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megamindsecretlair · 3 days ago

Text

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for.

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries?

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex?

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit.

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time?

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate.

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan.

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors.

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent.

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner.

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad.

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief.

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend?

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it.

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest.

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice.

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not?

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes.

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit.

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body.

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy.

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you.

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing.

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun.

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks.

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic?

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off.

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut.

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath.

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed.

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box.

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick.

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia.

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits.

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies.

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire.

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out.

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said.

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said.

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?”

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips.

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes.

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said.

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser?

It was impossible. Hopeless.

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn?

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release?

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said.

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body.

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro.

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again.

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question.

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said.

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man.

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute.

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall.

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted.

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell.

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them.

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands.

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal.

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it?

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent.

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas.

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside.

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with.

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face.

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring.

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered.

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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i know this gonna break my heart... sigh... taking deep breaths... let's go ⬇️

It was almost easy, something he wouldn’t have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. There’d been a time when he was just too much—angry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.

first and foremost, i love the characterization of rafe. something about ur interpretation of him feels so lively and real, especially because it relates to his canon. when i was reading thru his thoughts, i was like, woah, rafe would act this way.

He’d been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see who’d blow up first. You’d pushed him away, he’d pushed you harder, and you’d both crossed lines that should’ve never even been close.

i love the line throwing grenades, waiting for who to blow up first. ur metaphors have always been some of my favorites, so i always love highlighting and pointing it out <3

Rafe didn’t know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? He’d done it before with his mom, now it was his dad’s turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasn’t pretty.

i love the turn of internal conflict, that rafe - who has always been loyal as a dog to ward - can have his own conflicting emotions about his father

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect. To Rafe, that meant something. Everything

but at the end of the day, rafe recognizes that he has to set his father on a pedestal because that's all he's ever done. all he'll ever do.

At first, it was subtle—small things. He’d catch you looking at him like you didn’t quite get him anymore. You’d pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.

that actually hurts, the idea that you're dissociating, going somewhere where he can't follow u? oh the miseryyy

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the most—knowing he’d never get the approval he’d always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that.

i love u pointing out the validation-seeking 🙂‍↕️

Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch he’d stolen right out of his dad’s stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasn’t it?

this is such a bitter moment, but it's also shows how rafe just reverts back to his younger self in the presence of his father. that even if ward's death, he will continue to haunt the narrative. also, "shit, that was something, wasn't it?" was such a bitter realization.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

HE SAW HIS FATHER

Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.

i love the depiction of seeing rafe as nothing more than a prop, an entertainment for the rest of the kooks. it gives u this zoo-like viewing of rafe rather than human.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

he's so protective over his father

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

I LOVE HER FOR THIS SOMETHING ABOUT THIS OWNS MY HEART

You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, “Don’t I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. You’re so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that you’re pushing the people who care about you away. It’s not just me. It’s everyone.”

she's real and she should speak on it

“Don’t you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,” you retaliated, stepping up beside him. “I stood by you through all of it, I’m not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. He’s the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why you’re always trying to prove yourself to people who don’t deserve it. And now he’s gone, and you still can’t see it. You’re still trying to be good enough for him!”

i love her but god that must've hurt

His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didn’t care. “So now I’m blind, huh? I didn’t see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didn’t notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? You’re just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.”

i love that he only picked up the things that he hears, not the fact that he's blind to see it, but rather accusing him of being "dumb"

he has such self-destructive tendencies omg

“Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make this about me,” he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. “You don’t get to make me the villain in your story just because you’re tired of playing my fucking hero.”

i love their arguments so much, because it's so bitter, and resentful, and sharp and it cuts so deep. that's one of my favorite things about this series, is when they're talking, they're going all in

That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topper’s. He’d seen that wild look in your eyes before—the one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dad’s gala came around, and he couldn’t sleep properly knowing he wasn’t going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.

SOMETHINGS WRONG GO HELP HER

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?

my favorite line

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

he's hurt too (but he's a dick) but he's hurt too 🥹

He had no reason to stay, you’d made it clear as day. He was supposed to be gone—out of your life for good. You’d told him you didn’t need him, he told you he didn’t need you. So why the hell was he still standing here?

i love the lingering love, especially because i believe rafe to be the type of person who cannot mourn loss whatsoever, he keeps it in his chest forever, when he loves someone, he'll love them forever

“I don’t think that’s the problem,” she murmured, with a knowing sadness. “I think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. He’s still hurting from dad’s passing, he’s angry because he doesn’t know how to stop loving you. And you—you’re here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. You’re scared he doesn’t care anymore, and he’s scared you don’t need him at all."

ONE OF THE BANGER LINES OF THIS PART AHHH

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

oooo i love this, sometimes i be forgetting they're toxic.

💌 — i love love their argument in this one. i love how u manage to capture rafe's essence with this characterization, especially post-ward, because i often don't read a lot of fics with ward being a dead presence but haunting the narrative. and that make rafe's viewpoint so conflicting, especially since he's trying to grieve but come to terms on who his father is. i absolutely love how u build up to their breaking point, because they have all these things festering under the surface that neither are willing to talk about until someone breaks, and that's how their relationship dynamic is. every time we get to see an insider scope of rafe's head, i am amazed, because the way he analyzes things, flowing from one thought to the next, makes sense. he's insecure, he's grieving, he's angry, and all of these emotions are hitting him at full-force and no one is allowing him the proper space to actually deal with them—especially because ward never did. and when their argument was just bitter shots at one another, just to hurt each other, you know it hurt. oh oh, gigi, u amaze and fascinate me so much!!

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SIX

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care; drug and alcohol addiction;

Rafe had been clean for the past three years.

Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing.

Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. You’d gotten better at letting each other breathe. He’d pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and you’d do the same.

It wasn’t perfect; sometimes you’d still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours.

Until Ward died.

Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didn’t always show it the way others might expect. But that’s the thing, he was a man of respect.

To Rafe, that meant something. Everything.

Ward had shaped him, he couldn’t just forget that, couldn’t act like that wasn’t important.

At first, you were there for him, no question.

He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didn’t spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didn’t always know how to ask for it.

You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.

He pretended he didn’t sense it, tried to tell himself you’d come around.

After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to him—maybe not in the way you thought he should’ve been, but that was just the reality of it.

For the first time in years, it felt like you weren’t there with him. It didn’t make sense to him how you couldn’t see it.

Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didn’t always come wrapped in the right way.

He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.

He’d had people telling him he wouldn’t make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didn’t think he’d get this far. Only you.

Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dad’s old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.

After the whole “funeral”, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.

If you’re so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat.

It wasn’t like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didn’t care if it broke him apart.

This was different, a slower, quieter process.

Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.

So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldn’t, if they’d just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that?

He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didn’t care.

Every time he saw himself— on a window, mirror, whatever—he had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.

Grounded.

Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.

You watched him—really watched him—and yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didn’t say anything.

Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.

She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated that—God, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.

But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.

He probably shouldn’t have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal again—even if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel it—the way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.

“Guess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldn’t buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people don’t just take bribes? Practically killed himself.”

It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.

“You got something you want to say to my fuckin’ face?”

The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thing—they were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.

It didn’t matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his father’s name was rolling off this nobody’s lips.

He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you weren’t letting go.

“You’re gonna waste your time on him?”

Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didn’t give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face.

“Get out. Now,” you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didn’t want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “Rafe. Now.”

You were mad at him.

It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.

“And you,” you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. “Keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogue’s smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your family’s name always had an impact around town, old money and all.

As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didn’t need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldn’t seem to avoid.

His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldn’t even look at you, not with how angry he felt.

By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you.

You were there, right behind him with that look on your face—angry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didn’t get it.

He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snapped.

“My problem?” you scoffed head already shaking, “Are you serious?”

“You don’t get it,” he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shame—everything. “You don’t know a fuckin’ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.”

Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.

He didn’t look at you, didn’t want to see the indignation—or worse, the pity—in your eyes.

“Just stop,” he muttered, but you were past listening.

“No, I won’t stop. I can’t. I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself again. You’re better than this.”

He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.

“You don’t get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.”

“I know what you deserve.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he sneered. “Think you know what’s best for me? Get off your high horse.”

“You’re damn fucking right I know better than you do, I’m not the one who’s drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

He could feel it now, the bitterness you’d been hiding for weeks. It wasn’t just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everything—every fucking thing you’d been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.

“You’re the one who’s just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.”

You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didn’t flinch.

“What?” Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, “You think I’m tired of you? I’ve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you won’t even look at me. You won’t let me in. You’re too fucking blind to notice.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it! I didn’t need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, you—" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"

You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.

“I’ve been here. I’ve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didn’t walk away. You did.

His stomach churned, as if you’d taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadn’t even seen how far you’d already gone.

“I’m not trying to play the hero!” you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. “I’m trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if you’re so fucking broken you can’t see that, then maybe you really don’t need me.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldn’t stop.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.

He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.

“Maybe I don’t. Grab your shit and go.”

"Don’t you fucking—" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, “You know what? Fine. Maybe I will.” You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. “Don’t come running back in two days like you always do. Don’t come crawling back.”

Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t look back at you.

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”

“Good. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,” you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. “What I feel now? That’s just disappointment.”

You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didn’t turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.

That was it.

Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.

He’d told himself he’d stay away, make it easy for both of you.

He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.

He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that he’d moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you weren’t meant for each other.

But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?

No, no, no.

Sofia was what he needed.

Someone who didn’t know shit about his past, who didn’t ask questions he didn’t want to answer. She hadn’t seen him the way you had, hadn’t been there through every drunken rant and punch he’d thrown at the wall or someone’s face, hadn’t heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights.

She hadn’t called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his father’s ashes on the ocean. She wasn’t going to call him a coward for it. She didn’t have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.

He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.

It was over between you two. He’d make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didn’t give you enough closure, you’d hate him faster and you’d both get over it.

So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John B’s beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

Of course you’d call her, his own sister—his father's favorite.

Sarah had always been the golden child, Ward’s little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, you’d picked her, just like Ward would have.

He didn’t think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.

Sarah didn’t back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her.

“I’m here because she called me.”

“She called you?” He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. “You? She called you?” He took a step closer, “So what, you’re her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if I’m right here?” His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldn’t believe it. “Are you kidding me?”

Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.

“Are you dense, Rafe? You’re with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?”

He blinked, thrown off. “I broke her heart? She broke mine!” He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. “I did us a favor. We were just—”

“Oh, right. A favor?” Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That why you’re pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?”

“Go away. I’m driving her home.”

She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.

“No. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.”

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, “She already hates me, Sarah. What’s the fucking harm, huh?” He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. “What’s one more screw-up on top of everything else?”

“You’re real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. You’ll just prove her right.”

He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldn’t even begin to understand.

But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.

“Walk away,” she warned him, looking over her shoulder, “That’s the only thing left for you to do right now.”

Rafe didn’t know why the fuck he listened to her.

It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didn’t leave right then, he’d end up doing something stupid—something even more fucked up than what he’d already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came.

His feet wouldn’t move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldn’t let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.

Hated that he just…felt like something was wrong.

You hadn’t been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didn’t want to remember that night—you damn near threw yourself out of his truck.

But he couldn’t ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.

