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#Recognize what she did to him as abuse/manipulation because of the fact he had been taught that if something hurt him he like. Deserved it.

sugoi-and-spice · 10 days

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Chapter Twenty-Nine - Nice While it Lasted

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn

A/N: Manga readers.... I... I'm so sorry for this chapter.

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Tomura Shigaraki didn’t dream.

Or at least, he didn’t consider the series of thoughts, images, and sensations that he experienced in his rare stints with sleep to be dreams. Dreams in his mind were fantasies. Visions of a hopeful future or irrational exercises in imagination. Dreams were nonsensical, removed from corporeality and truth. The things that happened in dreams weren’t real.

This is not what Shigaraki experienced when he slept.

While the flashes in his mind always felt nonsensical at the time, coming in and out of his mind in orderless bits and pieces like a corrupted stream, whenever he came to his senses, he was always able to sort them out. He knew that they weren’t his imagination. These were memories, things that truly happened to him. Even if they didn’t stick with him for long after, he knew that much. Everything he saw when he slept was a horrible, undeniable truth.

Which is why when he shot up in bed around three in the morning with visions of her fresh on his mind he felt particularly unsettled.

He wasn’t sure where they were exactly, somewhere unfamiliar. Somewhere endless. The light around them was too blindingly bright to see it clearly. A city sidewalk maybe, he could faintly recognize the hum of conversation and commuters walking past him in all directions, minding their own business.

They stood facing each other, a considerable distance between them, just staring. She wore an expression that should’ve comforted him (and in many cases had) a small smile and a soft, relaxed gaze. She looked content, completely satisfied with everything around them.

But it unnerved him here, considering the fact that she was just watching him, ragged, desperate and tearing at his own throat with reckless abandon in the middle of the street. She should’ve been horrified by the sight, worried about him. She always had been, even in the beginning of all this, she never wanted to see him hurt.

So why did she look so happy watching it now?

“You told me everything. Gave up everything,” she repeated words he didn’t recall saying, “No… More like that creepy Sensei gave up on you, right?”

He couldn’t speak anymore, didn’t know if ever could actually. His voice was gone, trapped by a burning closure in his throat. He couldn’t even nod. All he could do was stare at her, stuck in a shell-shocked muck of despair.

“You have nothing…” she clapped her hands together happily, “ Finally, you have nothing!”

He couldn’t breathe. The weight of the world, of her horrible joy crashing down around him was too heavy.

“Oh come on… Don’t look at me like that,” she tilted her head, a taunting little pout on her lips, “There’s no way this can be a surprise. After everything you did to me, did you honestly think that I’d forgive you? That I’d love you?”

The completely shattered expression on his face was answer enough. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What an idiot…”

Finally, horribly, she started walking towards him.

“It’s a shitty feeling isn’t it? Having nothing. You’ve felt it before. I’ve felt it…”

She planted her hands on his shoulders, tight. Painfully tight, like they were breaking him to pieces.

“And you deserve to feel that way for the rest of your life.”

He wasn’t imagining the pain. It was a searing, cracking feeling surging through his muscles and neck, his joints and very being. He snapped down to look at his shoulders as it intensified, as he began to crack and crumble under her fingers, his entire body decaying away into dust. It hurt and it emptied him, which only served to destroy him further, faster. The feeling of having nothing, of turning into nothing, all while she stood smiling in front of him, happy he was gone. And as his eyes started to go, he could see everyone around them suddenly stop to stare at him, to watch the wind sweep his remains up away into the blinding, parting clouds above.

They were happy to see him disappear too.

Before the last of him faded away was when he finally woke up, body lurching forward, sending the game controller abandoned on his chest clattering onto the floor.

Lit only by the Game Over screen of whatever he’d fallen asleep playing, he couldn’t remember. It didn’t ultimately matter. Right now all that mattered was the tightness in his chest, the burning in his lungs as he gasped for breath like he hadn’t taken one in hours. It certainly felt like he hadn’t. He definitely hadn’t breathed that entire dream.

No… Not a dream, he reminded himself. After all, Tomura Shigaraki didn’t dream. In his sleep, he only ever saw the truth — horrible and desolate as it was. But this was strange. That interaction between them, he knew that it wasn’t something that had happened between them before.

Which meant it was going to happen in the future.

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cherienymphe · 1 year

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When The Party’s Over XVI (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON (+ mentions of), DUB-CON, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, forced pregnancy, mentions of abortion, forbidden relationship, violence, jealousy, stalking, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, corruption, public sex, innocent reader, Heyward!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

summary: Manipulated into a secret relationship with Rafe Cameron, you’re finding it much easier said than done to do the right thing and walk away…especially when he refuses to let you.

You didn’t know if Pope did it on purpose or not, but you were grateful that he was sharing his location with Kie. They’d left long before you guys had noticed and were more than likely driving like a bat out of hell. As Kie sped down the road, you felt like you were on the verge of losing it.

This very thing was what you’d been trying to prevent.

You liked to think that if you’d been able to tell Pope in your own way, you could’ve talked him down. You could’ve kept him somewhat calm, but because Rafe was a smug asshole, he’d allowed Pope to figure it out in the worst way possible. Now, you were racing to stop your brother from doing something stupid, something that could get him hurt.

You would have to face Rafe again so soon, and the thought made your stomach churn.

Your gaze briefly connected with Sarah’s in the mirror, and you weren’t able to hold it for long, looking away. The look in her eyes told you that she was still thinking about what you’d confessed, and as much as she hated Rafe sometimes, you knew it broke her heart to learn that her brother was a rapist. That he was capable of something so heinous.

“Do they even know where to look?” Sarah wondered.

“They’re probably going to your house first,” Kie murmured, licking her lips. “Do you think he’d be there?”

You looked down, mind racing as you thought about how early in the day it was. It was possible he’d gone back home, but you doubted he would stay there for long.

“He’s probably with Kelce or Topper…at one of their houses. Or the club,” you quietly added.

You could feel Kie glancing at you in the mirror.

“That’s where we hung out a lot around this time.”

The atmosphere felt odd with the reminder of your history with Rafe. Not just your newly tumultuous one, but the fact that you’d been dating him, sneaking around with him for months. It had to be weird for them, especially Sarah, to be confronted with the fact that you, Pope’s little sister, knew Rafe well enough to accurately guess where he’d be.

“Can I see your phone?”

Sarah gave it to you, curiously eyeing you as you dialed a familiar number. Bunny answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” you told her, knowing she wouldn’t recognize the number, and her sharp gasp made you wince.

“Are you okay? We’ve been calling you all morning to make sure you got home okay,” she said, and you could hear Cam in the background. “I mean, Rafe told us you did, but we kind of wanted to hear it from you. You were so sick last night.”

You couldn’t find it in you to be too mad at them despite what happened. Rafe was their friend, and as far as they knew, Rafe was your friend too. Too many times he’d taken you home, looked after you. Too many times you’d actually asked him to, and you couldn’t blame them for thinking last night was no different. How were they to know when you didn’t tell them anything?

Rafe had simply tricked them too.

“Yeah, I did,” you struggled to lie, clearing your throat. “You said Rafe told you that? Last night or…?”

“God, no. He was here like fifteen minutes ago, barely stayed, only came by to get Topper and Kelce for something,” she told you. “They left, so we’re just hanging out at Kelce’s until they get back.”

“Did they say where they were going?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure to Topper’s place,” she offhandedly answered, and you got the feeling that she was distracted by something. “He mentioned something about stopping by there first.”

In the quiet car, Bunny’s voice could be heard, and Kie took a sharp turn, Sarah telling her where to go. You didn’t stay on the phone longer, and when Kie finally slowed near a familiar house, you bit your lip at the sight of a familiar truck.

“Well, now what? They’re not here,” Sarah commented.

“I don’t think they even know where Topper lives, so maybe they won’t even get here in time,” Kie assured you.

You liked to believe that, and you played with your fingers in the backseat. The car was quiet and oh so tense, and as you looked up at the house again, there was a part of you that wanted to go in there and beg Rafe not to hurt Pope. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate to, and again, you thought about his so called love for you. If he did, there was no way he could ever hurt Pope, knowing how much it would hurt you, and you swallowed down a sigh.

It was after a while when you frowned, a concerning thought popping into your head.

“Kie…”

Your gazes met in the mirror as she hummed.

“Do you and Pope share your locations with each other?”

There was a brief pause, both of the girls in the front seat coming to the same conclusion you just did. Kie cursed, quickly fumbling for her phone and hurrying to stop sharing it with Pope. You heard Sarah release a shaky breath, and you looked around, worried.

“Shit,” Sarah mumbled. “They’re going to know exactly why you’re at Topper’s, Jesus.”

The worry you felt before only increased as you accepted that this was happening. Sooner than you would’ve ever wanted, but Rafe and Pope were going to be face to face again, and this time it wouldn’t end as nicely as it had at John B.’s. Pope was going to get hurt, there was no doubt about that, and it wasn’t because you had more faith in Rafe or something.

While Rafe had more to lose than Pope did, he also had the security to keep it all. Anything could happen out here, and if both were arrested, only one was probably getting off Scott free because of his daddy’s money. If Pope was the one to seriously hurt Rafe, Rafe could tell the police whatever he wanted. Rafe was the only one in a position to walk away from this unscathed, and you blinked back tears.

Not to mention, you didn’t think Pope had it in him to seriously hurt anyone.

Rafe did. He’d proven that many times over.

“I think I should talk to him.”

The reactions at your suggestion were instantaneous.

“No!”

“Are you crazy?”

They were both looking back at you with varying degrees of fear and indignation on their faces.

“Y/N, you’re not going anywhere near my brother…ever again,” Sarah fiercely told you. “Not if I can help it.”

“Kie,” you softly said, looking at her. “Rafe has already hurt Pope because of me. He’ll do it again, and you know he will.”

She took a deep breath, shaking her head.

“Pope would die before letting you near Rafe ever again, and you know it-.”

“…and that’s what I’m scared of! How do you think I would feel if something happened to him because of me?”

“…and how do you think he would feel if something happened to you because of him?”

You sat back in your seat with a huff, attention drawn to movement. All three of you looked over as Kelce, Topper, and Rafe exited the house. You watched them pile into his truck, and you frowned slightly, wondering where they were going. As they pulled out of the driveway, you felt a sense of relief that Pope and the others wouldn’t be catching up to them today.

However, that relief died out when a familiar van drove by, following after Rafe’s truck.

“Shit,” Kie whispered, quickly starting her car and following the van.

You didn’t doubt that it wouldn’t take long for them to notice the van behind the truck, following them, and you seriously wondered if Rafe wanted to do this at The Island Club or something. John B. wasn’t picking up the phone, and Kie huffed when Pope followed the same pattern. Even JJ didn’t answer when Sarah called, and you knew they were determined to see this through, not wanting to be talked out of it.

When you realized that Rafe was heading towards the beach, your nervousness grew. You didn’t know what he had in mind, what he could possibly be thinking. Rafe was always unpredictable that way, something you’d come to learn, and it was partially why you were in the situation that you were in. It was a colder day, so not many people were around, but there was just a handful of people at the beach to make you worried.

Sarah gave you a look as they parked, and begrudgingly, you stayed put.

You worriedly looked out of the window, watching as Pope wasted no time before hopping out of John B.’s van. The absolute amusement on Rafe’s face as he turned to look at Pope worried you, and your stomach twisted painfully when Pope punched him square across the jaw. The reason for your worry reared its ugly head when Rafe slammed into your brother, and you sat up when they both fell to the ground.

It was hard to see with everyone crowding around, trying to break them apart or keep anyone else out of it, you didn’t know. When you looked around the beach, the few people on it were either walking away, opting to stay out of it, or watching from afar. You didn’t like this, sitting in the car while your brother and ex-boyfriend fought, having to rely on someone else to make sure Pope didn’t get hurt.

You could see Kelce and JJ fighting, now, and you swallowed when your eyes landed on John B. and Topper fighting too, Sarah trying to talk sense into them. You felt like things were getting out of control, and when you looked over to see Kie with her arm around Rafe’s neck, you realized why. Your lips parted as you realized he was on top of Pope, and with one harsh shove of his arm, Kie fell back onto the ground. You winced, and silently asking Sarah to forgive you, you stumbled out of the car.

You watched as Pope shoved Rafe off of him, forcing the blond to stumble to his feet, and you found yourself in between them just as he raised his fist.

Your eyes were wide as they met his, and you watched the anger in his blue eyes simmer down some. Your breathing was heavy, realizing just how close he’d been to hitting you instead, and Rafe’s nostrils flared as he stared you down. You could hear Pope groaning behind you as he struggled to stand, and to your delight, Rafe looked worse for wear too. You took in the blood on his face and the nasty bruising under his eye. If you hadn’t stepped in, you were sure they would’ve killed each other.

Rafe pulled his lip between his teeth as he looked you over, and you swallowed at the wide range of emotions that passed over his features. Pope was standing, now, and you could feel him touch your arm. Rafe’s gaze snapped to him over your shoulder, and you stumbled back just as Rafe moved forward, Pope at your back as you remained in between them.

You didn’t take your eyes off of Rafe, and when his gaze met yours again, he bitterly chuckled through his nose. Relenting, he dropped his hand, keeping his even stare on you. He tilted his head to the side, reaching up to wipe some blood from under his nose as he ran his eyes over you from head to toe. You didn’t miss the way they heatedly lingered on his shirt that you were still wearing.

“Beautiful.”

Pope tried to get past you, but you moved with him.

“Don’t call her that,” he spat from behind you, and you kept your hand on his arm.

Every time he tried to get in front of you, you prevented him from doing so. It didn’t make sense for Pope to take the brunt of what was meant for you. It was you that Rafe wanted, you who he was mad at, and you pressed your lips together. Rafe hadn’t even been bothered by Pope’s outburst, azure eyes on you the whole time.

“Rafe,” you hesitantly started, tone pleading. “Go home.”

He blinked, pink lips curving upwards just a tad.

“Why would I do that? I’m having too much fun,” he drawled.

“Rafe, please. Go. Home.”

His smirk fell then, and the cold look he gave you made you shudder.

“Make me,” he challenged, and you swallowed. “You know what’ll make me leave, right now.”

Again, you prevented Pope from getting around you at that, tears kissing your eyes as you and Rafe stared each other down. He looked at Pope again, and the glint in his gaze had your heart skipping a beat. You could still hear Pope’s friends fighting Rafe’s with the exception of Kie who’d been worriedly watching this standoff.

