#both men here btw | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr was named as a finalist in Lead411’s New York City Hot 125 in Aug 2010.

tciddaemina · 2 years

Text

on sex, marriage, and family - some headcanons about the Gerudo

so i’ve been writing a lot of fic for LoZ recently, and its got me thinking about the Gerudo, specifically what the impact of being an all female race has on their culture regarding marriage, family, and the bearing of children

already, at a biological level, there’s some interesting implications. since the Gerudo still look like one single uniform race, as far as ethnicity goes, we can assume that their children inherit most of their traits - skin colour, hair colour, features, sex, etc. Gerudo have insanely dominant genes, and no matter who they have a child with, the child always takes entirely after their side of the family. the child of a Gerudo will always be a girl, and will always look like a Gerudo, to the point where the father’s genetic contribution is more or less invisible.

this sort of makes sense, since because theres no male Gerudo (shh, i’m getting to that bit) it means that for a Gerudo to bear a child, she has to go looking outside her own race for a sire. every child a Gerudo bears is by default a cross-race child, born to a father of another race. if the children didn’t take strong after their mothers, the Gerudo race would soon cease to exist because they’d be watered down by half with every generation. for the race to even continue to exist, the sheer dominance of their genes has to be like that.

this establishes two things: a) every Gerudo child takes strongly after her mother and b) that for a Gerudo to have a child she must look outside her own people.

there are Gerudo men, of course, with Ganondorf being an example. they are born extremely rarely, like only once per generation, and are essentially born to be the king. once the old king starts to age and weaken, and new one is born somewhere in the population. however, there is only one of them, and even if they sleep around pretty heavily the majority of the population of would-be Gerudo mothers still has to look elsewhere to find a sire for their child.

(on a side note, this leads to them having a very egalitarian society. since the next king is never the child of the previous king, its not a hereditary title, and the next king could be born in any subset of the population. while there are nobles who have more money, and farmers who have more modest livings, there is no true poverty or squalor in the Gerudo desert. this is because the king can be born from anywhere, including very poor families, and whenever one is they have the background and incentive to make sure that there is a healthy and equitable wealth distribution and services for the population as a whole, even their poorest people. not really relevant to the family headcanon thread here, but still an interesting thought all the same.)

so the Gerudo desert is all women, and they don’t allow men to travel freely through their lands, which means that there is not an abundant supply of potential sires just wandering by. if they want to have a child, they have to find a stud, and that means travelling outside the Gerudo lands more or less exactly for that purpose.

the Gerudo are a warrior culture who live in a harsh environment, and prize strength and skill and martial might. they’re often called ‘thieves’ or ‘raiders’, and yes part of their raiding over the borders into the neighboring kingdom might be bands of Gerudo after goods and grain and stuff, but i think part of it is that you get these bands of Gerudo who have decided they want to have a child, band together, and go off on a journey to find some sire. they’re warriors, and they want their daughters to be strong warriors too, and so they want to find studs that will give their children strong genes.

ie. they rove around challenging people to fights, and when they find someone who meets their criteria of being strong enough, or cunning enough, or maybe even just charming and sweet enough, they offer them a tumble in bed, fuck their brains out, and then continue on their way whistling merrily. they don’t do this to fall in love, they don’t want to marry these men, they purely want a roll in the hay so they can pop a bun in the oven, before wandering back to the desert to have the child and rear them themselves. (and yes, if they see a woman who is a good fighter, or even simply just very charming, they will 100% also roll in the hay with her, and also be way more likely to maybe invite her back home to get married if they end up really really gone on her).

Gerudo don’t have any possessiveness over these studs, since they’re usually only after them for one night, and so have no problem sharing. Which gets to fun things like a) a band of Gerudo deciding they all want one guy and (if willing) just passing him around and then moving on and b) some warrior getting a reputation among Gerudo for being strong and also honorable (and maybe also a good lay) and so getting tracked down specifically by questing Gerudo so they can use him as a stud, after challenging him to a fight so he can prove his mettle of course. fun times.

all Gerudo are, by default, lesbians, with the vast majority being bisexual. there are some Gerudo who might decide men hold no appeal, at which point they’ll just decide they’d rather help raise someone else’s kids, and happily spend their entire lives in a lesbian relationship without even ever having to leave the desert or see a dick. there is no “straight” since men are not a norm in the culture, with the default instead being lesbians, with most Gerudo happy to also sleep with men for the purpose of bearing kids. some may also just, shrug, like sleeping with men, but it’s nearly always on a, yeah thats a bit of fun on the side kind of way.

this whole system makes their concepts of marriage really interesting, tbh. like, of course Gerudo fall in love and get married, but they do that with other Gerudo. when Gerudo get married, they do it as a pair of wives, for love. after all, together they can’t have kids, so there’s not really a point to arranged marriages to tie together families. two Gerudo will fall in love, get married, and when they decide to have a child, they will maybe one or both wander off with a roving band to go fight and find a stud.

this has interesting implications for Gerudo attitudes towards sex as well. as sex between Gerudo is by necessity solely for pleasure, since they can’t get each other pregnant. which means that they have very liberal views towards it, in regards to it being seen as a very normal and natural thing, done primarily for the enjoyment of the act itself, rather than as a means of only having kids. similarly, sex with men, or outsiders, while fun, is largely a functional thing, done for the specific purpose of trying to get pregnant, and is a ‘no strings attached’ kind of deal.

so ‘marriage’ = ‘Gerudo marrying Gerudo’, ‘studding’ = ‘going and finding a man to sleep with so that you can have a child’. aka ‘women = love’, ‘men = no strings attached sex’.

kids raised in the Gerudo lands are raised communally by the mother and her family. like many cultures, they live in large multi-generational families, in which many people live together or are in the vicinity, sharing close ties. grandmothers, aunts, cousins, sisters, they all help out in the raising of the child. a child is a big ordeal, and tiring, so everyone helps out, and the child is essentially considered the child of the family. this is reinforced by the fact that because going and getting pregnant is such an effort, theres not a lot of women who have babies at the same time, meaning that by and large most family members and friends are available to lend a hand at any given time. after all, most of them want kids, but just haven’t had the chance themselves yet, or can’t be bothered having to go on a whole long quest for it.

