#slight misogyny

[sirmanmister]

The Father(s) and Son(s)

The sound of exactly twenty-three caps hitting the table was distractingly clear in the noise of the loud room, and MacCready’s abrupt laugh was even louder.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” he laughed, and Damien scowled. “Jeez I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything serious out of a Vault dweller, but this is down-right hilarious!”

“C’mon, man, I haven’t exactly had time for a job, alright? I’ll get you more if you can tell me where Kellogg is."

Or: Damien’s paternal instincts get projected onto a stubborn young mercenary.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43924293/chapters/110441163

Chapter 1: The Mercenary

Music drifted over the Third Rail like fog on an early morning, the air just as humid and thick with unwashed bodies and sour beer. 

The lights were dim, the floor crowded and loud as patrons day-drank, and a pretty woman in a red dress stepped onto the stage in the corner, giving small waves as the crowd cheered.

She began her set, a lilting jazz song that lulled the rowdiness of the drunks; a pleasant background noise to the mumbled chatter that echoed down the subway tunnel that the bar was built in.

“Hey, handsome, you got a light?”

A man swathed in a blue jumpsuit looked down to see a young woman hanging onto his arm, looking up at him with big brown eyes and mascara’d lashes, which she fluttered up at him.

He almost couldn’t hear her over the din of the room and the deafness in his left ear. 

“I’ll lend it to you if you answer a question,” Damien said with a raised brow, ancient Bostonian accent slinging his words loose.

“‘Course, sugar,” the woman giggled, a hand wrapping around his waist.  

“I’m lookin’ for a guy,” he said.  “Got a kid with him, less than a year old.  Have you seen him?”

He held up a piece of scrap paper, where he had drawn out a crude visage of the man that had killed his wife and taken his son.

“Oh,” the woman said, her rosy red lips pressing into a frown.  “Why’re you lookin’ for him?”  Her tone turned sour, accusing, and she tried to step away.

Damien’s arm shot out and snatched the hand she put at his waist, narrowing his eyes.

“Do you know him?” He asked. “Do you know where Kellogg is?”

“‘Course I don’t, you sick fuck,” the woman said, wrenching her arm away.  “I don’t even wanna know what you want with him.  Stay away from me.”

He let her dissolve back into the crowd, scowling.

Nick had warned him of this.

Conrad Kellogg was a bad, bad man.

Assassinations, extortion, torture, kidnapping, it was all just services he offered.  He’d do any job out there, so long as the pay was right. Diamond City was too good for a man like Kellogg, but Goodneighbour wasn’t.  People in places like these gave people like Kellogg business, people recognized him, knew his name before Damien could open his mouth, but nobody was talking.

They didn’t know Damien like they knew Nick, who was wrapped up in conversation with a Mr. Handy at the bar, surrounded with people he had helped in the past.

They knew he was a detective, more man than machine, they knew he had good reasons to look for Kellogg.

But the people Damien talked to, begged for information, they didn’t know him.  They saw a man desperate to find another renowned for his cruelty, and they would have no part in assisting him, brushing him away before he could explain his reasons, and when he did, it didn’t matter in the end— Nobody knew where Kellogg was.

None of the few people Damien had talked to did, at least.

There were at least two dozen people in the bar, somebody had to know something. He couldn’t give up so easily.

He approached a table in the corner, where four women sat, and he offered a smile.

“Excuse me ladies, I hate to bother you, but do you mind if I ask you a couple questions?” he asked, and they shared glances as they giggled. 

“Ooh, this one’s got manners!” one cooed.

“That’s rare nowadays.  Maybe we should have been looking for a Vault boy this whole time,” another said.

“Ooh, exotic,” another woman laughed.

“Always loved the polite ones.  You keep anything but muscles in that tight-fittin’ Vault suit of yours?” the fourth woman teased, reaching out to brush Damien’s leg.

He stepped back, fighting a blush and not succeeding.

“Sorry, I’m really just lookin’ for a guy, alright?  He looks like this.”  He put his drawing of Kellogg on the table, and they passed it around. 

“Handsome. Looks like my ex!” one woman said.

“The one who fucked a ghoul?” another asked.

“The very one! Too bad that feral killed the bastard, I wanted to do it myself.”

“Oh, I always thought Jared was sweet.  Aside from the ghoul thing, of course.”

“C’mon, cut the gas, girls.  I’m being serious,” Damien urged.  “This guy kidnapped my son and killed my wife, okay? He’s dangerous.  Have you heard anything about this guy? Anything at all?”

Damien’s voice lilted to desperate at the end, and he forced himself to swallow down the emotion.  He’d hardly been able to control them the past few days, and he was getting damn tired of being a hat’s toss away from bursting into tears.  A man should have had better control over himself. 

The ladies, whom Damien was now realizing were quite intoxicated, all took on strange expressions.

“Ugh, I’m never going to find love again,” one sighed dramatically.

“Don’t be so hasty,” another chided.  “Dads have a sort of wild side to them that they can’t let out with the kids around.”

