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#interested to see how they glorify cops here :
arias-prosthetic-leg · 5 months
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Okay… I guess the urban fantasy element is pretty cool… and the music is admittedly really good… or whatever…
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sweatertheman · 6 months
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Even though Harry is completely unjustified in hating Dora as much as he does, I can understand emotionally why he can't help but see her as "the bitch that fucked him."
If I recall correctly, Harry only became a cop because of the influence she had on him. And it was becoming a cop that fucked him. He became a heavy-duty case solving machine, incapable of turning off, incapable of talking normally to people. He started drinking heavily, started coming apart at the seams. Being a cop turned him into a bad person (or worse, if he was already shitty) and made him lose his mind.
Thing is, there was no way Dora could have known that Harry would become the unstable man he became. She was just an average middle class woman, she didn't know how bad working as a detective could be, didn't know that Harry was someone suceptible to coming undone, likely didn't have the political education to understand that All Cops Are Bastards, and that Harry becoming one would make him into a bastard. Even if she did tell him he should become a cop, she can't be blamed for what he turned into. She had every right to leave when things crumbled.
But Harry, in the low point of his life, can't see that. He needs to blame Dora for making her love him, for encouraging him to become the man he became, and leaving him when he hit rock bottom. Because in his mind, its either that, or it's HIS fault, and everything bad that happened is because of him and the pain he did to others. A battle that goes on endlessly between Harry breaking down apologizing to everyone for being such a piece of shit and telling everyone to go fuck themselves for wronging him. A battle that continues because Harry, as a mentally unstable cop, can't concieve of the idea that both he and Dora are just flawed human beings who made mistakes, and that if he has to blame anyone, it should be the system.
It wasn't Dora's fault that Harry became a cop, it was the system's fault for glorifying the police. Both Harry and Dora here had good motives, wanted to make a difference and help people. But the police are just the lackeys of capital. They don't protect or serve anyone but the interests of the government and of each other. Police are given power over the people and encouraged to abuse it so long as they and their bosses get what they want. And Harry persisted, maybe because he still thought he was doing good work, maybe because he didn't want to let Dora down, or maybe because he just loved having power. And at the end of the day, the experience warped him into a broken man. And when Dora left him, all he had was his detective work, and some fading memories. It pushed him to drink himself to the point he forgot everything. And what thoughts can pop into his mind as soon as he wakes up?
"Officer? Am I millitary personnel?"
"Who would let me be an officer of the law?"
"I don't wanna be a cop anymore."
"Please come take me home. I don't want to be here anymore."
Free from (most of) the baggage, Harry can't fathom the idea that HE of all people is a cop. He wants to leave. He has to ask questions even if he doesn't want to. Harrier Du Bois is at war with the cop inside him. The thing that happens during the game is the process by which Harry rebecomes the thing which was killing him.
It was the Moralintern that fucked Harry. He could have been a real person. A revolutionary, a feminist, a father. But because of the Moralintern and general pro-police propaganda, he became a detective, lost everything, and slowly rotted into the unhinged bastard we know and... love..?????
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transmascpetewentz · 1 year
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Intro + Basic Stuff
It has been 5 days since a transandrophobe has been horrifyingly disrespectful of a gay trans man who died of AIDS on one of my posts or in my inbox.
It has been 3 days since a cis gay man has whined about his genital preference in my notes and/or inbox when I didn't ask.
If you're here because someone accused me of being a TERF, please know that I am not. Read this for more details.
I can't think of a name to use on this blog so just refer to me either by my URL or a silly nickname. My BYF as well as a few blinkies are under the cut.
my pronouns are he/him, but any are fine if you're clearly using them to show that you respect me. they/them is generally okay as long as you aren't using them to dehumanize me.
i prefer gendered terms (boy, girl, enby) over neutral terms, but i will block you if you use "girl" in a misgendering sense. malewife and similar terms are fine. also, this is highly unlikely to come up, but please don't call me "queen."
i'm USAmerican, and when i'm talking about issues, i'm likely talking about USAmerica unless i indicate otherwise.
i'm currently having brainrot about: fall out boy, american idiot, red white and royal blue, fallout new vegas, and velvet goldmine (the 1998 film).
i also post untagged discourse on this blog, specifically talking about transmasc issues, trans liberation, queer liberation, and how to be normal about transmascs if you aren't one.
i'm also looking into converting to judaism, and as such i might post about conversion and judaism in general. filter #judaism if you don't want to see it.
i'm part of a system, so it might not always be the same person answering asks. i probably won't post about it mostly because i want to stay out of syscourse.
all original posts are #wentz.txt, asks are #asks. if i ever have photos of myself on here, they'll be #wentz.jpg.
this blog runs on a queue, so just because i post doesn't mean i've been online recently.
this is my alternate account. i have a main blog that i'm ignoring due to harassment. if you have me blocked on my main and try to follow me here, i'm blocking you for your own sake.
cis women are welcome to follow but don't touch any of my posts making fun of cis gay men or i will bite you.
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blog rules:
no, i'm never sharing my age on here.
tag filtering: flashing, eyestrain, loud, violence cw, sexual assault cw, pedophilia cw, self harm cw, suicide cw, not worksafe, long post, anon hate, arguing with bigots, fascism cw.
please do not ask me about whether i am pro or anti ship, whether i support endogenic systems, or my views on intracommunity issues i'm not part of.
i'm autistic and as such might not understand if i'm making you uncomfortable. please either block me or DM me and tell me to stop doing something.
i won't reblog your callout post, reblog bait, guilt tripping, or donation post. an exception might be made for your donation post if we're mutuals.
if i don't block you, then i don't mind you following me. i don't softblock. please don't softblock me either, just block or else i'll refollow.
if i have reblogs enabled on a post, i'm fine with anyone reblogging it. if i have replies enabled, i'm fine with anyone replying.
if you're going to send anon hate, it has to be interesting, original, funny, and/or creative.
also, if you're going to send anon hate, please refrain from calling me slurs, sending me death threats, sexually harassing me, or misgendering me. also, please censor the name sh***a, or don't use the name at all in your ask.
i don't really have a dni, but i will block you if: you fetishize gay men or trans men, you support capitalism and/or cops, you glorify the actions of the ussr, you deny that transandrophobia exists, you think that feminine cis men are more oppressed than feminine trans men.
actually, i have to add a dni now: please dni if you falsely accuse gay men who died of aids of sexual assault. yes, someone like this tried to interact with me.
That should be it for now!
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words-after-midnight · 6 months
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Boy, @flashfictionfridayofficial, do I ever have a contribution to this one! I've been waiting for an opportunity to share this piece, which I wrote a while back as a warm-up for my wip The Dotted Line's narrator's voice. I polished it up to share. It's technically 123 words too long, so just think of it as 123 bonus words. 😅
For undisclosed reasons I suspect this may be of particular interest to Life in Black and White's beta readers. 😉 @sunset-a-story @joeys-piano @ananarchie @catchingbigfish
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IN CONVERSATION ✉️
Stream of consciousness | 1,123 words
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I’m told my friend is visiting today.
He visits once a month, on the dot. Tries to, at least. When my will and that of the swine overlords allow it; when boredom or restlessness or the fleeting desire to see a man who thinks I hung the stars coincide with his schedule. When all necessary factors align like celestial bodies in a ritual, I suppose. I see him then.
He visits more than anyone else. More than my father, my wannabe stepmother, my doting long-distance grandmother. Certainly more than the other losers on the outside who've long since abandoned their misguided notions of me. Don’t misunderstand me - I appreciate his dedication, foolish and perplexing though I may find it. Considering how little I offer in return, it’s impressive.
He loves me, you see.
We were close, once, in a sense. I’m sure he recalls it that way. I’m skilled in the art of beautiful illusions; I cannot provide “close,” but I can craft a convincing approximation, which can be useful. It can even be fun. With him, it was often fun. But it’s been years, now, and still he clings to me like a pathetic, starving puppy I cannot shake from my leg. I don't always want to, but sometimes, I do. I find myself of two minds today, like bouncing on a seesaw. Ambivalence declawed.
And so, shortly before the scheduled time, I’m led through the security checks. Clearance obtained, a C.O. takes me down to the basement floor, down a Silence of the Lambs-esque hallway, to the gray-walled room, seventh door on the right from the clanking, rusting metal staircase.
He’s already there when we walk in, as always, sitting stiffly at a table along the far wall, near the vending machines. The room isn’t busy, I note. The wall clock above his head reveals I’m here hours earlier than usual.
Today's escort, Stella, leads me directly to the table. She’s on a power trip, but she's not hard on the eyes - though the whole ‘glorified mall cop’ aspect ruins it. With a pointed glance she tells me, sternly, “You have an hour.”
“Yes, Mama,” I mutter - sardonically, under my breath - as she walks off. It’s doubtful she heard me, but I don’t particularly care either way.
My sorry bastard of a friend, on the other hand, definitely heard me. He chuckles as he stands. “Behave,” he says, in jest.
I grin, self-mocking. “You heard nothing.”
As always, I feign enthusiasm, pulling him into a brief, casual embrace. Yet his arms always hold me a little too long, and squeeze a little too tightly. He thinks I don’t know. It’s hilarious. It’s revolting. On occasion, I’ve begun to regret creating this monster, I think. I think perhaps that’s the expected response.
We sit across from each other at the little white table. He looks at me, smiling. I can tell he still tastes me when he swallows, a nagging aftertaste at the back of his throat.
“How are you?” he asks.
“Sleepy,” I reply, elbow on the table, chin resting in my open palm. “Why’d you come so early?”
He shrugs. “Sorry. Have to be in shape for work on Monday.”
“Still at the same place?”
“Yeah, same place.”
A loud pause that bounces off the walls. Around the room three other tables are occupied, out of about twelve. It’s quiet enough that I can overhear voices, but we’re spread out enough that I can’t make out words. For their sake, I hope their conversation partners are more interesting than mine. A shame, really. He once worked so hard for my attention, but I suppose he’s lost himself over time.
“What’s new?” he asks, breaking the silence. Squirming, though he tries to hide it. It’s like he scrambles to find words in a mess of strewn-about letters. What’s wrong, hm? They used to come so easily.
I lean back in my chair, draping an arm lazily about its back. “Oh, same old, same old.”
“Still working?” he asks.
“Yeah. They’ll throw me in the hole if I don’t.”
“Right.”
The inside of my brain feels like watching paint dry.
“How’s the wife?” I ask.
He smiles. “She’s good.”
“She know you’re here right now?”
His brow dips infinitesimally, like he caught himself a split-second too late. He’s so predictable. It bores me.
“Yeah,” he finally says. “Why wouldn’t she?”
I shrug. Smile. “Dunno. Just figured maybe you wanted it to be our little secret.”
Another pause, delectably tense. His flustered eyes shift downward; mine dart, furtively, to the wall clock to my left. It’s not that I mind the visits, necessarily. They occupy me for an hour - sometimes longer, depending on who’s watching the room - and add variety to a monotone routine too rarely peppered by fleeting chaos. Often, though, the journey to and from the visitation room ends up being the most interesting part. He was entertaining, once, in another time, but now, it’s like he restrains himself. Sometimes I really do wish he would leave for good. It’s not like he has much to offer me now, especially as it seems even our conversations have turned grayscale.
“The table isn’t level,” he comments suddenly.
I force a dry laugh. “No shit. We’re lucky if they stand up at all.”
I glance at the clock again, wanting fleetingly to call the officer over so I can leave - if only so that the walk back upstairs might provide a moment’s respite from the unrelenting, creepy-crawling boredom. It doesn’t bother me that much, to tell you the truth. It isn’t uncomfortable, per se. It’s just always there, near the lower end of my awareness threshold - a low hum, a background conversation that you overhear, but that doesn’t quite capture you.
With an hour spent in mostly dull, meaningless chatter, he finally rises to leave. We hug again - briefly, ceremoniously. He says ‘bye,’ I say ‘see you next time.’
As I’m led from the room, back up the metal stairs and toward a different flavor of boredom, I wonder, bemused, if the expected response might be to take pity on my friend. But why should I? Why should he take it so personally? Why is that my problem? It's not like I get off on being cruel. It's not that I want to not care. I just don’t. Perhaps things would have worked out for him if I were naïve, if I did not know to be ruthless in taking what I want because it’s the only way I will ever get it.
It’s a shame, for him, sure. It's just no one’s fault, but the way of the world. Only the strong survive.
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nicholsroy · 5 months
Text
IN CONVERSATION ✉️
Stream of consciousness | 1,123 words
Originally shared on my main blog on 22-03-24.
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I'm told my friend is visiting today.
He visits once a month, on the dot. Tries to, at least. When my will and that of the swine overlords allow it; when boredom or restlessness or the fleeting desire to see a man who thinks I hung the stars coincide with his schedule. When all necessary factors align like celestial bodies in a ritual, I suppose. I see him then.
He visits more than anyone else. More than my father, my wannabe stepmother, my doting long-distance grandmother. Certainly more than the other losers on the outside who've long since abandoned their misguided notions of me. Don’t misunderstand me - I appreciate his dedication, foolish and perplexing though I may find it. Considering how little I offer in return, it’s impressive.
He loves me, you see.
We were close, once, in a sense. I’m sure he recalls it that way. I’m skilled in the art of beautiful illusions; I cannot provide “close,” but I can craft a convincing approximation, which can be useful. It can even be fun. With him, it was often fun. But it’s been years, now, and still he clings to me like a pathetic, starving puppy I cannot shake from my leg. I don't always want to, but sometimes, I do. I find myself of two minds today, like bouncing on a seesaw. Ambivalence declawed.