Before anyone could react though, Rafe’s hand had snapped around your wrist, yanking you against him with his other hand twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck.

You kept your eyes on him, but you could see Pope frozen out of the corner of your eye, too scared to do anything with you literally in Rafe’s hold. The sudden yelp you’d let out and the way Pope yelled drew everyone’s attention, but you and Rafe only had eyes for each other as he glared at you. You winced at the sting in your scalp, and Rafe frowned slightly at that.

“Rafe,” Topper called, tone nervous, clearly not okay with the turn of events.

“We’re just talking,” he loudly said, voice lowering a bit when he addressed you. “Right…?”

You blinked back tears.

“Go home, Rafe,” you whispered, and he let out a humorless chuckle.

“Yeah? What will you give me if I do?”

You took a deep breath, shaking.

“We broke up,” you reminded him. “…and everything you’ve done since then is show me why I should’ve broken up with you a long time ago.”

Rafe’s face fell a bit at that, and you watched him swallow.

“You were happy with me,” he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear. “You can be again.”

You started to shake your head, bit his tight grip had you flinching.

“I know I fucked up,” he said, leaning in. “I messed up-.”

“Too many times,” you choked out, reaching up to try and pry his hand off. “Rafe, go home.”

He finally let your hair go, but only so he could thread his fingers through yours, and you stepped back, trying to get away. Pope moved closer, reaching for you, and that was when Rafe snapped his gaze to your brother. They stared each other down, and if looks could kill, Rafe would be six feet under. You watched his jaw tick, and when he finally looked at you, he roughly let you go, almost flinging you away from him.

“Go,” he simply said.

Pope reached for you, and you took a step away from your ex-boyfriend. The glint in his eyes didn’t match the even expression on his face, and you hesitated. You watched him with a nervous frown as Pope to your arm.

“By all means,” Rafe said, gesturing with his hand. “Go…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to move, unable to trust him one bit, and you exhaled through your nose, gaze pleading.

“Rafe…”

“What?” he chuckled. “Go.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, and Pope finally spoke.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re gonna go, and you’re going to press charges against that son of a bitch.”

Pope’s voice was low, but Rafe heard him all the same. There was a sinister grin on his face as he looked at Pope before resting his gaze on you again.

“Oh…? Is that what she’s going to do?”

“Yes,” Pope spat.

“Rafe, please,” Sarah spoke up, begging him. “Stop this.”

“Is that what you’re gonna do, beautiful?” the blond wondered, reaching for your face when you slapped his hand away.

“Yes, she is,” Pope hissed, stepping past you.

Rafe didn’t even look at him, and your brows drew together as he stared into your eyes.

“You’re going to press charges against me?” he sweetly wondered, tilting his head. “Hmm?”

Pope looked between you two, growing more worried by the second. He said your name, but you didn’t respond, watching as Rafe’s expression shifted, a vicious sneer on his lips as he stared you down.

“I will bury you and your entire family, and you know it,” he nastily said. “When we’re done with you, you’ll be lucky if your dad can get a cent in this town.”

Pope shoved him, but Rafe didn’t care, staring you down with cruelest look you’d ever seen.

“Ward-.”

“Dad may not like me all that much, but he’s not going to let his only son go to jail,” Rafe drawled, cutting Sarah off as he chuckled at her. “You and I both know that. Especially with the kind of slander she’d be throwing on the Cameron name?”

He blew out a breath, shaking his head, and tears finally spilled over.

“Your sister’s a lot of things, Pope,” Rafe paused, licking his lips. “A lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them.”

Pope had Rafe’s shirt clenched in his fists.

“Do not talk to her, do not even talk about her-.”

“It’s a little late for that,” he said, shoving Pope off of him. “Was it you who drove her to take care of our little bundle of joy? Or one of her dumb ass friends?”

You were frozen as Pope punched him again, John B. and JJ moving to break them up along with Kelce and Topper. You could feel Kie’s hand on your arm, but you couldn’t move, Rafe’s words bouncing around in your head. Even when they finally got them apart and Pope was pulling you towards the van, you couldn’t think about anything else but Rafe and what he’d said.

You looked over your shoulder, and you shuddered when his smug gaze connected with yours.

You hadn’t spoken all the way back to your house, deep in thought and feeling overwhelmed. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you now and then, especially Pope who hadn’t left your side. Rafe’s words just wouldn’t get out of your head, and you held back tears.

“You’re going to press charges, right?”

You blinked at Pope’s question, licking your lips.

“I don’t…I don’t know,” you honestly answered.

His eyes had bulged, looking at you like you were crazy before his face fell, gaze sympathetic.

“Don’t listen to him,” he whispered. “You know pop’s will be alright.”

Even he didn’t sound like he believed that.

Ward Cameron was the king of the Kooks, possessing the kind of money and influence that even other Kooks wished they had. His name went far around here, and Rafe was right. No matter how much they clashed, Ward wasn’t just going to stand by and let you throw dirt on his son’s name, on the Cameron name. No matter how true it was.

“I need to think,” you choked out, standing in front of the house, now.

It was late, and Pope had already called to tell your parents that you’d both been hanging out at John B.’s. You hated how happy your mom had sounded at that, pleased to see her children bonding. Pope glanced at Kie at that, the other girl driving you both home and opting to stay over. Your mom loved Kie, so there was no doubt in your mind she’d be okay with it.

Pope pressed his lips together at your words, and you could tell that he knew Rafe’s promise was getting to you. Promise, not a threat. When you dragged yourself inside, Kie spoke up about coming with you, but you assured her that you needed a moment alone. You could feel her worried gaze on you, no doubt thinking about what you hadn’t told Pope.

In this moment, more than anything, you wanted a shower.

Rafe’s essence was still on your skin, and you contemplated burning this shirt as soon as it was off. When your door clicked behind you, the tears finally spilled over, the events of last night and today catching up to you. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to quiet your cries.

You truly and utterly had no idea what to do.

When you made to grab some clothes, you glanced at your window, noticing it was unlocked, and you hurried to lock it back. You cursed to yourself, remembering your intent to sneak in last night after the party. Only, you never did, because you never came back.

As much as you needed to really think this over, it was too much. More than anything, you needed to shower and rest. Your problems weren’t going anywhere, and you could give yourself a night to forget about what was still going to be there in the morning. You could hear your mom welcoming Kie as they talked in the hall, and you sat your clothes down on the counter.

One look in the mirror had you gasping.

You hadn’t seen your face all day, and you were grateful more than ever that neither of your parents saw you come in. You frowned, staring at the dark coloring on your face in disgust. Hesitantly, you reached up, and you flinched when the tips of your fingers touched your skin. You were reminded of everything that happened last night, and you resisted the urge to cry.

After washing your face, you decided to search for some cream or something to put on it. You couldn’t find much that would help, and you contemplated leaving your room to ask Pope. You didn’t need either of your parents questioning your face, and you weren’t going to put on pounds of makeup just to leave your room for five minutes. Deciding that ice would have to do, you slammed the drawer shut.

…and looked up to meet Rafe’s gaze in the mirror.

All of your breath left you, and before you could get it back, his hand covered your mouth. His other arm snaked it’s way around you, and your fingers scraped at the counter as he pushed you forward. You could feel his heart beating as his chest pressed to your back, and his lips grazed your ear.

He softly shushed you, nose brushing your bruised skin.

“Don’t scream,” he gently told you. “You know…you know I’ll do whatever I have to.”

He didn’t need to remind you, blinking as you remembered him and Pope fighting at the beach. When Rafe took a step back, you were forced to follow, and your tears collected on his hand. He kept making sounds that you were sure was meant to be soothing, but they only made you shake more. When he neared your door, your worry grew, but you only swallowed when he softly told you to lock it.

Reluctantly, you did.

“You know I’m not a liar,” he whispered, guiding you towards your bed.

Your heart sank, and you shifted in his hold, but he held you tight.

“You know my dad will do whatever it takes to keep the Cameron name clean,” he murmured, and when he let you go, you reached back.

His hand fisted in the back of your shirt, and he pushed you down, one hand still on your mouth. You were shaking as he pressed himself against you, and the relief you felt at his loosening hand was only short-lived when it slid down to your throat, squeezing tight. You let out a choked gasp, reaching up, a struggle as Rafe was pushing his entire weight down on you.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he quietly told you. “I gave you chance after chance to come back to me…didn’t I?”

When it was clear he expected an answer, you nodded.

“Now…now I have to resort to playing dirty,” he sounded disappointed by the thought. “Now, I have to make sure you won’t get away.”

Rafe wasn’t making any sense, and if it wasn’t for the lack of the smell of alcohol, you would think he was drunk. There was the possibility he was high though, and one of your hands reached out to pull at the sheets, a sob leaving you as you felt him push his shirt up your thighs. You could hear him fumbling between you, and you tried to push yourself up.

Your nails tore at your bedding when he thrust into you, the action painful and making you attempt to move away. Your toes curled, and Rafe shushed you again, jerking into you as you fought to breathe. He leaned down to bury his face into the crook of your neck, and with every thrust, his hand grew tighter and tighter, pulling you away from consciousness inch by inch.

You hated how slick you could feel yourself becoming, and your nails dig into his hand as he pushed his cock into you.

“We both know you’re mine, beautiful,” he breathed, your hearing starting to fade. “…and soon enough, everyone in this town will know it too.”

#dark!rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #obx fic #obx #obx fanfiction #Outer Banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron fic

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hyperactivewhore · 11 months

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If you're a Damon or Katherine fan, I really don't recommend you read this. But if you dislike them as much as me, go ahead.

I was (stupidly) one of the few people that chose to think Damon didn't rape Caroline, because Pl*c said he didn't. And like, I prefer to believe that, not because I like Damon, I despise him, but because the amount of sexual abuse this show has is disgusting.

Tyler trying to rape Vicky, Damon raping Caroline, Katherine raping Stefan, etc. And damn, perhaps even when Klaus made out with Caroline while he was in Tyler's body.

Do I think he would have slept with her? No, but the fact that Caroline had already took her shirt off and Klaus didn't stop her until later always felt off for me. I don't think he would have raped her, at all. I don't see any of the Mikaelson as the rape type, perhaps Mikael, but not even then.

But anyways, while scrolling through Google, I decided to search how Julie actually "confirmed" Damon didn't rape Caroline, and honestly it's just pathetic.

What does this even mean? Caroline herself said he abused her, AND fed on her. I mean, the quote is literally "I remember how you manipulated me. You pushed me around, abused me, erased my memories. Fed on me."

Yes, Caroline consented to sex the first time, but after that? He fed on her, and raped her as well.

And Katherine raped Stefan as well, I'm pretty sure. When she began compelling him, to "go on exactly like they wanted", he literally wasn't mentally able to consent to a romantic relationship with her, less alone sexual. And Stefan was 17, exactly the same age Caroline was when Damon raped her.

So, if I'm correct, Katherine raped Stefan, Damon raped Caroline and Andy, Tyler tried to force himself on Vicky and I think it's implied Stefan is a rapist as well in a flashback, but I'm not too sure because the last time I saw TVD (other than seasons 3/4) was in 2018, right when it ended, but the whole thing is him being seen with naked women and blood all over them while he had his humanity off I think. Anyway, disgusting.

I don't think the writers intented for them to be considered rapists, especially if we take into account the three of them are fan favorite. But it was 2009, a lot of things were taken lightly and I'm 100% sure TVD wouldn't have made it past the pilot if it had been streamed in 2020.

And yeah, every single character is a murderer on this show, but there's a difference between them. Both are traumatic and both are unforgiving, and in real life no one wants to be through that (I've seen people compare Elena and Caroline's trauma, her being raped and the first being abused by Klaus, which it's disgusting, there is no need to compare them). But if you're gonna bring one of them to fiction, always chose murder. Because in murder there may be a "redeeming" quality that explains why you did it, but rape? It's completely disgusting, it's awful and there is nothing that will ever excuse taking someone's free will like that.

But anyways: The Vampire Diaries is racist, rapist and a lot of things I'm for sure forgetting now. It's really hard to be a fan of this show sometimes, but I still like it, though I'm more of a fan of The Originals. And that show has problems of it's own, considering it made Elijah look racist and made Klaus sympathize with a group of vampires that the show recognized as nazis.

#anti damon salvatore #anti katherine pierce #klaus mikaelson #stefan salvatore #tyler lockwood #elena gilbert #elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #to #candice king #joseph morgan #ian somerhalder #paul wesley #nina dobrev #I posted this a while back but ended up deleting it accidentally #I had it in notes though 🤭

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cleoluvrr · 1 year

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The Last Days of Summer XVI (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)

Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, gaslighting + manipulation

Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.

masterlist

word count: 3.5k+

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Staring out the window solemnly, I watch as the waves crash against the base of the ship as it treks through the deep water of the Atlantic.

The sound of crew members on the other side of the door filled my ears, the voices distant as my brain fights to wrap itself around the predicament I’d been placed in so suddenly. My face felt hot, dried tears cracking in the corners of my eyes and hands unable to stop shaking from the pure rage and anxiety racking my body.

I had been stuck in the room by myself for at least an hour, Rafe reluctantly leaving after my complete refusal to embrace him with open arms as I assume he imagined I would. In fact, I did the complete opposite. The words that came out of his mouth filled me with a fire immediately, the flames bubbling up and out of my mouth in a myriad of curses and screams as I beat against his chest with heavy fists.

“You’re a sick fucking freak, Rafe!” I didn’t recognize my own voice, the sound filling the room almost unfamiliar to me. It was that of a banshee, every negative emotion scratching to the surface to reveal themselves to the world through my voice.

“Calm down…” Rafe says weakly, watching me with sad eyes. He looks as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing, as if I’m the crazy one for being beyond angry. “I know you’re angry, but you need to calm down.”

“Calm down? What do you mean calm down?” I ask. I push him hard and he stumbles back a couple inches before stabilizing again. “Fuck you!”

“Neriah-”

“I fucking hate you! Ugh!” I run a tense hand through my own hair, tempted to pull every braid from my scalp one by one out of frustration.

Rafe scoffs at me, reaching up with a tanned hand to release my own from my hair. He shakes his head, a worried look set deep in his face as his blue eyes rake over my crazed expression. He runs his thumb over the back of my hands in a failed attempt to sooth me, the contact only making me angrier than before because of the pure audacity of him.

“You don’t mean that, you’re just angry.”

Snatching my hand away, I step back to escape his reach. I scoff at the blonde, a disgusted smirk, or grimace, arising on my lips as I watch his every movement.