“You could be my daddy anyday,” another giggled.

“Oh you poor thing,” the last woman said, ignoring her colleagues.  “Too bad about your kid, but if you ever want to make another one…”

She winked and all her friends squealed with laughter, chastising her for being so naughty.

Damien, meanwhile, was trying to decide if he was the type of man to hit a woman.

“You fuckin’ skanks,” he hissed instead, fists balled at his sides.  “Choke on your own dad’s dick, you fucking cunts.”  

They all laughed and cooed and mocked him as Damien hurried away, trying to reel in his fury before it bubbled up to something worse.  

Beneath the anger, he was appalled; at the women, and at himself.  Damien had never been so disrespectful to any lady in his life, but the insults had poured out of him like a bitter drink that he couldn’t stop, and he hadn’t wanted to. 

Who were they to make such lewd jokes and comments while Damien’s son was on the line? How could they hear of his tragedy and have the gall to laugh in his face? Damien felt his insults were justified, but there was an undercurrent of shame with it, his own morals trodden in the absence of their own. 

But Damien couldn’t even fathom the idea of trying to apologize without red encroaching on the corners of his vision. 

As much as the women deserved to have their teeth kicked in, picking a fight wouldn’t do him or Shaun any good.

So Damien forced himself to calm, rubbing his thumbs across the crescent moon marks his fingernails had made in his palms and took slow, deliberate breaths.  Shaun was the only thing that mattered, not those bitches. 

After a few, long moments, his head finally cleared enough to think straight, and Damien sunk back into the crowd, casting the women from his thoughts as he went from table to table, apologizing for interrupting to the more open patrons and plowing right over their conversations to the more cagey ones.  Most of them were unhelpful, and a few were apologetic when he told them what Kellogg had done to Nora and Shaun, but most told him to fuck off once they’d answered his questions.

He came across a group of stereotypical rough guys playing poker around a table.

“‘Scuse me, fellas,” Damien greeted, internally wincing as the laughter he’d just interrupted died away.  “Can I-?”

“Aw fuck off, man,” one man huffed.  “We’ve seen you wanderin’ all over.  You lookin’ for a mercenary, go find MacCready and stop botherin’ us.”

Damien paused.

“Where’s this MacCready guy?”

“VIP room over there,” the man said, gesturing to a room across the pub.  “He’s a lil’ guy, all skinny with a stupid hat.  Can’t miss him.”

“Thanks.”  Damien turned and hurried away. 

It was better than nothing.

Nick was wrapped up in a conversation with a small group of drifters, so Damien didn’t bother trying to get his attention, venturing to the VIP room alone.  At first he was surprised that there was no bouncer, until he realized exactly who inhabited the room.

Intimidating men and one or two women sat at couches and tables in the small, humid space, talking loudly and sipping on beers.  Rough, scarred, armoured.  These people didn’t need protection, they were the protection.  

Damien scanned the crowd, eyes washing over the tough guys and bad boys until his gaze landed on a figure in the back. 

He wore a tan duster and green conductor’s cap, sitting alone with a beer in hand.  He was young, slender, but obviously quite lean underneath his oversized clothes. 

He wasn’t nervous, but he didn’t quite fit in, so easy to spot with that bright hat. 

Bingo. 

Damien approached and asked, “You MacCready?” 

His shadow fell over the slight man like a comedically oppressive force, and the mercenary puffed himself up, becoming rigid and sharp and his fingers tightened white around his beer bottle.

“I am,” MacCready replied, eyes narrowed.  “The hell do you want?”

“To talk to you,” Damien said calmly.  “Heard you’re a mercenary.  Mind if I sit?”

MacCready’s brow creased slightly, and his eyes raked up and down Damien’s form, hesitant when they landed on blue.  He seemed to realize he’d misread the situation, and slowly sat back.

“Fine,” he said, gesturing to the seat across from him, so Damien sat.  “This about a job?”

“A job somebody else did,” Damien said.  “There’s a guy I’m looking for, and he’s a mercenary, too.  I was wondering if you two might have crossed paths.”

He slid Kellogg’s paper across the table. 

MacCready frowned at it, thinking, then huffed and crossed his arms.

“I don’t do things for free,” he said simply.  

Oh.

Damien should have known.  MacCready was a mercenary.  Everything had a pricetag. 

Since Nick had brought Damien into the loop about the world’s current currency, Damien had made sure to start looting the almost-garbage bottle caps from the raiders he had encountered on the way to Goodneighbour, but even he knew he didn’t have much. 

The sound of exactly twenty-three caps hitting the table was distractingly clear in the noise of the loud room, and MacCready’s abrupt laugh was even louder.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” he laughed, and Damien scowled.  “Jeez I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything serious out of a Vault dweller, but this is down-right hilarious!”

“C’mon, man, I haven’t exactly had time for a job, alright? I’ll get you more if you can tell me where this guy is,” Damien said. 

MacCready snorted.