And so, shortly before the scheduled time, I’m led through the security checks. Clearance obtained, a C.O. takes me down to the basement floor, down a Silence of the Lambs-esque hallway, to the gray-walled room, seventh door on the right from the clanking, rusting metal staircase.
He’s already there when we walk in, as always, sitting stiffly at a table along the far wall, near the vending machines. The room isn’t busy, I note. The wall clock above his head reveals I’m here hours earlier than usual.
Today's escort, Stella, leads me directly to the table. She’s on a power trip, but she's not hard on the eyes - though the whole ‘glorified mall cop’ aspect ruins it. With a pointed glance she tells me, sternly, “You have an hour.”
“Yes, Mama,” I mutter - sardonically, under my breath - as she walks off. It’s doubtful she heard me, but I don’t particularly care either way.
My sorry bastard of a friend, on the other hand, definitely heard me. He chuckles as he stands. “Behave,” he says, in jest.
I grin, self-mocking. "You heard nothing."
As always, I feign enthusiasm, pulling him into a brief, casual embrace. Yet his arms always hold me a little too long, and squeeze a little too tightly. He thinks I don’t know. It’s hilarious. It’s revolting. On occasion, I’ve begun to regret creating this monster, I think. I think perhaps that’s the expected response.
We sit across from each other at the little white table. He looks at me, smiling. I can tell he still tastes me when he swallows, a nagging aftertaste at the back of his throat.
"How are you?" he asks.
“Sleepy,” I reply, elbow on the table, chin resting in my open palm. “Why’d you come so early?”
He shrugs. “Sorry. Have to be in shape for work on Monday.”
"Still at the same place?"
"Yeah, same place."
A loud pause that bounces off the walls. Around the room three other tables are occupied, out of about twelve. It’s quiet enough that I can overhear voices, but we’re spread out enough that I can’t make out words. For their sake, I hope their conversation partners are more interesting than mine. A shame, really. He once worked so hard for my attention, but I suppose he’s lost himself over time.
“What’s new?” he asks, breaking the silence. Squirming, though he tries to hide it. It’s like he scrambles to find words in a mess of strewn-about letters. What’s wrong, hm? They used to come so easily.
I lean back in my chair, draping an arm lazily about its back. “Oh, same old, same old.”
"Still working?" he asks.
“Yeah. They’ll throw me in the hole if I don’t.”
"Right."
The inside of my brain feels like watching paint dry.
"How's the wife?" I ask.
He smiles. “She’s good.”
“She know you're here right now?"
His brow dips infinitesimally, like he caught himself a split-second too late. He’s so predictable. It bores me.
“Yeah,” he finally says. “Why wouldn’t she?”
I shrug. Smile. “Dunno. Just figured maybe you wanted it to be our little secret.”
Another pause, delectably tense. His flustered eyes shift downward; mine dart, furtively, to the wall clock to my left. It’s not that I mind the visits, necessarily. They occupy me for an hour - sometimes longer, depending on who’s watching the room - and add variety to a monotone routine too rarely peppered by fleeting chaos. Often, though, the journey to and from the visitation room ends up being the most interesting part. He was entertaining, once, in another time, but now, it’s like he restrains himself. Sometimes I really do wish he would leave for good. It’s not like he has much to offer me now, especially as it seems even our conversations have turned grayscale.
“The table isn’t level,” he comments suddenly.
I force a dry laugh. “No shit. We’re lucky if they stand up at all.”
I glance at the clock again, wanting fleetingly to call the officer over so I can leave - if only so that the walk back upstairs might provide a moment’s respite from the unrelenting, creepy-crawling boredom. It doesn’t bother me that much, to tell you the truth. It isn’t uncomfortable, per se. It’s just always there, near the lower end of my awareness threshold - a low hum, a background conversation that you overhear, but that doesn’t quite capture you.
With an hour spent in mostly dull, meaningless chatter, he finally rises to leave. We hug again - briefly, ceremoniously. He says ‘bye,’ I say ‘see you next time.’
As I’m led from the room, back up the metal stairs and toward a different flavor of boredom, I wonder, bemused, if the expected response might be to take pity on my friend. But why should I? Why should he take it so personally? Why is that my problem? It's not like I get off on being cruel. It's not that I want to not care. I just don’t. Perhaps things would have worked out for him if I were naïve, if I did not know to be ruthless in taking what I want because it’s the only way I will ever get it.
It’s a shame, for him, sure. It's just no one’s fault, but the way of the world. Only the strong survive.
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pierayanna · 1 month
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Thoughts on US election
it’s concerning how normalized performing for social media is. and it’s gotten to the point that I don’t even people realize it because they’re performing for themselves not necessarily to be seen by others. cause how are yall so happy, ecstatic even, to cast your vote for a cop genocidaire but was just posting “Free Palestine” & “Justice for Sonya” ??? Literally publicly celebrating voting for such evil.
and it was plenty of *genuine* bipoc leftists that obviously understood our experience under trump & limitations of third party candidates and were clearly for voting for Harris. even sharing these ideas. but the vitriol yall had for them saying to not just give this woman the vote and push her to not be *as* evil was soo bizarre. Yall keep saying lesser evil and now your red line isn’t even genocide??? These people actually know the theory, practice it, and actually do things besides vote every 4 years, yet yall were so quick to dismiss them and antagonize them for trying to push the candidate *yall both want* to stop killing thousands of people???
I understanding voting in your best interest. I don’t understand sacrificing millions of lives for it and I don’t understand CELEBRATING & PRAISING people committing atrocities. Just vote. And Harris knows yall don’t care about any of the genocides which is why she had that entire performance telling people protesting HER administration murdering hundreds of thousands of people to stop speaking or someone else would continue the killing. ??? And yall celebrated that ??? Because if yall listened to people trying pressure her with their vote (the way it should be done if you are going to participate in this evil institution) to push her to change her evil policies, she probably would have changed them (or at least claimed to)
And do yall genuinely know her policies… because it’s giving AKA trump
Be the same people who don’t understand our struggles are all connected but want to post Malcolm X. The same people who don’t understand the IDF trains OUR police force. The people that murdered Sonya. The same people who fear monger worse every 4 years to get the democratic vote but don’t understand fascism has been here. The same people that post love, light, & biblical scriptures (I can’t take yall seriously lmaooo). Yall legitimize these evil institutions that only care about capital so much and jump to able to celebrate them. That’s really the part that’s getting me, like okay share your candidate, but to praise and celebrate and glorify a cop genocidaire?? Unconditionally??? No pressure to stop committing genocide, no pressure to change her policies (the few I’ve seen because there’s none on her website lmaooo) that resemble project 2025, just praise & glory for a genocidal lady.
And I hate this but I guess yall genuinely do not care unless it’s literally you or your family (and you’ll probably give a modicum of a fuck then, not enough to not be in service to the empire, eager to celebrate them)
Also (thought I was done lmaoo) yall don’t understand the merit in community. So busy trying to play the empires game in which you will always lose, you don’t see how you can stop playing it without destroying it first. Because people will need support once the empire falls anyway. How about build that community with everything you need first anyway?? Nvm that building sovereignty is how you can escape capitalism’s grip anyway.
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nikkiruncks · 6 months
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Hey Poorni, I mostly just lurk here but sometimes check in with your account and am always blown away by how quickly and drastically you change your mind on so many people and ships! Like on a Wednesday you'll post several times about a pair being a notp and by Thursday you're praising them as an otp and reblogging them constantly and then by Friday or Saturday you're disliking them again lol. For example, you've gone from going on about how much you hate Neia to suddenly calling them an OTP lol. A few weeks ago you didn't like Zaya at all and now they're like your biggest OTP ever. You liked Kitty and then hated her more than anyone I'd ever seen and then will swing back to liking her. And so on. We all change our minds about some ships and characters, and it's great to have an open mind. I'm just curious what causes you to go from hate to love to hate to love again on so many characters and ships so quickly---is it based on rewatches, reading other people's metas, Or do you just kind of wake up feeling totally different than you did the day before? You can ignore if you want to, I'm just always into learning about what makes fans tick, and you changing your opinions so frequently interests me!
First of all, I love long asks so ty for sending this haha!
Secondly, I wouldn't exactly saying that my love for characters and ships change day by day. It's actually the opposite most of the time where it's very drastic.
Like with Kitty, as a kid I liked her but then I saw a few threads on her and I was like 'ok she is kind of annoying when I think about it'. Then rewatching at like 16-17 (i think 17 tbh), she's very irritating and I feel like she's glorified WAY too much (especially in t7s). So then I started having more complex feelings but then after a few more discussions with my friend Sunshine and rewatches, Kitty is actually pretty fucking annoying. She babies Eric and literally never sees him as an adult, slut shames Donna for having sex with Eric and seems to think Donna "corrupts" him. And don't even get me started on how shitty she treats Laurie. I know Laurie is far from perfect, but no one deserves to have to hear their own mother say 'i love you because I have to' and 'Rosemary made a better baby than me'.
It sounds like I'm overreacting but honestly idc. Kitty is not this sweet little good cop to Red's bad cop and she sure as hell didn't have any "character assassination" like Jackie, Kelso, and even Eric did in T9S.
With Zaya, I really loved them as a kid but then hated them because of the shit Zig would pull on Maya. When I did come back to the fandom for good, I had moreso complicated feelings where they're pretty toxic but they can be good together and I'm glad they're endgame. And then I started looking at more Zaya stuff (mostly from Ashton haha) doing rewatches, which made me go back to loving them full force. I still have love for Matlingsworth, Camaya, Zori, and find Zesme interesting at times, but I love Zaya a lot too and I'm glad they're endgame.
As for Neia, I don't think I had much of an opinion on my first watch. I might've been annoyed by them. But I did prefer Jeia over everything. And when I got to Tumblr and did more rewatches, read fics and all that, I was really just done with Neia. My main issue with them has always been how they fucked over Nikki and don't even get me started on how ooc Gwen's advice to Leia was on handling that shit. Plus I didn't see any substance with them aside from having the same wants. Then I ended up being moreso fascinated by the idea of Neia crashing and burning, leading to a Jeia/Geia endgame.
There was a short period where I really wanted to be more open minded with Neia, so I tried looking at the more shippy stuff but I just couldn't do it haha. But eventually I tried again, hence me shipping them now.
Don't get me wrong, my issues with canon Neia are still there. Especially the substance parts, but I personally blame that on the writing more. For all Lindsey's claims of loving Neia, she sure doesn't act like she loves them. Until the 9th episode, they didn't have any alone time. Which, by a writing person, doesn't make sense because Leia is canonically best friends with Nate's sister AND in the dame friend groupl. Not to mention, Leia dated Nate's best friend, yet they don't interact one on one till the NINTH episode? Not even like them accidentally bumping into each other. Like come on!
Short answer: Metas, rewatches, (rarely) discussions, etc.
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t4tdanvis · 11 months
Note
AND HERE I AM AGAIN. I ALWAYS COME BACK! Okay so I may be reaching here but-
So before we start this TW for mentions of  Garte and of emotional child abuse and child expirementation and possession and slight Ivy neg? okay now we have that cleared let’s go-
Okay so on the topic of mystreet and dairies Garroth, let’s talk about The depersonalisation or dehumanisation of Garroth. I am not sure if that’s the right term, depersonalisation is about lack of own identity, dehumanisation is stripping someone away from their positive human traits. But I don’t mean either of that, I mean just treating someone as not human?  Garroth is often either extremely over idealised in pdh or seen as a moron in mystreet.
First off his father over glorified him, him being the golden child and all. Being the golden child actually sucks. You have all the pressures, and the feeling of being a fraud as he was praised for stuff he didn’t do. We see Garte canonically praising him for stuff he hasn’t done. And this causes feelings of being a fraud and a fear of being exposed.
Then we have all his fangirls in highschool, obsessing over him and over glorifying him yet again. He isn’t recognised for him as a whole with his flaws, he isn’t recognised as just a human. And on top of that, I noticed a trend of the better people know Garroth the more distant more people seem to get from him. This probably increases the feelings of being a fraud. 
He is the comedic relief now, to the point some fans don’t recognise him of having any serious sad feelings at all because he is the comedic relief. Now everyone just sees Garroth as an idiot, too dumb to be seen as a person.
And you have the fact he was experimented on, a very dehumanising experience probably. They also refer to them in code names[those being numbers]  making it more dehumanising, in a scene in starlight you see a photo of Garroth as a toddler with 01 under it, katelyn being 02 and Travis 03. This hints he was the first to get experimented on.  that's irrelevant really but I just wanted to mention it because it makes Garte look even worse.
Not to mention his possession being one of the most depersonalising and dehumanising ones of all. As unlike all the others, he doesn’t say anything except a few words during it and doesn’t show off much if any emotion at all. The screen also goes over to Garroth when Michael says “And your little toys are mine” basically referring to Garroth as a toy. Garroth during the possession is also almost like a robot, or a puppet, he attacks Nana being in the way but doesn’t continue because he directly switches targets when ordered to. Seeing yourself act like that and someone in your friend’s body boss you around like that is sure to mess you up you know. And then you have him becoming a werewolf, making him “less human” too.
Despite being basic he isn't really like his peers in a way. Oh also his basicness in itself is also kinda depersonalising, ‘Golden children’ often end up having to perform to please their parent. Due to this act to keep their status they often lack individuality and creativity. Perfectly in line with Garroth’s basicness and lack of an interesting taste and so forth. A lack of an personal identity. this is soo interesting with it being implies Elizabeth made the Ro'meave's forget about Garte in the mystreet season 6 finale. That's an identity crisis waiting to happened.
