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lazy-ahh · 1 month ago

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I DONT MEAN TO REQUEST SO MUCH STUFF IM SORRY but i’m thinkingggg. mark with a reader who works out and is muscular (maybe a little beefier than him) i wanna see him drooling though it can be mainstream or mohawk i think of them similarly

BUILD TO HOLD

pairing mark grayson x male reader

mark swears he’s strong—until you pin him to the mat with ease, muscles flexing under your shirt, and suddenly he doesn’t mind losing. not when it means getting this close.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

you’re sparring with him again. and mark’s losing. bad.

it’s not that he’s not trying—he is, he swears—but you’re just so damn strong. your muscles flex under your tight workout shirt, the fabric straining over your broad shoulders, the defined curve of your biceps, the way your chest heaves with every controlled breath. every time you block his punch, he catches a glimpse of your abs tightening beneath the damp material, and god, it’s distracting. you shove him back with a grin that’s all teeth and no mercy, your biceps bulging, veins popping along your forearms as you effortlessly overpower him. he stumbles, catching himself before he faceplants onto the mat, and you laugh—rough around the edges, a little mean, and it makes his stomach flip. his face burns, and he can’t tell if it’s from exertion or the way your sweat-slicked skin glows under the headquarters' gym lights, your body moving with a lethal grace that leaves him breathless for all the wrong reasons.

"c’mon, markus," you taunt, rolling your shoulders. "thought you were supposed to be-"

he huffs, wiping sweat off his brow, his eyes dragging helplessly over the way your shirt clings to your torso, the fabric stretched tight across your chest, the outline of your abs just visible beneath it. "shut up," he mutters, but it comes out weak, his throat dry.

you don’t. instead, you lunge, grabbing him by the waist—god, you were so much more muscular than him—and flipping him onto his back before he can even blink. the air rushes out of his lungs as he hits the mat, and then you’re straddling him, pinning his wrists above his head like it’s nothing. your thighs squeeze his hips, thick and powerful, and mark’s brain short-circuits, his pulse hammering in his ears. fuck. you’re heavy in the best way, all solid muscle and heat, and he can feel every shift of your weight, every flex of your quads as you keep him trapped beneath you.

"y’know," you murmur, leaning down, your biceps bulging as you hold him in place, "for a guy who can fly, you’re pretty easy to take down."

he should be offended. he should be scrambling to get you off. but all he can focus on is the way your biceps strain against your sleeves, the veins in your arms standing out as you tighten your grip. your chest presses against his when you shift, and christ, he can feel the hard planes of your body even through the fabric, the heat of your skin searing into him. your breath is hot against his lips, smelling faintly of mint and something dangerous, and mark’s pretty sure he’s gonna pass out—or do something really stupid, like arch up into you just to feel more of that crushing strength.

"you’re such an asshole," he breathes, but there’s no bite to it—just a shaky exhale, his pulse hammering in his throat.

you smirk, rolling your shoulders, the fabric of your shirt pulling obscenely tight across your chest. "you love it."

and god, he really, really does.

it wasn’t always like this. a year ago, you were strong—superpowers and all—but leaner, built for speed, not raw power. then you decided you wanted to look like a hero, too, and mark had to watch, helpless, as you transformed. those early mornings in the gym, sweat dripping down your neck while you grunted through deadlifts, the way your arms flexed when you adjusted your grip on the barbell. he’d pretend not to stare, but fuck, it was impossible. the first time you came back from a workout with your shirt clinging to your abs, veins snaking up your forearms, mark nearly short-circuited.

now? now you’re a nightmare—in the best way. every time you move, he notices. the way your thighs strain against your shorts when you shift your stance, the thick curve of your biceps when you cross your arms, the deep v of your hips leading down to—shit. his mouth goes dry.

you tilt your head, catching his gaze lingering, and your smirk widens. you know. heat floods his face, but he can’t stop imagining it—your hands pinning him down, your body crushing him into the mat, the way your muscles would ripple as you—

"mark." your voice is low, teasing, curling around his name like smoke. your lips tilt into that smirk of yours—the one that’s half amusement, half challenge, all sharp edges and knowing glints. sweat beads at your temple, your chest still rising and falling from the fight, and your eyes lock onto his with that same unshakable confidence. "you’re staring."

he swallows hard. yeah. yeah, he is. "can you blame me?" he mutters, voice rough, before he can stop himself. his face burns the second the words leave his mouth, but he doesn’t take them back. can’t, not when you’re looking at him like that, like you already knew exactly what he was thinking.