“What, first day in the wasteland?” 

“Third, actually,” Damien huffed, and MacCready’s brows rose in a sarcastic “ooh is that so?” sort of way over his bottle.  

“Look, alright, I get it.  This ain’t a lot of money, but I’m a man of my word, and-”

“Oh please,” MacCready interrupted with a scoff.  “If I believed every guy that said they were a man of their word, I would be dead at least eleven times over.  I don’t care if you’ve been in the wasteland for ten years or ten hours, I don’t owe you anything.”

He said it with so much finality that Damien almost believed him.

Almost.

“‘Course not,” Damien replied.  “Nobody owes nobody shit.  I’ve just gotta know, are you buddies with this guy? Don’t wanna snitch cuz he’ll do somethin’ to you?”

Now that Damien thought about it, why was a kid doing work like this? MacCready couldn’t have been much older than twenty.  Mercenary work was brutal, Damien was sure, but money was money, and if this kid was in debt…

“Nobody does nothing to me,” MacCready said firmly.  “And I don’t do nothing for nobody, unless they pay me.  Which you can’t, so goodbye.”

Damien’s hands clenched and unclenched under the table.

“I bet you don’t even know the guy I’m talking about,” he scoffed, indignant as anger throbbed like an ache in the back of his head.  “Ruthless.  Cold.  This guy is one of the big ones, cost you a fortune just to make him take your garbage out.”  Damien shook his head and spat.  “He’d never want to hang out with a small fry like you anyway.”

MacCready wrinkled his nose, glaring at Damien as his grip tightened around his beer again.

“And I take that as a compliment for my moral standards,” he sneered.  “Kellogg is batsh- Uh, nevermind.”

MacCready realized his mistake when Damien lit up.

“So you do know him?” 

“Even if I did, it’s none of your business.” 

“His entire fucking life is my business, because I’m going to fucking kill him,”

MacCready’s eyes narrowed, and Damien’s declaration hung in the air for a long moment.

“You want to find Kellogg, you can find two hundred caps and buy the info off me,” MacCready said, and it truly was final this time, his arms crossed and chin raised with youthful stubbornness.

Damien wondered if he was too proud to hit a teenager.

A flood of hopelessness suddenly swelled, washing over Damien like a tsunami, snuffing out his rage like water to a flame as he drowned.  

He leaned back in his chair and pressed his burning face into his hands, eyes stinging with shame.  

Information on Shaun’s kidnapper was right there, but Damien was utterly powerless to get it because of a goddamn paywall.

It was a measly two hundred bucks, his monthly car payments cost more, but Damien was such a lousy father he couldn’t cough it up for the most important boy in the world.  

Shaun could be anywhere by now.  He could be dead, or dying, or worse, and Damien couldn’t help him because of money he was stupid enough to not have. 

“Aw jeez, are you crying?” MacCready winced, obviously uncomfortable, but he made no move to extend condolences.

Damien let out a hollow laugh that nearly turned into a sob, and he struggled to hold the rest of his tears back as he rested his elbows on the table.

He couldn’t even blame MacCready, really.  No man worth his salt broke into tears at simply being told “no.” 

“Aw c’mon, dude, don’t make a scene,” MacCready chastised.  “Be a man about it.  There’s still some dignity in this.”

“You really think I’ve walked around half of Boston in a blue onesie worried about my dignity?” Damien laughed bitterly, and raised his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  Maybe when you’re older you’ll care about someone so much that dignity’s the last thing on your mind.”

For some reason, that struck a chord.

“Who the hell says I don’t care about somebody that much?” MacCready snapped.  “You don’t know me, pal.  You don’t know what I’ve done.  You don’t know the sacrifices I’ve made for people, how much stupid dignity I’ve given up already, alright? So don’t give me that bullcrap.”

Damien could hardly muster the energy to lean back in his chair, much less raise his voice and get into some pointless argument about sacrifice. 

“Do you want to be a father, Mac?” Damien asked quietly, and the merc went silent.  “Because I am one.  It’s a different kinda love, y’know?  I loved my wife with my whole heart, but there are some things I wouldn’t do for her, right?  But my son? I would claw the moon outta the damn sky if he asked.”

MacCready glanced away, but Damien continued, monotone and tired.

“This guy…” he gestured a limp hand to Kellogg’s drawing.  “He murdered my wife and stole my infant son out of her cold, dead arms.  He kidnapped my baby boy, and you’re telling me to have some goddamn dignity?” Damien let out a congested, bitter laugh, followed by a sniffle.  “I pray to god you’ll never have a kid you can’t protect, Mac.  This is a new kind of hell.”

MacCready flinched.  

It was barely noticeable, barely more than a twitch, but his brow creased and his mouth pressed into a straight thin line.

Tense, miserable silence followed, and it was a long time before either man spoke.

“...Kellogg kidnapped your kid, huh?” MacCready said quietly, eyes glued to the table.

“Even went through the effort to break into our Vault to do it.”