He also turns his own feelings into jokes in a way. Making his fear of Ivy and her blackmailing him to be with her in pdh season 2 aswell as constantly making him uncomfortable and just making it all about her getting his name wrong. As if he doesn't recognise his own feelings so he searches for a superficial reason to explain the feelings he is feeling. And how he after that forces himself to get over it without a real apology for it from Ivy, I think? I only remember her apologising to Aphmau and explaining her lisp to Garroth. And we have in the good cop bad cop sidestory thing where in a conversation it was revealed his bad cop joke was actually backed up by him actually distrusting Gene. But after a conversation with Laurance he gets Gene a house a few episodes later. He undervalues his own feelings in a way. Like how Garte undervalues Garroth's reluctance to inheret the company and still makes him do so.
AUGHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD THANK YOU ANON i am furiously writing this all down to use in my rewrite i love this so so much
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makeste · 4 years
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BnHA Chapter 300: Days of Our Todorokis
Previously on BnHA: Hawks was all “hey Jeanist, wanna go on a road trip with me to my mom’s house?” Jeanist was all “you know it,” and so they hopped into Jeanist’s jercedes and took off. Hawks took a nap and had a flashback to his Dickensian childhood living in a abject poverty with his jerk mom and jerk dad, thinking heroes were make-believe until one day Endeavor arrested his dad and Baby Hawks was all “OH SHIT.” And then he saved a bunch of people, and the HPSC was all “what do we have here,” and blah blah blah, you know the rest. Back in the present, Hawks was all “well my life is currently in shambles, but on the plus side there’s no one bossing me around anymore so that’s pretty cool,” and then decided he was going to talk to Endeavor. Fandom was all “I can’t believe Hawks would side with his childhood hero over the man who burned his wings off and posted a video calling him a violent murderer who took after his abusive dad,” so that was fun and stuff. I can’t wait to see what piping fresh takes this new chapter will bring.
Today on BnHA: Our old friend Carbonation Carl tries to loot a Starbucks and gets his ass kicked by a senior citizen. Society is all “YEAH, WE’RE REALLY STARTING TO GET SICK OF THIS SHIT.” Old Man Samurai is all “this room won’t stop me because I can’t read it” and abruptly decides to retire, which, fun fact, is literally THE LEAST HELPFUL THING ANYONE HAS EVER DONE. Anyway so then a bunch of other punkasses follow suit, and while I won’t say that I’m actually starting to root for Stain to kill some peeps, just for the record I’m not not saying that either. Back in the hospital, Endeavor cries some tears because his life sucks, and then is confronted by his entire family, LED BY QUEEN REI, FIRST OF HER NAME, BACK IN BUSINESS AND LARGE AND IN CHARGE. Rei is all “fuck feeling sorry for yourself, we have a rogue Murder Son on the loose” and I swear to god I have never felt so alive.
so here we go! and just for the record, even though the last two chapters have been phenomenal, I don’t necessarily have any sky-high expectations for chapter 300, mostly because chapters 100 and 200 consisted of Mei Boobs, and Toadette and her horrific quirk lmao. so go ahead Horikoshi, what are you gonna pull out of your hat for this one
oh, back to this stuff again. sob
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I guess there was only so much time we could spend having hospital antics and exploring Hawks’s past before we got back to dealing with the whole “the world has gone to absolute shit” issue huh, lol
omg
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what’s with these bizarrely cute Noumus. why do I want to pet them
so the narrative text is going on about how people have been super paranoid about the Noumu ever since the USJ incident a year ago. so yeah, I guess the fact that there are now a bunch of them confirmed to be running around is really freaking people out even on top of everything else
wtf is happening here
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what did this poor lil glass ever do to anyone. r.i.p.
OH MY FUCKING GOD
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SODA SAM IS BACK ON THE LAM
tsk tsk tsk. my man has graduated from snatching purses to raiding cafes. going after that big money. this man has no business sense whatsoever lmao
OH BUT WATCH IT NOW!!
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OH SNAP THE PEOPLE ARE FIGHTING BACK. WHATCHA GONNA DO NOW SAM
THIS MAN IS 172 YEARS OLD AND HE’S NOT HERE TO PLAY GAMES!!
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WTF IS HE LIGHTING THIS THING ON FIRE OR SOME SHIT. GETTEM GRANDPA YEAHHHH HE’S CHARGING AT EM YEAHHHHHH
lmao so that was fun. and now we’re cutting to Wash!! omg. look at him
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he’s so dedicated. too bad you don’t have a car like Best Jeanist. probably takes a while when you’re just running everywhere
you see?? you were too slow!!
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NOOOO, GRANDPA. he defeated Pepsi Pete, but lost his life in the process. this is too tragic
anyway so the good news is that the cafe has been saved! but the bad news is, there really isn’t much of a cafe left. huh. I guess that’s one of the reasons why people are supposed to get a license to use their quirks like this
oh snap and now everyone is coming outside, and they’re none too happy to see poor old Wash over here
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seriously Wash, get a bicycle or something. also the way this guy is gesturing so dramatically with his hand in this sort of “YOU SEE!! YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS!!” manner is sending me
OH MY GOD
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HE SPEAKS. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS. IT MEANS JEANS PUNS ARE YESTERDAY’S NEWS, FOLKS!! MAKE WAY FOR THE LAUNDRY PUNS. CAN’T WAIT TO WATCH THIS ALL... UNFOLD
“the heroes had dwindled away” okay real talk you guys, it is literally only a matter of time before they press-gang the children into picking up their slack. I still don’t know how to feel about that, but it is happening one way or the other regardless. Child Soldiers 2 Electric Boogaloo. wonder if we’ll see a rise in vigilante action as well
OHO WHAT’S THIS? THIS IS A CHAPTER OF GRANDPAS HUH
-- no fucking way
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WOW. WOW. WOWWWWWW
wow. so he didn’t do a fucking thing while the rest of the top ten were being turned into red mist in the previous arc, and now that it’s all over and they need his help more than ever, he decides... THAT IT’S TIME TO RETIRE. holy shit. “fuck you” doesn’t even begin to cover it my guy. you stand there and soak up those boos you coward
ohhhhhhh shiiiiit you guys. oh shit
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the “I am not here” breaks my fucking heart for real though y’all. oh man. everything he worked for is gone just like that
(ETA: okay so a couple of the takes I’ve seen on this make it seem like All Might is somehow the bad guy here?? “this is what happens when society puts a bunch of glorified cops on a pedestal”, “finally the cracks in hero society are showing”, etc. etc. so, just a friendly reminder that this isn’t happening because of too much trust and a lack of critical thinking; this is happening because the villains killed all the heroes and broke a bunch of murderers out of jail. it’s happening because an organized league of terrorists succeeded in terrorizing, and so society is now understandably awash in fear and panic. like, it’s just wild to me that AFO is RIGHT FUCKING THERE, and yet week after week fandom still has their “IT’S ALL THE HEROES’ FAULT” signs still up on their lawns. BUT WHATEVER, MOVING ON.)
also though, so exactly how much time is passing here now? I wanted to go straight back to the hospital and see what happens with Deku and the Todorokis. please don’t tell me we’re jumping ahead sob. my aaaaangst
OH SHIT
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STAIN. LISTEN UP BUDDY. I KNOW WE’VE HAD OUR DIFFERENCES, AND I STILL DESPISE YOU FOR CRIPPLING TENSEI AND TRYING TO KILL MY BEST BOY TENYA. BUT AS IT HAPPENS, THERE ARE ONE OR TWO OTHER HEROES OUT THERE NOW WHO I WOULDN’T MIND YOU PAYING A VISIT I’M JUST SAYING
LOL BUT IT ACTUALLY ISN’T THIS MAN, FFFFFF
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sob. yeah I was talking about Old Man Samurai actually but YEAH. HEY THERE ENJI
also is this entire hospital actually run by characters from Super Mario Bros though. first Yoshi and now this guy, come the fuck on that is not a coincidence
lmao they stuck him in another one of these cavernous creepy hospital rooms
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wtf is it with Horikoshi and these giant fucking rooms lately. Kacchan’s in chapter 298, then Tomie’s colossal house furnished with like one table and a TV, and now this. and the weirdest thing about it though is that “huge space with nothing to fill it up” is like the exact opposite of what you’ll usually find in Japanese homes lol
so now Enji is just sitting there thinking things like “my head is fuzzy” and “I’m alive” lmao okay. not quite all there yet, huh. I’ll give you a minute
I’m so fucking curious as to who his first visitor is going to be omg. either way it’s going to be interesting af, and either way fandom is probably going to feel some way about it but OH WELL
okay now his thoughts are getting more coherent! and he’s remembering Touya, and feeling regret for freezing up and forcing Shouto to deal with everything instead
!!! OH HERE GOES BRACE YOURSELVES Y’ALL IT’S ABOUT TO GET SPICY
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NO TOUYA PLEASE DON’T CRY HONEY NO PLEASE
ohhhhhhh man
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okay, I mean I didn’t expect you to, but so instead then you’re just going to do... what? lie there and wallow in regret and self-pity for the rest of your life? son you know that’s not how we deal with our problems here in Shounen
though also, I totally do get it though. honestly, thinking on it, I probably would have been disappointed with any other response. but so this is where the rest of his family (including his adopted son) come into play now though, because like it or not they’re all in this thing together. and so friends, I am once again asking you WHO IS GOING TO BE THE ONE TO VISIT ENJI FIRST
AHHHHHHH
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KRANCH!!!! OMG AND THE OTHERS ARE SO TINY NEXT TO HIM THAT I ALMOST DIDN’T SEE THEM AT FIRST. IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE TWENTY MILES AWAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS REGULATION HOCKEY RINK OF A ROOM
holy shit I’m so excited lkjlklhlglkasdsjldfk
SDKFJLSKHLKJL
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the way she has him by his collar lmaoooo. “lol nah you’re not going anywhere pal.” damn straight, siblings have to be ride or die in situations like this. banding together for survival. strength in numbers
OH MY STARS I’M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT I’M ABOUT TO DISSECT EVERY LAST REMAINING PANEL OF THIS CHAPTER PROBABLY YOU GUYS. WE COULD BE HERE A WHILE
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love how Fuyu has absolutely no idea how to segue into THE SINGLE MOST AWKWARD CONVERSATION SHE’S EVER HAD, so she just GOES FOR IT in pure small talk mode like they’re meeting up for brunch somewhere
I KNOW IT’S A SMALL THING, BUT I APPRECIATE THAT THE FIRST THING ENJI ASKS IS WHETHER THEY’RE OKAY
lastly while I can’t wait for more of this delicious Natsu angst, I also just have to say that Enji has as much reason to cry right now as anyone on the planet. you can’t deny that being confronted by your not-dead-but-you-thought-he-was-dead son who’s all “SURPRISE DAD I GREW UP TO BE A MASS MURDERER AND I HATE YOU AND EVERYTHING IS ALL YOUR FAULT AND NOW I’M GONNA MAIM YOUR OTHER KID” with a side order of “EVERYONE HATES YOU AND SOCIETY IS CRUMBLING AND NOTHING WILL EVER BE GOOD EVER AGAIN” is enough to bum pretty much anyone out. there’s a Pagliacci the Clown joke here somewhere. BUT DOCTOR, I AM THE NUMBER ONE HERO
oh man lol he is seriously falling apart
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damn. like you guys, I’m sorry, go ahead and cancel me, but I do feel compassion for the man. it’s therapeutic for me to see an abuser actually feel remorse and be truly sorry and want to change and want to make it up to his family. and it’s also compelling as fuck to read a narrative about a family that’s trying to grapple with that, because let me tell you straight up, as someone who’s done a version of that song and dance -- it is exhausting. it is a piping hot mess. it’s a gigantic mishmosh of extremely volatile emotions that all somehow all contradict one another. love, hurt, hope, anger, betrayal, resentment, attachment, longing. it’s something you can both be desperate for and also want nothing at all to do with. and attempting to portray all of that and write about it is a monumental task, and one which Horikoshi has done so, so delicately thus far, and damn but I appreciate it. anyway, so I’m here and I’m ready for my latest helping of Todoroki Fam Feels you guys
GASP
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oh man. OHMANOHMANOHMAN. CAN IT REALLY BE. IS THIS THE REDEMPTION ARC OF CHAPTERS 100 AND 200???
LMAO SHE’S ALL “WE ALL FEEL BAD YOU JACKASS STOP CRYING ABOUT IT”
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LAY INTO HIM REI!! SORRY ENJI YOUR PITY PARTY HAS BEEN CANCELLED IN FAVOR OF A “SO WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT” PARTY COURTESY OF QUEEN ELSA OVER HERE. THE PEOPLE TOOK A VOTE AND WE WANT LESS WHINING AND MORE ACTION
oh my god look at this lady folks
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NOTE THE HAIR BLOWING IN THE NONEXISTENT WIND. NOW WE KNOW WHERE SHOUTO GOT THIS POWER FROM
(ETA: btw guys, seeing Rei handle this crisis like an absolute champ despite everything she’s been through is everything, though. I’m reminded of Hawks’s line last week about people sometimes unexpectedly finding liberation when they’re backed into a corner. like things may be shit but goddammit her kiddos need her.)
