#bc if you don't help others when they need help then who is going to help you when you need it?

[shotofstress]

I could have been murdered multiple times by cops while protesting when I was a chronically ill and disable 17yo, like when I tried to be a human shield to stop the shot of tear gas contaminated water the cops were using to attack my 15yo classmates. Average shit for the times I protested during my life. One time I wasn't even protesting, was just outside of the collage going home at night and suddenly a young men and women took me from the arms and shoulders and put me with them behind a tree. The went slow and saw the huge ass rubber bullets pass where seconds ago was my head. They even shot the tear gas cans to our bodies and head, classic shit that easily have kill people. We were so used to tear gas that we keep having classes even when the campus was being under cop attack. We knew how wasn't from the collage bc they begun to cry the second they were in from of the campus from all the gas stored in the ground, buildings and trees. For decades upon decades there is people that never returned home bc the cops or/and the militares took them, no matter if they were in the protests or not. Kids have been hit and shot by this criminals trained by USA under the torture, war criminal training and dictatorship center known as School of the Americas. Gringos, the moment they have to do the 1% of what the Global South do everyday to survive, retreat and feel scared to the point of doing nothing. Weird thing for a country so obsessed with violence and weapons to the point that even kids and teens know how to shot.

Will usamericans know some day that every single one of usa presidents have controlled global south and send their people, like CIA agents, to kill us? Yet no matter who was in usa presidency nor in Global South country president ppl still went and still go to the streets knowing that there is no guaranty they will come back? We don't even have guns nor know how to shot bc we are not a bunch of imperialists terrorists and yet we go to face the cops? I had the point lesser of riot weapons all over be in a chaos of smoke and gas wearing just a sweter, jeans and sneakers in 2016, for example. No weapons. In 2019 the president Piñera (rest in piss) declared us war with USA help, they put the country in state of emergency and curfew to torturing, mutilating, raping, burning, and disappearing hundreds upon hundreds, yet we still went out to protests, specially the more marginalised people in the worst areas of the cities and towns all over the country. The weapons? Wooden spoons, pots, skillets, musical instruments, flags, some molotovs, some ppl improvised a native weapon to throwing stones, the stones in question? Pieces of brick or cement or asphalt taken from the streets.

Die doing at least one right and just thing in your life. Don't want to or can't? Then make info documents for the protesters with what they need to carry, what they can use to clean the tear gas, the wornds, etc. Your ppl has never done shit for Global South, never protested and riot to stop usa colonialism and cops in my continen nor any place. At least do some shit for you pisshole imperialist international terrorist regime that you dare to call a country. My people had their eyes taken, their bodies burned, some mutilated, others thrown to the sea, others into our desert to never be found. And you ppl complain? You ppl dare to complaint? Cops will hit you, maybe shot you, and yet you will never suffer the horrible things that your people and country do to the rest of the world, so rest assured your protests will be better and prettier than the ones we have.

Will ur cops and soldiers put rats inside the vaginas, rectum or mouths of gringos just for protesting or just being a dissident like happened in my country? Will they rape you with dogs? I don't think so. Will ur cops torture you in the subway and take out your eyes for fun? Will you be forced to have sex with one of your family memeber by cops and soldiers like USA teach our cops and military? Will your bodies be burn in ceramic ovens like us? Be mutilated and shove in the streets to open view of everyone?

No? Then why you complain about maybe dying protesting? After all, you are not the Global South under usa and other imperialists countries while being in democracy or in dictatorships, no matter bc both are the same shit. You will be fine, even if they kill you at least you will not be humiliated and dehumanised in the way my people was and is while alive and when dead too.

“We won’t be able to organize/ protest under Trump”.

People in the Global South have been organizing and protesting under dictatorships that America has installed as puppets for decades. You will be fine.

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 18

Title: Cheat Day

Pairing: Personal Trainer! Bucky x Curvy!female reader

Tags/warnings: SMUT, semi-public sex, shower sex (slippery), self-consciousness, mentions of cellulite/stretch marks, a smidge of fluff bc I can't resist, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it!!), pet names (doll, baby), praise

Summary: You are a newbie to a gym and one of the regulars takes a liking to you and offers to help you on your gym journey. However, you notice that he's a lot more hands on than other trainers at the gym

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: maybe it should more aptly be gym buddy Bucky but alas... I had plans - I promise!! I might have to get my big fics out tomorrow rip me

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Warm Up

You hate, hate, hate HATE working out.

You hate the gym. You hate the way you look like a lost puppy and don't know which machine to use. You hate that you get so out of breath on a tread mill. You hate how your arms wobble when you lift weights.

And you hate that damn Stairmaster.

The only thing you love is perhaps how your deliciously thick thighs can support the heavy weights on the legs press like it's nothing. That would probably be it.

You take one of the last treadmills available, setting your bottle and towel down before fiddling with your earbuds. You're not really paying attention to the guy next to you; you're too focused on trying to get through your warm up.

You start at a walk. You're hair swishing as you lift it to your crown to tie with a hairband. The guy beside you picks up his pace and your eyes flicker over to him. And oh God. What a guy. He's tall and muscular, clearly a regular unlike yourself who makes every excuse under the sun to avoid the gym, with a mop of dark hair that's bouncing to his movements. He's barely sweating at a pace that would have you panting.

You don't realise you've been staring until he smiles at you, sticking his tongue out playfully, before going back to running.

You are red faced and almost trip over your feet. You need to focus. You turn your music up and eventually break into a light jog. After thirty minutes your gym buddy wipes down the machine and disappears to another section of the gym, flashing you a smirk and a wave has you watch him go.

His T-shirt has the logo of the gym of its back and for a split second you're wondering if you should book a session, before scolding your horny brain.

Workout. Focus on working out.

Arms

The next time you come to the gym, it's dark out. You'd spent the day in work and although you just wanted to go home and eat dinner, maybe have a glass (or three) of wine, you had made a promise to yourself to go and now you were here.

It was so much more peaceful at night. The blaring music was off and there was hardly anyone about. Suddenly, you loved your idea of coming here. You had little reason to be self-conscious with so few people around.

Today was arms and you were busy trying to hype yourself up using the bench press. Arms were the worst, just after cardio and you dreaded having to do this. Suddenly the thought of three glasses of wine didn't seem so bad.

Adjusting the weights either side of the bar, you slip under it, getting comfortable against the hard leather seat. You reach up and grasp the bar, straightening your arms and pushing the bar out of it's rest. Your arms wobble slightly, your arms bracing against the weight and you hadn't even managed one rep. Perhaps you'd done the weight wrong.

"Whoa doll!" A voice calls out and you strain your neck trying to look for the approaching footsteps. It's the guy from the other day. "You're gonna hurt yourself doing it like that."

"I - Uh-" you grip the handles, unsure if he wants you to let go or not, but you're palms are starting to sweat. "Okay."

He grins down at you, placing large, rough hands over yours and gently lifting the handles back to stationery position.

"Thanks." You sigh, rubbing your sweaty palms on your workout leggings. You glance up at him again, only to find you're eye level with his crotch and go beet red.

Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts.

The guy doesn't seem to notice. "I'm Bucky. I'm one of the trainers here."

"Y/N." You try and offer a smile but you're too focused on not thinking that his crotch his just right there.

"I've seen you round here once or twice before, um..." Bucky rakes a hand through his long hair. "You're new right? Have you thought about getting a personal trainer?"

You recalled almost tripping in front of him a week or so ago and flush red. Was it that obvious you weren't a regular? Unhelpful, mean thoughts fluttered through your head and you fought to push them away.

"That obvious, huh?" You smile sheepishly, finally sitting up on the bench.

"Very obvious." Bucky nods, still smiling at you. "You hadn't put the locks on the plates, they could have slipped and injured that pretty face."

Your eyes widen; you hadn't noticed the locks and were grateful Bucky was there to save you from injury... even if he was being a flirt about it.

Even if it made your heart flutter.

"Well, thankfully I have a hero to step in." You tell him playfully. "And about the personal trainer... to be quite honest, I don't think I could afford one right now."

You give him an apologetic shrug but he only smirks in response. "Good thing I'll help you for free. Consider it a free trial."

You eyebrows shoot up. Having someone around to motivate you and show you the ropes would be ideal, and especially if it was someone as handsome as Bucky, it may motivate you to come to the gym more often.

"Only if you're sure." You say cautiously, eyeing him. "I don't want you to lose out on work because you're helping me."

Bucky shrugs. "Hey, helping you is more important. I can just text you what days and times I'll be at the gym - if you're here the same time, then we can do some sets together."

You can't say no to that. His eyes brighten when you agree and exchange numbers before he runs you through how to correctly use the bench press, encouraging you and praising you even though you're red faced and drenched in sweat by the end of your set. But you feel fantastic.

If this was how your sessions with Bucky would be, maybe you'd have to consider saving up for more sessions.

Legs

Whichever the Bucky you saw the night he convinced you to take some sessions with him, didn't exist after that night.

The next few sessions with Bucky he'd been nothing but a hard ass, making your brows furrow with displeasure each time he taunted you. It spurred you to complete reps sure, but that wasn't the point. Quite frankly, you missed him being a little bit nicer and you missed the praise that came with it.

"It's false advertising," You huff mid-squat, shooting Bucky a glare. The more time you'd spent with him, the more confident you'd become at back talking him (even though you'd still complete all your reps). "If I'd have known you were going to be a drill sergeant, I wouldn't have agreed to this."

Bucky chuckles, eyeing your form as he stands with his big arms folded, sipping his water bottle. "And yet you finish every rep like a good little soldier." He teases back.

You scoff in response but your cheeks still grow warm. "Whatever."

After squats it was the leg curl machine. You're on your front, your quads under the foam cushions of the machines trying to push the bar against the curve of your ass but it's too heavy. Bucky is stood, as always, with folded arms watching you intently.

"Bucky, it's too heavy." You huff, letting your legs relax. "I need to put the weight down."