MacCready nodded slowly and let out a sigh, then looked at Damien.  Something familiar shone in those bright blue eyes, something that Damien had seen in the mirror more times than he could count.  

Guilt.

“Listen, I’m not in the habit of accepting such crap offers, so you keep this on the down low, understand?” MacCready hissed under his breath as he swept the caps off the table and into his pocket, and Damien’s eyes widened.  He nodded quickly, leaning forward so fast he almost got a head rush.   

“Kellogg is bad news with a capital B, alright? You don’t want to mess with him.  He’s one of the most dangerous men in the Commonwealth, and he knows it.  No job’s too dirty for him, and he’s dang good at what he does,” MacCready said, still hushed.  “When people tell him no witnesses, there are no witnesses.”

“But… he left me alive,” Damien said, and MacCready shrugged.

“Then whoever hired him must have not wanted you dead,” he said.  “Whatever the case, this guy is a professional.  Heard he doesn’t even have any enemies because he’s killed them all.”

Except for me, Damien thought, hands balling into fists, nails digging into the tender spots of his palms.  He almost didn’t care how or why somebody had hired Kellogg, but there were too many questions that begged for answers.  Why kidnap a baby? Why kill his mother but leave his father alive? How had they gotten inside the Vault? How had they even known there were people alive down there in the first place?  

“He comes through here every so often to pick up a few jobs that nobody else’ll touch,” MacCready continued.  “But I haven’t seen him in… eight weeks, I think? He was up on the street with some black guy in a weird leather jacket, talking about doing a big job and that he was needed in… Fort Haggis?”  

“Fort Hagen?”  Damien supplied.  An old Army base to the East.  He had been posted there a few times during the War.

“That’s the one,” MacCready said, snapping his fingers.  “Yeah.  Then they both gave me the stink eye for eavesdropping and I left pretty quick.  Because like I said, you don’t mess with Kellogg.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Damien said, and he meant it.  

“It doesn’t matter if you’re scared or not, he’s going to turn you into dust,” MacCready scoffed, but there was a lilt of irritation to his words, like he didn’t enjoy the thought of Damien going and throwing his life at something he saw as guaranteed death.  “You may think you’re hot sh- You may think you’re all that because you made it to Goodneighbour in one piece, but I’m warning you, man, Kellogg is dangerous.”

“Thanks, Mac, but don’t worry about me,” Damien said, making to stand.  “I’m dangerous, too.”

“Oh cut that badass crap,” MacCready snorted.  “And I’m not worried about you.  I’m just saying that if you were smart, you’d wait until you could scrounge up the money and hire an extra gun to help you.”

Damien chuckled and clapped MacCready on the shoulder, accidentally jostling the smaller man.

“‘Spose you’d be that extra gun, huh?” he teased, but then said sincerely, “I really appreciate your help, MacCready.  I won’t be forgetting it any time soon.”

MacCready seemed baffled by Damien’s earnesty, and blurted out, “Good luck finding your son.”

Damien smiled, nodded, and left.  He’d had enough detours— There was no time to waste.  

He ran into Nick by the stairs, where he was talking with a ghoul in a black tux, which Damien belatedly realized was the cleanest piece of clothing he’d seen thus far.

“Ah, there he is,” Nick said, turning.  “Where’d you run off to?”

“I got a lead,” Damien said in a rush, and Nick’s brow plates rose.  “Fort Hagen.  I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

He grabbed Nick’s arm and hauled the synth up the stairs, casting a brief “Have a nice afternoon,” to the disgruntled ghoul they left in the dust.

They were out of Goodneighbour and Damien was already mentally plotting a route to Fort Hagen when Nick placed a gentle hand on his arm, cold and rubbery, prompting him to stop his rushed pace through the ruined streets.  

“Hey.  Kellogg is no man to mess with,” Nick said.  “There’s a reason he’s been at the top of the game for so long, we can’t just rush in there without a plan.”

Offence rose like flames, and Damien bared his teeth. 

“He has my son,” he hissed.  “I don’t fucking care who he is, I’m going to kill him.”

“I’m sure you will,” Nick said, holding up his hands placatingly.  “But it might kill you, too, and that doesn’t do your son any favours.”

Damien blew air through his nose hard, nostrils flaring as he glared at the ground past Nick’s kind face.  He knew that, of course he knew that, but what else was he supposed to do? Not even try?

“Listen, let’s stop by Diamond City, it’s already on our way.  I want to stop in and tell Ellie I’m okay, and we can get you stocked up with armour and ammo, huh? We’re going to need all the firepower we can spare.”

Damien was quiet a long moment. 

“I don’t have any more money,” he admitted.  “Spent it getting info.”

“I’ll foot the bill,” Nick said easily.  “Owe you that much.”

Damien thought back to MacCready for just a moment, a brief fire of his brain as he contemplated asking Nick for two hundred dollars to get an extra gun, but he already knew that was asking too much.  He didn’t even want to go back into Goodneighbour, not while Finn’s body still lay in the street and skeevy people leered at his Vault suit, and MacCready was just a kid, anyway, no reason to put another one at risk. 