“No, I meant it.” I nod my head, eyebrows knitting together slightly as I squint at him. A humorless laugh exits my nose in the form of a puff of air. “From the soles of my feet, to the tip of my cold, dead heart; I fucking hate you. You are officially the bane of my existence.”

Rafe looks hurt as the words leave my mouth, eyes searching my face to see if he can find any evidence of me lying. His own expression hardens, tongue poking through the side of his cheek as he looks my entire frame up and down. His head tilts to the right before straightening up again.

Nodding his head at me, his eyes finally reach my gaze again. The male’s face is dark, a storm cloud looming over his head as he stares deeply at me.

“I know you don’t mean that. I know you don’t, because I know you.” Rafe says. “But since you wanna act like that…” He trails off, stepping forward a bit and reaching out towards me. He runs the back of his hand softly against my warm cheeks, gold ring adorning his finger catching against the skin.

He pulls away before I get the chance to smack his hand off.

“I know you don’t mean that…” He chuckles humorlessly. “Make yourself comfortable.” Is all he says before he exits the room. He closes the door behind him but doesn’t lock it, not that there was any point in him doing it in the first place.

There was nowhere I could go.

I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch since he left.

I saw no reason to, the only place I could go to escape this nightmare was the water surrounding us. I almost considered jumping overboard, the bottom of the ocean sounded more appealing than whatever remote island I was being taken to against my will.

Why me? Why did this happen to me? I lived a normal life, I had a normal family and normal friends. I had a normal relationship up until forty-eight hours ago; well, as normal as it could be. What universe was I transported to that decided I should have to experience this of all things? What did I do to end up dating a clearly mentally unwell man with an even crazier family?

I see why Sarah left and never looked back.

My trance was broken at the thought of the Cameron girl, eyes tearing away from the window and surveying the room in confusion.

Where is Sarah?

I stood out of my seat and carried myself to the door, slowly pulling it open a few inches to peek into the hallway. It was empty, the distant voices I heard earlier now much louder as the source was revealed to me. I exit the room, closing the door behind me silently before creeping down the hallway with careful footsteps. Walking through the short hallway, I was led to the inner parts of the ship. I looked around the balcony overlooking the storage basin at the bottom of the large vehicle, the size of it all making me sick to my stomach.

Pushing myself out of the room, I haphazardly open the door to take me to the outside of the ship. The bright sun burned against my eyes as it sat high in the sky, my hand raising to shield my face from the yellow light.

A disorienting feeling takes over my body, a mix of the sudden brightness, the swaying of the ship, and the sight of the never-ending ocean all working together to turn my stomach.

“Neriah?” A familiar voice sounds out from behind me, interrupting my few minutes of peace. “What are you doing out here?”

I sighed heavily, not bothering to turn around and face the owner. I’d much rather stare into the sun until my eyes don’t work than look at the woman behind me. She doesn’t deserve my acknowledgement.

Her footsteps approach me cautiously, heels clicking against the metal floor of the ship rhythmically. I feel her presence not too far away and I’m tempted to reach out behind me and strike her unexpectedly.

“I didn’t know I needed permission to leave my enclosure.” I answer snarkily after a few heavy moments of silence between up. “My apologies.”

Rose huffs irritably, not that she really has any room to be irritated by my behavior. I see her reach for me out of the corner of my eye and I snatch my arm away, body swiveling to face her. My features carry a blank expression as I stare her down.

I walk back towards the direction I came from, violently shoving past the older blond woman and causing her to stumble over her own feet. My own feet drag against the metal flooring, arms crossed against my chest to make a point that I am in no way wanting to be cordial with anyone on this ship. Her heels tapping against the floor as she follows close behind fills my ears, the noise only managing to fuel my anger.

The door to the room is wide open as I reach it, and my eyes roll when I see who occupies it. Rafe sits in the spot that I was in just minutes ago. His arms are folded against his chest, the posture mirroring mine as he eyes me from across the floor. I would turn around to leave again if Rose weren’t blocking the entrance.

“Where were you?” He asks.

“I didn’t know you were my keeper.” I reply shortly, shrugging my shoulders and sitting on a stool on the opposite side of the room of the blonde. He chuckles humorlessly, rubbing at his chin with his right hand as he nods at me.

“Attention all passengers and crew. Report to the tween forward hull.” A male voice announces over the speaker abruptly. “Attention, all passengers, all crew, report to the tween forward hull. That’s an order.” He repeats.

Rafe sighs, whatever words he had for me now stored away for later. I don’t move an inch at the announcement, instead choosing to watch the two blondes leave the room first. Rose exits before both Rafe and I, going to retrieve Wheezie from wherever she is I assume. Rafe bee-lines towards me, feet fast moving in my direction. I still make no movement, knowing that if I did it would turn ugly very quickly.

The blonde roughly grabs at my bicep, the flesh spilling out from between his fingers as he snatches me up from my seat.

“You heard the man. Let’s go.” He says as he proceeds to drag me towards the door. I twist my arm out of his grip and shove him away from me.

“Dickhead.” I comment lowly, my voice barely loud enough for him to hear over the sounds of the ship. I almost trip over my own feet as I walk, Rafe pushing me out the door just as roughly as he grabbed at me.

“Watch your mouth.” He says.

We meet Rose and Wheezie in the hallway before traveling to the hull in a group together. Wheezie tries to look at me with a deeply apologetic look in her eyes but I do my best to avoid them, feeling beyond betrayed by the brunette girl walking ahead of me.

I can hear the crew making their way to the hull as well, deep, confused voices filling my ears as our feet slap against the floor.

I felt like herded cattle, the way Rafe was guiding me towards the center of the ship with a tight grip on my shoulder. It’s not like I had anywhere to go, the manhandling simply a display of his control over me.

“Where are we going?” Wheezie asks. “And where’s dad?” The sound of her voices is grating to my ears, the mention of Ward only contributing to my piss-poor mood.

“I don’t know, Wheezie.” Rose sounds just as annoyed as I feel, though I think it’s because of my less than kind treatment of her and not the confused thirteen-year old walking in front of us.

Rafe lets go of my shoulder suddenly, shoving me forward roughly as I begin to fall behind the rest of the group. I roll my eyes, not moving to pick up my pace at all in an act of defiance. After A few seconds of not being herded, I turn around briefly to look at Rafe only to be met by empty space.

I stop in my tracks, puzzled by his sudden disappearance.

The ship was in absolute chaos.

Shortly after Rafe disappeared, those of us that remained in the hull were locked in by someone on the outside. Apparently there were stowaways on the ship and they took control over the bridge.

We were stuck in the hull for a while before someone that hadn’t been locked inside let us out and instructed the crew to go to the main deck. Rose tried to get me to go with her and Wheezie back to the state rooms, but about halfway there I broke off while she wasn’t looking.

I watched as some crew members ran to the center of the ship where the engine room is, and others as they ran to the main deck.

Armed.

The sight of a bunch of men with guns deeply unsettled me, and everything in my body was telling me to just go back to the state room with Wheezie and Rose. However, my curiosity always wins. Somehow I ended up on the part of the ship where the shipping containers are kept, body on edge as I keep an eye out for both Rafe and the heavily armed men walking around with the clear intentions of killing someone if they could.

I peek around a yellow shipping container on the deck, the large metal box my hiding spot for the time being. I spot a commotion at the top of the ship, the sound of yelling in the distance filling my ears. I squint, barely able to see the bodies from so far away. A glinting object caught my eyes, my vision focusing on the large object swaying in the air on the side of the ship.

I left my hiding spot cautiously, slowly making my way towards the object to get a clearer look.

A cross.

Suddenly, everything clicks. My brother going on and on about a cross, Sarah missing for the entire time I’ve been awake, alleged stowaways, and now the very same cross he showed me pictures of hanging over the edge of a ship that the Camerons are on.

I start running towards the commotion, adrenaline feeling my body at the very absurd, yet not very far-fetched, thought that my brother and his friends were on this ship right now. I stomp up what seems like a million stairs to get to closer to the crane machine holding the cross, the large, god object now swaying madly in the air.

Out of nowhere, the cross begins falling rapidly as gunshots fire in the distance.

“Shit.” I say out loud, picking up my pace as I journey to the top of the ship.

I ran out of the staircase, instead making my way to the railing that overlooks the side of the boat. Leaning over the railing, I spot a smaller boat sitting still in the water below. The vehicle was being occupied by Sarah and John B, and I almost screamed at the sight of the two.

“Sarah!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, unsure if they could even hear me over the sounds of the ship. “Sarah, it’s Neriah! John B! Sarah!” I yelled again.

Sarah’s head snaps up towards my voice, her face barely visible from where I stand. She looks like she gasps at the sight of me, standing up in the wobbly, inflatable life boat. She hits at John B’s shoulder to get his attention, pointing up at me. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but she looks both relieved and panicked.

“Neriah! Over there!” Sarah yells back, her arm violently waving to the right as a prompt for me to look in that direction. “Pope’s over there!”

My head almost falls off my shoulders as I turn to find my brother. He hasn’t seen me yet, but I watch as he runs off the ship and jumps into the water like a crazy person, accompanied by a dark-skinned girl I’ve never seen before. I watch as they flail in the water, the boat speeding over to help them inside.

Sarah points in my direction and Pope’s head follows, eyes spotting me waving my arms in the air to catch his attention. He looks like he’s yelling but I can’t hear him or read his lips from this distance. He hits John B repeatedly white shouting and the brunette begins to steer the boat back towards the ship.

“Other side! Go to the other side!” Is all he says before they jet to the the opposite side of the boat.

I run as fast as I can to the opposite side, not sure how long it will be until the heavily armed crew will find them.

They got there before I did, an unconscious JJ and a worried Kie now joining the other Pogues in the lifeboat. When Pope spots me, he stands up and starts waving at me. My ears ring as adrenaline floods my veins, my body itching to join them below in the water.

“Jump!” Pope and Sarah yell simultaneously. “Hurry, we gotta go! Jump!”

My fingers grip the railing, ready to swing my body over into the water. I wasn’t the best swimmer, but I’d rather take my chances with the Atlantic than the family waiting for me back in the state rooms. Before I can get my foot over the railing, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my body.

The Pogues in the lifeboat below begin yelling frantically and Pope looks like he wants to claw his way up the side of the ship with his bare hands.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rafe whispers into my ear, the warmth of his breath fanning across my cheek.

“Get off!” I yell back, fingers wrapped tightly around the railing as the blonde attempts to rip me away. The rusted metal is rough against my palms, the stinging feeling barely noticeable as fear and panic consume my being.

The only thing I have to my advantage is my hold on the rail. If I let go to fight back, Rafe will overpower me in seconds. If I keep my grip on the railing and make him lose his footing, I can jump ship before he even has the chance to recover.

I do my best to stomp on his toes as hard as I can, but he doesn’t even flinch when I do it. I hear him hissing in pain, but his hold on me only gets tighter as he yanks me backwards repeatedly. He catches onto my idea quickly and kicks at the bend behind my knees. I falter, my knees folding at the assault. He takes the moment of weakness to beat at my hands on the railing with his fists.

I do my best to ignore the pain of him rapping against my knuckles, but the force of his hands against mine feels like it’ll break my fingers at the joint. I ripped my hands away from the metal bars, fingers unable to take the pain he was inflicting any longer.

“Come on, Neriah.” Rafe says as he yanks me up off the floor roughly. “ Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Please.”

“Leave me alone!” My voice is angry and frantic, elbows and feet kicking back against his body as he drags me away from the side of the ship. “Get the hell off me!”

“Neriah!” I hear Pope yell out from below. He sounds just as scared as I feel, and my heart aches at the panic in his voice. “Neriah! I’m sorry!”

“Pope!” I called back. Why is he sorry? This wasn’t his fault.

I felt the adrenaline running out as Rafe pulled me farther and farther away from my escape route. I felt weak fighting against the man, my hits were barely affecting him as I stumbled over my own feet as he pulled me backwards. I scratch at his arms and hands, lines of white and pink left behind as I try to claw my way out of his hold.

“Let go of me, Rafe!”

He continues to ignore my demands, the feeling of his strong arms around my torso only becoming more constricting. The pressure of his forearms squeezing against my ribs was that of a bruising pain. As I look out over the water, I watch the boat carrying my brother and his friends speeding off into the distant waters.

Oh. That’s why Pope was sorry.

I fell limp in Rafe’s arm at the sight of the boat steering in the direction of the sunset, all hope of escape gone. I hear him talking but I don’t listen, my brain too preoccupied with self-pitying thoughts to pay attention to his words. I let him drag me through the halls of the ship, the blood in my ears far too loud to hear any of the voices of the men around me.

We make it back to the room I was in when I woke up and he shoves me inside and shuts the door behind him loudly as he leaves me there alone. I stand in the middle of the room, the sound of the lock clicking barely registering to me.

I don’t know how long I stand unmoving in the center of the room, face stoic as my eyes well up with tears. The voices outside the door are muffled by the wood and sounds of the ship, not that I cared to listen to what they were saying anyways.

My body crumpled in on itself, every inch of me falling to the floor in a large heap of fear and sorrow. Fear of what will happen when we get off this boat. Sorrow for my family, my friends, my home. For my future.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #obx1 #obx2 #outer banks #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x oc #obx fanfiction #obx3 #pope heyward #rafe obx

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fearlessinger · 2 years

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Time to address the Halcyon Green-shaped elephant in the room aka let me explain to you why I think it’s canon even though it seems like it should not be aka another installment of Tinfoilhatting With Fsinger

I’m really sorry I could not think of a better title. Hope you’re intrigued enough to follow me in this journey anyway.

So. The thing is.

The Halcyon story, taken as it is, does not gel with TOA at all.

And not because it’s OOC for Apollo to have done what Halcyon says he’s done to him… Although I think it is. I think an argument can and should be made – and has been made by @flightfoot before – that this story, taken as it is, is essentially… incompatible with Apollo’s characterization in every other scrap of the RRverse he appears in. (This story, and also the Harpocrates story, which I won’t examine here because it deserves its own post. For now I’ll just say it’s interesting to note that it’s the two additions to Apollo’s background that Rick invented out of whole cloth that share this peculiarity, and I don’t think it’s by mistake).

But whether the Halcyon story breaks the internal consistency of Apollo’s characterization or not is a matter of secondary importance in the face of the fact that the Halcyon story breaks the internal consistency of the TOA narrative as a whole.