this is where things start to get interesting in terms of relationships with the fathers. by and large, Gerudo don’t even really consider men an option for marriage, it just doesn’t occur to them. part of this is that ‘marriage = wife’ according to their culture, so the norms regarding marriage is for lesbian couples who will raise their kids together. but part of it is also the effect of what would happen if you did decide to marry a man from an outside culture.

see, in most cultures marriage exists as a way of tying men and women together. each man has his wife, that no one else can touch, as a way of ensuring that all her kids are his and that his family line is being continued. a woman takes her husbands name, and her kids belong to his family, taking their fathers name as well.

and this causes enormous strife when it comes to the Gerudo, because they’re matrilineal. all children belong to the mother, and are from her line, and are raised by her family. to marry a man and let him claim the children is essentially to steal the right to those children away from the mother’s family, robbing the rest of her sisters and aunts, etc, of the chance to know and help raise the child. no men live in the Gerudo desert, so any Gerudo who married would have to stay with the husbands family - never mind the fact that is is also how marriage traditionally works historically irl - and so any children would, in addition to being claimed by his name, be literally so far away that the theft is very much a physical one as well as a spiritual one.

to chose to marry a man of another culture, staying with him, is essentially choosing cultural exile and robbing your daughters of the chance to be raised with the love and support of her aunts, grandmothers, sisters, etc. for anyone, but especially for a Gerudo, that’s pretty devastating, and so even if some of them were inclined to be like ‘yeah that guy is sort of nice' the cons just so far outweigh the pros that they’d never consider it.

if anything, if they saw a man they like and were like ‘yeah actually, i’d like to keep him around’, they wouldn't marry him, but rather bring him back as a stud. essentially a lover on the side, who would (if willing) also be shared with the Gerudo’s wife and sister warriors. even this is exceptionally rare, and is done with the understanding that all of the kids born by that father are the mother’s first, taking her name, since the concept of ‘fatherhood’ doesn’t really exist to the Gerudo. at best, the man would take the place of an uncle, same as all the aunts, helping in the communal raising of the child but without any special distinction placed on his role, since the gendered role of ‘father’ within the family simply doesn’t exist in Gerudo culture.

this cultural clash between children belonging to the mother and children belonging to the father is part of the reason that men are more or less forbidden in the desert. like, if a man was willing to marry a Gerudo and travel back with her, there’s still those cultural norms and assumptions about how the family should work and who is the head of it, which just simply don’t gel with the Gerudo’s more communal matrilineal approach. it’s not so much an ‘ew you have a dick go away’ kind of motive, but rather a means of protecting their culture and way of life, to avoid men marrying Gerudo, settling in her homeland, and causing conflict as his way of life comes at odds with her’s and their norms of how a family is run clash. marrying men isn’t how its done, and only causes problems, so men are not allowed in the Gerudo homeland.

tldr; the Gerudo are an amazonian culture of lesbians who marry each other, have matrilineal families, and wander out of the desert to go fight men and sleep with them, using them as studs, before waving goodbye and wandering back home, leaving the men slightly stunned and wide eyed in their wake.

#note in a box #actually just gonna shove a whole book in there #headcanons #Legend of Zelda #LoZ #Gerudo #Gerudo Desert #some genetics and culture born lol #i could go into Gerudo concepts of gender and stuff as well and how thats impacted by them being a single sex race #but honestly this was already getting a little long #worldbuilding #culture #none of this is a criticism of men or meant to be commentary on real life btw #its just speculation about how an amazonian race would actually function genetically and culturally #just going to state that here because i know people like to purposefully misinterpret things on the internet #lesbians are not inherently superior to het couples or vise versa #love is what matters #and men and women are both equally deserving of love and desire and affection #okay? got that?#cool #goodbye

44 notes · View notes

snow-and-saltea · 7 months

Text

i dont know how to word this well but hopefully my point gets across. as ive gone through lots of manga/hwa/huas for the past few years, there's been a lot less hate for fat female characters, and when the author portrays negative traits in them, the comments are always up in arms to defend said character or point out that it was unnecessary and was adding onto a distasteful image of associating fat people = evil in media. that's good!

but i've realised that there's not as much defense or uproar when it's a fat male character? you know the one. they'll be drawn comically fat with tiny features to show that even the author thinks this character is a waste of time to put effort into giving them a design full of character details and an actual Story. they might even be bald in some cases to drive home the "lecherous old man preying on the helpless" image. they'll be bumbling, incompetent, the most inarticulate bastard in the story, and the author wants you to KNOW it. look at this guy. he's obviously meant to be hated. look how pathetic he is and how he pales in comparison with our hero, who is charming, pure snow-white in morality, Has Never Done Anything Wrong Ever.

the trouble is, unlike female fat characters that are often used as a sort of cynical, pessimistic evil whose entire identity is to prove that "sometimes you're ugly both inside and out", that isn't the case for fat male characters. in a way, fat female characters have a "way out", so to speak, because there IS a probable cause that's snowballed the problem until its become a mountain; particularly, the cord that binds how they're expected to perform in society (gender roles, sexism, internalised misogyny) and how they feel they aren't able to escape scrutiny anyways for being ugly, even if they're good. so why not go all the way? what's the use in being halfheartedly acknowledged for who you try to be, when you could be the worst version of yourself, and at least THEN they'll finally look at you proper? so a lot of fat female characters who turn evil are often in this line of thought, i think. despite how much they're trying to break free from the preconceived notions of what people want them to be, it still clashes with their innate desire to be seen, accepted, and loved by other people. so the answer to "redeem" them? simple. accept them. that's enough to write a satisfactory redemption arc to turn them "good" again.

but fat male characters... i've noticed that they're written with crimes much heavier and much more serious than their female counterparts. their appearance is never purely for the sake of psychological friction (stirring the pot, instigating distrust) in the story. we see them drawn with disgusting lustful expressions to show that they haven't moved past primitive desires (they're worse than children—they're children with an adult's ability to get what they want), touching people inappropriately, their minds always turning to the worst possible scenario, their dialogue always written with an undercurrent of narcissism, like the river of his own life was completely empty save for his own self-admiration. is that really all there is to them? how did they manage to get this far in life without ever experiencing or being convinced — or tried to be convinced — to change? has he, in all his years of living, never experienced a shred of empathy for others? has he never felt touched by the connection of another human being?

