#Affordable Fence And Gate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

princessbrunette · 7 months ago

Text

can’t stop thinking about all the little ways apocalypse!johnb displays casual dominance.

it’s the little things, like the hand he always seems to have on the back of your neck. it’s gentle most times, standing around the camp together with the warm caress of his palm cupping the tepid skin there, rubbing a thumb along the bottom of your scalp whilst he listens to pope talk about the control tower updates. you like it, it makes you feel held without making a big scene of things. love and pda was a touchy subject now that so many people had lost someone, or were just suffering from loneliness so you didn’t wanna rub it in everyone’s faces that you’d found eachother. the gentle touch keeps you near to him, the way he likes it.

john b just does things for you to help get you ready and speed the day along. something you notice, is the way he’ll lay out an outfit for you on a cold winter morning as you stand there in pyjamas all puffy and half awake, watching in silence as you adapt to being conscious. you’re sure it’s roughly 6AM — but he’s moving around quickly throwing your things together so he can take you out into the woods within the fences and reach you how to shoot. you can tell the visage of sarah’s passing still haunts him, which is why he gets these random trauma fuelled bouts of sudden desperation to teach you to protect yourself, just incase. you pout grumpily because when it was john b who was dressing you, he would never let you dress cute during the literal end of the world. you’d mutter out something about it ‘stifling your creativity’ which he’d ignore as he starts to pull your pyjamas off to help you change. he’d pile warm layers on warm layers that would keep you comfortable in the morning chill which was honestly sweet — given that he was dressing you like a little teddy bear in those fuzzy sweaters, thick jeans and boots that you’d replaced the laces with ribbons. you didn’t really mind, not at all.

aside from this, he doesn’t let you come anywhere that he deems too dangerous — meaning it was rare you ever got to leave the gates to kitty hawk — no matter how often you whined about it. “look, okay — the answer is no. you’re not coming. no way.” he was hard on you because he cares, and felt it was his duty to keep you safe.

when he eventually lets you out with him he’s practically got you on a leash, gripping you by the shoulders and lecturing you if you take a step too far. he mellows out if it really does feel safe, only pulling you back towards him to bring his water bottle to your mouth, mopping you up when some dribbles out. “need to stay hydrated, okay — can’t afford to have you passing out.”

when you stop listening or go into your occasional daydream, john b isn’t afraid to check you. especially if it was important. you’d zoned out while jj stands before the entire camp, briefing all the campers you’d collected on some new weapons that had arrived from a successful supply hunt. he was the weapons master after all, so he really knew his stuff. you knew john b was stood at your side with that same tense look, brow creased and arms folded — but when you begin staring off at the treeline his attention turns to you, unfolding his arms to lightly grip your chin to point it back to the front. “listen up. this is no joke.” he’d warn.

overall, he’s mega patient with you. as you might imagine, you’re always thrilled to see him when he comes home from a long supply hunt or anywhere really that he had to travel to, which sometimes can take up to a week. john b, being the guy he is always has some kind of news to tell the group — so usually he barrels back through the doors immediately talking at everyone with this new information. this of course doesn’t stop you from running to his side and throwing your arms around him. the routledge boys flow state remains unbroken, continuing to ramble at the group as his hand rubs your lower back, letting you cuddle into his side. you knew he’d give you his full attention later on, laying with you quietly talking on the hammocks outside your shared cabin — but for now you didn’t mind. sometimes the casual nonchalance turned you on.

his dominance can shine through in real gentle ways sometimes — your boyfriend squatting down infront of you when you’re sat on the floor of your shared little cabin, cleaning his weapons for him wearing your dirty little white nightgown that you’d scouted on one of your few supply runs. his knees click when they bend and he’s a little tired looking but he smiles big anyway when he brings his backpack to his front, rifling through it until he pulls out a new girly trinket he’d found for you on a trip. you’re unsure as to whether or not he’s talking so gently because he’s exhausted — or because he’s just so sweet on you but he holds your gift up and barely raises his volume to say “hey, got you something. do you like it sweetheart? found it just for you ‘cause you’d been so good this week bubba.”

he often comforts you when you get upset over him returning home with a dead rabbit slung over his shoulders. “okay, oh god — you were not meant to see that.” he deadpans when you catch him in the act — but soon he’s got you scooped up on his lap (with the rabbit cooking outside over a fire) as he rocks you back and forth. “look, we have to eat sweetheart. i swear i didn’t wanna kill that bunny but we don’t have much choice right now. you can close your eyes the whole time. i’m gonna feed it to you. okay?”

of course, some dominance is just far from casual — like when he’d return from a pharmacy run during the week with his pockets stuffed with condoms so he can put your legs over his shoulders and stuff your aching cunt. “i know baby, i know it’s— it’s definitely been a while. haven’t been able to find protection i can trust literally anywhere but i’ve got heaps now, so i can fuck that sweet little pussy the way you want. i know you missed it sweet girl, i know.”

#apocalypse!au #apocalypse!johnb #john b prompt

453 notes · View notes

lunajay33 · 10 months ago

Text

Migraine🕷️

Summary: You get frequent migraines but they’ve been mia since the apocalypse but even since you got to the farm they’ve returned but you didn’t wanna bother anyone until Daryl finds you balled up on the floor in pain

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Request by @avrmee

•Masterlist•

Soul crushing migranes were always a struggle to deal with before the world ended, but there was ways to try and relieve them, medicine, piercings, acupuncture but now that it’s been about a year and there was no more medicine or anything really the migraines came back and almost stronger than before

They’d come on when the heat was high and the sun was near blinding, triggering what ever it was in your head to cause crippling pain that no matter how much pressure you applied to your eyes or the amount of water you drank it didn’t matter, but in this world you couldn’t afford to take a day off especially with all the work the others were putting into the prison it was only fair you pull your weight even through the pain

Walking out of prison, opening the door to the blinding white light that was the Georgia sun stung just hoping it didn’t flair up another episode, walking out to the court yard where Daryl was tinkering on his bike you sat next to him

“I missed you this morning” you said leaning your head against his shoulder as he used a wrench against…..well you have no clue but you loved watching him work

“Sorry ya know I’m an early riser plus ya’ve been sleeping lot longer now, ya okay?”

You didn’t wanna worry him and tell him that after these long days of over exerting yourself in the heat that the pain in your head kept you awake late into the night causing you to wake up later than everyone else

“Oh yeah I’m fine, just tired is all, plus I got a beautiful sight next to me at night it’s hard to fall asleep” you laughed poking his side making him gruff out a laugh

“Well I have to go work on the crowd of walkers around the fence, if you need me I’ll be there” I said leaving his side walking down to the entrance gate, using a pole to take down as many walkers as you could working your way down the fence, working for hours when you felt an aura around your head, the groans and snaps of jaws became louder and overwhelming, your knees became weak, you became nauseous as your vision became blurred and specked with black dots, all topped off by the painful pressure in your head

Losing control you dropped to the gravel clutching your head in your hands, knees tucked up to your chest, whining from the pain, this is one of the worst it’s ever been, in the distance you could hear your name being yelled but everything was so overwhelming you couldn’t even process it until the screams got closer

“Y/n baby what’s wrong” Daryl asked holding your body close to his, your head in his lap as he rubbed your back

“It…….it hurts so much” you whined as you clutched your head more wishing for this pain to fade

He just held you for what felt like half an hour trying to comfort me, the walkers noises started to dwindle someone must have came down with Daryl to take them out, you huffed out a breath as the pain subsided a bit giving you enough strength to sit up, seeing his worried expression

“What happened?” He asked brushing my disheveled hair back

“I get this awful migraines, I didn’t wanna say anything and use it as an excuse but they keep me up at night but sometimes they get so bad, like this and I don’t know how to stop them”

“Darlin ya should have said something, we’d understand, I could’ve tried to help ya at night”

“I know how hard you work all day you need your sleep”

“But if yer feeling sick yer more important, promise me you’ll let me help ya”

You bit your lip hesitant not wanting to be a burden

“Y/n” he said sternly

“Okay I promise”

“Good, ya know yer damn stubborn”

“You love me” you said smiling

“Yer lucky I do”

983 notes · View notes

bangtanficsforyou · 9 months ago

Text

Hello, Love (JJK)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, probable smut (we don't know yet lololol)

Rating: 18+

Summary: You had a plan when you returned home, seven years later. However, falling in love with your sister's fiance wasn't it.

Warning: mentions of drug addiction, familial neglect.

A/N: Based on a movie 😏📸. Also, here's a post explaining why I disappeared.

Playlist | Patreon

“So you’re getting married tomorrow, huh?” the rhetorical question slips from your mouth with a smile. A smile that in every way looks, forced.

You don’t know what you were thiniking. But a part of you, just wanted to have a conversation with your sister. Maybe you had hoped for it to be like one of those conversations. The kind that you’d see in movies, taking place between two sisters, when one is about to hit a big milestone.

