Scum Villain fans are so funny because we operate on levels of problematic that most people couldn't even understand and it doesn't even matter. Like actually most of the problematic stuff other fandoms accuse our source material of having (age difference, abuse) is just surface level fluff that evens out during the plot or is the result of misinformation. So yeah it's not problematic in those ways. But if you're still interested we can talk about how it actually is weird as hell ! (freudian analysis, transphobic trans sqq, infecting your teacher with parasitic blood worms that destroy his intestines
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" don't be stupid. you're not going anywhere. come on, back into bed… " ( from cyrillo for sa! maybe she's got quick healing but that doesn't mean she doesn't need rest uvu )
Prompts / Always Accepting // @tvrningout
"I've been in bed plenty," Sasume snipes back, (mostly) redressed and scowling at the handsome-bastard roadblock filling the doorway as she yanks her hair out from under her shirt. She knows what he means, of course, but quite simply she doesn't care.
Shoving herself to her feet makes her legs reignite with pain and tenderness, to say nothing of the ever-familiar sensation of the now-healed wounds which are all-but trying to rake in on pain debt. Most is fine, like her legs, but the worst of it (that'd always prompt her into around-the-clock use of Third in the first place) hardly feels healed at all.
(Of course, as proven when she was a kid, actually taking it easy— and not exploiting Third whenever necessary to fight off sleep— minimized the rebound. But—)
Still, she crosses her arms and glowers up at him.
"Now are you going to move or am I going to have to make you." As if she can do much of anything to intimidate him with how he's seen her in the last hour.
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my favorite type of self-deception is when i tell myself i'll write fic once my apartment is clean. babe it's never gonna be clean 💕
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I don't know if it's because i kept thinking about the well or the shooting or the hostage situation where Buck is loud and scared and panicked screaming Eddies name at the top of his lungs but having a soft and calm and comfortable Buck in Eddie's kitchen looking at Eddie like that while softly saying his name is twisting my heart in knots.
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I don't know; I kind of think that our culture is based around systematic denial of human limitations. I mean, there's the eight-hour work day (which is about 4 hours longer than most people are consistently able to remain productive); buffing your qualifications on job applications (which everyone needs to do to some extent, because everyone else is doing it); the expectation of multitasking, even though it's not really possible; academics are running around with impostor syndrome, ultimately because there's only so many books that an individual is capable of reading, while a bunch of liars and grifters pretend that they're experts at *everything* and are held up as thought leaders. Billionaires are held up as if they're just incredibly hard workers, photoshopped movie stars held up as if they're just incredibly beautiful. We feel guilty for not being something that never has and can never exist.
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Can you do something where Aaron hearts the reader refer to Jack as my kid/our son for the first time? And he just gets all smiley and happy.
fem!plus size reader, wc: 385.
a/n: sorry for my short absence, i was a little busy, so i just needed a little bit of rest, but i'm back and here is something nice and sugary sweet! thank you for your requests and thank you to everyone for the recent influx of support, it means so much!!
It was one of those rare moments where Aaron was able to stay home during the weekend.
He was already sitting at the kitchen table with his mug of coffee – that you lovingly prepared for him – admiring you as you moved about in the kitchen itself. From the cabinet to the stove where you were flipping pancakes, you had your phone tucked up under your chin, presumably listening to your best friend ramble about whatever drama she had going on at the moment.
“No yeah – hold on a sec.” You were in the middle of agreeing with something she said when little Jack Hotchner lightly tugged on your pajama-shirt. “Yes, sweetheart?” You asked the boy, giving him your full undivided attention despite being in the middle multitasking.
“Do we have strawberries?” He asked sweetly. You smiled fondly, gently stroking his hair gently. “Of course we do. Do you want some with your pancakes?” He nodded shyly, “Yes please.”
“Not a problem, sweets.”
With that, the boy scampered off, presumably back to playing with whatever toy he had been obsessed with recently.
The sight of you and his son never failed to make Aaron’s heart shoot straight out of his chest. He was always so grateful that you took Jack under your wing, because dating when you had a kid was hard, and he and his son were a package duo. Plus, he really liked you, so instead of pretending you had to go to the bathroom when you were on a date with him, and he had told you he was a father, you just simply smiled and said you couldn’t wait to meet him.
“Who was that?” You reiterated the question your friend must have asked you. “Oh, just my son. Sorry, he was asking about strawberries.”
‘Oh, just my son.’
The words had left your mouth like it was as easy as breathing air. You probably hadn’t even realized what you said with all of the things that you were doing, but he knew that you meant it, there was sincerity in your words.
Aaron was smiling. Hard. So hard that he had to force himself to hide it behind the rim of his cup. Everything that was happening was so domestic that he thought that maybe he could get used to this.
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