I don't think siblings are as judged as parents.

Why is it so important that Vi is a good sister? Why does it even matter? And better yet, let me ask you a real question: Would Vi be judged as much for her relationship with Jinx if Vi and Jinx were the same age? Because I think a lot of the fandom's perception of Vi and Jinx has to do with their age difference.

If there's one thing you take away from this post, let it be this: Vi is simultaneously a good and bad sister. Vander is simultaneously a good and bad father. Silco is simultaneously a good and bad father. They are all equal amounts of both because it is entirely up to YOU to make the decision of whether or not they are good.

If you see someone say Vi is a bad sister, they aren't wrong. If you see someone say she's a good sister, they also aren't wrong. If you see someone saying Silco is a bad dad, they aren't wrong. If you see someone say Silco is a good dad, they aren't wrong. If you see someone say Vander is a bad dad, they aren't wrong. If you see someone say Vander is a good dad, they aren't wrong.

Ultimately there are things that these three did right and things they did wrong, and we have to honor both of those. Just because Silco is a "good dad" doesn't mean he didn't do bad things in his relationship. Just because Silco is a "bad dad" doesn't mean he didn't do good things in his relationship. This applies to the others as well. There are positives and negatives in all of these relationships. For some people the positives will outweigh the negatives and for others the negatives will outweigh the positives. What's most important, in my opinion, is that we do not judge these characters solely of their relationships but that we judge the actions they took in those relationships, the attitudes they had, the affects they had, etc.

[dr-hachiware]

Why Connor had the best storyline in DBH:

Connor is naive, but he is also intelligent, inquisitive and competent at his job. He is a fast learner.

This combination of intelligence and naivety is not seen much in characters who are grown men. They are typically reserved for the coming of age story, or the female characters written by a man. Conversely, these traits in Connor are treated initially as ridiculous by Hank, but once Hank gets to know Connor, he realizes who Connor is as a person. Hank encourages Connor to embrace these parts of himself, instead of diminish them.

Connor should be happy with maintaining the status quo because it is "the right thing to do". It will appease others and make everything work.

From the get go however, Connor is immediately rejected by the person he was made to work with and it simply does not compute.

The person for whom Connor has a purpose rejects him but instead of following the protocol, his s desire for knowledge and to truly help others overrides any rules put in place by his programming. (Why doesn't he like me, how can I make him accept me? I was made to work alongside him!! I don't understand!!!!) Connor also wants so badly to do the right thing. He wants to be correct! He seeks to please others and must fight down his feelings of wanting to know and understand further.

Connor is not encouraged to become like Hank, the stoic and hardened archetype that makes most male leads, but is encouraged to be Connor.

As he deviates Connor avoids decisions. Hank doesn't allow this. Hank forces Connor to make his own choices so he can grow. Forced to be alone, thinking and feeling for himself. He has quirks, supposedly in-designed at his introduction, but like all men and all machines, each have their own quirks that are not accounted for. Connor can't help himself when a problem arises,,, he is made to be the "ultimate problem solver" bot. If something is wrong or he doesn't understand something he will go to the ends of the earth to figure it out.

Hank sees this robot as a real person, despite the fact that they both are supposed to fill a particular role and not deviate from it in society.

Hank has seen the way his behaviors have failed him in the past and left him isolated, without his family, his child. Connor is a fresh start for Hank. Their relationship is allegorical for breaking the cycle of toxic 'masculine' behavior. Instead of teaching him to suffer in silence and to remain unfeeling, Hank teaches Connor to be a Person. To be A Good Person.

It is easy to imagine how Connor's story would progress after the end of the game, but for Marcus? And for Kara? One's story was far too ambitious to tell well in such a short game, and the other was far too simple.

Marcus literally went from caring for one person to hating everyone to nothing???? Kara went from being a nanny/maid to adopting the child with another guy who can 'protect her' because the kid's dad was abusive? Their stories were literally about disconnecting from humanity... Connor was the only one who made a real meaningful connection with a real person!!!

[yannisdesk]

Arcane: Is it Copaganda?

I talked about this a bit on twitter, but I will type it up here and elaborate (we all know twt is not the place for longform content anyway). My main argument for Arcane being copaganda isn't due to the existence of Caitvi being Enforcers in season 2, it mainly has to do with Marcus, and how his contribution to the narrative is handled.