He’d felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldn’t fix but couldn’t let go of either. He’d seen it again in your eyes when he’d caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way you’d tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital.

Rafe still felt like he’d swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe he’d start to forget you.

His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like before…He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.

Perhaps because he remembered the last time he’d let you walk out, the way he’d watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thing—giving you the clean end you’d both needed.

Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldn’t say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.

But you’d called her, not him. You’d picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what he’d asked for, wasn’t it?

This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.

He’d impulsively made his choice the minute he’d wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone who’d once known he was yours. He’d talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system.

He was the one who decided it’d be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easy—pain-free.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.

If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, he’d just be right back where he started.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet under—the need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.

He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather you’d help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.

He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him.

You’ll just prove her right.

He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push.

As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topper’s house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topper’s sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.

He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.

"Wake the fuck up."

He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. “Jesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?”

But Rafe didn’t answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didn’t even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.

“What the hell happened?”

Finally, he stopped, “I need you to find out what’s wrong with your cousin,” he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.

Topper blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean, what’s wrong with her?”

Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “I don’t know, okay? She just…she’s acting off. And I can’t—I’m not supposed to care, Top. I’m not. I’m with Sofia now, alright? But she’s still…” His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.

Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.

“Right, yeah, whatever you say. I’ll figure it out.”

If Sarah Cameron didn’t walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, you’d lose all the courage you’d summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm.

Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wished—desperately—that you didn’t feel so…empty.

Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.

She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.

“Hi.”

You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?”

You felt a laugh bubble up, “Not even a little.”

She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. “I figured,” she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didn’t pretend to have some miracle answer, “I made him leave.”

She’d made him leave.

You could imagine his face distorted with anger.

You wondered if he’d put up a fight or if he’d just walked away, giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence he’d perfected.

You weren’t going to ask, the less you knew, the better.

“Good.” You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, “I didn’t want him here.”

Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.

You’d been telling yourself for so long that you didn’t need him—that you didn’t want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting… God, you hated yourself.

Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasn’t anger or flat-out ignoring you.

“He threw a hissy fight, but don’t worry. He’s not coming back.”

You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, “He never listens.”

“Especially when it matters,” Sarah added, rolling her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.”

You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemed…hurt. Like he wanted to fix something he’d already smashed to pieces.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

She respected that—she wouldn’t insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didn’t need to go there right now. She could tell.

"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?”

There wasn’t any judgment in her tone—just plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, you’d be asking the same thing.

You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadn’t planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.

Not like this, with the IV in your arm.

"I—" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I don’t trust him with this.”

This.

You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside.

“He’s too close. He wouldn’t get it. I needed someone who could just… not be involved, you know? I mean—You’re still his sister but—”

Sarah’s already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, “Sweet girl, you don’t have to explain your reasons to me. I’m listening either way. I don’t know what’s going on, but I get it, I understand why you’d want to keep him out of this.”

“You’re the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,” you confessed, “If anyone finds out—if Rafe finds out—it’s over. I’m not ready for that.”

A shadow crossed Sarah’s face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t ask questions about what you meant—about how Rafe had ruined things before. She didn’t need to.

“I won’t tell him,” Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. “It’s safe with me. I’ve got your back.”

You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.

This was hard, harder than anything you’d ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it would change everything between you—between you and her, and you and everyone else.

"Sara, I—" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldn’t breathe.

Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didn’t know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.

“Are you—" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.

"Just… just let me tell you,” You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. “I-I’m pregnant,” you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.

But it didn’t.

You didn’t dare look at Sarah right away.

Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didn’t need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation.

Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

“Rafe’s?” she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.

You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

“God,” Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"

You nodded again. She wasn’t asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.

“I don’t want this,” you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. “I can’t have it, Sarah. I can’t. I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I don’t know what to do."

“I’m here. Whatever you need, however you need to do this—I’m here,” she promised, making sure you wouldn’t float away.

“I can’t… I just… I don’t want him to find out,” you managed between shallow breaths. “If he knew, he’d… I don’t know what he’d do. Maybe it’s stupid, but I don’t want him to look at me like… like he owns me something.”

Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, “He won’t know a thing from me, I swear. He’ll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one else’s.”

You didn’t know you’d been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.

“Thank you. I just… I didn’t know who else I could ask.”

“Hey,” she said, her voice gentle. “This? This is exactly what I’m here for. I’ve got you, no matter what.”

The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.

“New Mexico’s clinic rules… they won’t let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.” You took a shaky breath. “I can’t imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.”

“Then I’ll be there,” she said, without hesitation. “I’ll get the tickets, we’ll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you don’t have to keep any of this in anymore.”

Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitude— “You’re really… You’d really do this for me?”

“Of course,” she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. “Sweet girl, I’d do this a thousand times over.”

“I mean—he’s your brother. I don’t want to mess things up between you two even more.”

She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like she’d been waiting for you to say that. “You think he’s my priority right now? Don’t you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, I’m used to it.”

“He might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on you…” You couldn’t finish.

“Listen to me,” she sighed, “I’m here because I care about you. Rafe and I, we’ll always have our issues—he’s stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But that’s our problem. He’ll never have a say over what I do or who I’m there for. Especially not with this.”

You swallowed hard, “I don’t want you to regret it.”

She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. “You don’t have to protect me from him, remember? He’s my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but I’m not here for him right now. I’m here for you.”

“You’re sure?” you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified she’d eventually pull away.

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied, tilting your chin so you’d meet her eyes. “Whatever’s going on with Rafe will figure itself out—But right now, you need someone who’s all in, no strings, no doubts. That’s me. You focus on you. I’ll handle him.”

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, “I don’t think he loves me anymore,” you admitted, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear it, “I was so mean when your dad died.”

When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. “You really believe that?” she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldn’t see.

You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. “He doesn’t want me, not really. He’s…he pulled away. Like he’d rather hate me than be close to me. He’s with her.”

The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.

She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.

Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.

You weren’t sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. “We’re better off without each other, aren’t we?”

“You’re allowed to be someone without him, and you’re allowed to find out who that is.”

You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps he’d realized that, in the end, you weren’t worth fighting for.

And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.

“Thank you.”

And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday you’d be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache you’d come to accept as your own.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige

@rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron

@serrendiipty @sunny1616 @yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog

@psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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parkersbliss · 20 hours ago

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the 141 and the really weird or random quirks I’ve decided they had

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x female reader

warnings: suggestive content, like sexual content but not smut

a/n: I have zero reason for doing this expect I wanted too?? and got carried away with suggestive aspects of it which is funny cause I don't write smut lmfaooo. so mostly fluff and based off real quirks people I know have.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

—

Price:

no matter how many times he cleans the bathroom, his beard hair is everywhere. obviously he keeps that shit well groomed but it’s always somehow stuck on your face after you wash it, or on your shower loofah or towel. and you've tried and he’s tried to clean it and it never works.

loves gnomes. you have ones in the garden, the front yard, in your house for EVERY occasion. I’m talking christmas, easter, halloween, thanksgiving. he has a set for every season and it honestly scares you a little. one year he bought a giant one for your christmas tree as the topper and it made him so happy so you just accepted it.

doesn’t like to celebrate his birthday. He’s so much of a giver he downplays it every year. If you guys have kids, he’ll buy something for them ON HIS DAY just to take the attention off. so he kind of hates gifts, but he’s not going to not accept that. Would prefer you don’t, even though he bought you a $20K pearl necklace for your birthday. (You’re still afraid to wear it)

leaves you on heard. all. the. time. you ask him something, like as he’s sitting next to you and just … silence. sometimes he even nods, looks at you and then turns away. you’re not sure if it’s something to do with his hearing or he’s just so relaxed at home he just doesn’t comprehend sometimes. “hey, baby, what do you want for dinner?” “mm.”

average dad experience of sharing a hotel room and brother is snoring. you know what I’m talking about? the cold A.C turning on and off and mf just be out and it’s so loud you have to wear ear plugs. you wonder if he has sleep apnea at some point bc he can’t be real.

but don’t worry, he’s just as loud in bed bed ;) and he makes it known when you’re going at it

Ghost:

too stealthy for his own good and always scares the shit out of you. and he’ll try to be loud too, knocking on doors AND still isn’t loud enough. He always feel so bad but it’s also so funny to him bc he really does try to not be so quiet.

owns the same black t-shirt, like at least 5, but claims one of them is just softer and better than the others. you’ve tried them all on and there is no difference to which he mumbled something about you not having the special sense??

cat whisperer. you’ll adopt a cat while he’s gone bc you’re lonely and you spend all the time with the cat but no. cat loves ghost more. He’ll sleep on top of ghost, but never you. he’ll follow ghost around the house, but not you. it’s very infuriating. and ghost has no idea why bc he’s around 1/2 the time you are.

has a whole cabinet for his bourbon collection. and a special glass cup AND special spherical ice for it. he doesn’t even drink that often, but it was absolutely necessary (to him).

he’s a clean freak. very routine in how and when he does laundry. Bed sheets on this day, dark on this day, etc. he won’t let you do any of it. If he loses a sock, he throws out the other pair. as soon as there’s a hole in something, he throws it out.

nov. 1st is christmas to him. the tree is already up, no questions asks. there are no thanksgiving decoration in this house. he also has multiple trees, one by the entrance, one in the living room, one in your bedroom.

has definitely fucked you under the christmas lights by the fire. begs you to wear bow lingerie so he can quite literally “unwrap his best gift”

Gaz:

loves the lego car sets. his home office is decorated with all his medals AND the lego cars. has definitely left pieces out that you stepped on and then proceeded to scream his ear off.

begs you to play fortnite with him. you think he’s batshit crazy “that’s literally your actual job” “no but the raging kids makes it fun and we can match skins” (he means the banana skins btw) and he’s a troll. he doesn’t take the game seriously, he just wants to torture little kids and make fun of you when you can’t figure out where the shooting is coming from. or when you throw down a med kit instead of splash.

cannot get through a movie without fucking you and it’s always during the good parts so he’s got you in doggy and you’re still trying to watch the movie??

Instigator fr. he’s not toxic but like he’s gonna argue. Has literally once said to you “I’m not arguing I’m just explaining why I’m right” to which you stared at him and asked if he was stupid

always ask for hot sauce or sriracha at restaurants or if he can get something spicer. he eats buldok noodles with the whole sauce packet and then proceeds to sit in the bathroom for an hour while you scold him.

reckless driver to the max. you fear for your life when you’re in a car with him. He speeds (within reason he claims), he makes quick merges and switches lanes fast. he does use a turn signal so you let it slide bc he’s risky but not THAT risky.

obviously, he has horrible road rage. you’ll be calling him while he’s driving and it’s all normal and then “OI YOU FUCKING SHITE DO YOU HAVE A LICENSE?” you just sigh and then he answers you like normal, “yeah I think I’m out of toothpaste too.”

saves every selfie of you from snap and his rotating ones as his wallpaper. even the ugly ones you beg him to take out. like any guy, he’ll claim it’s his favorite and then it’s a 0.5 of you eating ice cream and it’s dripping everywhere and your eyes are half closed.

