#and i've been working my ass off but what's the Point!!!!

[jollyhunter]

Aight, let's get down to this. *cracks knuckles* (not in the riot starting kinda way).

Okay, I'm ready for the Angst.

Have you ever noticed that closing your eyes and counting to ten does little when you're talking to the most odious person alive?

Your intros always take me off guard in the most hilarious way 🤣 Just like this;

2. You brought a tuna fish sandwich from home and he could somehow smell it two floors down.

I mean. I can almost understand how that one can be annoying. But I don't want to agree with the Warden and therefore I'll let it slip 😂

At least on paper, the things you'd done in your head were a little more PG-13 than the Warden needed to know about. Hell, you still were trying your best not to let your mind go to those places.

LOL I love this reader so much. She's got that Golden Retriever / Sunshine personality but in her head she's just as naughty as all of us 🤭 ... Good thing the Warden can't read minds. The things he'd see there 😂

You briefly wonder if he's always been like this or if he's having marital problems that he projects on everyone else.

Bahaha - definitely the latter. My old highschool teacher was the same. Absolute ass. The day his wife dropped by, we all knew why 🤣 (didn't justify it though and neither did we feel sorry for him lol)

Looks like somebody has been talking to my mother.

LMAO - not me instantly imagining her mother and the Warden meeting up every Wednesday for a cuppa afternoon tea to gossip about her daughter

'the douchebag professor who thinks that he knows everything, but really just stares down your blouse and likes keeping you quiet and submissive.'

What an accurate way to describe a pose we all immediately recognize 😂 (and has us recoil and clench our jaws). You always manage to describe things in such unique ways which are either beautiful or have me crack up LOL!

This is much worse than someone stealing my chocolate, and that's saying something.

This reader is growing on me. She's got her priorities set right 😂 and her heart is in the right place 💗 She really is the perfect opposites-attract puzzle piece to Mark isn't she?

"I'm sure Walker will have a lot of fun getting his hands on a pretty little thing like you, with no one to stop him and no one to hear you scream. And for men like him," Something dark flickers in his eyes sending a shudder down your spine as he leans down towards you. "Hearing those screams makes them feel alive."

Okay I just wanted to throttle the Warden at this point. The fact that he says these things even though he knows that Walker's not a real criminal, just makes this ten times more disgusting. I hope he gets kicked in the family jewels in a riot or somebody knocks him over with his car!

Walker's eyes have gone dark, the playful gleam you'd grown to love vanishing, his mischievous smirk morphed into an angry scowl as he throws his fist into the other inmate's face. Blood flecks over his cheeks and across his knuckles, and despite the guards that try to pull him off the other man, Walker fights back hard.

HERE COMES THE MISUNDERSTANDIG - OH NO.

Also, very clever how you played with the canon scene here! I love how we all try to integrate those and give them a different twist or perspective 😄 (I've got something planned with that one as well 🤭)

Like when you switched to Mark's perspective and played the entire scene once more. Genius move!! And so effective!!

She wears crazy socks for fucks sake! A woman like her should be working in one of the top hospitals in the country, not here!

EXACTLY. And that's why she fits you so well, Mark! You're like a pair of mismatched socks! (I LOVE his internal monologues so much, overall his entire perspective was so intriguing and well done - I don't know about you but I felt like you nailed his character!!)

Because where could this go? He finally gets out of prison only to tell you that he's on death row? A dead man walking? Might as well just throw him right back in the fucking clink, he was already waiting out a death sentence and as long as he was making some kind of difference who cares?

NO - MARK STAHP IT. His final thoughts on this and with the misunderstanding on top?? Oh man, the next chapter is going to hit hard, I can already smell the angst. Why are you doing this to us! 😭 (jk, you know I love it)

He hated the days that he let another inmate land a punch only to find the buffoon with the duct taped Nikes waiting for him in the infirmary. Talk about disappointing.

Sorry but this had me snort, poor Mark! 🤣

What an awesome second chapter to this storyline, Lee! 🥰 It started out comedic and took an angsty turn real fast. I am kinda scared of the next one now lol! But I also want to know what's going to happen next. Will the misunderstanding lead to even more misunderstandings?? Will we get introduced to the duct taped Nikes buffoon? Will she be scared of Mark / Walker now and the Warden's going to be all like "Told you so." ? 😭

I Want To Be The One To Light Up The Dark In You

Pairing: Mark Meachum x f!reader, Reader POV, Mark Meachum POV

Summary: As much as you hate to admit it, the Warden might be right. This is the second fic in my Jailhouse Rock Series!

Tropes: Slow Burn, Forbidden Love, A Smidge Of Touch Her And Die Trope, Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: Manspreading 😒, Mentions of Sex/ Sexual Innuendo, Mentions of Blood and Prison Fights, Cursing, Angst, Inmate Says A Few *ahem* Unpleasant Things, Warden Also Says A Few Unpleasant Things, Reader trying not to be in love with a hot man in prison? Mark might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I'm just starting to write for Mark, so please be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Listen While You Read 🚨: Light Up The Dark By Gabrielle Aplin title of fic is taken from this song!

Jailhouse Rock Playlist 🚨

Main Masterlist

Jailhouse Rock Masterlist

A/N: Oh my goodness, thank you so much everyone for all the reblogs and the wonderful feedback on part one of this fic series! I'm so happy that so many of you have decided to strap in to this angsty ride! 😊

Reader POV

Have you ever noticed that closing your eyes and counting to ten does little when you're talking to the most odious person alive?

That by some miracle, closing your eyes and pretending that they aren't there standing in front of you, breathing the same air, chattering on and on in the most annoying and condescending voice about something that makes your teeth grind down together and your insides suddenly want to be your outsides will help you find some way to maintain your composure?

Right now you wished it did.

Black coffee steamed from the ancient chipped mug sitting on the tanker desk in front of you, curling and twisting in the mid-day sun that floated through the barred windows of the Warden's office.