"No, you're doing it wrong." He chuckles. "May I?" He approaches, hands splayed.

You shrug, looking over at him with your chin in your palms. "Be my guest."

You still jump when you feel his strong hands on your thighs, moving them slightly wider. Your heart leaps into your throat and you could swear his fingers linger. His fingers are hot even through your gym wear and you're suddenly bashful when your head is filled with thoughts of another type of exercise you could be doing with Bucky. Again.

His hands trail to your knees slowly, bending them a little more before giving your calves a playful squeeze.

"Try now." He says quietly and you obey. The curl is a lot easier now, and the bar smacks your ass making it wobble.

"Oh, wow, OK." You chuckle bashfully. "Yeah OK you were right."

You catch Bucky smirking triumphantly but his eyes aren't on you; they're shamelessly glued to your legs and ass, watching you perform your reps.

Heat pools to your core and you quickly glance away. You have to be imagining it.

You have to.

Cardio

It had been about two weeks since you last saw Bucky and since you last visited the gym. You'd had a cold and then were so busy at work you couldn't find the time to drop by. You'd dropped Bucky a text to say you'd be out of commission but never explained why - and he'd not asked.

Sighing, you dumped your towel and water bottle next to the treadmill and began to walk. You'd come to the gym tonight for an escape. You hadn't wanted to text Bucky just in case he'd already be asleep but you itched to reach out.

The gym was a ghost town. Only the whirr of your treadmill echoed around the open space. You tried not to think about how you wished you'd bumped into Bucky or remember how he'd looked at you.

Maybe he's like that with all newbies...

That thought made your chest twist uncomfortably. You picked up your earbuds and shoved them in your ears, picking up your pace to a light jog.

So much for easing yourself back into it.

After an hour, you decide to call it quits.

It's 11pm and you just want to be back in your bed, hidden under the covers, away from the world.

You're on your way to the showers when you bump into a familiar face emerging from the men's changing room.

"Y/N?" Bucky

"Hey." You pause as he approaches, taking in the sight of his large biceps under the rolled up sleeves of his tee. "How've you been?

"Good. Long time no see. I thought I lost you."

You can't help yourself from smiling. "Oh no, can't keep me away from this place." You say sarcastically, making Bucky grin over at you.

"Really? Even miss me?" He teases softly.

"I don't miss you being a hard ass, if that's what you mean." You quip and Bucky scoffs. "But I have missed you."

Both of your gazes meet and the tension you'd been feeling over the last few weeks increases a hundred fold.

"So..." Bucky says slowly, barely breathing as he looks at you, not knowing which path to tread. "What are we doing tonight?"

"I've just finished," you say a little disheartened. "I was about to hit the shower."

"Can I join you?"

You both stare at one another. Bucky’s brain was expecting you to say your plan for your next set... not that you were going to shower. Mortified, redness bolts to his cheeks as he attempts to back track.

"I - I mean," he shutters and then coughs awkwardly. Your face is equally red but your eyes glimmer with want. "I thought - Uh- you were going to-"

"Sure," you say thickly.

Bucky's brain short circuits again and you give him that bashful smile that makes his heart stammer.

The women's showers are empty and after two minutes Bucky sneaks in behind you. As soon as the door closes, his strong arms pull you towards him, cupping your face before putting his lips on yours.

"Missed you too," he huffs, pulling his shirt off as you both fumble blindly for a shower booth. Bucky tugs at your gym clothes desperately as he kisses you, urging you to undress.

Your mind swims. He missed you too. He's kissing you senseless and you're sure that given the chance he'd rip your clothes from your body.

You peel away your clothes, pausing only to give Bucky more needy kisses in between layers. Bucky follows suit, discarding his sneakers, shorts and boxers into the pile next to your feet.

You feel a wave of self-consciousness as you take in Bucky's body; all muscle, toned and hard and utter perfection. Your eyes drop to your body; soft, squishable, with silvery zebra stripes running over your hips.

You hear Bucky suck in a short breath and you glance up through your eyelashes, smiling a little nervously. His blue eyes are transfixed on you as he closes the space between you. His fingers twitch as he reaches for you, desperate to feel your skin under his hands, but not knowing where he wants to touch first.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his hands ghosting over your hips, drawing you flush against him. His hands tighten their grip on your hips and you you gasp softly, feeling the hard heat of his cock brush against your thighs. One hand cups your face again, and Bucky’s head dips to kiss you slowly. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip and you open your mouth wider, letting Bucky kiss you with far more passion and severance than you'd anticipated.

You're lost in the kiss for what seems like an age; your fingers running through his hair as his hands explore your body, tracing each and every curve, groping at your breasts, hips and ass. You moan into his mouth, mimicking his actions, running your hands over his pecks and down his abs to his cock against your thigh. Bucky pants a curse as you pump him a few times, nipping along his jaw.

"Bucky," You whisper. "The shower."

"Right," he huffs. He pulls the shower door open and gestures for you to step inside first, following closely behind and pressing the on switch.

You gasp when cold water hits your back and Bucky chuckles, arms encircling your waist and moving in to latch onto your neck under the spray of now luke-warm water. Your arms attach themselves around his neck, half-hoisted as you spread your legs to allow Bucky to slot between them. You bite back a loud gasp when Bucky's hand slides between your legs, running along your slit finding your sweet bundle of nerves and drawing quick, tight circles.

"Bucky," you whimper into his neck, your your breathing hitching and hitching like the tightness in your core; rushing upward so fast you feel lightheaded.

"Cum for me doll, be a good girl and cum for me," Bucky sucks at your neck, groping at your tits with his free hand. You lean your head against the shower wall as you feel pussy clenches around nothing. Your fingers grip at Bucky's wet hair, gasping his name as you hang at the precipice of your orgasm. Without warning, Bucky plunges two fingers into your sopping hole, curling them inside you. Your orgasm crashes over you and you cum over his fingers with a wracked half sob.

Bucky's fingers are withdrawn as quickly as they're inserted, leaving you hollow and looking at Bucky pleadingly. He grins at you pecking your lips with a hasty kiss.

"'M sorry, doll. I promise to take my time next time but I need you so bad."

He lifts you with ease, pushing your back against the cool wall, wrapping his arms under your thighs and spreading them open. Wisps of steam rise from behind him as your eyes lock, his cock brushing against your slick folds only once before he slowly lowers you down onto him.

"Oh - oh - oh!" You moan as he breaches inch by inch, each time your walls contract around him, adjusting to his size. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your thighs shake with pleasure and you're utterly at his mercy as he starts to fuck up into you.

"That's it, baby." Bucky praises, littering your face with kisses. "You feel amazing on my cock."

You moan his name and kiss his lips hungrily, pulling yourself closer to him as he brings you to ruin again. Your pussy's grip is like a vice, milking him as you press yourself flush against him glassy eyes meeting his and Bucky can't take it any longer.

Bucky pants curses rutting into you before pulling out entirely and cumming over your stomach and thighs with a short groan. His cock continues to twitch, his cum slowly being washed away by the water save for the white, thick line that connects to your thigh. Bucky slowly lowers you to your feet and you lean against him for support, relaxing in the post-orgasm bliss and the heat of the water.

"I've wanted to do that since the moment I laid on you," he confesses, tilting your head up to capture your lips in a sweet kiss.

"So have I," You admit with a soft chuckle. "Kinda wish we could have done that instead of you making me do squats."

"But you're ass looked good." Bucky teases, chuckling when you glare at him.

"So you were checking me out!" You smack at his bicep playfully and that earns you one of his boyish smiles.

"So? Besides, more importantly," His hands grasp your hips tightly, forcing you to be still. "Today's a cheat day and I wanna take you out."

"Take me out? At 11pm? What's even open?" You smile up at him and he only shrugs.

"Okay, fine, twist my arm. Breakfast it is." He kisses you again, this time lingering a moment before smirking deviously at you. "But first let's get you cleaned up."

[weralika]

i would also love to hear your thoughts about kandreil being codependent and toxic please and thank you 🙏

SORRY I MISSED YOUR ASK SOMEHOW!!!

so lemme begin 🙂🙂

the most dependent one is kevin, obviously, because of raven's partner system and everything. when he transferred to psu, Andrew (whether he wanted that or not) became his partner and Kevin would be so broken when Andrew starts to spend time with Neil more than not.

Andrew is angry about that!! because yes, he wanted to save that stupid boy, but he didn't know Kevin would never learn to be by himself, Andrew would never treat him with that kind of caress (I dare say) if he knew Kevin would become addicted.

so yes, Kevin is addicted

there we can imagine Kevin leaving PSU and crying in his bed with dirty sheets because he misses them so much he can't even do the chores properly (same bro)

Neil is the smartest one 🙂 he quickly realised that they have a strange kind of friendship and he knows that their tension is mutual (somehow??? he was oblivious with Andrew I know, but he just knows they like each other)

he still feels some awe when talking to Kevin because wdym KEVIN DAY is training ME??? is that a dream? wtf

so he would never cross the line!! because of Andrew he learnt the concept of consent and now he's afraid to make a mistake (he is 99% sure that Kevin wants to kiss him but that 1%)

their relationship starts when Kevin gets so jealous he almost tells them to stop flirting and fuck already (bc he knows they do fuck. he has ears, unfortunately)

he only tells them to be quiet bc he has a lot of homework and Neil strikes with "I'm not your homework, but you can do me" like maaaan wtf is that (Kevin blushes, Andrew asks if they want him to go away and then long conversation about kevin not being gay and not being in love with them)

almost instantly they become a wreck!! because Kevin needs so much attention that sometimes he tries to ignore their boundaries!! he is stupid and wants to kiss!! he feels guilty as fuck after being scolded he almost cries (sorry is it too ooc???)

he learns how to be not that demanding (imagine having 2 boyfriends and still it's not enough) and Neil tries to help him (he hugs him actually)

when they are apart, Kevin is sad as fuck but when together he is a little nervous most of the time, because he is too afraid to ruin everything (like he checks if Neil really wants to kiss him)

also this post became just my rant about Kevin but he's really terrified of being a third wheel and tries to give them time alone even if he's so hungry for their attention he has to grit his teeth after saying "I'm going for a run alone because I don't want to interrupt your crazy chemistry"

Andrew is afraid of losing them!! he thinks he's not enough for Neil and Kevin, he's not even so interested in exy and they have so much in common and he is just stupid traumatized boy who can't show affection when Kevin needs it, he's so useless that they don't even ask him about going pro anymore, they do not imagine their future together like andrew does.

they do.