Soap:

leaves sticky notes everywhere to remind himself of things. anything. “need olive oil” “missing one blue sock” “(Y/N) wants thai takeout” “call ghost” “laundry”

and sometimes they’re not even correlated to where it should be. like the note that just says “laundry” will be in the kitchen. and he stacks on top of those sticky notes with more. “did laundry” “bought more socks” it drives you insane

he's obsessed with blankets. He has a designated like basket/bin or blankets in the living room and your bedroom. He sleeps with like three. and he’s got heated ones, sherpa ones, weighted ones, etc. absolutely collects the different printed ones for each holiday.

loves to go decor shopping with you, but only because he wants to pick out the ugliest things and see your reaction as you swat at him and tell him to put it back. only for him to sneak it back into the cart and you death glare him.

If you need to rant, he resumes the whole “omg girl, period.” personality. he loves gossip and he loves doing facemasks with you as you talk shit and drama about your coworkers.

he's so “wait I have to tell my gf this” bro will literally be on a mission and gets a cut? “I have to tell (Y/N).” the room exploded? would take a selfie and send it to you, if possible. sees a weird shaped potato at the grocery store? Sends a picture. Falls down the stairs? you're getting a picture of his broken foot. hard? here's a dick pic just for you babe

uses the same hydroflask water bottle that’s dented, has sticker residue and chipping on all side. “It’s reusable, that’s the point” he claims. you're not sure if he’s ever washed it and you certainly aren’t going to open it and find out for him.

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kawowoa · 2 days ago

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wrote this so fast if it’s messy .. shhhh… no it’s not🌀🌀🌀

imagine toji finding out he has a thing for praise. it wouldn’t get somewhere downstairs up and going, but it would make his heart race a little faster and his cheeks a little warmer.

he would realize on such a random day too. it would be around midday, just after you put megumi down for his after lunch nap. it was a hassle trying to get the tiny one year old to sleep when all he wanted to do was bang his plastic cubes together and watch some kids show you refuse to even mention.

after what felt like hours to you but in reality was just a few minutes, you would come back downstairs to see toji halfway done with the dishes.

he wanted to be useful to you, make your life a little easier instead of leaving all the shit to you and watching his game.

“huh, didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you joked, bumping your hip against his. you picked up one of the dishes laid out on the dish towel, it was pristine, you shot a sideways glance to toji. “good boy, ‘ji.” you patted his back before slipping away.

toji didn’t even have a witty remark to respond to you. it was like all the gears and circuits in his brain just suddenly decided to stop working simultaneously. he knew you were just joking, yet the sound of your voice calling him a good boy echoed in his mind like a broken record.

you started to catch on after that, he wasn’t good at hiding his reactions as he thought. you found any reason to give him subtle praises, whenever it was when he was holding megumi, mumbling how good of a father he was or when he was working out and you’d loudly exclaim how he’s so good at lifting weights.

it didn’t matter to him because it all affected him the same way. and eventually he started looking forward to hearing you praise him, though he tried to be slick about it.

but, it took him even longer to fully come to terms with it. after a mission that took an entire day where toji sluggishly came through the door. to his surprise, you were still up despite how late it was. the low murmurs of the tv broke the still silence, you both just stared at each other before your arms stretched out, beckoning him over.

he didn’t think twice to be in your arms, laying on your chest as you petted his hair.

“you did good, ‘ji. y’know i’m proud of you, right?” there’s that fuzzy feeling coming back. his eyes staring up at you through his shaggy bangs.

“why do you keep doing that?”

“doing what?”

“complimenting me ‘n shit.”

you chuckled, which only made his eyebrows furrow and his lips curl into a frown.

“do you hate it?” toji didn’t really have a response to that. as much as he hated to admit it, he liked it more than you think. when you say it out loud or pat him on his back that reassures him that whatever he’s doing is right, he all reacts the same way: feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

“i don’t.”

you pressed a kiss onto his forehead, “that’s what i thought, you deserve to know it.” you whisper against his forehead, he can feel your cheeky grin forming against him. “i always knew you had a praise kink.”

“don’t fuckin’ call it that.”

#★ ! fics #literally want to give him the biggest hug #UGH toji the man u are #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk toji #toji fluff #jjk fluff

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sturnioz · 2 days ago

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Fb Chris helping bun put shelves up at her place in exchange for head

just realised this will be the first time chris has been at her place .. crazy.

you teeth gnaw at your bottom lip as the door creaks slightly when it opens and chris steps into your small, cluttered bedroom, and you can feel the weight of his presence immediately as he glances around, taking in the trinkets that are sprawled across your desk in silence.

you watch him closely, noticing how his tongue prods at his cheek, a blank expression settling on his face as his gaze lingers on the scattered books and various items you haven't found a place for yet.

"nice room, kid," he murmurs, flicking a sonny angel that teeters on the edge of your desk. it topples over with a loud thump against the wood, and you can see a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"thank you.." you reply quietly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as your eyes dart away from him, instead looking down on the instruction manual for the shelves you desperately want to put up — the reason why he's here.

getting chris to agree to help you assemble your new shelves was hard.

you easily could've done it yourself, but the thought of dealing with complication instructions alone felt a little overwhelming. so you craved a quick solution, and chris was your first choice... a reluctant one.

you found yourself begging him more than you'd like to admit, refusing to take his initial 'no' as the final word. each time you approached him, he pushed back, his responses short and blunt like always.

but you were persistent, asking again and again until you finally offered him a deal — a promise of something in return which immediately piqued his interest, and much to your surprise, he agreed.

he will put up your shelves, and you will give him head as a thank you.

"let's get this shit over 'n done with," chris says, rolling up his sleeves with an exaggerated sigh. he adjusts the cap on his head, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes as he grabs a piece of wood, inspecting it for a moment as he turns it over in his hands before looking at you. "where d'you even want these?"

you point to the empty wall, your voice hesitant. "uh.. maybe there? above the bed?"

"above the bed?" he repeats, his eyebrow arching sceptically as if you've suggested something stupid. "what? so this shit can fall on you while you're sleepin'? don't be an idiot, kid."

your eyebrows knit together in frustration at his response. then you frown, tilting your head to the side, trying to gauge his reasoning. "then where else?"

"above the desk or somethin', i dunno," he shrugs as if it should be obvious.

you nod slowly, deciding to go with his suggestion as you begin gathering the tools needed for the job, moving around your room, passing each item to him as he calls for it.

the sound of the drill fills the silence, and you can't help but steal glances at chris as he works, the muscles in his arms flexing as he manoeuvres the drill; his brows furrowing deeply, and his jaw tightening with concentration.

a grin spreads across your lips as chris finally steps back, wiping the sweat from his brown with the back of his hand with a huff, surveying his handiwork.

"a'ight, s'all done, kid," he tells you, his fingers flexing as he shifts his gaze between the shelves and you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "what're you even gonna put on 'em anyway?"

you're already moving, excitement bubbling within you as you start gathering your books and a few artificial miniature plants — the thought of finally organising your space making you happy.

you place the items on the sturdy shelves, arranging them, and adding a few of your favourite scented candles that have been scattered around the room.

"hey, don't put so much shit on it, jesus." chris scoffs, his shoulder hitting yours as he steps closer. he practically pushes you aside, evenly arranging the items you've chosen on the shelves. "gotta leave some space, kid. 'cos if this collapses after i spent my time puttin' it up... m'gonna get pissed."

"your shelves are messy." you counter.

"yeah, but am i gonna cry when it breaks? no. you will though." you try to be offended at that, but there's some truth in his words. you may not shed any tears, but the thought of your new shelves crashing to the ground fills you with a sense of dread. they cost a lot more than you'd anticipated, and the idea of losing them so quickly makes you freeze.

"no i won't.." you protest weakly, though even you can hear the uncertainty in your voice.

"mhm, a'ight," chris hums as he licks his lips, taking a few steps backwards toward your bed as his hand comes down to unbuckle his belt, the metal clanging. "c'mere, bun.. come show me how thankful you are, yeah?"

#ᯓ꒰asks꒱#✰ issysh3ll #ᯓ꒰mutuals꒱#☆ fratboy!chris #☆ shy!reader #☆ fratboy!chris x shy!reader #★ ⋮ sturniolo hours !#★ ⋮ chris hours !

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rafeysbambii · 8 hours ago

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hypnosis : s2!rafe has to handle some guys that were talking down on his bambi.

warnings : lots of cursing, rafe beats a group of guys up, a little nsfw at the end (not a lot but soon!)

story type : fic / drabble !

a/n : i’ve reached 280 followers! this is so mind blowing to me, thank you all so much for all of the support! i’m so glad you guys are enjoying these! i love you all so very much! and also, bambi calling rafe ‘my hunter’ is canon and i won’t be told otherwise.🤍

(you get it cause she’s the deer and he’s the hunter.. yeah.)

rafe loved bambi, but of course he wouldn’t admit it (even though it’s painfully obvious) out loud to anyone besides her. and that ladies and gentlemen is the reason why he spoils to the fuck out of her, new shoes, new clothes, trips to the zoo to see her weird looking animals, and even getting her little beetle car wrapped in a pretty light brown per her mention.

and he’d be damned if anyone were to disrespect him or his girl.

well today was like any other friday for the almost couple, bambi has driven to the country club to meet rafe so she could watch him play some rounds of golf - or mostly for the free drinks and watching his muscles flex with each swing.. but who’s business other than hers is that?

and also like usual, rafe had some work to do and ordered bambi to meet him at the country club, get a little flute of champagne to keep herself occupied, and just kick back and wait for him to arrive.

and she would’ve done just that…

if she didn’t hear a group of guys laughing obnoxiously at her and rafe’s table. but here’s the kick, she heard rafe’s name flow so effortlessly out of their mouths. “ — right, man i’m telling you, she’s hot as fuck, rafe is a lucky man but shit is she making him soft.. i mean i asked him if he could grab me some stardust, and you know what he told me?”

“he told me ‘i don’t do that shit anymore, don’t want my bambi getting involved with that.’ he’s pussy whipped!” she had heard about ‘stardust’, but of course rafe had told her ‘not to worry her pretty little head about it’, “man that pussy must be magical, cause you can’t catch me quitin that shit for a quiet bitch. he needs to go back to fuckin’ the girls with the big tits and never gave a fuck!”

that’s what really set bambi off, what made the tears flow from her big bug eyes, what made her run out of the country club and into her small car, and before she can even start it up, she’s violently sobbing into her hands to the lowered sound of ‘Picture you’ by Chappell Roan (queen mama.)

yet even with her favorite music artist playing in the back, she can’t help but tune it out on her drive all the way back to her home in tanneyhill, just a few blocks down from rafes house where he’s probably still finishing up his work, but she can’t help but not pay attention to it - or the fact that he’ll probably blow up her phone within seconds of arriving at the country club.

and her prediction was right, once she’s already rushed into her house, took off her cute checkered dress, white sweater and uggs that rafe had bought her, her phone was blowing up with messages from rafe, but she knew his friends were right, she’s soft… she’s holding rafe back, and now she knows.

from ; my hunter🤍

i’m here baby.

i ordered you that red drink with the cherry and red shit.

don’t remember what it’s called lmfao.

where are you?