THE CHAPTER IS ALREADY ENDING SOB, IT’S ONLY A 17-PAGER THIS WEEK, BUT GODDAMN WHAT A WAY TO CLOSE
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oh my god. oh my god oh my god. AND FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI FOR CUTTING IT OFF THERE sob. it’s like each week the wait for the next chapter becomes more painful. the Todofam is about to get real, and on top of that Hawks is gonna crash the party at some point down the line, and on top of that we’re still waiting for Kacchan to have his own heartfelt discussion about What The Fuck Are We Supposed To Do Next with his best friend who’s currently in a coma. all I want to do with my life is read about these three things, and all I can do is simply wait as they are portioned out in agonizing, addicting little installments every week
anyway! tune in next time as we answer the question of whether or not fandom will finally run its train of logic all the way through to its natural conclusion and somehow manage to cancel Noted Abuse Apologist Todoroki Fucking Rei. don’t act like it can’t happen. you all know nothing is sacred lol. anyways but I’m ready for anything lol, bring it
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popanalysis99 · 3 years
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Toxic Men in TV Series who are the absolute worst.
(TW: R*pe and Sexual Assault)
While there are some men who seem to be interesting, let’s not deny the fact that there are most male characters who act like their “toxicity” is cool but honestly, it’s horrible and something not to root for. So here are the toxic male characters who are the absolute worst, excuse my misandry:
Kevin McRoberts - Kevin Can F**k Himself
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We had to start somewhere from the bottom of the underworld. A recent entry on this list, Kevin is the lead character Allison’s husband who...let’s just say has the brain of a dumb frat bro who is extremely high on pot and hasn’t recovered since then. While most of the sitcoms in the past would portray these so-called goofy and dim-witted husbands as “big fun” and lovable, Kevin is not like that, at all. In this anti-sitcom nightmare, Kevin literally believes that the whole world revolves around him. He plans such stupid unrealistic schemes to seize the day, recklessly spends the savings on stupid irrelevant sports merchandises and doesn’t even let Allison have her own agency outside of his life. Plus he is so petty and spiteful to the point he destroys one good thing that any of the women in the series have, like Allison’s dream job and Patty’s love life. And that latter was because she didn’t bring him a burger! All of this makes him look less funny and more tyrannical. No wonder poor Allison got spurred into wanting to kill him.
Ross Geller - Friends
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Ross may seemed like a “nice guy”, but let’s just agree it was a facade. Ross believes that he knows what’s best for the women he dates in the series and thinks he is superior and is always right about everything. He is seems extremely disturbed over the fact that his ex-wife, Carol is a lesbian and is jilted towards her current wife, Susan and snarks at the latter for it. And then there is her extreme control and jealousy towards Rachel, especially in her career. While Rachel is no saint either, Ross jumps to the conclusion that the man who got her a perfect job wants to sleep with her, then goes out of his way to humiliate and mark his territory on her and even if it’s revealed that the said guy has a girlfriend of his own, Ross still doesn’t abandon his theory, unless he believes that the guy is cheating on his girlfriend with Rachel. And then there is the fact that he joined his student girlfriend on a spring break just to have her all to himself, not caring about the fact that what if one of his students or colleagues would’ve seen him on TV with her and that could’ve put him in a huge scrutiny.
Joe Goldberg - You
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The show is basically built around how toxic Joe is, but this didn’t stop him from having his own fanbase apparently, with most of them glossing over his actions. But Joe is not a dream boyfriend at all. Once he sees a woman in front of him, he immediately gets obsessed with her and believes she belongs to him and him only. And to achieve that, he stalks her, he checks everything about her, kills people he believes are harmful to her when he himself is the same and when the woman finds out about him and rejects him, he kidnaps and kills her and the cycle begins again.
Chuck Bass - Gossip Girl
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What is it with the teen drama industry’s obsession with the “Bad Boy who can be redeemed with love” trope? Chuck Bass is “the bad boy” of Gossip Girl. If his attempted rape of Serena and Jenny didn’t give fans an indication that how deranged he is, his violent and emotional abuse of his girlfriend Blair cements him as this. He slut-shamed women around him, hit Blair once and even traded her for a hotel ownership and somehow he gets a happy ending with her at the end! What?
Nate Jacobs - Euphoria
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Nate is a star quarterback of his high school football team and seems like he has it all, but underneath, he is fucking deranged. His untamed manly rage causes him to physically and emotionally abuse his girlfriend Maddy and blackmail Jules, who didn’t do anything wrong but just sleep with his father, which makes me think that Nate is blackmailing her into lying to the cops about his assault on Maddy when she wasn’t even there when it happened just because it’s fun for him. Honestly, I’d like to see the imagine Rue and Jules had of killing him become a reality someday.
Dawson Leery - Dawson’s Creek
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Just because the show is named after him since he is the protagonist, doesn’t justify his actions. Dawson sees himself as some sort of a Nice Guy hero who believes he is entitled to everything. He has this extreme view on women and how they should fulfil his fantasies of his Rom-Com world. He is extremely critical of Jen when he finds out about her promiscuous past and tells her that she should be ashamed of herself for it, and gets jealous when his two best friends Joey and Pacey begin dating. And when he was briefly in the movie business, he was a rookie but was already a primadonna with the director and crew of the movie was working on and insulted a film critic for criticising his movie which was actually bad.
Kilgrave - Jessica Jones
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Kilgrave is the main villain of the Marvel-Netflix series Jessica Jones. He becomes obsessed with the titular heroine when she breaks off from his mind-control. Before that, he spent years treating her as his sex slave and raping her constantly, which left her traumatised. He begins to stalker and believe it will be a “lover’s reunion” when he will see her again someday. He manipulates and brainwashes everyone around him to his whim and treats most women as objects but despite all that, sees himself as the good guy of the situation. Even after Jessica finally gives him his just desserts, he still haunts her everyday.
Fernando Vera - Mr. Robot
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This spawn of satan is the reason why I decided to write this list in the first place. Where do I even start? He is first introduced into the series when he forces Shayla to go on a date with her and later rape her. This is what causes the misandrist vigilante Elliot to sell him out to the FBI and this apparently turns on Vera and moves his unhealthy obsession to Elliot. He has Shayla killed when he tricks Elliot into breaking him out of prison, then returns to have him all to himself by kidnapping his therapist Krista and forcing information out of her about Elliot so that he could “break him and build him back up”, like a fucked up version of The Taming Of The Shrew. He psychologically abuses Elliot into remembering being sexually abused by his father as a child and proceeds to gaslight him into thinking that he was just helping him. The huge problem with Vera is that he sees himself as some sort of Christian Grey who believes that his abuse towards both Shayla and Elliot is charming. Whenever someone failed his desires, he immediately gets bored of them and moves onto someone else, like when he got Shayla killed and moved onto Elliot. That’s why it felt so cathartic when Krista killed him.
Tate Langdon - American Horror Story
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Apparently, he is Tate Langdon and he is...hot?? While most of the AHS fans glorified him due to his emo bad boy nature, let’s not forget the fact that he was a school shooter who murdered innocent students and staff and was in general possessive and toxic towards Violet. So no way he is boyfriend material!
Don Draper - Mad Men
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Don Draper was the main protagonist of Mad Men. He was an advertisement and marketing executive who had a lot of vices and did a lot of horrible things such as cheat on his wife and treat almost every women and colleagues like crap.
Dexter Morgan - Dexter
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While Dexter might seem like the serial-killer killer, there are a lot of things about him which are unadmirable. He gaslights those he is close to so that they could get off his back, obstructs evidence pointing out to him, captures those who didn’t even fit his victims like Doakes and caused the deaths of LaGuerta, Rita and finally his sister Debra. Yeah I think you should stay away from him.
Walter White - Breaking Bad
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Aaah..the worst of the worst. Walter White is the protagonist of the series Breaking Bad. He first starts off as a pushover high school teacher who isn’t respected by anyone. When he gets diagnosed with Lung Cancer, he gets into the meth business so that he could support his family, but we all know that it’s not true. He relishes on the power and glory from being a drug dealer and then kingpin and because of that he ends up abusing both Jesse and Skyler, emotionally abusing and selling out the former to the sadistic Nazis and raping the latter several times. He is so petty and spiteful that he kills anyone insulting his ego, just ask Mike. And even after all this, he still claims that it’s all for his family. Like what?
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Demon MC with Human Obey Me Brothers Reverse AU
Okay but what if the brothers were all ‘normal’ humans who ended up summoning a demon, who is MC.
I’m in love with this idea. Lowkey might write a fic about this  jk...unless? Levi’s was surprisingly the most fun to write. Also I guess tw for normal demon things??? Nothing too graphic tho
Part 2
Lucifer
As a human he was a high ranking businessman. While still a formal person on the outside he had a perverse interest in the occult that he hid from the rest of his coworkers.
Due to his important position and large pay he manages to get his hands on some rare books on demon summoning. After a lot of research he tries them out.
When he summons you he doesn't look surprised or afraid and is quite clinical about it at first. The first thing he does is bind your powers so they can never be used against him. After he informs the rules you must follow if you're to be living with him.
Even as a human he is quite prideful and controlling and he wants to remind you who's really in charge.
At first he only sees you as a demon. He lets you do your own thing when he isn't ordering you around and when the two of you do go out in public he only introduces you as an acquaintance of his. People are rather surprised at this as he's not the type to walk around with others and rumors quickly fly off about you two.
It's not until you two are walking home from a shopping trip that you really start to bond. It was a late night and no one was around so the two of you take your time, enjoying the cool air and stars.
All too late that you hear the click of a gun. From the shadows steps a man, weapon pointed straight at you. Seeing your nonthreatening human form as well as Lucifer who practically reeks of wealth he thought the two of you easy targets. Wrong.
With inhuman speed you lunge forward shifting into your demon form. The gun clatters to the floor as you rip him to shreds with no remorse. It's only when Lucifer finally calls you away that you realize he's dead.
Once you manage to get home he is immediately lecturing you about how risky the actions you just did were. Someone could have seen you or more importantly seen him. What would you have done if the cops got involved? Eat them?
Once he's done though he thanks you and a few days later a gift ends up in your room. He never claims it, even though you can smell his cologne all over it.
After that night Lucifer treats you different. Not better, but not worse either. If anything he's a bit kinder but in a cold sort of way and he keeps his distance when anything gets too serious. At first you think its because he's scared of you. It isn't till he finally approaches you, a stern look on his face and orders you to transform that you realize he was working up the courage to see what you really looked like.
The pact urges you to turn, so you do and you let him examine you, circling several times. He's most interested in your wings, asking if he could touch them and when you consent he gently runs his hands over them. Despite you being a demon he treats you delicately shifting aside feathers with a careful hand and running a light fingertip over leathery skin.
It's a strange feeling at first, but not bad and you're practically purring by the end
After that he asks to see your true form more and more
Mammon
He didn't mean to summon you.
He just wanted to make a quick buck. It was getting close to Halloween people were starting to be interested in demons and spooks once again. That's why he thought it would be a great idea to start a seance business.
Twenty dollars for him to pretend to summon a demon, maybe shake a table once or twice, have some scary sounds playing in the background, nothing too big. Who would have known that the book he stole as his main prop would really work.
When he first sees you he screams.
He immediately tries to shove you back into the book to no avail. As he has no clue how to get rid of you he ends up stuck with you, a terrifying demon.
At first its very easy (and amusing) to scare him. Bear your teeth, mumble in a made up language, threaten to rip him to shreds.
You can actually see his soul leave his body when he faints.
However in typical Mammon fashion he gets used to you surprisingly quick, especially when you don't come through on your promise to eat him.
After that he figures that together the two of you could start scamming people for even more money. After all, he does own a real live demon now.
You two make bank stealing and tricking people. With his knack for creating schemes and your powers the two of you are rolling in money in no time, although it always seems to be lost pretty quickly thanks to his terrible gambling habits.
It's in the middle of a heist that something goes wrong. Someone, you don't know who you can only hear the click of a revolver, pulls out a gun. With lightning fast reflexes you’re tackling Mammon shielding him with the tip of your wing and just in time as something is shot into it tearing through muscle and sinew.
The urge to rip them to shreds overtakes you, growing with every second that your human is in danger. But there was so many of them and you couldn't protect Mammon and yourself at the same time. The need to get somewhere safe is much more important so you leave.
It's only your quick reflexes that get the two of you out alive.
When you finally get home Mammon laments over all of the money he lost on the deal. acts like it doesn't affect him. His complaints last exactly till he sees the blood staining your form.
He almost faints right there.
Once he recovers he's immediately running to get ice packs and gauze, fussing over your injured wing. It's obvious he’s worried even though he tries to hide it under his tsundere act. When you’re finally bandaged up he thanks you glancing at your wound the entire time.
It's hard not to appreciate the gesture.
You just don't know how to tell him that your going to be perfectly fine in like two days (thank Diavolo for demon healing)
After this you two are a lot closer. Even before you were friends, but now the relationship has morphed into something different.
The two of you do less dangerous scams and while Mammon doesn't act too different he gets super weird when you're too close. Blushing a terrible crimson and freaking out when you touch.
Even for a demon its not hard to see that he has a crush.
Levi
Also summoned you on accident.
He was actually trying to summon Ruri-chan. You have to admit when it comes to her he does his research. Drew a full pentagram and everything and as a final touch placed a little plushy in the middle.
He absolutely panics when you arrive here instead.
Used to humans being afraid you, you ignore him at first. You fall to one knee eager to pledge your loyalty in exchange for his soul when you land on something squishy.
Pulling it out from under you see a plushy??? Of some anime character??? TF???
This pulls him from his stupor and he snatches it from you and begins to lecture you on the importance of Ruri-chan and anime on human culture.
You have no clue whats going on at this point.
When he finally stops talking he actually gets kind of excited. He summoned a hot demon??? Woah! This is just like his anime 'I accidentally summoned a demon from Hell who became my roommate and now I might be falling for them.' 
At your confused look he immediately turns it on and has you watch it. You two end up having an entire movie night together.
After that the two of you mostly act like roommates.
He often compares you to his favorite series TSL where 7 humans summon a demon named Henry and go on crazy adventures with him. The first time he accidentally calls you Henry he blushes like crazy.