Neil is just a stray kitten in a warm house who thinks he would not spend another night there :D so he tries to make the most out of their relationship! he kisses Kevin 70% times he wants to be kissed, and other 30% is Andrew or no one because they're not in the mood

it turned out not toxic or even codependent I'm sorry ☠️☠️ but I tried to describe my vision or them close (as I can) to canon, not some ugly shit I have in my brain about andrew being (a little) abusive or Neil being a fucking cheater which I am guilty of thinking about!

[trans-leek-cookie]

listen I'm not gonna be a Curly apologist he did Fucked Up as captain but I genuinely recommend ppl watch a playthru that goes thru the game in chronological order. It kinda helps clear up the events and gaps between them, bc even tho u See the times, you still experience it out of order.

The stuff Anya says definitely sets off alarm bells but it doesn't seem like he Fully Understands what she means, and I'm going to be 100% honest I think she was trying to repress it herself. This isn't to say that she is AT ALL "at fault" for what happened after and she should've gotten help even if she wasn't ready to fully discuss the issue but I genuinely think she herself was still coming to terms with things, so she didn't necessarily process the full impact before talking to Curly, and a lot of what happens occurs after they're laid off- like this delves into personal interpretation but I genuinely think Anya only registered Jimmy as a serious danger after his outburst towards Curly. Ofc my interpretation is limited bc of the limited pov in game and not having gone through what she has, but it personally reads more akin to coercion over time than a singular Obviously Violent incident (like. Not to say that Sexual Assault isnt violent in nature, just that coercion often specifically works to obfuscate the fact it is a form of violence.) The layoff is a Massive catalyst for her bc of Jimmy, in that she now has a very clear understanding of his capacity for aggression.

To extrapolate a little from the "Dead Pixel" conversation, she starts by saying she Likes The Screen (even though it's fake). While Curly has his quotes about the pixel "not ruining the illusion" which. Y'know is Symbolic Of His Flaws. She doesn't say the pixel ruins it, just that she can't get it out of her mind.

If we take the pixel to represent her Or jimmy, either way the way she talks about it kind of downplays things, like it's a Minor Thing that's Slightly Upsetting, but she's still okay with the big picture. Idk I could be 100% wrong but that is my take

Besides that, Anya tells curly she's pregnant 2 days before the crash, and it isn't until she outright states it that he starts Putting The Pieces Together. I want to note, he says "I'd do anything" and "this doesn't have to go on our performance evals" 1. Before he knows shes pregnant 2. Under the assumption she might attempt suicide, and I doubt he even thought about her using the gun on anyone else before she brings that up. He says literally before the line where she tells him she's pregnant that "being laid off isnt a reason to hurt [herself]". Like I've seen ppl talk about the performance evaluation thing like it's about her and jimmy, but I think he's referring to (his belief) that she might attempt suicide or similar which might genuinely be a consistent thing he's seen her struggle with, given she's able to go through with it. Also just to note: assuming their society is like ours (hellish) reassuring her he won't blab Abt her mental health is like. Genuine reassurance- lots of mentally ill ppl will Not Open Up bc it could have long term consequences (like. For example. On employment) ANYWAYS I hope it doesn't come off like "Curly never failed Anya" but rather "Curly approached this specific situation without the context of why Anya is panicking and (possibly validly) assuming she's dealing with a very different issue"

Also let me say again the time frame is 2 days. We don't Really see what happens, but we know Anya tells Jimmy without Curly knowing. I genuinely believe he maybe didn't do a Great Job in those two days (the fact he says Anya should've talked to Him before telling Jimmy is uhhh. Mm. 1. Your job to create an environment where she comes to you my man 2. Weird to tell her what she should do with HER OWN PERSONAL INFORMATION) but like.

I get a lot of ppl want immediate consequences but consider that they can't really get rid of Jimmy (co pilot. Which is. Y'know it's Own Problems) but also like. Curly knows Jimmy, and we know that Jimmy tends to lash out. Curly should probably Not Confront Jimmy Unless He Knows Exactly How To Keep Him From Hurting Anya. Like I'm not an expert but this is something genuinely important- when confronting an abuser you NEED to take into account the impact it can have on their victim, and sometimes for the victims safety you need to wait until you have a Solid Plan. It sucks but it's important.

And theres discussion to be had about Curly kinda going along with Jimmy saying "well what if we all died" and like. I do believe he Didn't Realize What Jimmy Said. Like he was just processing/trying to keep the situation under control (and failing because he underestimated how willing Jimmy was to hurt everyone including himself).

Like he's definitely an enabler but I would say his problems are mostly before he understands the gravity of the situation, in that he's friends with Jimmy and assumes the best of a man with abusive tendencies, and fails to create an environment that can keep Anya and the others safe. Like, he definitely doesn't handle in game events perfectly (psych evaluation for one- he does do it instead of Anya which is actually helpful, but he still treats it like. Weirdly.)

Idk I have a lot of thoughts about this game and I don't necessarily want to defend Curly but more like. Anya's situation is very delicate (and light on details) so sometimes the way ppl talk Abt it feels like they aren't actually focused on what she wants and what it means to prioritize her safety y'know?

Edit bc I just now figured out kinda how I want to word it: curly is an enabler and making things worse bc he doesn't put a stop to Jimmy's BS, but in the specific scenario we see in game I think he's trying to use his Skillset of like, people pleasing not for Jimmy's sake but for the crews (like "if I nod my head and say I sympathize he won't lash out and hurt them") which like. There are situations which that is unfortunately the safest option (on an individual level yes, but sometimes it's also necessary to prevent abusers lashing out in response toward ppl who are more vulnerable) but it was the Wrong Choice.

It's like. I think Curly was trying and had good intentions, and understood that he needed to protect the crew, but he didn't have the toolset/experience to realize he can't Just go along with things and that he needs to be able to set hard limits, even for ppl he likes and trusts. Like he failed but the failure was "for want of a nail", where it began way before what we see (for want of an understanding of power dynamics I guess.) Again, don't think this makes curly more forgivable or whatever, I just think he's a good example of trying to make the right choices when you never realized you'd have to make these kinds of decisions and therefore are unprepared and/or unaware

Second edit: personally I don't think you can really incapacitate jimmy without there being serious risk (again he's the copilot) but curly should've given Anya the gun when she told him Abt the pregnancy

[zyafics-recs]

reblogging comment review by @zyafics

LITERALLY FINISHED AN ASSIGNMENT AND NOW I CAN TAKE A BREATH LETS GOOOO (long annotations below ⬇️)

Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster.

my psychopath lets gooo

The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor.There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue.

ur descriptions paints the scene of s2ep10 when they were on the ship so well, like i remember staring at your words going: wow 😦

"They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me.""Now, what am I going to do with you?"

why r all the crazy ones so fine

“To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

i love LOVE when the reader provokes rafe using his father like bro that's such a trigger for him rein it in 😭

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

YOOOOOO 😡

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set.

god, i love ur descriptions so much u don't understand i'm taking notes as i read this 📝

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

i love how much of a psychopath he is in this fic, like yes, this is the crazy man of s2 (i can fix him 🤞🏻)

He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end.

YES, i love maybank!reader's deep analysis of rafe bc we know and that doesn't excuse his behavior but it helps us understand him 🥹

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

i love her lore so so much!!

And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too.

she's a love not a fighter fr 😩

"Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away.""Family's supposed to be everything, right?"

my daddy issues babies, sometimes i wanna push u two together like barbie and ken during play sessions (am i making sense idk anymore)

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

I LOVE LOVE LITTLE DETAILS LIKE THIS

“Shut up. Just… shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm

he has a heart !!!!

"So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

one of the things i admire so heavily with your writing is ur ability to write tense dialogues, the way they fight back and forth with words!! like i love it so so much!!

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper."And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

LOVE LOVE A HATE KISS

The kiss was rough and desperate, fueled by anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain.And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there was a spark—as if you were both too messed up to understand how much you needed each other.

the poetry!!! shakespeare!!! u can write hamlet but can william write this?!?!?

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing."And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

i love when they're making out but they find ways to take shots at each other "I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. “Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "“Fucking asshole.”“Fucking brat.”

he's such a prick 😭 i want him in my bed

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

one of the hottest things a man can say to me

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

one of my favorite scenes got me kicking my feet like a school girl (dude u CARE stfu 😭)

“We’re getting out.”You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."“Okay.”“Okay.”

I'M OBSESSED WITH YOUR WORDS OH MY GOD

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | okay okay, let me catch my breath because that smut (their banter!!) was so fucking hot 🥵 (why do i use emojis like a middle school boy? anyways) i think what i truly noticed from this fic is how compelling you can make a scene. the way you built transitions so seamlessly through strong descriptions about what's going on (plot wise!) and it's such an admirable skill that i deeply deeply wish i have. especially because the language and vocabulary you use are so clean and expressive without making the audience (like me) feel dumb about not knowing the definition (does that make sense?) also also. as i always point out, i'm obsessed with your build-up dialogues. right before we hit the intense parts, you manage to build up this anticipation and adrenaline from reader and rafe arguing back and forth. and what i appreciate is how you kept the enemies part of enemies to lovers all the way through, only concluding that reader feels complicated near the end. like i love that she didn't fold; she continues to be defiant and her and that brings me to another trait i love about ur writing: ur consistency in your readers. if u plan on making a certain reader rebellious, you keep it to the very end and i love that. oops, this is getting a little too long. anyways, as always, incredible work gigi, i would love to see more of maybank!reader from you especially a second part to their escape (and what it means for them to be back in obx together?? her brother's reaction?? 🫠)

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18)

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛" + "def some little smut during the enemies part and a long story"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; kidnapping; smut!; violence!; rafe is a red flag; guns and blood; p in v; they tell each other to shut the fuck up a lot lmao;

word count: 8k...im sorry

The sun dipped low, painting the Outer Banks marshes in shades of fiery orange. Tensions between the Kooks and the Pogues had hit a fever pitch, and in the middle of it all? Rafe Cameron, the last person you'd want to encounter. Ever. 