Take this excerpt from The Diary Of Luke Castellan:

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

Halcyon shrugged listlessly. The monster spoke for him: “I have lost count. Decades? Because my father is the god of oracles, I was born with the curse of seeing the future. Apollo warned me to keep quiet. He told me I should never share what I saw because it would anger the gods. But many years ago…I simply had to speak. I met a young girl who was destined to die in an accident. I saved her life by telling her the future.”

I tried to focus on the old man, but it was hard not to look at the monster’s mouth—those black lips, the slavering bone-plated jaws.

“I don’t get it…” I forced myself to meet Halcyon’s eyes. “You did something good. Why would that anger the gods?”

“They don’t like mortals meddling with fate,” the leucrota said. “My father cursed me. He forced me to wear these clothes, the skin of Python, who once guarded the Oracle of Delphi, as a reminder that I was not an oracle. He took away my voice and locked me in this mansion, my boyhood home. Then the gods set the leucrotae to guard me. Normally, leucrotae only mimic human speech, but these are linked to my thoughts. They speak for me. They keep me alive as bait, to lure other demigods. It was Apollo’s way of reminding me, forever, that my voice would only lead others to their doom.”

An angry coppery taste filled my mouth. I already knew the gods could be cruel. My deadbeat dad had ignored me for fourteen years. But Halcyon Green’s curse was just plain wrong. It was evil.

Now think back on all the times Apollo compares Nero to Zeus or even Kronos, and all the times he does not include himself too as a term of comparison.

Remember how Apollo equated Nero warning Meg her disobedience would “make him unleash the Beast” to Zeus warning his children to not “get on the wrong side of my lightning bolts”, rightfully recognizing that they are the exact same kind of manipulative abdication to personal responsibility + shifting of the blame onto the injured party that’s a staple of the classic abuser’s playbook? Well, at the same time as he noted that, he was omitting to add that he himself had threatened Halcyon in an almost identical manner, telling his son that to disobey him would “anger the gods”.

And not only was Apollo omitting that, he was explicitly equating himself to Lu instead. Lu, who, yes, was a cog in the abusive machine that kept Meg trapped, but was so against her own wishes, because she really had no other choice, no better options. Lu, who only ever tried to help Meg survive. Who jumped at the chance to help set Meg free as soon as it was offered to her, even knowing that Meg’s freedom would likely come at the cost of her own life.

Remember how Apollo mentally tuned out Nero’s villain monologue right in the middle of the ‘Top 100 Times Apollo Has Failed As A Parent’ section, ensuring that we, the readers, would not risk learning about Halcyon even in this manner?

Because Apollo is the narrator of TOA. He’s the one who chooses what to let us know, and what information he wants to withhold from us.

Bearing this in mind, doesn’t the thought that he’d purposely choose to bury the Halcyon story fill you with rage? It sure has that effect on me! :))) (Yes, those are angry smiles in case you couldn’t tell.)

It’s painfully clear, right from the very beginning of THO, that Apollo’s not oblivious to the nature and mechanics of abuse. Especially abuse perpetrated by parents on their children. He knows exactly what that is and how it works. He calls it by name. He explains it to us and to Meg, repeatedly. He points fingers. At several people.

Never at himself.

Oh, he easily admits to being a “terrible father”. He expresses regret and apologizes for it multiple times. But the implication, all through the 5 books that make up the TOA series, is that he’s guilty of neglect, not of active abuse.

And we know, even though Apollo never even tries to defend himself, that the neglect is not really a free choice on his part. He DOES want to be there for his children. But he can’t. He’s not allowed to. The laws of non interference forbid it, and the consequences of disobeying Olympus’s laws… well the whole series is an example of how dire they can be.

‘Hey, if we don’t get out of this –’

‘None of that talk,’ I chided.

‘Yeah, but I wanted to tell you, I’m glad we had some time together. Like … time time.’

His words warmed me even more than Paul Blofis’s lasagne.

I knew what he meant. While I’d been Lester Papadopoulos, I hadn’t spent much time with Austin, or any of the people I’d stayed with, really, but it had been more than we’d ever spent together when I was a god. [...]

I was tempted to promise we’d do this more often if we survived, but I’d learned that promises are precious. If you’re not absolutely sure you can keep them, you should never make them [...].

So despite how much he wants to – and we know how much he wants to because he tells us, because by the end of the series he’s not hiding it anymore – Apollo can’t promise Austin that they’ll spend more time together, even if they both survive. The uncertainty has nothing to do with the fact that they are currently facing death. Apollo makes it crystal clear.

Right after his triumphant return on Olympus, where he’s welcomed with full honors, he still doesn’t dare state plainly his desire to go back to visit his children and all the mortals who have helped him along the way. “I’ll visit some old friends,” he says, fully knowing how that will be interpreted, and silently accepts Dionysus’ contribution in muddying the waters even further.

I don’t say this to absolve him. It’s right of Apollo to acknowledge that he’s failed his children. That he should have tried more, and harder, to be there for them anyway. That he must try more and harder NOW. And he does.

But none of the above addresses the Halcyon situation at all. The Halcyon situation is simply not the same.

The closest the TOA narrative ever gets to forcing Apollo to tackle a comparable sort of issue is when it introduces Trophonius, the only other son of Apollo whom we see harbor any kind of resentment toward his father… but even in Trophonius’ case, Apollo is guilty of inaction, not of taking active, violent action against his son.

Granted, there’s good reason to suspect that in Trophonius’s time the rules against divine intervention weren’t yet as strict as they are in the modern age, so Apollo does not have that excuse for his inaction there. And Apollo himself admits there was some sort of punitive intent on his part: he felt Trophonius “deserved to face the consequences” of his bad choices. But even considering all this… the Trophonius situation and the Halcyon situation are still light years apart in their substance.

Trophonius used the talent and the opportunities to make it shine that he’d gotten from his father (we can certainly add nepotism to the list of Apollo’s crimes) to fraud and rob his clients, and was left to deal on his own with the fallout of being discovered.

Halcyon was admonished by Apollo to never use the talent he’d inherited, and chose to disregard that admonition to save the life of a little girl. Something which by the way had zero negative consequences that we know of. For this, Apollo personally took it upon himself to actively punish him, by walling him up in his own house and cursing him to become the twisted instrument of death of countless innocent children for the rest of his days.

The two above things… are not the same.

One might even say the two above things stand in contradiction one with the other, but again that’s not the argument I’m making right now. My point is Apollo’s regret for refusing to help Trophonius and Agamethus can’t even begin to cover what Apollo did to Halcyon.

There is nothing in the whole of TOA that can be construed as even just�� a viable proxy to at the very least obliquely address the Halcyon story, and what it implies about Apollo as a god, as a person, and as a parent.

And no, Apollo’s memory problems aren’t a good enough excuse for sidestepping this reckoning, because

that only works if we assume the Halcyon story is a single isolated incident and not representative of a pattern of behavior on Apollo’s part… which brings us right back to the idea that it’s actually OOC for Apollo to have done what Halcyon says he’s done to him. And

at the end of the series Apollo gets all of his godly brain power back. And what happens then? He condemns one final, definitive time Zeus’s and Nero’s treatment of their children without even so much as hinting that he himself has been guilty of exactly the same behavior in the past. Not even the distant past, but a few decades ago at most!

Again I ask: doesn’t that fill you with rage? :))

And yet the narrative contract here explicitly requires us to buy into Apollo’s honesty of intentions. No, there is no guarantee that he will manage to keep his promises. There is no guarantee that from now on he will do everything right either. But we are supposed to at least believe that he WANTS to. At the end of the series, Apollo literally asks us to put our faith and trust in him.

But how can we do that in the face of him choosing to never come clean about the Halcyon thing?

We can’t.

So. Where am I going with this? Am I arguing that the novella should be expunged from canon after all?

No, as stated in the title, I am not. There is a very simple way to reconcile the Halcyon novella with the story that is told in TOA, the Apollo that we hear about in the Halcyon novella with the Apollo we got to know in the 5 books that star him as both protagonist and narrator. All we need to do is let ourselves consider the possibility that Halcyon's punishment… was not Apollo's choice.

Yes, Apollo was the one to enact it, there’s no doubt about that. But he wasn’t the one who came up with it. He wasn’t the one who wanted it.

And the clues are there.

All throughout the series, there is one character who is particularly fearful of prophecies. Who condemned Apollo to his own punishment at the end of HOO by citing as a reason that he'd been too quick to name a new Pythia who could speak the future into existence. Who could plausibly have taken issue with Halcyon’s one single act of interference specifically, because it might not look like it but Halcyon saving that little girl's life is the first domino falling in the long chain that will lead to Luke allying with Kronos, the second Titanomachy, and Olympus' stability being threatened thrice in less than a decade. The character whose personal symbols pop up in key moments of the story: the goat Amalthea, the aegis replica destined to Thalia, his own daughter.

“Prophecies,” Apollo tells Meg in THO, rather vehemently, “are the catalysts for every important event—every quest or battle, disaster or miracle, birth or death. Prophecies don’t simply foretell the future. They shape it! They allow the future to happen.”

Zeus takes this to mean that if he can just stop prophecies from being uttered he can prevent any problem from materializing.

Frank looked at Zeus. ‘Um, sir, Your Majesty, can’t you gods just pop over there with us? You’ve got the chariots and the magic powers and whatnot.’

‘Yes!’ Hazel said. ‘We defeated the giants together in two seconds. Let’s all go –’

‘No,’ Zeus said flatly.

‘No?’ Jason asked. ‘But, Father –’

Zeus’s eyes sparked with power, and Jason realized he’d pushed his dad as far as he could for today … and maybe for the next few centuries.

‘That’s the problem with prophecies,’ Zeus growled. ‘When Apollo allowed the Prophecy of Seven to be spoken, and when Hera took it upon herself to interpret the words, the Fates wove the future in such a way that it had only so many possible outcomes, so many solutions. You seven, the demigods, are destined to defeat Gaia. We, the gods, cannot.’

According to Zeus, prophecies constrain the future. They lock people into a predetermined course of action, a predetermined outcome. They take away people’s ability to choose.

There’s a whole debate to be had on whether Zeus is right or not to think so – and a whole other debate to be had on top of that one on whether Zeus truly believes this is the case or just chooses to delude himself that it is because doing so absolves him of responsibility – but for the moment what matters is that Apollo disagrees with him.

‘Zeus was already angry with me for appointing that new girl, Rachel Dare, as my Oracle. Zeus seems to think I hastened the war with Gaia by doing so, since Rachel issued the Prophecy of Seven as soon as I blessed her. But prophecy doesn’t work that way! [...]’

Apollo thinks of prophecy as a guide, not a prison. Ultimately, it’s still up to each individual to make their own choices:

“The only other person I’ve ever known to have this, er, firewood problem, back in the old days, was this prince named Meleager. His mom got the same kind of prophecy when he was a baby. But she never even told Meleager about the firewood. She just hid it and let him live his life. He grew up to be kind of a privileged, arrogant brat.”

Hazel held Frank’s hand with both of hers. “Frank could never be like that.”

“I know,” I said. “Anyway, Meleager ended up killing a bunch of his relatives. His mom was horrified. She went and found the piece of firewood and threw it in the fire. Boom. End of story.”

Hazel shuddered. “That’s horrible.”

“The point is, Frank’s family was honest with him. His grandmother told him the story of Juno’s visit. She let him carry his own lifeline. She didn’t try to protect him from the hard truth. That shaped who he is. [...] By burning his own tinder, he kind of…I don’t know, started a new fire with it. He’s in charge of his own destiny now. Well, as much as any of us are.

Apollo really believes in people’s right to make their own choices. He believes in people’s right to take responsibility for those choices too. But to be able to do that, people need to be informed.

“Die,” I repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Not disappear, not wouldn’t come back, not suffer defeat.”

“Nope. Die. Or more accurately, three letters, starts with D.”

“Not dad, then,” I suggested. “Or dog.”

One fine blond eyebrow crept above the rim of his glasses. “If you seek out the emperor, one of you will dog? No, Apollo, the word was die.”

“Still, that could mean many things. It could mean a trip to the Underworld. It could mean a death such as Leo suffered, where you pop right back to life. It could mean—”

“Now you’re being evasive,” [...] Jason’s stare was unrelenting. I suspected that in the weeks since his talk with Herophile, he had run every scenario. He was well past the bargaining stage in dealing with this prophecy. He had accepted that death meant death, the way Piper McLean had accepted that Oklahoma meant Oklahoma. I didn’t like that.

“Let’s assume you’re correct,” I said. “You didn’t tell Piper the truth because—?”

“You know what happened to her dad.” [...]

“Yes, but you can’t know how the prophecy will unfold.” [...]

Jason shrugged. “[...] I knew you’d be coming to find me. Herophile said so. If you’d just waited another week—”

“Then what?” I demanded. “You would’ve let us lead you cheerily off to your death? How would that have affected Piper’s peace of mind, once she found out?”

Jason’s ears reddened. It struck me just how young he was—no more than seventeen. [...] Despite all his experiences, was it fair of me to expect him to think logically, and consider everyone else’s feelings with perfect clarity, while pondering his own death?

I tried to soften my tone. “You don’t want Piper to die. I understand that. She wouldn’t want you to die. But avoiding prophecies never works. And keeping secrets from friends, especially deadly secrets…that really never works. It’ll be our job to face Caligula together, steal that homicidal maniac’s shoes, and get away without any five-letter words that start with D.”

The scar ticked at the corner of Jason’s mouth. “Donut?”

It’s hard to say for sure how big a part did Jason’s resignation play in sealing his fate. This is not the time for that discussion anyway, but I think it’s important to make note of the fact that Apollo really, really did not like it. That Jason’s resignation is in fact what scared Apollo the most.

I quoted the above passage almost in full because I think it exemplifies and summarizes better than almost anything Apollo’s views on prophecy.

Apollo thinks of prophecy as a beacon in the darkness. It spurs people into action. It lights up their way and pushes them forward, far from the safe stagnancy whose ultimate and truer expression is death (or immortality. But that too is a digression for another time). It doesn’t take away people’s choices: it gives them new ones.

It’s easy to forget, but Apollo is not just the god of prophecy; he is the god of knowledge and truth too. As much as he’s guilty of doing it himself, he does not actually believe in sticking your head in the sand.

"I warned you," a new voice said. [...]

"You dare come here?" Hades growled. "I should blast you to dust!"

"You cannot," the girl said. "The power of Delphi protects me." [...]

"You've killed the woman I loved!" Hades roared. "Your prophecy brought us to this.'" He loomed over the girl, but she didn't flinch.