At first he acted like you were annoying him most of the time but it was pretty easy to catch on to his tsundere act. He actually loves having you around and will whine when you have to leave. He says its because he can't play two player games without you but you know the truth.
On the rare occasions the two of you go out he gets jealous of anyone with even the slightest interest in you. Your HIS demon why are you giving someone else your attention?
Its pretty easy to distract him though. Just the slightest touch and hes flushing and stuttering. You can do whatever he won't get the hint that you like him the most.
'There's no way you meant to do this. This must be some weird demon norm I don't know about. Yup that's it.'
Satan
Summoned a demon on purpose. And not just that summoned you on purpose.
With his extensive library he had more than enough information to figure out how to summon a demon. After that it was just a matter of choosing which one. He finally settled on you.
You don't need to worry about explaining how a pact works to him. He already knows everything on it. Maybe even more than you. Nerd.
Don't express this opinion out loud. He will be furious.
Even so he'll still make you tell him about summoning a million times just to see if you know anything different.  
Mostly you’re an over glorified assistant/labrat to him. MC grab that book. MC draw this summoning circle. MC stick your hand in this flame.
Of any of the brothers he is the one who sees your demon form the most and the one who asks the most questions about it. You have very sharp claws what are those used for? Four sets of wings? I wonder why you have so many. Slitted eyes? Do you have any idea why they are like this?
He is very interested in the differences between humans and demons so you end up performing a lot of tests.
He would also be curious about the celestial war and your part in it. Its up to you to choose to answer him or not.
If you ignore any of his questions he will get annoyed and be snippy. But just tell him an interesting tidbit about hell and he'll be back to normal in no time.
As for his actual job he works as a researcher at a big lab. You go there often to help him with his work. He used to have a lot of assistants but none could handle his terrible rage.
Its one of the reasons you work so well with him. An angry human? That's no big deal. Now if he was a demon that would be something to talk about
His tantrums are actually kind of cute. Like a fussy kitten.
Telling him this has a 50/50 chance of either making him blush or rampage.
If its possible he uses you to annoy his colleagues
Janice talked shit about his theories on planetary alignment? Poison her
Jk not really but maybe just, like, make her day a hundred times worse?
Thanks MC you're great
A power team at its best. His need to get back at people he hates works well with your general need to cause mischief 
Asmodeus
An orgy summons you obvious reasons. Although technically not the one who summoned you, you end up making a pact with Asmodeus before the nights over.
It was inevitable really, of all the humans there how could you not choose him? His overblown confidence and cocky insistence that he was perfect was practically adorable. I mean here you are, a demon of all things, and yet this little human is here insisting that he was perfection himself. You just wanted to eat his soul right up he was so cute.
To him its obvious why. After all, he was so beautiful that even demons fell in love with him, he couldn't blame you.
Even if you tell him the real reason he won't believe it.
Immediately starts bragging about how he could seduce demons
If you leave a pact mark on him though he will complain
As for actual duties you don't have a lot
At parties you work as his wingman but at home the two of you have more of a domestic role. He treats you more like a best friend than a demon.
He has a lot of spa days, something he immediately insisted that you take part in too.
One day you bring him a bottle of demon moisturizer. Big mistake
When he finds out about all the different demon beauty products he immediately orders you to get him some.
Your poor wallet.
He's always ordering new things. He really wants to go down to Devildom so he could look himself instead of having to order off Akuzon. One day you'll figure out a way to show him the eternal night.
He's also very flirty towards you, something your not surprised about. Hes always on your lap or petting your head or asking for affection, and he constantly alludes to the things the two of you could do. As time goes on he begins to get even more needy, sometimes ignoring others at parties just to flirt with you. He wants all of your attention all of the time.
Beelzebub
Did not mean to summon you but now that your here hes pretty okay with it
Of all the brothers he the one to treat you the most like another human.  
However you have one duty that you take very seriously
You must protect his brother, no matter what.
Other than that you two are like roommates. He doesn't really ask you of much except to keep the fridge stocked (which is a bigger job than expected this guy eats a lot) and he'll take care of the rent and everything else.
Sometimes he'll ask if you want to head to the gym with him. You thank your demon metabolism since every time you end up going he always stops for burgers and shakes at his favorite place on the way home.
He lifts a lot for a human, no surprise since you've seen how sculpted his body is. Seriously he's like a Greek statue. You spot him while doing reps and help correct his form while necessary. It's a bit of a switch from dealing with demon biology to human biology though so you have to make sure that you don't accidentally hurt your new friend.
Sometimes the two of you have movie nights, although its more of an excuse for him to buy a bunch of human food and you to buy a bunch of demon food and pig out. He still manages to out eat you somehow.
Occasionally the two of you will go out with his brother Belphie although it usually ends up with either you or Beel carrying him when he falls asleep. But it gives you time to chat with Beel on your own which you don't mind
The two of you end up with a good bromance, sometimes minus the b.
He treats you like an old friend and even ends up telling you about Lilith, his dear sister who died when a car hit her. He had only managed to pull his brother out of the way at the time and he still remembers it well. You can practically smell the guilt that hangs off him when he tells you that. It's hard not to feel touched after that story even for a demon.
He confesses a lot of things to you, things he has a hard time saying to other people. He never calls upon his pact to swear you to secrecy. He trusts you.
Belphie
Also summons you on purpose
When you first meet Belphie he's angry, uncontrollably angry. It's at the point where it almost surprises you. After all a human filled with so much wrath is no small feat.
His first order is a tough one but one you have no choice but to accept. 
Kill the man that murdered his sister
The two of you work hard to hunt him down, spending many days brainstorming late into the night. Although it always ends up with just you working, as Belphie has the strangest tendency to fall asleep while talking. (Narcoleptic maybe? Or just lazy?) Whatever the case you don't terribly mind.
Even just his presence helps, in some strange way.
When you finally track him down Belphie insists on going too. He wants to see the man die with his own two eyes.
It's not a hard fight but it is an emotional one. Through the bond you two share you can feel Belphies anger, his pain, his desire for revenge, and then finally an emptiness.
When its over the two of you go home, still covered in whatever bits of him were left. Belphegor shows no emotions and you wonder if hes in shock from seeing someone die so suddenly, but all you feel is a tired yet content thrum through your bond.
When you finally get home Belphegor immediately tries to go to sleep and its only through a little nagging and a lot of manhandling that your able to convince him to shower first. By now the bloods beginning to dry into a nasty goop and once he's done you jump in too, soothed by the steam and clouds of soap drifting around you.
To no ones surprise Belphie is asleep when you get out. It's then when you realize that you have nothing left to do. 
With that one action your purpose here is done, and yet your pact remains. Your thoughts begin to rise Belphie who clings stubbornly to sleep. It's no use though. The two of you are too connected for it to stop. 
You hear the sheets rustle and he raises one hand patting at the covers. A universal sign to come here.
"You're so loud" He mutters even though you haven't said a word. "Just sleep already."
A useless answer but a comforting one. You curl up at his side, feeling the tiniest bit like an obedient dog, but his arm settles over your shoulder and he drapes himself over your chest erasing the thoughts from your mind.
You eyes flutter close, at least for the moment. You can decide what you should do when you wake up.
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thanksjro · 4 years
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More Than Meets the Eye #30 - The Cybertronian Judicial System is a Friggin’ Joke
Have I mentioned that I’m not a huge fan of court case stories? I think they’re pretty boring, on average, so the last couple of issues have been slightly dragging for me.
Anyway, back to Megatron’s trial. 

Our issue opens up with a full back shot of Ultra Magnus.
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Artists take note, he really is built like a capital T.
As Magnus reads out Megatron’s statement retracting his “guilty” plea, we get some decent points as to why. See, telling a guy that you’ll stab him in the brain, so his trial can be over as quickly as possible, maybe isn’t such a hot idea. Megatron wasn’t a huge fan of that, or of how those memories they would’ve yanked outta him would have been used to fuel the Autobot propaganda machine. Why, you may ask?
Well, I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Megatron… doesn’t particularly care for the Autobots, nor the rhetoric they uphold.
I know, I was surprised too!
There’s also the fact that Optimus Prime is the judge on this whole thing. You know. Optimus Prime. Off and on leader of the Autobots, whenever it suits him. The guy who fucked off into space for a year after the war. The guy who threw a hissy fit when someone pointed out that he was compromised the last time they did something like this with Megatron. This guy:
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Yeah, there might be a slight conflict of interests here. Remind me again why this had to be a military trial?
Anyway, enough of that, it’s time for a fight scene.
A swarm of Decepticons storm the arena, going after Megatron so they can help him escape. Magnus, though acting as Megatron’s defense, cannot abide by this disorder in the court.
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Wild to think there’s a tiny little Pringles man with anxiety in there, isn’t it?
Optimus joins the fray, because there really are, just, so many guys to deal with here. A dude goes to collect Megatron, stating that they brought teleport packs for this little shindig. Megatron isn’t super jazzed about that though, not bothering to grab on before the dude gets shot to death. There’s a brief recess, I guess so the janitorial staff can deal with the mess of corpses littering the courtroom.
Meanwhile, in the present day, Rung’s building a model spaceship in Swerve’s, which is a very brave thing to be doing, seeing how sticky and gross bars can be. Brainstorm’s brought a flask to the bar, and proceeds to pour the contents into a funnel sticking out of his arm.
Our bartender for the evening- I’m assuming it’s evening, but I doubt the concept of time has any real weight in space- is Bluestreak. Bluestreak was stationed on Earth for a while, which is some Phase One stuff, and took a liking to human media while he was there. He’s the guy who handles movie night these days, seeing as Rewind’s too busy being dead to do it, and I doubt Chromedome has the emotional bandwidth to take over for his late spouse.
Bluestreak’s favorite movie is Zulu, a film glorifying the colonialism of the English over the native populace of an African kingdom. Make of that what you will.
Whirl wants to watch À Bout de Soufflé, or Breathless, as it was translated for the English-speaking world, which is a French New Wave film about a criminal who shoots a cop, hides from the police in a journalist’s home, who he seduces and likely impregnates. She eventually finds out what he did, reports him to the police, but then has a change of heart and lets him know what she’s done. He runs, but is shot, and dies in the street. The film is notable for its final scene, in which the following dialogue happens, between the dying criminal Michael, his lover Patricia, and an officer.
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Of course, any poignancy would almost certainly be lost on the average comic book reader, and is also somewhat nullified by Whirl praising the film with internet lingo.
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Then again, I suppose Whirl would be the type to dismantle any deeper reading of his interest in such a film, lest he be subjected to the horrifying ordeal of being known.
Over with Skids and Riptide, it’s revealed that Megatron’s been teaching classes on the Lost Light, specifically on the Knights of Cybertron. Riptide’s getting an education, because he’s been feeling pretty lost since the war ended- we’ll get to the potential whys of that later on. Swerve isn’t a fan of this community college thing that’s going on, stating that Megatron’s using it as a distraction, so he can devise plots most foul.
Back in the past, Autobot high command is having a talk about what Megatron’s demanding, and man is it a doozy— turns out, since the trial’s happening on Luna 2, the trial proceedings are subject to the laws of the moon. One of these moon laws is the right to request being judged by the Knights of Cybertron. Now, this is a problem, seeing as the Knights of Cybertron have been AWOL for the last several million years, but the law is the law, and you can’t just go ignoring it when someone’s pointed it out.
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Bro, your SIC just suggested y’all pull the trial so you could slap it on Cybertron, thus negating any need to pay attention to the Knight law. That’s such a gross miscarrying of justice, it’s genuinely baffling. You’ve got bigger issues going on than flouting. My god, Optimus, you were a cop—
Oh wait, that’s right. Carry on, then.
Back on the Lost Light, First Aid’s checking to make sure that the coffin Rodimus they revealed last issue is true and proper dead. Now, this may seem like a given, but you’ve got to remember that Brainstorm was mostly dead for over a year and a half, and nobody fucking noticed, so it’s probably for the best that they’re checking.
First Aid’s been pretty withdrawn since Ambulon died, so this autopsy is really good for him, since it got him out of his room. Pretty fucked up that it would take a dead body to get him out and about. Has Rung checked in on his poor son of a gun, or has he been spending the last six months getting his professional rocks off psychoanalyzing a genocidal warlord?
Our coffin Rodimus died from having parts of his brain removed, and potentially died screaming.
Yes, that is a Furmanism, thank you peanut gallery, moving on—
Ratchet hands the phone over to Ultra Magnus, saying that a call has to be made, and it can’t be by him, because the callee is mighty upset with Ratchet at the moment.
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Oh, I guess he’s fine after all. This must be where the sci-fi bullshit really starts kicking in for the series.
Because seeing your own dead body is likely very traumatic and awful, Rodimus is taking a while to string together his thoughts on the matter. Megatron doesn’t particularly care, because he’s not terribly sympathetic to this sort of thing, and the two get into a spat, where it’s revealed that they’re co-captaining the Lost Light.
Because things weren’t chaotic enough on this fucking ship. Need to mix in some peacocking between the McDonalds twunk and the man who killed half of Beijing.
Back in the past, Optimus Prime visited Megatron in prison to have a little chat. It’s not about that little rescue attempt, though the fact that those Decepticons may have been released from the Lost Light’s brig is certainly interesting. No, Optimus is here to sit way too close to his mortal nemesis on the floor of his room and talk about how Megatron is a sneaky bastard.
You remember the Hellraiser puzzle box from a couple issues back? Yeah, that was a communicube, one that was passed to Optimus to suggest that the trial be held on the moon, so the arena there would be able to hold all the people wronged by Megatron. This seems pretty damn convenient in hindsight, but Megatron swears that the legal loophole wasn’t his only intent when he sent the cube.