“Okay,” Damien said eventually.  “Lead the way.”

Chapter 2: Link

[aimlessetymology]

cannibalism

on loving people so much you want them to be a part of you forever, to consume and absorb them into your very being

licking remnants of them from your teeth, even just after a love bite or licking their wounds

seeing someone you're attracted to and wanting to tear into them, bite, gnaw, whatever,

and for anyone caught in the desperation that forms from mistreatment

an abuse victim, a woman coerced into dieting to appease something patriarchal in her life

the hunger that develops from deprivation after so long

when dwelling on it for even a few too many seconds starts a chain reaction

in the throat

working its way into the stomach and tying it into knots

hungering for something that'll satisfy you, really satisfy you

like being able to say with certainty that you have any amount of a certain someone else coursing through your veins

[housecow]

what are some things other than feedism and breeding that you’re into?

being loved and cherished 😭😭 also rocks and fossils, i know a crazy amount about the geologic timeline and texas geology :3

i know you probs mean kinks though!! i’m into some other things i prefer to keep between me and who i’m with 🫣

[andreal831]

Elijah antis make it so hard to talk about him.

Sometimes I just want to say "This a**hole."

And not get a hundred responses saying: "Thank you! Elijah is the worst, most evil character to ever exist in the world."

[princelylove]

I think it’s fairly obvious that mafiosi would have at least some sexism going on. It’s just shown differently, and it's hard to put them all in the same category because their psychology is different. For my freaks who happen to be into a little misogyny/sexism:

Call Guido old fashioned, but he thinks it’s wrong to be rough with a girl. It rubs him the wrong way. Yeah, of course girls can do whatever we can, he’s all for them working and voting and all the good stuff, but you just shouldn’t treat a girl like that. He tends to say ‘girl’ instead of ‘woman,’ even when he’s referring to someone that’s implied to be older than he is. 

When Guido interrogates Scolippi in the english dub, he says “I should end you for killing a girl,” and “You killed an innocent girl, psycho,” which could just be intentionally guilt tripping Scolippi, but Guido isn’t the guilt type. He’s an immediate physical punishment type. He hates men that harm women, no matter the degree. 

If he ends up having a crush on someone who is masculine, you might not notice at all (unless you pick up on his hesitation). Guido’s always been fairly handsy, he’ll put his arm around Pannacotta (who normally shoves him off), he picks up Narancia and won’t let him down until he gets his good morning cheek kiss, he’ll bother Giorno until he gets a little smoochie-woochie (said like that because he knows Giorno hates that sort of talk), and he sits way too close to his darling. He’s microdosing physical contact until he gets the nerve to actually touch you like he does Panna and Nara… Guys can play around, too, you know. But it’s different with his darling! He psyches himself out most times until he can find excuses to get handsy- like, he was just hugging Panna, he’s not gonna leave you out. Come on, man, you know you want one. 

With a feminine darling, he tries to be touchy and affectionate in the friend stage too, but he’s a little scared. You may notice his hands trembling as he picks you up, or that when he puts his arm around your waist, his hand hovers instead of resting on you. He’s strong enough to hold you up for quite a while, he’s just nervous. Poor guy. He gets rather panicky when he sees a girl in distress, if he ever scared you off, he doesn't even know what he'd do.

Narancia copies Bruno, but less in a ‘Chivalry is important’ sense and more of a ‘Masculine men don’t do certain shit’ sense. Which is missing the point of Bruno’s philosophy entirely. He doesn’t really have any women in his life, besides from Trish and she is not a role model for him or a spokesperson for all of womankind, so his only experience with women are the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and girl mags. 

He probably has a harder time with a masculine darling. He isn’t gay ‘cause he thinks you’re pretty, or whatever… You’re just, like… pretty, he guesses. Narancia tries to justify it- you’re pretty feminine for a dude! You have, like, soft hands. And soft hair. And… something else that justifies his crush. Oh! Oh! How you talk! Some people just sound feminine, you know? The words they use, and like, their tone. Like- Like Giorno! He’s a feminine guy, but he’s still a guy! Yeah, that justifies it for sure. Never mind the fact that you are not feminine in the slightest, Narancia will find some way to throw it on you so his crush is ‘ok.’

Leone surprisingly has nothing going on in the sexism department. Lucky him. He might speak a bit softer to a fem darling, but other than that, the experience is roughly the same.

Pannacotta’s distrust of women isn’t inherently sexist. It’s not like he thinks less of them, it’s just that it takes a significant amount of time for him to trust one. He gets along with men at the ‘normal, appropriate’ speed, he’d say. Never mind the fact that he’s distrusting in general and having a crush on a stranger is eating him alive. Strangers are never to be trusted- you just don’t know what they’re thinking about or what their intentions are. They could be perverse, or… just generally ill-willed. It’s unnerving. 