Every run-in with him left a bitter taste in your mouth, lingering for days. It was like he had a knack for getting under your skin. Arrogant, volatile, downright psychotic — Rafe was a walking disaster. Each interaction with him sucked the life out of you. You were convinced that nothing good could ever come from being around him. And yet, there you were, another Maybank, caught in the chaos of the island's most influential family feud.

You knew the risks, but loyalty drove you forward. And now? Well, now you were in deep shit.

Your plan had been reckless, fueled by the desperate need to save Sarah from her deranged family and retrieve Pope's stolen cross. Everything had gone smoothly until chaos erupted, and you found yourself abruptly yanked away from the corridor by a strong grip on your arm, before you could even call out for your brother and Kie. Another hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any attempts to scream. In a blur, you were dragged into a dimly lit cabin, the men's hold on you unyielding. Struggling was futile against his iron grip. He tossed you inside, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. The gravity of your situation hit hard immediately – you were alone, at the mercy of Ward Cameron. The man who'd silenced anyone who dared oppose him, even going as far as faking his own death, kidnapping his own daughter, and manipulating his son into committing murder. 

Because in his twisted world, family trumped everything. Even murder.

Your mind raced as you took in your surroundings. The cabin was small and sparsely furnished: a bunk, a tiny porthole high on the wall, and a single chair bolted to the floor. There was a faint hum of the ship's engines, a constant reminder that you were far from land and any chance of immediate rescue. You quickly assessed your options. The door was solid, and you didn't have anything strong enough to force it open. Fuck, fuck fuck. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Panic wouldn't help; you needed a plan. But then, like a nightmare come to life, the devil himself stepped into the room, his eyes piercing as they landed on you. The man who had captured you stood behind him, a smug grin on his face. 

Rafe was visibly surprised to see you, but he quickly concealed it behind a cold, calculating expression. His forehead glistened with sweat, his hair damp and sticking to his temples. His shirt clung to his back, soaked through from the scorching heat, and beads of perspiration trickled down his face. He wiped his brow with a weary hand and his gun gleamed ominously in the dim light.

"Well shit,” Rafe said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Look what we have here. Didn't expect to see ya again so soon pretty Maybank.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but your mind was racing with questions. Where were your friends? Were they safe? Was your brother even alive? Before you could ask, Rafe continued, his tone mocking. 

"Your brother really did a number on you, huh? Left you behind without a second thought. Typical Maybank shit, huh? Always knew you were unreliable."

Son of a bitch. You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your composure. "You're lying," you countered, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at you, "He wouldn't leave me."

Not unless he was forced to.

Rafe chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Believe what you want. They left. Now, you're my problem. Lucky me."

“You’re lying.”

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint as he advanced towards you. You took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. The cold, metal wall pressed against your back, mirroring the chill that had settled in your bones.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" he mused, tilting his head as if genuinely contemplating your fate. The gun in his hand swung lazily at his side, but you knew better than to think it wasn't ready to be used at a moment's notice. You swallowed hard, your mind frantically searching for a way out of this hellhole. He was unpredictable and volatile; years of snorting cocaine and family trauma did that to some people. 

But maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him. 

“Rafe, listen. You don't have to do this. Let me go and we can both walk away from this. No one has to get hurt."

Again. 

His laugh was sharp and bitter. "You think I'm going to let you go just because you asked nicely?" He stepped closer, his breath hot against your face. "Nah. You're going to stay right here until I decide what to do with you.“ 

You tried to keep your breathing steady, but fear clawed at your chest. The odds were against you, as they had always been your entire life.

"What do you want, Rafe? The cross? We can make a deal."

His eyes narrowed, the amusement fading. 

"You think this is about money? About that fucking cross? This is about power. Control. And right now...huh, shit, I control you." He leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. "The cross is mine now. How do you feel about the Bahamas?”

Your top lip curled in disgust, “I’d rather drown.”

His smile twisted into something even darker. “I think you’re worth more alive, at least for now.”

You refused to show him any more fear. “To you? Or Ward? Do you only get this cocky when daddy’s not around to rein you in?”

Rafe’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you thought you’d pushed him too far. He leaned in close, his eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Maybank. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You laughed bitterly, unable to stop yourself. “Yeah, no. You're right. Just that you're dad’s little lapdog, doing his dirty work while he pretends to be some upstanding citizen. And where’s your mom in all this? Oh! She left.”

The punch came so fast, you didn’t see it coming. Pain exploded across your jaw, and you tasted blood. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t fucking talk about her, dirty pogue. Ever.”

Anger took over you like wildfire, burning hotter than the pain. Your jaw throbbed, but the rage was stronger. You wanted to hit him back, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him feel the hurt he had inflicted on you. Your fists clenched at your sides, every muscle in your body taut with the desire for retribution. The fury in your eyes matched the darkness in his.

You spat blood at his face, glaring up at him defiantly. “You’re just a puppet. Your sister hates you, your dad uses you, and deep down, you know it. You’ll never be more than his bitch.” 

His grip tightened painfully, rough fingers digging into your flesh, lips twitching into a snarl, but you didn’t flinch. If you were going down, you’d go down fighting. His eyes flickered with something you’d never seen in him, before he released you, stepping back. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? So tough.”

“Smarter than you,” you shot back. “At least I know who I am. What are you, Rafe?“

He stared at you, tongue pressed against his cheek, eyebrows furrowed. Then he laughed, a harsh, grating sound that sent chills down your spine. His hand reached out, and your breath stilled throat tightening as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out another laugh, entirely dismissive of the trepidation you’d felt stuck.

“You’ve got guts, Maybank. It's gonna get you killed.“

You wiped the blood from your mouth, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. “I’ve survived worse than you.”

And you had. If anything prepared you for violence, drugs, and pain, was living with Luke Maybank your entire life. And maybe, if you didn’t hate Rafe with every fiber of your being, after everything he’d done, you’d feel sorry for him. But you didn’t, and he sure as hell didn't feel sorry for you. 

For a moment, the room was silent except for the low hum of the ship’s engines. Then Rafe turned on his heel, motioning to the man by the door. “Watch her. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

“Do I look like fucking Michael Phelps? Where the fuck would I go? We’re on a ship you crazy bastar—Hey! Rafe! Open the fucking door!” 

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the small, dimly lit cabin. You listened to his footsteps fade away, feeling a sense of relief and dread settle in your chest. What the fuck had you gotten yourself into? They could kill you, dispose your body in the ocean and no would give a single fuck. No one would think you’d gone missing, because you’re a Maybank and that’s what your kind of people did, apparently. Your brother would probably assume you’re dead, he’d try to get justice and fail in the end, because the rich always won.

The musty air of the cabin felt oppressive as you turned away from the small porthole, where the bright sun and endless expanse of blue ocean taunted you from beyond. Days had melded into one another, each marked only by the arrival of meals and the sporadic presence of Rafe. You had hoped for some sense of clarity, some hint of what your future held, but his visits offered nothing but insults and foreboding silence.

You paced the small room, your mind racing with the possibilities of what they had planned for you. The guard remained a silent sentinel, a constant reminder that escape was not an option. But then, the cabin door creaked open again, and you tensed as Ward Cameron stepped in, his presence commanding immediate attention. 

He gave a nod to the guard, who stepped out, leaving you alone with the man who held your fate in his hands. A fucking lunatic with enough means to play for all the dramatics he enjoyed. Great.

"Get comfortable," Ward said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that set your nerves on edge. "We're almost there."

"Almost where?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"The Bahamas," he replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "A little slice of paradise, if you will."

"And what happens then?" you pressed, needing to know more.

Ward studied you for a moment, as if weighing how much to reveal. “Keep out of sight, stay quiet. Rafe and I have some business to attend to, and we can't afford any distractions."

"And if I refuse?" you challenged, though you knew the answer.

Ward's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Let's not be stupid, sweetheart. You're here because you know too much. Refusing isn't an option. Cooperation, however…”

A chill ran down your spine at his words. The stakes were clear, and you realized that your only chance was to play along, at least until you could figure out a way to escape this nightmare.

The rest of the day passed in a tense haze. Eventually, you felt the ship slow, the engines quieting as you approached your destination. When the door opened again, Rafe was there, his expression unreadable.

"Time to go," he said simply, motioning for you to follow, "Move."

You stepped out onto the deck, the warm, salty breeze hitting your face as you looked around. The sight of the lush, tropical landscape did little to ease your anxiety. You were led to a smaller boat, and soon you were speeding towards a secluded island, the main landmass of the Bahamas visible in the distance. This was a world away from the familiar streets and faces of The Cut. It was straight out of a postcard. Something you and JJ would fantasize about while high of your asses and writing bucklists. 

God, JJ. You only hoped he made it. You’d never gone a day without each other before you were dragged into this mess last summer. It wasn’t fair. You only wanted enough money to get by, an easy fix to get everything sorted, finish college, ship your dad somewhere far away from you two. But Ward’s greedy ass had to ruin everything for you. 

As the boat neared the shore, you couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. The island loomed closer, its pristine beaches and swaying palm trees offering a stark contrast to the danger that lurked just beneath the surface.