It did little to obscure the man scowling at you from under his mustache, but you wished that by some miracle the steam would grow into a cloud to hide you from the judgmental gaze of your employer.

What you'd done, you had no idea, but you noticed that the warden was often pulling you into his office to discuss things that seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things.

Things like:

You forgot to clean off your desk before you went home.

You brought a tuna fish sandwich from home and he could somehow smell it two floors down.

Your socks were distracting and therefore counterproductive to the work environment.

Basically, the warden was the mean cheerleader who dated all the jocks and never grew up.

Lovely.

So when he called you into his office you knew you were in for another tongue lashing that would later make you roll your eyes so hard that they'd get stuck in the back of your head.

He sits across from you, hands entwined on the top of his desk, beady eyes skating across you as if he can sense your internal monologue.

"I hear that you had to patch up Walker again yesterday." He says it like an accusation, as if it isn't your job to take care of the inmates, to patch them up when things get a little too fight club for your taste.

No disrespect to Brad Pitt and Ed Norton of course.

"Yes sir."

You'd learned by now to call him anything other than Warden or Sir would earn you a taste of the famous anger (re temper tantrums) the Warden had.

You'd been on the receiving end of them far too many times and despite not caring if he was mad at you or not, you didn't have time to sit here in his office and wait around, not when you were trying to leave early because your sister Margo and you had your weekly book club meeting tonight at your apartment.

The Warden takes a sip of his coffee, mustache rippling over the curve of the chipped cup, not breaking eye contact with you as he does.

There's an odd energy in the room, something oppressive and faintly masculine. It's cloying presence pulls at your limbs, shifts over the dark wood cabinet behind the desk, and drags over the concrete slab floor that ran the length of the prison. It was the same kind of energy that you'd only found in your physics professor's office, the one who told you that you'd never be able to pass his course with your academic record and you then spent the semester proving him wrong.

The walls of his office are painted in the same dreary gray that ghosted along the infirmary. You supposed that it was to make the room look bigger, but it only made it feel small, choking.

Instead of closing your eyes and counting to ten, you busy yourself with reading the titles of the books that line the dark wooden cabinet behind the Warden's head.

Anything is better than looking into those creepy beady eyes.

Especially not when you knew that the Warden was fishing for something to hold over you. Even though the only thing you'd done with Walker was your job. At least on paper, the things you'd done in your head were a little more PG-13 than the Warden needed to know about. Hell, you still were trying your best not to let your mind go to those places.

The Warden's gaze shifts over your body again. It worms beneath your skin, oppressive, squirmy. It was the same look that he gave the rest of the inmates within the walls of the prison to keep them in submission. You briefly wonder if he's always been like this or if he's having marital problems that he projects on everyone else.

"I also hear that you've been-" He clears his throat, beady eyes on you. "a little more friendly with him." His lip curls up in distaste at the word "friendly."

Oh so that's what this is about.

You choose to let your face remain impassive, not giving the man across from you eyeing you like a predatory bird the satisfaction.

"Sir?"

The Warden stands from his desk. "Do you know what the most dangerous thing in our profession is?"

"Shanks?"

The word came out before you could stop it, slipping out with the ghost of a smile on your lips.

His frown deepens. "Now isn't the time for your exhaustive wit."

Looks like somebody has been talking to my mother.

He comes around the desk, every step measured, before finally he's leaning against the front in the ultimate form of man-spreading, the highest level, also known as 'the douchebag professor who thinks that he knows everything, but really just stares down your blouse and likes keeping you quiet and submissive.'

"It's getting comfortable, believing that they can be your friends, not seeing them for what they really are-"

"What they really are?"

"Inconveniences, nuisances, trash, rubbish- the undesirables." The Warden shrugs. "But what they can never be is your friends."

Your jaw tightens.

The truth was, you had heard all of this before from your mother, usually when she was trying to talk you out of keeping your job at the prison.  She'd told you countless times how all of the inmates didn't deserve you as a doctor and therefore you should move on, but you couldn't. You took an oath to help people, to heal, to care, and you felt like you were where you needed to be.

The bigger problem, was hearing this kind of talk from someone who not only was supposed to oversee and run the prison, but also see the worth of his job, of seeing the positives as well as the negatives. He was not supposed to look down on the inmates.

Who does he think he is? The President of the United States?! He has no right to judge these men that way. Not when he's supposed to be the voice of reason, the leader, the one person in this damn prison who actually gives a fuck.

"Sir-" Anger flares in your chest, beating against your ribcage like the wings of a bird.

"Come on." He stands from the desk and walks to his office door behind him.

"What?"

"I want to show you something."

The Warden doesn't wait for you, in fact he continues to walk down the maze of hallways with you running to catch up with him. You had no idea why he couldn't just chew you out in his office for something that you didn't deserve to be chewed out for.

For actually giving a shit about his inmates... well maybe caring a little bit too much.

Your thoughts immediately shift to Walker as they always did whenever all went quiet in your mind and you couldn't think of anyone else.

There was a little part of you that you didn't want to heed, the rational part of your brain that said that Walker was playing you like a fiddle, that he didn't care about you and all he wanted was to charm you so it would be easier for him to use you.

That part usually warred with the other part, the part that kept letting the green-eyed man slip into your thoughts when you felt discouraged and disappointed by the other men in your life that never quite seemed to get you.

The Warden opens a door at the end of the hallway, the brilliant sunlight blinding you for a moment, before you realize that the two of you are standing in the inner gate looking out onto the yard.

Inmates mill around in groups while others move in a grayish blue blur through the crowds with the sun baking from above. Some play a game of basketball in the far corner while others lift weights.

Dust kicks up in twisted clouds around their feet with the wind that blows from the East, wicking the sweat that gathers on the back of your neck. Grass pushes up through the coarse earth in sporadic patches only to be stomped into submission by the white canvas prison regulation tennis shoes the inmates wore. The murmur of the prisoners, the heavy clink of weights, and bounce of a basketball against pavement is lost on the wind.