Trish is allergic to going fifty-fifty. It’s not that she’s super into gender roles or anything, it’s just that, she’s a girl, come on. Really? You’re gonna make her split the bill with you? She could be spending that money on, like, anything else. 

She has these expectations of you no matter your gender, don’t make her pay, give her your jacket when she’s cold, carry her shopping bags, get her flowers on valentine’s day, things like that. It’s less ‘I’m the girl in our relationship’ and more ‘I’m spoiled and won’t be bending anytime soon,’ but you could argue she has some internalized sexism going on. In fact I am making that argument.  Trish doesn’t have ‘boy’ hobbies, she’s vehemently opposed to doing masculine work. It isn’t sexist to have preferences, but it is sexist to scoff at your partner who is struggling with carrying something and go “You’re supposed to be stronger than that, you’re a guy.” Poor darling. You don’t get out of it if you’re feminine, either. She’s the girl, you’re her not-man. Perfect! When she eventually matures, she’ll help out a bit more, but it’s probably never equal.

[a-sketchy]

oh come on, where’s my option to join forces and two team them? or cheer her on from the sidelines even. chie can wreck shit actually i don’t want to deny her that

[cringefaecompilation]

Hi same anon from the ask about Taliesin’s characters… yes I didn’t intend to shift focus from the subject of being shitty about Robbie’s presence as a Native man in the cast at large. I just… cannot understand how anyone could see the improvised unfolding of these stories and conclude that Taliesin could possibly have been slighted in either circumstance.

Boiling Dorian’s character down to how he can support someone else (read: particularly a white male cast member and a character who is for all intents and purposes perceived in campaign as a white man) is ridiculous all on its own and it should be called out when people in the minority are turned reductive by fandom discourse.

yeah, yeah, exactly! that's what annoys me about how people treat him!

and it sucks when you have people who go out of their way to act like it's somehow robbie's fault for dorian fans being racist and insist his character is Actually Just Boring or doesn't apply to the themes told by the story so it's okay to ignore him!

i want to know everything about the silken squall! tell me what his life is like and what he wants to be, don't just make him Will of the Air Ashari... 2! or shove him off to the sidelines because you dislike a ship he's in.

[fleshdyke]

just thought abt stephen king mambo no5

[oblivious-aro]

Does the Ninjago side plot in season 5 where the ninja are struggling to pick a new leader make any sense?

No, Lloyd was never really their leader, and in fact, the ninja team never really felt like it had a particular leader, but had all the ninja share the role in a way that felt satisfying and natural.

But consider, it's fun having the main characters take turns and seeing how they handle the leadership role, so shut up.

[suffarustuffaru]

i just. remembered again that i have a fembaru fic but also the premise is. Very Messed Up hah and also it was written before the canon genderbent au with its official genderbend names for everyone so its also outdated on top of that T^T i had like. Genderqueer subtext going on too. but i also wrote this fic like almost two years ago and havent touched it in forever so im unsure if i should go back to it…. o.o but i would love to finish it one day if only for my own satisfaction hah… i had a very detailed outline for ch 2 (its a twoshot) and several scenes written already anyway!! (and also i would probably update those names, make minor edits, etc etc hmm…)

[gilliganpilled]

rewatching BCS S1 and it makes me seethe watching chuck make a pot of coffee KNOWING he later asks kim to make him coffee like she’s a fucking secretary

[sotterramii]

Tell me why I'm opening tiktok and all I see are edits of Nathan and gabriel....with no annalise

And people saying they don't like nathan and annalise together they just want him with gabriel

like did we watch the same show why are you all treating her like she's nonexistent?????

Like ship aside if I came across one of those edits I'd just think it's another mlm love story and they were the only two leads in the show

[andthemaidenfair]

Cersei’s real problem is that she never learned how to learn. Which isn’t the same as being too stupid to learn.

In order to be able to learn you must accept that there are things that you don’t know. And you must accept that there are people who know something that you don’t and be willing to let them explain things to you. If you want to be cynical about it, it’s an admission of vulnerability even if it’s only an admission to yourself. I don’t really see it that way because everyone knows something you don’t even if you know many things but I’m not Cersei.

Cersei doesn’t have it in her to admit she makes mistakes or to defer to anyone else’s expertise or even their lived experience. She retcons things in her own head to make everything someone else’s fault or make it seem TO HERSELF IN HER OWN HEAD like she’d known the right answer all along. She is incapable of admitting fault are ignorance even just to herself in her own head and for that reason she is doomed. I think she’d struggle with this side of her no matter what but I also don’t think this problem had to be so bad. I think she could have been given the tools to learn if the adults around her had bothered to check her attitude or put any effort into her education. I think Joanna would have if she’d lived. But I don’t think Tywin actually paid attention enough to notice a problem.