"well, i think that's enough training for today," you say, pushing yourself up with effortless grace. your muscles flex as you roll your shoulders, dusting off your hands before extending one toward him, palm up. your fingers are still slightly curled from the fight, knuckles faintly reddened, and your grin widens just a fraction—like you’re enjoying this, like you live for the way his breath hitches when you loom over him. "wouldn't want you to get yourself actually hurt from being... too distracted."

"i—shut up," he grumbles, but he takes your hand anyway, letting you haul him up with embarrassing ease. your grip is firm, calloused from years of fighting (you were a hero for far longer than him, having to tend to you and cheer you up as kids when you'd visit him and crumble about the expectations that the world is crushing you with), and he tries (fails) not to linger on the warmth of your skin against his. god, you’re ridiculous. strong enough to throw him across the mat without breaking a sweat, but your smile—sharp, crooked, always like you’re in on some joke he doesn’t get—that’s what really ruins him.

and you know it, too.

a memory flickers in the back of his mind—both of you as kids, sticks for swords and bed sheets tied around your necks like capes. you’d always played the hero, the reckless one who’d dive headfirst into trouble just to pull his ass out of it. "c’mon, mark," you’d grin, bloody-kneed and bright-eyed, "i got you."

some things never change.

except the roles are swapped now.

mark’s the reckless one who’s diving in front of you, shielding you from the villain’s energy blast with a grunt. the impact sends him stumbling back into you, but your arm is already around his waist, steadying him before he even hits the ground. the two of you are bruised and battered, having spent the last twenty minutes evacuating civilians while trading blows with the bastard—him taking the hits you couldn’t dodge, you covering his blind spots like second nature. it’s effortless, the way you move together. no hesitation, no missteps. just the silent understanding of two people who’ve been fighting side by side since they were kids pretending to save the world in their backyards.

you’d always had each other’s backs—when bullies tried to corner him after school, when you were both drowning in the mess of teenage hormones and high school hell, and now, here, in the middle of a battlefield where the air smells like smoke and the pavement’s cracked under your boots. some things never change.

"don’t worry," mark forces out, his voice rough as he smiles down at you in that dorky way you’ve always loved—the same one he’d give you when he’d scrape his knee as a kid and pretend it didn’t hurt. "i got you."

you laugh—bright and startled, like you can’t believe he’s pulling this shit now, of all times—and shove him sideways just as another blast sears past where his head had been. "you’re such an idiot," you wheeze, but your grin is wide, wild, alive. "we’re gonna die because you’re trying to be chivalrous."

"worth it," he shoots back, breathless, and when your shoulder bumps against his, it feels like home.

the villain snarls something unintelligible from across the ruined street, charging up another blast, but neither of you flinch. you don't need to. you already know mark's moving left before he does, just like he knows you're reaching for the discarded pipe at your feet without looking.

your fingers close around cold metal at the same moment mark feints right, drawing fire. "missed me," he taunts, rolling behind overturned concrete as the blast scorches the air where he'd been standing half a second ago. you're already moving, using the distraction to flank—just like when you were kids playing tag in the woods, when he'd bait the neighborhood bullies into chasing him so you could pelt them with rocks and pebbles from the trees.

the pipe connects with the villain's ribs with a satisfying crack, but they backhand you with their gun hard enough to make your teeth rattle. you barely register the pain before mark's there, catching your elbow to steady you while simultaneously kicking out the villain's knee. "still fight like you're twelve," you gasp out, spitting blood but grinning as you regain your footing.