You find Walker almost immediately. It’s a compulsion, like magnets, as if you can’t help but look for the scruffy green-eyed man who’s entered your subconscious despite all the times you’ve told yourself that it can’t happen. Your mind automatically seeking him out for some relief, a bad habit you can't seem to break.

He's sitting on top of one of the concrete picnic tables on the far end of the yard, talking to a younger guy with hair so black it's almost the color of charcoal.

The breeze rustles through Walker's hair that blazes a honeyed chestnut in the mid-day sun, the same sun that paints his body in a golden glow. You know that if you were standing beside him you’d be able to see the flecks of gold like falling stars around his eyes, that crinkle with his boisterous laugh.

Walker laughs at something the dark-haired inmate says, his warm chuckle somehow finding the curve of your ear as if he's standing right next to you and even though you haven’t been able to hear anything else it comes across clear as day.

An alarm bell goes off in your head, because you know this is crazy. You knew better than to start thinking about an inmate the way you thought about Walker. Even if he was incredibly charming, funny, and had eyes that seemed to see through everything you were.

Damn it.

There was only one place that this could head, and it was already circling the drain, you just needed to pull the plug before you were in too deep.

Feels like it might be too late for that.

Walker's gaze flicks up from his companion to you, finding your eyes within seconds of you finding him, as if he sensed it. You hold his gaze, a smile twitching at the end of his mouth just for a moment, before he looks back at the man beside him. If you’d blinked you would have missed it.

Unfortunately, the Warden didn't miss it either.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." He says.

"What?"

"You give them too much leash."

"They're not dogs." You grumble under your breath.

"You're right. They're not. They're wolves." The Warden spits, eyes narrowed as he turns to look at you. He takes a step in your direction, backing you up against the chain link fence. "You can't tame them and the second you turn your back, they'll rip your throat out."

His eyes are two blackened pits, the sunlight no longer a soft glow, but a striking white that blinds you momentarily as you look up into his face. The planes of his face are sharpened in the dark shadow of his gray cowboy hat. He looks every bit the Warden role he'd chosen to play.

"You don't know that. Just because they're prisoners does not make them any less human than you and me!" You snap back.

Anger flared red hot beneath your skin, bubbling up from the pit of your stomach like a volcano ready to erupt. You hated the way that he spoke about the inmates, haughty, prideful, arrogant, as if they were below him somehow when all they were was just men. Men who maybe had made a few mistakes, but you were willing to believe that with the bad came the good, that not all of them could be psychos that were locked up for the "betterment of society."

"Yes I do. I've been here a hell of a lot longer than you. See this happen time and time again." He snarls taking another step towards you. The chain link cuts through the back of you scrubs, harsh and unyielding, meant to keep the inmates in but somehow now feel like it's trying to keep you out. "Let me guess, you think that life has been unkind to them. That not one of them deserves to be within these walls."

"That's not what I'm-"

"Did I say that I was done?" He barks.

Your jaw tenses so tightly together that you're sure you'll get TMJ.

He spoke to you like you were a little girl who'd done something wrong and was sent to the principal's office as if you were living in some imaginary world filled with rainbows and unicorns or still believed in Santa.

There were only a few moments in your life that you admitted to absolutely hating someone, and this would go right on the list as number five. Number one was Sally Caruthers in second grade who took your pudding cup at snack time.

This is much worse than someone stealing my chocolate, and that's saying something.

But worse still was that he was assuming you only saw the good in the world, but he was wrong. Your father had told you enough stories from his job growing up, things that were said to you in warning to prepare you for when you struck out on your own. You weren't naïve, far from it, but you didn't believe that everyone was rotten to the core, you wanted to believe that everyone had some good hidden somewhere.

It was that way with Walker. You'd seen his file, knew what he did, but there was a part of you that wanted to believe that he wasn't all bad.

The thought stutters to a halt.

Do I really believe that? Or do I think that just because of the way he's always nice to me… Only when he needs something.

You glance over your shoulder to look at where Walker is sitting with the other inmate, but instead of being locked in conversation, Walker's entire body has gone rigid.

He's staring at where the Warden has you cornered against the chain length fence, eyes dark, with his hand curled against the concrete slab that serves as the top of the table pulled so tight that his knuckles look white. Something dark dances in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine.

You’d never seen him like that before. Easy smiles, windswept hair, green eyes so bright they seemed to dance yes. But this? Seeing Walker with something akin to murder in his eyes, never.

It made your throat tighten.

"You think they hate being in here? That it’s some dark twist of fate that they’re imprisoned here?” The Warden asks with a sneer. "They aren’t. In here they think they're kings, gods, who assert their power however they see fit. Because out there they are nothing,  but in here they think they're untouchable, and Walker is the worst of them all."

"You don't know that-" Your voice comes out in a whisper, heart sinking.

"I do." The Warden towers over you, placing one of his hands against the unyielding metal of the chain-length fence. His fingers curl into the space to cage you in. The warmth of his breath wafts across your face, bringing the distinct smell of coffee.

It made your stomach feel like it was flopping around, a fish out of water.

"He doesn't give a shit about you, none of the prisoners do. It might be all smiles and jokes now, but the second the status quo changes, the exact moment there aren't any guards looking, no one to stop him, well-" The Warden smiles cruelly. "I'm sure Walker will have a lot of fun getting his hands on a pretty little thing like you, with no one to stop him and no one to hear you scream. And for men like him," Something dark flickers in his eyes sending a shudder down your spine as he leans down towards you. "Hearing those screams makes them feel alive."

The sunlight soaking into your bones has suddenly gone cold, fear tracing along the curve of your spine with a chilled fingertip.

Memories of the stories your father told you from years in this world come whispering against your ear, stories that used to keep your sister up at night and made her the kind of woman that had a bright pink keychain loaded with every self-defense tool known to man.