[darcyolsson]

actually how do you feel about the queer rep in tsc in general, b/c i feel like it's so good but also sometimes. Bad. like Anna was so messy imo, both as a nonbinary character and her relationship to Ari. but at the same time she writes so much queer rep for such a big and mainstream series.

i think the short answer is "overall very good, but not perfect, as can be expected from a cishet woman in her 40s"

long answer is yeah, it's a bit of a mixed bag sometimes, but generally good. i think she treats her queer and her cishet characters equally, without putting too much thought into certain sterotypes she wants to avoid, which does lead to a few questionable moments. (though she does avoid killing her queer characters like the plague, which, so true. keep that up)

i think a good example of this is how both magnus and matthew, two of the most prominent bisexual characters, are both known for being very flirtatious people, which is a negative sterotype i think most authors as dedicated to writing rep as cc would want to avoid. at the same time, there's also slutty characters who aren't bi (jace, isabelle, anna) and bi characters who aren't slutty (mark, kieran, helen). would it be better if she had avoided this stereotype altogether? i don't know!

same goes for the way cetain characters talk about magnus' femininity. though it's generally respected and generally admired, it's absolutely used as the butt of a joke like... all the time. would it be better if no one made fun of it, even though magnus' femininity is also explicity admired in-text by just as many people? i don't know, you tell me.

anna is......... a lot to unpack, isn't she. i can't really say how i feel about her gender identity since i'm not nonbinary myself, but i do think that if cc set out to write a genderqueer character she could have made that more explicit. i get that tlh being set in the 1900s leads to some complications, but i think a sensitivity reader may have helped her a bit here.

i do think her and ari's romance lacked a certain depth that other couples were given (and same goes for helen and aline, though they are obviously not main characters). i think this is mostly due to the way cc writes her male and female characters, or rather, their romances. it's a little hard to put into words but i feel like, in the end, her female characters are the ones who are regular people while the male characters often step into the sexy love interest role, ready to admire the Main Girl any opportunity he gets. that's not to say that most characters don't carry elements of both these roles sometimes, but it kind of leaves us with, like, Lesbian Sheep? does anyone get what the fuck i'm trying to say?

basically, when your romances depend on men being sexy dreamboats waiting for a girl to slowly fall in love with him, it's hard to write one without a man in there. the reason why ari and anna don't read as romantic is because they're both rational, three-dimensional people, whose main purpose in life is not getting the attention of some girl, when cc's romances almost always depend on the core dynamic being Regular Girl x Universally Admired Guy Who Would Kill Himself For Her If She Asked. (sizzy is a very notable exception to this, with izzy being the universally admired guy, while simon is the regular girl.)

basically, think her desire to write all her women as relatable, rational people for whom romance is not the single most important thing in their lives is preventing her from doing it. i'm very curious to see if twp will give us a better take on a lesbian romance but i don't count on it unfortunately!

[mara-xx217]

Can i BEG you to do something where the yandere dbd killers react to their S/O somehow getting stuck on a wall? Like, they tried to squeese through a whole in the shack or something and now they are stuck in a compromising position (and looking very much breedable LOL) please and thank you? If u need specific killers: Wraith, evan, oni? pls pls pls <3

Oh THIS is perfect and right up my alley! This has become rather mean spirited in the end XD

Warnings: Dubcon, Toxic Relationships, Misogyny, Crying, Slight Voyeurism

It looked like you could squeeze through that gap. You could not. The more you struggled, the more stuck you became. Now your front half is free... but from your waist down was suck outside. It was humiliating, made even worse when you... felt something touch you...

Evan Macmillan/the Trapper

Somehow, he's not surprised. Maybe a little disappointed, even. Annoyed, just a touch. But another feeling blankets it all.

You were so stupid. Evan knows he would hate for you to be intelligent- god forbid more so than him-, but he can't help but to feel seething contempt for you lack of basic environmental awareness. Yet...

There was no way in hell he would miss the opportunity to fuck teach you a lesson. Even as he approached you, you were totally oblivious to your unique situation.

"A-Ah? Evan? Thank God! I- uh, am stuck-"

Why would he even dignify that deceleration with a response? You noticeably tried to twist your body in order to look behind you, but didn't quite manage it. Maybe you were in pain, or simply experiencing discomfort. He didn't really care.

Even if you wanted to try to stop him, you couldn't. Not that you would, regardless of your compromising position. It's probably the most helpless you've ever felt in a long time.

A large hand ghosted over your hip, down the curve of your ass, then back up. He grabbed the waistband of your pants- underwear and all- and yanked it down to your mid thigh.

Oh. Oh shit-

It would be a lie to say you weren't slightly aroused from your little predicament. Well... maybe more than a little. Evan slid his fingers in with an ease that surprised you. You lurched forward slightly, but you had nowhere to go.

The wood dug into your mid-section uncomfortably, painfully, at times, though it was numbed by the steady movement of Evan's wrist. You could have cried when he pulled his hand away, but the sudden burn of his cock stretching your insides made you yelp in surprise.