"Zeus ordained the explosion to destroy the children," she said, "because you defied his will. I had nothing to do with it. And I did warn you to hide them sooner." [...]

"Perhaps I cannot bring back Maria. Nor can I bring you to an early death. But your soul is still mortal, and I can curse you."

All through the course of PJO, HOO and TOA we see Apollo’s oracle – his oracles plural, in fact: the Sibyl of Cumae and the Sibyl of Erythrae too in addition to the Pythia – share everything they know punctually and without fail. It’s their job to warn people about the future on Apollo’s behalf, despite the unwarranted backlash they get for it. Apollo himself is heavily implied to be the one who’s sending demigods their convenient prophetic dreams. And who else but Apollo could be the source of Octavian’s confidence that the Sibylline books had survived the fall of Rome, well before Percy, Hazel and Frank met Ella the harpy?

In TOA, we see Apollo share all that he learns as soon as he learns it, with each and every one of the people he can count on his side. Even when he thinks it will be detrimental, even when he fears their reaction. He still tells them.

The only times we see Apollo be anything less than forthcoming, it’s to cover up the fact that he legitimately does not have the answer. This became extremely clear in TOA, but Percy, who’s much more intuitive than a lot of people give him credit for, had figured it out already in TTC:

"But it's your Oracle," I protested. "Can't you tell us what the prophecy means?"

Apollo sighed. "You might as well ask an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem. It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear through the search."

"In other words, you don't know."

Apollo checked his watch. "Ah, look at the time! I have to run. [...]"

So, here’s the million dollar question: why would Apollo be opposed to Hal doing the same thing he himself always does? Sharing Knowledge? Giving a little girl a choice, a chance to save herself?

He wouldn’t. He is not the one who was against it. He is certainly not the one who wanted to see Hal punished for it.

This recontextualizes Halcyon’s words that “Apollo warned me to keep quiet,” because to speak about the future “would anger the gods.” This phrasing is not an indication of Apollo trying to shirk responsibility for the punishment he was threatening his son with. It’s the literal truth. Halcyon putting his powers to good use would anger the gods – not Apollo himself. Gods like Hades who cursed Apollo’s oracle for trying to warn him of imminent danger, or Zeus who stripped Apollo of his immortality for revealing a prophecy “prematurely”. Gods who should very much not be named lest they turn their attention to Apollo and his son.

In this light, I feel it’s pretty illuminating to look back on this line from THO, right out of Apollo’s own mouth:

How could I have been so foolish? Whenever I angered the other gods, those closest to me were struck down.

Of course, Zeus would have been perfectly capable of enacting the punishment himself, much like he'd done with Asclepius, but… with everything we know about Zeus’ parenting and ruling style after TOA… it’s not that hard to imagine he might have wanted to make a point here. It’s not hard to imagine that having to personally deliver the punishment to his own son might have been Apollo’s own punishment for his son’s transgression.

Remember how many times Apollo likens Zeus to Nero? Wouldn’t it make a scary amount of sense for this to be a “Cassius, I’m rewarding you by letting you cut Luguselwa's hands” move on Zeus’ part?

Apollo, in my generosity, I allow you to give your son the horrible news yourself.

And of course Apollo would have taken the offer. Of course he’d have accepted to take part in this sick game. What other choice did he have? Defying his father? Declaring war on the king of the gods? Should he have murdered some of Zeus’ favorite servants again? He’d done it for Asclepius, and still had not been able to win him a better deal than forever jail. Which, granted, would still have been a better deal than the one Halcyon got… provided that Apollo could achieve that kind of victory again.

Something else to consider: Halcyon almost certainly wasn’t Apollo’s only child at the time. And if Apollo had more children, then those children undoubtedly would have become more targets for Zeus’ anger, had their father dared provoke it any further.

Perhaps Apollo should have taken the risk. Perhaps Apollo chose wrong. But there was no path for him to choose that would not lead to the slaughter of innocents.

At least, this way, Apollo could see and speak to Hal one last time. This way, he could leave his son with a promise that his punishment would come to an end.

Because it’s obvious, from Halcyon’s account of his father’s words and actions, that Apollo had foreseen that Luke and Thalia would be the ones to break the curse, and that Hal would be able to escape his misery by dying to save the life of Zeus’ daughter, and therefore had taken care to set up the means for that potential future to be realized.

The book containing the recipe for greek fire, that Hal was strangely confident they would find on his bookshelves.

The safe containing the aegis replica, an item befitting Zeus’ progeny, that only a son of Hermes could successfully open, and that Hal remembers Apollo telling him “was sealed since before [Hal] was born”. Who could have done that, and why, if not Apollo so that Thalia could eventually take rightful ownership of it?

I’d dare suggest, even, that Apollo might have been the one who sent the goat, with the precise intention of luring Thalia and Luke into the trap, knowing that they would make it out thanks to Hal’s sacrifice, with a gift such to ensure that Thalia’s divine father would have no reason to object to the final outcome of Apollo's gamble, and every incentive to overlook how it had been orchestrated.

But of course Apollo would never tell his son “I had no choice” because WHEN DOES HE EVER. Five books and WE are the only souls he’s actually confessed being an abuse victim to, and even to us he’s given zero details. He never makes excuses for himself. He doesn’t think it matters that he could. He holds himself responsible anyway.

He believes that he must, because his father never does.

‘I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo.’

I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.

‘But you must understand,’ Zeus continued, ‘only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way… regrettable, but necessary [...].’

I had no choice, is Zeus’ constant refrain. I can’t help you, he tells the demigods. “You did not ask for this,” he tells Jason. “I did not want it.” And yet who could have forced the hand of the king of the gods?

He tells his son “I can’t praise you.” He tells him “I can’t give you credit.” He says “someone must take the blame.” He says “it’s the lightning bolt that hurt you.” He says “you must understand. It was necessary. I had no choice.”

So Apollo refuses to claim the words for himself, even if they are true.

It’s very noble, but also incredibly misguided. It’s the root of all the communication problems he has with his children. The reason why he can’t bring himself to answer Will, and Kayla, and Austin, when they try to tell him that they want him in their lives, not just once or twice, but always, every day. Even they, who know they are loved, have absolutely no idea how much.

“Maybe Apollo meant we’re going to rescue you,” Thalia said.

Hal typed a new sentence: Or maybe I die today.

“Thank you, Mr. Cheerful,” I said. “I thought you could tell the future. You don’t know what will happen?”

Hal typed: I can’t look. It’s too dangerous. You can see what happened to me last time I tried to use my powers.

“Sure,” I grumbled. “Don’t take the risk. You might mess up this nice life you’ve got here.”

I knew that was mean. But the old man’s cowardice annoyed me. He’d let the gods use him as a punching bag for too long. It was time he fought back, preferably before Thalia and I became the leucrotae’s next meal.

Hal lowered his head. His chest was shaking, and I realized he was crying silently.

When Luke and Thalia meet him at the beginning of the tale, Halcyon is resigned to his fate, and terrified that if he tries to fight it he'll be punished even worse, somehow. He's lost all faith in his father's judgment, and, if he ever had any, in his father's promise of freedom too. He's surrendered to utter despair. He resists Luke's demands that he do something, anything, to help both them and himself.

Then Luke manages to open the safe, and Hal begins to realize that… maybe… just maybe... there’s a possibility that his father had not lied to him.

Hal showed us the short novel he’d written: You’re the ones!! You actually got the treasure!! I can’t believe it!! That safe has been sealed since before I was born!! Apollo told me my curse would end when the owner of the treasure claimed it!! If you’re the owner—

He's still terrified. He struggles to let himself dare hope. But eventually he finds the courage to do the right thing once again: use his talent to save the life of these kids who don't deserve to die.

He reads Thalia's future.

And then he reads Luke's.

I could feel Hal’s pulse in my fingers—one, two, three.

His eyes flew open. He yanked his hands away and stared at me in terror.

“Okay,” I said. My tongue felt like sandpaper. “I’m guessing you didn’t see anything good.”

It’s in that moment, as he finds himself in the exact same position his father Apollo had once been, seeing the terrible tragedy in this child’s future that he knows, in spite of his best efforts, he won’t be able to avert… It’s in that moment that Hal finally understands.

Hal picked up his green leather diary. He gestured for me to follow him. We walked to the closet doorway, where Hal took a pen from his jacket and flipped through the book. I saw pages and pages of neat, cramped handwriting. Finally Hal found an empty page and scribbled something.

He handed the book to me.

The note read, Luke, I want you to take this diary. It has my predictions, my notes about the future, my thoughts about where I went wrong. I think it might help you.

I shook my head. “Hal, this is yours. Keep it.”

He took back the book and wrote, You have an important future. Your choices will change the world. You can learn from my mistakes, continue the diary. It might help you with your decisions.

“What decisions?” I asked. “What did you see that scared you so badly?”

His pen hovered over the page for a long time. I think I finally understand why I was cursed, he wrote. Apollo was right. Sometimes the future really is better left a mystery.

“Hal, your father was a jerk. You didn’t deserve—”

Hal tapped the page insistently.

We are not made privy to Hal’s thought processes in detail. Apollo was right, he writes, and he bristles when Luke tries to protest that notion. He taps the page insistently. What is he trying to communicate? Surely he can’t think that Apollo was right to warn him off of trying to use his gift to save people?

Especially because… Halcyon is at this very moment once again defying fate to try and save someone. He is at this very moment trying to save Luke from the terrible future he’s seen.

He knows he doesn’t know enough. He knows he can’t tell Luke what to do. Luke will have to make his own choices. But Hal can make sure those choices will be as informed as possible. Hal wants to give him a chance. He wants to give him hope, something to hang onto when he will be tried. He wants to give Luke what his father had given him.

Because Hal understands now. Not everything, of course, no. He, and Luke and Thalia too, are still missing the most important pieces of the puzzle. But, clearly, Hal understands enough. Enough to make peace in his heart with his father. Enough to trust that he will get the release his father had promised him in death. Enough to die with a prayer in honor of his father on his lips, quite literally dedicating his heroic sacrifice to him.

I heard Halcyon Green, shouting a battle cry: “For Apollo!”

We have no idea what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. We don’t know what the tone of Hal and Apollo’s last conversation was. Did Apollo allow his heartbreak to show on his face? Did he tell Hal how sorry he was?

Certainly, he would not have blamed Zeus, and he would not have tried to exculpate himself. Which is why Halcyon still ultimately thinks this was Apollo's decision.

And yet, something peculiar happens when Hal narrates his conversations with Apollo. "My father warned me," he says, "my father cursed me". But in between those we get "then the gods set the leucrotae to guard me". The gods. There’s that phrasing again. And it does make me wonder... is this how Apollo presented the whole thing to Hal? Are these Apollo’s own words?

I have to say, I really can see it. This is the will of the gods, Apollo would have said, and just... never specified but NOT MINE. Because he felt that he had no right to Hal’s understanding, let alone Hal’s forgiveness.

Did Hal pick up on that subconsciously anyway?

We don’t know what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. We know, because Hal tells us, that Hal had faithfully heeded his father’s warning, until the day he met that little girl, and found that his conscience would not allow him to let her die. We know that in the end Hal forgave his father. That Hal, in his last seconds of life, took comfort in his father’s name.

Why would Hal do such a 180 on Apollo in such a short amount of time? Just based on the realization that Apollo had indeed foreseen all this, and prepared accordingly? Because of what he’d seen when he looked into Luke’s future? It’s a hell of a leap from “Apollo can’t punish me any worse than he already has” to “Apollo was right”, and one that really there’s no way to make logical sense of… unless Hal had just been waiting for an excuse, any excuse, to reconcile himself with the memory of his father. Unless, all this time, Hal had wished nothing more than to be able to believe in his father again.

We don’t know what kind of relationship Hal and Apollo had once upon a time. But Hal’s change of heart, and his behavior leading up to his end, would seem to suggest rather a good one. Not too dissimilar, perhaps, from the one Apollo shares with his kids in the present.

Or perhaps Hal was just scared and desperate as he readied himself to die, and grasping for straws because straws were all he got. For all we know, that’s possible too.

But that is not how Hal appears to Luke in his last moments.

He met my eyes, and I finally understood what he was planning. “Don’t,” I said. “We can all make it out.” Hal pursed his lips. He wrote, We both know that’s impossible. I can communicate with the leucrotae. I am the logical choice for bait. You and Thalia wait in the closet. I’ll lure the monsters into the bathroom. I’ll buy you a few seconds to reach the exit panel before I set off the explosion. It’s the only way you’ll have time.

“No,” I said.

But his expression was grim and determined. He didn’t look like a cowardly old man anymore. He looked like a demigod, ready to go out fighting.

I couldn’t believe he was offering to sacrifice his life for two kids he’d just met, especially after he’d suffered for so many years. And yet, I didn’t need pen and paper to see what he was thinking. This was his chance at redemption. He would do one last heroic thing, and his curse would end today, just as Apollo had foreseen.

He scribbled something and handed me the diary. The last word read: Promise.

I took a deep breath, and closed the book. “Yeah. I promise.”

In his last moments, Hal is full of dignity and hope. He finally finds the courage to stand up tall and proud of himself again. I feel it would be doing Hal a disservice to assume that, in those last moments, his renewed faith in his father was grounded in delusion rather than truth.

What was he trying to communicate to Luke in their last exchange? What did he think Luke could learn from his diary? What is the promise that he asked Luke to make? We’ll never know. Luke chooses to not tell us.

Luke chooses to erase Hal’s last words to him from the narrative, and substitute his own.

I couldn’t shake my grief.

Promise, Halcyon Green had written.

I promise, Hal, I thought. I will learn from your mistakes. If the gods ever treat me that badly, I will fight back.

There’s a lot to be said about the way Halcyon and Luke influence each other in opposite directions. About the way Halcyon’s death and Luke’s death mirror each other. About the way Halcyon’s relationship with Apollo mirrors Luke’s relationship with Hermes. I know @tsarinatorment has excellent thoughts re: this, and not only this, that I hope she will share.

But for now this is already long enough, and so to bring us back to my original point… No, the Halcyon story, taken as it is, does not gel with TOA at all. But once you dig just a little deeper under the surface of it… I’d dare say it becomes impossible to rule it out of canon, because it fits too well within canon. It fills in the narrative blanks left by Apollo, who never tells us the details of Zeus’ abuse, and therefore… never tells us about Hal.

To tell us about Hal would require Apollo to admit that he had no choice. No good ones at least. It would require Apollo to admit that he’s not at fault.