When you'd taken this job your father had issued the same warning, told you about the dangers of desperate men who had nothing to lose.

"They're wrong," He'd said one night while the two of you watched an episode of the Walking Dead, sighing at the screen. "Men like that don't come around when everything falls apart. They already exist and the dangerous ones aren't the ones that wear it proudly on their sleeves. The dangerous ones are the men who hide in plain sight with easy smiles and gentle touches, because when they flip the switch, you don't see it coming."

On some level you knew that the Warden was right, men like that existed everywhere, but you didn't want to believe that Walker was one of them. Just as you didn't want to believe that everyone was out to get you all the time, that would lead to a very lonely existence, a sad and somewhat dark existence.

A flash of Walker's dark eyes comes roaring back through your subconscious before you can stop it. In his gaze you hadn't seen the Walker you knew, you'd seen someone else. And the longer you thought about it, the more it snagged in your chest that maybe Walker wasn't as charming as he let on and maybe he was getting you exactly where he wanted before the façade dropped.

An alarm sounds from across the yard, shattering through the sounds of mid-day and sending the crows that gathered on the top of the barbed wire fences flocking across the sun.

"Look at him." The Warden grabs your shoulder and turns you around so fast that you feel dizzy for a moment. "You think that man is a puppy? He's a damn wolf in sheep's clothing sweetheart and the second you turn your back they'll be nothing you can do."

Your gaze focuses on Walker, who sits atop another inmate splayed out beneath him on the ground. Walker's eyes have gone dark, the playful gleam you'd grown to love vanishing, his mischievous smirk morphed into an angry scowl as he throws his fist into the other inmate's face. Blood flecks over his cheeks and across his knuckles, and despite the guards that try to pull him off the other man, Walker fights back hard.

His eyes flicker across the yard once again finding you, but this time it doesn't bring the same warmth that it usually does, all it does is bring the chill scuttling down the length of your spine. Because the man staring back at you, has not one shred of the Walker you know, and it brings the doubt surging back up to swallow you whole.

Mark POV

*Five Minutes Ago*

It was moments like this that Mark hated being undercover.

He wasn't one to complain, and truthfully he liked a lot of things about being undercover: the improv as he slipped into character, the bravado he exuded, the rush of adrenaline that snapped and crackled through his veins when things were going his way and also the same lightning bolt that energized him when things weren't…

But not right now.

Especially not now.

It wasn't the sun that baked against his freckled skin, it wasn't the inmates that whispered death threats under their breath whenever they passed or the ones that actually had the balls to act on, it wasn't the chill that came in the dead of night creeping beneath the metal doors and seeped through the cinderblock when he tried to tug the hole riddled blanket up over his body, and it wasn't the headache that pinched between his eyebrows, the same headaches that came at the most inopportune times and reminded him of the thing he was trying to forget.

The axe that hung over the chopping block, the ticking time bomb in his head with a nuclear level countdown sequence that no one could stop.

But he wasn't thinking about any of that, all he was thinking about was you.

Mark knew the second you appeared on the edge of the chain length fence enclosing the yard following after the Warden something was wrong.

Because you weren't smiling.

There was never one moment that Mark had seen you with a frown on your face, not when each time you smiled he felt something deep down inside of him break open and flood the cavity in his chest with warmth. Which only made him feel a hell of a lot of guilt. He was undercover for fucks sake, he needed to focus on what he was doing not get distracted by someone like you…

But he was.

You were so unlike any person he'd ever met, someone who shouldn't exist somewhere like this. Not with your sincere smiles, warm personality, and genuine caring attitude that you carried with you through the dismal halls of the prison. It was almost like there was this one bright light that flickered and shone despite the thick mortar and cinderblock that enclosed the rest of the inmates, a light that could so easily be blown out at a moment's notice.

She wears crazy socks for fucks sake! A woman like her should be working in one of the top hospitals in the country, not here!

And Mark knew that he shouldn't care about you as much as he did, not when he was undercover and especially not because his days were numbered.

Because where could this go? He finally gets out of prison only to tell you that he's on death row? A dead man walking? Might as well just throw him right back in the fucking clink, he was already waiting out a death sentence and as long as he was making some kind of difference who cares?

What was the point if he couldn't give you what you deserved?

But that did nothing to stop you from slipping into his subconscious. The sound of your laugh a soothing melody, the brief glimpse of your smile like a star falling from heaven, and the gentle touch of your fingers over his skin a calming balm whenever you patched him up.

Mark had to keep reminding himself that you were nothing but a distraction, not to mention a complication that he never saw coming, blindsided by your kindness and gentle demeanor.

I'm a fucking professional not some cockeyed rookie. I've done this multiple times why is she different!? Why now?

Mark tried his hardest not to think about you, not when he was supposed to be focused on the job, but he couldn't help it, he worried about you constantly.

Worried that some other inmate or even one of the guards here would catch you alone unaware. Worried that you wouldn't pick up on the signals until it was too late and there was nowhere for you to go and Mark couldn't get to you in time.

Anything could happen in this prison, hell, Mark had seen quite a few things happen already and he couldn't bear the thought of you being involved in any of them.

Mark saw the way the others watched you when they noticed you walking down the hallways, saw the way that even the guards gazes lingered on your form whenever they brought Mark to the infirmary.

And as much as it hurt to get into fights, it was the only way that Mark could ensure seeing that you were okay, that you were still here. He hated the days that he let another inmate land a punch only to find the buffoon with the duct taped Nikes waiting for him in the infirmary.

Talk about disappointing.

Mark also tried not to think too hard that the other reason he went to see you was that it felt so damn good, that he couldn't go without seeing you at least once per week. He felt like an addict of the worst kind, but if this was an addiction he wasn't sure he ever wanted to quit, not when seeing you smile made Mark forget everything wrong in his fucked up life.