Maybe a little reminscing about the old days. A little recallation of the past times when you both got into trouble. Joking about the embarassing moments. A little laughter, a few tears and hearts filled with warmth.

“Yes, I am,” your sister replies without bothering to look up.

You linger at the doorway for a moment and then realise how stupid you were.

You nod, knowing very well that this is pretty much the end of the conversation–if you could even call it that. You let the door shut quietly and slip out of the room.

Tomorrow, your sister is getting married. Your elder sister, to be more specific.

She is getting married to the man she loves, to the man she has been in a relationship with for seven years.

The man, who unfortunately happens to be the one you have fallen in love with, in the span of these last few weeks.

Oh how did you get into this mess and expect it to result into anything other than heartbreak?

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The loud music playing through the speakers tempts you to join the ongoing celebrations. You look at the joyful faces of your family members and a smile appears on your face. Lord knows when you will be seeing them next.

“Please take care of yourselves,” you whisper, knowing very well that you should leave as quickly as possible.

However, your gaze lingers on one person in particular. Your father. Oh, how you wish you could just hug him once before leaving. But that might not be a smart move. Your resolve might weaken on feeling his arms around you. No, you cannot afford that.

You take a deep inhale and turn away from the wedding celebrations. You march towards the exit gate with hurried steps. Your feet however, come to a halt when you spot one of your friends chatting with some guy near the gate. Shit. You turn away immediately and flee the spot before she can spot you.

Once you’re sure that there is no way for her to see you, you release a sigh of relief. You have no idea how you’d have explained the bags and luggage you’re currently carrying, had she seen you.

The thought of that makes you feel more urgency to leave this wedding venue. You look around frantically hoping that there would be some other gate. You do spot one, however, there stands your father’s uncle’s son’s son, who has seemingly found this to be the ideal smoking spot.

A few moments later, you come to the conclusion that there is indeed, only one way to escape this place. You need to climb over the wall.

You find a quiet place, away from the crowd, that has very dim lighting. You throw your bags over the wall and wait for the thud to confirm that your bags have landed on the other side. Then, you roll the sleeves of your shirt up and get ready for the difficult part; the climbing.

Thanks to your experience with tree climbing, you somehow successfully manage to climb the wall at your second attempt. However, it’s that wired fence that causes you more trouble than you would have ever imagined.

Somehow, it gets stuck to the back of your shirt in such an awkward position that you cannot even grab a hold of it properly. The only way for you to get your shirt unstuck would be to pull the piece of cloth hard enough. But then you cannot do that. It will tear your shirt and boy, where will you go and change now?

Slowly, very slowly, you move the shirt, hoping somehow, it would get freed from the wire.

Okay, so maybe a little this side–a little on the other–no, wait this is not–

“Are you leaving or are you arriving?”

A voice speaks, startling you to your very core. You look up and feel extremely relieved upon realising that this man happens to be someone who’s completely unknown to you.

“Well as of now, I’m stuck,” you trail off, hoping that the guy would catch the hint and help you.

Thankfully, he does.

He gathers a couple bricks that were laying around and tip toes on them for his hands to reach the wired fence. Despite not being able to see how the wire has gotten stuck in your shirt, his hand somehow still manages to do the job smoothly.

Once you’re free, you’re quick to get down. Dusting off your clothes, you pick your bags up. “Thank you, for helping me.”

“Considering that you got down on this side of the wall, I’m going to assume that you’re leaving.” He observes.

You look at him for a moment and then nod. “Yes, I am.”

“Do you need help with the bags?”

A smile appears on your lips at his words, as you think this guy is a little too nice for his own good. “Sure, that’d actually be helpful!”

Nodding he bends down to pick up the bags. He’s surprised when he realises how heavy your luggage actually is. “Damn, these are heavy.”

“I know,” you glance at your watch. “Let’s get going.”

It takes him a split second to process as you start walking immediately after the words are out of your mouth, without so much of a second glance at him. Your quick movements make him trail behind you, as you make your way through the playground which connects to the main road.

Having given up on catching up with you, he looks around and sees a bunch of kids playing football on one side of the ground. While the other side remains occupied with kids playing cricket. The scoreboard catches his attention as it reads “6 required from 3 balls”. That’s intense, he thinks.

His eyes remain fixed on the match as his feet continue to move. The bowler bowls and he watches with excitement as the batsman flicks it for a single. As the strike rotates, the scoreboard now changes to “5 required from 2 balls”.

The second last delivery of the match and much to his surprise, it’s a full toss. The ball connects right to the centre of the bat and goes straight in the air. His eyes follow the ball and he watches with a bated breath as he waits for it to be either a six or a four.

His jaw drops open, when the ball is caught–by you. You aim the ball straight at the stumps and before the runner can reach the crease, the ball hits the wickets, dismissing the bails.

“OUT!”

A unanimous shout breaks out, celebrating the wicket. The tension breaks as the match is now in favour of the defending side.

Suddenly, the bags aren’t as heavy as they were moments ago and he rushes to catch up with you. “That was such a cool throw.”

“Thanks,” you shoot him a smile.

“Do you play cricket?” He queries, his eyes shining bright with excitement.

“I once used to. Nowadays, I don’t really get the time to play.” You shrug. “I love watching cricket though.”

“Did you watch yesterday’s match?” His excitement heightens.

“No I didn’t, but I did watch the highlights.”

“You missed one of the greatest matches of all times,” he shakes his head, emphasising his point with a dreamy smile on his face.

“I just don’t like watching ODIs,” you comment. “I think cricket matches should be of twenty overs. Four hours and the match is done.”

“I mean sure, T20Is are good, they are explosive in nature,” he agrees. “But nothing beats the longer formats of cricket.”

“Well, i am yet to get the hang of them,” you muse. “Maybe someday, I will get the hang of ODIs.”

“Maybe a India VS Australia match would do it for you.”

“Oh! I live for the sledging in India-Australia matches.”

“But then, the real spirit of cricket is in test matches! Five long days for one match and yet the match might be a tie. It really does test a man’s patience,” he speaks, his hands moving animatedly with each word. “Maybe that’s why they are called test matches, you know?”

“Kudos to the players playing these matches, because I do not have the patience to watch a test match. Can’t imagine playing it.”

“You should try watching a good bilateral series sometime, I bet you’ll like it.”

“Oh, I have definitely tried watching test matches before and I remember in half an hour, the scoreboard changed from 243 to 245. That was pretty much it for me.”

Your words cause him to cackle. “Maybe someday, you’ll realise the beauty of test matches, who knows?”

“Maybe. Someday.”

A brief moment of silence falls between the both of you.

“Who’s your favourite player, right now?”

“Has to be Steve Smith!” You claim proudly, without a second thought.

“Dude has got a bright future in cricket, that’s for sure.”

“I love how smoothly he hits those shots. It’s a treat watching him,” you add, your admiration for the young player visible in your eyes.

He hums and lets the conversation die as you both approach the main road, which is from where he assumes you’re about to take some vehicle to continue the rest of your journey. His assumption is proved right when you start waving at a taxi approaching towards the both of you.

“Airport?” You ask and upon receiving a nod from the driver, you start loading your luggage in the car. Once everything is settled, you get in as well. Locking in the door, you wave at him and ask the driver to get going.

He watches as the taxi sets to motion with a small lingering smile on his face. He is about to turn around and leave when the car stops and you poke your head out of the window.

“You want to tag along?” You ask loudly to be heard through the newly made distance between the both of you.

He is bewildered on hearing your words. “But the wedding---,” he points in the direction where the wedding ceremony is being performed, instead of completing his sentence.

“Are you the one who's getting married?” You answer with another question.

“No,” he shakes his head, eyes wide with confusion. How on earth are you saying this so casually?

“Then come along.”

He cannot see the whole of your body as only a portion of it remains poking out of the window and he has only known you for a very brief moment, but for some unknown reason he feels so sure that you must have shrugged as you said those words. And for some odd reason, with how casually you’re treating the situation, he feels the oddness of the situation fade.

“I cannot just leave the wedding like that,” he replies.

“Okay, then. Have fun.”

You do not sound disappointed at all. You sound just as casual, he thinks.

“Have a safe journey,” he yells, as you retreat back inside the car.

A faint, i will, thank you, greet his ears and he shakes his head to himself. You are something, he thinks with that same smile as he heads back to the wedding.

“Dude, I met a 8.5 outside!” He tells his friend the moment he’s within earshot.

His friend doesn’t look at him as his gaze remains fixed somewhere else. “Forget about an 8.5. Look there, there’s a literal 10 right in front of your eyes.”

He follows his friend’s gaze and it leads him to one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen, in his entire life. A ten indeed.

“Wow.” The breathless one word sentence escapes his lips without his permission.

His friend smirks at the reaction. “She’s the bride’s sister. She’s a model but is soon going to feature in some short films.”

