#without having to get violent to defend your point?? do better
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make this place your home - r.c.
Rafe Cameron x Maybank!reader

summary: Rafe has been begging you to move in with him, but when you finally show him the place your heart belongs to, he realizes he'd do anything to make you happy.
content: fluff, angst, a drizzle of spice, semi-canon obx if you were to eliminate some pretty important things lol
cw: mentions of blood and injury, suggestive comments, closed-door romance, mentions of abusive parents (Luke)
note: my contribution to @zyafics mrga campaign <3
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“Don’t open your eyes yet!”
“I’m gonna trip over something and fall on my ass. Or run into something. This is The Cut, who knows what junk is just lying around. I’m gonna get tetris or some shit.”
You laughed out loud. Rafe nearly opened his eyes to figure out why.
“See, now you’re laughing at me, you better not be doing some dumb shit to me for a Tiktok,” he warned.
“Oh my god, you’re such a baby, calm down,” you chuckled. “I’m laughing because you’re cute. It’s tetanus, not tetris.”
He should feel embarrassed, but the sound of your laugh and of you calling him cute calmed every muscle in his body. You were a balm that went straight to his agitated heart.
You were the only one who could disarm him when he got irritated like this. You told him once that you don’t take his bad moods personally because you can see them for what they are - he’s not angry, he’s anxious. He realized then that you’re the only person who’d ever really understood him, that you might understand him better than he understands himself.
It’s why his shoulders relax now, it’s why he can take a deep breath. There was no one else in the world who could convince him to let them drive his boat while he’s blindfolded or walk through the tall, marshy grass without knowing where he was going. Only you.
“Can I open my eyes now?” He asked.
“We’re not there yet,” you shook your head, hand still on his arm to lead him closer to your surprise. “You can go one more minute without seeing where you’re going.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know if I can go another minute without seeing you,” he flirted.
You smiled, tempted to rip the blindfold off him and forget all about the surprise. Too bad for him you already knew all his tricks.
“Nice try, Cameron.”
As you got closer, your stomach twisted. Maybe this was stupid. After all, wouldn’t it be underwhelming to Rafe after all he’s seen? This place meant so much to you, you didn’t know if you could handle any criticism from him. You considered turning around, but you’d already made such a big deal out of this, how would you explain it to him?
“Okay, this is a good spot, I guess,” you said, your voice shaking with trepidation.
“You good?” Rafe asked. Of course he could tell your mood shifted without even looking at you.
“Yeah, I think, just open your eyes.” At this point you just wanted to get his inevitable disappointment over with.
Slowly, Rafe opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to adjust to the blinding Carolina sunlight before finally sizing up your big reveal.
It was your house, the one he’d been to a hundred times before - sneaking into your window so your brother wouldn’t hear, showing up in the night to investigate when you “heard a noise,” defending you from Luke when he got violent. Except, this wasn’t the same house. It was bigger, for one. And slightly better, with new walls, a new roof, and a big, hand painted flag in your brother’s handwriting: “Poguelandia.”
It wasn’t much, but it was your dream come true. In your eyes, you may as well have been standing in front of a magic castle. As you watched Rafe’s expression stay completely unchanged you realized that to him, it probably still looked like some shitty shack on The Cut. You wished you never brought him here.
“This is what you guys have been working on this whole time?” He asked, still looking at the house and not at you.
“Yeah, I mean, and the store,” you gestured to the dock behind you where you and your friends had built yourselves a small business. Another thing that would surely seem pathetic compared to what Rafe was used to.
“It’s nice, I like it,” Rafe said.
“No it’s okay, you don’t have to lie,” you said, voice small. You started to turn to leave. “I shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it, let’s just go-”
“Hey, woah, woah,” Rafe interrupted you gently.
He approached you from behind, arms twisting around your waist, forcing you to turn back and look at your home. He had to duck down to slot his chin into your shoulder, swaying you both gently.
“If I had to come all this way, I think I at least deserve the grand tour, don’t I?” he mumbled into your ear.
Your smile returned, you nuzzled your cheek into his, heart swelling.
“I guess, if you insist,” you said with a cheeky grin.
“I do,” he nodded, tickling your neck with his buzzed hair. He tilted his head down to place a sloppy kiss into the crook of your shoulder. “I’m especially looking forward to seeing your bedroom.”
“You mean the one I share with your sister?”
He groaned, “why do you torture me like this?”
“Because it’s fun.” You twisted away from his hold and slid your hand down his arm to interlock your fingers with his.
Rafe followed you onto the porch. You paused at the front door for dramatic effect.
“Hello MTV, welcome to my crib!”
Rafe smiled as you cracked up at your own joke, but his momentary joy turned sour when you opened the door and revealed an unwelcome sight on the other side; the Pogues.
The lively discussion that had been filling your shared living room stopped dead in its tracks. The room turned cold. Six icy stares were aimed in your boyfriend’s direction.
You understood why they disliked him so much. He didn’t put much effort into changing their minds. But he’d changed yours. And though you’d tried for years not to, you loved him. Neither of you had said it yet, but you knew it was true, at least for you.
There had been countless arguments between you and your brother and the shared friends that were basically family about Rafe. Countless fights you’d stopped between JJ and Rafe, countless nights begging Rafe just to try a little harder, begging JJ just to give him a chance. They both cared for you enough not to kill each other, but it was a reluctant ceasefire. A fragile peace you were always vigilant to protect. A truce that could be broken at any moment. You prayed this wasn’t that moment.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you guys were home,” you explained. The six pogues shared concerned glances with each other, something unsaid that you felt had nothing to do with you walking in with their least favorite person. “What’s going on?”
Kie stood, shot a brief but blazing glare towards Rafe, and handed you a piece of paper. You read it carefully, your eyebrows creased in confusion that was slowly morphing into great concern. Rafe read over your shoulder.
It was an official warning from the Kildare City Council. The land you were standing on and the home you’d built would be rezoned. They were taking Poguelandia.
“What the hell?” You shouted. “Can they actually do this?”
“Looks like they already are,” John B confirmed.
“No, no. There has to be something we can -”
“There’s not!” JJ stood from his seat at the far end of the room.
You could see it all over his face, the anger that was always lying just beneath the surface starting to make its way to the top. Everyone thought of JJ as a happy-go-lucky, silly, mischievous kid. And he was all those things, but he was something else, something only you really saw; a hurt kid who never healed.
“There’s never something we can do,” JJ continued, stalking slowly toward you, but keeping his eyes locked on Rafe the whole time. “Not when Kooks are involved. They always win.”
“Back up, Maybank,” Rafe snarled, looking down at JJ, who’d gotten close enough to break the barrier of Rafe’s personal space.
You stepped between them instinctually, a move you’d made a hundred times before.
“Stop.” You put a gentle hand on JJ’s chest to back him up, but he didn’t budge. “This isn’t his fault, J.”
“How do we know that, huh?” JJ finally tore his eyes off Rafe to look at you. “How do we know he’s not behind it somehow? Trying to steal our land for another bougie ass development project. You can’t trust these people, sis. How many times do we have to get screwed by them before you realize it?”
You and your brother looked at each other for a long time. The rest of the room watched as the two of you seemed to have a conversation none of them could hear; the unspoken language of siblings who’d been to hell and back together.
After a long moment, you turned your gaze toward Rafe.
“Do- do you know anything about this?” You asked him hesitantly.
His face fell. A series of emotions flashed across his features so quickly, you were sure you were the only one in the room who caught them all; surprise, betrayal, hurt, anger, and finally, back to his go-to: detached stoicism.
“That’s really what you think of me? That I’d do something like this?” His tone was even, his voice far away even though you were inches apart.
You knew you’d hurt him by even entertaining the idea that he’d betray you like this. But this ground was shaky, and you had been screwed over by Kooks your entire life. The trust you put in him did not come easy, and sometimes it wavered, even though he’d never given it any reason to.
Rafe’s jaw clenched when you didn’t answer. He nodded once, his lips twisting into the kind of smile that had absolutely no joy behind it.
“Unbelievable.” He muttered.
He took one last searing look around the room, twelve hateful eyes met him, and he didn’t look at your watery ones before turning and storming out of the house, the newly installed screen door banging shut behind him.
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Your knees were tucked all the way to your chest, your chin resting on them as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to manufacture any sort of comfort. It wasn’t working.
The zone change notice sat on the bed in front of you. You read it over and over, as though if you just wanted it badly enough, the words would change into something less devastating.
You were going to lose your home. You’d probably lost the love of your life, before you could even tell him he was the love of your life. Your brother was one step from completely falling over the edge, the rocky path toward destruction that you’d pulled him back from your whole lives getting steeper by the minute. A few hours ago you were excitedly cleaning this room so you could show Rafe. How could so much change in so little time?
A knock at the door pulled you from your spiraling thoughts.
“Come in,” you said quietly.
The door creaked slightly despite it being brand new. Sarah tiptoed into the room gently, searching you for any signs of distress.
“Sar, you don’t have to knock to come into your own room,” you told her.
“I know, I just thought maybe you needed some space.”
You shook your head and scooted over on the bed to make space for her. She took your invitation with a smile and settled in next to you.
“So…how’s your day going?” She asked in a singy-songy voice.
You both erupted in bittersweet laughter.
“Oh y’know, I’ve had better.”
She nudged your arm with her elbow.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, you know.” She assured you.
“Is it though? I mean really, Sar, is it?” No laughter hung in the air now. “I mean, what if I just lost my home and my boyfriend? Or worse, what if I just lost my home to my boyfriend.”
“You really think Rafe would’ve done something like this?” She asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want to. You heard him though, when I asked him about it, he didn’t deny it.”
Sarah sighed, a deep exhale that usually signaled she was about to say something she didn’t want to.
“What?” You prodded.
“Look, I’m not my brother’s biggest fan, you know that,” she began.
“Um yes, you’ve made that very clear,” you chuckled, thinking of all the times Sarah had warned you not to get involved with Rafe.
“But, just this one time, I’m going to…” She paused dramatically, her eyes screwed shut with reluctance. “...defend him.”
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Be honest, how hard was that for you to say?” You teased.
“I’m holding back vomit right now,” she laughed.
“Well then defend him quickly before you yack on my bed.”
“Okay, I just,” she paused to consider her words carefully. “I know you know Rafe really well. I mean you’re the only one he’s ever really let in, so you probably know him better than anyone. But I’ve known him longer than anyone. I’ve seen every version of him. I knew Rafe before he met you, and now I know him after he met you, and believe me when I tell you, those two are not the same guy. As cliche as it sounds, you changed him.”
You sat in silence, letting the words settle over you, surprised by how emotional they were making you. You willed the tears forming in your eyes not to fall.
“Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a dick,” Sarah added. You were grateful for a reason to laugh before you started crying. “But he’s not the same. There was a time where I’d say ‘absolutely, Rafe definitely did this just to screw us over,’ but not anymore. Not since he fell in love with you.”
You looked up in surprise, the tears at your lash line threatening to finally spill over.
“You think he loves me?”
“Girl, be so for real. That man has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. Believe me, he’s yours.”
Your heart skipped, and the tears finally fell. You rose from the bed so suddenly, Sarah almost fell back onto the mattress. You didn’t know what had taken over you, just that you needed to go, now. Everything in you was being pulled toward him, like sand being dragged back out to sea by the tide. If you spent one more minute of your life without him knowing what you were so certain of now, you might not make it.
Sarah smiled at you, she read it all over your face.
“Go!” She urged.
“Love you!” You shouted over your shoulder as you raced out of your bedroom.
“Love you too, you freak,” she smiled to herself, knowing you were already long gone.
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Where could he have gone? Your mind flipped through all the possibilities as you ran across the lawn toward the dock. JJ would probably be pissed that you took The Snapper without asking first, but didn’t even care about that right now. You just needed to find Rafe.
You didn’t have to search for long.
As soon as your feet hit the wooden dock, they stopped in their tracks.
At the end of the pier sat Rafe’s boat bobbing in the water. The long figure of your boyfriend leaned over the bow. You watched with a big, bright smile as he untied the line, then retied it, then untied it, and retied it once more. He was clearly having a silent disagreement with himself. All that mattered to you was that he hadn’t left.
You approached slowly, avoiding the planks in the dock you knew would creak and give away your presence. The closer you got to him, the faster your heart beat. The words you were dying to say sat perched at the end of your tongue, you knew they wouldn’t be able to hang on much longer.
Half way through untying the boat again, Rafe stopped and sighed.
“Need a push?” You said.
His eyes shot up to yours, startled. Tension filled his shoulders as he took you in, his shock quickly fading to something softer, yet still unsure.
“That depends,” he squinted in the sun to see you better.
God, he was gorgeous. You could not let him get away.
“Depends on what?” You played along.
“If my girlfriend will forgive me for being a dismissive prick,” he said.
You forced your lips not to twist into a smile, pretending to consider his words.
“I think she might. If you forgive her first,” you said.
His eyes softened, lips twitching. You were both failing not to smile at each other now.
Rafe finally tied up the boat for good, hopping up onto the dock. You admired every movement of his body as it drew closer to yours. When he reached you, he placed his hands on your waist, your arms drawing up to wrap around his neck, stretching up on your tiptoes to get as close to him as possible.
“She has nothing to apologize for. The only home she’s ever known is being threatened. She’s just scared. I get that.”
Every word fanned over you like a soft summer breeze. Your heart warmed, impossibly full despite all the anxieties today had brought. He just got you, he understood without you having to say it. This must be the closest two people can get to making magic, you thought.
“Thank you,” you let your head fall forward to rest on his chest. He kissed the top of your head.
“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispered into your hair.
You looked back up at him, shaking your head.
“How is everything gonna be okay, Rafe? What if there really is nothing we can do? I mean, who’s even behind this?”
Rafe didn’t answer, but one name popped into his mind. Even with his suspicions, he didn’t know if he could help you. Helplessness was the feeling he despised more than any other, especially when it came to you.
“I don’t know,” he said, his heart breaking at the despairing look on your face. “But you’ve still got me. You could always move into the condo with me, like I’ve been begging you for months.”
“Can I bring my friends with me?” You scrunched up your nose, hoping he’d find you cute enough to say yes.
“I love you, but there’s no way in hell…”
A bolt of lightning shot through you, goosebumps erupting over your entire body. Did he really just say…?
He instantly read the shock on your face, but there was no look of regret on his.
“What? Haven’t I said I love you before?”
“Umm, no, I think I would’ve remembered that!” You couldn’t help the big, goofy grin taking over your whole face.
“Oh, well that’s weird,” he shrugged, his hands sliding from your waist to your lower back, wrapping his strong arms around you and lifting you off your feet. “Because I do love you, so fucking much.”
You yelped as he lifted you into the air, head falling back in laughter as he almost tumbled you both off the dock in his effort to sweep you off your feet.
You looked down at him and he lowered you slowly, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, arms still wrapped around each other like you’d never let go. You stood there embracing for a long time, so long that the sun was starting to set, casting a golden shimmer across the water.
Finally you said, “I never gave you the grand tour.”
“And I was really looking forward to seeing your crib,” he teased, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck when he talked.
“Well, c’mon then.” You grabbed his hand, leading him back toward the house, both of you buzzing with the excitement that there was something much better than a tour waiting for you inside.
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“...And this is John B and JJ’s room,” you opened the door only a crack, afraid to unleash the stench that permanently filled the space. “They insisted on getting bunk beds even though they’re, like, forty. And Pope insisted on having his own room because, as he said, ‘JJ is a walking biohazard.’ Which is…fair.”
Rafe was just watching you with adoration as you showed him around the house. He was barely looking at the rooms you were showing him because he was so focused on the way you glowed with joy. It was true that he wanted you to move to Bayline with him, it was his life’s goal to get you there, actually, but he had to admit that you seemed like you really belonged here. He’d never seen you look more at home.
“And this is our gallery wall.” You gestured to the display of framed photographs hanging in the upstairs hallway.
Rafe surveyed them dutifully with his hands tucked politely behind his back, like an old man in an art museum. Most of the photographs were of you and the pogues at various times in your life. Out fishing in the marsh, riding dirt bikes, post-surf at the beach. You admired the way Rafe was looking so intently and resisting the urge to grimace at so many photos of you with his once sworn enemies.
He explored the wall, eyes lingering on any photo of you a little longer than the rest. The hall continued to lead down toward your bedroom. At the very end, in a high corner, just above a series of photo booth pictures you’d taken with Sarah and Kie last summer, hung a delicate circular frame featuring a worn-out picture almost too small to see. Rafe leaned in for a better look.