But how can he not be at fault? He literally did do this. It was his words that cursed his son. His hands that delivered the instruments of torture.

So Apollo doesn’t talk about Halcyon. But when he calls himself a terrible father, when he berates himself for his failures as a parent, as a person, as a god, you bet he’s holding himself responsible for Halcyon too.

And in this light it’s interesting, I think, to note that despite how Apollo feels re: prophecy there are no known present day children of Apollo who possess the power to look into the future. There’s only Octavian, who is a legacy, and whose gift is implied to have been passed down his family line, and perhaps Georgina, who is in all likelihood a legacy too, possibly even descended from a different branch of Octavian’s family.

We know from Hephaestus that sometimes gods can choose to suppress the transmission of a specific ability to their children. Hephaestus did it with fire, and I don’t think it’s farfetched to imagine Apollo would have chosen to do it with prophecy after Halcyon. Again I know Tsari has given this far more thought than I have, so I pass the metaphorical mic to her.

Finally, I want to talk about how this whole novella is basically a concentrated allegory of TOA, featuring Halcyon as a stand-in for Apollo himself. Forever trapped in his childhood home full of monsters who have stolen and perverted his voice, and that he can never escape because they are inextricably tied to him, and him to them. Punished for the crime of having a functioning moral compass and having chosen to follow it, and after years of death & tragedy that are framed as a direct result of that choice... he has almost completely internalized the idea that he might actually have been in the wrong. He's surrendered. He’s not only accepted the slaughter but has even become complicit in it. He’s become a monster himself.

And then we get Thalia & Luke who are a stand in for all the people Apollo bonds with on his journey, who give him hope again, who reaffirm his conviction that there IS, there HAS TO BE a better way, and reignite his will to fight. After all, he realizes, what does he have left to lose?

I turned my face to the sky. “If you want to punish me, Father, be my guest, but have the courage to hurt me directly, not my mortal companion. BE A MAN!”

To me this novella absolutely reads like a first outline of the TOA series that Rick might have later decided to flesh out and expand upon. The core themes, the central ideas are all in there.

But Halcyon can only find redemption through death. The narrative denies him the chance to survive and do better. He’s only a man, and for him the odds are impossible. He dies thinking that on some level he deserves it – he brought this on himself. He dies still thinking that maybe he was wrong to save that little girl's life.

I wonder if in the first draft of TOA Apollo was meant to die at the end like Halcyon did. In a way he did die, in fact. But he’s a god, and for a god no odds are impossible. So Apollo is reborn through the power that he finally allowed himself to reclaim, because he finally has learned to believe that he was right to want to use it. He was right to want to help people. He was right. He learns the lesson that Halcyon never could. He is afforded the opportunity to keep trying.

#rrverse #trials of apollo #toa #toa meta #halcyon green #the diary of luke castellan

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nobodywritingao3 · 3 months

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i feel kind of sick making this post so please excuse me if i sound like a rambling mess. i am not the type of person to talk in detail about my life in online places cuz i live in fear of this getting back to my abuser but shubble's story punched all my most sensitive spots and i want to talk about it

(really long sensitive post)

ive gotten kind messages from people that i havent responded to. the idea of responding to people individually kind of makes me feel sick. so im doing this instead. and im also going to vent really hard because i am not doing well and talking about this to my therapist is soul crushingly embarrassing because wilbur soot is a minecraft man and im a freshly turned 20 year old who pays rent and is respected by my therapist and i dont want to admit that i wrote fanfic about a 30 year old white boy i discovered in quarantine when i was 15. can you imagine that conversation? id have to explain what the dream smp is.

when i watched shubble's video for the first time, i was in total disbelief. i couldnt believe that wilbur soot had done these things but i knew that the liklihood of it being anyone else was pretty low. i chose to hope that the story was not about him, and that if it was that he was a reformed abuser who had reorganized his value system and respected his partners now. i had a lot expectations. then he released his statement and i was horrified. i was disappointed and kind of in denial. his statement was worse than anything i had prepared for as 'worst case scenario.' as time has passed my denial has mostly dulled but im ashamed and im embarassed and im badly triggered.

i kind of hysertically hoped that it was a sick prank that shubble and wilbur cooked up and would get horribly cancelled for, but its not a prank, theres no "haha sike" moment, and wilbur abused shelby.

his response undid me because i saw so much of my own abuse in the words he used.

abusers are really good at making people take a centrist "two sides to every story" stance. i dont know how to describe this to people who have never been abused, but i will do my best

most people are taught that when theres an argument between two people, both parties carry some amount of blame and if you want to resolve that issue, it's a good idea to look at your part in the dynamic. we're also taught to keep our disagreements between ourselves and to not involve other people in our drama.

these are sensible sentiments, but abusers are very good at manipulating these sentiments.

when a victim speaks up for themselves and they call someone an abuser, what they are saying is: "this person cruelly bullied me and hurt me and exerted control over me that i did not deserve or ask for or elicit."

that's a heavy accusation and it contradicts sentiments we are taught like "it takes two to tango" and "dont involve others with your relationship drama."

many abusers are charismatic people. id even say most. when you hear this accusation about someone you think is really cool, your natural instinct is to ask for their side of the story.

they will tell you some version of this:

"i am shocked and hurt that she would call me an abuser. we've been having relationship problems recently, and sometimes i lose my temper. im not proud of that. ive done a lot of things im not proud of. it's true that i did [insert played down act of violence] to her, but you wouldnt believe the horrible things she was saying to me. i lost control, and im so ashamed of myself."

this version of events makes the abuser seem reasonable, it makes the victim seem irrational and quick to blame and hysterical

from here, a lot of people will nod thoughtfully and go. "yeah. yeah. that makes sense. everyone has a unique perspective. the fact that shes attributing all the blame to him without recognizing her own flaws and contributions to the relationship while he does shows that hes the reasonable one here. hes such a chill guy. the things shes saying dont make sense at all. i probably wont say it to her face, but i think shes in the wrong."

wilbur's response hit all the beats im familiar with. it was so in line with everything my abuser used against me, and in line with what ive heard other victims say their abusers used against them, and in line with examples ive read and witnessed and had countless psychiatrists walk me through that reading it was like getting hit by a train.

the hope that i carried with me through that week was that wilbur was a reformed abuser. but reading that response gave me the gut wrenching confirmation that he wasnt.

thinking about it too much literally makes me sick and shaky in a way i havent experienced since my own abuser tracked me down the first time and gave me a beautifully wrapped gift. with my abuser, i had several years trapped with him where all the love i felt for him disappeared and was replaced by total hatred for everything he put me through. i wasnt expecting this from wilbur at all, and i feel fucking sick because this was a man i sincerely admired and looked up to a lot. i really liked wilbur soot. he released that response and this image in my head that i had of him was tainted by the memories of my abuser.

im reminded of one event several years ago where i was choked. i tried to ask for help but everyone who knew immediately reached out to him and asked for "his side of the story." i dont want to talk about what he did to me after that. all that matters is that in the end, no one believed me. everyone took his side over mine and insisted that i was lying or exaggerating or trying to get attention or trying to make him look bad. people who i loved and thought would always be there for me sent me paragraph long text messages calling me a bitch and a cunt. the person i loved the most in the world told me that i was out of line and said point blank that they were sorry, but couldnt believe me over the person who choked me. i had never felt so alone.

ive been having a rough time. i confided in a friend who is trying to escape his abusive husband, and he gently told me that this might mean i have "a type," meaning im naturally drawn to people who are abusive. after i escaped, i took a lot of solace in the fact that i was inspired so much by wilbur soot. i thought he was progressive and stood up for womens rights and was anti bigotry and all those lovely good things. this man i admired so much was the image of healthy, nonviolent, kind masculinity. finding out he isnt has made me question myself and my own judgment and it's making me wonder if the people i let in my life and the people im drawn to are people who i subconsciously know will hurt me.

as of now, its been a year and a half since i escaped my abusive family at 18 years old. i turned 20 like half a second ago. the past 18 months of my life have been devoted to looking into legal protection, getting therapy to undo nearly 2 decades worth of ptsd, trying to keep all my baggage to myself because i dont want to burden my friends anymore than i have, and holding down a steady job so that i can afford rent without having to rely on the parents of my friends to house and feed me and keep my location secret from an insane group of people who reeeeally want me to come back even tho im pretty sure one of them might """""accidentally"""" kill me one day

i feel ashamed and embarrassed by being this affected by wilbur soot. parasocial relationships are looked down upon and i feel like the perfect stereotype of a hysterical, delusional teenager / young lady finding out that her hero is "a flawed human being, just like you and me - seriously, what did you expect?!"

i already see people jumping to his defense, although i try to look away because that is also extremely triggering for me.

it is hard not to acknowledge wilbur's humanity, and i want to clarify that i do feel compassion for the amount of death threats, doxing, and isolation he is undoubtedly experiencing right now. no matter what you do, i dont believe that retributive justice or revenge is a proactive, sane response. i am sincerely worried that he will either try to kill himself as a last ditch attempt for sympathy OR that he will actually just kill himself from the public shaming. i do not want him to experience a mental health crisis and i do not want him to die, even tho he has horribly disappointed me and reminded me of so many bad things

this was kind of an insane post. im ready for it to get 1 note and then experience a horrifying amount of embarrassment as i realize that people read this and know disgusting amounts about me as a person, but i want to share my experience as someone who has been abused. i want to offer solace to people who are in the same boat and possibly reach someone who might have otherwise believed wilbur was telling the truth.

i want to end this post on a positive note, so im going to share some naive hope ive been repeating to myself for the past few days

i hope that people believe shubble. i hope she finds comfort and compassion and healing. i hope she can internalize that what happened to her was not her fault. i hope she lives a happy life surrounded by people who see her and care about her

i hope that the people close to wilbur make him confront this side of himself. i hope he fixes his abuse problem and reorganizes his values. i hope his network of people is strong enough not to abandon him entirely but to intervene and make him work on himself. i hope he stays alive and i hope that he becomes an advocate for abused women

this was cheesy and unrealistic but ive been sending my hope into the universe and trying not to shut down because i dont know what else to do and my two hours of government issued weekly ptsd therapy is already devoted to the horrible things i experienced firsthand

anyway

as far as my fanfiction goes???? i dont fucking know.

im not going to delete it. im definitely taking a break and at least stepping into a pause so i can properly reflect on what to do in the meantime. as a musician and writer and creative in general, i was inspired by many aspects of wilbur soot for years and i need a second to chill out and get a hold of myself

maybe ill complete my work. if i do ill upload the finished products in one go and probably orphan them. and maybe delete my ao3 account. god knows at this point

i am still cringing so hard at myself for making this post. it's very emotional and i try to sell myself as serious, intellectual person. maybe this post will be received great or badly or just be ignored. in any case ill be embarrassed so it doesnt really matter how anyone feels about me after this. if you took the time to read, thank you for hearing me out. and if you didnt, im glad that i got a little catharsis

#wilbur soot #im embarassed of myself #whatever #wilbur situation #shubble supprt #cw domestic violence #i feel sick after typing this #this was basically a diary entry #tldr wilbur soot reminds me of my own experience of abuse and i think i wanna throw up #cw abuse #oh god goodnight everyone #i have read peoples compassionate messages to me and im very thankful for them #it has been very sweet and helpful cuz this isnt smth i share to my offline friends so i havent gotten my usual support and affection #thank you to people who are being nice to me

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the-healing-mindset · 1 year

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After 23 years, I have finally been able to end the abusive relationship between myself and my family. The ONLY thing that was able to remove me from the relationship was a physical change in location. This move has taken me 500 miles away from my family of origin where I can live, work, and heal in peace. Sure, to support myself and to catch up financially I will have to work two jobs, but that is leagues better than staying in an abusive environment where I was continuously being manipulated and used for all that I had and was never supported by those who were meant to support me through my early life.

One thing I have never mentioned here on the blog is that I have an abusive dad. It has taken me quite some time to come to terms with that fact, but it's the truth. It also took me a lot longer to recognize it not only because of his lies and manipulation but also because of the way he has convinced everyone who knows us that he is supportive of me and the rest of my family when the only thing he has ever done is siphon away our stability - mentally, financially, and socially. This move allows me to cut him off, something I would not have been able to do had I stayed home.

Going back to the financial stuff, I had been a source of financial enabling to my dad since the age of six. Back then I got an allowance every two weeks of $10. I would save my money for things that I may have wanted to buy at the store or at school at a later date depending on what was going on. I always noticed back then that every time I spent my money, my dad would get extremely livid with me. "SAVE YOUR MONEY FOR STUFF THAT REALLY MATTERS!" He would always be sure to do this around people so that they would be in on the conversation. Of course, they would always comment that he was "teaching me to be financially responsible," but that was never the case. The only reason he ever wanted me to save my money at all was so that he would always have access to it when he wanted. Exploitation.

My dad would always come and ask me for the money that I had saved up as a child, something that it took me years to try to comprehend. I never understood why I was always going without the things I wanted. I did extra chores around the house, did good in school, and tried to be a good child back then only to get less and less in return. Each time he took the money from me, I would see less and less of him.

"Oh you have such a good father, he does so much for you and your family." I would always have to put up with hearing this from acquaintances of the family. Every time we ran into one of them in public, it was the same story. "Oh, your father is such a good man." Over the years, I became deluded by all the different stories I was hearing compared to what I was experiencing - nothing short of outright financial, mental, and emotional abuse.

As I transitioned to my teenage years, I naturally got a job to support myself and the things I wanted in life. I finally had a bit of confidence in my financial ability because I had some money saved up in the bank. What factor didn't change, however? My financially greedy and abusive dad. By this time, things had escalated. At the age of 18, I found myself at the bank - my bank - getting a loan against my own money to give to my dad on a promise that it would be paid back. There had been about a 10-year gap from the end of the initial "loans", so I had honestly forgotten about how I never was paid back in the past, even though I had been promised just that.

I was stuck paying back that loan completely and totally on my own. This came during a time just as I had entered college and had begun paying for my degree on my own, an endeavor that saw me raise $38,000 on my own to cut down on loans. All this and not a single bit of help from either one of my parents. Mom couldn't help because she was under dad's thumb, though she doesn't see it that way. That's the way it has always been. All in all, I ended up paying for my $178,000 degree all on my own merits. Scholarships and working jobs really helped out with a lot of that. Oh yeah, and all of the loans that I have are in my name which thankfully total less than $50,000. Even though I graduated, I still can't believe that I was able to achieve all of this.