The sun kissed your skin giving it a brilliant glow and framing the curves of your body so well that Mark was sure if he closed his eyes the imprint would be stamped across the inside of his eyelids, the wind rustled through the strands of your hair pulling it freely into your face, and Mark dropped his eyes to your ankles barely catching a glimpse of the cactus socks hidden in your pair of signature converse, but still you don't smile.

An ugly feeling swarmed in the pit of Mark's stomach when his gaze drifted to the Warden. He was standing a little too close for Mark's comfort, towering over you, and Mark didn't like the way you seemed to curl slightly in on yourself, folding beneath the Warden's gaze.

He couldn't hear what you two were talking about, but he could sure as hell guess.

Mark's hand curls around the concrete table top of the picnic table when the Warden takes another step in your direction, pressing you further against the fence.

White hot rage begins to flood through his body, the urge to protect you breaking through the little voice inside that was telling him to let you go, let it go, that he's about to blow his cover for all the wrong reasons.

Fuck.

Mark hated the Warden, knew how much of an asshole he was the second Mark met with him before he went undercover, and Mark hated the way you looked.

You looked small.

Mark had never seen you look anything but happy, your laugh always making something inside of Mark feel like he was slowly sliding into a sun soaked beach chair on a remote island.

But not now. Now Mark wanted to stride over there, throw it all away, and nail the Warden once in face for saying whatever the hell it was that he was saying to you, because Mark knew that it wasn't good. It couldn't be, not when the look on your face was something between anger and hurt.

"Yo Walker!" An inmate cat-calls, but Mark ignores him.

Mark is in too deep and he knows it, but he can't look away from you. He's too busy trying to read the Warden's lips to care what someone else says to him.

"Looks like the Warden's got his eye on your little bitch." The inmate continues.

Mark's head snaps in the direction of said inmate, Luis, the man that had come to see you after him yesterday. He was at least three times Mark's size, his mouth splitting in a wide toothless smile on his goon-like face, the snake tattoo that curves up over his left eye flashing in the sunlight, offsetting the black and blue marks around his nose that mirrored the black eye on Mark's face.

"Fuck off."

"Ooo, touchy." Luis continues, rubbing one hand over his bald, sweaty forehead. Mark watches his gaze flick back in your direction, raking over your body without your knowledge. You were far too focused on the Warden who had cornered you against the chain-length fence like you were some kind of animal. "I'll say this, she's cute. Got that kind of body I wouldn't mind having all to myself. Bet she'd moan my name real pretty."

Mark's teeth grit together so hard he can hear the grinding in his ears, but he doesn't give in.

Don't play his game. Don't blow this because of her-

Chen looks from Mark to Luis, eyes wide. He had just started to trust Mark, and Mark didn't want to throw that all away so he ignores the man egging him on and instead watches where you are with the Warden.

"Fuck, I got a semi the other day when she was patching me up." Luis continues, taking another step towards Mark with two of his goons flanking him. "Her hands are so soft, I can't imagine what it'd feel like if she put those hands all over my co-"

The rest of his sentence is lost in the haze of red that washes over Mark's mind. He doesn't remember rising from the picnic table, doesn’t remember tackling Luis to the ground, and doesn't remember the first punch he throws into his face or the second or the third.

All he knows is that the moment the guards pull him off of Luis, whose nose is now broken for the second time, and his eyes find yours across the yard, and he sees the look of horror that crosses your face is that he messed up. Because Mark can lie to himself all day long, tell himself that he doesn't care about you, but seeing you look at him like that makes him want to throw all of this away.

And that's what scares him the most, because he can't, not when this is all he is and ever can be and you're everything else.

A/N: Just a tinsy bit of angst, a sprinkle if you will... Yes I know canonically that the Warden knows that Mark is undercover, I just wanted to make the Warden an even bigger jerk for warning her about Mark.

Taglist:

@jollyhunter @zepskies @waynes-multiverse @roseblue373 @angrydragon90

@kmc1989 @lunaleah @megara0224 @globetrotter98 @ladykitana90

@youroldfashioned @wonderland2022 @hellsbratonthet @moosewithabackstory @wvffles

@beakaleak32 @caroline-brooks @agentorange9595 @spxideyver

@hobby27 @anna-reid23 @britt217 @ralilda @lori19 @iamasimpingh0e

[andrabeets]

Dandori Downpour - A Pikmin 4 Dating Sim - August 3rd Development Blog

Welcome to the eighth installment of the Rescue Corps/Pikmin 4 Dating Sim development blog! A "news letter" where I will discuss my progress on the dating simulator.

Here's an updated video of the character creator with the new assets!

I ran out of questions last week so I asked: Who would you trust the most on a deserted island with you?

Survey says

Shepherd & Collin tied!

Obviously... No bias here... I would pick Shepherd.. Even if we'd both be screaming at the slightest bush rustle.

---

What has been done since last time?

Blinking sprites for all castaways and Rescue Corps

Exporting and troubleshooting new create-a-character assets

Finish all castaways sprites needed for the game! 🎉

1 Background

1 of Russ' CGs

Started another Russ CG

Started 1 of Collin's CGs

Planned special mechanic for someone's route 👀

Began writing Shepherd's route in Twine

Began implementation of Intro in game

Yonny's route planning

Tweaked Dingo's and Russ' sprites a bit

Set up better sprite exporting system for Rescue Corps characters

So a lot done! There may even be more that I forgot about.

Release News...

I've been thinking these past few weeks about when I think/when I'd like to release this game... It's very hard to pin point as I am a perfectionist. However, I think I've changed my mind on releasing the first 3 routes then releasing the other 3 later. I feel like if I release the first 3 routes, I'll get bored of the project and just give up on the last 3. Also, I think it's better to have a finished product come out all together!

As for release, I won't lie, it's anticipated for 2026. YEAH... Going into this project, I truly thought I could handle it in a summer's time (At least 3 routes) but now that it's August, I'm not really that close! Don't get me wrong, I've made great progress, but with my day job and side gig, it's definitely a lot slower. And my ADHD.