In the photo, which was a tad faded and clearly taken several years ago, was a young guy, probably about 30, holding two young kids on his lap. The slightly bigger one, a boy, held up a trout he’d just caught, flashing a toothless grin. The little girl beamed at the man holding her.
It took Rafe a moment, but when he felt your weight shift next to him uncomfortably, he put it all together. The photo was you, JJ, and Luke. Probably the only one you had. And despite everything Luke had put you through, you’d hung it on the wall to see everyday.
Rafe turned to you, you were looking down at your feet, toes digging anxiously into the rug. His heart ached. If anyone knew what it was like to have a complicated relationship with their father, it was him. The fact that you’d still given Luke some dignity in this house he almost destroyed so many times said so much about you, and reminded him why he loved you so much.
“You wanna show me your room now?” He asked gently.
You looked up at him with glassy eyes and a small smile, “yeah.”
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The door clicked closed softly. Rafe took in the room, immediately identifying which bed was yours and which bed (the messy, half-made one) was his sister’s.
“Sarah doesn’t spend much time in here,” you admitted.
“No?” He asked, keeping his eyes off of you, the closed door suddenly adding a nervous energy to the room he wasn’t expecting.
“She mainly sleeps with John B.” Rafe grimaced, you hurried to reassure him. “Like, in his bed I mean, or his bunk I guess. Not, like sleep with him sleep with him, although I’m sure there’s plenty of that -”
“I’m literally begging you to stop talking,” he said, his eyes finding the ceiling, no doubt trying to erase the mental picture you just created for him.
“Sorry,” you chuckled.
Rafe wandered around the room some more, taking in all your decorations. He never understood why someone could collect so many knick-knacks that seemed to be worth nothing, but there was something endearing about it that drew him to you even more. Just another in a long line of things that would annoy him with someone else, but enchanted him with you.
As your time alone in the room dragged on, the air became tenser. You felt yourself watching him, but unable to move, back pressed up against the door, frozen in anticipation.
You and Rafe had been alone together before - and you had been together before - but something had shifted out on that dock. Something that you knew you couldn’t take back, and didn’t want to. In fact, you only wanted to solidify it more.
“Rafe,” you said softly, finally pulling his attention away from your decor.
He looked up at you expectantly, like he had been waiting for you to give him permission to. He didn’t respond, just walked slowly toward you, his eyes on yours the whole way. Your heart was beating out of your chest.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” you said, trying to laugh to break the tension, though the sound came out more like a hiccup.
“Has something changed?” He wondered aloud.
“Yeah, I guess it has.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “Because today I realized two important things.”
“What two things?” He asked, surprised, and a little alarmed, by your answer.
“The first is that this is my home, and that in a way, it will always be my home. And yet at the same time, I also realized that you’re my future, and I love you.”
Rafe’s smile spread slowly, like he was taking in each word one at a time. His blue eyes sparkled - like actually sparkled - with joy. Maybe you were imagining it, but it didn’t matter, you just wanted him to keep looking at you like that.
“Oh you love me, huh?” His voice was low and dangerous, he stepped closer until he was towering over you.
“Yeah, haven’t I said that before?” You echoed his words from earlier back to him.
He just shook his head at you, tucking his tongue in the corner of his cheek to try and tame his smile. His hands found your waist like they were made to fit there. His voice carried down to your very core as he leaned in.
“You know you can’t take it back now, right?”
“Why would I take it back? I mean it, Rafe, with everything I have. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And he showed you. His body enveloping yours as he backed you up against the door and kissed you deeply. A whole new energy between you now, your need and your affection for each other stronger than ever.
Before you could get carried away, footsteps on the stairs reminded you of a very crucial step of bringing your boyfriend home.
“Wait, hold on.” You pulled away from Rafe and he frowned. His disappointment was so cute you were tempted to kiss the pout right off of him, but first you rummaged through a drawer in you and Sarah’s shared dresser.
“What is that?” Rafe asked when you pulled out a conch shell glued to a piece of twine.
“Just a little system Sarah and I have.” You winked at him, opening the door just a crack to hang the shell from the doorknob.
“Do I want to know?” Rafe asked.
“I don’t know, do you want to talk more about your sister’s love life, or work on ours?” You bit back your smile when he cringed at your words, suddenly realizing Sarah’s use for the shell with a shudder.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he said, before scooping you up and carrying you over his shoulder, just to drop you on the bed with a bounce.
“Yes, I am,” you smiled up at him.
And he showed you, over and over, just how lucky you were.
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It was different this time, more passionate, more intense, more everything. And when he held you after, whispering more I love you’s into your hair, and neck, and the side of your face, you knew it must’ve felt the same for him, too.
You laid tucked into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could intertwine his fingers with yours as you both stared up at the ceiling in pure bliss.
You sighed a happy, airy sigh and nuzzled closer to him.
“You know I just mean for now, right?” You said.
He twisted his neck at what must’ve been an uncomfortable angle to try and see your face.
“You just love me for now?” He asked, incredulous.
“No, no!” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant to say, this is just my home for now.”
“Oh, okay,” he rested his head back onto the pillow. “That’s better, I guess.”
You sat up, shuffling through the sheets so you could see him. You brought your legs up and sat criss cross on the bed next to him. Rafe lazily reached out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear as he waited for the words he knew you were trying to formulate. He loved that you thought so hard before speaking, always determined to say what you mean. You loved that he waited to hear what you had to say, a patience he reserved almost exclusively for you.
“I know it must seem weird,” you began, “that I’m so attached to a place with so many bad memories. And I know you want me to live with you, and I want that too, eventually. But you have to understand, for so much of my life, it was just me and JJ. It was just us in this house. Even though a lot of it was us hiding from Luke or fending for ourselves when he didn’t come home for days at a time, there are good memories hidden in all the bad ones. Like, at the bottom of the stairs, there’s a spot where JJ and I accidentally ran our sled into the wall when we were stair-surfing. We covered it with chewed bubblegum and colored it in with marker, and Luke never noticed. Or in the kitchen, there’s tally marks under the countertop where we used to keep track of how many beers Luke had so we knew when it was time to go to John B’s for the night. And on the old dock, where our store is now, we made each other a pinky promise that someday we’d grow up and make something of ourselves and buy this house right out from under him. And we did it! And now, they’re just going to, what, take it away? Punish us for rising above the low expectations that they set for us? We were hurt here, yeah. But we also survived here. We did it together. I can’t leave that, or him, not now, not yet.”
Rafe drank in your words, and when tears came, he didn’t wipe them away or tell you to stop crying, he just let them fall. Let you feel what you needed to feel. His hand stayed firmly rested on your leg, there to hold only if you wanted it.
Through sobs you finally said, “this is our home, Rafe. We’re gonna lose our home.”
He’d heard enough. He stood from the bed quickly, pulling on his khakis and polo wordlessly.
“Where are you going?”
Rafe turned to look at you, saw the worry in your eyes and leaned over your bed so his face was level with yours. You would have been frightened by the steel in his eyes if you weren’t so excited by it.
“You asked me how it was going to be okay, right?” He said, voice low and tinged with danger.
You just nodded, unsure what to make of this sudden change in demeanor.
“It’s going to be okay because I’m going to make it okay.”
With that he stood and stalked toward the door, stopping to look at you one more time.
“Get some sleep, yeah? I’ll be back in a bit.”
You didn’t bother to ask where he was going, you knew he wasn’t going to tell you. When he had a plan like this, there was no slowing him down. Usually, his plans were self-serving. He was a strategist, like his father. Only now, it seemed, you were the beneficiary of his plot, and you weren’t sure what to expect.
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It sure as hell wasn’t the doorbell ringing at two in the morning.
It had started to storm and the thunder was rumbling through the house. It took a few rings before you could even hear the doorbell over the sound of the rain. Sarah lay on one side of you, Kie on the other, Cleo at the foot of the bed. They’d come to comfort you after Rafe left and you all cried yourself to sleep talking about the future of Poguelandia.
You accidentally kicked Cleo when you got up, who then kicked Sarah, who reached over and hit Kie in the arm as if it was her fault. Everyone was awake now.
“Noise. Bad. Make it stop,” Sarah grumbled into her pillow.
“Hit me again and I’ll make you stop breathing,” Kie said, her threat a little deflated considering she made it with her eyes still closed.
The doorbell rang out again, in rapid succession this time, causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.
“Who the hell rings the doorbell at 2 a.m.?” Sarah whined.
“If it’s those goddamn Jehovah’s Witnesses again, I’m gonna shove their little pamphlet down their throats,” Cleo said.
“I’ll get it,” you said through a yawn.
“Wait, you’re gonna go alone?” Kie grabbed your hand to pull you back.
“What if you get murdered?” Sarah said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
Kie and Sarah both climbed out of bed with you, but Cleo didn’t budge.
“If you get murdered let me know,” she said, pulling the blankets tighter around her. “I will avenge you.”
Kie rolled her eyes and pulled the blankets off Cleo, Sarah grabbed her hand to drag her from the bed.
“You’re coming with us, babe,” Sarah said over Cleo’s protests. “And bring your knife.”
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Lightning struck somewhere across the marsh at the exact second the door flew open. You and all three girls, wrapped in your blankets and holding various kitchen utensils, screamed at the sight on the other side. A dark figure of a man stood on the front porch, too far from the light for anyone to make out his identity. Cleo stepped in front of you all with her knife wielded.
“Hey! You better show yourself or get lost,” she shouted at the figure.
As the man slowly made his way into the flickering porch light, you realized you recognized the broad curve of those shoulders, the slope of that neck.
“Rafe,” you whispered.
Just as you identified him, the porch light swept across his face, and all four of you gasped.
The same places on his face you’d laid gentle kisses just a few hours ago were now black and blue, except in the places they were bloody. And he wasn’t walking slowly toward the light, he was limping, barely able to stand. He leaned against the door frame, holding his right hand in his left, his knuckles were raw and wounded.
“Rafe!” You repeated, pushing past your friends to get to him. You tried to support his weight but you couldn’t manage it alone. Sarah came to his other side to help catch him as he stumbled forward.
Kie, however, took a defensive step backward, her arms crossed over her chest. Cleo kept her knife raised.
“Think you can put down the knife now, babe,” Sarah told her.
“You never know,” Cleo said, narrowing her eyes at Rafe.
“Cleo, look at him,” you scolded.
She gave Rafe a once over, finally determining he wasn’t a threat in this state.
“Let’s get him on the couch,” you told Sarah. “Quickly, before he falls.”
Cleo stepped away to allow you to walk Rafe further into the living room. Kie created more distance between herself and your bloodied house guest. You searched her face quickly, it was a mixture of alarm and defensiveness. You could see the decision as it was being made, you tried to stop her but you were too late.
“Kie, wait!”
But she was already running up the stairs, surely to wake the boys. There was no version of these circumstances that would be made better by your half-awake, hotheaded brother.
You and Sarah finally got Rafe on the couch. He leaned forward, grimacing in pain as he propped his head in his hands. You knelt in front of him, trying to find his eyes with yours.
“Rafe, baby, what happened? Are you okay? Please talk to me.”
You placed your hands on his legs, rubbing soothing circles, begging him to fill the silence with an explanation. You looked at Sarah with pure panic in your eyes, she looked back with concern. Whether it was for you or for her brother, you weren’t sure.
“Rafe, it’s okay, whatever it is, you can tell us,” she encouraged him.
You’d never been more thankful for your best friend. You knew how much it took for her to offer him comfort like that.
You reached up to cup Rafe’s cheek in your hand, touching gently so as to not worsen his pain.
“Please, baby, what happened?”
He finally looked at you, and your heart skipped a beat. You thought maybe he was going to confess something terrible, or else cry out in agony. But instead, he just smiled that soft, sleepy half-smile of his and placed his hand over top of yours, caressing your skin with his thumb.
“I made it okay,” he whispered to you.
Before you could react, footsteps thundered down the stairs behind you, the fury of their descent louder than the storm outside.
“What the hell is going on?” JJ bellowed.
“What are you doing here, Cameron?” Pope followed up.
John B rushed to Sarah’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Everything okay?” He asked the both of you.
“I don’t know,” you shook your head, rising to sit next to Rafe on the couch, slipping your hand into his. The sight only enraged JJ further.
“You have ten seconds to explain yourself and stop bleeding on our fucking couch, Rafe.” JJ barked.
“Jay, can’t you see he’s obviously hurt?” You snapped at your brother.
“Looks more like he did the hurting,” JJ replied.
“You don’t know that! You always assume the worst!” You yelled.
“Because he is the worst!” JJ yelled right back.
You stood in anger, ready to fight your own brother in defense of the man at your side. But Rafe grabbed your hand and pulled you back towards him, not lifting his head as he held you in place. His other hand reached into his back pocket, pulling out a piece of paper that had been folded to protect it from the rain.
Rafe looked up finally, but not at you, at JJ. He extended his arm to offer JJ the piece of paper.
JJ tiptoed over as if Rafe had somehow booby trapped the floorboards between them. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics.
With all eyes on him, and no sound but the storm outside, JJ unfolded the piece of paper. He read it for a long time. Like, a really long time. The little sister in you had to bite back a joke about his intellect, and you met eyes with Pope to see he was holding back the same comment. Even in this incredibly adult moment, you were kids together.
Finally, JJ looked up from the paper. Staring incredulously at Rafe.
“Is this for real?” JJ asked him, eyebrows raised.
Rafe just nodded, the movement causing the cut on his lip to open, making him wince in pain. You sat down beside him again, watching him anxiously for signs that he was hurt elsewhere.
JJ just stared at the two of you for a moment before turning and leaving the room, dropping the piece of paper on the coffee table as he left. Pope and John B went to it immediately to read what had caused JJ to storm out, but you didn’t even care at this point, all that mattered was Rafe being okay, you needed him to be okay.
Except, JJ hadn’t stormed out. He had only gone to the kitchen, from which he was now returning, a bottle of whiskey and a bag of frozen peas in hand. He offered both to Rafe, Rafe opted for the whiskey. He twisted open the cap and took a sip, wincing as it went down.
You grabbed the peas from your brother, holding them up to Rafe’s black eye. He flinched at the contact but settled after a minute. JJ watched as Rafe placed his hand on your leg gratefully and handed back the bottle of whiskey.
“What’s the bourbon for? Drowning our sorrows?” Cleo asked.
“No,” John B said, he and Pope looking up from the paper with disbelieving grins. “Celebrating.”
“What does it say?” Kie asked, stepping further into the room, though she continued to eye Rafe like he was a wild animal that could go feral at any minute.
“We got the land back. They’re not rezoning,” Pope explained. “We’re keeping Poguelandia.”
The room froze for a minute, then erupted in a burst of hoots and hollers. Finally, the storm had some noise to compete with. The others hugged and cheered. Sarah rose from the couch and threw herself into John B’s arms.
“How’d you do it, man?” John B asked Rafe.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rafe said, squeezing your leg three times. “I just took care of it, okay?”
He sounded aggressive, like he always did when addressing these six people, but you saw this for what it really was - a peace offering. A grand gesture. A declaration of his love for you. He gave you your home back, he gave you everything.
As the others continued to celebrate, the volume in the house reaching new heights as they passed around the bottle of whiskey and toasted Poguelandia, you leaned into Rafe, your chin tucked into his shoulder so you could whisper something in his ear.
He smiled at your words, raising his arm to wrap around your shoulders and curling you toward him so he could bring his lips to your temple.
“I love you, too.”
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a/n: had to come out of retirement for this one, missed my boy too much. and holy shit did I have fun writing for rafey again. also this is as canon as I'll write Rafe lol
oh, and what did rafe have to do to get Poguelandia back? That stays between me and him xoxo
#zyafics-mrgacampaign#rafe cameron#obx#rafe#obx fic#rafe obx#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#jj maybank#Maybank!reader#Sarah Cameron#john b routledge#pope heyward#cleo anderson#kiara carrera#pogues#outer banks pogues#poguelandia#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe cameron fanfiction#outerbanks rafe#rafe fanfiction
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Three’s Trouble, Four’s a Threat
Pairing: The Plastics x fem!reader
Summary: Just some headcanons on what it’s like dating the Plastics
Word count: 1.3K (27 bullet points)
Contents: poly!Plastics, bad girl!reader, Shane slander, mentions of violence
Note: HAPPY PRIDE!!!! I have a lot of fic ideas that I’m working on, several of which I’m hoping to put out this month, unfortunately none are ready at this current moment, but I wanted to post something on the first day of pride to welcome this month in and I’ve had these sitting in my drafts for months (technically a year as of March) so what better time to post them than now. A translator app was used a few times in this fic so incorrect Hindi translations are probably present, anyone who actually speaks Hindi please politely correct me on any mistakes. And before anybody asks, which you might not, this is not the same badgirl!reader (same fonts, different people) as my series. That said, I hope you all enjoy!