and then at the end of the story i know it was useless to ask these questions — he only existed as a plot device, as an antagonist for the final climax and resolution, the dragon to be slayed.

but he's not a dragon. he's a human, and despite his current problematic views on life or people, i'd like to try and imagine what it's like to "redeem" him.

but almost always, there IS no way. the author has cut off every possible escape route for him. he was always evil. he can't be helped. he can't change. he was always going to do this, so there's no point in imagining a world where he didn't.

but like. why? why do fat female characters get to be redeemed with the power of Love and Friendship but not him? why is it not enough for him to be bad, he must also be dangerous beyond recourse?

i don't really know the answer to this question, since i'm AFAB and i don't have insight on the matter beyond my own speculations. but the only thing i know is that it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when i see him being toppled over as the final Evil, and everyone cheering in the comments with "i've always found him sus" "finally you disgusting pig" "i hope he never shows up ever again"

i have to say, i don't like the idea, especially in fiction, that people are irredeemable and unworthy of compassion. of course this isn't a plea to forgive them or to get them out of fictional jail or whatever, but i'd at least like to entertain the thought that i want to know the entirety of a person's character before writing them off, and you can do that in stories. i can't do that in real life. i would kill myself trying. sometimes people just hurt you and you have to accept that they hurt you to give yourself express permission to protect yourself.

but in fiction... are you really telling me that a world with dragons can exist but not the possibility of change for a character whose fate was set in stone the moment their shape was carved into existence?

#yuu rambles #idk idk idk. ive had a lot of thoughts about this for a while #btw anyone who interacts w this dont fuckin come at me with the all men are evil garbage #its prolly only gonna be seen by friends who follow me but just in case i wanna put it out there #i dont believe all men are evil though i do think theyre raised and incentivized to nurture traits that are #convenient for being evil effectively. but its taught not inborn meaning anyone can decide to change what they dont like #about themselves. its called accidents of birth bc we dont have a say in how we're born in what appearance in what environment #but as you grow up you do owe yourself the opportunity to be someone you're proud of #and to be honourable both in character and action #anyways. ANYWAYS!!!!!!!#idk man im just rambling. also there might be processing some Shit in here tehepero #u know how it be!!!!#i fuckin FORGOR to trigger tag this im sorry!!!#tw fatphobia

5 notes · View notes

moodr1ng · 1 year

Text

basically im gonna start just putting 'dni if you define gender categories as men and non-men' and move on lol. like just be open and proud that you do not respect multigender people and, more importantly, people whose genders sit outside of the western colonial gender binary entirely, and stop pretending. like just decide whether im a man or a woman to you personally and sit on one side of the fence. if you are unwilling to conceptualize gender without a binary in there - even a reinvented binary that makes just enough space for you but not me lol - then fit me in the binary. im serious. if you think "everyone is either a man, or a not-man" is anything but a reinvention of "everyone is either a man or a woman" but awkwardly shifted to try and add nonbinary people to one side, then put that framework into use and misgender me. i am actively asking you to. you do not get to handwave me away as just an exception to your good new gender binary, or to try and say i fit into both groups when you are literally defining them by being mutually exclusive.

decide if im a man or a woman to you, treat me accordingly. ONLY treat me as one or the other, and do not switch it up when its convenient for you. just misgender me. i think its kinder.

#long post #vent #sorry im still high and annoyed bc ive been saying this same shit for like a year or two or whatever #oh btw when i said ppl whos gender are outside of the western colonial system i DONT mean me #i am colonized enough that i have no sources on how my people saw gender pre colonization so im just stuck w the colonialist framework 🤪#my point is moreso that i believe people w cultural/pre-colonial/decolonized (idk which terms are best sorry) genders who also are impacted #by this forcible translation of their gender into the western standard only to have it then used against them #is particularly fucked up like. in a way that i dont experience #but yeah needed to spell it out like.#when i described the framework of gender which i believe is regressive and also cannot allow my gender in any meaningful way?#YES that includes men vs non-men bs.#if you agree with that shit that is binarist thinking which hurts other trans ppl and ppl whose genders dont fit that reductive vision.#so when i said 'people who will 100% say they agree w my gender but ultimately can only let me be my gender by crushing it into place'#n all that shit?#if you use that 'non-men' shit or similar stuff. i do mean you. i was asking you to consider that your view of gender is reductive #and rooted in binarism.#like idk how to make it clearer lol #if you are surface level agreeing but youre still going to choose to view gender thru this binary lens then misgender me.#its one or the other. but you cannot have both here. you cannot hold views on gender that are based in denying my gender means anything #while also claiming you respect me.#97

7 notes · View notes

el-im · 2 years

Text

in the version of ent which exists exclusively in my head where the writers were more character-oriented and fleshed all of the bridge crew out from toe to top rather than writing on the current of the newest (ridiculous) arc they’d come up with, hoshi was to archer the combination of what trip/t’pol were to him (the old friend and the advisor). it’s established that hoshi/archer (similar to trip/archer) have a relationship going back a long time, they both frequently and independently refer to times that archer made the trip down from san francisco to brazil where hoshi was teaching (after she’d been suspended from the academy), with him staying with her for extended periods (the first time they met, he stayed with her for a week as torrential rain poured over rio, the entire time, hoshi was running a fever, having picked up some tropical bug, but talking about it later she laughs, saying she was so worried about making a good impression she almost could have set her chills and aches to look presentable...) combine this with the instances we have of hoshi very obviously having trouble reckoning with the (less than ethical) choices archer made during the xindi mission/within the delphic expanse, and you end up with a dynamic that combines a long friendship + the deep understanding of each other that arises alongside that history with the benefit of council you trust to be objective, and (when necessary) unsympathetic to you when you are doing others wrong.

basically what i’m saying is i ran into this again the other day and... it’s what we deserved them to be like.