Arcane makes it pretty clear from the jump that Marcus is corrupt; he was more than willing to use excessive force against Zaunites who posed no threat to him early in Act 1, foregoes due process to strike a deal with an up and coming crime lord to take down four kids, one of which is possibly an age that's not even in the double-digits, then kidnaps a 15 year-old Vi, and throws her into Stillwater, a notoriously horrifying prison, indefinitely (life sentence) with no trial or records - all done so he could allegedly keep her "safe" (more on this later).

Marcus is then showed not only continuing to uphold his end of the deal with Silco, which includes allowing shimmer to spread throughout the Undercity, but also directly benefitting from it, becoming sheriff in seven years or less. He shows some resentment over this, but nothing to the point of actually going out of his way to do the right thing or change his situation. He dies, in a show of overt police brutality, trying to kill Caitlyn and Ekko for trying to negotiate peace for Zaun and justice for Silco's actions.

And what happens afterwards in regards to the greater implications this could have for the narrative addressing state violence and corruption, and how it's maintained through organizations like law enforcement? Absolutely nothing.

You would think Marcus, the literal sheriff, being involved in high-level conspiracy, corruption, and who knows what else, would be a wakeup call to people like Caitlyn who are Enforcers but are supposedly in it for altruistic reasons; and also possibly to the council and Piltover overall - "Hey, there's a serious issue with our law enforcement if the sheriff of all people could turn out like that. Maybe we should clean house?" I'm no fool, I didn't expect Arcane to do a police abolishment plotline because that would be a one-way ticket to getting review bombed by rabid "anti-woke" dudebros who never cared about the show anyway; but the Enforcers are not challenged or elaborated on in the slightest in season 2, if anything they get worse.

Caitlyn knows that Marcus, her boss, was corrupt, imprisoned her girlfriend indefinitely when she was just a teenager, and got away with it Scott-free. Had it not been for Jinx's bridge attack in S1E7, Marcus would've killed her, Ekko, and Vi who'd ran back to try and save them. And he more than likely would've gotten away with that too. But we never see her ponder this at all, not even in season 1.

We're shown Enforcers being horrible throughout first season. The warden, who is an Enforcer, brags about how many times he's brutalized Vi. We're shown Enforcers slamming a Zaunite through glass windows for responding with being called a slur with spitting on their boots, we're shown in the "Enemy" music video that Enforcers slammed young Vi and Powder against gates for random searches and how humiliating that is.

But come season 2? All of that is washed away. I thought they were going to do something with how willing the Enforcers were to use the Grey, but no, not even that's addressed after Act 1. No one from Caitlyn's strike team ever faces consequences for that. Maddie dies because she betrayed Caitlyn, and Loris is killed in the midst of battle against Noxus, but neither of those scenarios has anything to do with their willingness to comply with wielding gas weaponry against an entire population of people. Maddie spying on Caitlyn for Ambessa is treated as a greater crime than her actions in Zaun. Vi has the audacity of going around calling other people traitors as if she also did not comply and defend it. Same goes for Caitlyn, Loris, and Steb.

And as for the rest of season 2, we get glimpses of the Enforcers rounding up Zaunites and participating in martial law, which was brutal on the Undercity, but again, it's never given any narrative weight the way it was in season 1. Come time for the main characters to fight off the new Big Bad™️(Ambessa + Noxus and Viktor) all of a sudden the Enforcers are shown mostly in positive or humorous lights. Gert, who has spent most of season 2 rebelling against them because of their heightened tyranny under Caitlyn, is all of a sudden willing to join them and die wearing their uniform just because one of them behaved like a human for half-a-second. The show ends with Caitlyn and Vi being active members on the force, and that's where it ends.

I believe Marcus is mentioned possibly once in act 1 of season 2 (I'm not rewatching to confirm), but other than that his entire influence is dropped, which is just strange and unrealistic, and is a lost opportunity for Arcane to address this topic beyond the surface. You would think someone like Caitlyn or even Vi, or hell, anyone would at least attempt to use his story as inspiration for a reformist angle, but no, we didn't even get that. Marcus is relegated to a "one bad apple" cliche, which is when cops who get caught up with corruption or brutality are treated as outliers within the system, not reflections of the systems deeper problems; which you'd think with Marcus, being the sheriff, would mean the writers would take advantage of that, but no they don't. The other half to that "one bad apple" saying is "spoils the whole bunch" - there were definitely plenty of Enforcers who were either complicit, just like him, or even worse. But the writers abolished that for whatever reason and gave us this whitewashed slop of a plot with the Enforcers which was equal parts insulting and dissatisfactory. Treating Marcus as "one bad apple" is copaganda, full stop, and that affected the rest of the story. The Enforcers have not even attempted to reform at all; they've just wrecked even more havoc on Zaun and got away with it, and characters who'd you would expect to have something to say about that don't because the writers desperately want you to forget about this aspect of the story because it clashes with their "the devil you know"-centric finale.