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SFW:
This relationship was a surprise to everyone because what do you mean The Plastics, the most perfect girls in school, are dating The North Shore Menace, the leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding girl with tattoos and a nose piercing who’s always causing trouble (the words of one (1) Shane Oman who is obviously so very jealous they’re not with him)
You’re never actually causing trouble, just putting an end to it… in a rather violent manner
Of course, The Plastics are the only ones who know your whole “Menace” rep is a façade that stems from your home life and that you’re actually a major softie on the inside (but that stays between the four of you)
You’re always getting in fights to defend your girls, mostly with Shane Oman (sometimes some of his jock buddies too) who never seem to learn that this is not a battle they want. You’ve never lost a fight 😎, and honestly it’s embarrassing for them that they keep trying, but that doesn’t mean you don’t come out without some injuries. The girls always nurse you back to health after and make sure to thank you with lots of kisses and cuddles.
Possessive. Possessive. Possessive. You’re all possessive of each other (Regina the most) not because you don’t trust each other, but because you don’t trust everybody else at this fucking school to keep their hands to themselves.
To combat this, you got the four of you matching leather jackets. Each of them has your names embroidered at the top and say Property of The Plastics & The North Shore Menace on the back. This only succeeded in making you guys more possessive.
One day, you decided to try something different and showed up to school glammed the fuck up, by your own hand and not The Plastics who are stunned into silence at the sight of you - like I’m talking shiny gold hoop earrings, a thin chained shiny gold necklace with your zodiac sign on it, thigh high boots, a fitted strapless dress in your favorite color that accentuates your figure, and of course your embroidered leather jacket to finish the look - you know, the works. (Shane decided to be a dick and tried to use this opportunity to beat you up… he still lost) Regina tried to convince you to ditch after she saw you, but you refused and the three had to wait till after school to show you just how much they loved your outfit. The next day, there was a campaign going around with a long ass fucking name called ‘Be Like The Plastics and Get You a Girl Who Can Do Both’
Did I mention you have tattoos? Because you do, several of them actually. One arm is a full sleeve of basically your special interests and the other has a few tattoos that the girls designed to represent each of them. You even have their initials tattooed over your heart.
Addicted to their kisses. Regina’s kisses are rough and fast and demanding. Her hands are always either tugging you closer by your shirt or gripping your ass. Karen’s kisses are quite the opposite - they’re soft and sweet and gentle, often broken up with giggles, and her arms are usually wrapped around your waist in a hug. Gretchen’s kisses are definitely a mix of both. They start out slow and soft and gentle, but can speed up and turn rough faster than you can blink, her arms wrapped around your neck and tugging you as close as possible. All of their kisses leave you with hearts practically swirling in your eyes and smiling like a love-drunk idiot.
You never have to pay for anything anymore. They all have more than enough money to take turns buying things for you (look at anything for more than five seconds and it’s yours), but majority of the time Regina is buying for everybody.
Karen, Gretchen, and you always take turns cooking dinner when you spend the night at Regina’s because she can’t cook to save her life, but she is an excellent taste tester so it all works out.
You love to bake, it’s one of your favorite things to do. Cookies, cakes, brownies, muffins, anything sweet really. Honestly, you much prefer to bake over cook so majority of the time when you’re in the kitchen, you’re making something sweet. You’ve got each of their favorites sweets memorized and make them after especially hard days, on special occasions, or just at their requests.
Pet names go crazy with the four of you. You’ve all got different pet names for each other and they are all sickeningly adorable. Regina is Gigi, Gi, and Reg or Reggie by Gretchen, Karen, and you respectively. Gretchen is Mi Sol, मेरा प्यार (mera pyaar - my love), and Chi-chi by Regina, Karen, and you respectively. Karen is Mami/Mama, Ren, and Kar by Gretchen, Regina, and you in that order. Regina calls you dumbass and idiot (lovingly!) and also baby too while Gretchen calls you mi amor and Karen calls you जानेमन (jaaneman - sweetheart).
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NSFW:
Bottoms, the lot of them. Luckily for them, you love watching them writhe underneath of you.
Regina, despite being the apex predator of North Shore and having the three of you wrapped around her finger in public, is the bottom-est of bottoms in the bedroom. The number one Pillow Princess between the four of you.
Regina is a slut for praise and degradation, believe it or not. Call her a good girl and she’ll melt. Call her a slut and she’ll moan, but call her ‘pretty little whore’ and she’ll fucking scream in bliss.
She’s also a brat who needs to be reminded of her place sometimes, and what better way to remind her who’s in charge than a spanking that leaves her ass red, her pussy throbbing, and her begging for release? 😏
Contradictory to my first statement, Gretchen is a switch! Argue with the wall. Not only that, but when Gretchen is in top mode, she’s mean. Again, argue with the wall.
Gretchen loves edging you and Regina. Holy shit, it’s like her favorite thing to do when she’s in the mood - turning the two of you into absolute moaning messes who cling to each other and can’t cum without her permission lest you want to be edged for longer next time.
While Gretchen loves to do the edging, she actively hates being edged herself. She much prefers to be overstimulated and cum and cum and cum until tears are streaming down her cheeks and she can’t take it anymore.
Power. Bottom. Karen. Argue 👏🏼 with 👏🏼 THE WALL 👏🏼👏🏼 Listen, I know Karen isn’t book smart, but I strongly believe she is sex smart and knows a lot about sex. Like she knows what she wants from her partners and even though she’s on the bottom, she’ll guide you or Gretchen on how best to get her off that day.
Karen loves to be ate out. She loves sitting on your face and riding your tongue until her thighs are quivering and she physically cannot hold herself up anymore.
Karen’s got you and Gretchen wrapped around her finger in the bedroom. You two can never tease her for too long before either of you are caving to her demands and giving her exactly what she wants.
Surprise! The first time you guys have sex together, they realize you have nipple piercings, and oh wow, you’re so sensitive there. Even the lightest touch from the girls has you shivering and your hips bucking with pleasure. Yes, you can cum from just nipple play. Gretchen is always using this to tease you when she’s topping and always convinces Karen and Regina to join in (you hate it so bad, but you love it so much.)
Resident munch. Eating out is your favorite thing to do. Your ankles always end up crossed in contentment when your face is buried between any of their legs bringing them pleasure.
Mommy kink for you.
— — — — — —
All in all, while it’s a very shocking relationship to others (and also none of their business really), the four of you have a very healthy and loving relationship together filled with copious amounts of love and happiness.
#regina george x reader#regina george x female reader#regina george 2024#gretchen wieners x reader#gretchen wieners x female reader#gretchen wieners 2024#karen shetty x reader#karen shetty x female reader#karen shetty 2024#mean girls 2024#poly!plastics x reader#poly!plastics
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How do you talk about "proship" stuff without immediately getting bombarded with hate and dismissed as a terrible person?
I'm on your side, but it seems most people are not, and not willing to listen at all.
I wanna make some small things clear lol I am not the spokesperson for this topic. There are far more people who are more articulate and have done more research and I would rather just be drawing lol
I usually state that if you're not a great speaker or can't articulate yourself very well, link to the experts that understand how this stuff works. Like I've said before, a lot of the therapists and articles I have linked have done a better job than I on the topic. Because you might be actually hurting your case when you're trying to explain to someone these things and you are either hung up on the trees over the forest or can't explain something because they catch you on a minute detail.
That being said, the main advice I would give is to not to use these loaded terms themselves, just the dynamic itself. In all honesty, if you use that kind of terminology (proship/anti), it usually turns people's brains off and makes them think you're weird automatically.
youtube
I would just point out that there's a wide range of different types of stories (from tv shows to myths of yore) that have spanned centuries--even some of which featuring taboos. And the ills of society do not have these stories to blame.
I am tired, because when I think we've moved on from these rehashed arguments and stupid discourse about media , I come to find arguments that were settled ten years ago are rearing their heads again. And this time they're coming with threats!
They did this with D&D and rock music. (You would be lured into satanic rituals and be deviants) They did this was violent movies and video games (You would want to commit murders or want murderers to go free) They did with this with rap and music videos (You would be hypnotized into violence by the artist and you would want to be a harlot) They did this with anime (Foreign media that is super weird and turn people into super freaks) They did this was queer media (Gonna turn you gay) They did this with superheroes (Children will think they can fly, they think punching will solve their problems)
Now this type of persecution comes for people that are doing taboo fanworks. I am tired of seeing this shit. Hindsight is free--those who were young for these old campaigns can see this stuff clearly for what it is: veiled right-wing rhetoric that is easily adopted by useful idiots who believe they are "helping". This time, the main push has been from young people in fandom spaces.
This is how it works.
All art communicates worldviews to some extent, but that doesn't make everything propaganda. Artists aren't working to eliminate other worldviews or stifle the existence of other artists--that is actually what propaganda is. It often comes from a perspective that embraces the imperialist or patriarchal status quo.
To someone on the fence who might be reading this: art is subjective. Your need to moralize what you consume is fraught. Consuming "good" media made with "good morals" and not "taboo" doesn't make you live a good life or become a good person. You're going to hit a wall one of these days where something you enjoy will be seen as something gross/repulsive/troubling and when you have been cut off from all those who would have defended you, you will have no one around you. If you feel like you are constantly put under a magnifying glass by said friends over what you ship, what art you enjoy.... Its not healthy! When you can't unfollow or say how you truly feel in a group of people and feel "unsafe" if you were to leave…. THAT'S A CULT. I find that it's always the same people who start shit that will be repeating this behaviour wherever they go. They literally act like HOAs but instead of your halloween ornaments staying up for too long, they are saying you can't enjoy your Greek God incest fics.
One last thing to remember: if you're having this conversation, and a person takes the worst possible light from what you say…they are not trying to have a conversation with you, they are acting against you.
#sea talks#I really want this to die because I want to be as thoughtful about this but really I want to just draw man lol#learn to just block and leave#I had to literally pull up so many dissertation and shit to do this#also be mean and harass people expect it to return it to you as we say in chinese 天打五雷轰
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join the murder; happy lowman.


part i. history in the making
summary: the sons make a decision that will change the fate of their club.
warnings: misogyny, language.
author’s note: since sins of the father didn’t get updated today like i said it would, here’s this one :,)
word count: 2898
DAY ONE.
“have you lost your goddamn mind?” to jax’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch at the cutting edge in bobby’s tone, though a lesser man would’ve wilted. it’s impressive, happy can admit, how eerily calm he is in the face of his brothers’ scrutiny. there aren’t many who can stand so tall when put under so much pressure.
not for the first time, their table is divided. split clean in two, it seems, with half of them appalled at the mere thought of what their president is proposing, and the rest, like him, that are, at least, willing to listen. happy can understand their trepidation, the borderline horror. spitting in the face of decades’ of tradition and hard-earned stereotyping isn’t an easy pill to swallow, even for him, but change is as inevitable as it is imminent. and now, with how things have been going for them recently, it’s necessary.
jax believes that if they don’t learn how to ride the tide, the world will move on without them. and happy believes in jackson teller, if in nothing else.
the blonde man at the head of the table smiles, confident and unperturbed. for once, he doesn’t scream to be heard. he doesn’t puff out his chest or gnash his teeth. it’s an assuredness that he has been lacking for a long, long while. “we’ve spent the last forty-five years in this box, brother. it’s startin’ to get a little claustrophobic.”
“so you wanna put a gash in a kutte?” opie chimes in, his face contorted with incredulity, though he’s significantly less hostile than some are being. “what the hell will that do, except give us all a headache?” piney grunts his agreement, scowling as if jax had just suggested assassinating the united states’ president.
“it proves that we can change for the better,” chibs, always raring to defend his jackie-boy, and to advocate for the underdog, steps to the plate. “that we’re more than murderers and criminals. that there’s a point to all of this.”
really, they all have their reasons for being here. for some, like him and the scot, the reaper had saved their lives. opie and jax were born with samcro in their blood. piney, tig, and bobby have been wearing the patch for so long that it’s all they are. and juice, like so many of the prospects that darken their doorstep, had come looking for a family.
that’s what it’s supposed to be about. the brotherhood. living, dying, and killing for the family that they choose. if this girl can, is willing to, do that, happy doesn’t see why they wouldn’t give her a fighting chance.
“oh, c’mon!” frankly, tig’s the last person that should be protesting this. the man broke a hundred unspoken rules when he’d claimed venus van dam, a transgender prostitute, as his ol’ lady. he’s an ornery hypocrite, happy thinks. “almost fifty years, and we have never had a chick patch into any charter, let alone the mother charter. if we do this, it’s gonna cause a goddamn revolt, man.”
as if reading his mind, juice chomps at the bit in a rare display of boldness. “yeah, we never had a venus making us sunday brunch, either.” the withering glare that tig gives him across the table would’ve sent a lesser man to the grave, but the boy holds fast. “no disrespect, i love vee just as much as everyone else, but it ain’t the 70’s no-more. times are changing.”
“this is a charter decision.” jax intervenes, before the two of them can start swinging. “the others can bitch and moan as much as they’d like, but this comes down to us.”
jax would need a unanimous vote to take anyone, especially a woman, on as a prospect, with or without the other charters’ approval. and right now, it doesn’t look like he’s going to get his wish.
“we’re the sons of anarchy! sons!” tig flails his arms so violently that he nearly topples out of his chair, one of his ringed hands clipping happy in the shoulder like an excited child. “back me up, hap!”
all eyes turn to him, and he has to try hard not to bristle. he shrugs noncommittally, acting less bothered than he is, and looks to jax. “can she ride?”
he nods, brows raised, as if surprised that his sergeant at arms is humoring him at all. “can she fight?”
jax grins, like he’d said something funny, and happy figures that it has to do with his suspiciously black eye. “yeah. yeah, she can fight.”
“if she can do that, and if you trust her, i say give it a shot.” tig looks positively mortified, and jax glows with pride. happy merely leans back in his chair and ignores the looks he’s now receiving from both sides of the table. some betrayed, some bewildered.
“just listen,” jax presses his palms to the table, silencing any further protests or arguing before it can even begin. in this moment, he looks so much like the man that he used to be, that it hurts a little bit. the man he was before his baby had been born with his insides outside, before the truth had been told, before his stepfather had betrayed him, and then done it again, and again. before the gavel had corrupted him.
“she has what it takes, i’ve seen it. kitty will be good for this club, for all of us,” he meets each of their eyes in turn, as if willing them to bear the weight of his words. “all i’m asking is that you just give her a chance. no special treatment ‘cause she’s a chick. just another prospect, yeah? she gets a year of probation, proves herself, and then you can decide if i’m fuckin’ nuts. but, i swear to you, she will prove herself.” she has to, for jax’s sake, lest she makes a fool out of him and all of them.
it’s rare to see him so passionate about anything, about anyone, but his vehemence certainly gets their attention. in this room, his word is gospel and law, all in one. when he speaks, they listen. even piney, as set in his ways as he is, falters.
happy pictures the girl waiting outside of the soundproofed doors. she wasn’t anything all that impressive, from what he’d seen — young, scrappy, not anything he could see jax going to war for. and yet, here he is, nearly blue in the face whilst he argues her case. though that in itself is impressive, really, because his favor isn’t easy to earn, and she’d done that and then some.
“where’d you even find this kid?” happy’s raspy voice cuts through the pregnant silence like a bullet, and jax’s smile splits his face from ear to ear, like a little boy on christmas morning.
“she stole my wallet.” he seems abundantly proud of it, though most men would be thoroughly humiliated if they were bested by a girl that’s no more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. you wouldn’t have been able to waterboard that information out of happy. “and then, when i chased her down and tried to get it back, she punched me in the face.” and it just gets better and better. happy’s starting to like this kitty.
anyone that was bold enough to steal from and assault a son had to have balls made of steel. especially from the goddamn president.
“what’s gemma make of it?” jax’s eyes narrow into slits at bobby’s not-so-subtle jab, that anger that they all know and love rearing its head. as much as they all love their matriarch, she could be just as old school as piney is. she’s an opinionated woman, and she likes to make sure that those opinions are known.