they find themselves whisked into one of the most tense and dangerous conflicts that they (as a species) have ever come into contact with, and there is more on the line for the entire world that they are directly responsible for... the hardship there lends itself to so much fodder for relationship exploration, but it was never so much as even considered

#captain's log #i have a post saved in my drafts that says 'i do have an agenda and it's hoshi/archer btw' but ill delete it and say this instead bc its a #more in-depth exploration as to what i mean #like. despite the fact that trip was supposed to have this long relationship w archer and was supposed to be his friend i feel like that #kind of... fell on it's ass a lot. archer's ego made it easy to brush trip off (do i think the fact that both of them were very much Men™#came into play here? and the fact that hoshi/archer's relationship would be different based on gender dynamics/archer being hesitant to #treat hoshi (specifically as a woman) like he treats trip? yes. but thats a whole other post)#not to mention the fact that the specific way that trip/archer communicate is SO different from how we see archer/hoshi interact.#anyway. having someone who knew him WELL and was his PERSONAL FRIEND who he would have had a hard time bossing around/who certainly #took the commands he gave with more of a fight than trip... would have been good #also i just think its sad that bc trip/tpol's relationship is focused on so much more in the later seasons that the friendship between trip #and archer gets sort of forgotten abt #not to mention the fact that the trip/tpol relationship also sort of takes the place of tpol and archer's relationship #in which she is his advisory figure #both the trip/archer and tpol/archer relationships are still very much there but they're not as heavy as they were prior to s3 i think #so having hoshi step in to fill that and being able to see him lean on her as they go further into the expanse and as they get more #desperate and more afraid ... would have been terrific #bc it also would have come at a point where hoshi herself is getting her 'sealegs' and becoming more confident w her role on enterprise #and her contributions to their mission #trek #tldr: archer needs his moral compass checked. and hoshi is intelligent/empathetic/kind enough to be the figure that could have helped him.#also they LOVE each other. and i wish we'd seen more of their friendship. the hug between them in twilight... or when she finds out he's #alive after he went to try to blow up the xindi weapon and he was captured and they all thought he was dead. she was just... SO happy to see #him it was so fucking cute

47 notes · View notes

crow-the-unknown · 1 year

Text

Killing Strangers - an Avalanche mob/gang AU from multiple POVs (first three are Nate, Cale, and then Gabe's)

The rain was heavy and loud in Nate’s ears, the noise of the road dimmed by the alley. He hissed in a breath and touched lightly at his side, it came away deep red for a moment before the rain washed it away. He was so screwed. Gabe was gonna kill him. Nate staggered underneath a doorway and let his legs give in. He felt lightheaded and the water was blurring his vision. Distantly, he thought he heard the shrill whine of a dog— but that might have been his imagination. He needed to stitch himself up, he couldn’t die here. Not like this.

At least if they found him, he’d get a nice funeral. Maybe one day Cale could find a way to forgive him for leaving too soon. Maybe he’d find someone new. Nate hoped so, the kid deserved that much. The neon world began to fade away. Nate fell into unconsciousness, alone and dreaming of him.

...

“Nate. Nate.”

Cale? Nate’s ears were ringing and he slowly blinked awake. He tried to sit up,but someone pushed him back. Nate’s vision cleared and Cale’s rosy face came into focus. Pain was a distant thing. Confusion struck. He was supposed to be dead. Why wasn’t he dead? What the hell? Once again Nate tried to sit up despite clearly being injured. He struggled against Cale’s hold.

“Nate,” Cale scolded harshly and he rolled his eyes. “Nate, you stubborn bastard, just sit still,” he huffed.

Nate stopped, settling for resting back on his elbows even though it was incredibly uncomfortable. He had no clue where he was. The room was dimly lit, and steel was cold beneath him. He glared at the wall, and Cale smiled a bit. A few quiet moments passed, the only sound was the faint shouting of voices down the hall and the buzz of the ceiling light. Absently, Nate registered one of the voices as Gabe’s. Nate turned to Cale, wincing as his side stung again. “Where are we?” he asked softly.

Cale looked around, making sure they were alone purely out of instinct and not worry. He took a seat beside the metal table Nate was laying on and ran his hand shakily through his messy brown hair. He adjusted his suit jacket and touched at his peach fuzz nervously. “Downtown. A few blocks away from where I found you,” responded Cale.

God, Cale sounded so tired and worried. Nate felt a stab of guilt over giving him a scare like that. He shouldn’t have gone out on his own. He was lucky to be alive. Well, he wouldn’t be if Cale hadn’t followed him. Nate owed him. Nate didn’t suspect just an apology would do either.

“Gabe tracked down the guys we were after. He’s… dealing with them now,” insinuated Cale with a notable look at the door, his voice becoming laced with something dark.

“Did they have the…?” asked Nate, knowing Cale would have an answer.

Cale looked down at the floor, brows furrowed. He didn’t seem disappointed, just pissed. “No,” he replied with a small shake of his head. “They’re getting what’s coming to them, though.”

Nate flung his legs over the table, sitting up tentatively. He held up a hand to signal he was okay when Cale immediately looked up, expression wary. Nate searched Cale’s frustrated features. “Gabe tell you to back off?”

Cale just barely managed a laugh and he shrugged. He moved a bit too mechanically, swaying side to side a bit and he stood. Cale readjusted his watch absentmindedly. The face was fractured, but Nate knew why he still wore it. It was a symbol of why Cale was here in the first place. A reminder. Only Nate knew the full story. “Yeah. Yeah he did. Sent me to come look after you once Pavel finished stitching you up.”

“He’s giving them the right treatment, don’t worry.”

“Oh, I know.” Cale helped Nate to his feet. “But I would have given them hell on a platter. I would have given them even worse than they deserved for you.”

Nate grinned, and it was a cruel, bright thing. He laughed faintly, gripping his wounded side again as it ached. “I know you would have, Cale. I think that’s why he stopped you.”