???

hello?

bambi?

where are you bambi?

seen just now

she watches with ease as the texts bombard her phone, yet she clicks the electronic closed, leaving rafe worried that something had happened to her on the drive to the country club. but she doesn’t really care, she wants to be left in her solitude with her tears.

bambi is sleeping peacefully when shes suddenly awoken by a warm pair of hands rubbing at her back, but she doesn’t move an inch - who the hell is inside of her house? “bambi? there you are kid,” oh, she recognizes the voice — it’s her favorite if she’s gonna be honest, rafe.

“hm..” she hums softly, “where the hell have you been bambi? was waitin’ for you.” he slides into the bed, even after she shrugs her shoulders “what’s goin’ on with you bambi?” - she doesn’t have an answer for him, which makes her feel sick to her stomach — she wants to tell him, she really does, but she just can’t find the words.

“i’m not good enough for you… i-im…” that sentence alone makes rafes heart quiver, “what the — the hell are you talkin’ about bambi? why the fuck are you sayin’ that shit?” he grabs her chin, forcing her eyes on his blues - and he feels absolutely defeated when he sees the red, puffy doe eyes that add to her features.

“i heard some boys at the country club talking… t-the guys you play golf with that one night…” rafe already knew where this was going, and he wasn’t happy about it.

at all.

“and they said that i made you soft… and that my pussy must be magical and that’s the only reason you’re with me…” his heart shatters into a zillion little pieces when the words leave her words, how could anyone ever say that about her? someone so sweet, and caring? “that’s… that’s not true baby, you know that.”

“i don’t rafe… they’re right — im not like the girls you’ve had before, they’re more..confident, a-and pretty. i’m just… me.” rafe is holding every physical bone in his body not to storm over to the country club and beat them all to a pulp. “listen to me bambi.” he takes her face in his hands, his signet ring cold against her skin - but she doesn’t seem to care when he’s looking at her like she’s the only girl in his eyes (she is.)

“you’re everything i want honey, i never would’ve talked to you if i didn’t think you were interesting, i love you, you. not any of the other girls before you. you’re perfect bambi, and i won’t let anyone tell you otherwise. and yeah, they’re right — that pussy is magical.”

“rafey! don’t say it like that!” she slaps his chest as they both laugh together - peace, they’re at peace. “wait…” she pauses, looking up at rafe once he pulls her into his lap, “you… you love me?” rafe simply looks up at her, leaning forward to kiss at her neck softly, “yeah bambi, i love you.”

“so does that mean… i’m your girlfriend?” rafe is confused for a minute, “i thought we were already dating bambi.”

a beat of silence rains over the two.

“you never asked me rafey! how was i supposed to know!” her well manicured nails, courtesy of rafe - scratching at the back of his head, she loves rafe, a lot.. and up until this moment, she was completely under the impression that they weren’t in a relationship..

although they do, do a lot of couple things… like rafe decorating the passenger seat of his truck to bambi’s liking, or — or whenever she’s cramping, he brings her a strawberry milkshake from the shady diner in the cut that he absolutely hates going to, but for his bambi - he’ll walk to hell and back if she asked.

so… maybe she did kinda know.. but that’s not the point!

“fine then bambi, will you make me the happiest and luckiest man alive and be my girl?” for a moment, there’s a beat of silence between the two, before bambi is suddenly crying. “shit baby - didn’t mean to make ya cry angel face.” of course, he’s quick to wipe the tears and catch her lips in his, loving the feeling of her trying to catch up with him.

“yes rafey! yes i’ll be your girlfriend!” she exclaims in between wet kisses, the lock to their newfound relationship —. “good cause i wasn’t takin no for an answer.” he’s quick to lean forward, kissing her plump pink lips with an exaggerated smack “now i can kiss you as boyfriend and girlfriend, no more friendly kisses.” the both smile like innocent children as bambi curls into his side, exhausted with the days she had (she woke up, got her nails done, and then went home and took a nap before going to the country club.)

“go to sleep my bambi, i’ll be right next to you in the morning honey.” he doesn’t even realize she’s already asleep until her nose is gently twitching cutely, a small habit he picked up on over the few months - he absolutely adores it, and he adores her, and now..

it’s time to find the dicks who made his girl cry.

the country club is getting emptier and emptier by the minute as the women getting tipsy with their girlfriends, and the men chugging down beers while golfing exit to return back to their homes in tanneyhill. but rafe, is just getting started.

hes immediately identifying the group of guys who made his bambi cry - some tall, bulky and not hot guys. psshh, this would be easy for him. “sup man.” he says as he approaches the group, placing a hand on one of their shoulders in a super non threatening way. “what’s up rafe! yo pogue, get my friend a drink!” rafe stops the guy; by the name of Jordan before he can call the pogue waitress over.

“nah nah, i’m not here to drink fucker.” rafe licks over his lips, his blood practically bubbling over through his seething anger. “i’m gonna tell you this once and you’re gonna fuckin listen yeah?” rafe says, grabbing jordan by the collar and lifting him right off of his chair. “you ever fuckin talk about my bambi like that again and i’ll sew your mouth shut. she may not be crazy but i am.”

rafe drops the shaking guy right into the glossy tile grounds of the country club, flicking the rest off as he turns away — making sure to whisper a snarky remark under his breath.

and the entire ride back to bambi’s, he can’t help but grin wildly because he knows bambi doesn’t know how truly crazy he is — and how willing he is to kill anyone who crosses her without her even knowing it.

a / n : hello there! i’m sorry for taking such a long leave, i’ve been going through some stuff but this is my apology! i hope you enjoyed this, and ill be getting into more writing!

#bambi!reader #bambi🦌🫶🏻#rafeysbambii #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x oc

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rottenraccoons · 8 hours ago

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Hi!!! I've just played Chapter 2, and it was awesome 💕 The writing is immaculate as always, and I am really looking forward to the release of future content!!!

I also looked back your previous asks, and you mentioned Griff was like That (very much of a little shit) to Vesper in Keir's route for spoilers reason, is the reason because Keir is romantically attracted to Vesper?

And one more thing, approximate how old are Griff, Halo, Lave, Delight in Keir's route? (I only found their approximate heights, not really sure if you talked about their age before!)

Once again thank you so much for your amazing work!

Griff's hostility to Vesper is the same regardless of how close Vesper is to Keir (though being close to Keir definitely doesn't help!); the reason he's so much more hostile on Keir's route over Oleander's route will be explored more later ❤️

As for the Mouse Hole gang, sure! Halo is older than Lave by a few years, but they're both in the late twenties/early thirties range, Griff is mid-twenties, and Keir and Delight are within a year or two of each other in their mid-thirties.

#obscura vn #rotten raccoons #asks #keir #griff #mouse hole

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blauequuleus · 2 days ago

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I like to think Danny does immediately tell Tim

“So okay I look 14 but I’m actually 37 but due to a little hiccup in life where I died and am still technically kinda dead I stopped aging physically”

Tim who’s been around a bunch of magical shenanigans bullshit is already immediately planning the funniest thing to mess with his family

“Okay cool but what if we don’t tell my family your actual age for shits and giggles”

But for a while the media and Batfam go a little insane cause it blows up that Tim has apparently taken in some random kid??

(And weirdly around the same time Red Robin got a new sidekick but no one’s gonna string those thumbtacks on the cork board together)

The Batfam in particular cause they can’t find any info on this kid or where he’s from (courtesy of Tucker and now Tim pitching in)

So they basically all go about treating Danny like the 14 year old they believe him to be while they dig for any info about him to which they find nothing

A few months later Tim is talking to the press about a bunch of new cool tech they’re releasing and that it comes from his recent hire in engineering who’s brilliant and has been in the field for decades.

He goes into all these details about this engineers degrees and his accomplishments.

And it turns out this is a very well known independent contractor that’s been well known for 20 years. Who’s famous for no one really knowing what he looks like but constantly outputs amazing stuff when hired.

So Tim in this press conference finally goes

“Actually I finally managed to convince him come out and talk in todays press conference about his newest work and his plans for it”

All the while with a suddenly bigger smile that looks like he’s holding back a laugh

So everyone starts getting excited/curious including the Batfam.

Cause they’ve heard about this new hire but Tim was adamant they leave him be for now cause Tim didn’t want them scaring the guy off with…how intense they can be

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Danny walks on stage and starts talking about HIS inventions.

Cause sir that’s a teenager the guy we’re talking about has been heard about in circles for decades.

All this to comes to a head when Danny gets directly asked about that

And Danny and Tim had planned to this so Danny just gives them the answer of

“Oh yeah I’m 37 but I’m a meta and my powers halted my aging soooo I have perpetual baby face”

And like yeah the press has more questions about THAT but they move on from that topic for now

Meanwhile the Batfam are sweating bullets in the back cause this means that every single one of them has been treating this grown ass man like a child for literally months.

They are all suddenly hit with very embarrassing memories of them treating Danny like a kid in private and public

Meanwhile Tim and Danny are trying so hard not to bust out laughing seeing all their faces because they did this for no other reason than to troll the rest of Tim’s family into embarrassing themselves

Tim’s motivation behind even doing all this? They cut him off from his coffee

I have been pulled from the depths of my hibernation by this post. And now y'all should know my drill. I'm making this DP x DC baby.

Anyway

_________

Tim opened his door to see what looked to be a underweight preteen. The boy looked to be the personification of a wet cat. "Do you need something kid?" Tim's asks and leans aginst the door frame. Tim raked his eyes across the kid, he had ice blue eyes and black hair 'he looks like adoption bait'.

"I know what you are" the kid says. Tim raises a brow 'is this kid with the paparazzi or something?'. Tim tilts his head and tired smile on his lips "oh, Do you now?".

The kid with an all to serious expression lifts up a photo... of him.... as Red Robin climbing into his apartments window 'well fuck'.

Tim grabbed the kid by the wrist and pulled him into his apartment "so what do you want?" Tim asks cearfully, grabbing his coffee mug and nursing it as he stared the kid down.

Tim dosnt want to come off as threatening, but he won't just let the bratt expose him. "So you are Red Robin?" The kid says, not in a way that makes him seem unsure of himself, but like in the way he wants to hear it from Tim's lips.

"You can't prove it" Tim says calmly sipping his coffee. Tim knows he basically just conformed it, but he could tell the kid already knew.

The little shit gave Tim a wide smirk and pulled a manila folder, out of... somewhere? And hands it to him. Tim takes it, sets down his coffee, and opens it. Inside are a few dozen pictures of Tim, some were his mask is off while he is still in suite.

"Ok you got me, so what do you want?" Tim says slightly impressed, he is getting flashbacks to his younger years of chasing Batman and Robin with his camera.

"I'm going to be your sidekick" The kid says firmly. Tim's jaw drops. It feels like he is blue-screening. 'Is this how Bruce felt?' "Ok" The word left Tim's lips before he even relized.

The kid stuck out his hand "it's a pleasure doing business with you, I'm danny". 'You know what fuck it, this is my kid now' Tim smirked tiredly, taking Danny's hand (his ice cold hand) in a firmly grip "Guess we need to pick out a name for your then".

Danny's grin grows showing too many teeth "i already have one, is go by Phantom"

--------------------

I also think this would be hilarious if danny is actually older than Tim but is stuck as a sad meow meow because he stopped aging after he died, and ge saw Red Robin, practically on his own and most of the support he was receiving was from other teens, and deciding, no, no kid should be without adult support.