“it doesn’t fuckin’ matter what gemma thinks,” he retorts, spitting his mother’s name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. they must be on the outs again; it’s hard to keep up. “is she sittin’ at this table? no. you don’t ride, you don’t vote.”
the treasurer raises his hands in a show of mock surrender. “just wondering, brother.” they all know how gemma feels about it. or rather, how she will feel about it, since she probably has no clue that it’s happening at all. jax has a tendency to leave her out of the loop.
but he’s right. the women have never had any right, nor reason, to have any say in the club’s decisions. gemma’s only as involved as she is because she’s played ol’ lady to two presidents, and mother to another. the rest of them are kept in the loop merely because they’re loved.
but this would change everything. a woman, sitting at their table, wearing their reaper, standing and fighting with them, having a vote. that is, of course, if she can survive the prospect year. he had witnessed countless men run for the hills after their first two weeks onsite. they’d even had to bury one, once, after he’d intentionally overdosed in the tacoma clubhouse’s bathroom. and it was bound to be even worse for kitty — prospects are at the very bottom of samcro’s food chain as is, treated like dirt in order to ready them, toughen them up, for the life that they’ve signed up for.
she’ll be shoved around and prodded at tenfold the rest of them. and she’ll have to work thrice as hard to prove herself. and that’s just within the club, not even to mention the abuse she’ll be getting from those outside of it. good luck, happy thinks. god knows that she’s going to need it.
jax smacks his palm on the table, drawing them in. “let’s vote it. all in favor of taking kitty on as a prospect?”
“aye!” chibs cheers, his grin mirroring the scars on his cheeks. despite being one of the oldest, and having been with the club for decades, he’s maybe the most progressive. married a black woman, fathered a black baby, and now sticking his neck out for this girl’s sake. he must have been a mama’s boy in his youth — and happy, more than anyone, can respect that.
bobby sighs, staring at the blonde for a long moment, before finally nodding, albeit reluctantly. “aye.” he may be old, cranky, and misogynistic, but he trusts jax enough to set all of that aside.
and opie’s much the same. he’d do anything for the man he’d grown up with, even this. “aye.”
juice beams, eager. “aye.” he had been the victim of their wicked club bylaws, himself. almost thrown out, and nearly forced to turn rat, because his father was black. he’s the last person that would advocate against change.
piney’s the toughest to crack, and happy’s sure that jax had considered this before bringing nic to the table. the old man is huffing and puffing in his chair like he might blow a little pig’s house right down, jaw clenched and fists curled. as one of the first nine, he’d been present when their rulebook was written. he’d been one of the men to vote yes to the ‘no women’ rule. he’s a proud member, and founder, of the she-man-woman-haters club.
but he’s also the one that’s always preaching about what john teller would’ve wanted, about what samcro can, and should, be. and they all know that if jax’s father was here today, he’d be all over this, much like his son is. “aye.” piney grunts. happy sees the thinly veiled relief in jax’s eyes.
it doesn’t take a telepath to know what tig’s thinking, to realize that juice’s words had hit home for the man. if he voted nay, and venus found out, she’d beat him over the head with her gucci purse, and have him sleeping on the couch for a month, minimum. and as many screws as tig trager has loose, he loves his woman, so much so that it’s nauseating, and he’d never blatantly do anything to offend her. “aye.”
“aye.” happy agrees, without hesitation. frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck what she has in her pants, as long as she has what it takes. jax seems to think she does, and he’s never given them a reason to doubt his judgement — well, maybe once or twice, but that’s besides the point.
“aye!” jax slams the gavel down. and just like that, kitty foster has an in. but whilst they’ve voted in her favor, happy knows that it doesn’t mean they’ll act in it. “bring her in.”
chibs jumps to his feet, all joy and humor draining from his face in a split second, just to make her squirm. he shoves the doors open, his voice bellowing through the chapel and the bar, his heavy scottish brogue ricocheting off the walls. “move it, lass! we ain’t got all fuckin’ day!”
kitty appears in the threshold, giving him a wary look as he shoves her unceremoniously in front of the table, though happy can admire how unbothered she seems by the harsh glares she receives from each of them; some genuine, some falsified. if it is a front that she’s putting on, it’s foolproof enough that not even he can see through it.
when he’d first noticed her sitting at the bar, he hadn’t spared her a second glance, not knowing who she was until jax had called church. now, though, he takes the time to look at her. like he’d originally thought, there’s not much about her that stands out; she’s tall, skinny, with a seemingly permanent frown on her face, and a ghostly sort’ve look about her — as if she had never known comfort a day in her life. she’s pretty enough though, he could admit; with pale, untamed curls, and a nice face, though rather guant and severe. he wouldn’t group her in with their croweaters or the caracara girls, but he figures that she gets plenty of attention.
what the fuck she possibly wants to do with a motorcycle club, he can’t even begin to imagine.
tig takes the initiative, starting without prologue, sneering at the girl as if personally offended by her very presence in the chapel. “probationary period lasts one year, minimum, and starts today. after that, if you last that long, we vote whether or not to patch you in.”
“dues are seventy-five dollars on the first of every month,” bobby chimes in. “you don’t pay, you don’t stay.”
she nods along silently, eyes narrowed and jaw ticking, though she seems more contemplative than aggressive.
jax stands then, picking up the kutte, donned with prospect patches, that he’d flung on the table oh-so dramatically when he’d called church. it’s small, suited to a woman, which meant that he’d been planning this for at least a few days if he’d gone and found colors in her size. awfully bold of him, happy thinks, though he chooses not to comment on it. he won’t claim to understand just how the younger man’s mind works.
he shoves the leather into kitty’s hands, and none of the brothers are oblivious to the wordless something that passes between them. “don’t fuck this up.” is all he says, but his tone is heavy.
the look she gives him is as sharp as a knife, somewhere in between amused and incredulous. whatever had happened with them, beyond the petty theft and battery, had been no small thing. they can all see it.
“don’t worry, prez,” she drawls, two parts mocking and one part wicked. it’s the first time happy, or anyone save for jax, has heard her speak. her accent is as thick as molasses, dripping from her tongue like honey. happy assumes that the southern twang had done her quite a few favors in her life. “i’ll make you proud.”
jax scoffs, but his lip twitches into an almost-smile. “put it on.” he orders, and they all hold their breath.
she slings the brand new leather over her back, their reaper coming to rest gently on her toned shoulders. it suits her, even happy has to admit. if the gleam in jax’s eye is anything to go off of, he agrees.
happy braves a glance at his brothers, all of them wearing varying expressions; some, hopeful, and others, bitter. he meets juice’s eye, and the puerto rican grins so hard that he figures it has to hurt his cheeks.
she’s looking at them too, he notices, sizing each of them up in turn. her eyes meet his for half of a second, searching within him for something — animosity, like tig, or approval, like chibs — but happy remains stoic, his facade impenetrable after all of the years he’s spent perfecting it. he thinks that she seems almost amused, as if humored by so many grown men being so very threatened by a chick.
and that’s exactly what they are; piney, opie, bobby, tig. they feel threatened by this woman, and what she will mean for samcro. they’re terrified of what changes her presence here will catalyze.
jax slaps her on the shoulder, looking immensely proud of himself. “welcome to samcro,”
godspeed, happy bids silently, hoping that she’s more than meets the eye — lest his brothers chew her up and spit her out.
but something tells him that they’d only break their teeth if they tried.
#sons of anarchy#happy lowman x reader#happy lowman#sons of anarchy fic#happy lowman fic#happy lowman x oc#sons of anarchy x reader#jax teller#chibs telford#juice ortiz#bobby munson#opie winston#tig trager#piney winston#join the murder
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Maturing is realising that women aren't that much better than maIes - they just lack power because when they have power they're also violent & abusive.
For example women who treat service workers like crap because they wont face consequences, women who pimp out their daughters to predators online, women who set up other women to be raped by moids, women who mock other victims of maIe violence + side with their abusers, racist women, female bosses that abuse their power to bully female subordinates, women that are physically violent to smaller women & girls, groups of women & girls ganging up to bully a woman or girl, those aunties (if you're a woc you'll know what I'm talking about) that wouldn't try that attitude to boys or white people, etc I'm sure y'all know.
There is no solidarity between women because women as a collective have no power. There's no interest to the average woman to defend another woman to the end because they dont see much benefit from it. Women are nicer to maIes even when they dont want to be not because women have endless empathy but because they lack power, if more women could physically rock moids shit they would do it.
Also, many women are sellouts and will be quick to throw other women under the bus for crumbs of power so you can't blindly trust women because they're women. They would be quiet on moids dirty laundry but a woman makes a small mistake and they become town crier.
Now i'm not exonerating moids of their evil but telling women (y'all) to look out because as it'll be more effort for women to fight against maIes, you will be a target if they perceive you as weak/easier to overpower. Usually when these topics are brought up it's a disingenuous attempt to pretend maIes are in danger because of women to detract from the conversation about maIe violence. However, as a woman it's important to be aware of how other women are threats especially if you're marginalised because if you try this feminist kumbaya shit in real life you're going to be burned. If other women sense weakness from you they will exploit it & you will be a target even if you dont provoke them. I dont care for a backstory overall for their actions; point is they are also a threat to be watched out for.
Also the fact that women turn their aggression to the powerless instead of those that generally hurt them should say it all. This is not an attack on women. The comparison is not between maIes & women behavior per se, it is about how women treat maIes & females. It's a hard pill to take down but it's essential for your survival to do so. This notion that of women being inherently good is something that gets exploited by sex traffickers (many of whom are women). Yes maIes are generally dangerous & in the end I'd rather physically take my chances dealing with an antagonistic woman than maIe but don't assume womens innocence either.
I stopped feeling bad for many women when I realised this. Women dont have better morals, women will gladly use others without a second thought to advance themselves, they'll happily punch down on others to secure what little status they have in society. They'll use the power they have to make other women & girls lives hell. I'm not saying women have to be overly empathetic, perfect or innocent to acknowledge how messed up misogyny is. In the end women are human too & most some humans suck. But it's misleading & dangerous pushing the narrative that women are these overly empathetic angels who do no wrong unless "influenced", when they are not that. Long story short, personally watch your backs and assess women on a case by case basis.
Edit: On the human side of things, this behaviour isn't just limited to women. Several marginalised people are this way including maIes which is something that made me stop caring about activism. Most people dont care about inequality, they care about being on top of the unequal hierarchy. There's a belief on the left that marginalised people = more moral and that's far from the truth. In nigeria people are usually harsh to their workers & poor people, at first I didn't understand why but when you're nice to them or help them out they see you as an idiot & screw you over with whatever advantage they have. This isn't to say don't help, but just be wary of others even if they seem less privileged.
#some women want other women to suffer to justify their suffering#blackpill feminist#blackpill feminism#women safety
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Let's talk about Yellowjackets
And that bad and lazy writing.
Idk if y’all remember when they said they had a story and drafts for 5 seasons? Yeah, fake news.
They may have had a story for the teen timeline, but it’s clear they have no idea what to do with the adult timeline.
1 - Speaking of the adult timeline.
Sometimes I think there might be a script hidden in the middle of so many plot holes. There are the classics, like Tai’s family and political career being completely erased from the narrative. But there are also things that just make no sense.
It makes no sense at all that adult Natalie would get to the point of wanting to kill Misty but be totally fine with Shauna. Okay, maybe in the next two seasons, we’ll see the reason why — but given how the writing is right now...I doubt it
I think y'all already know this, but in case y'all don’t: ALL the actresses from the adult timeline whose characters were killed off left the show upset, and some even said outright they felt misled by the production. They were promised something that wasn’t delivered. Also, Hilary Swank would show up to film and literally had NO script for her character, who to this day doesn’t even have a last name. And where's is the supposed adult Akilah?
It feels like they only have key plot points like “Lottie’s death,” “Callie kills someone,” “Van’s death,” “Natalie’s death,” “Melissa’s return”... But they have no idea how to get there, how to build up to those moments. So when the time comes, they just throw it in randomly.
Not to mention how it was way better when the adult timeline was about them worrying that the truth — the crimes committed in the wilderness — might leak and destroy their lives. Now it’s some Scooby Doo mess where one tries to kill another just because the script says so, with no proper construction. Like… why did Melissa wait until now to come back?
2 - Does that mean the teenage timeline is perfect?
No. The writers still haven’t decided whether there’s a supernatural element or not. And if they really have 5 seasons planned, we’re heading into the fourth without answers to questions like: Who was the guy in the cabin, and why did he appear in Jackie’s hallucination? Why did the bear just lay down and let Lottie kill it? Was Travis speaking for Jackie or just hitting a nerve in Shauna after what she said? Laura Lee, completely forgotten. Same with Crystal. We don’t even get mentions of them. It’s like they never existed. And who was Javi’s friend?
And the worst of all: Shauna’s plot armor.
And if you defend everything she does, you can leave now because the rest is going to be a hate post on her.
3 - That bitch is straight-up EVIL.
“Oh but she’s traumatized.” Who isn’t? Travis was SAed by the girls, lost his brother and had to eat him, and still doesn’t do half the messed up stuff Shauna does. Because Shauna is the ONLY one who turns her trauma into a collective problem.
Yes, she is very complex and still a pathetic character, and even though she stresses me out a lot, I still like her because of that. It’s just hard to swallow the Arya-Stark-level plot armor they give her. EVERYONE knows Shauna is out of control, violent, and therefore a liability to the group. And still, no one does anything about it. It’s not like she’s Rambo — there are like 10 girls there. The fact that not one of them jumped her sadistic ass is the most unrealistic part of the show to me tbh
There are no more excuses. If you say you’re a fan of Shauna and try to downplay what she does, you’re not a real fan — you just like your headcanon of her, not the actual character. A real fan stands by their favs’ messed-up choices and doings.
What Shauna did to Mari has no excuse. Mari died three times: during the hunt, when she was eaten, and when Shauna made a point of dehumanizing her and stripping her late body of all dignity. Why? Because Mari was the only one (along with Natalie) who never bowed down to Shauna’s madness and was never afraid of her.
Worse, like Natalie, Mari saw Shauna for what she really was: a deeply insecure girl who uses violence to take something you’re usually born with: leadership. Her monologue at the end was pathetic but totally in character, because yes, she is pathetic.
And her deep anger toward Natalie? It’s because she knew Natalie, thanks to her usefulness to the group, was untouchable. Mari didn’t have that privilege, so Shauna channeled all her rage toward both of them onto the weaker link: Mari.
I’ve seen people comment that the writers kind of turned Shauna into a racist character, based on how she acts toward POC characters. I personally don’t think the character is racist, but it’s very clear the writers’ room is mostly — if not entirely — white.
“Oh but the girls can’t turn on Shauna because she’s the group’s butcher.” Natalie can do that job. The only thing protecting Shauna from a mutiny is plot armor. And that’s never a good sign.
That scene where Shauna chickens out when Tai stands up to her just proves how weak and insecure she is. Like when a fake alpha acts when a real alpha show's up
To be fair, the group did use her for a while as a scapegoat for their dark desires. The problem is that Shauna ENJOYED the violence. She’s sadistic. That’s canon. And she acts like a dictator. It’s funny being in both the Yellowjackets and Arcane fandoms because Shauna is everything Caitlyn haters claim Caitlyn is, lmao.
Lottie, at least, is clinically ill and acts based on her beliefs, not out of joy. The only time she kills someone and smiles about it is when she kills the hiker. And except for Natalie, everyone — girls and boys — did something bad to survive, whether actively or passively.
The thing with Shauna is that she enjoys what she does.And again, what she did to Mari was sickening. I’m not naïve, I knew a show about cannibalism wouldn’t pull punches. But I personally don’t like seeing such cruel scenes of violence for no reason other than shock value maybe.
And back to Shauna’s plot armor, we can clearly see that some of the girls were really sad about Mari’s death, and maybe even a little angry at how Shauna handled it. And the writers want us to believe they wouldn’t say a single word to her? Again, there are like ten of them, and Shauna isn’t irreplaceable in the group. And that plot armor just makes all the other girls (except Natalie, who really is an angel) look dumb and weak. Which they’re not.
Just for comparison, even in Game of Thrones’ worst seasons, we had Cersei doing insane stuff but without plot armor. People didn’t rebel against her because of her last name and her 7-foot zombie bodyguard. Shauna has none of that. The girls just don’t turn against her because of plot armor.
4 - The missed opportunities
It would be so easy to make Walter being the son of one the hikers and he got close to Misty with the intentions of expose and/or kill them for what they did in the wilderness. He could even be Melissa brother in law, which would make her appearance don't be so outta nowhere. And a lot of good things could go from there.
Callie killing Lottie could be a lot better too.
#Yellowjackets#natalie scatorccio#misty quigley#lottie matthews#van palmer#taissa turner#shauna shipman#mari ibarra
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Can I have this ask with the UT characters too? During a family dinner, S/O is very uncomfortable, without skeleton knowing why. At some point, their father criticizes their clothes and S/O answers back. He suddenly stands up and slaps them violently. S/O tears up and flees the room.