Rafe’s hand gripped your arm, his grasp tight and unyielding as he led you onto the sandy beach. Ward followed close behind, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene before him.

"This way," he said, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. You followed obediently, your mind racing with possibilities. Escape seemed unlikely, but you clung to the slim hope that you could find a way out of this mess. As you walked, you couldn't help but wonder what awaited you on this remote island.

The path led deeper into the heart of the island, the dense foliage casting long shadows as the sun began to set. You could feel the weight of Ward and Rafe's gazes on you, their presence a constant reminder of the mess you were in.

Finally, you reached a clearing, and your heart sank as you saw what awaited you. A small house. In the middle of nowhere. Oh god, you were a dead woman. 

“This will be your home for the time being," Ward said, his voice cold and unfeeling, as if he was offering you a vacation rental and not kidnapping you. You wanted to protest, to demand answers, but you knew it was futile, there was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, it practically swallow you whole. 

“My son will be keeping you company, don’t get too excited.” 

The way Rafe’s head snapped in his father’s direction told you more than what you needed to know. Once again, daddy dearest was calling the shots without taking his opinion into consideration. Ward’s casual cruelty was suffocating, a stark reminder of the power he wielded over everyone. As he turned to leave, leaving no space of negotiations or pleadings, Rafe’s eyes bored into yours. No questions asked, only blind devotion to his father. 

The door slammed shut, leaving you alone with Rafe once more. He looked at you, resentment playing across his face and something inside you urged you to fight. 

“I’m not going to make this easy for you," you said, your voice a low growl, “I’m not dying here. Not with you.” 

Rafe chuckled, greasy bangs moving as he shook his head, “You really think you have a choice here?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the confined space, “You think you’re special? Nah, Maybank. He’ll get rid of you eventually, don’t worry.”

“Exactly. He will, not you. You don’t have any control either and I think you hate being here as much as I do. That shit makes us both prisoners.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your words, “Stay out my fucking way or I’ll kill you myself.”

You were sure he wouldn't, only if Ward asked him to. He’d fucked up enough before, when he accidentally shot Sarah and didn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. You know he wouldn’t do it again, not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulder and his trust fund. Ward Cameron hated slips ups, hated even more the monster he raised, but he sure came in handy when he needed him. 

Rafe’s words hung in the air like a noose, but you refused to let them tighten around your neck. "Empty threats," you shot back, squaring your shoulders. "I've dealt with bigger monsters than you, Rafe."

For a moment, a flicker of doubt passed through his blue eyes. They were bloodshot red, perhaps from the lack of sleep or maybe because he was high off his mind, you didn’t care to ask. But just as quickly, his usual sneer returned. "Enjoy your stay, Maybank.”

With that, he turned and left the room. Him and the stupid slamming of doors. You were alone again, your pulse racing but your resolve intact. You had to get out of here. You knew it wouldn't be easy, but you were a Maybank—survival was in your blood. You took stock of your surroundings once more, this time with a sharper eye. The walls were thin, the windows barred, but there had to be some weakness, some way to exploit the situation. You ran your fingers along the seams of the walls, looking for anything that might give. Your mind raced through every piece of advice JJ had ever given you about breaking and entering. You’d done a lot of that over the years, and while most people thought you pogues were simply criminals, they never cared enough to ask why you and your brother spent so much time in and out of the sheriff’s department. 

So, what if two dirty, no-good kids were barely hanging on for dear life? No one gave a shit. 

Weeks blurred into each other, each one marked by the same routine. Rafe's visits, Ward's looming threats, and the endless search for an opportunity to escape. You watched Rafe carefully, noting his every move, his every interaction with Ward. You noticed the way Ward belittled him, treating him more like a tool than a son. It was a toxic dynamic, one that made you wonder if Rafe was as much a victim as you were. You’d seen bits and pieces before, but Sarah had described Ward as some sort of saint up until recently. Rafe on the other hand? Their dynamic was so different from what you were used to. You and JJ were like two peas in a pod, you’d die for him and you know he would do the same, no questions asked. If there was one good thing in your life, it was your brother. 

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for Rafe, despite everything he'd done. He was a product of his environment, molded by a father who saw him as nothing more than a means to an end. 

You saw the cracks in his armor, the moments of doubt and vulnerability. The way his hands would shake every time Ward raised his voice, the way he would bite his nails to hide the embarrassment booming in his cheeks. How he never walked into his father’s space or any other room without announcing his presence. It gave you whiplash. 

You began to argue less with him, your animosity slowly giving way to a grudging understanding. You hated feeling so…forgiving. This boy had done unspeakable things to you and your friends, to your family…and there you were. Feeling sorry for him like you didn’t know better. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small house, Rafe brought you dinner. He placed the plate on the table, his movements tense, his expression unusually subdued. Strangely so, you’d memorized that expression. You didn’t even have to ask to understand what had gotten under his skin. You watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Why do you let him treat you like that?" you asked, your voice softer than usual. You didn’t understand why you did it. You regretted the words the moment they came out of your lips, but there was something inside itching you to ask. 

Rafe's eyes snapped to yours, rage and something else—pain—flashing in them. "What the hell do you know about it?" he snapped, but there was less bite in his words. 

At this point he just sounded tired. 

"I understand,” you replied, thinking of your own father. "I know what it's like to want to prove yourself, to be more than what they think you are."

Rafe's jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the floor. For a moment, he looked lost, like a boy searching for something he could never find. "You don't know shit," he muttered, but there was no conviction in his voice.

"I know enough," you said quietly. "You don't have to keep doing this. You don't have to be his puppet."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You think it's that simple?"

"Maybe not. But you can choose to be better than him. You can choose to stop this.”

Rafe looked at you, really looked at you, for the first time. It was borderline unnerving. The weight of his stare. The way your stomach flip-flops under his attention. 

“Shut the fuck up and eat, Maybank."

But beneath it all, there was something else. Something you’d seen before, when you looked at yourself in the mirror after you took the biggest beating of your life and Luke finally got thrown into jail: hope. 

He didn't say anything, just turned and walked out, leaving you alone. 

Again. 

The days continued to pass, but something had shifted. Rafe was less hostile, more contemplative. He didn't treat you as roughly, didn't hurl as many insults. It was a small change, but it was there. And you began to see a way out, not just for yourself, but for Rafe too. You knew what he did, knew what he was capable of, but no one deserved to rot in hell with someone like Ward. You needed to bide your time, to wait for the right moment. And when that moment came, you had to be ready to act. 

Another day began with the same oppressive heat. The sun had just started to rise, casting a golden hue over the island. You were in the small kitchen of the house, preparing a meager breakfast from the limited supplies you had. The routine had become almost mechanical, a way to keep your mind occupied and stave off the rising panic.

Rafe entered the kitchen, eyes barely open as he wiped the sleep away. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the sound of the liquid hitting the glass breaking the silence. He stood with his back to you, staring out the window. 

“What’s Luke like?”

You froze, your hands pausing mid-motion. It was an unexpected question, one that cut deep and made you want to hurl on the spot even though you hadn’t had anything to eat yet. 

“Why do you want to know?" you asked cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

Rafe shrugged, still not turning to face you. "Just curious. You Maybanks are a tight bunch, right? So what's he like?"

Tight bunch…that was one way to put it. 

You took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to reveal. "He’s a drunk, a thief. But he's still my dad."

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing. "So why do you stick around? Why not just leave him?"

You knew what he was trying to do, giving you a taste of your own medicine. You couldn’t blame him. 

You met his gaze, the raw honesty of your answer surprising even you. "Because he's family. And sometimes, family is all you have. Even when they’re terrible, even when they hurt you, sometimes you can’t just walk away."

Rafe seemed to consider this, his expression unreadable. "Family's supposed to be everything, right?" His voice carried a bitter edge, hinting at his own unresolved conflicts.

"That's what they say," you replied quietly.

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving yours. "Must be tough, having a dad like that."

Tough? It’s heartbreaking. Knowing that the one person who was supposed to love you, cherish you and protect you for life never gave a single fuck about his kids? Yeah, sure it’s “tough”

You nodded, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Guess we have that in common.”

Rafe looked away, his jaw tightening. "Yeah, we do." He set his glass down with a heavy thud, the sound resonating in the small kitchen.

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, but then he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I get it," he said quietly. "More than you know."

You watched him, the way his fingers ran along the rim of the glass. "Then why do you keep doing this? You don’t have to."

His eyes blazed with anger. “It's not that simple," he snapped. "You think I have a choice? I killed someone. For him.” 

It was the first time he had said those words out loud. And it made him sick to his stomach. That he’d been scared and high enough to do something so reckless, just so they wouldn’t take away his dad. 

"We always have a choice," you countered, your voice firm. "Maybe not the best ones, but we can always choose to be better."

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression a tumult of emotions. Then he shook his head, turning away. "You don't know anything," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his words than before.

"I know enough," you said softly, watching his retreating back. "And so do you."

He paused at the doorway, his hand gripping the frame tightly. Without turning around, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the kitchen felt colder, but you knew you had reached him, even if just a little. And that gave you hope.

After that, Rafe’s visits were less frequent, and when he did come by, there was an uneasy tension between you both. You couldn't tell if it was the weight of your conversations or the sheer exhaustion of being trapped in this toxic cycle. Still, every interaction chipped away at the walls he'd built around himself, revealing glimpses of the person he might have been, had his life taken a different path.

Tonight, the air was still, the only sound was the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. You had been biding your time, watching for the perfect moment to make your escape. The house was quiet, Ward was gone and you hadn’t seen Rafe in two days. By now, you knew how the guards outside fell asleep before 2am like clockwork. 

You could it. 

This was your chance, and you couldn't afford to waste it.