[drinkabletoxicdishsoap]

drop ur antony headcanons pls

Thank you for asking me anon!!! I love to share my headcanons about him he’s so silly!!

1. I feel like more than half of his closet is just graphic tees/t-shirts. That’s like the only kind of shirt he wears.

2. For his crush on Dejah, he acts like a stuttering and complete mess of front of her. Super awkward and everything. But she doesn’t mind! I think she finds it and him very sweet. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched my little pony friendship is magic, but they give me Shining Armor x Cadence vibes.

3. I’d like to think he played an instrument as a kid. He was probably a band kid.

4. Whenever he went to zoos as a kid or even now, he rushes to the reptile section. It’s most likely for him to look at iguanas since he’s in the iguana society. Though I feel like he loves every single kind of reptile.

5. He’s the Godzilla’s movies #1 fan. Bro RUNS to the theaters whenever a new movie drops. He always cheers on Godzilla for the Godzilla vs. literal any creature or just any Godzilla movie in general.

6. Amusement park enthusiast. He absolutely LOVES any and all kinds of amusement parks. He will ride absolutely anything!! Maybe not the VERY VERY high rollercoasters but he will ride anything and everything else. He’s still a kid at heart.

7. His favorite holiday is basically any where he can spend time with his family. Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Halloween are his top ones. He loves going trick or treating with Hazel and I feel like they always had matching Halloween costumes.

8. He played some sports as a kid. I have no idea which ones but I feel like he’d be a soccer kid (maybe I’m bias because I play soccer LMAO).

9. Secretly LOVES reality tv shows. He acts like he doesn’t, but whenever Angela has it on he sits next to her and watches it. They totally gossip about it together.

10. He will do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING for Hazel. He cares so much about her.

11. Whenever the Wells Family is on a trip, he’s the one to suggest excursions and everything like that.

12. Energy drinks are his LIFE. He doesn’t drink coffee but bro will absolutely DOWN any energy drink.

13. I feel like he helps build whatever ghost hunting or paranormal investigation invention Marcus wants. He probably even helped him build the the ghost one that we see in the show! He doesn’t really get his dad’s obsession with the paranormal but he will forever cheer his dad on!

14. Since he now knows about Cosmo, Peri, and Wanda, he will guard their secret with his life for Hazel. He helps when they have a few little slips. I feel like he would get along great with Cosmo and Wanda! He definitely appreciates what they’ve done for his little sister. He tries to get along with Peri but I feel like they don’t really get along at first. You know, younger brother vs older brother. Maybe they do get along but at first, absolutely not.

15. He’s a great cook! He helps cook meals for Hazel whenever his parents are out and about.

16. He has silly little karaoke nights with Hazel :3

That’s all the headcanons I have for him <33 if I do think of more I’ll either edit the post or make a new post about it! Thank you for the ask anon!! And thank you for reading! I hope you have a great day or night :3

[artem1sc0re]

I’m bored and exams are temporarily over for me sooo (also just something whilst I work on an edit because yes I think it’s a better way to use my time)

Watch dogs characters and their favourite sweets or chocolate (except it’s based off of my own favourites)

(Lovingly discussed with my partner)

Watch Dogs 1:

Aiden Pearce - milk chocolate coins

- There’s something about the slow pacing of opening two foiled sides of a coin to eat the chocolate that makes me think he’d like them

- probably was his favourite part about Christmas as a kid; he seems like he got them in his stocking a lot of the time

Jordi Chin - strawberry pencils

- depending where you get them, the flavour/taste fluctuates. Like the way he fluctuates when it comes to choosing sides (cough cough watch dogs act 5)

- he seems like he’d like to shuffle between stores to change up the taste. Makes for easy elimination and helps him know what stores do the best pencils.