The link for the first post is here, with the main skeletons.
Undertale Toriel - Toriel goes from warm to icy cold in seconds. Your father is going to learn painfully why she was the Queen when Toriel stands up and starts to confront your father about what happened. Toriel was raised harshly as well, she cut all relationships with her parents as soon as she met Asgore. Is this really what you want? Because that's what's going to happen if you keep going this way. Toriel despises free violence. Once she's done, she leaves the room to check on you and ask what you want to do.
Undertale Asgore - Asgore stands up. Your father immediately starts to argue but is forced to shut up after Asgore says with a booming voice that he doesn't want to hear any of his excuses. Asgore can be extremely impressive when he wants to, and that's one of these moments. He stares your father down for long seconds, then goes after you to be sure you're fine.
Undertale Undyne - Undyne doesn't give him the time to do it. She blocks his hand with her arm, taking most of the hit, and then she grabs your father's arm and twists it around, slamming it back on the table. She immediately screams at your father to defend you. Undyne was a beaten child, she knows all about what it does to people and there's no way she's just going to stay there and do nothing. She's pissed off, and your father gets so angry at her he asks you to both leave. Undyne apologizes in the car, but she is for sure not letting alone with that man ever again. What an asshole.
Undertale Alphys - Alphys immediately runs after you. She feels way too uncomfortable staying alone with your father anyway. Violence makes her nervous, and she doesn't understand what even happened. It felt free and mean for nothing, and she doesn't like it. She just sits with you and pets your arm until you feel comfortable to talk or you say you want to leave. She doesn't want to stay there anyway.
Undertale Frisk - Frisk is tense. Their childhood before Toriel wasn't that great either and that scene is way too familiar. Frisk follows you silently, but then your father says they're a coward like you are, misgendering them in the process. Frisk grabs the water, throws it at his face, signs a middle finger, and runs after you. They're done getting walked on by abusive assholes.
Undertale Chara - Chara watches as you leave, hands shaking. This. This is one of the many reasons why they hate humanity. It's taking all they have right now to not intervene and make things worse. For now, imagining your father with a knife across the neck is helping them to stay calm. They apologize because they have manners, and then they go to check on you. Chara wants to leave and will convince you to do the same. You deserve better than that.
Undertale Gaster - Gaster immediately looks down. He wants to say something, he really wants to... But that would be pretty hypocritical of him after what he did to his children, right? Gaster can't really judge your father for losing his temper. He knows it's sometimes difficult to be a father. But still, there are other ways before that extremity. Gaster doesn't move from his seat and waits for his S/O to return in silence, avoiding your father's eyes.
Undertale Mettaton - Oh, your poor father has a problem with how you dress? As you leave the room, Mettaton does too but doesn't go to see you. He goes in the bathroom, pushes a few buttons on his control panel, and comes back with a bright pink dress and high heels. Your father is speechless. What's wrong, sweetie? Never seen a male wearing a sexy dress? Your loss. By the way, he's the one who picked up your clothes, so if someone lacks taste in the room, it's your father. He is a professional, he knows what he's doing, thank you very much.
Undertale Grillby - Grillby looks at you go, worried, but your father starts talking to him again like nothing happened. Grillby is polite, but the more it lasts, the more he gets angry, and when he gets angry, Grillby loses control over his flames. That's quite a surprise when the tablecloths suddenly catch fire. Grillby takes that opportunity to leave the room and run after you, leaving your parents panicking and screaming about the fire. He doesn't care. He just wants to be sure you're ok.
Undertale Muffet - Muffet is displeased. She stays eyes in eyes with your father as you leave the room. She then flicks her fingers. Thousands of little spiders fall from the sky and immediately start crawling under your father's clothes, biting every piece of skin visible. She keeps drinking her tea, unaffected, as your father is rolling on the floor, screaming for help. Worried, you come back in the room and stare in confusion. Muffet shrugs. Oh no, how did that happen?
Undertale Burgerpants - If he was brave, he would have defend your honor and stood against your father by telling him all about what he thinks of it. But... Uh... He's not really brave and he's just a tiny bit scared your father might attack him if he dares to say something so.... Uh... He continues to eat, sweating so hard the fork is slipping from his fingers, scared to meet your father's eyes. Please come back quickly... He's going to have a panic attack, jeez.
Undertale Flowey - Welp. He tried to be nice all evening, that clearly didn't work. He starts to laugh like a maniac, friendliness pellets flying all around him. That's when you come back to pick up his pot because you need an emotional support flower right now. Oh, come on! Let him injure your father! You're not funny! He wasted magic on this attack you know! Pretty please? JUST ONE BULLET, PLEASE.
Undertale Gerson - Gerson just says he didn't realize that house traveled back in time to the Middle Ages, that he already lived through it once and doesn't want to do it again. He then leaves to check on his S/O and takes them out of here. He hates violent men, they're all the same. On a battlefield or in their family life, they're crying when a woman tells them they're wrong. You should be ashamed. He's five times your age and he's not acting like you do.
#undertale#toriel#asgore#undyne#alphys#frisk#chara#mettaton#gaster#grillby#muffet#flowey#gerson#undertale ask blog#undertale asks#undertale imagines#undertale headcanons
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Tears of an angel

You had a dream, a very blurry one, but the few clear memories clung firmly in your head.
A dream where no one knew you other than your mother, family and friends, you were a girl who grew up in the middle class, with a working mother, who was always there for you, even if her life was full of work, a life where you could sit in the sidewalk on a salty or cloudy day and eat an ice cream, without bothering to get dirty or eat in an unattractive way, just a happy girl enjoying her ice cream.
You could ride your bike to school with your friends, sit in the cafeteria with all your friends, who told their craziest stories or problems, the same people who listened to you afterwards and supported you.
A camera flash, and your smiling face, the yearbook photo, where all your classmates signed themselves and you did the same like a celebrity.
In your small town, the only one you knew, and where you returned after graduating and meeting a boy, with whom you joined your life. The big house they built together, with a huge patio, full of plants, from giant trees to rose bushes.
It was a dream, but it was the best one you had, seeing your mother and your little family, together at a campfire, you would never forget such a thing.
Not when your reality was a painting without colors, just a dull gray, you had no one, your mother no longer existed, you never had good friends or you don't remember them, a boy... is much further away from your possibilities.
Thousands of flashes went off, but they were no longer for yearbook photos, or for a photo album, these were to feed the hunger of men addicted to famous women and their beauty, even if they were much younger, photos for women who loved gossip and seeing the misfortunes of other women.
Your hands with ice cream, sweets or a delicious homemade dinner were replaced by tasteless or extravagant dishes, the size of a coin. Your night of picnic was replaced by a day, with a walk of shame, where many whispered.
“I knew that she murdered the man who was holding her hostage.”
“They say she looked possessed.”
“ha… I think she finally showed what a crazy psychopath she really is.”
Thousands of ridicule and criticism. While your face seemed stoic, the black glasses covering your eyes did a good job of hiding your teary eyes that were burning from shedding tears.
Go your way and don't pay attention to anyone.
“How is he not in jail?”
“surely her father paid so that she would not be arrested”
Ha... that was the only thing your father could do for all the misfortunes that carrying his last name caused you. And he didn't even do it without thinking about it, at the trial your father barely appeared, only his money and one of his best lawyers, it was lucky to have Alfred with you.
Your own father reserved his judgment, he didn't even advocate for you, maybe he knew that you were actually someone evil, maybe it was better for him not to interfere so as not to pay the price when you did the same thing again, he discovered, the disgusting monster that you were.
His stoic face without any feeling, no words, what kind of father does that, if you killed someone, you stabbed him until his last breath, but there were no fathers who were more compassionate with their children after doing more atrocious acts, you You didn't eliminate that man because you wanted to, he had you as a hostage, he was like the other men made of shadows that tormented you, he was acting violently, without control, he threatened you, you felt that he would end you, thousands of eyes looking at you without doing anything, none of those present thought of defending you, none of their eyes collided with yours, they just diverted to another place.
The only eyes you saw were those of a woman next to you, but even she couldn't help, they were pointing a gun at her.
Then you saw yourself in a glass, the woman who had the strength to save you, the one who fearlessly controlled your body, took a gun and stuck it at the man who threatened you, over and over again in his torso, who smiled, with a great joy to finally be freed and take revenge.
And after a few minutes you came back and saw your hands with a red liquid. It was her and you in turn, both of you…. And yet they classified you as a psychopath, who deserved to be locked up.
You only see her, your reflection smiling and whispering
I told you so.
You should never have stayed with your family.
They would abandon you. now look at you...
A hit from a table brought you out of your tranze.
“Because you did it, Miss Wayne,” the prosecutor looked at you, after a long interrogation in court.
You stared at her, this woman was becoming a nuisance, so maddening, because she kept adding more salt to the wound, she was very mean to you, with her look of superiority and her touch of envy.
She continued with her words and cruel questions towards you, no vague answer calmed her, she wanted to continue digging into your well-buried secrets.
For that woman who stood as if she owned the entire stand with a self-centered smile, you were guilty, a murderer, who deserved to be punished for what she did, you knew very well that she was right, you were a monster who had to pay, but You were scared, and you knew that nothing was worse punishment than being with yourself.
Your hands didn't stop shaking when you listened to her, you had to leave them in your lap so it wouldn't be noticeable, you couldn't afford to lose your temper, they would have no mercy, they would brand you as a false victim.
His words full of venom stung, they hurt you little by little, because they were exactly the truth, and his very intrusive questions were the straw that broke the camel's back.
Desperate for all his cutting words and his exhausting questions, you began to spit out everything, your secrets from the smallest to the largest, the ones that led you to commit such a crime.
“I didn't know, I was desperate, nothing stopped... they kept going, they kept targeting me like before” you spoke calmly, all the calm you could muster inside your body trying to maintain your sanity.
“no one wanted to help me, even though… when that man… did that…” you could barely breathe because of the pressure and turbulent feelings that were flooding you, you could barely formulate a complete sentence.
“Tell me, miss, what this man was supposedly doing for you to end him in such a cruel way.”
“I was doing it again like the others!!!… I didn't want to be his toy again” you shouted.
“It's not fair, that they ask for money for me, but still torture me for their fun!!!”
"and I have to keep quiet, and not say anything because the heroes saved me, everything is fine again, right? It doesn't matter what happens because I'm safe and I should be grateful"
“I had to stay silent, because after all something horrible didn't happen to me like other victims” you repeated the cruel words that were said to you after your first kidnapping, and the following times, even though you desperately wanted to confess how horrible your short stay with him was. those criminals, you got used to receiving what they gave you, staying silent in front of the vigilantes, the police and posing calmly for the news, until you got home and locked yourself in your room to suffer in silence.
“I couldn't stand it, she couldn't stand it, she was angry, so she took the gun and attacked the man without mercy, I wouldn't feel another horrible monster following me.”
“I saved myself... I did it for the first time” you smiled non-stop, even with your eyes shedding tears.
“Now judge me on that.”
You returned to your starting point, where everyone looked at you with hatred and repulsion or as a naive girl who could be used.
Hearing endless disguised insults, full of arrogance, seeing looks full of envy and contempt, seeing men trying to surpass you, gossip and news of you making you look like a spoiled girl and out of control.
You took refuge again in your lonely apartment, you stopped going out, your life would be better in a place away from everyone, where no one would hurt you anymore.
You left everyone behind and took refuge in another place. away from the looks that hurt you.
You said goodbye to the hopelessness that reigned in your life.
You confined yourself to a new city, full of thousands of people, famous, easy to get lost and not be found.
A small change of look was enough to go unrecognized. Although most of your days were spent locked in your apartment inside a huge building.
Despite your fear of going out almost always, you did it if it was to participate in some brands that invited you to their new projects, and much more for small charity events.
The letters you received of thanks from the people you helped became a part of social interaction for you.
You also helped one of your acquaintances from the psychiatric center you were in as part of your sentence, the disturbed young film director.
Appearing in your independent films was fun, plus it told people that you're still alive, but that they would no longer take advantage and use you as something they can have for their entertainment.
If being yourself, being happy and not being terrified of the people around you meant disappearing and isolating yourself, you would do it...
...........................................
somewhere else, far away from where naive little miss wayne was taking refuge.
Her family was desperately searching for her.
A video of Wayne surrounded the internet, in no time he became famous, and everyone now had a new star to love.
The family, who had forgotten or preferred not to say anything about that girl, knew that they had ruined it.
Burece Wayne accepted his mistake, one of the biggest he could have made, he left his daughter alone, without caring about the things she was experiencing, he believed that a card full of money was the only thing his daughter needed.
a girl who never caused him problems, he believed that giving her all the luxuries was enough. I never checked it, one less burden in his life, it was already something big, maintaining his appearance as a millionaire, his role as a hero and being the father of many children who needed his help, was already a lot on his plate.
His little daughter suffered so much and he was never able to help her.
He still remembers how her face showed all the pain she carried, in the middle of the court, how desperate she sounded.
Since he found out what she did at that gala, he couldn't look at her, blaming her for that big mistake she made, he never tried to understand her.
He let that little resentment he felt for that girl's mother kill him. when she understood it, when she realized her big mistake, that it was all her fault, for never having taken care of that girl, for never seeing her for more than a second, for never protecting her in the best way from criminals and leeches who wanted something. of his family. It was too late she was gone.
.............
A girl with delicate features and delicately dressed, looked at her reflection with great attention.
She had spent a long time locked up in a dark room, which was only illuminated by the dim lights of the candles and during the day by the light that came in through the room's only window.
She was serving the punishment her grandparents gave her for breaking the rules.
Even in his mind his grandmother's harsh words were still present.
"Your mother failed us and even more so when she appeared with you"
"because my beloved daughter had to go and leave us with you"
"You will never be perfect girl, you are just despicable, a living image of your father."
Although those words were common because he said them when he was taking care of you.
They became more horrible and terrifying when he got angry.... Their claws embedded themselves in your skin and punctured as deep as they could.
his screams for you to look in the mirror and the hits he gave you if you looked away.
one word sharper than the other...
Infinite tears fell from your eyes and even with that the desire to stop crying, due to a threat to maintain composure.
The reflection eventually began to change, over time, it was no longer you, it was another girl trapped in the mirror.
A smiling reflection appeared and although you knew it would bring you nothing good, at least it was company in the lonely punishment room.
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Being a trans man and not being an anti is also isolating, which is part of why I think trans guys gravitate towards either being an anti or reposting anti posts. If you're not an anti, you get booted from discord servers, blocked on social media at best or sent misgendering rape threats, death threats and suicide bait by other trans men at worst, and now that I'm in college I've found IRL that not being an anti makes a lot of people in queer spaces available to the average college student incredibly uncomfortable. So you have to either be entirely alone - which is very difficult when you're young, queer, and just coming into your own identity - or you have to be around it a lot without saying a word. Agreeing with it at first wouldn't even be necessary. You just have to not say anything against it, and then you'll be able to be around other people.
It doesn't help that most trans men who get sucked into anti circles are teens at the time. There's 501 proposed anti-LGBT laws right now, not counting everything that has passed, the majority of it anti-trans. If you're a teenage boy seeing all this transphobia on the rise, you're going to feel powerless. Bullying people like antis do makes you feel power over at least a few people. Being told you can consume your way into being a good person via media intake makes you feel like you have power and control over at least that.
I was sucked in incrementally because I wasn't exposed to the more violent antis who fantasized about murder and hurting people for writing fiction, I met my only friend - who was an anti - after my dad had beaten me for coming out as trans, and I was sixteen. I got out when I was eighteen because once I went to live with my mom, a psychologist, she gently corrected me when I would say things that aren't based in fact. She pointed out how upset these people were making me. She taught me how to fact-check claims and look into the veracity of claims.
And when I tried to convey to my friends that no, what they were saying wasn't supported, they turned on me. Including the only person who had been there for me when I was hatecrimed, who had reached out to me specifically because she met me what day. I lost every friend I had in roughly 30 hours.
If I hadn't had a really great mom, a very intelligent rabbi who's well-versed in psychology and is a former lawyer who saw the "fiction made me do it" excuse used to defend heinous crimes and doesn't buy it, and an older half-sister who lived through people calling her a psycho lesbian because she's a lesbian who played D&D, listened to metal and dressed Goth in small-town Montana in the 80's/90's, I would have probably killed myself. Having those three people who accepted me and did not accept this extremist rhetoric kept me sane and repaired my self-esteem enough to keep me going.
But a lot of people don't have three adults who are intelligent, supportive, and know better than to fall for this faux-psychology. A lot of people don't even have one. Often, they have unsupportive people who also believe firmly in the faux-psychology of "if you watch a thing you'll do that thing IRL". So there's not only no one hauling them out of this, it's getting reinforced.