I'm super dedicated to the project, however! I am taking an unpaid week off in October just to work on DD. I am gonna plan and attack that week "game jam" style then completely burn out when I return to my day job hahaha then in December, I have another week off due to the holidays where I'll have extra time between events to work my ass off. Here's to hoping! Also, I might turn this newsletter into a "whenever I feel like it" sort of thing. Most likely monthly? And polls will now be what you guys would like to see as a preview.

Speaking of..

POLL TIME!

I hope you guys are as excited as I am for this project, I'm super duper excited for the day I can share it with you! Just needs to bake in the oven for a while. But for now, vote on which preview you'd like!

As always, feel free to reach out, say hello, give ideas, what have you. I appreciate your support!

Stay curious!~

andrabeets / Cherie <333

[ilikekidsshows]

Sorry, got longer. I just need to rant bc a Marinette stan pissed me off and I want to get this out of my system so I can ignore them in peace. If it's too long, you can delete it ^^

I'll never not find it hilarious that Marinette stans just don't respond to being asked to elaborate on their vague excuses or complaints about how "Marinette totally isn't what salters say she is and does".

Their 'analysis' and explanations for why Adrien is "totally on the same level of flawed as Marinette" are hilariously stuck in season 4 with cherry picking what parts of s5 and 6 get to count as well.

I've been asking them for years now to actually explain in detail what exactly they mean when they say that, for example, Marinette's love for Chat Noir is pure and unconditional. That she would do anything for him and would never hurt him.

I'm not even accusing and going off on them. I'm merely asking them to stop using vague and unspecific phrasing and actually EXPLAIN the development they claim we are witnessing.

To please explain why her on-screen physically and emotionally hurting him doesn't count as her physically and emotionally hurting him. Or why bullying is bad UNLESS it's Chat Noir who's being bullied by Ladybug and everyone else?

To explain how exactly Marinette is respecting Chat Noir's dignity and boundaries when she's been forbidding him from having those for seasons upon seasons with the conflict ending with Maribug being declared right for insisting on being the one who decides what Chat Noir's boundaries, needs, desires, ambitions are and what little his personhood amounts to the moment she's challenged by ANYTHING.

How her withholding all support, information, and resources from him so she doesn't have to share anything as she lies to him about being just as alone and resourceless as him, is her treating him fairly and as her equal?

Look, I would be fine with me not seeing something in canon that's actually there. That's why I keep on asking for Marinette stans to EXPLAIN their argument beyond some vague ass words they back up by nothing because "they shouldn't have to 😒"

Like, yeah? You SHOULD verbalise your argument?? Fiction can be interpreted in MANY valid ways, but there is a reason for why your teacher required of you to back your analysis up with quotes and detailed elaborations on the themes and character work of all the overarching canon events. If you stop having canon examples as proof halfway through the source material, then I'm sorry, but your initial point doesn't hold up anymore the way it did.

Not that something changing later on within the narrative means it wasn't a valid point before, but in that case you still gotta acknowledge the change and explain what happened and WHY you think you're initial point still stands anyway.

If you can do that, great! Complain or praise away. But you can't just ignore it while getting pissed when you're asked to even just acknowledge it.

For example, Marinette didnt stop being violent towards Chat Noir, season 4 went out of its way to have her send the message for 26 episodes that he DESERVES pain because it's his responsibility to prevent her from even so much as feeling any desire to hurt him cause if she does, she always WILL. No holding back. Nothing.

She didn't stop being violent because she "learned her lesson", she canonically stopped because Adrien was forced to make it his Job to dismiss himself and micro manage Ladybug basically any second they are together so she doesn't get the chance to hurt him anymore. That's not her having grown, that's him knowing he has to survive her ass (which Elation, for example, is straight up showing on screen almost the entire episode) which she's now taking credit for doing the barest minimum by at least not physically hurting him anymore completely unprovoked (though, the show does say that not using him as punching bag is apparently also an insane amount of EFFORT on her part she must be rewarded for as well. How lovely)

If anyone asked me why im still saying that Maribug is violent towards Chat even if she improved since s4 (although, definitely not as much as people pretend she is. He's still the bait and scapegoat punching bag whenever she doesn't feel like thinking of a better strategy) then that's the answer I would give.

Her side of the flawed behaviour was not challenged by the narrative (instead, hsr violeng and hypocritical behaviour was validated and rewarded) she was not asked to learn her lesson, and is now actively regressing again in her s4 flaws in s6 the second she has more options than Chat Noir again.

But most importantly, she isn't violent anymore because Chat Noir was forced to take accountability for her treatment of him because of he doesn't wanna be brutalized, it's HIS job to prevent her from doing so. So now he isn't giving her a reason anymore. That's nothing Marinette deserves any credit for for "having grown and improved". She still treats him as if she's one wrong emotional reaction from him away from dishing out violence again to "correct him and his behaviour".

See? I made a whole argument and elaborated on WHY I am of the opinion I am by using canon characterization and plot development to make my point. You are free to disagree with me because you watch the show from another angle, but all I'm asking is for that disagreement to being more than "nuh-uh 😒 omg your so wrong".

In any aspect, im fine with being wrong. I would LOVE to hear actual counterarguments for my problems with Marinette's writing that isn't just "ignore it, how dare you treat canon as canon".

If anyone would actually explain to me HOW exactly Marinette is supposedly treating Chat Noir with respect, dignity, and care, then I would listen. If anyone actually had real canon proof for Marinette caring for the boy underneath the mask, I would happily listen.

Man, I would settle for Marinette stans doing so much as explaining even just little moments that show the depth of her care for him. Like in Passion when Marinette gave Mister Bug a compliment for how his suit made his REAL EYES look good because that was one of the two rare times she had the chance of seeing them and the first time around she took it for granted and overlooked it.