The words barely register in his head as the girl locks eyes with him. Maybe he wasn’t discreet with his gawking, after all. What absolutely leaves him speechless, however, is when the girl gives him a shy smile.

The interaction isn’t missed by his friend as he whistles slowly, before murmuring, “Here’s to hoping you’re smart enough to understand what that smile means.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook smut #Jungkook au #Jungkook ff #Jungkook scenarios #Jungkook series #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jungkook bts #Angst #Fluff #Smut #Fic: hey

328 notes · View notes

elodieunderglass · 6 days ago

Text

terms that are (probably) from horse racing

(Annie G, by Eadweard Muybridge.)

Press keep reading to continue

Fall at the first fence / fail at the last hurdle - fences, hurdles and their positions to be used interchangeably. Fences and hurdles are obstacles in steeplechasing.

Handicap (in the sense of equalising across different abilities) - a handicap in horse racing is the practice of balancing conditions based on horse performance. A handicap race includes horses of varying strengths and experiences. Horses are assigned more or less weight to carry based on their stats.

Take in your stride - (doing something without hesitation /accepting change) jumping a barrier without changing your gait or approach (breaking stride). Managing a horse’s stride for them (so they don’t add a half stride, or fall short) is an important skill for jumping things.

Ros Canter and Lordships Graffalo in a cross-country trial taking a jump in stride.

(Without) Breaking stride - see above

Jockeying for position - fairly obvious, competing for the best position.

Dark horse - slightly folkloric, but meaning a stranger bringing an unknown (but very skilled) horse to a race, throwing off the betting as nobody will know how to predict its performance.

All bets are off - the bookies have stopped taking bets / irregularity in the race means it’s invalid for betting and you get your money back.

Start from scratch (starting from the beginning) - possibly comes from when a starting line is just a scratch in the turf; still seen on courses without starting gates. It looks like a depressed line in the grass.

Bring up to scratch / not up to scratch - got your horse to, or couldn’t get your horse to, the scratched starting line (above).

Chomping / champing at the bit - excited horses who know what’s up, mouthing at the bit of their bridles, wondering if they can tug the brakes/steering out of the rider’s hands so they can GO. Chomping is fine to use, but implies chewing; champing as a verb for horses working the bit is slightly more correct here! Do you remember the riddle about “thirty white horses on a red hill / first they champ, then they tramp, then they stand still”?

Home stretch / home straight - the end portion of the track coming up to the finish line, usually near the starting line on an oval track. the most exciting bits (start and finish) occur at “home,” this point of the track. Also the most expensive seats!

(Winning) hands down - an equestrian’s hands normally hold the reins in close contact, with more intensity being obvious in the hand gesture. Relaxing your hands to the horse’s neck is a signal that you are ceding some control, and they can relax too. A jockey winning with their hands down means the horse was so clearly and comfortably winning that they could afford a little treat of dropping gears early.

Run for your money - people betting on horse races are paying for the entertainment and excitement; they want a run for their money. Used today where something makes a battle of wills a bit exciting; where the outcome was a bit of a challenge; where you did your best in a competition even if you lost, or won by a narrow margin. It was a good run for the money!

Give and take - meaning to compromise. “Give and take” races are a bit like handicaps; I don’t quite understand them myself

Leg up - (giving someone a boost) how you chuck a rider onto any mount, but especially a jockey onto a horse. The horse’s head should be held by someone else, and normally a second person on the ground does the legging. It is a blink-and-you-miss-it motion with experienced people. It interests me a lot actually because there are slightly negative connotations about it metaphorically, as if needing help to get started is bad. But look!

William Buick getting a leg up.

To be completely accurate, a leg up is only an assist, for a person too short to make a pure jump safely/comfortably for the horse! The person getting the leg up is already jumping and doing lots of the work themselves, as Frankie shows here.

They’re also using their muscles to make sure they aren’t landing heavily on the horse’s back, but instead settling lightly like a floating petal 😌

And so what if there are people who don’t need one! Do YOU have legs as long as a horse’s?

…Jonjo’s so fucking tall.

In conclusion, there’s no shame in getting a leg up in life! You’re also helping yourself, it’s safer for the horse, it takes some skill to stick the landing, and we can’t all be TALL like JONJO.

Hard going / easy going - The Going refers to track conditions, which are a bit like the Beaufort wind scale.

Running mate (political) - a horse owner has a really excellent horse, which has been trained up alongside a less good companion horse, that they also own. The horse owner runs both horses in the same race. The companion horse sets the pace, and provokes a good performance from the faster horse. Sometimes in training a running mate is a poor sucker that the faster horse loves, but is always made to lose, building the fast horse’s confidence and training them on when to take the lead! (Incidentally, both jockeys also have to be trained or at least instructed together to best use this strategy, as the horses have no idea why they actually have a running mate.)

Weigh in (to give your opinion on a topic) - referring to jockeys weighing in before a race, which predate prize fighters, athletes who also weigh before competition.

Across the board - meaning full coverage. If you really believe in a horse, you might bet across the board - betting it will win first, second AND third place.

In the running / out of the running - The Running are the horses who are running.

Also-ran - horses in a race that… also ran. (And didn’t win anything)

Beat a dead horse - :(

Front runner - a horse in front 👍

Down to the wire - at one point in horse racing history a wire would be stretched across the finish line - the first horse to hit the wire triggering a camera to take a photo certifying the winner. A race down to the wire is a very tight margin.

Neck and neck - horses racing alongside each other with their necks at the same level.

(Win) by a nose, by a whisker, etc - the horse with the most forward body part wins, even if it’s a whisker. Since horses stretch their necks out and pull them in while running, a horse can win by sticking their neck out a bit at exactly the right moment, leading to a “win on the nose.” Horses do not comprehend this, and this method of winning was really confusing before the invention of photography, and subsequently the rapid invention of the photo finish.

On the nose (see above) - I think since “win on the nose” meaning “bang on” is a recorded description of this usage, that a racehorse’s actual nose is probably where it comes from, but couldn’t find anything about it.

Get your goat (apocryphal) - may refer to the practice of giving an anxious racehorse an emotional support goat, and therefore the idea of stealing a rival’s goat to harm a horse’s performance. But it’s hard to find much on this and probably isn’t true.

Jockey underwear - I almost forgot! Jockeys are often men, often with certain loose tackle, who bounce on it ride horsies all day, and importantly: they ride out in front of god and everybody in fucking transparent white breeches with sheer pantyhose underneath and, ideally, tight WHITE underwear. The Jockey brand capitalises on historical associations of athleticism, courage and masculinity, while offering tight white briefs that keep you contained and don’t show in your racing breeches. Thus: jockey and the tighty whitey.

Interestingly, “jock” as “athlete” (opposite of nerd) comes from “jock strap,” a completely different athlete/underwear etymology.

#jockeyposting 🏇

246 notes · View notes

crooked-wasteland · 22 days ago

Note

I've seen your tweet which criticizes the worldbuilding in Helluva Boss and how the Goetias feel like "Hollywood with royal titles" rather than true aristocracy, and I would like you to elaborate on that, if that's OK.

Thank you so much for this ask as I never got to expand on this point at the time. For those not in the know, the user is referencing this exchange on Twitter.

As much as the elites of our world would like to disperse the truth, the reality is that all societies are constructed around power. Who has power, how and why. That is the fundamental basis of every social dynamic from children on a playground to the politicians in our governments. So the very first thing we should even approach in regards to the narrative is how does power work in this universe?

So when I responded to Elcee in the tweet being referenced, I am evaluating power and power structures. Mainly there are two wholly different constructs of power between something like the aristocracy and celebrities.

The closest thing to an aristocracy we have in our modern day are the financial oligarchs of Capitalism. Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Bill Gates, etc. They have control everything from how our political parties engage with us to how we think based on the wealth they were born into. They curate our lives behind the scenes in ways that sound worthy of a tinfoil hat, but isn't a conspiracy. The wealthy were threatened in the 1970s by an educated proletariate. In response to our questioning the Vietnam war, the higher education that was once free or at least extremely affordable suddenly became prohibitively expensive.

So much so that only the financial aristocracy could access it. Whereas working class individuals are forced to jump through hoops and prove themselves suitably subservient to the existing power of the oligarchy in the form of scholarship applications, teacher recommendations and application letters before being granted access. This is not a mistake or how it's always been, this is by design.

Meanwhile, Celebrities are not elites. While we think of celebrities as being overpaid and living in luxury, it only takes a glance over at Chappell Roan to see the difference. When Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk or any large corporate CEO walks the red carpet, they are treated as royalty. When celebrities walk the red carpet, they are commodities.