Being a non-anti who is a trans man gets me a lot of shit from a lot of people online and offline. (As other anons have mentioned during the ace discourse, online talking points come up on college campuses and in real life, because the internet is not an alternate dimension, it is something being used by the people around you who exist in the same physical space as you.)
A reality that I don't think people want to discuss is that trans men, just like all other people of all other genders, suffer a lot of psychological distress if they're put in a position where they have no support. I sure as fuck wasn't happy being in a position where I went from having tons of online friends, discord servers I could hang out in and fandoms I associated with good vibes to none of that, plus harassment, plus massive misgendering.
It's a lot less awful of an existence to be a trans man and an anti when you're young and need community and support than it is to not be an anti and be isolated. And humans gravitate towards the least awful option 99% of the time.
--
Yuuup.
Having some kind of real support network, usually offline but at the very least not randos you met a day ago on discord, is vital and is the difference between not only whether you rot in a pit of antidom forever but in stemming the massive flood of trans teen suicides. The overall queer rates aren't great, but the specifically trans rates... they're bad. They're so, so bad.
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those targ stans comparing Rhaenyra's strong boys to Jon are the absolute worst
Like, on one hand, I do see why people defend them. It wasn't their fault they were born to such unfavourable circumstances. Its not easy to grow up being conflicted about who you really are, and as much as Rhaenyra loves them, its clear she does not prioritize them over herself.
But theres more problems then that. The biggest point against them is the incident with Aemond. First of all, I don't condone the actions of Aemond when grown up since he is certainly unhinged, but here he was what? 10? 12? Somewhere around that age, and he felt he needed to claim Vhagar, the biggest dragon, after her riders death because that was the only way he felt he had to prove his worth in this family. For kids who are not sure if they were bastards, the Strong boys have never indicated once that they felt that desperate to prove something for their place in a family. Aemond telling his mother that him losing an eye is alright because he "gained a dragon" is heartbreaking. He thought losing his eye to claim a dragon was the only way to prove himself. When have the Strong boys ever indicated they felt that desperate?
Secondly is the attack itself. Aemond was alone and ganged up on. He was attacked by multiple people at once whom clearly brought items to attack him with, and him calling them bastards should not have illicted that violent of a responce. It is NOT normal to wound someone so bad they lose an eye during a fight between young boys.
Without knowing Myachs face yet, Robert phrased it best when the worst that happened was Joffery got bit in the arm by a wolf the size of a dog. "Damn it, children fight. It's over." But Cersei escalates this by propgating Jofferys lies and publically paints Arya out to be a wild animal. And we all knew then that Joffery was in the wrong in a much less serious situation (unless your Myach).
But here, the wounded child, was the one the other kids attacked themselves, and then allowed their mother to take charge and demand he be tortured. She accuses Aemond of starting a fight they know they instigated, and then allowed their mother to demand torture for a boy saying something that was already a rumour.
We all look at the adults in that situation but the Strong Boys mutilated Aemond and then allowed their mother to lie about what happened and demand torture for something he merely said in anger.
Now part of the issue is that Jace and Luke especially have essentially, no real individual character. Much like Baela and Rhaena's lack of character development, they are mostly a duo who dont stand on their own. Season 2 will change that for Jace obviously, but all we have seen of the boys in the most prominent scenes with them is a willingness to use aggression and allow their mother to violently lie for them to cover up their own wrongdoings.
Other then being bastards, the Strong Boys have literally no comparison to Jon Snow. They were called and raised as highborns. Those boys were literally involved in inheritance debates. They have massive privileges every other highborn does.
Jon grew up a known bastard and that literally dictated his entire life as lesser then the siblings he grew up with. He is nothing like them because he fought for everything he has and it's still nothing compared to what those boys were given for absolutely nothing.
Also, Jon never cut another boys eye out in a fight when they called him a bastard. Literally the first time we see him get that violent is trying to stab Ser Alliser, and that was for insulting his fathers honour after said father was arrested for a treason Jon knows is likely untrue.
Jace hopefully will have better development this season, but as it stands, he and Luke both were the kinds of people who wouldve spat down on the likes of Jon Snow.
And those bad traits come from where else but Rhaenyra herself. I don't support shitting on them because theyre bastards but most people who don't like Team Black get painted as bastardphobic regardless. Its a weak argument to disavow giving by looking at real critiques, and just going "oh youre just supporting treating bastards badly why should i listen to you"
As if people like me literally aren't massive Jon Snow defenders, who support Jon staying a Snow and being proud of who he is rather then him feeling like he needs a truename to be of value.
I mean people get angry just seeing them being called the Strong boys. Like use your eyes, people. They look just fucking like Harwin theres not a single drop of Laenor anywhere near those kids apperances.
I'm not trying to just diss the Strong boys, unlike what some fans will paint any criticisms as. Its all just really messy. You just cannot discuss them without Team Black throwing a tantrum.
#house of the dragon#hotd#game of thrones#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#anti team black#anti targaryen#anti targ stans#anti rhaenyra targaryen#anti rhaenyra stans
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Thinking again about how Sakura and Tsunade are depicted as violent women for comedy relief purposes and how much it links to their value as people in the war setting of Naruto.
Let's start with the obvious: In Naruto, the more capable of violence an individual is, the more the shinobi system finds them valuable.
That's because they are always at war or waiting to be at war. They need to be a threat in order to be respected and in consequences, defenseless people can't speak without someone with great power or influence willing to back them up.
The Land of the Waves is the perfect example.
Now, it's very important to say that comedy relief moments in Naruto aren't meant to be taken all seriously. They tell us about the characters and their dynamics, but "women beats men" is a trope that most of the time is meant to be taken as a sort of compliment for the female characters of Naruto. It means they are strong and won't take any bullshit, that they are assertive, have a strong personality and generally they are great fighters.
I'm not defending the trope. I don't like the trope myself, but it is what it is.
This sort of "masculinization" of the women of a story is common for older media. "She's not like the other girls!", "she was raised with 5 brothers, so she's very tough!", "she does (insert activity that is associated with the male stereotype) so she worries no man will ever find her feminine enough to date her", blah blah blah.
It is followed by the author stating that they are still very much women, capable of being wanted and being feminine— you know the rest.
Those characters are always overcompensating for some vulnerability of their past. They were or felt like helpless little girls at some point, so they decided to grow strong to prevent anyone from hurting them or their loved ones again.
It doesn't matter if their natural positions should have given them some advantage. They were kids and more than that, they were women. It's a given that they were going to be discredited.
In Tsunade's case, she was the granddaughter of the two Hokages, a student of the third one, she was a Senju, a promising medic nin. Yet, it took Dan to speak for her for other shinobis to take seriously her proposal of assigning a medic nin to each team, at least until the war was over.
Tsunade innovated the way wars were fought. It is a fact. What needs to be said about medic nins in times of war is that their services will always work in favor of violence. They save soldiers so they can keep fighting, right? To have the best medic nins on your side makes your tropes terrifying to other countries, 'cause yours would not stay down for long. They would die less, get less sick, it'd be harder to take them down.
Tsunade's first vulnerable moment was when her little brother (Nawaki) died. That's her first time really feeling like a helpless little child. Orochimaru was a strong punch to the gut too, but nothing as bad as losing Dan. She convinced herself that she had put a curse on them by accident and isolated herself.
You remember what she's famous for?
Her beauty, her temperament and her skills.
She's pretty, but don't play with her because she will punch your guts to a new galaxy if you dare.
And that's the joke. Haha, this woman won't let you fool around or disrespect her. She doesn't like feeling like she's being dismissed. In many of the comedy relief situations, Tsunade is punching someone (Jiraiya, Naruto) for being inappropriate when talking to women or existing around women
So it's interesting to think how those scenes were supposed to show the audience that Tsunade was strong and capable and worthy of respect. Look, she is dangerous so it's better not to interrupt her while she's speaking or do not underestimate her for being a women
It was explicitly stated in her fight with Madara, where he called her a weak woman. No comedy there.
Now, those funny-violence gags are not reserved for women. We saw Naruto punch people too because he thought they were being unserious.
I think the real problem comes with the fact that such comedy was maximized with Sakura Haruno
Sakura is the original helpless little girl. Before any other female character, we were presented with a too smart for her own good brat with anger issues who based all her worth on how well she could compete on the social scenario of teenage girls.
In order to understand Sakura, we need to place her side by side with Naruto. They are the hero and the heroine of the manga. They were the first male and female characters we saw being bullied. They were both loud and annoying. None of them thought before speaking or considering how their actions could hurt others. They blindly thought they knew what they wanted, who they liked and who they hated. They had their rivals/best friends and that feeling of not belonging, of always being invisible, of being ignored. Naruto accumulated rage appeared in the form of Kurama, but Sakura had that inner version of herself.
All I'm saying is that Sakura is full of issues and insecurities. Her normal life didn't save her from it, despite what other characters could think.
What was Sakura's arc through Naruto Classic? Do you remember? It was her learning that being shinobis was not a game and that she needed to become dangerous if she wanted to be and do anything in that world of hers. It was not enough to memorize concepts, because applying that knowledge in the safety of a classroom was very different from actually fighting for her life.
Sakura spoke mostly through Naruto back in their genin days. We know she impressed Ibiki Morino with her intelligence and Kakashi gave her some high praise during the Chunning Exams. Those comedy relief was meant to show us that she had the potential, but she needed to learn first.
Turning her into a new version of Tsunade was Kishimoto's way of complimenting her. He gave her the beauty, the strength and the skills. Most importantly, Kishimoto gave Sakura the means to make people shut up and listen to her. There is a reason to consider her within the narrative that doesn't extend to her value to other characters (aka how much team 7 cared about her).
What another example? Think of Temari or Chiyo or Kushina. They are all accomplished kunoichis with attitude and a mean punch.
The contrary is the stereotype of quiet girls who are either made fun of for being weird or get discredited for not being the "violent" type.
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Wild Visions - Chapter 4
The Chain tries to figure out what has affected their Wild brother. Meanwhile, Hyrule tries to do some investigating while playing along as Princess Zelda.
🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴
“Woah, Sailor, slow down, what do you mean Hyrule is Zelda?” Time asked, trying to understand Wind's wild and mostly incoherent babbling.
He, Legend and Sky had returned to camp late in the afternoon, closely followed by Twilight and Warriors. Wind had instantly fallen into telling them of their meeting with Wild on the road near the Rito village.
“He tied us up and left us there. But he took Hyrule with him, he kept calling him ‘your highness’. He didn't attack him at all.” Legend explained, while he allowed Wars to tend to his dislocated arm.
“Wild also took the Master Sword, he didn't seem at all happy that I had it,” Sky added, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
The young knight had retrieved the Master Sword when the first portal had opened in his time. He had briefly heard Fi call out to him and urge him to take her on his journey. That had been months ago now, and her familiar weight on his back had become a comfort. Now he felt almost too light without her there. He knew well enough that each of the heroes of Hyrule had their own relationships with the sword. Some were better than others. But he wasn't the only one that mattered. Whatever mad state Wild was in, he clearly remembered his connection to the Master Sword.
“He didn't seem like he was going to hurt Rulie?” Four tried to clarify.
“Not at all. For whatever reason, Wild seems convinced that the traveler is his Zelda. And if we can be sure of one thing about Wild, he will defend Zelda with his life. I don't think we have to worry about Hyrule,” Sky insisted.
“So what do we do?” Asked the Captain.
At that moment he popped Legend's shoulder back into position. Most of the boys winced at the scream which tore its way up Legend's throat. Wind, who had been sipping on a potion, spat out a mouthful and quickly wiped his face on the back of his sleeve.
“Sorry Lege, you were pretty nicely distracted,” Wars patted him on the back and offered the Vet a potion.
Legend snatched it from the Captain’s hand, glaring at him as he took a violent swig.
“Wild clearly doesn't recognise the rest of us. He never said a word when he attacked Four and myself,” said Time.
“He only spoke to Hyrule when we saw him,” Wind added.
“Sounds like how he was before,” Twilight uttered, deep in thought while he'd listened to the others.
“Before?” Asked Four, “before when?”
“Before the Calamity.”
***
Link felt greatly relieved to have Zelda back under his watchful gaze. He still couldn't remember how they had been separated in the first place. But he decided that in light of rescuing her from the Yiga soldiers, it was of little consequence.
They walked in relative silence around the perimeter of Lake Totori, the light of the slowly fading sun reflecting off its deep waters. On their left, the imposing pillar of rock the Rito called home stood silhouetted against the sky. High above, Link could see the tiny forms of Rito flying among the clouds. He wondered where Revali might be. Whether he might be at home with his people, or spending time at Hyrule Castle with the king and the other champions.
The sooner he and Zelda reached home, the sooner Link would find out.
Night began to fall as they reached the stable. Link approached the front desk and asked for two horses for himself and his traveling companion. They had always agreed he wouldn't refer to the Princess by any royal titles while in common company, just in case they were ambushed by Yiga.
“Link, it’s getting late,” Hyrule pointed out, stepping forwards and offering Wild a sleepy smile. “Perhaps we should stay here for the night and push on in the morning. We're not in any rush and it would be safer to travel by day.”
Link considered the proposal for a moment. Zelda was right that the roads were safer during the day. At least they wouldn't have to worry about stalfos. Also Zelda would be able to get a good night's sleep in a bed before a long day of riding. As much as Link felt a nagging in the back of his mind to get going, he didn't want Zelda to suffer on his account.
“Alright, we can stay the night. I'll stand guard outside,” Link decided.
Hyrule almost panicked, but he managed to keep his cool and kept talking.
“But surely you need rest too, Link? How will you protect me if you're tired?”
“I've traveled for days without sleep before, I can manage,” Link replied, offering Hyrule a placating smile before turning away from the desk.
Hyrule wanted Wild to go to sleep so that he could search through his stuff. He hoped he might find something to tell him what had happened to his friend, but he couldn't do that if Wild insisted on staying awake. Then Hyrule had a thought. He wasn't Hyrule at the moment, at least not to Wild anyway. He was Zelda and Wild had sworn to protect and obey the Princess of Hyrule.
“Link, I order you to sleep.”
Wild halted in his tracks. Hyrule gulped, nervous that he'd overstepped. A moment later, Wild's shoulders sagged and he turned his head to look back at Hyrule
“Alright, fine. I suppose we're safe enough here. And there's always someone at the front desk.” Wild sighed and walked back to the front of the kiosk. “Will you swear to wake me if there is trouble?”
The man behind the counter appeared a little startled by this request, but quickly overcame it.
“I swear to wake you sir, but rest assured these lands have been much safer in recent times.”
Link thought that was an odd thing to say. Perhaps the Rito had been running extra patrols. Revali’s last report had told of more monster sightings in the hills and around the Hebra mountains. Still, he nodded and thanked the stable-keep.
He and Zelda found a pair of beds together on the far side of the room. Link carefully lent the Master Sword against the wall by the head of his bed, before taking off his boots and his belts. Zelda was quick to get herself comfortable and snuggled up under the blankets. Link almost chuckled at how only her eyes and nose were visible above the top of the blankets.
Zelda had such beautiful eyes, filled with light and wonder, like the light of - a fairy. Wild and untamed -
Link shook his head. For a brief moment he thought he was looking at someone else. But there was Zelda, her eyelids softly drifting shut as her head sank into the pillow.
Everything was alright. Zelda was safe and Link would take her to the castle. He would fulfill his latest command and everything would be alright.
***
“You all know Wild remembers very little about his life before Calamity Ganon,” Twilight sighed.
The others nodded as they gathered around their newly rebuilt campfire to listen.
“When Wild remembers something, he often slips into a catatonic state and he won't respond to anything for a while. Then when he comes back to himself, sometimes the things he remembers affect how he behaves. For example, he told me once that he remembered a time when Zelda was one of the few people he would speak with. With anyone else he would sign or simply not speak at all. The memory was so strong that he struggled to talk to us for a few days afterwards.”
“Do you think he's stuck in a memory?” Wars suggested. “He's reliving some trauma where Zelda was in danger so he's doing everything he can to protect her.”
“That could be one explanation,” Twilight nodded.
“There's something else too,” Time spoke up. “I found muddle bud spores on Four’s tunic after Wild attacked us.”
“So he's confused,” Sky remarked. “That's why he didn't recognise any of us. The muddle bud made him think we were enemies.”
“We could have looked like anything to him if he got hit by that stuff,” Legend huffed, rubbing at his newly healed shoulder.
“But why does he think Hyrule is Zelda? That's what I don't get,” said Twilight, rubbing his hands over his face.