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Because it’s all about you, isn’t it, Megatron? It’s all about how you’re perceived by future generations. Fuck the guys who had to actually deal with what your personal choices caused to happen.
Megatron wants to make amends with all those who were wronged by him. This doesn’t include being acquitted of his crimes, which, y’know, good- at least he’s being slightly realistic about how this is going to turn out for him.
What he wants to do is find Cyberutopia, so the Cybertronians have a replacement planet, since Cybertron kind of sucks now.
Oh, sorry, did I say realistic? I take it back.
In the present, Rodimus is still bummed out about being dead. Still, the day doesn’t stop just because it’s a bad one, and he calls in the experts.
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CHROMEDOME YOU PROMISED TO STOP THIS SHIT
Yeah, no, Chromedome’s fallen off the wagon again, and does his thing on the coffin Rodimus. As he does, Megatron suddenly gets squeamish, Brainstorm pulls out his early early-warning device to lean on the fourth wall, and it’s revealed that the coffin that coffin Rodimus was in was built in the fashion of the Spectralist faith.
All Chromedome can suss out of coffin Rodimus’ memories is the really big important stuff, which includes the speech at Rivet’s Field inviting folks to come join the Knight Quest. Aww, that’s sweet.
With the analysis of the innermost energon complete, the results are in— the coffin Rodimus is a Rodimus. A real one, from the near future. Bummer.
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I suppose denial is one of the seven stages of grief, isn’t it?
As everyone argues over whether or not Rodimus is going to die, Nightbeat brings up a good point— there aren’t any numbers carved into the coffin Rodimus’ hand. Rodimus is about to reveal some Ratchet-original wisdom, when things start getting really weird; whole sections of the Lost Light are disappearing.
Over at Swerve’s, Tailgate is regaling his peers with the story of his derring-do against Chief Justice Tyrest. Everyone is very impressed, and this includes our good buddy Getaway.
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Jeez, think you’ve got enough antagonist shadows on this guy? It’s almost as if the art’s trying to tell us something about him.
Getaway lays it on real thick, saying that Tailgate could totally be the next Prime, with how courageous and awesome he is, all while completely ignoring Tailgate’s personal space and having a weirdly tiny hand. This seems to seriously bother Cyclonus, who is watching this shit go down from the doorway. Our purple space jet leaves once the drinks start being poured and conversation starts happening. God knows he hates talking about his insecurities.
Then the Pipes is Friggin’ Dead alarm goes off. But Pipes has been dead for a while now, so that must mean something else awful is happening.
Back during the trial, I guess because Optimus has a soft spot for Megatron, he allows him to join the Lost Light’s Knight Quest… even as he says that he could keep the guy locked up until Rodimus and pals find the Knights. However, there are rules to this, and one of the rules is that Megatron must publicly denounce the Decepticon cause.
It is a slow and painful experience for everyone involved, as he reads the statement he was given. It’s an immediate call to action- or rather, inaction.
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Geez, think they could’ve made it any more obvious that this was being ghostwritten? I can’t wait to see how long it takes for “Megatron was blackmailed into saying this by the Autobots” to be a plotpoint.
Outside the prison, Ratchet and Rodimus are taking in the brand new Rod Pod, which is genuinely ridiculous in how large it is. Rodimus admits to having taken Atomizer’s list, though he knows that trying to use it to keep those who voted him off would be a pretty shitty thing to do.
Also, no one’s told him about Megatron coming along on the trip. As captain.
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Or you could, I dunno, lock him up from the start. Or, if you want to give him a chance to prove himself, slap him into a bottom-rung role, like bilge cleaner, or sewage mucker, or whatever the equivalent would be on a spaceship full of giant gay robots. We don’t have to give the guy any power to hold him to scrutiny— any minimum wage worker will tell you that scrutiny comes far harsher for those who actually carry out orders than those who give them.
But what do I know? I’ve never fought in a several million year war, and I don’t plan to.
Getting back to the list, it seems as if Ratchet and Rodimus are on the same wavelength, in that both agree it’s only going to cause trouble and hurt feelings to keep the thing around. Rodimus destroys it with his usual flare, only to be blindsided by the fact that it was fake this entire time. How does Ratchet know this?
Because his name wasn’t on it.
...Man, that’s gotta sting. No wonder Rodimus was upset enough to not take his calls.
In the present, everyone’s in a panic, as they all bolt for the shuttle bay and start pouring into shuttles. The Lost Light is disintegrating around them, which is sort of a problem. Despite this nightmare scenario happening, Rodimus and Megatron still find the time to be assholes to each other. That’s dedication right there.
As the two bicker, multiple shuttles zip away from the rapidly disappearing ship, including the Rod Pod.
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Man, now it really is the Lost Light.
179 notes · View notes
therenlover · 4 years
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Welcome Home (Part One of Till Forever Falls Apart, A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)
Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.
Tags: Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Slow Burn, Post-Wandavision
Rating: T
Warnings: Mild Language, References to Ralph Bohner
Word Count: 2400~
This fic has already been posted to my AO3, along with the next two parts! I’ll be continuing it on both platforms.
-------
“So… Ralph Bohner?”
Peter looked up from his mug, the tea inside having gone cold long before. His eyes had been fixed on the floor, his leg bouncing far quicker than what should have been humanly possible. It had been a little over 24 hours since the Hex had disappeared, and Peter was firmly of the mindset that he was taking it all very well.
Even to himself, he was a terrible liar.
“Ralph?” His new keeper spoke again, voice soft in the quaint kitchen of the brownstone that Peter would be calling home for the foreseeable future.
It had all been so strange. In one moment he was reorganizing his new attic and trying to figure out how to work the damn DVD player, and somehow in the next, he was a prisoner in his own mind, backseat driving as a witch used his face and voice to torment Wanda. Not his Wanda, though; a new, strange, grieving Wanda with unfathomable power at her fingertips. Thankfully, that didn’t last very long.
After just 2 weeks in this strange new reality, Peter missed the X-Men. He missed his dad, no matter how absent and strange he was. He missed his friends, and his sisters, and the strange normalcy that came with being a part of the team when the world wasn’t in danger. Peter found himself wishing that things would just slow down enough for him to catch up and figure out what the hell was going on. That was a new one for him.
At least he still had his speed. If he had lost his powers in the freak accident that sent him into another universe… well he didn’t want to think about that.
Despite this, the FBI guy who had dragged him out of Westview and across the river to New York had given him an explicit warning not to use his powers while civilians were present. Peter didn’t mind Agent Woo, he seemed like a good guy and treated him with more decency than most government lackeys would have back home, but it was gonna be completely impossible for Peter to avoid using his speed in public. It wasn’t like Agent Woo would even be around to stop him anyway. The only person who could possibly protest was the poor sap that the F.B.I. called in to babysit him, and they would never be able to keep up even if they tried.
“Peter? Are you okay?”
Fuck.
His eyes shot up to meet hers, “You aren’t supposed to know that name,”
“I’m not supposed to know a lot of things,” she replied almost nonchalantly, “but neither of us is known for doing the things we’re supposed to do, are we?”
Peter chuckled, and for the first time in a while, he cracked a genuine smile. “I guess not,”
The smile seemed to please the woman across the counter. Smiling back, she wrapped her hands around her own mug and sat down on a tall stool, leaning towards Peter. “Now, first things first! I want you to ignore whatever rules the FBI gave you while you’re here. My house, my rules, and despite the fact that you’re in witness protection I doubt anyone unwanted will come knocking at the door to snatch you up,”
As she spoke, Peter really took her in for the first time. She was a small thing, in shape and stature, but soft, all rounded edges and gentle touches. Despite her young face, there was an age to her, too. Looking deep into his memories, he realized she had the same haunted look in her eyes that he had seen all too often in the older members of his team. It was the look of someone who has seen unspeakable loss and survived to tell the tale. He decided at that moment that maybe staying with her wouldn’t be so bad.
“So about that rules thing,” Peter tapped his fingers against his half-full mug, doing his best not to speed up and break it, “I don’t exactly do well with rules. They aren’t my thing. I can’t promise that the cops won’t show up at the door, and I especially can’t promise that they won’t be there because of something I did that I knew was against the rules,”
When Peter met the woman’s eyes again she was still smiling, not a hint of displeasure on her face.
“If I had a problem with you being you, Peter, I wouldn’t have offered to take you in. Besides, as long as the cops that show up are human there won’t be a problem,”
Peter paused. “What?”
“That’s a question for another time,” The woman took a sharp turn then, hopping off of her stool and walking her mug to the sink where she proceeded to rinse it out. “Next, even in public, I refuse to call you Mr. Bohner. Ralph I can do if you care about staying anonymous, but I won’t be acknowledging any part of your… chosen last name,” Even as she shuddered, there was humor lacing her voice, “Bohner, though? Really?”
“It’s funny!”
She turned back to Peter with her face scrunched up in faux disgust. “Maybe to a middle schooler,”
“I had just been pulled out of my room, sucked through a portal, and thrown onto the steps of goddamn Quantico, so excuse me for not being on top of my game. Besides, Bohner wasn’t even my first choice. They wouldn’t let me go with Jack Ingoff,”
That was enough to send them both into a fit of giggles.
“Jack Ingoff?” She wheezed, “You tried to get the F.B.I. to give you the legal name Jack fucking Ingoff? That’s just so you,”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re both an idiot and the funniest person I have ever met,”
“I’d better be,”
As they continued to laugh, Peter found himself completely enthralled by this strange woman’s face and it occurred to him that she was incredibly beautiful.
It wasn’t as if she was a supermodel, though in Peter’s eyes it wouldn’t have taken much to make her one. Every part of her just seemed to glow as she gripped her stomach and stifled laughter. She was pretty in quiet ways, in soft glances and gentle touches and unrestrained joy. In the way that everything around her felt like it was full of life. In the kindness that had never wavered while Peter had sat at her kitchen counter, even when he had come through the door swearing at Agent Woo and demanding that he didn’t need a babysitter.
The longer he looked, the more beautiful she became, in actions and words and features combined, and Peter suddenly became aware that if he hadn’t taken the time to really see her, he never would have realized. He was glad he had slowed down for once.
Somewhere down the line, her laughter quieted.
“So,” he cleared his throat, “what’s your deal?” The cold mug in his hands was suddenly extremely interesting.
Across the counter she stilled, frozen in place for a moment. When she spoke, her voice held an edge of… fear? “What do you mean?”
Peter did his best to backpedal.
“I didn’t mean it like that! I was just wondering what you did to get stuck with me, that’s all. I doubt they would stick my annoying ass with just anybody, especially after… well everything that went down in Westview. Plus, I’m not just a normal dude. What average New York socialite would take in a kleptomaniac who just so happens to also be inhumanly fast out of the goodness of their heart?”
As he spoke, her shoulders relaxed and she loosened her grip on the edge of the marble countertop. “Oh, my deal,”
“Yeah. There’s more to you than what meets the eye, I can tell,” Something in the way her face flushed at his words made Peter’s heart fill with pride.
“I… well I had a unique upbringing,” she responded, voice careful and measured while she watched the floor, “I’m not a mutant, not like you, but I have a little bit of power at my disposal that makes me useful to heroes and hero adjacent agencies. I’m not a part of the team, my skills aren’t usually helpful when it comes to fighting, but they keep tabs on me just in case I’m needed. This was one of those times,”
Peter snorted. “Sounds like a pretty shitty deal,”
“Trust me, if I didn’t have to have the government breathing down my back, I wouldn’t, but after I worked with the Avengers they pulled up my file and found out I shouldn’t exist, so they’ve been keeping a pretty close eye on me ever since,”
“Ah… well, next time just don’t get caught,”
“Not all of us have the luxury of being able to dodge bullets and outrun law enforcement, Peter. Besides, I like this house and I’m not quite in the mood to have to abandon it just yet.”
He shrugged. “To each their own. Now how the hell did you get stuck with me? Were you just the closest or did everybody else refuse,”
“Well, actually I offered to take you in,”
Peter choked on the air. “Why the hell would you do that?”
She was quick to defend herself, and in a way him too.
“Because Jimmy is my friend, and when a friend needs a favor I try to help them out. It’s more than that, though. I won’t lie. I’m fascinated by you, Peter Maximoff. I find you wonderful exactly how you are and I couldn’t stand to let any of the other assholes in New York try to stomp out your personality. Here with me, you can just be you, and knowing that you’re able to be comfortable until we find you a way home was more than enough of a reason for me to volunteer to take you in. Besides, if you weren’t with me you’d probably be in the tower’s holding cell, and believe me, that wouldn’t be any fun,”
It took Peter a minute to fully digest what he was hearing.
He wasn’t going to be a burden. There would be no curfews or screaming matches or long lectures about his chosen pastimes. She wanted every single part of him there and had already gone out of her way to assure him that even the worst of him was welcome under her roof. Even during his time at X-Mansion, he had never been treated like this.
Sure, he had been himself there. People would yell or try to stop him from doing what he wanted but their efforts were futile. He couldn’t be tamed. At best the other members of the team had just tried to ignore him until his powers came in handy. He was an annoyance at worst and the household funny guy at best, and yet now a total stranger wanted him around. It took all of Peter’s small reserve of restraint to not take a victory lap around the block there and then.
Being wanted was the best feeling in the world.
When his head cleared, he smiled again. “You know, when Agent Woo brought me in here I was fully prepared to wait for him to leave then make a run for it, but I’ve decided to save you from the F.B.I.’s wrath and stay for a while instead. You’re welcome,”
He expected a snappy retort, but instead, her words came out strangely genuine, almost a whisper.  “Thank you for saving me, Peter. I appreciate it,”
“Any time,”
Slowly the flush from before crept back onto her face.