Celebrity is the modern day face of the American Dream. Gone are the days of a single family home and a white picket fence. The boom of content over art, luxury over practicality, and excess over comfort is directly the result of selling to the world the idea of capitalistic success, which just amounts to perpetuating the system of turning humans into money. And for as much money as these celebrities make, it has been proven over and over again that they are just as susceptible to poverty as any other working class individual.

Celebrities are products we buy, and when we stop buying them, they vanish.

Meanwhile the aristocracy, the financial oligarchy, thrives in obscurity.

The difference in power is about who still has it when we no longer see them. And the more invisible and pervasive it is, the more real it is. However one as an individual thinks about the celebrity class, they are simple a different type of specialized tool to the true power behind the scenes.

With that differential in mind, the Goetia function more like celebrities rather than CEOs, and while Elcee fails to see the bigger picture, that subliminally tells the audience that someone with the title of prince, with armies sworn to his allegiance and infinite cosmic power, is no different than a working class joe.

This isn't intentional propaganda, however. It's not her trying to further the agendas of Jeff Bezos intentionally. Just like my other post covering how Medrano tries to excuse cheating, not realizing the only time one can argue such a blanket concept of forgiveness for such a betrayal can only happen when the option of choice is non-existent (ie Divorce is not on the table for reasons outside of the characters’ choices), this is the danger of not engaging with media with your mind turned on. You will innately, no matter how careful someone tries to be, engage with the material through the eyes of the creator.

Celebrities and average people are the same: commodities in the face of real power. But Medrano cannot tell the difference between someone like Elon Musk and his employees. She sees the aristocracy, the ones who were born into a legacy of wealth, as “hardworking average folks”. And if you aren't thinking, you might find yourself implicitly believing that too. Deeper entrenching the power they have over you as an individual and society as a whole.

How we got to where we are in our real lives is mirrored in the media we consume. And that isn't an accident.

#ask and answer #power structures #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop critique #vivziepop criticism #elcee is such a tool

84 notes · View notes

kiapet2 · 4 months ago

Text

I find Relativity Falls au's that switch Pacifica with Fiddleford fascinating, mainly because Pacifica as a character is very defined by being upper class, while Fiddleford is very defined by being lower class. Now you could just ignore this and give Fiddleford's story to Pacifica wholesale, being a homeless "hillbilly" included, but that feels like a waste of potential. Here's how I'd write it:

Everyone in Gravity Falls knows that Northwest Manor is haunted. The older folks in town say there used to be galas and other events held there, but thirty years ago the gates were locked closed, household staff reduced to a skeleton crew, and no one has been allowed in or out since. In the ensuing years the house has fallen into disrepair and the grounds into an overgrown mess. Rumors say that a witch lives there, that at night you can see strange lights and hear weird noises that can only have come from Old Lady Northwest herself. Children dare each other to climb the fence and ding-dong ditch the front doors, which is probably how Stanley and Stanford end up meeting Pacifica for real.

For Pacifica's part, she still met Dipper at Backupsmore (or wherever he went to college), not because her family couldn't afford somewhere else but because her parents refused to pay for anything but a business degree, and no school would offer financial aid to someone of her income level. Pacifica is how Dipper found out about Gravity Falls in the first place, and in addition to whatever technical know-how she has, she also contributed a deep knowledge of the town's history, as well as a lot of her family's money to the portal project, to her later regret.

If modern-day Pacifica has a kid like Fiddleford, they're probably running as much damage control with the town as they can while trying to keep her out of the public eye as much as possible. I'm thinking a classic gothic horror locking-the-crazy-relative-in-the-attic situation, though of course she has her ways of slipping out. At the end they still sell Northwest Manor and move to a much smaller house, where they're able to start building a better relationship with each other.

Just. Mad scientist old lady Pacifica who lives in a haunted mansion. You see the vision.

#gravity falls #relativity falls #pacifica northwest #fiddleford hadron mcgucket

134 notes · View notes

ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 5 months ago

Text

Stone Heart AU: Scar pt I

As much as Yuu tried, she still ended up in trouble in trouble sometimes. Be it with Ace and Deuce, or just running late from acting as Crowley’s unofficial gopher, it was something. The punishments usually weren't that bad though, sometimes even relaxing.

Like right now, it was a little bit of a trip down memory lane as she scrubbed the statues down on Main Street. It was odd, having the dreams that she did that painted the Great 7 in shadows instead of light, but it felt...right. Balanced.

A story about a maid who would be going to a ball was the current dream cycle, though she didn’t get the feeling this one was going to relate to any upcoming overblots. While they didn’t happen as often, she occasionally just dreamt of things like this. While there was a lot to ruminate over, like the stepmother and Professor Trien, right now it was just a catchy little song sung by the fairy stuck in her head.

“Put it together-” The King of Beasts statue wasn’t in bad shape at least, “and what do you got-” Just had to get the moss out of his eye, “Bippity Boppity Boo!”

The eye blazed green, cracking open with a clap of thunder!

Yuu fell, catching herself with her hands. Shit! Did she break it? Damnit, she couldn’t afford-

Wait. It looked fine. Just a wet statue.

“Maybe I just need to finish this up.” She muttered. “Lack of sleep must be getting to me.”

The atmosphere had changed, the tension of a storm about to break open. As she finished the King of Beasts, she clocked her progress and ran, feeling like eyes followed her until she turned the corner.

Malleus must be in a mood, she thinks, watching the dark clouds forming and the green smoke that seems to be spilling out the fence of Ramshackle. It isn’t the right shade of green though, more muted and not as...saturated? The gate creeks ominously and it doesn’t take her long to notice the figure sitting on the porch of Ramshackle.

He is hunched over, a shawl tossed over his head that was once bright with color and design, now faded to grays, browns and darker reds like blood. His left eye is as green as the Diasomnia mage crystals, clear and unclouded, and the right faded as the green smoke around him. A gnarled staff is gripped in his hands, a gourd tied to the top with a handful of what might be rib bones along with some sort of dried fruit she thinks.

This isn’t a harmless man, her instincts can say that much, but...he doesn’t feel like a threat. He could be. He’s choosing not to.

“How can I help you?” Yuu asks, getting a bit closer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you a teacher here?”

He chuckles, making the pointed beard shake, but it’s not cruel. “I suppose that depends on you. I think you are in need of a teacher. And I am in need of a place to stay.”

“What do I need to learn?”

“Magic.”

“Ha!” Yuu can’t help it, barking a laugh. “You are mistaken. I have no magic of my own.”

“No, cub, you have magic, just not Wonderland magic. You have the Old magic, older even than General Lilia, the same as I. These teachers cannot help you, but I can.”

He removes the shawl’s hood from his face, revealing a pair of brown lion ears and a mane that puts Yuu’s hair to shame. Even braided in parts to keep it out of his face, the long black hair stretches all the way down to his curved spine. A tail thumps against the dusty steps,

“Afterall, you freed me, didn’t you?”

It takes some explaining, a quick meal shared on her dining room table that feels even more rundown than usual with actual royalty sitting down. Thank the Seven that Grim was asleep beforehand, his new Spelldrive practices tiring him out in the evenings.

“So, are the others...the same? Petrified?”

“Yes, though you aren’t ready to free us all just yet. I was an accident, correct?”

She flinches, nodding. “I mean, I guess? Sometimes I have dreams. Alternate tellings of the stories around here it feels like, or added details? Most of the time they follow an Overblot, but this one just felt like a non-threatening one. I don’t have these as often.”

“Precognition is a dangerous magic, especially with no guiding tools.”

“I dont know if-”

“You dreamt of mine, did you not? Leona Kingscholar? The Phantom still was a part of me, drawn from my form and magic.”

Yuu blinked, shrugging. “I mean, it didn’t stop it.”

“No, but you were more prepared. You were willing and ready to accept Leona’s trauma and show compassion because you witnessed me make the exact follies and look at how that ended.” he huffed, taking a sip from his water.

She hadn’t considered that really. It just felt natural, to show them kindness after all of it. But they were alike. Really alike. And the actions Leona had taken paralleled his perfectly.

“Do you think if somebody had done so with you, you would have listened?”

“Oh cub!” He laughed, and this one felt harsher. “I would not have. I was far too hardened. But Leona...he will be better.”

“Well, I better try and at least get a bed ready for you.” She said, taking both of their dishes. “What do I call you though? King of Beasts is a bit of a mouthful.”

He tilts his head, as if considering. She gets the dishes loaded and leftovers put away before he finally answers.

“Taka. My Mother’s Son.” he says. “That’s who I wish to be now.”

Yuu smiles, sticking out her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Professor Taka! I look forward to learning from you.”

For just a moment, he sees Simba, and Nuka and Kovu and Vitani. He sees Shenzi, Banzai and Ed. He sees naive and friendly and believes in him, for as little he has to offer, and still finds him worthy.