Of course, all of this is extremely deeply personal, but I share this story to remind myself of what I have been through. Additionally, I share this story just as another example of the ways in which we can be abused, manipulated, neglected, and taken advantage of but not be aware of it because of what other people say, or because of how long those things have been going on.

Today is a new start for me. I am in the real world now. Sure, life is difficult, but leading a difficult life is so much better than being continuously lied to and taken advantage of and then being told that what is going on isn't really happening.

#personal #manipulation #personal story #“rant”#mine #financial abuse #leaving #leaving home #growing up #reality #facing the truth #truth #moving on #change

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scintillatingshortgirl19 · 1 year

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Do you have any thoughts on why Sally & Barry fail at that imitation to Gene/Fuches? @_@ good post

Oh man, that's a great question.

This honestly isn't something I've pondered before, so this was fun to think about! I feel like it has a lot to do with the people on the receiving end of their attempts.

In Sally's case, a core difference to keep in mind between her situation and Gene's is that Gene had his class in the palm of his hand. He'd made it his own personal shrine where people worshipped him and they wouldn't dare call out his behavior, if they even recognized it as bad at all. If somebody had gotten upset and left the class, no one would have followed them - instead, they would've been treated as a weakling and everyone would've taken Gene's side.

But Sally was brand new, and although she felt emboldened by the class being sympathetic to her, she hadn't actually built up any kind of relationships, respect, or trust with these people. It was way too soon to pull out an abusive tactic - it's much easier for people to call out bad behavior when the person is a stranger.

With Barry, it mostly had to do with the fact that Hank decided to stand up to him. Unbeknownst to Barry, Hank had been having some character growth. Barry massively underestimated Hank in that moment. Barry was in prison and had no allies to break him out - he was clearly all bark and no bite, and Hank knew it. So actually in that way Barry's imitation was pretty true to Fuches. Fuches tells ridiculous lies and makes empty threats and resorts to angry outbursts when he doesn't get what he wants, too. But it failed in that it ultimately just didn't work, because Hank ended up being a lot harder to manipulate than Barry gave him credit for.

Another difference is that Gene and Fuches have both been doing what they do for a long time. There's an inherent confidence in both of them that Barry and Sally just don't have at this point. I don't think Barry has Fuches' level of cunning, and Sally doesn't have Gene's level of experience (or the benefit of being a man, though it's entirely possible the class still would've called her out for the abusive tactic regardless of gender).

I will also say that, while Sally was definitely consciously trying to imitate Gene, I don't think it was something Barry was doing on the same conscious level.

Like, for Sally it was "my acting teacher did a specific Thing to me and I am now going to try the exact same Thing on someone else." Whereas with Barry I think it was more subconscious? Not so much literally trying to copy Fuches as just doing what Fuches did to him because he doesn't know any other way of going after what he wants. He doesn't know how else to solve problems - all he knows is what he's been taught. I think he might actually be offended if someone were to point out how much he sounded like Fuches in that moment - sort of the "guy who hates his dad doesn't want to recognize that he's starting to turn into his dad" type thing.

#barry hbo #barry berkman #sally reed #gene cousineau #monroe fuches #thank you for the ask anon!#if anybody else has insights i would love to hear them!#barry meta #asks

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acacia-may · 1 year

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Could I ask for two?

Jellal x Erza, then Gajeel x Levy for the bingo game? 👀🙏💖

Of course, Erika! Thank you so much for the ask! I like the enemies-to-lovers theme going on here. 😁 To tell you the absolute truth, these are definitely my top ships in Fairy Tail (A/N: with Elfman x Evergreen rounding out the top 3--I'm not sure the exact order), so it's a little funny to me that they came in on the same ask. I love that it worked out that way! 💖 This post got so long that I'm actually going to split your ask (if that's okay?) and will tag you in the second one as soon as it's finished. The Bingo card for Jerza is below, and my thoughts, songs, and a few headcanons are below the cut!

Part of the Relationship Bingo Ask Game!

Jellal Fernandes x Erza Scarlet

A Bingo!! Yay!! They deserve it! 🥰

Jerza

Thoughts:

Gosh I'm not sure I even know where to begin with this one. This ship had everything in the absolute best possible way: childhood friends to enemies to friends to lovers. Childhood friends to lovers is one of my favorite ship tropes so I appreciated that part of their backstory--those flashbacks made it so abundantly clear why Tiny Erza was so fond of Tiny Jellal and wanted to believe that there was still good in him despite the fact that he was a villain when we first meet him in the canon. [A/N: Jella's overall culpability for his inexcusable actions is another discussion that I'm not going to go into here but seeing as he (1) was brainwashed, abused, and manipulated, (2) feels genuine remorse and guilt for what he did, and (3) is actively trying to atone, make amends, and heal the hurts and wrongs he caused, I'm much more inclined to forgive him]. Even though it was clear early on that they did have this history and there was definitely some chemistry there, I liked that their relationship actually got the chance to be the slow burn that was warranted by their situation. They didn't rush into a relationship or jump into a confession immediately after Jellal started his redemption arc journey, and, in fact, because he is so ashamed of and remorseful for the way he treated her, Jellal actually refuses to pursue a relationship. He has so much respect for Erza and truly believes she deserves better than him. His redemption arc isn't cheapened by questions like 'oh, is he only bettering himself so he can be with her?' She is inspiring him to be better, but he is taking these steps to better himself because he wants to not because he wants something from her (i.e. her love or a relationship). Jellal truly wants to be the best version of himself, the man that Erza believes he can be, regardless of whether or not he ever gets to be with her, and I think there is something very beautiful and selfless about that.

On Erza's side, when Jellal has this redemption and the time comes that she wants that relationship with him, there is something so admirable about her love for him and her loyalty because she doesn't idealize Jellal. She sees that he is flawed, recognizes his mistakes, and doesn't make excuses for what he has done. She doesn't dismiss it or forget, but she chooses to forgive and chooses to love him anyway. There really is such a freedom in that because this love is her choice. She is freely choosing to love Jellal, not an idealized, fantasy version of him. She knows, possibly better than anyone, that Jellal is a broken and flawed man, but she also chooses to see the good in him and chooses to love him for who he really is. If the crux of Jellal's argument for why they can't be together is that he isn't good enough for her, the crux of Erza's argument for why they should pursue this relationship is essentially "I know you've made mistakes, but you are not the sum of your mistakes, so I choose to love you anyway."

They're both been through so much and deserve the world. If they really love each other (which I believe they do) and want to be together, then I support them in that 100%.

[And don't even get me started about Edo!Jerza... My goodness! I love them so much that I'm not even sure I have the words to express it. My very first Fairy Tail fanfiction ever was actually about Mystwalker even though I don't usually write romance, but gosh...yeah...I just I love them! However, I kind of consider that a separate thing so I won't go into that here.]

Some Headcanons:

Erza and Jellal both prefer lowkey dates their favourite being having picnics. They'll pack a picnic lunch or dinner and sit and talk for hours at the beach or in a woodland clearing. In the far future when they marry and have children, it becomes a regular family activity.

Jellal says the words "I love you" first, but Erza says them more often.

They take things very slowly in their relationship and date for a long time before getting engaged even though they both know very early on in their relationship that they want to spend the rest of their lives together.

Their wedding was small and not very extravagant, but it was a very joyful occasion shared with their friends/found family which is exactly how they wanted it. Jellal tears up when he sees Erza walking down the aisle.

Jellal has a lot of fears and reservations about becoming parents, and Erza is a little nervous about the idea herself but reassures Jellal that the most important thing is that they will love their children. In the end they make a wonderful mother and father to four children: two of whom are their biological kids and two of whom are adopted but they never make that distinction. Their kids are their kids, and they love them very much.

A Song That Reminds Me of Them:

There are several songs that remind me of Jerza, but one of my favourites is "Find My Way Back" by Eric Arjes for them. I think it really speaks to their journey and how after everything they've been through they ultimately find their way back to each other again. While I think this definitely works in a literal sense, it is also fitting in the more figurative sense of Jellal kind of losing his way and losing himself. Erza never gave up hope that Jellal would eventually find himself and find his way back to her, and, in turn, as part of his redemption arc, Jellal really vowed to once again become the good man that Erza believed he could be. The lines "Even if you slip away, I'll be there to fall into the dark to chase your heart" really remind me of Erza, and a lot of the second verse (i.e. "On my way now, don't give up on me" and "These weary eyes will never rest until they look in yours again") remind me of Jellal. Ultimately, I think the end of the chorus is really fitting for both of them:

No distance could ever tear us apart There's nothing that I wouldn't do I'll find my way back to you

Find My Way Back - YouTube

#jerza #jellal x erza #erza x jellal #fairy tail jerza #jerza headcanons #i love them so much your honor #erza scarlet #jellal fernandes #fairy tail headcanons #ship bingo #ship bingo headcanons #thanks for the ask!#erika 💙#part one of two

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hellsbellschime · 2 years

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there's this huge thread on twitter about AH / JD because apparently some JD stan paid 3k for court records and it has all the shit JD tried to cover up: twitter(.)com/cocainecross/status/1553506807766663169 - genuinely shocked they posted it since it paints him in a bad light. and of course there's a counter thread in the comments, but it's just a dude crying about how it's ok for men to have ED and that JD and marilyn manson are victims like f all the way off

Oh yeah I saw some of this whole shitshow and it's hilarious, I mean anyone could have accessed those records but the fact that it was his most ardent stans who bought the information immediately and released it immediately when it proves that he is a legitimately terrible and abusive person, that AH didn't defame him, AND that he's the one who tanked his own career is hysterical. I mean even if you look at solely his evidence, it completely destroys his entire case and shows what a nightmarish dickhead he really is.

I didn't need to see this shit to believe that he was an abusive rapist and frankly anyone who is making John Depp their hill to die on at this point probably won't care/will spin it all into something else, but it's fantastic that he has been directly outed for shit like falsifying evidence, coercing witnesses, and literally DIRECTLY STATING IN A DEPOSITION THAT AMBER DID NOT ABUSE HIM IN ANY "SPECIFIC" WAY.

I know it is difficult to realize that you've been had, but I hope that a lot of the people who were uninformed and on his side will recognize that the "evidence" that they used as justification to support him is now literally provably fake and is almost entirely contradicted by the evidence he himself submitted to court and in many cases is contradicted by what he literally said in their depositions before court. Not to mention, his statements alone seem to demonstrate that he literally defamed her by publicizing and stating a bunch of shit that he himself doesn't believe to be true, which would almost be funny if it weren't beyond fucked up.

And, putting aside the fact that these documents literally prove that everything John Depp alleged in court are things that he does not actually believe himself, I'm not holding my breath, but fingers crossed that reasonable people will understand what a garbage man he is. Or at least ERW and all of the other women that Manson abused might be helped by the revelation of the absolutely disgusting conversations between JD and MM.

Again, I didn't need these documents to prove it because his earlier released texts were enough, but one thing that really strikes me is that this info dump both shows that JD is a liar and that he's just a legitimately terrible person. He's a manipulative, racist, sexist, lying, abusive, exploitative person, and those are all provable, demonstrable things OUTSIDE of Amber Heard. Like, you can remove everything that Amber Heard has ever accused him of and you can remove everything he seems to have done in their relationship, and he is still all of these things.

Ugh, I know I'm ranting but it's just so frustrating because these documents are further proof that JD is simply an abusive person in general, and the entire world eviscerated AH on his word when, at least according to his own depositions and documents, the absolute WORST thing they could say about her is that she may have been a stripper when she was a teenager. And when they couldn't dig up more dirt on her, they literally doctored it and made it up, and again, on that basis alone, the entire world ripped her apart. I'm glad that the truth is coming out and it's beyond iconic that it's the JD stans who are unveiling it, but it is beyond disgusting that any of this even happened in the first place.

#anti johnny depp #amber heard #i stand with amber heard

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sugoi-and-spice · 1 year

Text

Chapter Sixteen - Relapse

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad's boss's son. He was the creep that stole girls' underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it's not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn't sleep with him, right? ...right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death

A/N: You didn't think these crazy kids were finally well-adjusted did you? Don't worry, there's plenty of drama and spiciness to come. ¬‿¬

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

“Hey everyone!” Mirio announced, “Buffet’s ready! Go ahead and line up!”

She hazarded a look back to Shigaraki’s booth as she made her way over to the buffet line. He and Miko hadn’t moved an inch at the lunch announcement, too preoccupied with clearly flirtatious conversation. They were both smiling, Miko with that coy little pout she’d seen win over boys at least a thousand times and Shigaraki with an even more familiar cocky spread. The type of grin she’d seen him wear only when he was truly amused.

And when she thought about it, one that she’d only seen him wear when he was with her .

The realization struck an ache through her chest that she thought she’d finally gotten rid of today. The longer she watched the scene, the more it hurt. And yet she couldn’t look away. It was like a part of her was desperately hoping that this was just some long comedy sketch, she just needed to wait for the punchline.

Miko giggled at something Shigaraki said, then looked away with a blush. He said something else that had her squealing and smacking playfully at his forearm resting on the table. He said her name — her first name, she could clearly read “Miko” on his lips. She turned back to him, and he wagged his pointer finger in a come-hither gesture. She leaned in, but he encouraged her even closer, until he could easily press his nose into the perfect waves of her hair, to whisper something. And devastatingly, it still wasn’t getting funny.

This was becoming a car crash in front of her instead, becoming more unbearable to watch as bodies were pulled from the wreckage. She had to finally look away, she was going to be sick if she didn’t.

She moved on autopilot down the buffet line, just dropping a couple of spoonfuls of whatever was in front of her onto her plate, barely bothering to look at what it was. She wasn’t even sure that she’d be able to recognize anything if she took a moment to read the little menu cards. The critical thinking part of her brain was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what was wrong with her at that moment to actually comprehend language. It’d all read like Latin to her, and she’d just be standing there, reading “Mapo Tofu” over and over and over again until somebody asked her if she was okay. And then she’d have to answer, to lie .

Because she was not okay.

And the worst part was that she didn’t even know why.

Not in a “what could these feelings possibly mean” (aka, denial) type of way, but in the fact that there were so many conflicting and confusing feelings and events swirling around her world right now, and she hadn’t had the chance to process a single one of them today. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong.

It was all wrong.

From coming to terms with the fact that Shigaraki wasn’t going to be in her life anymore and realizing that she had been mourning that fact, to him showing up unannounced at the meet and offering not only an olive branch, but a friendship — realizing that she was happy about that. That she was happy to see him today and was looking to him for reassurance and support. That she didn’t know what to expect when he and Mirio came head to head, that it went completely in the opposite direction than she was expecting. That it still hadn’t gone well. That he was acting different, and then exactly the same. Nice, then mean; trying, not trying, the Miko of it all — God, and that fucking dream.