“I don't think we're going to find the answers tonight,” Time sighed. “At least we know where he's going, and we know he can't teleport with more than one person, so he and Rulie will have to walk or ride to the castle. If Wild let's Zelda stop to rest on the way, which I can almost guarantee he will do, we should be able to catch up to them easily enough.”
“Then I suggest we leave at first light and cut across country to make up for lost time,” Wars stated, slapping his hands on his thighs.
“I agree, everyone get some sleep. I'll take first watch,” Time decided “We'll break camp in the morning.”
***
Hyrule itched to get up out of bed. But just because Wild had agreed to go to sleep, didn't necessarily mean he was going to do it. As dutiful as Wild seemed towards his Zelda, Hyrule knew him a lot better than even Wild thought. He suspected that Wild would try and stay awake as long as possible to keep a subtle eye on Zelda as she slept. So Hyrule waited as long as he could to make sure Wild had in fact fallen asleep.
Even then Hyrule forced himself to stay put. Wild was one of their lightest sleepers, the slightest sound could wake him even from a deep sleep. Leaving Hyrule to fight off his own fatigue and wait for the tell tale sound of Wild's breathing to change.
Somewhere after midnight, Hyrule took his chance. He soundlessly slipped out of his bed and crept across to Wild's. His slate lay on the pillow beside his head. With feather light fingers, Hyrule pilfered the device and turned it away so the light wouldn't fall onto Wild's face.
Hyrule quickly but clumsily flicked through Wild's inventory. He didn't know what he was searching for, but he had spent enough time looking over Wild's shoulder while he'd consulted his slate, that he hoped he would notice something obvious if he saw it. Nothing jumped out at Hyrule however. There were no new plants in his ingredient list. No cursed items in his inventory. Also nothing of note seemed to be missing either.
Defeated by his first search, Hyrule carefully replaced the slate where he'd found it. He knew Wild kept almost everything he had in his slate, but he also carried an adventurer's pouch just like the rest of them did. Since Wild had slept on top of the blankets, it made it easier for Hyrule to pick Wild's pockets. There wasn't much to be found in the first pouch Hyrule tried. Some dirt and a few bits of broken twig, along with a few golden seeds and his climbing gloves. His second pouch almost felt empty too, until Hyrule's finger tip brushed something hard and cold.
He hesitated before gingerly removing the object from Wild's pouch. Hyrule turned with the thing gripped in his fist and held it beneath a nearby lamp. It glinted in the warm light, and Hyrule saw at once that it was a small glass vial. Similar in shape and size to the ones Wild used to keep his elixirs in. Only this one was a colour Hyrule had never seen before.
The liquid inside was a warm honey yellow with a very runny consistency. As he tilted it one way it appeared almost clear, but if he shook it, the contents would become completely opaque. Knowing better by now than to drink strange potions, Hyrule popped off the cork and took a sniff.
Though it looked like honey it almost certainly wasn't. There was nothing sweet or familiar about whatever was inside that vial. It was certainly magical however, which is why Hyrule slapped the cork back in almost immediately. The magic inside felt like corruption, like the miasma that choked his era. It was so foul it almost made him retch.
Had Wild drunk some of this stuff? Was that why he was acting so strangely? But surely, even with his low ability for magical perception, Wild would have sensed the dark aura over such an item. Then another idea dawned on Hyrule. What if he'd been forced to drink it? What if someone with vicious intent was behind Wild's actions?
Hyrule didn't have to reach far to think of a certain someone he knew might be capable of something like this. Had their persistent enemy finally found a way to corrupt one of their own? Had Dink got to Wild while the rest of them were sound asleep? If he had, Hyrule merely added this latest crime to Dark Link's long list of offenses against his brothers.
< Part 3 : Part 5 >
#whumptober2024#whumptober#legend of zelda#fandoms#linktober#linktober 2024#the legend of zelda#fanfic#link#linked universe#lu chain#breath of the wild#lu wild
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The Enraged Inferno || Part 2
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Character: Diluc
Type: Angst, tragedy, Revenge and Reader in her villian era
Tags: Fem!Reader
Requester: @sailorstar9
Content: Years later, Since the reader's distant relative is Baizhu, it would make sense she would have Dendro healing abilities, as Baizhu have been training you to defend yourself and medically educate you. However, ironically, you were in your villain era, You were angry, you felt robbed. This was trauma without you realizing it. Despite being taught to be a catalyst user, you decided, why in the hell would you even try at this point? You decided, a sword would suit you much better. How would life continue after this?
Trigger Warning: I might be a little violent in this story to stress the Villain Era the reader is in, and also, dealing with trauma so please proceed with caution. I might add cursing a bit, please let me know if you can feel the idea of the reader without the cursing.
Part 1: Here
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You applied medicine to your scars to help ease the sore aches. This medicine was specifically made for you by Baizhu. You rubbed your healed yet scarred wounds with medicine as you stared at them blankly.
"W-What are you doing!? S-Stop! It hurts! W-Why?? AHHH!!"
Those words of your own voice echoed in your head, you clenched your jaw. Three faces burned in your head, you remembered them so clearly. As they were the result of your so called infamous death. You stood up, and took your sword with you. Of course you kept your catalyst weapon with you out of habit.
You walked out your room, and went down to manage the register up front as you rubbed your forehead to help keep a calm your expression. You don’t want to scare customers, and you never intended ruin Uncle Baizhu's business with your own issues anyways. Qiqi was doing her usual things such as organizing the shelfs. You walked to the register, and got ready for the day.
"I'll manage the register today but only because I actually have another job for you, my dear" Baizhu appeared from behind, as he was in the storage room of the pharmacy pulling out fresh medicine in a series of crates.
"Good morning, Uncle. What do you need me to do today?" You walked to him and helped him unload the crates of fresh medicine. You were strong even to carry these crates like nothing, and of course, Baizhu would notice and comment on it, however not this time, since there was another matter at hand to be concerned about. "Well...there is an order that needs to be delivered to Mondstadt. I would like you to do that for me. Our usual deliver men are on break, so I need someone to cover for them. I didn’t find anyone in time, so you are my last option. I apologize for dropping this on you so suddenly my dear. I'll make it up to you."
You looked at him surprised as you remembered-- Baizhu doesn’t entirely know that you faked your death in Mondstadt. He only knew that you almost got hurt and that you needed a safer place to be in. However it had been years, and you have been training to be better in self defense. Out of anger, out of fear, out of revenge. You wanted to taste the days where you get to strangle those servants with your own hands. You know, you practiced, unknowingly to Baizhu. You await that experience to drip in your mouth, as though-- right now, you remain thirsty.
You nodded slowly with your arms crossed, deep in thought. "No worries, I got it, I'll prepare to leave in the afternoon." Baizhu smiled. "Wonderful, thank you my dear. And...I know your mother passed away recently, but...I know she's very proud of you. If only we knew, we could have helped, but your mother isn’t the kind of women to speak up when needed to be" He placed his hand on your shoulder. You smiled, but that was just a mask. You knew that very well with your mother, but don’t worry. That ends with you, you'll be the first women to speak up and scream to let them know who you are.
You especially wanted to dig deeper graves for those three servants, deeper than your own mother's grave. Deeper, to the point of touching hell itself. You'd rather be a criminal then some innocent bystander. You rather cause a shitshow then be in one. You rather cause chaos and sink your hands in those who deserve it. You didn’t care. Jean included. She doesn’t get off empty handed. None of them do. And Dulic...would you rather he pity you helplessly or fear you graciously? I don’t need to provide such an answer do I? Fuck those prissy shits.
Later on, you already left, you bid your polite goodbyes to Baizhu and Qiqi, as you were preparing to take the walk to your homeland. You wonder how life is like on there. You wore dark clothing, black pants, black turtleneck sweater, black shoes, bags under your eyes, as you nightmares of your incident. You used to wear such pretty and light clothes. Such innocent bloodstained clothes. Don’t worry, this time, the blood won’t be yours, and it would never show on black clothing would it? You were walking on your path to Mondstadt, as you were passing Guili Plains.
Some hilicurls spotted you nearby and ran towards you, without hesitation, you swung your sword and decapitated them all in one swing. You placed your foot on one of heads and crushed it under your foot. It was like you crushed a large snail shell. Stiff but with enough pressure, it breaks. You looked at the shielded mitachurl with malicious and murderous intent. Immediately, the mitachurl backed away sensing violence in you. You stepped forward, planning to be merciless and brutal towards it, however with that step, the mitachurl ran away.
"No one will mess with me...no one will take me as a joke. Ever again." You muttered to yourself and walked towards Mondstadt once more. Your lovely homeland.
A day later, you arrived there and looked around. Nothing changed, it was the same. You walked to the person you needed to deliver the medicine to, it was a man named Anthony. The medicine was for his sick little sister named Anna. She had a chronic illness, he is trying everything to help her feel better. Once you bid the man farewell, there was one thing has plagued your mind, what had come of the home you grew up in? You walked to your neglected home, the one you used to live in since a baby. You still had the keys to it. You went to the corner of Mondstadt and saw it, it was the same but had overgrown greenery, however, it was still...home. You unlocked the door and walked in, and saw dust and clutter everywhere. Boxes, and taken down picture frames.
You wondered if your mother was suffering from guilt from sending you away, however, it doesn’t matter now, she was gone. You were gone. Everything was gone.
You sighed. Regret filled your lungs, as you looked at the pictures of you and your beloved mother, as you loved her but you were so angry with her. You cried enough before, but being here makes you want to cry again, this was the home place of your mother. You never really had a father, it was just you and her. Now it's just you. The loneliness is aggravating. You started to go through through the mail, as it had pile up over the months, until you saw a letter that caught your eye. A letter from the Favonius Knights to sell the house since there was no one there paying for it nor the bills in it.
You thought for a moment. Could you perhaps move back in Mondstadt? Take over this home, and maybe, return to a life here. You thought for a moment, then thoughts of Diluc flood your mind, Jean, and her servants. You assumed they married and had children. You felt disgusted. "Hah, bunch of weak backed shit heads. I'll show them." You muttered with a reverge thirsty smile. However, the deeper the smile, the more empty and lonely it was.
You took the letter in your clutch and left. You walked into the Favonius Headquarters, and walked in on Jean in her office. Jean looked up, as her jaw dropped, and stood up. "Y-You..but...you.."
You looked at her unfazed. "Is that really yo-"
You placed the paper in front of her on her desk. "Shut up."
You pointed at the letter. "My mother passed, so I will be taking over the house, so no need to ransack it or sell it" You had malice and murder in your eyes. Yet you were emotionless. You wanted to strangle this women with every inch of your life.
Jean took a step back, startled. "You...You aren’t the same person as before...you...you're different."
You glared at her silently. "Man, if I could strangle you here and now, I would. However, I have better things to do then to waste my time on some waste of flesh here in front of me."
Jean's jaw dropped once again, as she looked at you worried. She took the stamp and stamped the letter with shaking hands. As she is well aware of murderous glare you had towards her. You took the paper and turned to leave. This was not like you. Not like you at all. This wasn’t the person she knew when you two were younger.
"Wait..." Jean stopped you, as you continued to walk out. "Wait!" Jean ran and stopped in front of you. "In case you didn’t know...Diluc and I didn’t get married...so so...you can stop your anger towards me! He voided it and he left. He...He owns a winery now, but I am still trying to get him back and make him marry me! So still consider us engaged! So don-"
"Good for you." You said coldly, and not really feeling like your anger had to be justified to her. You walked passed her.
"Also..." Jean continued hesitantly. "Your boss, Baizhu, said you had another order of medicine, he sent me a messenger about it..." You sighed and groaned with your head tilted back and eyes closed. "Can’t you leave me alone you petrified shithead...?"
Jean was taken aback at your reaction to her, even more that this was from your job, and not even in her control. She was used to you being kind, she was used to being loving and forgiving. No matter what she did to make you hurt and suffer, you always smiled and forgave her. You even wished her happy marriage, this only made Diluc like you more, as nothing seem to faze you. Despite nothing still fazing you now, your kindness was gone.
All you see, is a pile of useless shit in front of you. The downfall of Mondstadt. Jean felt your eyes as such. She sighed and held both her hands up. "O-Okay okay, dear Archons..."
Jean gave you an address to the delivery. "Here, this person ordered medicine just now, you should get it to them..." You took it and left. Jean watched you leave as she felt shivers down her spine. She had a bad feeling about you.
You can finally breathe, it was suffocating in there, like close enough you were about to punch her. But now isn’t the right time for that, there will be a time and place. You always knew that.
You walked back to your now renowned home, as you looked at the address. "Huh...a winery..?" You began making the medicine and preparing it. You then wrote a letter to Baizhu, about you living in Mondstadt and you will expand his business in Mondstadt.
The next day, you looked at the address and walked outside of Mondstadt, and straight to a large mansion placed in the middle of nowhere. "Huh...a big winery...but also a big mansion..." There was a line of grapes crops and a small town nearby. You walked to the door, and knocked. Adelinde, a maid of Diluc answered, as she held the door open. "Ah, thank you for the medicine. We have to sign a receipt that we received it, yes?"
You nodded and held up your hand crafted receipt as you don’t have access to the record papers. It was back in Bubu Pharmacy in Liyue. You needed to keep records of orders in case anything, business rules. Baizhu was smart for that especially when it came to taxes. " You walked in, and looked around. "This all...kinda seems familiar..." you whispered to yourself.
Adelinde opened Dulic's main office, as you walked in with the papers for him to sign, you gazed around his office, then onto him. Diluc has yet to acknowledge you, as you looked at him with a blank face. His hair had grown, he looks more like his father now. He is taller now, he got more muscular now. He dresses more astrostcatic now, despite his attempt to blend in.
You walked up to him without a care for manners or etiquette and placed the paper on his desk. "Please sign for your order." You said, as you wanted to leave as soon as possible.
Just then Diluc looked up at the paper, and nodded. "Yes, one moment." He had an annoyed expression, and then took out a pen to sign. But then he looked up, and his gaze fell onto you, and he paused.
His eyes went wide, as his face went pale. His annoyed expression dropped as he takes in this life changing occurence slowly. He gasp as he immediately stood up and walked to you and pulled you into a tight hug. "I...I thought you were gone..." He spoke in such a desperate tone.
His eyes were shut tight, as tears fell onto your cheek. Finally, a tragedy that wasn’t true. He desperately nuzzled your hair, as he slowly leaned back against his desk while hugging you. You were standing in between his legs, being held against his chest.
You sighed and pulled away using your hands on his chest to push yourself away from him. You looked up at him with a tired and blank face. "Sign the receipt so I can go." You said coldly. He looked at you, confused. This wasn’t the same, kind and sweet woman he knew. "Huh...?" He placed his hand on your chin and gently pulled you to look up at him, and look at your face. "What...What happened to you..?" He looked into your dead eyes and scrutinize your tired face.
#genshin headcanons#genshin impact x reader#genshin drabbles#genshin scenarios#genshin impact#genshin angst#genshin fluff#genshin#Genshin Tradegy#genshin impact story#genshin impact scenarios#diluc x reader#diluc ragnvindr#genshin diluc#platonic diluc and kaeya#diluc x you#diluc x y/n#diluc x fem!reader#jean genshin impact#jean gunnhildr#genshin charater x reader
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i wish i loved skully the way you do. there's a special lil freaky dude in your brain that doesnt exist the same way in mind, but i like yours so much more he seems so much more vivid and alive when you describe him.
i think that's why i like fanfiction so much. it adds so much to these characters that i'm too afraid to dive into like that. like im too scared of what they could become if i let them roam free, that i won't like them anymore, or they'd become something so unlike their canon selves and what's the point there?
or maybe that's precisely the point and the appeal? to create something very personal with these characters as a foundation to spring from?
Ah. Despite lamenting it in the void of tags I am once again briefly reckoning with the Horror of Being seen. I do appreciate the ask though.
This ended up longer than I anticipated. (Like 1k words haha)
I'm not going to defend myself or act coy, Skully sparks an unreasonable amount of joy in my heart and brain for character I did not care about for a month and who is twisted from a character that I also have no particular attachment to from a film i have never watched in its entirety. That ending though man that END. My soul rejected Skully's fate and circumstances at the end of the event so violently that it overcorrected into copium and now seesaws (still very violently) into "HE'S FINE GUYS NOTHING'S WRONG" and "EVERYTHING IS WRONG ARGH THE TRAGEDY" and this is just the state I'm in now I think. The longer the rot stays, the deeper he's burying into my brain wrinkles. Mayhaps one day the love will shrivel and I will look upon this time fondly but for better or worse I do not think that time is nigh.