Clara Lille - raspberry ruffles

- vibes

- she’d probably be a sucker for certain types of dark chocolate

Raymond Kenney - Haribo giant strawberries

- Me when I project onto my fav characters

- I feel like frewer introduced him to them and he stayed away from them in the past but then he picked them back up and has been in love with them since

Tobias Frewer - digestives milk chocolate hobnobs

- similar to some of the other headcanons, it’s the vibe really. He definitely gives off an oatmeal kind of biscuit

- he’d probably eat it to spite those who hate it but then ends up liking them

Defalt - millions (sweets)

- the sweet sticks to you and is difficult/annoying to get out of your mouth when you chew too much. Now associate it with his character and you’ll see why I chose it /lh /j

- he seems like a gum chewer and these feel like a good substitute for him if he doesn’t have any

Nicole Pearce - Bounty (chocolate)

- I have no explanation for this one but she seems like she’d like coconut flavoured things

- was definitely one of her favourite chocolates back when she lived in Northern Ireland (assuming that they emigrated to Chicago during their teens)

Watch Dogs 2

Marcus Holloway - Cadbury marvellous creations jelly popping candy chocolate

- he really likes the jelly parts in the chocolate and finds it entertaining to just try and find them when taking a piece and feeling accomplished when he finds a jelly, feeling ecstatic when he finds more than one in the singular chocolate piece

Sitara Dhawan - sour tongue painters

- It’s the vibe of the sweet in general really that just made me instantly think ‘Sitara’; might be the whole ‘corner shop’ vibe they’ve got to them or the sour but gradually sweet taste they have

Horatio Carlin - strawberry laces

- Simple guy, simple snack. Makes sense.

Wrench & Josh Sauchak - Candy sticks

- The both of them are absolute FIENDS for them

- Wrench is the one more likely to pick a fight to try and steal them if Josh has a packet

- Wrench always gets the temporary tattoos that come with them

Watch Dogs Legion

- Dalton Wolfe - Cadbury chocolate mini rolls (specifically the ones with raspberry jam)

- he absolutely loves them and loves when there’s 10 packs on sale. Definitely brought them over to the dedsec hideout at one point but then stopped when all of them were gone in a day and he didn’t get a single one

- Sabine Brandt - Popping candy

- everyone hates it but she seems like she’d treat the popping sound like white noise

- Bagley - Liquorice allsorts

- he’s never had sweets but he’ll say his favourite is liquorice just to cause an outrage amongst the resistance

- Skye Larsen - lemon refreshers

- as much as I’d like to spread the agenda of my love for chewy sweets and just the habit chewing in general and proceeding to project that, I feel like she’d consume them in a strange way; and by that I mean swallowing it whole without chewing on it

- She probably has a strange talent outside of computers for swallowing sweets whole

- she just gives off the vibe of a refresher idk why

- Nowt - candy floss

- no character reason really because as of writing this I have not finished legion, neither have I finished her contracts. This is just based off of her vibes

- Kaitlin Lau - Haribo supermix

- is a bit of a mixed bag, with the variety of choices to choose from

- uses them as an excuse to teach herself decision making skills due to this

- seems like shed organise them based on their sweet

- Emily Child - Coca Cola flavoured tic tacs

- she’d stand on the point that tic tacs are breath refreshers and you can’t change her mind on it

- she seems like she’d like Coca Cola as a drink too

[mollysunder]

On Silco and Molatovs

I still think about how the creators of Arcane wanted the opening scene to be a young Silco throwing a molotov cocktail during the Day of Ash on the bridge. It's supposed to be implied that Silco's actions were the trigger for why that day escalated to such violence and death. But honestly, all it does is vindicate the success of Silco's leadership in Zaun.

Most of the problems Silco faces in Act 2 & 3 are practically the same challenges Vander faced, but worse. His kid blew up a building and intentionally murdered people while doing it. The operation he had his kid go on got interrupted by a rival gang of young people with the objective literally up in flames. Piltover's putting (economic) pressure on Zaun to find the culprit on the Progress Day attack. Silco also has to put up with upstarts attempting to undermine his leadership position as tensions starts to mount. In spite of all the pressures Silco faced, he was able to manuever around them all a lot better than Vander did.

Let's take Jinx's hexgem heist for the first example. One building robbed and vandalized, another building set on fire and bombed, and six enforcers killed. Yet the only enforcer that was in Zaun for that escapade was Marcus, because Marcus couldn't treat Silco like Grayson treated Vander.

When the kids accidentally blew up the Kiramman building during their heist, no one died, but enforcers were flooded into Zaun, because Grayson saw it in her capacity to do that. Even when Grayson goes to calmly speak with Vander, she's still flanked by aggressive underlings who consistently escalate tensions. Grayson, as the Sheriff Vander trusts, either can't control the enforcers in her charge or is incredibly lax with how they operate, and that's because Grayson had no incentive to be genuinely effective.