"you really think i'm the only one?" he retorts, and goddamnit, he's right. the villain staggers up, furious, but you're already moving together—mark vaults onto your interlaced hands without needing to ask, and you launch him forward like it's second nature. his boot connects with their jaw at the same moment your pipe swings low, sweeping their legs out. they go down hard.

for a heartbeat, there's just silence and the sound of your ragged breathing. then mark's hand finds yours, squeezing once—a wordless check-in, just like when you were kids hiding in his room after a scrap, pressing ice packs to each other's bruises. one of his goggles is shattered, the cracked lens revealing a warm brown eye that's soft in a way only you ever get to see. his gaze flicks over you—the way your torn shirt clings to your heaving chest, the definition of your arms still tense from the fight, the stubborn set of your jaw even now—and something unbearably fond twists in his expression. "told you i got your back," he murmurs, thumb brushing over your scraped knuckles with a tenderness that belies the blood smeared across both of you.

you knock your forehead gently against his shoulder, laughing despite the ache in your ribs. "never doubted you, dumbass." above you, the first responders finally arrive, sirens wailing, but for this moment—sweaty, bleeding, exhausted—it's just the two of you again. his arm slides around your waist automatically, taking your weight as easily as he did when you were teenagers sneaking in through his window after curfew. the world could be ending around you, but it wouldn't matter. not when you're standing together like this, like you always have, like you always will.

hahahah see what i did there with the title card? bro i've always wanted to do that but worried it might ruin the immersion for my more serious one-shots. so today i finally said fuck it! no angst here anyway, so why not? hope you enjoyed this 1.8k words of pure fun—i definitely had a blast writing it lol. special thanks to you for requesting this, honey (heheh) <33 and can we talk about how i totally pictured jason todd's ridiculous physique for reader? like... have you seen that man? the arms? the shoulders? the pecs? the abs? the waist? the thighs?? god help me-

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momentomori24 · 7 months ago

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[This has been sitting in my draft for a while lol]

When it comes to Curly's failings, I always see people bring up his obvious failure to protect Anya and him prioritising Jimmy, who was the rapist in that situation. Which is completely valid btw and we should rake him through the coals for that alone even more. But I also see too many people saying that Curly "didn't enable Jimmy" or playing softball for his actions. And I could maybe see where that comes from if that incident was the only thing we had to point to-- but that wasn't all he did, is it? Curly being indifferent or not taking Jimmy's mistreatment and belittlement of Anya seriously was hinted at so much earlier than that.

Namely, the very first time we play from Curly's point of view. Let's just skip the fact that Curly was putting everyone in danger by not taking his psych evals seriously and simply giving the same answers to pass them even tho he was shown literal minutes after this scene being clearly not-sane, and go straight to the point I actually wanna get into. Which is this:

These scenes in isolation wouldn't be that bad. From his pov, it's played off as comical and it is. Jimmy being a brony (not really lmao) and getting playfully dragged over it is funny. But unfortunately this is the first example out of many for Curly's complacency. Anya is complaining about Jimmy not taking his psych evals or her seriously, which is easy to believe considering how much he rags on her for "not being a good nurse" (she kept Curly alive on hopes and dreams how dare you). So he keeps making her do silly and inappropriate reports she clearly doesn't wanna do, which is kinda shitty (also borders on harassment). But rather than actually saying something about Jimmy's behaviour or even acknowledging how it sucks he says this:

Mate, that's not a good thing 💀 He's clearly aware that the problem is Jimmy's lack of respect for Anya specifically. He knows that if he, his friend and a man in power, were the one doing the evals Jimmy wouldn't try that disrespect. But it's Anya, a meek woman who ranks lower than him so he thinks he can get away with it (which he DOES), and Curly's shown as comfortable in knowing that. He doesn't chew Jimmy out for making Anya uncomfortable nor does he reassure her that he will do something about it. All he does is take it off her hands this once and helps Jimmy power through it to get a good diagnosis (even tho we know he's DEFINITELY not sane either). He doesn't even mention Anya's discomfort or confront him on his inappropriate behaviour, just teases Jimmy in good fun instead because he doesn't think of it as anything serious. It's subtle and pretty minor in comparison to everything else, but I think it's worth pointing out. Especially because this convo takes place after Jimmy had assaulted her, which makes this so much worse.