You moved silently, slipping out of the small bedroom and into the hallway. Every creak of the wooden floorboards seemed to echo in the stillness, and you held your breath, praying you wouldn't be caught. The front door loomed ahead, your path to freedom. Your heart raced as you slowly turned the handle, wincing at the faint click that accompanied the action.

The night air hit you like a wave as you stepped outside, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had been your constant companion. You glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear, then made your way towards the small boat moored at the edge of the beach. The plan was simple: get to the boat, start the engine, and head for the main island where you could find help.

You kept low, moving quickly but cautiously, every step bringing you closer to your goal. The boat was within reach when a noise behind you made your blood run cold. 

The crunch of gravel underfoot was unmistakable. You turned sharply, and in the dim moonlight, the silhouette of one of the guards emerged from the shadows. The asshole who’d gotten you here in the first place. He was closer than you had anticipated. Your heart pounded, adrenaline surging through your veins as you broke into a sprint, abandoning stealth for speed.

"Stop!" the guard shouted, his voice carrying across the trees. You didn't dare look back, your eyes locked on the boat. A sharp crack split the night—a gunshot. You felt a searing pain in your arm, but you couldn't stop. You pushed through the pain, your goal now just a few yards away.

Another gunshot rang out, but you were too focused to determine where it landed. You reached the boat, hands trembling as you fumbled with the ropes. The pain in your arm intensified, but you forced yourself to keep moving. Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around. You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but he was stronger. He pulled you to the ground, pinning you down as he radioed for backup.

"Got her," he said into the radio, his breath hot against your ear. You tried to wriggle free, but his grip tightened. Moments later, two more guards arrived, hauling you to your feet and dragging you back towards the house.

Your mind raced the sting in your arm a painful reminder of your failed attempt. As they pulled you inside, the walls seemed to close in around you, your brief taste of freedom slipping away.

Moments felt like hours as you sat in the chair, the pain in your arm throbbing with each heartbeat. The quiet murmurs of the guards outside were interrupted by the heavy, hurried footsteps of someone approaching. The door flew open, and there stood Rafe, disheveled and wild-eyed, a gun clutched tightly in his hand.

“What the fuck is going on?” he barked, his voice a volatile mix of anger and confusion. His gaze scanned the room, landing on you. 

The sight of the blood staining your arm made his expression shift from bewilderment to fury.

He stormed towards you, his eyes blazing. “What happened?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous. Before you could answer, he whirled around to face the guards who had re-entered the room. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Rafe shouted, waving his gun erratically. “She’s bleeding! I try to sleep in peace and this is what I come back to?”

The guards exchanged nervous glances, shifting uncomfortably under Rafe’s glare. “She was trying to escape, Mr. Cameron,” one of them stammered. “We had to stop her.”

His expression twisted with rage. “So you fucking shot her?” His voice dripped with incredulity and disdain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? My father wants her in once piece.”

The guard who had caught you tried to explain, but Rafe cut him off. “Shut up. Just... shut up.” He turned back to you, his eyes softening slightly as he took in the sight of your injured arm. Or maybe the pain was making you delirious.

 “We need to get that cleaned up,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Without another word, he holstered his gun and gently took your uninjured arm, pulling you to your feet. The guards looked on, unsure of what to do or say. 

Rafe shot them a deadly look. “Get out,” he snapped. “Before I shoot you bitches myself.”

Once Ward’s men had left, Rafe's demeanor changed. His concern, which had briefly softened his striking features, hardened back into anger. He ran a hand through his long hair, pacing the small bathroom before finally stopping in front of you. His eyes were intense, burning with frustration.

He sneered at you, his voice dripping with disappointment and exasperation, "I thought you had some brains in that pretty little head of yours," he spat out, his frustration palpable. "What were you even thinking? Do you realize how close you came to getting yourself killed?"

You tried to speak, to defend yourself, but he didn't give you the chance. His words came fast, each one like a dagger aimed at my heart. "You could've died out there! A bullet barely missed you—do you even understand how lucky you are?"

His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes burning into yours. "I just don't get it. Do you think you're invincible? Because you're not. You're just..." He stopped himself, taking a deep breath as if trying to regain control of his temper. "You're just reckless," he continued, his voice quieter but still seething with anger. "You didn’t think about the consequences, about what it would do to..."

He trailed off, his attention faltering for a moment before snapping back to you. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between knocking you out cold and something else—maybe concern, maybe fear.

"Don't act like you give a shit about me," you called after him, your voice trembling with both pain and defiance.

He stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening for a moment before slowly turning to face you. The fury in his eyes was matched only by the bitterness in your own. "I don't," he retorted, his tone icy. "But my ass is on the line too. You think Ward won't come down on me if something happens to you?"

You stood up, despite the throbbing pain in your arm, facing him head-on. "So this is all about you, then? Your precious ass and how it looks to Ward? Typical Cameron bullshit, only caring about themselves."

Rafe's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "You don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice dangerously low. "You think this is easy for me? Keeping you safe, dealing with all this? It's not just about me. It's about keeping everything under control."

You scoff through your nose "Here we go again. Control? You think dragging me back here, shooting at me, is control? It's chaos, Rafe. You're just as trapped as I am, and you can't stand it."

His face twisted showcasing his wrath, and he took a step towards you, closing the distance. "Shut up!” he growled. "You don’t understand the pressure I'm under. The expectations, the demands. I didn’t ask for any of this."

"And neither did I," you shot back, a strict finger aimed at his face in warning, “So shut the fuck up.”

He took another step towards you, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think this is just about me? It's about keeping everything from falling apart. It's about—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer, your faces almost touching. "I don’t care about your excuses, Rafe. I don’t care about your pressures or your fucking control. All I know is I’m not staying here.”

The look he gave you was filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twisted into an expression of silent hatred. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. His hands came up, gripping your waist, not gently but not roughly either, as if he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

"You're impossible," he hissed, his voice a raw whisper.

"And you’re a coward," you shot back, your voice equally low but no less fierce.

The next moment happened in a blur. Rafe’s grip tightened, and before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. His mouth was demanding, almost punishing, and you responded, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer even as you wanted to push him away.

The kiss was rough and desperate, fueled by anger and frustration, a collision of two souls too damaged to recognize the depths of their own pain. And yet, beneath the layers of animosity and resentment, there was a spark—as if you were both too messed up to understand how much you needed each other. Each fingertip left an imprint, a silent declaration of the strength he was restraining. It was like he was fighting to contain this force within him, to keep it from overwhelming you both. 

If someone told you you’d be kissing Rafe fucking Cameron of all people just a month ago, you’d think they were crazy. And yet… All you wanted were his hands on your body, his warm skin against your own.

Oh his hands.

They roamed slowly yet purposefully over your lower back, over your waist. You breathed out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pulled him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes. 

He pulled away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinked down at you. You watched him lick his bottom lip, taking in the sight of you.

“’You’re bleeding—“

“Shut the fuck up.”

His eyes flared with renewed anger, but also with something else—something darker, more primal. Your words were like a match to gasoline. He didn't respond verbally; instead, he took a half step back before swooping you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly.

With a swift, decisive motion, Rafe carried you to the dining table, and you barely had time to register the cool wood against your back before he was on you again, his body pressing down on yours with a desperation that matched your own. There was no tenderness there, only raw need and a desire to consume. He pried your lips apart again, his tongue sweeping in as he kissed you deeply, his mouth moving invasively over yours. His fingers gripped your jaw with a vice-like hold. A strange sensation fluttered beneath your skin, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, closing the distance between your bodies as he pressed flush against your center.

His hands moved with such intent, slipping under your shirt, his fingers tracing every curve with a delicious blend of roughness and urgency. You reciprocated eagerly, your own hands tangling in his hair, urging him closer as your kiss deepened. Everything around you blurred as the room spun, his warmth against you making you breathless, his taste lingering on your lips, intoxicating and irresistible.

You tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons because you just couldn't wait. He let out that deep, sexy growl that made a shiver run down your spine. His hands were all over you, touching your skin and leaving fiery trails wherever they went. It felt like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, wanting to claim you in a way that words could never capture.

"You're impossible," he muttered against your lips, the words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. He leaned down closer to your collarbone, to catch the scent on your skin, and he couldn't tell if you were amused or annoyed from the way your cheeks rounded as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"And you’re an asshole,” you shot back, your voice breathless, your body arching into his touch.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours slightly "Drive me fucking crazy.”

"Good," you replied, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him down again. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But you didn't want control. You wanted to lose yourself in this moment, to forget everything you'd been trough and just feel.

Rafe seemed to sense this, his hands becoming more insistent, his touch more possessive. He lifted you slightly, positioning you better on the table, his body slotting perfectly between your legs. The friction was exquisite, a delicious tease that left you craving more.

"Rafe," you breathed, and he almost fell to his knees at the soft whimper that left your lips when he couldn’t help but jerk his hips forward. He responded instantly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he kissed you with a fervor that left you dizzy. The table creaked under your combined weight, but neither of you cared. Your hand grabbed his forearm, over the veins strained from his grip on you, your nails sinking into the skin exposed.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your eyes locking with his. There was a wildness there, a reflection of the storm inside you. You reached up, tracing his jaw with your fingers, feeling the stubble beneath your touch as his mouth, hot and demanding, left a trail of fire in its wake on your neck. A noise of pleasure slipped from your mouth as he palmed at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as his teeth grazed your collarbone, kissing down, littering your skin bite marks.

"I hate you," you panted, pouring as much venom into your words as possible. Your thighs tightened around his hips, feeling every inch of him against you. 

“Your body doesn’t,” He replies coldly, each syllable slowly drawn from his throat, "

“Fucking asshole.”

“Fucking brat.”