You did cry. Between the jarring feeling of your insides being shoved and pulled around, the seemingly nonstop smacking of one or both of your ass cheeks, and wood splinters digging into your torso and cutting into you every time you were dragged backwards then suddenly shoved forwards by Evan's hips-

It was kind of impressive that Evan fucked you so hard that he nearly freed you from your entrapment. Wood cracked and splintered further, you couldn't keep your balance and the pressure on your chest kept you from taking a full breath.

Hot, sticky, slippery- Fuck your legs are shaking and you don't think you can walk after this... Evan probably wouldn't let you, anyways. Not that you had the opportunity to mind, that is.

Philip Ojomo/the Wraith

You are always a delight. Running away scared, cowering in a corner, crying hysterically- You were simply perfect. Entertaining and so, so sweet...

Once, you nearly found yourself in such a situation, but were able to free yourself before he could get too close. Now, though? You're stuck, totally and utterly. Ass in what was once the office of Philip's old boss, part of your front half sticking out and to the bitter chill of the realm.

There's no way in hell Philip will miss an opportunity like this.

You couldn't see him approach- somehow you never could quite see his cloak. You were on the verge of frustrated (or terrified) tears as you twisted and struggled and kicked and flailed your arm against the wooden and sheet-metal walls.

It was startling when something cold brushed against your cheek. Okay, it was fucking terrifying. You didn't immediately think of Philip- really, it was hard to think about anything at all. The finer details escaped you. You didn't recognize the feeling of fingertips on your skin, sharp nails dragging down your jaw, your neck, your shoulder...

Only when a set of digits pushed against and past your slightly parted lips did you finally recognize who the touches belonged to.

It wasn't so bad, then. You relaxed a little, even though your heart still slammed against your ribs and that pit in your stomach merely twisted and hardened. If you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You aren't scared, just excited. Aroused-

You sniffled and blinked away your tears as you felt something, once again, prod your lips. It was brief, with a hand on the top of your head. Encouraging. Kind of nice...

It was hard to do much of anything, as stuck as you were. You sighed in relief when he finally pulled away from you. It caught in your throat when he pulled away from you completely.

What must have been a few seconds felt like minutes- no, hours. Silent and still. Cold. Uncomfortable with an aching jaw and a soreness that was blooming around your torso. You shifted. No, you can't get out. You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together. Uncomfortable... and scared.

You nearly fainted when those cold hands smoothed down your spine. No sound, no warning. How long was he standing there? Not being able to see what was happening to you scared you more than anything. Only by touch could you know what was happening behind you.

On your hips, lower, in between- O-Oh...

You only squeaked when he pulled down your shorts and underwear. Cold. Cold- Philip is always cold. And rough and too fast- You couldn't breath!

He left you there for a while after he was done with you. Philip didn't leave, no. He stayed, you're sure of it. You felt his eyes on you the entire time.

Kazan Yamaoka/the Oni

It's more of a wonder as to how, or even why, you thought that was a good idea. Kazan pondered if you really were the right vessel for his lineage. A person can not be this stupid. Simple and purely idiotic... Maybe you really were more akin to a dog...

Truly something to be pitied and kept on a short leash...

Kazan could just pull you from your self-made prison. It wouldn't be difficult for him. Just a little pull... or push. You pathetically tilted your head to the side, meeting his gaze with a sheepish grin. Something inside of him softened, if only a bit.

"O-Oh... Oh, dear... a big, strong, honourable samurai! C-Could- Would you help me, perhaps?" You fluttered your eyelashes. That ridiculous grin should have been unflattering but you still retained whatever charm you had.

Fine. He supposes he could help. Kazan sheathed his sword and gripped the back of your shirt tightly. Just as he was about to start pulling-

"Hehe... noooo, dooon't rip my clothes! I'm in suuuch a compromising position!~"

You were giggling and smiling, face slightly coloured and fidgeting and wiggling in the way you always do when you were in... need of him. Kazan was torn. Were you asking for him to be gentle, or were you being coy?

The fabric of your shirt slipped from his fingers as he struggled to read your intentions. It was only when you beckoned him closer and gave him a kiss did he realize that yes, you were being coy. And you certainly were giving him permission to do as he pleased.

And pleased he was.

It was an unfortunate position to be found in but there was humour to it. You were in high spirits and willing to make the most of it. Perhaps you even did this on purpose? For yourself? Him? Perhaps the both of you- yes, that's most likely.

The situation was thrilling. Erotic. Kazan now appreciated the situation for what it was. You were helpless. Blind to a whole half of your body. Your reactions were genuine and pure. Your voice? Purely angelic...

What was that thing you always said? Submissive and breedable? It was in poor taste but so wonderfully accurate. You willingly and eagerly submitting to him and begging to be the vessel of his heir has always done things to Kazan. Now is no different.

You were sore and weak after he was finished with you. If you don't fall pregnant after this session, Kazan supposes the two of you could try it again...

Or do it again, regardless of the outcome...

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire

[mars-ipan]

hot take transmascs do face a kind of oppression specific to them but it’s not transandrophobia or whatever ppl are calling it it’s just toxic masculinity and regular misogyny