If you need any more evidence of Curly being an enabler you need not look further than Anya herself. And I'm not just talking about the way he failed her here-- I'm talking about Anya's own view of Curly and the way said view influences her actions.

Just look at her choice of wording. "What would you have done". This is in response to him saying that she could've come to him if she were feeling stressed, which she-- in his eyes-- didn't. The question itself implies that she had no faith in Curly to actually help despite his insistence that he would've, which I think is significant because it shows that she's very much aware of Curly's shortcomings when it comes to her situation AND it's one of the first (or the first time) she actually verbalised her lack of trust towards him or anyone directly. Prior to this scene she had told him about her rape and the rapist, presumably because she trusted him to handle it. And he dismissed her because the rapist was his best friend, and that evidently deeply scarred her. Enough so that she secretly took the gun and hid it someplace else and didn't even tell Curly were that was, because she knows that if Curly has access to it there's a so much greater chance Jimmy will have too, insinuated by the line "the least I can do is make sure he never gets it either". Speaking about the gun:

It sucks so bad that this perception of him isn't even inaccurate nor unjustified. That despite everything Jimmy had done to her and everything he could still do to her, he'd very likely still not allow her access to the gun for protection. Because that's exactly what he didn't do anyway. He didn't attempt to keep her safe from Jimmy, instead he just pretended that nothing was wrong and still let Jimmy's belittlement of her pass. He didn't give her the gun after the incident, because she wouldn't have hid the case if he had. Despite his desperate reassurance that he'd do anything, he did nothing but make it worse for her and she KNOWS that. It's so frustrating knowing he entrusted the axe to Swansea when he needed it but not the gun to Anya when she needed it too. Also this:

The fact that his knee-jerk reaction to her admitting that she's pregnant was "Who would you--" is so fucked, especially considering she's already told him what happened. "Who would you" what? Who would you fuck? Who would you have sex with? That choice of wording drives me up a wall-- SHE wouldn't and didn't do anything or anyone. That was JIMMY. The potential sentence implies that she had any choice or agency in her pregnancy. She didn't. And the fact that Curly had to ask "who" insinuates that he's been putting Jimmy's action out of sight and out of mind the whole time, choosing to not think about them or what happened to Anya at all. And considering he still made her do Jimmy's evaluations despite being able to do them himself and literally didn't even think of making sure she gets psych evals done too--especially AFTER getting sexually assaulted--that might actually be the case (I haven't seen anyone make a stink about that piece of info so I'm going to because what kinda colossal fuck up IS that??).

I vaguely had a post like this in mind but seeing so many people be like "well Anya did some wrong stuff too like leaving Curly alone with Jimmy but you don't get mad at HER for that so why is Curly not doing anything about Jimmy being alone with Anya so different??" actually makes me want to blow some people up. Jimmy's an abuser, sure, but Anya has no real reason to believe that he'd actually harm Curly. From her perspective, they were close, close enough that Curly would not only let Jimmy continuously disrespect her but also get away with assaulting her too. That, and she knows that Jimmy was closer to Curly than anyone and more likely to be civil around him than he ever was to her. She has barely any reasons to suspect Jimmy would harm Curly when they're alone. Curly, on the other hand, has every fucking reason on the planet to think Jimmy would harm her when they're alone. He knows he raped her (likely in her room at night too). He knows that he sexually harasses her. He knows that he doesn't respect her at all. And that was BEFORE the crash. Anya tried insisting on giving Curly his medicine, only for Jimmy to keep aggressively insisting that he'll take care of it despite her protests. Curly didn't try to keep them separate at all even though he was the Captain and had the power to do so. And this should go without saying, but leaving your rapist alone with his best friend that he was close to and enabled/protected him and leaving your friend alone with the woman he raped (and might have repeatedly assaulted given his free access to her) is NOT THE SAME and I'm going to start chucking some people down a waterfall because what the fuck is that argument 💀 Actually leave it to the fandom of the game where the rape of a woman is the catalyst for the events that unfold to use her trauma to defend the guy that enabled it in the first place. Bloody hell.