You opened your mouth to hiss something at him, to fight back, show him that you were the one in charge, but the intention died the moment Rafe cupped you through your shorts. A pathetic excuse of shorts due to the heat. Heat bloomed in your stomach, melting into a torrent want that flooded your skin and left you breathless. His determined blue eyes pierced into yours, watching as he pressed the heel of his palm against the apex of your thighs, his middle finger tracing your entrance and applying light pressure to the sensitive dip between your legs.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty?” He asked, lips brushing over your mouth, loose bangs brushing against your brow “Thought you had more fire in you.” he rasped coldly, moving your shorts and underwear out of the way and your lips parted on a sharp inhale as you felt him touch you for the first time, “Yeah, thought so.” 

Every nerve ending seemed to come alive under his hands, and the room around you blurred into insignificance. All that mattered was the man in front of you, his relentless grip on your senses, his unwavering control over your body.

"God, I hate you," you whispered again, the words almost a prayer, a futile attempt to cling to the anger that had fueled you for so long. But even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You hated how much you needed him, how much you craved his touch, his dominance. Perhaps you’d been locked away from society for too long. That was the only plausible reason for you to let Rafe Cameron touch you.

Rafe smirked, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes. "No, you don’t.” 

You did. At least you used to, everything’s confusing now.

He teased you, his touch light and teasing, drawing out your frustration, your need. "Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice a seductive growl that made your heart race.

You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. But the need was overwhelming, a fierce ache that demanded release. 

“Fuck you," you spat, your defiance crumbling under the weight of your desire.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers finally slipping inside you, curling and stroking in a way that made your hips buck against his hand. "That's right," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Let me hear you."

A broken moan escaped your lips, and you arched into his touch, your body writhing with need. His fingers moved expertly, finding all the right spots, driving you near the edge with a skill that left you breathless. Every touch, every stroke was designed to push you closer to the brink, to break you down until you were nothing but a trembling, pleading mess.

"Rafe, please," you finally gasped, the words ripped from your throat by the overwhelming pleasure. "Please, I need you."

His smirk widened, and he pulled his fingers away, making you whimper in frustration. He didn't make you wait long, though. With swift, practiced movements, he freed himself from his pants, the sight of him hard and ready making your mouth water. 

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his pretty cock teasing your entrance. "You ready for me?" he asked, his voice a rough whisper that made your heart skip a beat. 

You nodded, your eyes locking with his, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please, Rafe."

He didn't need any further encouragement. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that made you cry out. Your back arched involuntarily, your lips parting as he entered you, filling you completely in a way you had never imagined.

He rolled his hips firmly against yours, and your head tipped back as his cock rubs perfectly against you. You’d never felt so full. He didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. After another firm roll of his hips, testing you out, figuring out his rhythm. His movements were hard and relentless, pounding into you, knocking the breath from your lungs with each forceful thrust, barely giving you time to adjust. 

You clung to him, your nails digging into his muscular back, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The table creaked and groaned beneath you, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the man above you, his relentless drive, his unwavering control. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. You could feel him losing control, his need matching your own. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, blocking him out so you could pretend you weren’t stupid enough to let the man that ruined your life fuck the living hell out of you.

"Eyes on me,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me see you.”

Even though you really wanted to shut him out, you just couldn’t fight the crazy pull he had over you. His voice was like a force of nature. You opened your eyes and locked onto his intense gaze. Seeing him above you, his face twisted with raw need and determination sent chills down your spine. His eyes were locked onto yours, filled with this dark, unyielding intensity that left you totally breathless. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval and something deeper, something that made your heart race even more. It made you want to run for the hills, "Fucki—Oh, fuck"

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. The pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that left you gasping, moaning, begging for more. His name slipped from your lips in a broken, desperate plea, and he answered with a renewed vigor, his movements becoming more frenzied, more primal.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice rough and strained. "You're so tight... feels so fucking good."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Your entire world had narrowed to this moment, to the feel of him inside you, to the overwhelming pleasure that consumed you. Your body arched beneath him, your nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that would undoubtedly linger.

"Rafe," you whimpered, the sound barely more than a breath. "I'm... I can't..."

He understood. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming almost brutal in their intensity. "Come for me," he commanded his voice a raw whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go."

His words pushed you over the edge, and you came with a scream, your body convulsing around him. The intensity of your release was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that left you trembling and breathless.

Rafe followed you over the edge, his own release crashing through him with a force that left him shaking. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rode out his orgasm, his movements slowing until he finally stilled, still buried deep inside you.

For a moment, everything was still, the only sound the ragged breaths but then Rafe lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, there was something almost tender in his gaze. 

“Y-You—“ He sighed, pausing, “Don’t pull that shit again. I’ll get you out, okay? 

“Rafe...“

Before you could process his words, before you could question or argue, his lips were on yours again. Differently this time. Gentle. 

Devastating almost. 

“You’re still bleeding Maybank.”

Rafe’s words snapped you back to reality, the pain in your arm a sharp reminder of your injury. The moment of vulnerability between you evaporated, leaving you with the stark realization of your situation. You pushed at his chest, forcing him to back off slightly, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Then do something about it."

He just stood there, staring at you as if he had never seen you before. As if he was truly seeing you for the first time despite having known you since you were seven, despite all the moments marked by violence and terror. And you hated every second of it because your heart was practically leaping out of your chest. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

And then he simply shook his head, drew closer again, resting his forehead against yours, hands back on your thighs, fingers pressing as if he needed to ensure that you were real, that everything was real.

“We’re getting out.”

You wanted to believe in him more than anything. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered, “Yeah?"

“Yeah, pretty Maybank. You and me."

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

[skunkes]

if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

[nexus-nebulae]

me as a kid: i have all these problems

every adult around me: you're not old enough to know what's wrong with you, you're fine

me as an adult: i still have all these problems

my doctors after i finally got the opportunity to choose them myself: oh my fucking god why have you never gotten help for all these problems. you should have seen me 10 years ago

[feroshgirlsims]

ooohh yeah, maybe bc I am coming from WordPress, I have a skewed view, but like, even when one person comments on my story, it makes me feel as if I should be giving a speech at the Oscars 😂

I'm still learning Tumblr (god, my navigation is a WIP), but real talk, I'm here because this is my hyperfixation, and it makes me feel good to be around other lil babies who are equally obsessed. I'm making my story work, even tho is it is long-form and prolly not the traditional Tumblr vibe. And I don't know...idc about the number of likes?

It's nice to know people are reading or liking things I make (yay to ppl who read my stuff. I love you), but a) I am sure I make more content than any single person can possibly consume, and b) I get what it feels like to love a thing but not have enough spoons to write a thoughtful comment.

I like being here. I'm happy being here. I made a decision a long time ago that I had to make things for myself or else I was going to lose my mind. So this simblr is for me; it's lovely y'all are here, and however y'all engage is dope.

TBH, my main writing partner is my cat, and she is rude as hell, so anything is an improvement over that, lol

(jk I have some lovely peeps on Discord that make me feel seen, and they fill my heart and also ensure that I have a good murder-to-romance ratio in my stories)

My simblr TBR is absolutely out of control, but if you have a story I should read, pls comment so I can add it to the list. I feel like I'm gonna need a lot of um "content" to help me through the next 4 years.

I've been seeing alot of people felling discouraged from simblr and feeling like they don't belong

Especially when there is alot of posts going around telling you not to focus on popularity etc

But im here to tell you ITS NOT YOU

You did nothing worng you do infact belong here its not your fault people in this community are not interactive (and yes its just this community im in two other fandom spaces and they work just fine people here are the outlier)

And my proof that its not your fault?

I have 3200 follower (all real people i removed the bots myself)

So you would think i would get alot of notes and feel included right?

WRONG

3k+ followers and this year the most notes i got on any non cc post i made was 15 and on cc posts it was 56

The only post that got alot of notes all year was my simblreen treats post and you would think with 3k people watching it would be 1000 notes or something but no last time i checked it was barely over 100

There are like 3 people that occasionally talk to me sometimes on my posts lol (very thankful i know no one owes me anything)

And i have had this blog for 6+ years

My point is

You belong just fine and i personally am happy you are here

Its not your fault people are being stubborn and refusing to reblog on the reblog website

(imma be real with you if i owened this website im removing the like option this is the reblog website you don't need to only like stuff but i dont own it so 🤷‍♂️)

[carcarrot]

well that was a shortlived good feeling about my job

[luluy33art]

Chloe's Second Chance AU

(ik I'm so creative with names)

A 24-year-old Chloe returns to her 13-year-old body a few days before the events of the show

She is a way more mature Chloe who learned from her mistakes after going to therapy (and after being exiled to New York and becoming independent from Audrey)

She considers New York her true home cuz she never felt truly loved in Paris

After getting better, she was able to be friends with Adrien again, but their relationship was never the same

She had many part-time jobs to be able to survive without Audrey's help

WHEN SHE RETURNS

She freaks out the first few hours and desperately searches for a way to come back home, but after calming down a bit, she sees this as an opportunity to apologize, she still looks for a way to come back tho

She want to go back cuz she doesn't want to go through everything with her shitty family again (being humiliated by Audrey, being traded by the parent who thought he loved her for her half-sister who doesn't even share blood with him, being exiled by him...)

Chloé plans to apologize to everyone, but the priority is Marinette (because she was the one she treated the worst) and she decides it with a apology letter. After finishing the letter she receives a message from Adrien

ADRIEN

He thanks Chloé for persuading his father and says if he goes to school, it will be thanks to her. Chloé sends him a message that she is 100% sure that he will succeed. But she also tells him he doesn't need to be with her all the time anymore and suggest to pretend they don't know each other, feeling guilty about his rough start at school bc he was friend with her.

Adrien is confused and thinks Chloé doesn't want to be friends anymore, despite all the messages, Chloe doesn't answer him anymore. Adrien despairs wondering what happened and has deja vu, feeling abandoned again (mommy issues) his determination to go to school becomes 10 times more intense to find out what happened with Chloe

Adrien still helps Fu, but he's more stubborn this time and pushes Nathalie's hand away, which distracts Gorilla so that he can actually go on the first day this time

He hugs Chloé, causing a scene. When asked if they are a couple, Chloé firmly says they are just friends

She said it firmly and without hesitation. Adrien feels a lump in his throat, but he wonders why, obviously they are friends and always have been so why does it feel so painful?