“You’re nervous.”

She jumped at that extra familiar rasp suddenly behind her, spilling just about half of her food onto the ground.

“Shit,” she cursed, trying to find a free spot on the buffet table to put her plate. A staff member was quick to wave her away and clean up before she could offer to help.

“And clumsy too,” Shigaraki chuckled, “That’s not like you.”

She flushed as he continued to echo her dream, “S-Stop that.”

He cocked a brow at her, “Stop what?”

“...Nevermind,” her blush deepened as she realized that she couldn’t exactly explain it, “What are you doing here?”

“Well, typically when someone is invited to lunch, they plan on eating,” he said, presenting his own full plate of food.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Where’s Miko?” she finally blurted.

He tilted his head, and she genuinely couldn’t tell if he was playing dumb or if he actually didn’t care enough to remember, “Who?”

“My teammate,” she reminded, “The one you were just sitting with?”

“ Ohhhh ,” he “realized” and nodded back towards the entrance, where Miko now stood, tear-stained and arguing with a couple of the girls in her grade. It looked like they were trying to comfort her and convince her to stay. They were ultimately unsuccessful though, and she shoved past them angrily out the door as fresh tears started to spill.

“What happened?” she asked, turning back to Shigaraki.

“She was annoying me. So I told her to fuck off.”

Her lips twitched as a little wave of joy fluttered unexpectedly in her chest. She immediately tried to force it down.

“But… It seemed like you two were getting on…”

His eyes narrowed, “Is that what you wanted? For us to ‘ get on’ ?”

She couldn’t answer that honestly. Not just because it would open up a whole new can of worms for them, but also because she straight-up just didn’t know how to.

“I mean,” she looked away, uncomfortably, “I don’t really have an opinion…”

Shigaraki smirked, “Then I guess you wouldn’t really care what happened, would you?”

Her brows furrowed. He was goading her. And it was working. Her nerves and butterflies made way for a steadily rising irritation that was so typical of her interactions with this man.

“Were you nice about it at least?”

“No,” he answered, proud and honest.

“Shigaraki .”

“You just said that you didn’t care.”

“I don’t care if you want to date her or not,” she lectured, “I do care if you go out of your way to be an ass to my friends.”

“Of course, how could I possibly forget?” he rolled his eyes, “Fine. You want me to be nice?”

She squeaked as he hooked an arm around her waist, “Let’s be nice.”

Continue on AO3

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ficthisficthat · 2 years

Text

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

His body is burning from the inside out and his skin is clammy, making his clothes stick uncomfortably to his skin. His throat is sore from screaming.

The pain seems to last forever then transition to a different kind of pain.

Shen Qingqiu sputters.

His eyes are watery, his nose feels burning, his throat raw. He coughs. He digs his nails into the sheets, into his skin, ripping, clawing, desperate for this feeling to end.

A calloused hand suddenly stills his hand.

He pulls from the grip. “Unhand me zhangmen-shixiong.”

“Zhangmen-shixiong? That is awfully formal of you.” She lets go.

Shen Qingqiu freezes at the unfamiliar voice. It is lilting with an accent he does not know. His vision is blurry and he is still in pain.

“Who are you?” his voice shakes.

“You don’t recognize me?” She is amused, the question punctuated with a light laugh. “He really didn’t trust you, did he?”

He grits his teeth. Shen Qingqiu hates this – his weakness of the limbs and being at a disadvantage, especially to some unknown who apparently has information over him. A hand brushes some hair away from his forehead and he flinches.

“Ah, it’s been a while since there has been someone who was granted the honor of the Lazarus Pit. Bear with me.”

He sees the white blur come slowly as it gently rubs at face. His vision clears. The woman has a regal bearing with dark skin, green eyes, an aquiline nose, and full lips. Her robes are pink with white details.

The clearer vision does not help. The woman must be able to read the confusion in his face because she tells him, “I am Talia al Ghul. Do you remember who you are?”

“I’m…” He squeezes his eyes shut at the sharp sudden pain in his head. His hand grasps at his face, covering his mouth. He swallows the bile that burns his throat.

He is Shen Qingqiu, the despicable scum shizun to the reigning Junshang accused of being a lecher, of needlessly abusing disciples, of unjustly killing his martial brother. He who had gotten his eye removed, his tongue cut, and an arm and a leg ripped out in recompense. He – he had committed suicide by swallowing the shards of Xuan Su. But he is also Jason Todd, a guardian of Gotham and failure of Bruce Wayne. He was lured with the promise of his mother, beaten with an inch of his life then used his body to shield the woman who sold him out. They – they still have memories as Shen Qingqiu but they also have memories as Jason Todd. What a headache.

Talia al Ghul has no connection or reason to use The Pit for them. They hate to admit it, but they mean nothing to Bruce, only a piece to replace his true disciple, Dick Grayson.

“Why?”

“A favor for my beloved.”

There are too many unknowns.

It is Qi-ge all over again. He’s not stupid. He knows she’s manipulating him. But these are the facts he has to work with.

#original #dc comics #cheap trix #svsss #shen jiu

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incarnateirony · 5 months

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God. What a definitionally crazy cunt. Stalks an ex for three years on their blog. Tries to intentionally invade friend groups that they had formerly blocked and abused and pretended to be interested in just to worm in to try to access closer friends to disrupt. Deadass invests HALF A YEAR OF HER TIME on this. Deadass ignores me telling her to her face back then that everyone was aware of her shit and she was choosing to walk into a shark tank. Is still so goddamn sure of herself she dedicates that half year to being a crazy bitch. Everyone sits waiting for her to expressly and publicly be a crazy bitch. And, because she can't control herself and no longer recognizes what stability looks like anymore in the presence of her equally toxic enablers, she flew off the handle and stunted some of the funniest crazy bitch shit ever off of a simple dual vibe check.

Then sits there sobbing like I DONT WANT TO LOSE A FRIEND. LOOK IM CRYING, IM CRYING, I FEEL SO BAD MAN, HER MANIPULATIONS WERENT WORKING!! SHE WAS UNABLE TO DISRUPT OUR 20 YEAR FRIENDSHIP IN A FEW MONTHS OF HER BEING A STUPID SHIT. She's SOBBING about all these months she wasted her life trying to be a manipulator on YET ANOTHER FRIEND GROUP, but picked a fight with one too storied and historied outside of fandom to mislead with her horse shit, and in fact, had already played her hand out ten years ago doing the same shit with the same people, and they were just watching her pattern through. But she's crying guys!! That's like. TOTALLY Corban's social responsibility that my ex who formerly abused him online because of her own mistakes wasted six months of her life ignoring everyone to try to be malicious and target a friend group she heard I was playing with again that were glad she was gone. Just like ten years ago the first time she backstabbed me and replaced me with another guy, when the other guy turned out to be a useless sack of shit, before she came calling for me to save her house, bugged Corban this same guy demanding he have to transport her life choice problem out of state for her and blocking him when he laughed and said no. All over again.

She wanted SO BAD TO PROVE TO SOMEONE NOBODY WANTED HER GONE. She deadass. INVESTED. ALL THIS TIME. CONVINCING HERSELF. SHE WAS DOING SOMETHING. BECAUSE SHE IS COMPLETELY UNABLE TO LEAVE ME ALONE OR STOP STALKING MY BLOG OR FRIENDS

AND SHE IS STILL TRYING TO FIND A WAY TO BE A VICTIM AND NOT A LAUGHING STOCK

YOU. DID. THIS. TO. YOURSELF.

and I've got news for you sweetheart. It doesn't stop at the circle of friends you wanted, or TK. It's time for you to stop being wilfully obtuse, recognize I've been honest with you, scroll the last few pagesof my blog reblogging the last few months of poignancy, and start realizing you already dug your hole to the center of the earth. That sound is your shovel tinking off the core. Stop digging, it's not going anywhere. Slow down long enough to read the warnings you were given this whole time, and a few time stamps and notices. Slow the fuck down and stop hurting yourself and crying to us about it.

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eclecticsoftgrungeaestheticzine · 1 year

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In 2017 my Ex lied to the police our families and our children to take full custody of my son out of fear that I intended to do the same to her, a fear provoked by her husband's insistence that was what I would try to do something he decided without knowing anything about me or ever speaking to me about anything.

Because of the lies that they told I was restrained from speaking to her seeing my child for the next 3 years.

In 2020 I saw a picture somewhere online that looks like him that originated from Tumblr so I screenshot it we blocked it and asked if anybody knew who it was because it looked a lot like my son.

And as soon as I did the entire community within Tumblr at least in so far as anybody who followed or wanted to be followed

Used that inquiry as the opportunity to attack

Sending me DMs saying they killed him and buried him in the desert or that he was on the streets and a gay prostitute, or an hiding after being attacked by some random unknown individuals

And what I'm shocked about isn't necessarily the mentally and emotionally dysfunctional adults and I use the term loosely imagining that telling apparently killed their child is somehow in the realm of pranks or retaliation for some perceived insult ,

But really anyone and everyone else in any way ridiculous lives of the people with big mouths but apparently no balls who could in realizing or understanding what happened could dismiss or ignore the impropriate

You really shouldn't have to know or care about someone

To recognize the right thing to do .

I can have literally redirected all my assets towards the most creative or vicious civil lawyer I can find and almost assuredly had the most offensive of the perpetrators held responsible for the entirety of it and incarcerated for a period of 10 years in a federal penitentiary.

The fact that I don't feel comfortable being responsible for taking 10 years of somebody's life it shouldn't be confused with my willingness to smash their face into a freak show mess of blood and bruises, and I really don't need any other reason beyond the stupid shit that they have said since I realized that they were involved why does it matter they're grievances don't matter the accusations don't matter all that does is proximity

I'm not in any Rush I'll get to you and when I do I'm going to fuck you up straight out and I don't give a goddamn what you say ,

It's funny I told the stripper based on the things she was saying when I he must have put you up to this and for whatever reason whether sincerity or just seeing the opportunity to deflect responsibility she agreed he had

Now the suggestion is that I was just easily manipulated or gullible and I'm talking shit to an old friend who really hadn't done anything

But that has no possibility of being true

Because when I contacted this old friend and told him that I had been robbed and threatened by a sex worker who blamed him he for some reason thought he was in a position to provoke

You can decide why you're getting hit at the time if it helps

Asking someone to rob an abuse me or thinking that you can talk shit about it either way you're getting fucked up

I asked if anybody recognized that he's in the picture because I hadn't been able to speak to my son in 3 years

It's been 3 years since then and every message I've received about anything has been to explain some situation of which I never inquired imagining that who and where and what the people I left behind are doing would be some kind of source of jealousy or frustration which just further illustrates what a petty jackass mentally disturbed child this guy actually is

At one point when I suggested to her that she had somehow been connected to some random person from my past she found it funny and a bit delusional when there was nothing to connect them

I wonder what she would think now 3 years after suggesting it

3 years that he has spent day and night doing nothing other than trying to think of ridiculous Scooby-Doo drama scenarios to suggest to me

I will see what happened is your son is a transvestite gay prostitute going through a sex change who was attacked and he's in hiding and I'm the only one comfortable talking to so if you want to get a message to him I can do that if you suck my dick

I mean I don't know if I'm supposed to laugh or cry when a grown man sees that as the best use of his time pathetic

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sepublic · 3 years

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I know people are saying Hunter was being manipulative, and while he definitely WAS to some extent...

At the same time, I think he genuinely thought he was right about Luz and Amity’s relationship? The kid has NO other frame of reference for a good relationship, just the conditional ‘love’ of Belos... I think Hunter was also genuinely trying to connect to Amity over this, as Luz had encouraged him to reach out more with others like him.

Maybe Hunter wanted to reassure Amity through his own solidarity with her and understanding of the situation, because she’s not the only one- He gets it! It’s okay, Amity doesn’t need to justify nor explain, her concerns are also valid, probably because they’re right and she’s NOT being too paranoid or letting her feelings take over!

And Hunter is right as Amity later acknowledges! She IS that same type of abused kid who felt the need to justify her own existence, Hunter just misinterpreted this as applying to Amity’s relationship with Luz, and not just her interactions with Odalia and Alador.

Plus Hunter HAS interacted with Alador and Odalia before, so with how Hunter recognizes Amity as the ‘Baby Blight’, he probably understands the Blight Parents as the same type of abusive, opportunistic people like his uncle. He knew the two of them first, so when Hunter sees Amity, he uses Odalia and Alador’s treatment of others as a frame of reference for how Amity was raised.

And even before Hunter chimed in, Amity HAD been concerned about losing Luz- Hunter had correctly observed what was already there and worked with it, made it worse... But this didn’t come from nowhere, nor was it quite his idea to begin with. Hunter didn’t plant any seeds into Amity’s mind, but rather feed a preexisting one.

There’s a reason why Hunter offers to dig a grave for Amity, when he thinks there really is no Titan’s Blood left, and thus has no reason to manipulate her- Yet he still extends this sympathy to Amity, just as Hunter does when he ‘thanks’ Amity for handing over the key, even though she was threatened.

On another note, I guess Hunter being a bit manipulative isn’t so shocking, not just because he’s legitimately desperate and feels cornered, and not just because he takes after Belos- But also because it seems he’s always been a bit of a deal maker, as we see in Separate Tides.

The kid DOES want to avoid conflict, actually- And he’s at least somewhat motivated by the fact that he doesn’t want to fight nor hurt people, and as soon as he no longer feels like he has to... Well, we see how he gets along with Luz, and thanks Amity in a moment of vulnerability that nobody asked for.

It doesn’t excuse what he did, but this IS who Hunter really is, just like Lilith isn’t someone who’d normally threaten to impale a child. But both of them, and even Kikimora, feel terrified of Belos;

Terrified of losing something from him, because he truly did grind their souls into nothing, and break these people to make them dependent upon him. He broke them so they legit can’t function without Belos... And when they don’t have that desired approval, the three of them completely fall apart.

But yeah, Hunter is at least socially aware enough to try and negotiate with people, play into what everyone wants, and he makes good use of hostages- Like threatening to drown King, all so he doesn’t have to kill the Selkidomus, and can justify not arresting Luz and Eda. It’s clever in a way that can be devious or kind, depending on the situation- But usually Hunter prefers to not be THAT mean, as he puts it.

#the owl house #the owl house hunter #the owl house amity #amity blight #meta

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