That moment has so much potential to be deeply interpreted and analysed in ways that highlight growth and her love and care for him.

But all Marinette stans ever do is laughing at Marinette catcalling Mister Bug and looking him up and down like prey.

If even Marinette stans can't be bothered to talk about anything genuine in nothing but vague ass words they copy and paste at everything while ignoring 70% of canon, then why am I wrong for not seeing more in canon as I am right now?

Clearly, even Marinette stans can't see anything or else they would talk about it.

---

Another argument that has no canon basis is the "just wait and see, the writers will definitely fix this!" one. Like, Adrien is being sidelined by the narrative for the third season in a row with only a few singular episodes breaking this pattern. We have canonical evidence none of this will be resolved in a way that will respect Adrien's worth and value, over fifty episodes of it. But because the rest of this show's 6 1/2 seasons haven't aired yet, people will keep arguing until they're blue in the face that this time for sure the writers will change how they write this show and fix this garbage. We just have to be patient enough and wait another ten years for it.

"You're just being impatient!" It's been four years tumblr user marinetterulesadriendrools! I'm starting to feel like you're arguing from a position of intellectual dishonesty here and are just trying to distract me so that I drop this and you can feel like you won the argument.

Because, like, that's what practically everything Maripologists have to say amounts to: distractions. It's all smoke and mirrors to make it look like they're making arguments but, in reality, none of it is anything of any real substance. That's also why I think arguing with them is a fruitless endeavour that will not enrich your understanding of the show or fandom in any way.

[qvvit]

yall . fuck this class im in im so bothered!!!!

[author-a-holmes]

I agree, actually!

I think "Don't edit while you write" is in the same box of advice ad-libs as "Cut your Adverbs" and "Show Don't Tell". Broad, unspecific, good for beginner writers to learn until they figure out their own method, and useful for the majority but almost certainly not everyone.

I'm somewhere in the middle myself. Generally, I don't edit as I go, but if I find something that's off — Something that, if I ignore it, is going to mean the next chain of events leads me WILDLY off course — then I cannot just go "oh, I'll fix that later", because it's changing the cause-and-effect of my plotline.

For example, I got about 90k words into Changeling, and realised I was off-track, and rewrote it from the beginning. When I got back to the place I'd started the rewrite at, everything had shifted to the left an inch, and it worked better, and I continued from that point.

For Darkling, I'm doing the same but instead of half a dozen small things, it's one big thing.

From the start I've had this once character I was specifically designing for the readers to hate. Only, now I've got everyone in a position where the only way to raise the stakes is for someone to get hurt... but I need everyone for the next chapter, except this character. The problem is, if she gets hurt, and everyone hates her, the readers won't care, so I've had to go back and redesign her entire character arc to make her more sympathetic.

A pain in my ass, but worthwhile, I'm sure.

And I also know some writers would tell me "Just pretend she's been the liked character, and keep moving forward", but I can't do that. This is going to fundamentally change who she is, and I need to understand her through writing her, to make her NEXT scenes make sense.

All this to say yes, don't edit while you write is good advice. But it's not the be-all-end-all, and as OP says, writing is unique to every writer.

Find what works for you, and stick with that!

Why I Edit As I Write (Even Though Everyone Says Not To)

hi. it's me. the writer who edits mid-sentence. the writer who literally cannot move on from chapter one until chapter one feels right. the writer who rewrites the same paragraph fourteen times before letting themselves move to the next. yes i've seen every single "just write, fix it later" post. yes, i love the idea of messy first drafts. and no i will not be changing

okay so listen everyone, here's the thing: i DON'T think editing as you go is inherently bad. it's only bad advice when people try to universalize it. writing process is personal. maybe for you it's a fast draft in November and editing in february. maybe for me it's hyper-fixating on every single sentence until the scene flows like water and then moving on with peace in my soul. BOTH ARE VALID. BOTH CAN WORK. both get the book done.

people love to say "don't edit while you draft" because, yeah perfectionism can slow you down. listen, i'm not editing for perfection, im editing for immersion. i need to feel like i'm inside the story or I'LL SPIRAL! if i know the voice is off, pacing is weird, or the character feels flat, i can't pretend i don't see it and continue. i can't push through. my brain physically will NOT LET ME!

when something sounds wrong or looks wrong, it breaks the spell. it kicks me out of the scene like a bad special effects in a movie. no seriously!! and once i'm out it's really hard pt get back in.

also, i'm gonna be real, i hate the feeling of finishing a draft and knowing the entire thing is a flaming wreck i now have to sift through. i HATE that feeling. it makes me never want to open that doc again. i need to be able to re-read my work and go, "okay yeah, this slaps a little." that's how i keep going. a little dopamine hit every few pages. if you call that toxic? i call it necessary.

side notes: there's a weird gatekeeping vibe around speed in the writing world. people act like if you're not cranking out 50k in 30 days, you're "not disciplined." but i'd argue that forcing yourself to write in a way that actively hurts your process isn't discipline. it's sabotage. if editing as i go keeps me working on a project long-term, keeps me engaged, keeps be BELIEVING in it, then it's a valid method

my best scenes? the ones i took slow. the ones i sculpted sentence by sentence. the ones i paused to read out loud, rework, and reimagine until the tension finally clicked. yeah it took hours. yeah it was annoying. but that scene still holds. it still makes me feel something. and that’s worth more to me than blasting through 10k of filler.

edit while you write. reread the last paragraph twelve times. fix that one clunky sentence before you let yourself go on. obsess a little. it’s fine.

rin t.