He shakes her hand and hangs his stone heart to air out.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Twst Yuu #Disney twst #twst wonderland #twst The Great 7 #twst great 7 #Stone Heart AU #I have been consumed now you have to deal with this for a minute

128 notes · View notes

helluvaoutlaw · 20 days ago

Text

Cowboy In Distress

(closed RP thread for @second-wife-playbook )

–––

Striker gritted his teeth, every step a battle against the agony searing through his body. The flames had done their work well: his skin burned raw, his clothes tattered, and the acrid stench of charred flesh clung to him like a curse. Every muscle screamed, but he refused to stop.

The alleys of Pride twisted around him like a labyrinth of filth and shadows.

He clung to the walls, using them for support as he dragged himself forward, his tail curled close to his body, too scorched to be of use. The neon glow of the district barely reached these backstreets, leaving him swallowed in darkness, a wounded predator slinking away to lick his wounds.

Blitzø. That damn sonuvabitch.

Again.

The rage bubbled beneath the pain, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

Not now.

Not when he needed somewhere safe. Somewhere hidden. Somewhere only one person knew about.

Cori’s secret garden.

The memory was a lifeline. An overgrown, forgotten corner of an abandoned park. The only place in Pride where Striker could breathe without feeling the weight of the city pressing down on him. A place that smelled of earth, not smog, where vines crept over rusted iron fences, and wildflowers bloomed despite the filth of the Ring.

He could make it. He had to.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he forced himself forward, every inch of his body screaming in protest. He wasn’t sure how long he crawled, how many times he nearly collapsed, but when he finally reached the cracked stone path leading into the forgotten park, his vision blurred with relief.

The gate was still broken, still half-buried under ivy and thorns. With the last of his strength, he pushed through, staggering until his knees gave out. The cool earth welcomed him as he collapsed onto his back, staring up at the swirling red sky above.

Safe.

For now.

#helluva outlaw #second wife playbook #striker #coronis #before their marriage #helluva boss #post Oops

21 notes · View notes

sassypantsjaxon · 9 months ago

Text

Okay, quick disclaimers: 1. I know some people don't like Horikoshi's worldbuilding, would say there's a lack of depth, etc, etc. I'm not one of those people, I just see it as my chance to overanalyze and fill in the gaps myself for these kind of headcanon/theory/whatever you want to call this post. 2. This post will briefly touch on my own personal headcanons of Mic being an orphan and Aizawa being a rich kid.

Okay! all that being said, I'm just going to throw some things at the wall about my own thoughts/headcanons about the world Mic and Aizawa grew up in, and you guys can let me know if anything sticks.

You ever think about how All Might is around 25 years older than Mic and Aizawa?

Given that he left Japan as a teenager and went to college in America, he probably came back and started becoming the Symbol of Peace in Japan in his early-mid twenties.

Mic and Aizawa would have been part of the first generation of kids who have never known a world without All Might

Like. Think about that. They would have grown up in a world that is just beginning to recover from the horrors (as compared to the relatively deceptively safe society we see at the beginning of the series)

Hizashi grows up in an orphanage with a lot of older kids who were orphaned by villain attacks and...not so many kids younger than him. Which is good for them, but kind of lonely for a kid like Zashi

There's a wall around the orphanage that is supposed to be for protecting them, but as villain activity decreases, it just starts to feel like it's keeping the kids in

Hizashi becomes a hero because he knows nobody else is going to save him

Shouta grows up in a high security gated community

He's always wanted to be a hero, and he's always been told it's pointless, because All Might will have eradicated villainy by the time Shouta's an adult this is of course a lie

part of the tragedy of Oboro's death is that they've heard their whole lives how large scale villain attacks like that are a thing of the past

They would have had drills for what to do in case of villain attacks when they were little kids starting school. These would have slowly been phased out by the time they were in middle school

Another thing that's changed since they were kids is the architecture

No more burned down, bombed out buildings that just sit around because there's no point rebuilding something that will just be destroyed again in a few weeks. No more business that are still open, but the windows are boarded up because they can't afford to keep replacing the glass

No more graffitied walls and fences and gates. No more anti-villain spikes on top of buildings and around cities

And all of these things disappeared so slowly that it's like one day when they're in highschool, they just look around and realize they don't exist anymore and wonder where it all went and when it happened

There was probably a population boom as All Might started to cement his place as the Symbol of Peace. People realizing their kids would have a safer world to grow up in and they didn't have to fear dying every other minute

People moving out of the safety of the cities back into more rural areas

actually hang on. that would kind of explain the racism and bigotry we know exists in the rural regions

this was supposed to be more about mic and aizawa and now i'm just spitballing worldbuilding sorry.

Mic and Aizawa are kind of in this weird inbetween of the fourth generation of quirk users, who grew up fully in the horrors of quirk wars, and the fifth generation, who grew up in the era of All Might and it's all just the past to them

Because even though they didn't exactly live it themselves, they did still see the direct effects of it

And that's the horror of this new war, because their students had been living the peace Mic and Aizawa were promised as children

#this is the thing i promised a few days ago because i just wonder about it y'know?#bnha #my hero academia #eraserhead #present mic #all might #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #yagi toshinori #i don't know. let me know your thoughts on the world of bnha i guess?

96 notes · View notes

tumbleweed-writes · 9 months ago

Text

Scorned: Chibs Telford X Reader. Chapter Two

PREVIOUS CHAPTER HERE

========

Chibs was still seething by the time he made it back to the Sons clubhouse. He had taken a long ride after confronting Jarry, hoping that the long ride could clear his brain and soothe the dreadful sense of anxiety that had settled down into his belly.

He found though that he still felt just as keyed up as he’d been when he’d left the local police department. If anything he found that he felt more irritable as the day had gone on and his mind had longer to stew on the situation with his ex fling and his current love.

He barely acknowledged Tig, barely giving his vice president a tight nod, as he rounded the corner of the service counter that had once served ice cream and other novelty treats.

The service counter now served as a makeshift bar of sorts, glasses, pitchers, and bottles of liquor being stored under the cabinet and bottles of beer resting in the mini fridge that had been purchased.

It was not the most sophisticated setup and it was certainly nothing compared to the bar that had rested at the old Sons clubhouse at TM Auto, but it worked for their current needs.

That could be said about most of the features of their current clubhouse. It fit for their current needs but they were unsure if it would be where their clubhouse would remain.

The space did not feel as secure as the Sons old compound out at TM. The old storefront honestly felt as though it was a little too public facing though the line of shops the building resided on was not the most active.

Jacob Hale had bought out most of the shopspace when he had hopes of building a high end condo on the property. That dream of course had been shot down partially thanks to SAMCRO’s involvement in making sure that plans for development did not go through.

The retail and living spaces had been left empty for years, Hale finding that he was unable to unload them for a price that might cause him to break even.

A few businesses had moved into the spaces but the area still felt less than developed.

That didn’t mean that more businesses might come though.

Chibs couldn’t help but to think that perhaps SAMCROs clubhouse needed to be in a more secure feeling location where the public was less likely to gaze upon it so easily.

At least the old clubhouse had felt separate from the Sons legit business at the auto mechanic shop. The old clubhouse had the ability to be gated off with the fence surrounding TM Auto and the clubhouse lot. It had made things feel more protected in times of lockdowns and had given a sense of privacy.

Privacy was not something SAMCRO could financially afford at the moment though. They were barely out of the red with RedWoody Productions. There had been some side work doing protection runs for a few trucking companies and a couple of other side jobs involving bodyguard gigs. The club was just scraping by though.

Chibs had hopes that perhaps when the club found themselves enough out of the red that they might be able to look for a more permanent home that felt less open to the public. He had also considered perhaps buying Hale out and buying a few of the properties beside Scoops and Sweets. They could surely find a way to construct some sort of massive clubhouse that felt a little more secure with more buildings and the right construction crew.

It was just a pipedream at this point though the club not quite having the money to invest in that kind of project at the moment.

They had at least finally painted over the Scoops and Sweets signs hanging over their awning and the ice cream and candy signs on the sides of the entrance making it look less inviting to anyone who was unaware that this building no longer was an innocent ice cream parlor.

A club hangaround had even offered to paint a Sons Reaper somewhere on the building, but Chibs and the man were still negotiating just what the idea would entail.

Chibs could admit he was at a loss as to what to do with the building.

His brothers and he had done their best to make the space feel less like an old retail space and more like their clubhouse but it was a slow work in progress.

A few Friday night parties had at least managed to happen in the smaller space making it feel more like home as time had gone on.

Chibs said nothing as he opened the cabinet below him, finding a shot glass and a bottle of Jameson.

Tig watched as Chibs poured a far too full shot, taking it down before following it up with another in quick succession.

He dared to speak spotting the tension rolling off his club Pres. “You good brother?”

Chibs gritted his jaw there being a million things he wanted to say to describe how he felt at the moment but he only found one statement that perfectly encapsulated how he felt.

“Ye ever felt like yer past was comin up tryin to fuck over yer future?”