Grayson and Vander operated on knowledge where both assumed Piltover's forces had the upperhand on Zaun and could demolish them. No matter how cordial Vander and Grayson were to eachother, Grayson held the cards in that dynamic. There was nothing Vander could do if Grayson just changed her mind about keeping enforcers out of Zaun. Grayson just believed it was for the good of both cities to avoid further bloodshed (that Zaun risked) by delegating responsibility of Zaun to Vander. They manage to work together essentially through Grayson's grace, rather than Vander's own legitimacy as a leader.

Marcus however, must actually attempt restraint because both he and Silco have actual stakes in their relationship. So Marcus enters Zaun ALONE to figure out a solution with it's defacto leader, Marcus is just upset about it the whole time. Frankly that's why I think Jinx intentionally caused as much loud and obvious damage because she KNEW she would get away with it, she still kind of has (she isn't in Stillwater). Jinx has been with Silco for at least seven years, she knows he's got Marcus in bind that's only getting tighter, and knows Silco won't hesitate to throw someone (the Firelights) under the bus for it, unlike Vander.

And even when passage through the bridge is shut down and Zaunites are out in anger protesting, no one dies. Some Zaunite there literally threw a molotov cocktail at the enforcer line and yet violence on the scale of the Day of Ash didn't transpire, because Silco put them, specifically Marcus, in a position where the had to be restraint. In every aspect of Vander's leadership that's about real material gain, Silco has managed to succeed where he failed. Practically every act of aggression at Piltover under Silco's regime never saw the same level of retribution that Vander's did. Sevika chose Silco over Vander because she believed he truly was a more effective leader, and she was right! In the end, she didn't betray Silco because he easily outpaced all the other contenders.

Tldr: Whenever the writers bring up Silco's faults, sometimes it just makes him look better than his counterparts in terms of skill and effectiveness. Silco managed to get Zaun treated like a separate nation faster than Vander could have dreamed.

[davenweenie]

Things I would have done if I had created the show ‘Lab Rats’

FTM trans Chase (obvi)

Autistic Leo and Chase

ADHD Adam and Bree

Brought more focus onto why Donald Davenport was a shitty dad, maybe has character development where he realised how bad he actually was.

Douglas would still be evil but his motives would have been slightly different, he’s hiding under the guise of trying to take power over the world when he actually just wants his kids back.

Trans Douglas, hello????

Trans Douglas who used a donor to have Adam, Bree and Chase (makes more sense than him using a random AFAB person tbh)

Explore how the Rats’ bionics actually work, where they actually have their bionics, how they were implanted, if there were any failed subjects etc

Bree would originally be a tomboy who wants to explore her girlhood but has never had the chance to due to being so sheltered and only raised around boys and raised by a man

She slowly started exploring girlhood, Tasha helps by showing her media that heavily features women, they have a shopping trip where Tasha helps her pick out new outfits

Bree slowly transitions into being a more ‘girly’ girl when she discovers how much she actually enjoys doing and wearing what is traditionally considered more feminine

Chase struggling when they all integrate into the real world, he struggles with his masculinity and how the world views him since things were so much easier when it was just him, his two siblings and their pseudo father

Chase’s insane sensory issues, I’d like to believe he walks around constantly wearing a pair of noise cancelling headphones that Leo let him have

They eventually make him some bionic versions which help block out most noises since his super hearing is too strong for normal noise cancelling headphones

He looks a lil silly but they help, so he continues to wear them on days where he’s really struggling

Adam struggling in school, he cannot function well during school, he’s always frustrated in class because he just can’t retain any of the information and he zones out too much to even focus properly

Chase tries to help by tutoring him but Adam can’t focus long enough for it to have an affect

Chase researches ways to help Adam retain information and figures out that playing catch with Adam helps, the action of tossing and catching a ball occupies his hands as well as keeps his brain in gear enough to focus on the information given to him

Leo having meltdowns during the whole Marcus situation. He hates being accused of lying or accused of doing stuff that he didn’t do. He also hates people not believing him so the whole situation overwhelms him and he ends up having a meltdown practically every day.

Exploring how Trent’s bullying has affected Leo and Chase, how they’re terrified to step foot into school some days in fear of what Trent will do that day

Tasha being completely mortified at the way the Rats were raised, demanding that Donald treat them like kids rather than a science experiment

She considers divorcing him at first but she knows she needs to be there for the kids. They eventually work out their relationship and Donald begins to change he treats the Rats, he’s probably only changing because of Tasha though

Big reveal on why Donald is the way he is towards the kids, they’re not his kids and they’re his brother’s who he doesn’t have a good relationship with, he takes it out on the kids because his brother isn’t there to take his anger out on

The Rats being mad at Donald, huge argument scene where they finally stand up for themselves and tell him that having a poor relationship with his brother was no excuse to treat them the way he did, they were just kids who didn’t have any involvement in their sibling rivalry

Donald becomes a cool uncle rather than extremely strict and controlling father. Douglas becomes more like a cool dad than a cool uncle, he’s too irresponsible to have full control of the decision making so him, Donald and Tasha kinda just Co-parent.