They turned down the fluorescent-green lit hall, Nate leaning heavily on Cale for support. The shrieking got louder with each step. Halfway to the next set of doors Cale announced out of the blue, “You almost died, Nate. You know that? Pavel barely saved you in time… you—” Nate winced at the way Cale’s voice caught— “you were barely even breathing when I got you to Pavel. I felt you slip away in my arms…”

Cale drew in a sharp breath and Nate’s chest tightened in guilt. Nate looked up to him, brows raised with sympathy. Cale readjusted himself so that Nate didn’t slip from his hold. He sniffed and used his free hand to wipe at the corners of his eyes. Nate looked down again and pursed his lips. “I— I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” agreed Cale quietly, but his voice was not forgiving.

The twenty-four year old pushed through the doors and immediately the screams of men pierced the air. Cale’s expression was firm set, his eyes cold and unloving as he brought Nate in. Gabe was standing in a single beam of light before a chair. Nate could see the blood dripping from his hands. Steel glinted in the light, and the doors slammed shut behind them. Nate gave Gabe a cheeky, short lived smile as his boss’ cruel profile turned to him. “Gabe,” greeted Nate blankly.

“Nate.” Gabe’s jaw ticked, and he dipped his head curtly Nate’s way. Then, he turned back to his work without so much as a word. Nate took a seat and watched the show with the others, satisfaction easing his pain like a tonic.

***

Cale should have known Nate would leave on his own. They’d all been at the meeting Gabe had called, sat in their wide circle to discuss. A group of guys had been infringing on their borders and smuggling supplies out of their warehouses, which Cale knew would only look worse on paper should things go… south. The same guys they’d suspected had also broken into one of their safehouses and stolen various important papers and valuables. They’d become a big problem, so Gabe had rallied all the guys to a discreet location and they’d made plans. Their big guys— men like Valeri, Nate, and Kurtis— would deal with the dirty stuff. Meanwhile someone like Cale would go under the radar, work in secret, just like any other job. Things like this tended to get messy, but Cale didn’t mind so long as they stuck to their assignments.

Nate had not stuck to his assignment. They weren’t even supposed to be going out that night, especially not alone. Nate was usually smart enough to at least bring back up, but lucky for him Cale could tell exactly what the twenty-seven year old was planning. The second Gabe had gone through what he wanted, with Erik offering obvious solutions to the boss’ problems as usual, Cale had seen how tense Nate got. He’d noticed the way his jaw ticked, the way he sat up, and the way his eyes glinted with ambition. Cale was trained to notice things like that.

Gabe had called their meeting to a close and the guys all paired off, laughing with each other and making plans to go out and have some fun. It was painfully obvious to see Nate break off on his own and Cale had gone straight to Gabe. He’d caught the Swede just as he was about to walk through the doors to his exit. “Landy,” he hissed, voice urgently quiet.

“Cale?” Gabe replied warily, voice instantly dropping that authority he led meetings with as his brows furrowed with genuine concern.

Cale pulled him off to the side behind a tall pillar. “It’s Nate.”

Gabe sighed and rolled his eyes, unsurprised yet still concerned.

“I’m going to trail him. I think he’s headed west to his spot where he last… Well,” Cale looked around, best stay careful, “you know. Will you get some of the guys to come with? He might need them if things get scrappy.”

Gabe redid his maroon suit’s button and adjusted his deep red tie against the stark black dress shirt he wore. Only he wore things like that. It was a symbol of his status. Some stories said his suits had started off white and the blood he’d had to shed to get to the top was stained into what he wore. Gabe embraced the stories though— despite their untruthfulness—, because they worked. No one messed with their group, and Gabe was a huge reason for it. The nicknames they gave him didn’t even begin to scrape the surface of what Gabe was really capable of. Cale had seen what the man could do, the lengths he’d go to get a job done… it was cruelly fascinating. And in some sick, twisted way, Cale couldn’t help but respect him.

Gabe snapped Cale back to the matter at hand with his response, “Oh, Cale. You don’t need backup when you have me.”

The conversation ended there and Gabe was already headed to the weapons room. Cale shook himself out of it and rushed out the exit. He hurried down the steps and searched the street. Which route would you take, Nate? The answer was near instant. Nate’s recognizable figure was standing by the road, waving for a taxi. Cale stayed out of the sidewalk and watched from behind the building’s gate. He hesitated, watching closely as Nate got into the taxi that had pulled up. It started heading west. Cale smiled faintly despite the anxiety in his veins. He was right. Nate was so stupid.

Cale immediately turned down the next alley and took the fastest route he knew. He was going to kill that man. Cale pulled out his phone and typed quickly as he walked. He sent Gabe a single word, knowing that his boss would know exactly where to go. Luckily enough, Cale wasn’t too worried about walking there. The spot Nate was going wasn’t too far from the building they’d met at, and Cale trusted Nate just enough to know he could handle himself just fine. This of course, excused nothing, but it at least managed to calm Cale’s worries a little bit. Well, that and also the fact that he’d placed a tracker on Nate because of the last time he’d run off on his own— per Gabe’s orders.

It’d been a couple months ago, and the stakes weren’t nearly as dire as this. Some guys from one of the other upcoming gangs, one a lot smaller than the one they were dealing with now, were causing trouble and Gabe had wanted a group to go out and deal with them. Simple stuff at first, just talk and a few threats. That usually worked with the reputation their gang held. Gabe still wanted multiple guys, however, just in case things got frisky. It was the smart move, one Cale had suggested. Yet, Nate had gone off on his own.

All Cale remembered was being worried sick for almost three hours as they searched and waited for Nate to come back. When he had, he’d been bloody and battered. Pavel had stitched up stab wounds and cuts, and his body had been wildly bruised. Apparently they’d underestimated the threat, but all Nate seemed willing to say was that they had still gotten it way worse. Cale shook his head to himself, trying to keep a steady pace as he weaved behind buildings and watched Nate’s location. It had slowed, a good sign that Nate was now on foot and no longer speeding ahead in a taxi.

Rain began to pour and Cale slid his phone into his pocket. He stopped, listening attentively. This area was less populated, more bars and underground clubs than busy streets and sidewalks packed with consumers. Cale straightened. He thought he heard… no. Cale’s heart sank in his chest as the echo of a gunshot floated through the air, a cruel melody. Cale was running before he could think anything of it, he pushed through anyone that was in his way as he frantically looked up and down alleys for Nate’s figure. Please don’t let it be him, don’t let it be him, Cale’s mind screamed.