“I know you’re not the type who likes to be tied down, so I won’t keep you here much longer,�� she said, before taking Peter’s mug to the sink, “but there are just a few more things I need to tell you before you go off to do whatever it is you do on a Thursday morning.”
He would never admit it but Peter felt anything but tied down. Instead, he just nodded.
“Go for it,”
She washed the mug as she spoke. “Alright, well first of all what’s mine is yours. Unless I specifically ask you not to use something you have free reign over whatever you need. You can come and go as you please, I keep odd hours and don’t mind a little noise even when I’m sleeping. The house is pretty simple layout-wise, you can explore whenever you want, but the room at the end of the hallway to your right is my bedroom and I’d prefer if you didn’t go in there unless you need to. Your room is the first door at the left of the stairs on the second floor and… well, I think that’s all,”
There was a sort of sorrow in the woman’s eyes when she stopped, placing the now clean mug on a drying rack before turning to face Peter again. A yearning. It made Peter want to… well, he didn’t quite know what it made him feel. He just wanted to do whatever would ease the strange pain that resided in his new friend.
He went to speak but nothing came out.
“Is everything okay Peter?”
It was Peter’s turn to flush, face red with shame. “I...uh, well, I wasn’t quite paying attention when the agent introduced us. I’m gonna need to know your name if I’m living with you,”
It came as no surprise when she laughed gently, making her way across the kitchen towards the living room, passing Peter at the counter on her way. “My name is Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you, Peter,” The strange sorrow was still present, reflected in her words, but it seemed lighter than before, more manageable.
“Nice to meet you too Y/N,”
“I’m heading to work,” she pulled on a light jacket as she spoke, “so feel free to explore at your own leisure while I’m gone. I’ll hopefully be back by 5, but sometimes things run late. Do you need anything while I’m out?”
Peter shook his head no. “If I can’t find something I need I’ll just run out and grab it myself.
Y/N laughed again. “Just don’t get caught, you won’t know the number to call from jail yet,”
“I’m sure I’ll manage,”
She paused, halfway out the door. “Oh, and Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“Welcome home,”
----
a/n: Thank you so much for reading! I have 3 1/2-ish parts of this series written, but the plan is for it to be a long haul where each part is a connecting oneshot. I hope you’re excited! 
Please don’t post my work to other sites, thanks!
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secretmellowblog · 4 years
Note
Your Javert post made me realize that Victor Hugo was either ahead of his time and/or that (unsurprisingly) nothing has changed since his time.
Thanks! here’s the weird thing though: in many ways, victor Hugo wasn’t ahead of his time? I’ve been trying to research this because it’s a complicated topic, but the specific way we over-Hero-Worship the police seems to be relatively new. The attitude that “police are AMAZING WONDERFUL MAGIC SUPERHEROES and you need to KISS THEIR BOOTS because they are ANGELS” is actually...........kinda modern?
Like, police have always SUCKED. And there’s always been propaganda about how police are good. But like.....I’ve been trying to research this, and I really wish someone would give me some links to help me out. :P In general the impression I keep getting is that “police work is an inherently noble superior profession full of uniquely good people” is actually a very Modern American attitude. Our specific brand of hyper-police-worship wasn’t really a thing 200 years ago in France, or even 100 years ago in America.
This is part of why Javert interests me/frustrates me!
I honestly don’t know what parts of Javert are “Victor Hugo is critiquing the police in a way few other people did at the time,” and what parts of Javert are “Victor Hugo is criticizing the police in a way that most people at the time would’ve agreed with, making statements that were actually pretty uncontroversial, and it only seems Special to me because our culture has this abnormal recent obsession with licking police’s boots”
Like. In one early review for Les Mis, a reviewer expressed astonishment at the way Hugo wrote Javert as a man with a strong moral code, writing that it was strange to see Victor Hugo glorify “the commonplace and unpoetic exterior of a police officer.”
There’s also a line in Les Mis where Hugo casually describes all police officers as having “an air of baseness,” and Javert being unique because he’s the only police officer who isn’t base. And the idea that “all cops are corrupt and Javert is very Weird for not being that way” is something Hugo never feels the need to explain, like he assumes “all cops are corrupt” is what the reader already believes. He treats Javert’s honesty as an unusual incredible thing he needs to spend time convincing the reader to suspend their disbelief on, while causally treating the idea of corrupt cops as something it’s easy for readers to accept.
There’s also a passage where Hugo describes how Javert’s power was Extremely Limited. I think the point of this passage was to be like “police in the 1830s weren’t as powerful as they are now in the 1860s. Police were always bad, but it’s important to remember that police now are more powerful and less accountable than before, and this trend is only going to get worse”
But still— I don’t know how much of it is the changing role of police and how much of it is Hugo making mistakes, but reading Hugo’s description of Javert/1830s police right now is like....hAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
It must be remembered that at that epoch the police was not precisely at its ease; the free press embarrassed it; several arbitrary arrests denounced by the newspapers, had echoed even as far as the Chambers, and had rendered the Prefecture timid. Interference with individual liberty was a grave matter. The police agents were afraid of making a mistake; the prefect laid the blame on them; a mistake meant dismissal.
LOLLLL CAN YOU IMAGINe hahahahaha
“A mistake meant dismissal” 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 most unrealistic line in Les mis
Can you imagine police needing to be careful because 😂😂😂😂😂😂 they might actually 😂😂😂😂 lose their jobs 😂😂😂 Hugo was so funny 😆 😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
The thing is tho: aside from the higher-ups who ran everything, most ordinary police in the 1830s were lower-class minimum-wage grunt workers. I’m not saying police were oppressed— they weren’t, they were a tool used to oppress other people— but police work wasn’t high-status, or well-paying, or glorified as being an inherently special and heroic profession that makes you immune to criticism. For more on that— and the extra layers of confusion that came from Victor Hugo trying to apply the *1860s* version of police onto the *1830s*—- check out this great post by a bunch of people! :
https://secretmellowblog.tumblr.com/post/617438923194515456/prudencepaccard-axmxz-tragicbeauty1991
And @alicedrawslesmis​ did an interesting post a while back that I can’t find about how Javert is characterized very differently in the Brick vs in modern adaptations, because we view the idea of state power/police very differently.
In the Brick, Javert is basically portrayed as a thick-headed lower-class grunt worker doing a violent menial job. Hes an outcast from a poor background who joined the police bc it’s one of the few jobs available to him. He canonically doesn’t think because he sees thinking as “useless and a fatigue.”  He’s compared to an obedient bulldog serving its masters.  He has delusions of grandeur because he’s so proud to be serving such a Powerful authority, he’s pompous and haughty because he believes he serves something so much more Powerful and Smart and Important than himself-- but he’s still portrayed as basically just a glorified guard dog whose job is to attack “the right people” on command.
I know I’m repeating myself a lot but If were to summarize Brick Javert’s characterization it’d be: “a guard dog with delusions of grandeur”
But in modern adaptations of Les Mis, Javert often gets portrayed as Elegant  and Aristocratic. He’s not the big blunt wolfish man he was in the brick, but an upper-class slender regal aristocrat, or a militaristic handsome action hero Russel-Crowe type, or whatever bbc Les mis was trying to do. He’s haughty and proud, but he’s often more obsessed with being powerful himself than he’s obsessed with being obedient to another power. He’s given a higher social status, he clearly has more money, he dresses in super-fancy uniforms, he gets awarded fancy medals of honor, he has fleets of underlings who admire him and adore him, he’s not portrayed as being animalistic at all, he’s thoughtful and soft-spoken and cultured, he speaks Nobly and Elegantly.
Idk the Feeling I get is that Brick Javert was the low-ranking guard dog of a greater authority, while in modern adaptations Javert just IS the authority....
TL; DR Javert is weird because he’s one of the most famous cops in literature, but so much of his character is just?? Odd??? I have no idea if Hugo was “ahead of his time” because the way we view police has changed so radically since the time the story was written, that it’s just Complicated. Javert really does suck tho :P
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snowdice · 4 years
Text
Rats, Pizza, and Supply Closets (Part of the Cuffed Universe Series)
Fandom: Sanders Sides
Relationships: Logan/Remus/Virgil (a bit more Logan/Remus focus)
Characters: Logan, Virgil, Remus
Summary: Logan is very surprised by the fact that Remus did not come to this pizzeria with the goal to capture him, and now that they’re both here, it turns out their objectives align far more than expected.
AKA: The First Truce
This is a Cuffed Universe fic.
Previous fics in this series:
Tea, Cookies, and Handcuffs
Matboards and Subway Sandwiches
Espionage and Iced Coffee
Popcorn and Podcasts
Extras:
Moving Day
Notes: Non-consensual drug use mentioned, morally grey Logan, cop Remus, being restrained, one theoretical mention of eye injuries, human trafficking mentioned
Look at the boys! They’re getting along! Well.... Remus and Logan are getting along.
One would think, that is, one would think if one had even a single iota of sense in one’s monkey brain, that it would be difficult for a new hire to so quickly gain access to the location that one’s underground drug dealing operation ran out of. Particularly, one would think one would be cautious after having recently refused to pay for services from a cybercriminal.
Luckily for Logan, it seemed Haynes had a few disconnected synapses in his brain, and all it had taken was a fake ID and some forged paperwork to get hired on as a handyman for the business he used for money laundering. In addition to his work dolling out controlled substances, Haynes also owned a local rip off of a Chuck E Cheese called Cheeezeee the Cheese Rat. It was a dirty establishment with questionable food offerings and even more questionable decor.
Many times this week, Logan had found himself distracted by the large mural of a rat made out of cheese who was holding a smaller hunk of cheese as though he planned to eat it. Logan couldn’t help but stare at the image in horror, his mind desperately searching for some meaning in the piece. Was it meant to be a visual representation of pantheism wherein all things no matter the way humanity views them are ultimately the same and are god? That god is the creator, consumer, and consumed and god is reality itself. Was is a commentary on thoughtless, damaging consumption whereupon in one’s hunger and lust one eventually consumes themselves thereby destroying the vessel which one seeks to feed? Was the commissioner just deranged?
“Dude, for the 50th time, it is just a mural of a dumb character for kids,” the woman standing at the counter in the middle of the kitchen said as she sprinkled what could maybe pass for cheese on slabs of glorified cardboard the establishment called pizza crust. “I don’t know what to tell you. Just stop thinking about it and fix the sink.”
Logan tore his eyes away from the monstrosity he’d been staring at through the kitchen food window for the past minute and turned his attention back to the tool kit he’d been provided. He selected the correct tool and climbed back under the sink. He listened to the sounds of the woman continuing to make the “pizza.” Honestly, even if Logan did not know they were selling drugs out of the back, he still may have reported them to the authorities based solely on their food handling practices. In fact, perhaps the food was a worse offence considering that those buying their drugs knew they were purchasing and consuming harmful substances.
The underside of the sink he was under was disgusting, but the work wasn’t difficult. He’d learned enough about being generally handy from his father when he was young, and he had brushed up on those skills in the first apartment he’d shared with Virgil as that landlord did not care enough to fix things in a timely manner.
He still had his head under the sink when he heard footsteps enter the kitchen. He recognized Haynes’ voice as soon as the man spoke. He was explaining a few things about how his operation ran to whoever else was there. He used vague terms, but it was still a rather risky move with Logan and the “chef” in the same room, though it was quite possible she was in on the drug selling as well.
Logan finished fixing the sink without paying the conversation much mind; he already knew why he was here, and it was not to glean information. Logan intended to swipe what the man owed him as well as a steep amount of interest for his trouble. Then, he planned to send all of the information he had acquired about the business to the local law enforcement and let them deal with the rest.
He slid out from under the sink and glanced up. Immediately, he met the eyes of one of the room’s occupants and froze. He and Officer Remus Royal stared at each other for a few long moments before Remus tore his gaze away and looked back at Haynes. Logan breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t stupid enough to attempt to confront Logan in front of the drug dealer. That would have very likely ended badly for them both.
No longer being directly watched, though he imagined Remus was still tracking his movement from the corner of his eyes, Logan cleaned up his tools slowly and stood. His next task was to change a few lightbulbs behind the stage of the animatronic show, and while things had inevitably just changed, he still planned to at least keep up appearances until he could come up with an escape plan. He left the kitchen and moved towards the supply closet. He stored the toolbox there and his hand hovered over one of the screwdrivers for a moment, but he ultimately decided to leave it be. Remus was an inconvenience, but he couldn’t see himself stabbing the man through the eye socket with a screwdriver. He turned to the box of lightbulbs, wondering if he should take them with him or just completely throw out any pretenses of still intending to complete his handyman duties. That decision was made for him when the closet door suddenly opened.
Logan tensed for a fight, mind analyzing the situation. He didn’t have the element of surprise and Remus was bigger, but it was a smaller space that was more familiar to Logan. For most opponents, he’d want to try to angle them away from anything that could prove a fatal or extremely harmful improvised weapon, but in all the times Remus and he had fought in the past, the man always gentled his touch before it could do any true harm and never applied excessive force. Logan had found himself extending the same courtesy. So, in this case, the strategy would be to try to push him towards more deadly weapons which he would be unwilling to utilize. Of course, Remus still had the advantage as he was nearer to the door and Logan was more pinned into the back of the closet, but there was also a light switch right next to Logan and if he could turn it off…
“What are you doing here?” Remus asked the second the door closed behind him.
Logan hesitated. “You seem surprised. Are you not tracking me?”