Leo gets full bionics, not just in his leg and arm. He has to train as a student at the academy first but later becomes a teacher like Adam, Bree and Chase.

Bree and Chase still go on to be in the EF but it’s only brief while they handle the whole shapeshifter thing before they go back to the academy. Oliver, Skylar and Kaz go with them. They’re still a team that do missions together but they just live at the academy now.

This was very self indulgent, I hope you like it. Thanks for reading and I’ll probably make more of these. This was fun!

[moreespressoformydepresso]

I was thinking about my AU’s where the tributes get their medical care after all the fixing and for a while now I’ve had it in my head that most of them don’t know what good medical care actually looks like so I decided to type it out!

So it’s pretty clear the Capitol oppresses the districts and treats them like shit at every opportunity, even if it’s against their own benefits. Treating them better and helping them advance would probably lead to more productivity, better products and far lower chance of a second rebellion but it’s apparently more fun to be an evil scumbag so into the toilet we go. This probably means they don’t let the Districts have any medical care, even if keeping your workers happy is a better decision. Meanwhile, the Capitol has all this fancy medical equipment like defibrillators and oxygen masks and anesthesia and stuff. Now imagine a bunch of terrified, injured kids who do not trust anyone but each other suddenly having all these unfamiliar machines shoved in their face while people in white lab coats prepare to inject them with a needle containing heavens know what kind of weird fluid.

That’s… not gonna go over well

Predictably, the kids all freak out and while their reactions are dimmed due to the several peacekeepers with guns surrounding them, quite a few like Reaper and Coral are still putting up a fight, several others are currently having a panic attack because “Oh no they’re gonna kill us anyway” and everyone is far too tense to be given the anesthetics necessary.

So what’s the solution? Having the mentors sit with their tributes and explain what’s going on because these kids will not believe anybody else. It’s the best option right now, and it would be especially interesting if this is emergency care and thus happening in a public space somewhere so people can see that. They can see the effects of their behavior in real time as literal 12-year-olds know not to take a Capitol citizen’s word for anything.

What makes doing this so interesting to me is the possibility to explore the different levels of effectiveness in this strategy and everyone’s way of handling it. Tributes like Lucy Gray, Jessup, Lamina, and Dill would calm down and listen to what their mentors are saying, possibly asking curious questions about how all of this works in more depth. Teslee and Circ would already know the technical stuff and ask about the more hands-on kinds of treatment, because they know this is gonna happen whether they like it or not so they try to distract themselves from it with curiosity.

Meanwhile, tributes like Bobbin, Reaper, Treech and Brandy are not calmed down in the slightest. Reaper stares Clemensia down with clear distrust and only ends up unhappily letting this happen because of Dill, Bobbin is slowly starting to get angrier and angrier with every snippy comment he throws Juno’s way about all the reasons he dislikes her. Brandy looks one wrong move away from a murder (though in fairness Arachne is only just starting to crack the code on how the tributes are just kids so she wasn’t the best person to be doing this anyway) and Treech is relaxing his muscles but he isn’t calming down at all. It becomes pretty clear with the several nervous glances he’s just scared Vipsania will punish him somehow for not complying, which she could given the peacekeepers around. She has to reassure him she won’t and be far more vulnerable and honest about her inner conflict since meeting him in order to make him (very reluctantly) give her the benefit of the doubt.

Marcus may clearly dislike Sejanus, but he does trust him enough to let the medical stuff happen and Sejanus goes around to help the mentors who are struggling with calming their tributes down. You can pry these two slowly reconciling from my cold dead hands and my ghost will just come to steal it back.

I think it would show the Capitol these kids are all different people, and moreover it would show them that they’re just reacting to the way they’re being treated. They’re fully capable of trusting Capitol citizens, but as Bobbin so helpfully makes them understand: some of them don’t have any reason to. Why trust someone with your life when you couldn’t even trust them to bring you food? When it’s so obvious they just needed you for their own gain or you’ve lost so much to the Capitol already that it just isn’t worth the risk?

Idk I thought it might be fun to explore