Down the street he saw a group of about five guys, laughing and chatting amongst each other as they walked up the stairs to a bar. Cale saw from a distance that one of them had a tattoo on his neck and rage sparked. It’s them. Cale dialed Gabe and talked as he ran, now going with purpose to the alley he’d seen the men coming out of. “Hey, I found the guys,” Cale began shakily, “they’re downtown at the Ambrosia—”

Cale skidded to a halt at the entrance to the alley and his phone clattered to the concrete. Cale didn’t care. Nate was yards down, slumped underneath a doorway and bleeding. Cale forced his legs to move and he scrambled to Nate’s side. He’d never seen him so hurt… a clear sign that Nate hadn’t known what he was getting into. God, there was so much blood. Cale shook Nate by his shoulders a bit. “Nate.”

Hope fled as fast as a flint struck spark. Cale’s chest felt heavy, his heart sinking like a stone. He searched desperately for Nate’s pulse. It was there, but fading. Cale drew in a sharp breath and collected himself. Act like this is just another job. Just get him to Pavel’s place. He’s the nearest medic we have… Cale heaved Nate as gently as possible to his feet. Nate’s eyes fluttered open for a moment and Cale breathed the barest sigh of relief. He was alive. “Okay, Nate, I need you to walk. Just move your legs a bit, I’m taking you to Frankie,” he instructed gently.

Nate didn’t seem to hear him, he groaned and Cale winced at the thought that he could be hurting Nate even more, but he followed what Cale asked. Cale breathed shakily, looking up into the rainy sky. “Thank you.”

The trip felt so much longer than it really was. Every so often Nate would slip, and Cale would have to rest him against a wall and tear more from his suit to press against Nate’s shot wound. Then he’d heave him back up and stagger forward, keeping in the dark alleys and streets where there was no one to bother them or ask questions. Cale did his best to ignore the way Nate got limper in his hold and started leaning more heavily on Cale. He couldn’t die here, Cale refused to let that happen. He’d drag Nate back from hell if he had to.

Finally after what felt like hours, Cale was finally at Pavel Francouz’s doorstep. The response was immediate, Pavel had helped Cale take Nate in and then he’d gone to work. It’d been awful to watch. Nate had been completely still. It was terrifying. He’d lost so much blood, it was everywhere. After about half an hour Gabe had showed up and Cale had let him in. Behind him followed Val and Kurtis and Mikko, each shoving a beaten man through the hall. Gabe led, his knuckles bruised and his lip cut but other than that there was no sign he’d even been hit. The boss leaned on the doorway, looking into where Pavel had Nate. “Where can we take them?” he asked, catching the medic’s attention.

“Down the hall there’s a room that should do just fine. You calling together a show?” Pavel questioned simply, not looking away from working on Nate’s wounds.

Gabe smirked, drumming his fingers on the doorframe. His gaze landed on Nate and his jaw set into place, his eyes glinting with something dark and cold and brutally unforgiving. He looked away and nodded at his guys, signaling for them to go ahead where Pavel instructed. “Yeah, yeah I am. You good with the visitors?”

“Of course,” said Pavel pleasantly. “Always am.”

“Good man…” Gabe praised and went silent, staring at Nate’s still body. “Will he be alright?” he asked softly, the words barely a whisper.

Cale knew the feeling. Gabe had been the one to take Nate in when Nate had been lost, searching for a job, and angry. He’d taught him how to hold his own in a fight. He’d taken a lonely and vengeful kid and turned him into the monster he needed to be. In some ways, Nate was akin to a son for Gabe. Cale understood his pain. He didn’t want to see the person he loved most in this state either.

“He’ll be okay. He can’t die on us that easy,” Cale replied with a small laugh, though his chest only tightened more.

Pavel stepped away and looked at Gabe. “I did my best. He lost a lot of blood, though. He was gashed pretty deep in his side and the shot went through his shoulder… I—” he paused, wringing his hands together, and repeated, “I did my best.”

Gabe nodded. “I know. Thank you.”

Cale stopped Gabe before he could go. The Swede turned to him, giving him an almost warning look in response to Cale’s pleading eyes. “Cale, think about your priorities before you speak.”

Cale felt a wave of embarrassment and dull, tired-made anger wash over him. He wasn’t a child. In fact, he was a very calculated person. He always thought about what he said. He was frankly offended that Gabe would assume he wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe he wasn’t. “I want to deal with them, Gabe. Let me give them hell for what they did.”

Gabe was unfazed. “You need to watch him. I can deal with them just fine.”

“It’s my boyfriend that’s laying on that table on the verge of death, Gabe,” Cale snapped. “Let me hurt them like they hurt him. Do you honestly think I’d hesitate?” he challenged.

Gabe leaned in, voice steady but commanding, “Cale. Let it be. Nate needs you, and you know it. Now let me handle this, you’ll get your fun in time. Just be patient.”

Cale looked down at his feet, cheeks deep red. He turned away and took a seat next to Nate. “Fine. Now go have your fun. I’ll be here.”

Gabe gave him one last lingering look and Cale took Nate’s barley warm hand in his own. He didn’t even need to look up to know Gabe had gone. Pavel took off his gloves and slung his medical bag over his shoulder.

“Cale, I— I know this must be hard for you. I’m pretty new here, but I just want to say that he should be alright. He just needs to take it slow. Whenever he wakes up, get him water and bring him into where I sent Gabe. There’s food there, and he’ll need the nutrients to regain his strength given how much blood he lost. I’ve dealt with things like this before, so come to me if you need anything, alright?”

Cale nodded and said, “Thanks, Frankie. You’re too good to us. I appreciate it, though. I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost him. You saved his life.”

Pavel smiled, dipping his head gratefully. “I know.”

Cale laughed and shook his head. The rain began to slow outside, and the night calmed. Cale rested his head in his free palm, other hand still in Nate’s. The twenty-seven year old’s chest was now rising and falling more regularly, labored but getting better. That was a good sign. Cale sighed as he rubbed his thumb over Nate’s bruised, bloody knuckles. It was going to be a long night.