Danny wished he had someone to watch his Back besides his freinds and sister, sure they helped a lot, but he feels he would have been better off with an adult mentor (shut up vald you were never his mentor, just a creepy fruitloop).

And if Red Robin thinks he's a kid, all the better, it should make him less reckless if he thinks he has a kid to watch out for.

#dcxdp

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underskz · 2 days ago

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➪ mark lee x reader ✩ w.c ~500 — 18+ minors dni —

note: yeah again idk i saw these pics of mark and that stupid red solo cup and was like sure ok write a blurb or whatever of him at a party :') i hate my brain it's getting critical...idk think nct 127 party and specifically that vid where they're playing pong bc thats forever in my brain and will forever serve as inspo for any and all party fics with them..... this is a cry for help

warnings: alcohol, bad language, mark (tbh all of the members in this) is not so secretly a dick and a player lol, a weak semblance of plot i put together with spit and duct tape (don't read too much into it)

"Oh shit! Aw man, my bad."

The cold splash of beer soaking through the front of your shirt is more than enough to have your head snapping up to shoot the nastiest glare you can possibly conjure at the offender.

Mark fucking Lee.

Standing before you with that stupid wide eyed look on his face and hands clasped together apologetically. You're eyebrow twitches when you can hear a few snickers coming from the general vicinity of where you last saw Johnny and Jaehyun, slightly tightening your grip on your own cup and biting down the temptation of chucking it in their direction.

And any other clueless twit would've been putty the moment they realized just who exactly doused them with at least half a cup of shitty beer, accepting his sorry excuse for an apology in a heartbeat.

"Don't you mean, sorry?" You hiss, jaw aching from how tightly your teeth press together. Again you swallow down every venomous word crawling up your throat, all too appealing when he cocks his head.

"Oh yeah sure, sorry." And he smirks, one of his dimples fully on display and he's truly the epitome of the most unapologetic fuckboy you've ever been cursed to lay eyes upon.

"Fuck off, I'm outta here." Slamming down your cup on a nearby surface before turning to shoot one last glare at Mark.

You only agreed to coming here because your friend had begged you to damn near on their hands and knees and some pitiful story about needing to get into Yuta's pants.

But just as you take a step back his hand shoots out, fingers tightly wrapping around your wrist and now you're wondering if punching him right in that stupid dimple is an overkill.

"Aw, don't be like that, you can borrow one of mine!"

"I'd rather chew pavement." There's a twinge in your chest when he pouts, looking a little wounded at the harshness of your tone.

And maybe you didn't have a real reason for hating him, other than the fact he's led on two of your friends—just to leave them in tears and you to pick up the pieces—and obnoxiously dated that one stereotypical mean girl you had the displeasure of attending the same university with.

"Okay okay, here, I'll give you this one." Releasing your wrist and starting to take off the loose black tee hanging off of him.

"Fuckin'- stop, stop, fine!" Your hands coming to catch his this time around, irritation throbbing in your temples as you let him lead you towards his room. You well enough know the second you step foot into it your fate is sealed, the stories and rumors infamous in the social circle the two of you share.

He opens the door and grins at you, hand extended as if he's some sort of gentleman. You take it.

#mark lee x reader #nct x reader #cw alcohol #again idk what this but i hope u enjoy to some degree lol #– miki writes

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unknown-cold · 1 day ago

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Some people be missing vital points of your post about people forgiving jinx but not Caitlyn. Just because she’s a rich nepo baby, doesn’t make her trauma any less significant than jinx’s. Like wtf. That’s shit I’m sick of. Mental illness and grief don’t stop because you have money. Ppl have an understandable anger towards privilege but i think it’s warped some of their perceptions of the show. Both Caitlyn and jinx’s reactions to trauma/grief are realistic, neither better or worse than the other. I’m more interested to see the end game for both of those characters and how they manage that grief/trauma in the long run. I have my thoughts on how they will mirror Cait and Jinx’s endings to reflect that

Say it LOUDER!! 🗣🗣

And you know what's worse than that is when I saw a post saying that Caitlyn was going to kill the child because she's a cop, what does being a cop or an enforcer have to do with killing a kid?

They completely ignoring that she's in a condition of hysteria from fear and anger at that moment, (literally, was Silco a cop when he decided to kill Vander and his children in episode 3 in season 1, or not? He's from Zaun so he has the right to do bad things, but if he's someone from Piltover, then no. "Of course I'm not saying that these actions are good, of course not. I just want to show how hypocritical these people are when it comes to comparisons and accepting actions from other characters and characters even though they're exactly the same actions")

But anyway, the important thing now is that they should know that trauma is trauma no matter what, whether the character is rich or poor, adult or teenager. Sadness and anger are emotions that are difficult to control, and this is the reality. There is no need to lie to ourselves. Go and search even on Google, and you will see that when writers make a character act in a certain way, whether it is good or bad, there is a clear and logical reason for it. And if these people sympathize with Jinx and her actions, then they should sympathize with Caitlyn as well because she is also a victim like Jinx, not only in terms of trauma, but Caitlyn also became a victim of Ambessa's manipulation. Same when Jinx was a victim of Silco's manipulation.

In my opinion, these people should calm down a bit because until now we haven't seen anything from the show. They should trust the writers of the show to make the characters look like this.

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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 days ago

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rating the volo voice lines from pokemon masters ex as i hear them for the first time

youtube

“I’m Volo of the Ginkgo Guild, the go-to choice for your mercantile needs.”

Sounds like he’s practicing his merchant persona in front of a mirror. Very pleased with his own performance. Might break out into song about it. 8/10

“Allow me to present this to you.”

Spot-on cadence of Chris Traeger from Parks and Recreation. 4/10

“Here’s a special treat for you!”

Creepy. Feels like he’s going to hand me a bomb. 2/10

“Oh! It’s looking lively around here.”

Sounds like he thinks he’s too cool for the party you’ve both walked into and wants to know that you hate it too. 7/10

“What a joy to be alive!”

Said with the paradoxical determination and resignation of someone who values his own life too highly to end it, but hates that life so fucking bad. 10/10

“Oh! My heart is racing with excitement!”

Sounds like he just made himself think of something he actually cares about in order to generate enthusiasm about your thing. Also, overdoing it on the “oh,” there. 7/10

“If we use this well, the world will open up.”

Whatever you say, beautiful. What are we talking about? 8/10

“I like you better and better!”

He’s telling the truth, but he likes me for reasons way less innocent and simple than my continued business. Regardless, the praise is appreciated. 10/10

“Fancy running into you again!”

Two possibilities: he very intentionally arranged this meeting and is pretending to be surprised, or he was surprised by the meeting and is pretending to be chill about it. 8/10

“Maybe we’ll get to know each other better now!”

Sounds like he’s about to ask for my social security number, and if I’m into men, and if I’m into giving men my social security number. 6/10

“Of course. I’d be glad to help.”

He’s foaming at the mouth to involve himself in whatever protagonist shit I’m up to right now. 9/10

“I can see a whole new world!”

According to Bulbapedia, he says this “upon reaching max level.” Is that like a relationship level? Does that mean I’m his world? Knowing his motivations in PLA, this could easily have a double meaning—getting close to me, and therefore Arceus, allows him to create a new world. This concerns me less because of the world erasure thing, and more because it might mean he doesn’t actually care about me. 1/10

“Let the battle begin!”

Doing a pretty good job sounding normal with this one. 3/10

“That’s it! Go right ahead!”

According to Bulbapedia he’s saying this to Togepi, which is very sweet. Also explains why it doesn’t sound fake as hell. 10/10

“Here you are!”

He says this to Togepi when he gives her an item in battle, I’m assuming a potion? Which is, again, extremely sweet. 10/10

“Pay me later!”

He says this while “using Trainer move,” which I assume is like his signature flourish during battle. The reference to his merchant persona is clever and he sounds like he’s very proud of it. I’m amused by the implication that I’m supposed to pay him for something, though. Is he helping me or battling me? Both? What are we, Volo? 4/10

“Delightful!”

Accompanies the “nice” emote. I’m not going to complain. 5/10

“Careful now!”

Accompanies the “watch out” emote. He sounds concerned, but like, in a “please don’t inconvenience me with your pain” way. I wish he truly cared, but maybe if I lie to myself, I can believe that he does. 3/10

“I’m filled with curiosity!”

Said with the exact cadence of Grunkle Stan talking to idiot tourists at the Mystery Shack. Ostensibly laughing at himself, but actually laughing at the people who are stupid enough to believe him. 9/10

“Pokemon battles are always good fun!”

He only says this when he wins, which means they’re not always good fun. Makes perfect sense for the character and I like the delivery. 8/10

“Too powerful…”

He says, actively fantasizing about eventually proving himself more powerful. 10/10

“BEHOLD! DESTINY! LEGENDS! UNDONE!”

Bulbapedia identifies these words as things he yells during “unity attack/theme skill.” I have no idea what that means. It sounds to me like he’s accidentally taken a double dose of his ADHD stimulant medication and is just saying whatever the fuck comes to mind. 6/10

“Allow me!”

Said while “switching in.” Assuming he’s helping me, this is rather nice to hear. I’m more than happy to set this strange contemptuous man on my battle opponent. 9/10

“Oh dear, that’s too bad.”

Said while “recalling fainted Pokemon.” Option 1: He’s recalling his Togepi and trying very hard to sound brave about it. 10/10. Option 2: He’s taunting me about my fainted Pokemon with a sickly-sweet condescending tone. Also 10/10.

“Good morning! Are you heading out today?”

I appreciate the casual greeting and barely-contained rabid interest in my protagonist activities. 8/10

“In that case, potions are a must.”

Thoughtful and dedicated to his quotas. It does feel like he’s five seconds from calling me “milady,” though. Wait, in PLA I think he actually does that. It might be “madam.” He’s so embarrassing. 7/10

“The weather outsider is lovely today.”

Sounds like he’s about to take his lunch break so we can enjoy it together. 8/10

“So, how about it? Care to go on an outing with me?”

Already beat him to it. He’s trying so hard to sound chill, but I think if I said no it would ruin his day. Also, what’s with “outing?” Just say “date.” The game knows you’re saying “date.” This is a dating sim. 10/10

“Please, don’t overexert yourself too late at night. I don’t want to lose one of my loyal customers!”

First, that’s what she said. 6/10. Second, he’s negging me again. 9/10. Third, he has other loyal customers?! 0/10

“Ah!”

Sounds like the peanut butter baby from that 2016 viral video. 4/10

“Rrrrrrr…”

Nintendog. 7/10

*Sighs deeply*

Agreed. 9/10

“Yes.”

Me when I say “yes.” 5/10

*Increasingly loud fake bouts of laughter*

This man is going to end up on the news. 10/10

*Evil chuckle, tapering off into deranged humming*

This man is going to end up at the Tony Awards. 10/10

*Bitchy throat clear that turns into a laugh*

This is how he laughs at the PLA protagonist after he insults their “curious getup.” 10/10

“Outstanding!”

He’s high, tipsy, and/or sleep deprived, and someone just suggested getting takeout. 6/10

“As expected…”

Apropos of nothing, but he does like to feel smart. 7/10

“CONGRAAAAAAATULATIONS!!!”