The reason why this whole Curly discourse pisses me off is because it-- from what I can see-- ONLY brings up his failures 1-0 days before the crash and the Dead Pixel scene (or all the discussion around other points are drowned out by those two). Those scenes, while important to talk about, are not the only things he's done, and focussing on those as the only things is a mistake that comes short of understanding the issue. When it comes to Curly the main defences I see for him are "he was trying not to escalate the situation" and "he was trying to keep things under control the best he can" and "he was waiting for the right time to help Anya", but those don't work when you look at the bigger picture of everything he's done.

He half-assed through his psych eval despite clearly not being sane (and KNOWING he's barely sane, he literally admits it to Jimmy's face). He still continued to task her with Jimmy's psych evals. He brushed over Jimmy's sexual harassment of her as a joke. He didn't think about making sure she got psych evals done herself after being raped. He gave Swansea the axe but didn't give Anya the gun despite it being for "unrest amongst the crew" (whatever the hell THAT means). He let her assault slip his mind that she had to remind him. He's literally a blond man. He took no action to hold Jimmy responsible for anything, and prioritised how his violation of Anya would affect him rather than her. He ignored her demands for him to get rid of Jimmy. He still allowed Jimmy free reign of the ship as co-pilot even after he was openly fantasising about killing everyone and had a major motive and the means to do just that. He was potentially thinking of making her miscarry to cover up what happened. He was so accustomed to her sucking up being disrespected and disturbed that he didn't even notice a difference in her behaviour until she hid the fucking gun. There's so much other shit he's done and hasn't done, and not talking about them or glossing over them makes it so easy for people to argue that he isn't actually an enabler or just minimise the severity of his neglect.

And while I'm already dragging Curly through the mud, I might as well just drag Swansea too. I've seen too many people being like "Anya should've told Swansea instead" and "Swansea was the one that actually took responsibility". Like, y'all realise he's not that much better than Curly, right? He already knew about what happened to Anya-- he admits it to Jimmy's face-- but he didn't do shit. He knew, but he still got completely shitfaced for months despite her earlier protestation to that (for very understandable reasons). He knew, but he still let Jimmy have the axe AND be alone with Anya while having it. He knew, but when Anya locked herself in the Medical and Daisuke and Jimmy asked for his help he didn't budge nor really showed any care. He knew, but the reason he finally decided to do something about Jimmy wasn't Anya, it was Daisuke. Her suffering and her eventual death weren't enough for him to take action either.

This game, on top of everything else, is a great depiction of rape culture. It doesn't just include the rapists, but the people (mostly men) that stay silent, do nothing, make excuses for and protect the perpetrator for whatever reason, and Swansea and Curly (Curly way more so than Swansea) are both active contributors to the environment that allowed for evil to flourish and continue unhindered until it destroyed them all. And while that arguably doesn't make them evil themselves or as bad as Jimmy, they are so much more a part of the bigger problem than the fandom likes to admit.

[Ok since this is kinda gaining a bit of traction please consider helping these guys out here, here and here. Thanks!]

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #do not come for me curly fans i'm one of y'all i promise. kinda #if i had a nickle for every time i made a post dragging a blond man i'd have three #which isn't a lot now but that number will likely increase in the future lmao #seriously tho i'm so sick of seeing people be all “there's no evidence that he's an enabler” and “he did all he could” like screw you guys #the point of the whole story is that his inaction is what allowed for everything to happen #that his willingness to do nothing put him in a state where he can only watch the horrors without being able to do anything if he wanted to #it's about TWO captains who kept going on about taking responsibility and did anything BUT that #he's not as horrible as jimmy obviously but he doesn't need to be to do damage and be awful #you know what i very well may just be a lot meaner and uncharitable to him than i should be here #but i guess tumblr can be the judge of that. i still rest my case. now time to continue avoiding curly discourse like usual XD #normally i wouldn't care enough to make a post about the way the fandom treats him because it's nothing unique or anything #but something about this game and him being blond specifically made me unable to resist. i just can't be nice to him for that alone #pardon the typos i whipped this up in a hurry and am too lazy to go over everything right now #momento rambles

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