***

It had been a long, long time since Gabe had felt rage quite like this. That white hot, everlasting flame that consumed everything and left nothing behind. The kind that only translated to the language Gabe loved more than words: violence. Untamed, wild, ceaseless violence. Violence that often made him feel more animal or machine than human. There could be no shame, just precision. Just intent.

He’d stormed into that bar alone, and immediately The Ambrosia had gone quiet. It wasn’t a rowdy bar like most of the clubs around here. It was rustic, a place for deals to be discreetly made or bets to be waged. This one one of the only spots downtown someone could go that was quiet. The interior design was based on Greek architecture— a nod to the name “Ambrosia”. All eyes turned to Gabe. At the end of the bar five large men who’d been talking and drinking went silent. Gabe’s gaze landed on the large tattoo on one of their necks and he adjusted his suit calmly. The bartender broke the tense silence, “Careful, Näken.”

Gabe nearly smiled at the name. At least this man had the decency to give him a name in the proper language. Gabe cracked his neck and strode towards the group of men. He looked slightly up at the man with the tattoo who was only an inch or so taller than he was. Gabe tapped his index finger on the bar and instantly the bartender slid a glass of whiskey to him. Without breaking eye contact with the men, Gabe downed the drink and cleared his throat. The room was eerily silent.

From behind Gabe, the bell on the door of The Ambrosia rang loud and clear. He didn’t need to look away to know it was his men. He’d called them just before getting to The Ambrosia, and all he’d needed to do was give himself some time that his reputation served just well. Finally, Gabe spoke, “One of my own is dying because of you.”

Gabe threw his first blow into the gut of the tattooed man with as much composure as he could muster and the man bent double. The rest of his group surged forward, but Gabe held up a hand and surprisingly they stopped, confused. Gabe finished his statement, “One of my own is dying because of you… that doesn’t happen.”

And then it was on. Gabe let his muscles do the talking, let his natural instinct take over as he fought. When one man lunged, he ducked and immediately had the advantage again. Next thing he knew, he and Mikko were back to back. Val had already handled one of them and was working on heaving the man, barely conscious, to his feet and out the door. Kurtis was facing off against the tattooed man. Gabe drew his attention back to the matter at hand and together he and Mikko brought down the other two men.

After several thrown punches, Gabe loomed over the last man still conscious, watching curiously as he tried to crawl away. Suddenly, the man turned, picked up a fallen glass of drink, and threw it past Gabe’s head. He turned sharply away, dodging most of the impact. Blood began to seep from a cut in Gabe’s lip where the glass had actually caught, but the sting was nonexistent. He smiled faintly and licked away the blood, teeth bright white against the stark red bubbling on his lip. The man looked up at Gabe, terrified, as the Swede crouched before him. Then, before he could even get out a single syllable of an insult, Gabe drew back his fist and knocked the man out cold.

Gabe stood and shrugged off his suit jacket, throwing it over one of the barstools. He motioned for Mikko to take the men outside and pulled up a bottle of bourbon. He took two ice cubes from the bowl next to him, and calmly poured himself a glass. Gabe downed it, put two coins on the table haphazardly, and exited The Ambrosia. He neatly folded his suit jacket over his arm, embracing the rain and the cold. Then, he readjusted his tie and met the others back in the car. Gabe rode with Mikko and Val, meanwhile Kurtis drove separately with the rest of Nate’s unconscious attackers.

The drive was silent and tense. Any spark of excitement that had come with the fight had long since died. The weight of Nate’s unknown condition was heavy in the air. Even Mikko, who usually brought some fun to dull scenarios, was quiet. Gabe stared out the window and tried to shove his thoughts away, but all he could see was Cale’s bright, cracked screen on the concrete and the blood on the door where Nate had been. They pulled up to Pavel’s and Gabe was quick to get out of the car.

Mikko pulled smelling salts out of his pocket and handed them to Val, who took them and broke them before waving them under the men’s noses. They both jolted awake and together Mikko and Val helped them out of the car. At least they were smart enough not to resist. Maybe they thought that if they cooperated they’d escape their fate. They were wrong.

Kurtis was already there, waiting patiently with the other men they’d fought. Gabe strode towards him, peering closely at the man with the tattoo on his neck. He grit down on his teeth a bit, brows furrowing with an untouchable anger. They’re Bolts, Gabe recognized, finally getting a close look at the ink on the man’s neck. Great. Just great.

Everything else after that passed in a blur. Next thing Gabe knew he was standing in a circle of light, being watched intently by the others. Distantly, Gabe might have remembered a conversation with Cale and Frankie. But the only clear, jarring thing he could recall was Nate laying still on a metal table. Gabe’s grip on his blade tightened and he pressed it faintly into the skin of the tattooed man’s forearms. He let out a high pitched whine through gritted teeth and Gabe closed his eyes, pressing further. Then the man began to scream and beg.

“It was just a job!” he sobbed but Gabe paid him no heed.

Gabe made a deep slash across the man’s cheek. Then he stepped back, leaning on his heels as he laughed. “Just a job,” mocked Gabe, running his hand through his hair at the absurdity. “‘Just a job’ he says. Things like this are never just a job.Nate nearly died because of you. I don’t let things like that slide.”

Suddenly, the man received a rush of confidence— a very poor decision on his part— at Gabe’s threat and he sneered, “It was his fault anyway! You’d really think someone under the Näken’s wise teachings would know better. I’d be disappointed too. He might not even make the night in the state we left him—”

Gabe had the man pulled up by his collar within seconds, blade twisting deep in his side. Gabe relished the silent, open mouthed shriek the man let out and he met eyes with the Bolt, cold blue on deep brown. Gabe leaned in and hissed quietly into the dying man’s ear, “You know… you’re lucky he’s alive. If he wasn’t I assure you, your death would be much slower than this. Consider this a gift.”

The tattooed man’s features contorted with deep pain and Gabe let him go. He slumped against the chair and after several tense moments he went still. Blood began to drip on the floor, Gabe’s hands were wet. He drew in a sharp breath and calmly readjusted his suit. Gently, Gabe pulled the man off the chair and he crumpled in a heap to the floor. Without needing to be told, Kurtis moved forward and took the body away. Distantly, Gabe heard Mikko going to grab the next.