“More often than you know. What’s this about? Everything quiet with the Irish?” Tig dared to ask jumping to the most logical conclusion about just what Chibs’ past pertained to.

Chibs sighed, taking another shot almost wishing it was that simple. He would almost rather deal with the True IRA than whatever shit Sheriff Jarry was attempting to pull.

He let out another sigh shaking his head. “Aye, not heard a word from em in a long while.”

He paused the venom clear in his voice as he spoke again explaining his issue. “Fuckin Sheriff Jarry’s been talkin to my ol lady, bringing up our past arrangement to Y/N. Stirring up shite.”

Tig let out a heavy huff, his jaw tensing at the comment. He shook his head quick to ask. “What game do you think she’s playing here? It’s been almost over a year since you two ended that little arrangement. You think she’s playing the long game, trying to prod an ol lady to say the wrong thing so she can go after SAMCRO?”

Chibs shifted the bottle of Jameson in his hand thinking about just drinking straight from the bottle at this point but quickly decided against it. “I don’t know. I almos hope it’s that simple. I can’t shake the fuckin feelin its more personal than that though. Feels more like she’s got it out fer me fer endin shite with her. She left town pretty soon after Jackie Boy…after shite ended.”

Chibs paused his throat growing tight at the mention of his fallen brother and the sacrifice that had been made.

He took a deep breath speaking again. “Feels more like she’s stirrin up shite to try to get rid of her competition. She was always fuckin push and pull with me. Didn’t want the reality of what bein with me was but was back and forth on if she wanted to end shite. She wanted me to make the choice fer her so she could be pissed no matter what fuckin choice I made. It was fuckin exhausting, shite felt draining. I couldn’t fuckin trust her. The sex was great, but the shite that went along with her was fuckin killin me. I’m the one who finally put an end to the back and forth bullshite. Part of me thinks she had hopes we’d rekindle shite between us at some point…that things would go back to the way they were, her feedin us intel and money bein exchanged…us fucking. I fuckin told her it was over when I ended it, told her we’d make her disappear if she got on SAMCRO’s wrong side. Me movin on and takin an ol lady is a sign that I meant what I said bout it bein over.”

He shook his head still glaring down at the bottle of Jameson. “Feels like Jarry either wants to push Y/N from me to knock her out of the way and force me back to her…or she jus wants to fuckin punish me fer movin on.”

Tig let out a heavy sigh shaking his head unable to stop himself from saying it. “Guess that’s why they say not to stick your dick in crazy.”

Chibs scoffed at the comment, a small pained chuckle leaving him. “Aye, think we’re both guilty of that shite.”

Tig gave him a slight nod raising his brows knowing Chibs had a point. He’d not always chosen the most stable of bedroom partners in the past.

Chibs continued to stare down at the bottle of Irish Whiskey, his head aching and his mind spinning.

He found himself fretting over just what Jarry’s game plan was here. He didn’t trust her. That had been one of the biggest issues in their time together; a lack of trust.

How could he trust anyone who wore a badge? Even if the badge was worn by a cop who was willing to play dirty?

He was certain she didn’t trust him either. He was a professed criminal so of course she had not trusted him.

She had spent the relationship pushing for him to give her more information about the activities of the Sons and truth about acts he denied them having any involvement with.

Chibs was unwilling to open that can of worms up with her though. He had the slightest feeling she could not entirely handle the truth with as back and forth and as flighty as she seemed.

She was constantly declaring that he was the worst choice for her romantically in one breath and insisting that she wanted him in the other breath.

She would goad him into being the bad guy and breaking things off with her and when he refused to make the choice for her she reacted with anger and spite.

It felt like mental chess and Chibs was too damn old for mind games.

To be honest he had found himself knowing that there was no real future between them; no reasonable one at least.

They could never be exactly open about their involvement. It wouldn’t look so innocent to have the local sheriff dating the known outlaw biker. The residents of Charming would kick Jarry right out of the job if there was any sort of normal courting situation.

The only option had been to be secretive and to maintain the exchange of information and cash between Jarry and SAMCRO as well as the secret sexual encounters between Chibs and Jarry.

Although the sex had been good and he had fun with Jarry when she was not so controlling and neurotic, Chibs had known that there was no chance of longevity in their odd pairing.

Althea Jarry was controlling, paranoid, indecisive, and at times erratic . She spent her time pushing his buttons and his patience until they both brought out the worst in one another.

Good sex and an exchange of intel for SAMCRO had not been worth the emotional turmoil Chibs felt that Jarry had brought with.

Tig finally spoke nodding to the bottle Chibs was still hyper focused on. “Venus and I can take Y/N out to lunch this weekend…see where her head is at, see if she feels threatened and reassure she’s got no reason to be. You know if Jarry pushed any buttons, Venus’ll know how to unjam em. You gotta talk to Y/N bout this though. Don’t know how much you told her about Jarry and you, but you gotta tell her everything. Prepare her for the worst and trust her to handle it.”

He paused quick to speak again. “You should get out of here. Get on over to Y/N’s place. Open up to her about this shit. Sitting here and trying to drown it in Jameson isn’t going to do you any favors.”

Chibs frowned, wanting to snark that Tig thought he was some kind of relationship expert now that he had a steady ol lady in Venus Van Dam.

He bit his tongue keeping the comment inward knowing lashing out at Tig for genuinely giving him some good advice was not ideal. He could admit to it being a surprise that this good advice came from such an unlikely source.

Chibs knew Tig had a point. Y/N would most likely alleviate his fears and anxieties or at the very least be willing to share the burden of them with him.

When Chibs had met Y/N he had still been reeling from how things had ended with Jarry.

The sheriff had taken a long sabbatical after the misery that had gone down with the fall of Jax Teller.

Chibs had been left struggling to pick up the pieces of the fractured club that was now his responsibility to lead. He had been left traumatized by loss and the horror of all that had happened.

To make matters feel more emotionally draining Fiona had decided to grant him a long awaited for divorce which meant that Chibs was coping with the fact that that chapter of his life was officially legally closed. It had been a closure that had left him both mourning what had been and feeling uncertain of what would be.

He had been sleep deprived, stressed, and emotionally drained when Venus Van Dam had casually brought up the cute little thing that had opened up an antique shop down the street from the Sons clubhouse.

Chibs had not thought much of the comment he having a million other things on his mind. He’d not even paid much mind to it when Tig had begun to go on little shopping trips with Venus down the street to this antique shop.

When Kerrianne’s birthday had rolled around and Chibs had been at a loss as what to buy her, Venus had suggested the shop.

He’d not walked into that shop expecting to fall in love, but it had hit him like a brick to the back of the head.

He was not a believer in love at first sight. He’d always firmly thought it was more of a case of lust at first sight.

There had been something there between Y/N and he upon their first interaction; a comfort he’d not known with many people.

He had realized that Venus had picked up on it quickly, spotting the look on his face when he’d returned with a purchased bracelet for his daughter and a look in his eyes that screamed infatuation.

Venus Van Dam was a hopeless romantic and had seemed to encourage the interactions between Chibs and Y/N mentioning the shop would be a good place to find items to furnish the clubhouse and make it feel more like home.

The visits to the shop had become frequent for Chibs and a friendship had grown.

When Venus had proudly announced that Y/N would be attending a Friday night party as her guest, Chibs had taken extra care into his appearance that night.

He’d spent the first hours of the party nursing a shot and keeping his eyes on the crowd searching for Venus and her guest.

When they’d entered the party he’d not had time to approach them as Venus had led Y/N right to him. He’d spent the vast majority of that party attempting to woo her.

Shots had been shared and Chibs had offered to teach her to play pool. A joint had been shared on the roof when the party had grown a little too full of debauchery.

He’d asked her on a date over a shared joint relieved that she had agreed to it.

They’d not looked back after that.

Y/N was someone he could trust. There was no push with her. It was all pull.

It was nothing like the pull he’d endured with Jarry. The pull from Jarry had always felt desperate, manipulative at times, starved, and frantic. Jarry had always pulled him back to her in ways that were steeped with panic, lust, and at times rage.

He’d lost count of the amount of times he had found himself pulled back towards Jarry after a at times physical altercation between the pair they winding up practically hate fucking.

The pull to Jarry always felt tinged with something rotten and unstable.

The pull towards Y/N felt comforting. He could best describe it as a sense of warmth and security. The pull towards her felt healing after all the pain and loss he’d endured. It felt peaceful. The pull towards her felt loving and accepting. He felt like he had found some sense of serenity.

He felt his stomach turn fearing that Jarry was hoping to taint that sense of peace.

Chibs pushed back the bottle of Jameson making a silent promise to himself that he would not allow his past to taint his future.

He refused to let Jarry take this away from him.

—-------------------------------

Their clothing lay strewn across her living room and down her hallway long forgotten.