Skully and Yuu (whatever versions I have made of them) just live in my brain rent-free now. Because I have unfortunately got a never-ending supply of poison. You see, I like yandere content. What you should take away from this is not my questionable and/or concerning taste in fictional characters, but that I can live off the same vibes with mild differences for an eternity and thus with the building blocks that the sick, sick twst writers gave, there is just enough material for me to keep going over the same angst and friendship just in different flavors without getting sick of it. And so my brain keeps jumping between aus where Skully's a ghost, where he's alive, where he's childhood friends with Yuu, where he overblotted, so on so forth.
Honestly I kind of feared coming across as cringe because of just how much he's kind of taken over my blog but you know, might as well admit that rather than skirt around it. Also if I can impart even part of this plague and pain upon others, I think I will be happy from the schadenfreude of it. Please also suffer as I have from stupid sad sweet skeleton boy disease. PLEASE I CAN'T KEEP HAVING TO MAKE MY OWN CONTENT I mean who said that
I truly did not understand the blorbo disease or the creative crack that a Character could be until Skully, but that (sopping wet pathetic puppy) BASTARD (affectionate) is the reason why I have written so many of the twst fics I have now, because somehow that Skully brainrot has spawned Crewel brainrot and occasionally other character brainrot but I am getting off-topic.
I don't know how canon my Skully is.
The biggest headcanon difference probably being that despite being able to accept and enjoy a flashier, more extravagant, Halloween, I choose to think he still liked his drab original one to some degree. I assume he forgot Halloween town's events like the present day cast did, but that's not a certainty. I like him also having amnesia for angst reasons though, because there is something tragic and horrifying to me about one day waking up and the thing you love more than anything in the world has changed a little and you don't know why. It's like a cuckoo bird, like a parasite laid something in your heart and one day you find the original thing you love has died and what remains isn't the form you loved and cherished for so long though you have nurtured it into what it is. And you can love this strange new thing but the remnants of the old still linger in the back of your mind. There's just so much horror and tragedy that could be in him and we are stuck with nothing but the knowledge that he was a lonely boy who was very attached to Halloween and Jack Skellington and the worst he ever did to someone who played along with him instead of fighting him on his practices was kidnap them for a sort of date I suppose and leave them with snacks. He was so lonely and kept trying to make connections like saying things were fated and finding kinship in the smallest things he was so happy to have a Halloween together with others that even if he didn't remember why, that love and desire to share Halloween haunted him the rest of his life even if it meant his original Halloween which he grew up with for 16 years would eventually die. Because Halloween should evolve etcetera etctera. Well he's become quite like his original Halloween in that he's basically forgotten by the wider population of Twisted Wonderland and that stuff is just so painful.
And also the fact that he's barely known, that he didn't like attention, that there's barely any paintings of him. Why did he have to be invisible in present day? Does he not want to be seen??? Did he want to stay forgotten so his friends of a few nights could enjoy Halloween without missing him??? Is there something wrong with his soul??? His painting can't talk even if other portraits can. Is it really just because Foothill Town isn't as magically-saturated as NRC??? What happened to his soul I need to know but I have nothing but theories that it's split between a roaming spirit and the painting, or got fractured if he overblotted, or that he's just so old he forgot. I need ANSWERS but I also have to make them up.
Anyway, I think the point of fanfic is to do what you want with characters if that makes you happy (even if in a masochistic way). Sometimes that means making them OOC or making them tooth-rottingly sweet or sticking them in the Angst Chamber. Someone else out there may enjoy it. If they don't, at least you will enjoy it, If you don't enjoy the character anymore, then move on. If the character mutates beyond canon, file off the serial numbers, change enought o make the Character an OC, there is no fandom police to stop you. If you have your own freaky little dude, cultivate him and let him run free like a cognitohazard. The world is your oyster. If you're afraid of being too strange, make a sideblog or another ao3 account or something.
I think fanwork is undeniably personal. Whatever Skully that ends up in my fics and ramblings probably says something about the things I like and am drawn to. Things about angst and pain and guilt and friendship and connection and affection and self-sacrifice that walks the line between selfish and selflessness and all that stuff. I don't have a psychology degree to pick apart my brain exactly, but using his character the way I do makes me happy and I'm just gonna enjoy it as long as it does.
I do have some faint fears about what will happen if Skully's story is continued in a future NBC event, but even if that Skully ends up being different from the way I picture him in my head, it's not gonna change the one I've already made up. Maybe I'll like his canon form more, maybe I'll like it less, but the fanon one I've made up isn't gonna disappear and I am a believer and appreciated of the 2 cakes thing. If his names is localized as Scully I'm keeping my k-Skully and britishassistant can pry that spelling from my cold dead hands.
#asks#yuna rambles#skully j. graves#twst skully#twst nbc#twst nbc spoilers#idk what to tag this#blorbo discussion i guess#maybe one day i will yield to the thought that i should make some kind of tag about the skully brainrot infesting my waking moments
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You know Mileena’s fatality from MK1 where she stabs her opponents head with two sais and twist them until the head can get pulled off?? (You should really see it to get a better idea)
Picture Nomad!Branch going hunting with a group of ferals trolls and for SOME reason BroZone decided to tag along with him?? (They don’t know how else to spend time with Bitty B, they’re desperate at this point 😭) They promise to be quite to not disturb them, and what do you know a critter does appear!! The group does it thing and manage to hold the critter down and the brothers think that Thing is going to be the one to put it down (honestly, they would have), so image to their absolute horror when Branch is the one to run at the snarling creature with two knives, stab both of them to its head, BREAKING and TWISTING its neck, to finally decapitating the creature and have its head rolling on the ground. The ferals and Branch all celebrate the kill since yay!!! food for the rest of the village for another week, meanwhile the brothers are losing their shit at their brother killing a critter so violently and IS HE LICKING THE BLOOD OFF HIS FINGERS (At least two brothers definitely fainted)????
Needless to say, BroZone needed a moment to process this and did NOT eat the meat during dinner that day trying to hold back tears at the loss of the mental image of baby Branch 😭😭. Meanwhile Branch and Thing are already talking about heading out again tomorrow (Cue to ANOTHER break down of BroZone trying to convince Branch not to go).
(I LOVE your Nomads AU!!!)
THANKS FOR THE LOVE!!!!!! I love this idea sooooo much AHHHH!!!❤️❤️❤️ if u have more pls do tell 😁😁
I’ve said before Branch only comes out on hunts for emergency (or trying to step out of his comfort zone) but since this takes place after they have been found, I like to think he has a easier time leaving the grey village once he knows the Bergens are cool now!
The story would be Branch and Thing wanting to bond (and get more food) by going on a hunt with some of the hunting squads, Brozone would overhear this plan (not putting in too much thought on what the hell a hunt was) and begged to go so they could spend more time together as a “family” (they are so desperate to spend time with Branch, they have no idea how to bond with him without it being something they did with him as a kid) Branch (reluctantly) agrees some cheering happens, the brothers get some gear and their on their way.
They honestly thought they were just gathering berries or playing a game and you know no not hunting HUGE DANGEROUS WILD ANIMALS!!!! The hunt trip overall consists of Bruce and Floyd being bad at being sneaky (Clay and John are like stealth masters) Thing keeps trying to piss Brozone off by being super close with Branch and doing “family stuff” (or what he thinks family stuff is) basically just rubbing their Brotherhood in the other bros faces(they are seething with jealousy) The brothers are also trying to “protect” Branch by shielding him or getting ready to “fight” when they hear a noise (their not the best at “protecting” Branch well besides John of course)
Soon when the hunt looks like a failed trip a GIANT CRITTER comes out!!! The hunting sqaud does its thing and gets the critter tied down as they wait for the killing blow. The brothers at this point circled around Branch to “defend” him from the beast and the bros are just waiting for Thing to handle-…why is Thing just standing there?!?Why aren’t they running at the opportunity to kill?!? why are they starring at Brozone with a knowing look and smug smile?!??
Yelling that’s what the brothers heard before Branch jumped over them and took two daggers out of his hair. He proceeded to stab them into the beasts head, as he quickly twisted them BREAKING the creature’s head off as it rolls limply on the ground… The cheers of the hunters were tuned out by the horror that is currently overwhelming Brozone they just saw their sweet baby brother (who would cry over stepping on a fly) who has just killed a critter 20x his size, he was so sweet and innocent what happe- OH MY TROLL IS HE LICKING THE BLOOD OFF HIS FINGERS, WHAT THE FU-(so Floyd and spruce fainted, John and Clay were standing due to years of being desensitized to this kind of thing, Clay is trying not to puke as John is slacked jawed at the site of Branch )
When they got back they just had these horrified looks on their face but no one payed to much attention to them, except for Branch fretting over them asking if they were ok (the brothers would find it adorable that Branch cared so much if they weren’t currently losing their minds at the moment) When they sit for dinner they are trying their best not to breakdown as the meat of the creature Branch killed was sitting right in front of them taunting them as the horrible revelation of Branch not being their Bitty B anymore is finally sinking in. Next to them Branch and Thing are chatting about going out again tomorrow for ✨funzies✨!! Cue Brozone immediately panicking and begging Branch not to go as they are currently having a complete meltdown while holding Branch trying to keep him their with them (Branch panickingly agreed so they would calm down, he was so scared ) Thing was not amused that they just ruined bonding time 😐
#can someone tell them to stop having a mental breakdown at dinner their getting the food soggy😠!!!#they are going through it#they are so scared#trolls brainrot#trolls band together#trolls#trolls branch#trolls movie#dreamworks trolls#nomads au#trolls au#au idea#grey tribe#trolls original character#trolls oc#trolls spruce#trolls bruce#trolls john dory#trolls floyd#trolls clay#trolls fandom#trolls the movie
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Dark Urge fixed some of the problems I had with act 3
This post has SPOILERS. BIG SPOILERS for both Baldur's Gate 3 and Dark Urge. If you check my tag dark urge I previously wrote an act 1 + act 2 summary of what to expect from it, without any spoilers. Without spoilers, very briefly: expect to have a past you cannot control (of course), your character will say some messed up stuff, you can give in the urges or resist but there are at least two scenes you have no control over, you do get loot for giving in the urges, the story has more mystery and lore, act 3 is the culmination of Dark Urge story too and you can have a happy ending.
Now with SPOILERS
I will go over the acts and write down what extra content happens when you compare Dark Urge to Tav, with BIG SPOILERS. If you want to see why I think Dark Urge is so much better for the story, skip everything and go directly to act 3. A general big change is that as Dark Urge you automatically get the "Baldurian" dialogue because you are from Baldur's Gate.
Act 1: In act 1 there is little Dark Urge content but an introduction. I kind of wish the game had just gone with DU (Dark Urge) instead of Tav directly, to hide the secret better, but I also like Tav a lot and I don't always want to play as an ex-murderer. Still, if you roleplay well the idea is that DU has these violent urges and think they are caused by the tadpole. So you will have to ask your companions about it, and the suspicion remains for half of act 1, at least until you give in the first obligatory urge. The narration oftens tells you that DU wants blood and carnage, wants to feel life slipping away and, well, wants to murder, and you can give in these urges (ex. attack people, bite someone's toe off, kill Gale?? or at least cut his hands) or avoid these urges. Everything else is exactly the same, a part from the fact that DU has a REASON for being on the Nautilus. While Tav is just one of the random people the Nautilus has taken, DU is the one who was put there on purpose.
There are two big events in act 1 and some smaller ones. You can kill a squirrel, but it did not trigger for me, so I don't think it is an obligatory event, but you will kill a bard. Alfira will come to your camp after you sleep a n amount of nights, and she will want to join your party. This happens even if you had not met Alfira in the game. During the night DU will brutally kill her and at this point you can hide the body, or confess your crimes, up to you how open with them. I always chose the option to confess. If you confess immediately you will have a group chat with your party and you can defend yourself (ex. I don't know how it happened but I must have been the one who killed her), or you can wash the blood and then volunteer the information the next morning when the body is found. There is actually a metagaming way to save Alfira… when you get the night scene, reload to the save before, go to Alfira, use the incapacitate instead of the killing option (in actions) and knock her out. Because she is knocked out, the next night a new bard NPC will come to your camp and will be murdered, but not Alfira.
After the murder you will meet the butler. It is immediately clear this is a magical being, and he knows you. He knows DU likes to kill, and he is surprised if DU refuses to give in the urges or even feels guilty for what he had done. You will also get an amazing cloak that turns a character invisible after a kill (it is great for Astarion's sneak attacks).
For the rest of act 1 there is little more content. You can talk minimally with your party about what happened or your urges, but that is it.
ACT 2: In the underdark and during the mountain pass there is no real content, but stuff starts happening at Moonrise Tower. You will meet characters who suddenly knows who you are. They are pretty cryptic about it, but they talk to you as if you were one of them who suddenly disappeared. It really feels like coming, well, almost home. Ketheric remembers you, even the jailer remembers you. There is also a cat in Moonrise Tower who is scared of you and if you talk with them DU WILL kill the cat, so be mindful to avoid talking with cats in the Tower. The skeleton dog from Ketheric room? He also remembers you and your smell.
When you put your hand in the cracks of the wall and hear the brain you will also get new and different dialogue.
After you meet Isobel, you will see your butler again and he tells you that to have a real gif this time you will have to kill Isobel. The quest will be there but you do not need to complete it. If you do not complete it, the butler will come back at night after the Moonrise Tower fight. This is where he asks you to kill your lover (in my case it was Astarion). He tries to convince you and if you say no, this is also where you find out that you cannot really control the urge - you will have to pass a wisdom check to take enough control to wake up your lover and tell them what is happening. At this point, they will tie you up because you are not in control anymore. You can pass 3 wisdom checks to try and thank them, or you can give in the urge but it does not look like there is any difference here but dialogue. The next morning you will have an extra talk with your lover and the party as well.
At this point it looks like the butler abandoned you because you failed your Dark Urge quest.
Another small thing, while under Moonrise Tower you can explore a bit and you will find one of the pod that smells like your blood and other small traces and hints to the fact that someone wanted to get rid of you and that is why you ended up on the nautilus.
Act 3: Act 3 is where most of the stuff gets resolved and things really come together. Orin targets you because you are family, you are her brother. She hates you because you were the Bhaal chosen one. My favourite part is that this really explains why the Chosen three's plan is failing. You were supposed to be Bhaal's chosen, not Orin. Multiple characters (Gortash and Sarevok) comments on how you were such a better Chosen because Orin is fickle, that is why she turns against Gortash. Gortash and Orin against each other always confused me during my Tav game, mainly because it felt so unexplained - like, they were so close to their goal, why is everything crumbling? Because she was never supposed to assume that role. She grew jealous of DU, chosen of Bhaal, and got rid of him by inserting the tadpole in his brain and discarding him.
When you talk with Gortash you also gets even more insight. It is clear that Gortash likes you, that is why is asking for an alliance. Not to a random adventurer called Tav, but to his old ally and friend. You and Gortash basically devised the whole plan, YOU took the crown, you were a fundamental part of it. And suddenly you stopping it (or taking control of the brain) for me had so much more meaning. While playing Tav I always wondered why is Tav even in charge, but when I played DU it really seemed like this was THEIR mess to fix. The confrontation at the temple of Bhaal is the end of the DU storyline which also wraps up why Withers was even with you.
You confront Orin and after you kill her you will meet your father Bhaal, who will ask you to become his chosen again. You can agree, and then at the end you will be able to claim the brain in Bhaal's name. But if you refuse, and give in the guilt for having murdered so many people (before your amnesia), Bhaal will take back his blood and leave you dead on the ground. At this point Withers will come in (and we know Withers is Jergal, the god of death before the Three) and will revive you. You will be born anew, your past is lost because the urge in you had been taken away but the memories with it. You can ask him about those memories too and he says that he can show you the names of your victims if you so desire. You are also a blank slate, a new person born from what you have learnt in your journey instead of your past. So yeah, you can have a good hopeful ending.
More importantly, this fell so well in the themes of BG3 especially the ones of being born again, changing and gods fighting for their chosen. Like Selune and Shar were fighting for Shadowheart, your character was also in the middle of a play of gods. Given Withers was with you since the start, it really feels like he was aiding you not at random, but because you were an escaped chosen one who could be stolen from Bhaal. And being born again and getting rid of your master/tormentor/powerful god/dictator fits so well. ALL your origin companions are in a certain measure subjected to absence of freedom or imbalance of power.
(Also before the Bhaal mission, but after the lover's personal quest you will have the option to break up with them and worry about the danger of killing them, which gives you an extra cute scene).
After the Bhaal mission there is no more content for DU and everything else seemed the same!
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