“Wait,” spoke out Gabe and the Fin paused. Gabe undid his tie and threw it across the room and he removed his suit jacket, leaving only his button up and the deep red vest. “Call up the others. Why waste the chance at entertainment?”

Mikko nodded curtly and replied, “Yes, boss.”

Gabe turned to Val. “Go find Frankie and ask him if there’s chairs somewhere. I’m going to check on Nate.”

“Of course, Landy…” Val began and after a few moments asked softly, “Will he be alright? I didn’t see much, but—” the Russian struggled to find the right words— “he looked not good.”

Gabe fell silent. The weight of reality came crashing back. This wasn’t normal, there had never been a hunger for revenge quite like this. Not that revenge wasn’t justified before, it was just that the situation had never been so dire. Nate was dying. That never happened. But here Gabe was, ignoring his closest friend and resorting to the only thing he knew; violence. He shoved away the pang of guilt he felt at that.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh. I— I’m sorry then. I know Nate means lots to you. He does to all of us.”

Gabe nodded, picking up what really mattered from what Val was saying through his thick accent. He hastily turned and strode down the hall. It couldn’t have been more than an hour since he’d last visited, but frankly Gabe didn’t care. Every dull moment was replaced with worry over Nate. He felt a hot wave of embarrassment come over him. He was so stupid. Nate would live, so why was he so anxious? He was supposed to be the collected one, the one that let his fists do the talking or the one that smoothly and deftly executed a complicated deal. He wasn’t supposed to lose it over something as simple as Nate being an idiot and getting himself into trouble again.

“Gabe?” Cale’s voice snapped him from his thoughts abruptly.

Gabe drew in a sharp breath and rubbed at his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed the overwhelming dread and sadness that had made its way into his heart. Gabe’s cheeks flushed red slightly. At least it was Cale and not someone else that was witnessing his boss’ unraveling. Gabe could trust Cale the most out of everyone with something like his shame. That put Gabe at ease, if only a little bit, and he made his way as casually as possible to Nate’s side.

“I just wanted to check on him,” stated Gabe.

Cale could have responded with a sarcastic comment, pointing out how obvious it was that Nate was the reason Gabe ended up here. But he didn’t. Instead he replied the way Cale would. “I’m worried about him too,” reassured Cale.

“How’s he been?” Gabe asked, trying to ignore how much Cale’s kind response made him want to completely break down.

Cale absently gave Nate’s hand a squeeze and he shrugged a bit hopelessly. “He’s been okay… his breathing’s a lot better but it’s shallow. I think he should be alright, but I don’t know how Frankie feels about it. I’m not a medic, I’m just—” Cale laid his forehead onto his and Nate’s hands as if in prayer— “hanging on to any hope I have left.”

“I think we all are,” admitted Gabe. After a few moments Gabe shook his head with the barest laugh and he stated, “How could he be so stupid?”

Cale smiled faintly, but it looked forced.

“He knows better. If you hadn’t been able to follow him, he’d be dead right now… I mean, did you see the guys we brought in?”

Cale’s interest peaked, as if he’d completely forgotten the people responsible for Nate’s predicament in the first place, and he questioned, “No, who were they?”

“Bolts.”

The color drained from the twenty-four year old’s face for a moment. “Shit,” he cursed.

“Yeah… I don’t know. Hopefully this should send the message, but it might escalate. We’ll see how it goes as their guys turn up missing but with Nate out of the field our manpower will be weakened. We’re going to have to call up some guys if they’re going to keep infringing on our borders. We might be going to war.”

Cale looked away. Uncomfortable silence fell and Gabe felt a pang of guilt. He shouldn’t be talking about this, not here, not now. He was only making it all worse.He should know better, Cale was sensitive to things like this. Talk like this. “I’m sorry,” apologized Gabe, “I know it’s not the time. I was just speaking out whatever came to mind, I didn’t mean to seem insensitive.”

“No, you’re alright,” Cale interjected. “I was just thinking.”

Gabe didn’t miss the way Cale stared at his broken watch as he said it. It was a curious thing, that watch. Gabe never understood why he wore something broken— he’d assumed it had some value of course— but he’d never bothered to ask Cale why. All he knew was that Cale never took it off, or at least that was how it seemed. Just as Gabe was working up the nerve to ask, the doors to the building opened and the noise of the others floated down the hall.

Gabe straightened. “That’s the others. I— I’m going to go…” Gabe began as he stood. “And Cale?”

The twenty-four year old came to attention, snapped out of gazing longingly at Nate. “Yeah?” responded Cale.

Gabe’s hand paused on the door handle. “Thank you.”

Cale seemed to be caught off guard by the compliment, but he nodded and replied, “Of course.”

Gabe gave him the barest hint of a smile and closed the door behind him. He said his greetings to his men and led them down the hall, reset into the stern but relatable leader he had to be. Part of him felt bad for leaving Cale, but if he was being honest with himself he wanted to be the one to hurt those that had nearly killed Nate. Was it selfish? Yes. But Gabe couldn’t bring himself to care. Cale would get his time, if he wanted. Right now, Gabe was going to do what he did best: harm and maim and kill. Neither hell nor high water was going to stop him.

#colorado avalanche #nathan mackinnon #cale makar #gabriel landeskog #829 #692 #mens hockey rpf #hrpf #btw the title is actually a song #it's called Killing Strangers by Marilyn Manson and it's really good #you might recognize it if you're a John Wick fan #cos this is inspired by John Wick and also the Six of Crows duology #i highly recommend them both #anyways here's the first three parts i hope you like it lol #this is one of my current and long projects so updates will be many but possibly far in between #also 692 fic is in the works but idk how long it's gonna take me #ps: i can't wait to give georgie weapons in this lmao #one goalie medic and one goalie that gets to just fight someone #they're a duo your honor

4 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

awesome-lady-pizza-v-blog

Mr fifi

sanjanajainsj

Untitled

edwyrdo

Old Man

justplaggin

plaggin' around

defleftist

🍉DefLeftist🍉