This is perfect. This is a perfect voice line. The voice actor understands the comedy of Volo’s character perfectly. Divine madness aside, he is a merchant NPC almost obsessively invested in the protagonist’s adventures—but unlike many such cases, the narrative both understands and demonstrates how fucking weird and off-putting that is. 1000000/10

“I wish you great fortune.”

Reminds me of the PLA line, “Supporting you now is actually an investment in my own fortunes.” The voice actor nails the double meaning. 7/10

“HOOOOW DARE????!!!!”

I can’t find an explanation for this line. I think it’s just random. He’s so fucking weird. Did he read that in a book? Is he in a bad play? 10/10

*Whimpering*

Took a quick break to walk around my apartment and poorly make the bed. No further comment. ?/10

*Relieved sigh*

It’s a relieved sigh.

*Literal actual moaning*

???????????????????

*Various other noises*

The people in the comments of this video were not exaggerating. Holy shit.

“Have some mercy!”

WHAT IS THIS GAME RATED??????

*Deep sigh* “Now then…”

I have no words. I don’t know. Why does this exist in the way it exists.��

“Right! Thank you!”

I feel like I just witnessed something that I did not ask to witness. Does the Ginkgo Guild have a HR department?

“My apologies.”

That is not helping his case.

“Leave it to me!”

Good voice line. Great performance. He would say that. We’re back on track, love it. 5/10

“No thank yewwwwww…”

Bitch. 8/10

“Please!”

“Indeed…”

“That is quite something!”

All very normal. 5/10

“You’re too kind.”

This is the weirdest line delivery yet. He sounds unhinged. Something happened around the 1:19 point of this video that neither of us can pretend didn’t happen. ???/10

“Until next time.”

Spoken like a charming male musical theater lead who just did a little song and dance about his life philosophy. 9/10

“Come on, now.”

Getting weird again. There is nothing I could possibly possess that would necessitate that amount of beleaguered desperation. 6/10

“Let’s get our blood pumping!”

Not on the first date—sorry, outing. ?/10

“The mysteries of the past… oH-hO! How they tICKle my curiosity!”

Sure. Why not. 5/10

“Investigating the odd and novel is key to any good merchant’s success.”

This is delivered pretty much how I would imagine in the game! Also just such a fun line for him—he says this as if it makes all the sense in the world, but it literally doesn’t? It’s a total non-sequitor. Investigating the odd and novel have nothing to do with being a successful merchant, and later in the game he even admits to ditching work to do his research. I’ve always appreciated that part of his characterization—the way he knows that he’s bullshitting everyone and getting away with it, and is simultaneously so smug about his clever ruse and so miserable to be alone in his truth. 10/10

“A HISTORIC MOMENT!”

Deeply bizarre final line for a deeply bizarre character. I hope he says this about mundane shit like dropping a cup of coffee or getting an email. 10/10.

#my conclusion is ????????????#it was somehow more insane than i thought it would be #why did they do this #pla #volo #merchant volo #pokemon masters ex

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shewolf-sinclair · 20 hours ago

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no i love this. i’m taking ap research and for a while was looking into doing a media analysis project on jason todd and how he exists as social commentary. an essay i plan to write later anyways but without the college board guidelines.

when you think about he exists to critique everything batman stands for.

he comes from NOTHING. he has had to work for everything he has.

bruce is as old money as it gets. he was raised with the world at his fingertips.

jason fights for the general wellbeing of gotham. but deep down he fights for the kids like them. to show them they too can be something. to protect them. the unprotected, often situationally the weakest, the young, the innocent, and the poor. He fights so they don’t have to grow up with crime as their only possibility of a living. so they have options.

it’s not that bruce inherently doesn’t care. but. he has subconscious bias. he fights in crime alley because he hates crime. but he’s not thinking about what his presence might mean to the residents besides taking down bad guys. And he’s more concerned with bigger things like mobs and gangs and big bads than the small things. At least he is by the time he takes Jason in. He’s not just batman either. he’s bruce. he holds immense power as a citizen. he has the ability to improve the conditions in crime alley that pushes those people towards crime in the first place.

jason as RH goes into being a crimelord strictly to dismantle that system (from the inside). Because who cares if petty theft continues he’s keeping the drugs and predators away from the kids. because this generation may be fucked but he can keep the next one from making the same mistakes. and he’ll help this one where he can, too. he’s anti batman because he’s mad at batman, but also because of where his priorities as a vigilante and political figure lie.

batman works with the police. he comes when they call him. if you don’t think that provides bias as to who he helps you’re insane. the police in canon are corrupt, in such a way they mirror the real systemic problems we have in real life, although DC doesn’t always get as graphic within it’s PD and often tries to show them as accessories to heroism (again racist in many ways) this automatically puts batman fighting to save the middle and upper class more often than those in crime alley. and the white residents of gotham more often than the poc.

I know a lot of people don’t like the live action titans show. and while I love it dearly I’m not here to argue about what it did or didn’t get right or do well. I just want to mention l a specific scene in Jason’s s3 arc that ties back to the point of this thread; specifically 3x05 “Lazurus” which stands as one of my favorite episodes of television to this day.

In looking for the exact scene I want to reference I came across Molly’s (jason’s childhood friend) character wiki:

In said scene Jason and Molly meet and discover the whereabouts of a missing kid, to which Molly remarks “He’s poor and brown so the cops don’t give a shit” and while Jason at first says batman will handle it, he very quickly — and after Molly comments on batman’s classism — rushes into trying to take action. The following scene is them confronting the suspected kidnapper and Jason kicking his ass. Maybe even better Jason’s FIRST act as red-hood was saving the kid.

Later in the season he goes on several times to separate himself from scarecrow, reasoning that he didn’t agree to be redhood for senseless violence but because he wanted a better gotham, and wanted the opportunity to take down crime from the inside.

the last thing want to discuss is the kill/no kill rule.

in general redhood doesn’t go on random killing sprees. It is almost always killing predators and abusers, as a way of keeping them away from their victims and saving potential future victims. Because Jason knows locking them up in Arkham or other similar solutions tends not to work. Jason doesn’t kill because he likes it, or is okay with it. It’s a means of necessity. Him having a high kill count is direct commentary on the vigilante/anti-hero trope and on morality and what makes a mean to an end, on what draws the line. His very existence as Red Hood is the same thing as asking “What if you cut a rapists dick off? Or otherwise maim them? What if you commit murder in an act of self defense or one of immediate defense of another?” It’s like when cops shoot a suspect because it’s the only foreseeable way to prevent them from harming people in the immediate future. It’s not arguing that murder is moral. It’s arguing which is less moral; killing them, or allowing them to continue causing harm; knowing you had a chance to stop it. Mind you we are discussing ethics, not legality, as 90% of the vigilante work is illegal.

Batman however refuses to kill, even in the case if the Joker — who murders countless people for fun, including Jason. Batman continues unreliable ways of keeping them off them the streets, with no effort to make them any more reliable. and again is has nothing to do with worrying about the law- he breaks the law constantly.

And this has always been there stark difference, why Jason fights so hard against crime AND a against Batman, and while even after reconciliation they still have a strained relationship.

My opinion on the Latino Jason Todd headcanon

While I do understand ppl's criticism of the latino Jason todd headcanon and how its kind of racist to make the kid with parents with drug problems as the latino one, to me its more of a reclamation BECAUSE of DC's racism.

Read any 80s/90s batman issue that covers gang violence and drugs, most if not ALL of the criminals are poc; black people and latinos visibly make up the majority in the poorer neighbourhoods in Gotham. Aside from the caricaturist way they r drawn/speak, its not THAT weird cause its a reflection of irl big cities where immigrants and marginalised ppl are often forced to live in such situations, (like most of my dominican family lives in the bronx... it aint racist to say dominicans tend to flock there), BUT...the weird part is when the second a sympathetic character comes from that area, he's white and has a name thats "too fancy for the streets".

Obviously, Jason was created to look like the old robin, so I can't say that the whole "diamond in the rough" situation was purposely a tad bit racist, but its still a lil weird (especially with bruce's comment).

If Jason were a part of the overwhelming demographic in his area, the good-kid-in-a-bad-area trope has less connotations. DC is currently trying to fix this trope is by making crime alley whiter, which isn't bad but they could've just yk... humanised the non-white residents.

I also feel like the messed up way Jason was treated post-death is what makes him so relatable to latino readers. His tragic story of dying while trying to save his only living relative is turned into a lesson for newer vigilantes. Jason's particular disdain for abusers on a few occasions was twisted (by both writers and characters) into him always being dumb, reckless, cocky, angry and disobedient, always violent, never having been able to get over his upbringing. None of those things were true (he was a normal level of reckless and cocky like every other robin, not more), but its an easier narrative to digest compared to how it was in reality; a kid who worked so hard and loved even harder, died to save a woman who couldn't care less about his existence. He was an emotional AND smart kid who wanted so bad to help others get better but was remembered as too emotional (in a bad way).

THIS is the reality for many latino diasporas in day to day life; Theres no question that Latino culture is passionate and emotive, but people from other cultures assume that it is followed by instead of logical. both can coexist. emotion does not mean u have no logic. Emotions can be irrational but they aren't inherently that way, and I wouldn't say that the moments where Jason lashed out as a teenager were irrational (in og runs, not rewrites post red hood), they were mostly done to protect someone (going crazy on abusers, disobeying batman to save sheila, that time he got into a fight at school to defend his friend).

A lot of euro-centric culture is OBSESSED with the idea that rationality is separate from feelings and emotions, but not crying at a funeral doesn't mean you're better than those who do. Emotions are the basis of human ethics and morals, they define the way we interact as a collective and ignoring them does not mean they are not there. Theres no winner to a contest of who can feel the less. And the way Jason's emotions are treated (pre-rh, hes definitely unhinged afterwards lol) is so in line with how white culture tends to punish those who aren't ashamed to feel.

I TOTES UNDERSTAND that some ppl who headcanon Jason as latino are doing it for the complete opposite of reasons, like "oh here some angry emotional guy with druggie parents, haha must be latino". Its weird. I dont like it. And its only brought up so he can swear in spanish in some rlly bad text post where his emotions are getting out. But to me there's so much potential for metanarrative and commentary on how latinos are treated in media that can be exemplified through the way his character is treated. Being latino would add SO MUCH DEPTH to his character and his dynamic with the others.

#this is just my rant lol #jason todd #red hood

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twstfanblog · 2 days ago

Text

*~Thanks Give Me~* Pt 1

A/N: I'm excited to get this fic out that I'm posting the first part before the second is even done XD Enjoy the fic and look forward to part two! Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Swearing, Glossing over the history of the Native Americans Part 2

Banging on Ramshackle's front door was easily the quickest way to get Yuu to answer. Banging on Ramshackle's door at 7am was easily the fastest way to get Yuu to murder whoever was at the door with reckless abandon.

Yuu had to give credit to whoever was on the other side, they did not let up on their knocking even at the sound of them stomping down the stairs nor the aggressive way they started to undo the locks more than likely broke one of their nails. Swinging open the door, hair wild from sleep and tired eyes glaring they started to yell, “What the fuck do you WANT-”

Ruggie barely missed a beat, stepping closer to squeeze himself under Yuu's arm and into the entry hall of the dormitory, “Hey Ramshackle! So…you told me about a holiday from your world last year and I wanna hear about it again.”