His body language seemed to communicate that he didn’t intend to jump at Logan in the immediate future, but Logan still eyed him suspiciously. “Believe it or not,” Remus said. “I do have other jobs to do besides chasing you. I honestly did not expect to find you fixing a sink in a crappy pizzeria.”
“You’re truly not here for me?”
“You sound hurt,” Remus teased. “Apologies, I thought you knew this was an open relationship. I see other criminals all the time. Don’t you see other cops?”
“You’re the only one who’s ever been able to even partially keep up with me.”
“Well, I’ve been told I have quite the stamina,” he said, eyes sparkling.
Logan shifted slightly to the side but stilled again when Remus’s eyes immediately tracked the movement. “Stamina doesn’t provide much advantage when stuck in a closet with your opponent,” Logan said idly.
“Oh, I’d beg to differ,” he said lowly.
“So why are you here?” he asked instead of engaging.
“I’m undercover to help bring down Haynes,” Remus said. “He’s into some even skeevier stuff than his rat-infested restaurant”
“I’m aware,” Logan said. “I was actually planning to send an anonymous tip to local law enforcement when I was finished here, though it seems that will be unnecessary now.”
“You were?” Remus asked. “Why?”
“He owes me money, and besides that, he’s an asshole.”
“Asshole might be an understatement for a human trafficker.”
“A what?” Logan asked.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you know?” he asked, and suddenly the rat themed restaurant for kids took on an even more dark nauseating tone.
“I wouldn’t have done any work for him at all if I’d had even an inkling that he partook in that business as well,” Logan spat. “I’m taking him down even harder now.”
There was a moment of silence where Remus considered him, eyes unreadable and head slightly tilted. “So, we’re both here for the same reason,” he said.
“I guess we are.”
“Huh.”
“If you attempted to arrest me, it would blow your cover,” Logan pointed out and tilted his head, “and it would make my objective more difficult as well. Considering the severity of his crimes, would you be willing to make a temporary alliance just to make sure Haynes gets what he deserves?”
“Are you going to drug me at the end of it?” Remus asked.
“We’ll institute a 20-minute grace period after we’re finished. You don’t attempt to arrest me, and I don’t attempt to incapacitate you after we complete our objective.”
Remus took a moment to think through the offer, and then shoved his hands in his pocket. “Deal.”
“Very well,” Logan said. “So…”
The closet door was opened suddenly by a figure in one of the restaurant’s uniforms. “Wha-?” he started, but Remus reacted quickly, grabbing the person and slamming his hand over his mouth. Logan leaned forward and shut the door once Remus has wrestled him inside.
“Virgil?” Logan asked.
“Oh! Hey Virge,” Remus said in surprise. “You’re working at a pizzeria now?” Virgil tried to respond, but whatever he said was muffled by Remus’s hand. “Oh, right,” Remus said. “I’m going to uncover your mouth, but you have to promise not to scream.”
Virgil nodded vehemently.
“Wait,” Logan said, his eyes narrowed on Virgil. “He’s lying. He’s going to scream.”
Virgil shook his head in denial.
“I know you Virgil,” Logan said. “I can tell when you’re lying.” There was always a crinkle between his eyes because he overcorrected on trying to look earnest.
Virgil made a muffled whining sound in the back of his throat.
“Look,” Remus sighed. “I’ll take my hand off your mouth. Don’t scream, and we’ll talk it out, okay Virgil?”
Virgil nodded again, crinkle still prevalent between his eyes, and Logan pressed his lips together to watch.
Remus slowly removed his hand from Virgil’s mouth. There was a short moment of silence. Then… “AAAAmphpmphmpmphpm.” Logan slapped his own hand over the man’s mouth when he started to yell.
“I told you he was going to scream,” Logan commented idly.
“Mphfmkr,” was the angry reply as he tried to fight against Remus’s hold.
Remus sighed. “I was trying to be nice to you, Virge. Now we have to gag you.”
Virgil’s struggling increased, but Remus was easily able to hold him. Logan and Remus awkwardly managed to exchange their hands, so Logan was able to turn around and search the shelves for something to gag him with.
“Here,” Logan said. “This rope is still packaged so it should be clean.”
Virgil whined it protest.
“Well it’s that or duct tape, Virgil and I don’t relish in the pain that would doubtlessly result from the process of removing it.”
“Fmf. Ff.”
It was a struggle to get the rope between his teeth, but they managed it after a bit of wrestling. “Can I borrow your handcuffs?” Logan asked Remus.
“This time he asks,” Remus snarked, but handed them over.
Virgil made muffled irate noises behind the rope as he was cuffed to the metal shelving unit; Logan imagined whatever the man was trying to say was quite inspired.
“Sorry Virge,” Remus said, patting him on the head. “See you later.”
They shut the closet door behind them, and Logan locked the door with the keys he’d been provided. He handed the keys to Remus. “You’ll let him out after?” he asked.
“Of course,” Remus said. “I’ve got the emo.”
Logan nodded and turned from the closet. “Let’s go get a rat,” he said darkly.
Want to read more? The next installment is:
Kisses and Thai Noodle Leftovers
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queensofthekastle · 4 years
Note
For the dialogue prompt -- how's about 42?? :]
HOLY SHIT OK IT TOOK ME A MONTH BUT I'VE DONE IT. FINALLY. Life was just happening everywhere, thanks for waiting me out. 🙏
TW: descriptions and references to racist police violence.
The prompt was "I'm only here to establish an alibi." I was totally stuck--what could be blamed on Frank that he wouldn't have actually done? Canonically to the comics (though I commend the show for not giving a flying fuck about whether Frank went after glorified DHS cops who were dirty) the only things Frank won't touch are bystanders, cops, and active duty military.
And then I had it. Because 2020 has been A Year and I'm still processing some shit. So, here we go.
-Stellar
************************************
The door rattles under a succinct knock at 2:45 am—just when Karen had been so close to falling asleep, caught in that limbo of vague consciousness and wandering thoughts just on the cusp of falling into dreams. So, it’s with more irritation than concern that she drags herself out of bed after the second round of door-bludgeoning. It being post-closing time on a Friday—well, Saturday now—she's fairly confident what she’ll find through the peephole will be a drunk neighbor with the wrong apartment. It wouldn’t be the first time, nor, probably, the last.
A cautious look through the peephole does not reveal one of her gregarious bar-hopping neighbors though, but a still figure; hood pulled close around his face to shadow shifting eyes that look black as ink in the low, shit light of the apartment hallway. Frank has a lovely mouth, but it’s set now in a tense line. Karen’s heart picks up speed, a fullness in her chest and a pressure in her veins—middle of the night, tense Frank is never a good sign. Though he doesn’t seem to be bleeding from anywhere, which is more than can be said for some of his other visits.
She undoes the door chain, and she’s quietly but earnestly asking “what’s going on?” before she even has the door open wide enough for him to see her face.
“Nothing.” He says, voice rough and low, but calm. “I just need someone to know it’s nothing.”
He looks askance, looks at her. She allows herself a sigh.
“What does that even mean, Frank?”
He shifts his weight and looks at her from under the shadow of his hood. 
“I’m only here to establish an alibi.”
“Because you didn’t do something, or because you did?”
“Didn’t,” he says, and she believes him. She always does. It’s one piece of why he’s so dear to her: Frank never lies to her, and she never lies to him.
“This should be interesting,” she says, and opens the door far enough for him to step through. When she’s closed it behind him she asks if he’d like a drink. He answers without looking her in the eye, mind working on something else far away from her little apartment—he asks for his usual, of course. Only Frank would suggest coffee this near to 3:00 am.
“Not sleeping tonight?” she asks. He shrugs one shoulder.
“Guess not.”
“Uh-huh. So you didn’t do anything, but you’re pulling an all-nighter in my apartment? I’m going to need an explanation here soon, Frank.”
He hovers beside the hutch that acts as her kitchen island without looking any more settled than he had out in the hall. His jaw works for a moment before he answers.
“I don’t know how much you want to know. Let's just say I ran into someone with a mission about like mine and I’m giving her space to work.”
“Oh. God. A Punisher copycat? Jesus, Frank. The law turns a blind eye to one of you, I doubt you’ll get away with two.”
“Nah,” he says, “nothing like that. I’m it. This is a one-time thing—lady's got some things to get out of her system. I only found out because she was after the same supply chain I was.”
“Supply chain?”
“Ammo,” he says flatly. Karen holds her next blink a little too hard and a little too long. But he is what he is—she accepts that again every time she opens her door to him—and she doesn’t comment except to ask:
“Who is this person after that you aren’t?”
“It’s probably better you don't ask. If someone comes sniffing after me about it you should be able to say you didn’t know anything.”
“So if one of your Homeland ‘friends' shows up to see if you’re testing their good graces what do I tell them, then? That you just showed up at three in the morning for a chat? No one is going to buy that.”
He shifts, not quite shrugging, looking off into space with the raised eyebrows of feigned innocence.
“Just say I saw your light on, came to say hi.”
“Right. And you were walking around Hell’s Kitchen to see my light on in the first place because . . .?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Hoping maybe if I tried my luck with a walk I’d find you up.”
Karen sighs, turning away to pour his coffee. She’s made it thick as hot asphalt for him, in part because she knows he likes that, in part because she’s so damn tired she’d lost track of how many grounds she was piling into the coffeemaker. Frank takes the mug she offers him with a low “thank you.” And sure enough, after a sip, he smiles.
“You always make my kind of coffee,” he says.
“It’s an easy recipe,” she says, leaning over the counter opposite him, “just make it so no sane person would drink it.”
He laughs, a very short, low sound that rumbles in his chest and rasps in his throat. 
“Dare I ask what you were actually in the neighborhood for?” She asks. “If insomnia is your alibi?”
“Probably shouldn't. Let’s just say I had a meeting.”
Karen quirks an eyebrow, conveying as much skepticism with the look as she can.
“Meeting as in you’re probably accessory to whatever it is this friend of yours is doing?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
Karen fixes him with her best piercing journalist stare. He drinks his coffee. They stalemate that way in silence for a minute or so before he meets her eyes and speaks.
“There are some things I don’t touch,” he says. “People doing their jobs, following shit orders and shit training and fucking up in the process—shit I’ve done, Afghanistan . . . I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. Would be a hypocrite. It’s not my place. And I guess you could call it self-preservation, too. Doesn’t mean I don’t think about it, though.”
“Think about…?”
He takes a long drink, eyeing her over the top of the mug, making some calculation she can’t guess at.
“You know any Latin?” he says finally. “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes mean anything to you?”
It does, and for a moment, she’s sure her heart has stopped.
“Oh, no,” she says. “Who watches the watchmen. Tell me this is what I think it is.”
“I’m not telling you anything, don’t worry.”
“Frank,” she hisses. She doesn’t need his sarcasm right now. She thinks she knows what it could be that he won’t touch and still endorse: with Frank it’s always either war or justice, and every headline for the last month has been about the absence of justice on a battlefield where he could never hope to win. Cops in the city conveniently overlook Frank. He gets the ones they can’t, they have no vested interest in handing him over so long as he doesn’t mess with them. It’s an unspoken arrangement that lets Frank do what he does—and what he does lets him stand to live. Karen knows that. They’ve been over it enough. The police let Frank slip through their fingers and he doesn’t pick a fight in exchange.
But it’s been a long summer, and every day of it has been a fight with police for the thousands of protesters gathering over and over throughout the city. In early June a beat cop—White, of course—used a kind of handheld Taser repeatedly on an unarmed Black man “resisting arrest" for a crime he didn’t commit. Cell phone footage from witnesses made it online despite the NYPD's best efforts, and all anyone saw when watching it wasn’t a criminal resisting, but a victim on his knees, clutching his chest, begging please, please, I have a heart condition, I have a pacemaker, before the cop shocked him again. And again. Until he wasn’t on his knees but prone on the ground, gone still and silent.
The officer was reinstated after a paid leave six days ago. The DA declined to prosecute. 
And yesterday, the innocent man, having spent weeks in a coma induced by heart failure, was declared dead.
Frank looks Karen hard in the eye, an unflinching stare that says he knows she understands. She puts her face in her hands.
“There’s shitstorm coming, isn’t there?” she says.
“Probably.”
She shakes her head, drops it into her hands again. She can feel him watching her. A minute ticks by. Maybe two.
“Karen.”
She lifts her eyes just enough to meet his.
“You feel you gotta do something with this?” he asks. It neither a judgement nor a threat. She worries her lip for a moment before answering.
“This person you know of,” she says slowly, “they won’t implicate you?”
“No.”
“And do you know enough of their plan that you could stop them? Tip someone off?”
He takes a long drink, holding her with those deep inkdark eyes, and for the first time, he lies to her.
“No. Nothing.”
She knows it’s a lie. She knows he wants her to know. She could call him on it and he wouldn’t deny it. But she doesn’t. 
All she says is “then I guess there’s nothing we could do,” holding his eyes while she speaks, making sure he understands what’s happening here.
Frank nods. It’s enough.
Karen looks away, stares at her hands folded in front of her, tracing the patterns of veins under pale skin.
After a moment she asks, “would you like anything stronger?”
Frank looks at her with cool appraisal that says what he won’t out loud—that somehow, on some level, he helped with what’s to come. And he knows she’s letting him get away with it.
“No thanks,” he says. “But you go ahead.”
And she does. She falls asleep beside him on the couch, drunk with her head resting on his shoulder, sometime after 4:30, an economy bottle of wine that started full and is now half gone still out on the coffee table.
On Monday, Ellison will ask her to look into the story of a body found charred beyond recognition in an NYPD patrol car.
She’ll tell him there was nothing she could dig up, and never mention it again. 
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