Chibs had come to her apartment intending to be mature and talk this out with her. His lips had met hers the second she’d opened the door though and talking had been forgotten for more pleasurable activities.

Y/N laid by his side they both nude resting under her bedsheets the AC flipping on making the room cooler than necessary.

She stared up at Chibs as he sat by her side, a magazine resting in his lap with rolling papers and a familiar baggie.

She spoke, rolling her eyes ever so slightly. “Don’t spill anything. I really don’t want to go through the hassle of trying to figure out how to get any bits of bud out of my bedsheets at this hour.”

“I’ve been rollin joints longer than ye been alive ye brat.” He remarked playfully, causing a soft laugh to leave her, she rolling her eyes again.

“Our age difference isn’t that massive.”

He smirked, shaking his head fast to point it out. “There’s at least a decade there, Love. Aint sayin more so I don’t feel too fuckin dirty bout it.”

She spoke a sigh leaving her as she watched him make the final moves on rolling the perfect joint. “You liked it when I called you a dirty old man that one time. You were pretty vocal about how much you liked it.”

“I liked that ye were riding my cock and I was sayin so much filthy shite cause I was pussy drunk, Love. We are amazing at sayin filthy sinful shite in the moment. Pretty sure we established after our first time that we are both suckers for dirty talk.” He pointed out a snicker leaving his lips as he placed the magazine and baggie aside, finding a lighter and an ashtray she kept on the nightstand just for him.

She watched him place the joint between his lips and light it taking the initial first hit.

She reached out he passing it to her, allowing her to take her own drag from it.

They passed it back and forth silently for a long moment they both feeling the heavy relaxed sensation of a high wash over them. Chibs Telford always had the best pot. It was something she'd figured out quickly upon their first shared joint at that Friday night party months and months ago when he'd finally asked her on a date.

He finally put out the joint in the ashtray before he settled down back against her.

She snuggled close to him, his arms opening for her allowing her to rest her head against his chest.

The peaceful feeling didn’t last for long Y/N finally working up the nerve to say it. “Am I allowed to know the details about the history between you and the Bitch Sheriff and just why she’s pissed off enough to approach me about it?”

Chibs sighed knowing he had to follow Tig’s advice and be 100 percent open about it all. “Back when Jackie Boy was still…here…some shite went down with the former sheriff, man was murdered and a new sheriff came to town. Sheriff Jarry started sniffin round the club made it clear she was open to developing a profitable relationship with SAMCRO.”

“She’s a dirty cop?” Y/N asked decoding what he meant by a profitable relationship.

He sighed nodding his head as he spoke again. “She wasn’t jus interested in that though…she was interested in me.”

“So you dated?” She asked surprised by the information. She would have assumed that Chibs’ activities with SAMCRO would have made him wary of the cops.

Chibs sighed again, tempted to reach out and relight the joint to calm his nerves. “Not exactly…it wasn’ the mos traditional pairing, Love. We met traded intel fer cash…and we fucked. We developed a wee bit of a pattern; meetin up fer sex. Shite between us couldn’t be a fuckin normal relationship.”

“Would you have wanted it to be? Did you love her?” Y/N dared to ask a small frown crossing her features as she took in the information he’d just dropped in her lap.

Chibs sighed, rolling the question through his head before he spoke. “At times I thought I’d not mind it. There were wee moments of fondness. I might of started to fall fer her at times when things felt good, but shite was usually too destructive fer it to be love. I don't think it was love, at least fer me it wasn't…more often than not shite between us was fuckin toxic. We brought out nasty sides of each other…We fought a lot…not just verbal spats but there were a few physical fights. I always took pride in not bein the kind of lad that thinks it’s fair to hit a woman but she wasn’t afraid to hit me and I reacted in turn. We’d fight and fuck and never deal with the reality of what things were between us. It was exhausting and awful. So, no even if shite had been different and she wasn’t a cop, I don’t think I woulda wanted it to be a real relationship not fer long at least.”

He paused, relieved that she didn’t yank away from him at the mention of physical altercations. It was not something he was proud of. “She never could fuckin accept that shite between us was complicated. I wasn’ goin to leave SAMCRO and she wasn’ goin to stop bein a fuckin cop. We never could trust each other given our business arrangement. I couldn’t fuckin tell her anyhing without fearin she’d use it agains the club. She wasn’t fuckin tellin me a thing unless she got cash in her hand. She was never fuckin satisfied with the reality of what we were. She couldn’t make up her mind bout if she wanted shite with me to continue or wanted me gone. She would try to push me away in one breath and yank me back in another.”

He frowned his stomach in knots fearing what her reaction might be to all of this information when he was done. “I didn't love her. Nothin between us was fuckin love. I was miserable and shite with her was too complicated and too stressful to keep goin on. I’m the one who made the final push. I told her it was over, I ended shite. Told her the truth, that I don’t love her, she’s a fuckin cop and I’m a fuckin outlaw. Told her what happens to cops who wind up on the wrong side of SAMCRO. Made sure she knew shite between us had to end. I ended the arrangement between SAMCRO and her and the shite between us the only way I knew how…by tellin her the truth.”

“Do you think she loved you? Do you think it was ever something more for her?” Y/N dared to ask, thinking of her interaction with Jarry. It had screamed jealousy and heartbreak.

Chibs let out a heavy sigh shaking his head. “Not sure, she wasn’ exactly open bout how she felt. Most of her talkin to me was pushin fer info bout the club or pushin my buttons with her mind games bout if she wanted to break up with me or not. The…pyhysical aspect of our relationship mighta been good, and she was fun when she wasn’t playing fuckin mind games with me. The good moments were rare though. I’m glad it's over and to be honest…I regret it happened. I won’t lie, Love…shite between her and me started with Jax wanting me to keep her in SAMCRO’s pocket. It wasn’t a foundation fer anything good.”

He cringed, almost certain she would tell him it was too much, almost sure she’d deem him as some asshole for the latter part of his admission about using sex to keep Jarry in SAMCRO’s pocket.

She let out a heavy sigh shaking her head. “Should I be worried about her? She was trying to intimidate me by bringing up how unsafe SAMCRO is. Then when that didn’t work… It felt like she was trying to swing her dick around…remind me that she had you first. She seems a little too interested in trying to start shit with me. Something tells me that having a fucking cop as my sworn enemy isn’t going to do me any favors especially considering who I’m dating.”

“Ye ain got nothin to worry bout. If she starts shite with ye, let me handle it.” Chibs insisted squeezing her a little closer to him, a protective tone entering his voice.

It was a feeling he was accustomed to having with her; protective.

She gave him a crooked smile fast to speak. “I will handle it before you do, trust me, Filip. I felt like she was going out of her way to almost…play some kind of juvenile mean girl game with me…I don’t like bullies. I can’t promise I won’t throw a punch before I call you if she ever tries to push my buttons again.”

He chuckled a somewhat proud smirk crossing his lips at the comment. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head daring to ask. “How are ye feelin bout…everything I just told ye?”

“We all have our pasts, Filip. I mean…we are both divorcees.” Y/N pointed out the comment making his stomach turn well aware of the history between his girlfriend and her ex husband.

It had come up pretty soon in their romantic relationship; the reason behind why Y/N had moved so much in the past decade and why she had considered even changing her last name.

He felt his stomach turn his mind more focused on the thoughts of her ex and the traumatic history there as she spoke again. “I think we both have crazy exes.”

She paused, not giving him long to focus on the comment as she spoke again. “At least I like your ex wife.”

He let out a huff still stunned that Fiona Larkin had taken an approving shine to Y/N.

The meeting had been forced as Kerrianne had wanted to visit her da in the states four months before and Fiona was wary even if Kerrianne was legally an adult now.

Chibs didn’t blame her given the seedy business SAMCRO was involved in with Redwoody and the danger that came with his world.

He had resisted the urge to argue that Fiona’s world with the True IRA was just as dangerous and had instead brought up the fact that his girlfriend had a normal safe job and would look out for Kerrianne if something came up.

Fiona had of course insisted that she must meet this girlfriend if she were to trust her child with her.

Chibs had resisted the urge to argue and be upset that she seemingly did not trust his judgment.

So, a facetime call had been set between Y/N and Fiona with Chibs nervously pacing outside the room after Fiona had insisted that he didn’t need to be hovering over the women as they talked.

He had been dumbfounded that the talk had gone well and Fiona had given Y/N such glowing praise. The two had developed a cordial and even friendly relationship given that it was becoming obvious that Y/N was here to stay and would be involved in Kerrianne’s life.

He spoke a huff leaving him at the comment. “Fuckin funny.”

Y/N gave him a crooked smile unable to stop herself from teasing him. “It’s true though, if you ever piss me off I’m packing my bags up and going to Belfast.”

He managed to give her backside a swat working a giggle from her as he spoke. “Aint fuckin losin ye to my ex wife. Even if I piss ye off I’m doin what it takes to keep ye around.”