“...” Yuu slammed the door closed, “You were knocking on my door like you were the fucking police because you wanted me to info dump holidays?”

“Nah, nah, nah…Just the one you talked about happening in November…the food one…tell me about the food one again…”

“...Thanksgiving-?”

“Yeah, Thanks Give Me. Are you doing it…this year? Did you do it last year? You should do it this year…and invite your good friend Ruggie-”

“I should fucking kill you. You woke me up on a Saturday for this shit-”

“Come on, prefect!” Ruggie’s face had slipped into an almost pleading expression, “You told me that you'd host one if you had the money for it!”

He gestures around, the updated and safer Ramshackle a clear difference from the poor squatter Yuu used to emulate, “You can't even bullshit me and say you don't have money now!”

“...” Yuu stood with their hands pressed together, lips resting on their interlocked fingers as they tiredly glared at the floor, “Ruggie if I threw a fucking Thanksgiving dinner will you get the fuck out of my house and let me sleep?”

“Yes.”

“You are so lucky you did this shit on the 1st, we've got three weeks to plan this dumpsterfire-RUGGIE!?”

Ruggie had quickly hoisted Yuu over his shoulder, fireman carrying them out the door and into the early morning, “Sorry, Ramshackle! Just gettin’ some insurance from your boyfriend!”

Azul had been just as confused and startled when Ruggie banged on his bedroom door at 7am demanding he draft up a contract between him and Yuu regarding their promise. A conversation that led to a contract that was painfully vague. An issue Azul tried to bring up but Yuu simply stated wasn't worth the trouble of explaining and to just do what Ruggie asked.

(“Is this what I do to you guys? Is this What I'm like? Why do you love me?”

“For many reasons, please just tell me what's happening.”

“Naw, this is more fun.”

“Alright…”)

Only a week after that incident, during a housewarden meeting, did Yuu call everyone to attention. They stood, going around the table and passing out invitations tied close with golden ribbons to the other wardens and the vices that had managed to be in attendance.

Vil opened his invitation first, squinting his eyes at the ornate yet bold script and reading aloud, “You are formally invited to the first annual Ramshackle Thanksgiving Dinner…what is Thanksgiving?”

Yuu clicked a button on the room's master remote, calling down the screen and turning the projector on to show a PowerPoint. She moved the projector control panel to the front, putting their flashdrive into it.

Riddle sat up straighter in his seat, pointing toward the set up in anger, “You did not file a request to use the projector!”

“Riddle, let me cook. This is the only way I could think to explain this and I have a magically binding contract with Ruggie.”

Leona groaned, letting his invite fall to the ground, “Is this what Ruggie’s been yapping about for the past four days? He's been hounding my ass to just agree with whatever you propose and I have half a mind to say no out of spite.”

“...”, Yuu pressed a button on the panel, a slide coming up showcasing an obvious stock photo of a feast, “Thanksgiving is a holiday from my world where you come together and eat so much you pass out.”

“...You have my approval.”

Idia spoke up, giving Leona a side eye while he held his own invite like a wet rag, “Wow, folded that fast, huh?”

“I'm depressed, not suicidal, Shroud…”

Yuu clicks to a new slide, showing another clear stock photo of a family all gathered around a dinner table, “As stated, it's a family-based holiday. Immediate and extended family all come together to share a meal, catch up, and just have a general good time and maybe watch some football.”

Idia frowned, the very idea of his extended family all in his home being nothing closer to a waking nightmare.

Another slide, hand-drawn images of two people; one dressed in an all-black traveler’s outfit of an olden Queendom citizen and a Republic Native in a large headdress*, “It started back when the pilgrims landing in America and had their first successful harvest with the help of the Native Americans. And now we just…don't talk about that.”

Trey tucked his invite into his jacket, raising an eyebrow, “Why?”

Yuu clicked to the next slide, showing the Native now scribbled out with red ink and the traveler smiling evilly as she mumbled, “Oh, the stealing of land, assaulting of women and children, the deliberate spread of disease, and erasure of culture-”

Riddle spoke for them all, eyes wide at the various horrors Yuu was seeming to brush past, “The what?”

Yuu clicked the button again, showing a new text slide that (annoyingly) used comic sans as the title font, “Anyway, your jobs. We're gonna do this fast because I have to beat Sebek into submission after this meeting. And just to explain, we're doing what is technically called a ‘FriendsGiving’. It acts more like a potluck instead of a traditional Thanksgiving.”

Jade raises his hand, “I think we'd like to hear more about the apparent deliberate spread of disease?”

Pulling out a collapsible pointer, Yuu smiled and clicked on a new slide to slap it against the screen, “Riddle, you're allowed to bring a store-bought dessert. But your main job will be to yell at everyone to behave and then call to the meal once it's prepared. Actually, Riddle, take notes, everyone will need it.”

Riddle sighed heavily, taking out his notebook and scribbling down notes that he would have to copy and deliver to the others.

The pointer hit against the screen more aggressively, Yuu glaring directly at Trey, “Trey…you bring dessert.”

“I'm not so sure I want to celebrate a holiday involving the desecration of a culture…”

“You bring a dessert or you will be hunted for sport.” Their pointer smacks against the screen again, “Cater: Gay Cousin.”

Idia looked at the screen in confusion, watching as even Riddle was tripped up before writing down what was said, “Is he… is he bringing a gay cousin or-”

SMACK “Deuce, he can bring an egg dish. I can't trust him with anything else. Ace, the family member that no one wants there but shows up anyway.”

Trey was already thinking of what dessert he wanted to bring, making a list in his mind of what the group would like the most, “Do…we invite Ace or do we just bring him with us-”

SMACK “Leona, your job is to hog the TV and watch sports. Just really manspread it on the couch; be even better if you fell asleep while watching it but won't let go of the remote.”

While he didn't agree nor disagree, Leona gave Yuu a look of annoyed bewilderment.

Vil spoke up, his own face pinched in confusion, “This is a food-based holiday, correct?”

Yuu was either willingly ignoring them or she actually was focused on dealing out her strange tasks. The pointer once again slapped at the fabric of the screen, “Jack, something…maybe a nice vegetable side or a pear-themed dish. No chicken…in fact, no meat. He can't be trusted. Ruggie.”

The room was silent as Yuu looked at the screen, a brief pulse of rage in her eyes before inhaling deep and releasing it, “Anyway. Azul, you're in charge of managing the drinks for the evening. We want a decently diverse but small selection of alcoholic and non-alcoholic to pick from.”

“I have no issue with that, though I'd like to know what the final menu will consist of to make a proper selection for wine…also. Is there a reason Jade and Floyd's names aren’t on this list?”

Jade spoke up, “I was also wondering. You are aware that my brother and I are in Mostro Lounge’s kitchen more than Azul is. We'd be best to bring dishes since most of the attendees are not so…culinarily inclined.”

Yuu had been poised to slap their pointer to Kalim’s name, pausing and looking over their shoulder to Jade, “Oh, You're not allowed to participate in prep.”

“...” Azul leaned forward in his seat, making a point to also scoot away from a now blank faced Jade, “You want us…namely me…to tell Floyd he isn't allowed to participate in a group activity that almost everyone else is allowed a hand in?”

“Yes.”

“...Do you not love me anymore?”

SMACK “Kalim-”

“Answer me?”

“-You will actually be securing a tableware set for the festivities. Nothing insane; simple but with a hint of fancy and lots of serving platters and bowls. Crystal or China is traditional, but I'll let you pick what you think would be nice within reason.”

Kalim had perked up, a story about how he had the perfect gold and gem-encrusted dish set dying on his tongue as he thought Yuu's request over, “Don't you…have a room in Ramshackle filled with tableware you found? It was some pretty nice stuff from what Cater told me…”

“Oh yeah. So after some further investigation, turns out all of that was just cursed and Sam has since confiscated it from my property. The cutlery was fine though, so we're good on that front, but if you find something to match the table set, get it.”

“...Okay!” Kalim quickly pulled out his phone, looking up tableware and just how many types of serving platters there were.

SMACK “Jamil.”

The look the vice gave them already showed how tired he was; a holiday based solely on hosting and seemingly meticulous planning of decorations and food prep sounded like an average day in the Asim household, making nothing new nor relaxing to Jamil.

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Parden?”

“The actual task you'd normally be assigned is ‘Day-of Cooking’, but I'm not going to do that to you. So just…show up or don't. Take a nap the day of honestly, me or Kalim will bring you a plate.”

By the Seven, he loved this girl…

SMACK “Vil, you bring a salad. That is all I can trust you with.”

The Pomefiore head stopped looking at his nails with half-lidded eyes, glaring at Yuu's impassive expression, “Do you believe in my cooking skills so little!?”

“Yes. Though, I do have a secondary job for you. It’s to make sure, everyone is within dress code for the meal-”

Leona spoke up, folding his arms with a scowl, “Hold on, you never said there was a dress code-”

Vil raised his hand to Leona's face without looking, promptly silencing the other warden, “What's the dress code?”

“We wanna hover around the casual zone, but not informal. Best option is to be smart casual just tipping into business casual.

Vil had pulled out his own notebook without prompt, writing down notes and sketching out silhouettes of outfits, “Color scheme?”

“The holiday color scheme is fall theming, the warm tones with pops of purple and green. You don't need to follow color tones for the meal, though. Just make sure you're dressed for like…a nice dinner.

“My nice and your nice are two very different things, but noted.”

Rolling their eyes they slap the pointer to the screen, “Epel is allowed to bring anything apples are used in. Which is my way of saying he’s bringing pork tenderloin.”

Jade raised his hand, now fully glaring toward Yuu, “Funny how your friends are allowed to bring dishes.”

“Jade, you can’t be fucking trusted to not put poison in the food. So to be fair, Floyd isn’t allowed to help out either.” Yuu looks toward Rook, fluttering their eyelashes as they tapped his name gently multiple times, “My dear ex.”

Rook smiled back, leaning against the back of his hand and fluttering his eyelashes back, “Mon vieille amor?”

“You have the most important job of hunting down a massive turkey for us since that will be the centerpiece dish of the meal.”

“A hunt!?” Rook stood up so fast his chair slammed into the floor, “I shall make haste!” he raced out of the room, leaping from the window and disappearing around a corner outside.

Vil sighed, writing the last of his outfit ideas before packing up his items and walking out of the room, “Riddle, please forward your notes to me. I'll be free for style suggestions should anyone need them.”

Yuu calls out to him, “A salad! You're bringing a salad!”

Vil's middle finger was flashed just before the door closed behind him.

Rolling her eyes, Yuu turned back to the screen, “Idia, your job is to show up.”

“I'd rather not-”

“Too bad, it's mandatory. I already texted Ortho.”

Idias's tablet dinged from his hands. Looking at the screen his face pinched. Ortho was already sending him smiley emojis and rapid-fire messages on how excited he was to design a new shell and take photos of the upcoming group dinner. Sprinkled in were pleading and pensive faces begging that he agree to come and didn’t try to weasel his way out.

Glaring over his screen, already typing out a reply to Ortho's multiple messages, “You're a bitch.”

“Wear an actual outfit. Malleus.” SMACK.

The fae was still looking contently at his invitation, nodding as he already understood what Yuu was asking of him, “I'm aware of my job.”

“He can not know.”