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Can you guys believe it's been over a year since I first drew her,,,,

[svtskneecaps]

honestly foolish's character walking the slightly meta line of "oo this'll be fun content" makes him feel like that marvel immortal character who is only immortal as long as he doesn't get bored (and was played by jeff goldblum in the movies). like idk why but the more i see of foolish's rp the more solidified the comparison gets in my mind.

like it's kinda cool for a headcanon ngl and also it means i'm not really surprised pikachu-ing when, say, he flips a coin to decide whether to rat out his son-in-law, or climbs into an incubator of corruption crystals, or doesn't ENTIRELY kick owen out of the kingdom. it's not that he doesn't CARE, but..... well, wouldn't it be interesting? don't you want to know what would happen?

[thedevilinmybrain]

.

[moneygoblin04]

Not doing great right now tbh. Probably proven by the fact that I got cut off by the tag limit. Fun fun fun fun fun.

[ilkkawhat]

i'm pretty sure my parents have heard herald of darkness more than nick's screams coming from my room at this point

[quitedisastrous]

i wish i could just do nothing for a few days straight. maybe even just sleep for a few days straight. sooo excited for constant misery over the next 20 days

ranting in the tags. i would just scroll past if i were you

[regular-lord-reckoner]

i am so glad this week is finally (almost) over

i had an appointment with my pcp on monday to see about this possible kidney stone situation

they did a urinalysis on me and sure enough i do have some blood in my urine so that plus the pain means it's likely there's a stone, but i'm in a situation again where i haven't had any pain for days so it's like...that's not good !! (especially since this has been going on for a few months at this point !)

they ordered me a ct scan which i had today so i'm hoping maybe sometime tomorrow i'll get the results of that and we can maybe figure out what's going on

i also had a dentist appointment on wednesday but it was just a cleaning and my dentist said everything looks good. it is kinda funny because i was actually supposed to have this appointment months ago but decided to reschedule because i had too much going on that week and so it got pushed out until now and then i end up having even more shit to do this week than i did back then so...oh well !! it's finally done

and tomorrow i've gotta do some of my usual errands (mostly taking the garbage off and getting a few things from the grocery store) and then i think i'll finally be done !! hopefully !!

hope you have a good, restful weekend coming up if you're reading this !! <3

[stairset]

I realize this could get me crucified in certain circles but as good as Andor was I really do think its fans can be truly insufferable.

[zevrans-archive]

[belovedspector]

.

[emeraldincandescent]

Post on my dash about medical debt reminded me of the time tumblr saved me two grand. I don't think I told y'all about it because I am out of the habit of posting everything I do on tumblr lol

So. Last December, I had a bad cavity filled, and about a week later, I woke up with half of my face paralyzed. Which, as I'm sure you can imagine, freaked me the fuck out. Fortunately I had some level-headed Discord friends who a) told me what Bell's palsy was so I could look it up and b) reminded me to call my dentist for an emergency appointment. Dentist was also pretty sure it was Bell's palsy, but urged me to go to the emergency room to get checked out, because one-sided facial paralysis is also a possible indicator of a stroke. And you don't fuck around with strokes.

Bell's palsy, if you, like me of 6 months ago, don't know, is a harmless paralysis/muscle weakness on one side of the face that can be caused by a variety of things. It usually goes away on its own after a few weeks but also you can speed up the process with steroids.

I was pretty sure I was not having a stroke, because I'm Red Cross first aid certified and I know the symptoms of a stroke, and while one-sided facial paralysis is one of them, I didn't have any of the others. Also, I had quit my shitty job in October, which meant I had a shiny new marketplace health insurance plan and hadn't even touched my deductible. But I called my parents from the car and they urged me to get checked out and promised to help me pay off the emergency room bill if I needed it, because they're good people and they love me even if they drive me crazy sometimes. So off I went to the nearest emergency room.

Emergency room staff also didn't think I was having a stroke, because I waited ALL AFTERNOON, periodically having a new person come up to me and ask me to smile, hold both arms out to the side, press down on their hands, and tell them what month and year it was. (They don't ask who the president is anymore. Hmm, I wonder why.) One guy had me drink a cup of water while he watched. I cannot stress enough that I did not have any medical tests other than a physical examination: no CT scans or MRIs, no IV drugs or blood draws, nothing.

I get diagnosed with Bell's palsy and given a prescription for Prednisone. And then they give me a phone number and tell me to talk to this person about administrative stuff. So I call, and the dude on the phone verifies my name and date of birth and insurance information, and then he says, "It looks like your copay today is going to be $2400. How would you like to pay?"

I am, to this day, kind of impressed that he didn't even stutter over that number, but I assume working in a medical call center drains your entire soul. At this point, it's about 7pm, and I've been in the hospital since 2pm, and I'm stressed because half my face doesn't work, and I know that I can't afford $2400 because I quit my shitty job with nothing lined up back in October. But, I still remember every tumblr post I've ever read about health insurance and the medical system and how you can negotiate down a bill. I am not looking forward to this process, it sounds like a pain in the ass, but the alternative is paying $2400, so I say the magic words: "Send me an itemized bill."

I kinda expected the guy to try and get me to pay up front, but he just says "Ok" and finishes up the process. I get discharged, go to the only open pharmacy at that time of night to get my Prednisone, have the pharmacist tell me the prescription isn't written right and he can't fill it, go home, and have a screaming sobbing meltdown because I have used up every single milligram of cope in my entire body. (I got my steroids eventually, and the Bell's palsy cleared up in a couple weeks.)

A few weeks later, I get the bill in the mail. I brace myself and open it...

$300.

Turns out, after going through insurance and processing and everything, they couldn't actually find $2400 worth of stuff to charge me for. Shocking! Who could have predicted!

I might have been able to argue it down even more, but I was fed up with entire thing, so I paid the $300 just to be fucking done with it. Sometimes the cheapest way to pay is with money.

What if I had paid that $2400 up front? Do I think they would have been like, "Oh, oops!" and refunded me $2k? Well, possibly, but I am not optimistic.

So, thank you to everyone who has ever posted about navigating the US healthcare system on tumblr. Because of you, I knew how to handle this situation even when I was tired and stressed.

Don't forget to ask for an itemized bill, folks.