That's because he recently felt for the first time that he could actually lose Chloe, that friend who was there since he was practically born. Added to the fact that he had recently lost another important person (Emilie) makes him become a little possessive of Chloe

...

Cloe: Are you sure? I still feel that it will be difficult for you to get along with the others if they know that you are my friend...

Adrien: As I said I don't need a friend who doesn't like you

....

Marinette: Are you friends with Chloe? 

Adrien noticed Marinette's obvious dislike towards her friend, he frowns 

A: You know what? Nevermind

He turns around, angry, knowing that Marinette is one of those people he won't become friends with. And Marinette just rolls her eyes 

ALYA

Chloé avoids Marinette and is surprised when Alya greets her enthusiastically. Chloé freaks out at the sudden greeting, wondering why Alya is sitting next to her then she realizes the consequences of not fighting for the seat and tries to pair Alya and Marinette, but Alya is more interested in talking about superheroes.

Chloé, a secret superhero fan (influenced by Adrien when he showed her the magical girls in the anime, but since it wasn't appropriate for a daughter of a politician, she repressed that taste, but after being exiled she didn't have to hide it anymore), bonds with Alya over their shared interest.

Chloé feels guilty for taking Marinette's precious friend but decides to keep Alya as her seatmate since Alya is new she doesn't know about all the bad things she did and it's refreshing to have someone who doesn't avoid her or isn't afraid of her 

Since Chloe never put the gum, Mari doesn't fall in love with Adrien, but she still doesn't like Adrien cuz he's Chloe's friend

Chloé realizes too late the consequences of not putting the gum (Adrien from the future told her) Chloé has no idea how to fix it and doesn't want to put the gum in again either, but she makes herself believe that maybe it's for the best, it doesn't make their first meeting so unpleasant and surely in the future there will be more opportunities for Mari to fall in love with Adrien! (Adrien told her many of their romantic events)

Obviously mari never fell in love with Adrien 

MARINETTE

Marinette receives a letter from Chloé before the first day of school, that letter doesn't let her sleep causing her anxiety.

On the first day, Chloé looks at Marinette sitting in her seat, deliberately avoiding her and passing her by without even looking at her (Mari stares at her expecting her to tease her, but is surprised when she ignores her and wonders if the letter was real, shakes her head dismissing it and "it's probably a trap")

Umbrella scene 

Marinette confronts Chloé about the letter, saying what the hell does this mean 

Chloé blushes saying that it's an apology letter, but Mari doesn't believe her at all

Chloé assures her that it's not true and begins to explain 

C: The reason why I've bothered you so much even more than the others is because I was jealous of you 

M: Jealous? But you're Chloe Bourgeois! The girl who has everything! 

C: Not everything-she said with a sad smile- you have friends who love and support you and a wonderful family that believes in you. My mom abandoned me when I was 5 and my dad sees me as nothing more than a political tool 

Marinette stares at her not knowing what to say 

C: I know that's no excuse for everything I put you through and I understand if you don't want to forgive me but you deserve an apology and an explanation. I'm truly sorry Marinette

M: I-I don't know if I can forgive you, I have to think about it 

C: Fair, although could you accept my umbrella? My limo is right in front so I won't get wet 

Marinette cautiously accepts the umbrella and a clap of thunder sounds at that moment making her heart beat faster causing the umbrella to close suddenly, Chloé laughs before she can help it and apologizes 

C: I'm sorry I didn't mean to make fun of you! It was just something very sudden and- 

M: Haha it's okay, I admit that it was kind of funny 

Cloe smiles at her in relief 

C: See you tomorrow Dupain Cheng -she says before getting into the limo- 

M: A-aha s-see you, why am I stuttering?

AUDREY

Audrey comes back way more earlier bc of Chloe's new behavior (maybe André asked her for help, but I honestly don't think Audrey will listen to him, although that might just get her interest a little) 

So Audrey becomes Style Queen earlier and Marinette is sent by the lucky charm to Master Fu (maybe this happens before Tikki gets sick so it would be the first time she meets the guardian) 

Fu doesn't let Marinette choose the holder this time because he doesn't know her as well as in the series, he suddenly remembers when Chloe helped him on the first day of school and tells Marinette that he will choose the new holder of the bee himself 

Chloé is very confused as to why the miraculous was found somewhere else, but she doesn't think much about it in order to help LB and CN quickly 

Once they win, QB tries to LB returns the Miraculous to LB but LB panics saying not to reveal her identity 

QB is very confused and LB explains to her that she has been chosen 

QB asks her confused if she doesn't know her identity and LB tells her no. She also asks if this is permanent or temporary. (I don't know if LB knows that, either way, if it's just temporary the Guardian will contact her to return it) 

QB agrees and leaves and yes it was temporary (I still don't know how she would return it, maybe Fu disguises himself?)

But Pollen is very sad and tries to convince Fu to make her a permanent hero, flattering her for everything 

Pollen: she is the best Queen Bee I have seen, she is very strong, she is very mature for her age, she is very intelligent and cunning, she knows how to do everything (because of her jobs in her past life) (Basically she is Tikki 2.0)

Pollen does this every time a new Akuma appears 

Someone gets Akumatized 

Pollen: Do you know who could help LB and CN to resolve this quickly? Queen Bee~ 

Fu is a little tired, but I find it somewhat endearing and also understands that kwamis want to go out more

Relations Situation

Chloe likes LB

Marinette likes Chloe (she's in denial but Tikki knows better)

Adrien likes Chloe

Adrien and Marinette hate each other

LB only sees QB as a good friend

Sabrina hates Alya (explained in kofi)

Chloe sees Adrien as a friend/sibling

Chloe doesn't know LB or CN identities

If you want to know more all the lore is available in my kofi! (I'll probably post there new AU ideas and art in the future so stay tuned ^^)

Cooking a new AU rn

[backpackingspace]

How does one even go about having feelings about escaping being murdered?

[vimbry]

me and the work girlies having socialist convos at the end of the day

[dbphantom]

you know if you guys voted for stretch armstrong i probably would have shut up a lot sooner tonight

[slippery-minghus]

hmm. had an actual conversation with nightmare coworker today that seemed mutually productive. she apologized for saying some bullshit that hurt my feelings and i clarified that my intentions are to help not to undermine her, and we both agreed that there's no competition against each other and that it's the lack of growth in our role that's the problem. it was...productive.

and further cementing for me that it is time to begin making my Exit. i will be sending out my resume to a few places this weekend.

i'm still processing the conversation, and am struggling to place myself in where i am responsible to better my behavior. because i genuinely don't want to be an ass, even though i really don't like this lady and will jump for joy the day i never have to see her again. she stated that she knows my intentions aren't to hurt her, and that she thinks i'm very kind. i apologized for if my behavior came off as undermining her, and said that my intentions are only to better my own growth—and that i know she's trying to succeed too. i validated her feelings, and complemented the effort she is putting in.

where i'm struggling with is: am i in the wrong/causing harm and needing to change if the issue is that her feelings are incongruent with what she knows of my intentions? her feelings are her responsibility (WOW i almost typed "her feelings are my responsibility". i feel like that's a freudian slip) and she states that she knows i don't mean to hurt her. i'm going to try to be more clear in wording my intentions with her (she feels like me trying to take work off her plate is to undermine her. when really, i'm caught up and see her getting overwhelmed, and i want to help and also have something to do since i'm bored).

but i'm really struggling to look at my role in this and pass judgement on myself. i can and want to do better, and i don't think i did anything wrong, but i'm always so hesitant to say it's not my fault or i didn't do something bad. like i can't trust my judgement on that. my intentions were good, her bad feelings are ones caused by her insecurities, which she more or less has expressed to be aware that they are not true—the hurtful thing she said to me, she acknowledged was said out of hurt and not what she actually thinks. so, is it fair to say i'm not the bad guy? i'm not in the wrong? i know good intentions that still result in harm don't absolve anyone, but when the things that are clashing are insufficient communication and reactive insecurities... i'm not a monster, am i?

[february-academia]

28.04.2023

So much happened this week. (In tags I'll rant about it)

N4 is coming and my prep is not at all good. Took a test today and i failed🥲. But i know my prep is soo bad,it was bound to happen. So have to study for that.

College exams are coming🥹 also have to study for that. The dissertation proposal is in the finalising stage,so that's good. But have to work on it properly imo.

Then i also proposed another research study to my professor and he has encouraged me to go for it. So,also have to work on it.

These very cutu plants in the scorching heat were a treat to eyes and mind.

Got this book from the library and I'm really enjoying reading the essays.

( correction in a tag- she scored less than me in class and she was all sad sad. With her i had to suppress my happiness at moments like these)

[lord-squiggletits]

I think one of my least favorite takes on Optimus annexing Earth is the surprisingly common opinion "he should've just left Earth alone and minded his own business because they didn't ask for help," not because it doesn't have truth in it but because it's a massive oversimplification of the whole situation and seems to pretend that Optimus annexing Earth was just completely stupid and had no reasoning whatsoever.

Like, it just bothers me when people talk about it as if Optimus leaving Earth alone would've been the not-bad-guy thing to do despite the fact that the Decepticons were literally about to try colonizing Earth again under the command of a guy who was literally from the Golden Age generation that made colonizing and genociding organics popular, Galvatron. I mean Galvatron was literally there saying "so when are we going to kill these fleshlings" and even being a Functionist asshole to Soundwave's cassettes. The last time the Decepticons invaded Earth in All Hail Megatron they killed literally a billion human beings. Are there seriously people in this fandom that are out there believing with their whole ass that "Optimus should've just ignored the openly genocidal Decepticons returning to a place they had already tried to colonize just a few years ago because it's none of his business and the humans can handle themselves" like what.