“Lilia will only be made aware as we are dressing for the festivities.”

“You are one of the treasures of my life. Silver is tasked with making bread rolls for the dinner. Sebek is going to be helping me make the rest of the menu the night before/day of.” Yuu put the pointer back in its collapsible mode, putting the screen back up and clicking the projector off.

Leona raised an eyebrow but said nothing when Yuu had grabbed a stapler sitting beside him.

Riddle was too busy double-checking his notes, but Trey attempted to stop Yuu as she walked past, “What…what do you have there Yuu?”

“As stated at the beginning of my presentation, I have to go beat Sebek into submission and we have a rule now that I'm not allowed to use a brick anymore.” Yuu waved the stapler around, “So I’m going to use this instead.”

My take on Pilgrims and Native Americans in Twist

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #yuu oc #twst heartslabyul #twst savanaclaw #twst octavinelle #twst scarabia #twst pomefiore #twst ignihyde #twst diasomnia

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maryonmega · 3 days ago

Text

You didn't ask

It's an idea that came to me in a dream and I posted on AO3 a few days ago: Vaugardians have the capacity to turn into dragons. There's some brainstormed lore too, but I'd rather leave it open for any future additions.

I call it Draconic Vaugard AU!

Again, thank you, @chimerical-daydreams for the designs

You wake up feeling like shit.

No surprise there. You heard the Head Housemaiden tell you to rest and not use craft for a while, then used craft again not even plural hours later.

Not that you regret it.

Your body is stiff and sore, but you can still move your neck enough to look out the window. It's clearly well into morning now. The House doesn't loom over you like a haunted castle anymore. The birds once frozen mid flight now cross the sky as free as nature intented.

On the bed besides yours, Odile is already awake and flipping through the familytale you got her two days ago. Her craft exaustion is not as bad as yours. She didn't loop through time hundreds of times then cut through the House alone then turned into a wish craft titan. But she did stop you from looping. That took strenght.

You hear footsteps up the stairs. Careful, but still noisy.

"Frin!"

Despite the soreness, you smile.

"Bonbon."

They're not as careful now, marching to beside the bed you're in. They have a tray in hands, and an excited look on their face.

"The tall lady said you need to rest, so I didn't wake you up, but you still have to get your strenght back, so you better eat too! But Dile also said you must have had my snacks a bunch of times, so I made a breakfast I'm sure you didn't have in forever school!"

My, someone's hyper. Not that you can blame them. You have to get better, than you all can get on your way to Bambouche.

"Thank you, snack leader, for providing."

Bonbon nods with pride, and puts the tray on your lap.

You try to sit up. Your arms give in before you can rise too much.

"Oh! Right! I have to tell everyone you're awake!"

You hear them rush down. The weight of the tray a tempting thing over your lap. What's this? Punishment?

Odile smirks at you. She must have noticed. Traitor.

"Good morning."

"Please, spare me. I just woke up."

"I haven't said anything. Yet." She marks and closes the book, her attention fully on you now "How are you feeling, Siffrin?"

"Like I got stomped on by many horses."

Odile nods, serious.

"Thank you for your honesty. Please be honest with the person taking care of your medication, too."

"I only lied two times!"

"You've been like this for a day and a half. And spent half of that time unconscious."

She's got you there.

There's footsteps again. More than one set this time. Bonnie bursts into the room like it's a competition. You're kind of scared they'll hit their face on the foot of the bed for a moment but they stop on time. Mira and Isa come in at a more reasonable speed.

"See? They're still awake! And tried to move, too!"

"Already?" Mira looks actually glad. Good "You really recover fast, Siffrin. Uhn, don't force yourself to get good faster, though. You might strain yourself."

You try to give her a thumbs up. Your arm is sore.

"Need help, buddy?"

Embarrassing~

You still nod. Isa gets beside you to help prop you up and sit against the headboard. You can see your breakfast now. No wonder there was good weight! Bread, jam, juice, cut fruit, even a couple chausson aux pommes. Someone takes the "regain strenght" expression seriously!

"Thank you." You offer your best smile and scoop up a piece of peach with the spoon "You're a peach."

You got a laught. Morning victory.

Chomp!

Stars, without the smell of burning sugar lingering all the time you can actually taste food!

"So, Siffrin..." Mirabelle sits on the bed, opposite side from Bonnie "Where are we?"

"In the clocktower."

"What happened two days ago?"

"We unfroze Vaugard."

"And why are you and Madame in bed rest?"

"Craft exaustion."

"He is conscious. Good!"

She claps her hands and straights her back.

"Am I losing something?"

On the other bed, Odile put the familytale on the headboard.

"You see, we intent to-"

"WE'RE GOING TO NILLE AS SOON AS YOU CAN STAND!"

"Boniface!"

"Sorry! But yes! You just need to get to stand again!"

"Well, being able to stand is just the The reference. Walking would be much better." Isa adds, and gives a half chuckle.

You swallow your food and look at him just to have a focus point.

You know just because you can walk doesn't mean you should walk long distances, specially as soon as you're able. Sure, if your friends want to go as soon as possible you can endure it, but...

"Isn't that a little risky?"

"A little, but it's faster." You can't argue with Mirabelle on that "That's why I think you should go on Isabeau." Wait, what? "He's bigger and his shape makes it easier to get a grip lying down. You can get some rest! I guess? You should probably do a test first? I know Madame Odile will be better too so she can go on me."

What?

Beside you, Isa nods.

"Right... Are you really okay with flying, Madame?"

What????????

"I'll survive, I guess. As long as Mirabelle doesn't mind getting more ties than a race horse."

"He, I'll survive too."

"Wait? What?! Fly?!?!"

Bonnie pouts.

"Of course we'll fly! The birds unfroze too, so it's safe now!"

"No! I mean, I know, just-!" You take a bite of one of the apple pastries. Delicious "How are you even going to do that?! And you're talking like it's no big deal!"

"Because, it's not?" Mira is looking at you with confusion "Wait, you don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"We can turn into dragons."

...

You pinch your arm with nail.

Ow.

You're still here.

Wait a minute!

"You're pulling a prank on me!"

Odile opened her mouth. Before she spoke, Bonbon took a leap back, and-

It wasn't done in a flash, but, once it was, Bonbon was like a big eel with wings.

You think you're going crazy.

"Wh- I- You- Why didn't any of you do that all this time?!"

This time Isa responded.

"We didn't need to? Sure, flying is fast traveling, but you saw the birds, we didn't want to risk it. Tents and inns made to accomodate dragon forms are too expensive for long traveling. And, you saw Bonbon just now, it's not exactly puf and done, so not a good option when ambushed by an angry sadness."

This makes so much sense it's somehow making you feel crazier.

Little dragon Bonbon landed beside your legs on the bed, legless body slithering over the sheets. They look adorable.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Mira looks embarrassed. Oops, you said something wrong.

"I thought you knew." She looks away, fidgeting with her fingers.

How would you know when nobody tells you?????

"And, it's not like we talk about this all the time. It's weird!"

When your bafflement wears off, half of the breakfast is gone.

"How is it weird to talk about being dragons?!"

"Well Sif, think." Isa places a hand behind your back "It's just how Vaugardians are. Just another part of our lives. It would be like going to a place where people are like "Hello, I'm human", y'know?"

You nod.

...

No. You're not petting Bonnie like a dog. That's still a person.

You down the rest of your fruit.

"Why did you need the orbs, then? Couldn't you just, break down the gate?"

Silence. Were... Were those months of traveling for no reason?

Mira visibly holds back from picking at her nails.

"Siffrin, do you know what the orbs are?"

You're quiet, then shake your head.

"They're craft breakers. Very powerful craft breakers."

"Okay, what does that have to do with not breaking down the gate?"

"Houses of Change have shield craft on the outside. It's a particularly powerful craft, made by multiple people at once. So nobody can be made to break a House from outside. Even if multiple people do so as dragons."

... Oh.

"Combine with the time freeze, and it would be a lost battle. Thankfully, five orbs were enough to break the time craft. But, if they weren't, hopefully they would be powerful enough to break the shielding."

Oh.

Just... outside? Does that mean that the insides are breakable?

They are. You know they are. You broke that counter. Does that mean the other doors were breakable, too?

If... If you weren't so hasty to freeze yourself, would them decide that turning to try and break the door was an option?

"Something on your mind Sif?"

LIGHTLESS CODE LIGHTLESS CODE THINK OF SOMETHING!

"So all those stories about hoarding dragons are racist?"

Mira gives you an awkward smile.

"I, don't really want to say yes. Every tree bears bad fruit, and the loud ones get more noticed. If there's any type of predisposition, it's to get hyperfixations. For exemple, you can say I "hoard" classes."

You hear Bonbon make a noise, and see them wiggle and land on the floor. A bit of time, and they were a smiling human again.

"Oh! Oh! I guess I hoard recipes, then!"

"Interesting." Odile hums, and her gaze gets in your direction. What- "Do you hoard anything, Isabeau?"

Isa gives a big nod.

"Friends!"

Mira's face goes from awkward to pondering, and then realisation.

"Wait! So those cuddle piles after getting the orbs...?"

"Sleeping over my hoard."

You can't help but chuckle. He looks so proud, too!

"Why the surprise? Isn't your room on the last floor with dorms, Mirabelle?"

Mira starts stuttering. Poor lady. On the other side, Bonnie pouts.

"That's dumb. I don't sleep over recipe books."

"Maybe your time will come. You don't know."

Mira's turn to give a mischievous smile.

Stars, you could hear them for hours.

"Okaaaay, so, I'll have to see if I can safely ride Isa?"

You hear a squeak, and the hand on your back gets taken off so fast you hang way from the headboard for a couple of seconds.

"Sif! Don't say it like that!"

"Why? It's what I'll do, right?"

Odile is smiling so broard. What?

"Young one, you need to learn some Vaugardian idioms with urgency."

You blink.

You've been really left out, haven't you?

--------------------------------------------------------------

You're able of walking! A little bit. You need help to walk more than a couple of meters, but it's progress! Progress enough to do the test, it seens.

Bonnie lets go of your hand and gives you a pat on the side.

"Ask to get down if you need to, okay? Don't need you falling off and needing extra rest to recover from broken bones!"

Of course that's how they say it.

You nod.

"Alright, Za! Do the thing!"

"Your wish is my command!"

Just like before, it's not a snap of fingers.

You're not sure what you were expecting. You didn't expect Bonnie to be a winged eel. You think whatever came would take you aback.

Isa looks like a large lizard with wings, scaly and with a set of horns. Curiously, still regornizable. You... actually like that.

He lays on the floor, and moves his tail, inviting. Mira helps you get on his back, then backs off to where Odile is waiting with a saddle and chains. You can't judge her.

Another little scene, and you see Mira in all her glory. She looks like a mix between a snake and a bird, full of feathers. Regornizable. Bonnie too. All three are regornizable on those forms.

Hum, maybe that's why body craft is still prevalant. Maybe they don't really control how the forms will be without it.

You're unsure of what to do with your hands, then finally decide to just grasp the horns.

It's not so odd when you feel him lift into his paws. It is when he spreads his wings and starts lifting. And lifting. And lifting. You see the ground get farther. Without thinking, your grip tightens around the horns.

You... think there's an ulterior motive to choose this.

They must have missed flying.