She smiled at the comment, her lips pressing to his cheek recalling his earlier comment. “I’m not going anywhere, even if you are a dirty old man.”

He gave her backside another swat, his lips eagerly pressing to hers as he spoke. “Not too old to make ye moan my name.”

“I know, I do have a love for antiques though given my line of work.” She snarked back the comment earning her another kiss, he turning her over onto her back, his lips pressing to hers.

He moved over her with ease his lips pressing down her body. She let out a soft pleased sigh at the sensation. He spoke his lips soft against her skin the words leaving him. “Gonna show ye that I aint an antique yet.”

She let out a soft moan enjoying the press of his lips to her skin and the scratch of his facial hair against her. She had never had a more determined nor a more passionate lover than Chibs Telford.

All thoughts of Sheriff Jarry faded from Y/N’s mind as she soaked up the love Chibs gave her.

Y/N had no intention of letting anything nor anyone take the love Chibs showed her away.

#chibs telford #sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs sons of anarchy #Chibs Telford x reader #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Chibs Telford fanfic

60 notes · View notes

keijidragon17-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Sims 2 Monty Starter Houses!

I've been in the process of starting a fresh Veronaville save and as many people have pointed out: the disparity in number of affordable houses on the "Monty" side of town is ridiculous. Two mansions and an abandoned silo? None of these are even remotely affordable for Bianca or Antonio's family. Not to mention, any new Montys will have no choice but to settle on their sworn enemy's side of the river! What if you want some reasonable, base game, Monty-themed starter homes for your sims?

Welcome to my first attempt, you've come to the right post! Here are six base-game compatible builds themed after the Monty side of Veronaville. All have been playtested, run through clean installer, and checked for any mistakes.

The first three homes are affordable for sims with the given 20,000 simoleon budget, and the last three are slightly more upscale (ranging from 20,000 to 28,000) to try and bridge the gap between the larger mansions like 111 Stratford Street and 267 Avon Avenue. The lots are entirely compatible with base game and require no expansions or stuff packs, since I wanted them to easily blend in with the existing Monty architecture.

All lots are 2x2 for convenient placement, and many have enough empty space to expand upon as you wish. I personally would encourage the player to cluster them to match the Capp side of Veronaville (no self respecting Monty would let the Capps have a monopoly on real estate, right?).

Starter House 3/4 is designed for Bianca Monty, while Starter House 6 is designed for Antonio and his twins. They could also make do in Starter House 5, with some light modifications or creative bed placement.

Notes/Quirks:

You may notice Starter House 5 is lacking some doors to back outdoor verandas. This was done purely to keep the price low and the layout succinct, but you may add doors to them and they will not impact the front door placement (though sims may occasionally take an awkward route around the outside of the house).

Regarding Starter House 6, the gate in the back of the house is useless. Sims will not go through it due to the conveniently placed archways, and the gate was placed simply for effect. After numerous attempts and playtesting, I've found it's best to just leave it as is, or delete the gate the leave the fence lest you wish the Welcome Wagon wandering into your private courtyard.

I encourage modifications of these homes, as you deem necessary. I make no claims that they're perfect: after all, Maxis style builds are almost famous for their weird little quirks and slightly impractical design. Feel free to use these as start templates as well, if you prefer to change anything!

All houses path properly (i.e. deliveries and service sims use the archways/doors closest to the main pathways). No awkward deliveries for your sims, hurrah!

Due to Simsfileshare acting up, I wasn't able to upload the full set in one concise folder. For that, please use this link. Individual downloads are below, if you want only certain houses. Happy simming!

Monty House 1

Monty House 2

Monty House 3

Monty House 4

Monty House 5

Monty House 6

#sims 2 #veronaville #sims 2 builds #sims 2 starter homes #sims 2 monty #sims 2 base game compatible #sims 2 cc free #ts2 #thesims2

21 notes · View notes

ryuusgf · 19 days ago

Text

𝓗𝑶𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝓞𝑵 𝓨𝑶𝑼 — s. hinata, prologue. 𐚁 if i could make a livin’ from walkin’ in the woods, you can bet i’d be sittin’ pretty good — high on a hill, lookin’ at a field down wind.

℧ contents word count: 1,004. kindof vague. implied adhd! shoyo. shoyo is a good big brother. third person POV, but for shoyo. life of a farm kid. sassy! natsu. ooc! shoyo?

cattle tag 000: first chapter out, yay! i couldn’t decide if i wanted “authors note” or something to do with the country life, so i hope “cattle tag” makes sense to you guys…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The frustrated groan that leaves Shoyo’s mouth is one he’s grown familiar with after years of waking up early. He reaches a hand out, blindly feeling around for the plastic of his alarm clock for a moment, but inevitably gives up and peels his eyes open. He pushes the button and drops his head back down on his pillow. This is one of the few reasons he likes waking up so early—the sun hasn’t risen yet, leaving him to relish in the kind of darkness that he likes.

Eventually, he decides he doesn’t want to feel the wrath of his mother and he sits up, rubbing at his eyes groggily. It’s not that he doesn’t like waking up at the ass crack of dawn, it’s just . . . No, he hates it. He doesn’t understand why he has to do the chores everyday, and Natsu gets to wake up at a reasonable time. But, he swings the blanket off his legs, shivers, and stands up.

He goes through his normal routine quickly: brush his hair and teeth, throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that might be dirty, slip on his boots, and be as quiet as possible. His mom worked late last night—again—and he doesn’t want to wake her.

As he steps out onto the porch, he shivers. The air is a little chilly for a late-summer morning, but he doesn’t mind all too much. He can hear the distant clucking of chickens, the occasional bleat from the sheep, and it brings him a sense of calming.

Again, he goes through his routine as fast as possible: check the fences and gates, give the animals their feed, collect the eggs from the chicken coop, check the fences and gates, let the sheep and cow out to graze, check the fences and gates.

And before he goes back in the house, check the fences and gates one last time. He can’t afford a repeat of last summer, when all the sheep somehow escaped and made their way halfway down the mountain before Shoyo had even noticed. He scrunches his nose up at the memory.

Before he even opens the door, he can smell eggs. Burning. He walks in and Natsu is standing at the stove, a panicked look on her face. They make eye contact and just stand there for a moment. Shoyo shakes his head and laughs. “Couldn’t have waited a couple minutes?”

“You take forever to do chores. How was I supposed to know when you were coming back in?” She rolls her eyes and takes the pan off the stove, dumping the remains of the eggs into the garbage can. “Can you, like, make me something? I’m starving.”

He nods, snickering again. The clock on the stove reads 6:52–he’s kind of surprised that Natsu is even awake at this hour. Usually she wakes up twenty minutes before they have to leave for school and frantically rushes around the house.

He makes her eggs, sits at the table with her while she eats, listens to her talk about her dream food through a mouthful of food, and then cleans her plate when she’s done. He thinks—no, he knows that she’s a spoiled brat, but he doesn’t care all that much. As long as she’s happy, so is he.

On the ride to school, they have the same animated talk they always do. Natsu is talking about school, complaining about drama, and Shoyo is egging her on, laughing at the way she phrases things. He drops her off, then goes to school himself.

He’s never really liked school. The teachers talk too fast and they never answer his questions. He can’t pay attention, he never stops moving. His teachers like him, but always tell his mom at conferences that he talks too much. He’s perfectly content with his life on the farm and when he tried to drop out to help full time, his mom just about killed him.

He gets through the day by zoning out and messing around with his friends. He only gets in trouble twice—a personal record for him, he thinks. He gets out of school early because he’s a third year, so he sits outside of the middle for about an hour, attempting his homework while he waits for Natsu.

The car ride home is the same as this morning; Natsu talks, Shoyo talks, and they laugh together. He doesn’t think he’s ever laughed as hard as he does with Natsu. Even though she’s seven years younger than him, she gets his humor more than anyone else he’s ever met.

Natsu doesn’t have as much trouble in school as Shoyo does. She’s always been the smarter one, the one with better grades. Shoyo knows she’s going to go far in life.

When they get home, the house is empty. It usually is. There’s a container of food on the counter with a sticky note attached to it. The note reads, “working another night shift. Put this in the microwave for two minutes. Hope you kids had a good day! Don’f forget to do homework. Sho take the garbage out, Natsu do some laundry. Love you guys to the moon and back!”

It brings a smile to his face, but Natsu huffs and storms off to her room. Mom not being around takes more of a toll on Natsu than it does Shoyo. He figures it’s because she’s a pre-teen girl and he is, well, not.

He sits down at the table to do his homework for a couple hours, then calls Natsu in to try to help her. He gets more confused than anything. He puts the food in the microwave and they have dinner together, quietly.

At the end of the night, he takes the garbage out. He puts the sheep and cow back into their pens for the night and checks the fences and gates more than once. He takes a shower and flops down into his bed, almost immediately falling asleep.