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multiland · 3 years

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Mr. perfect.

pairing: idol!Joshua x reader

genre: angst

word count: 1.5K

summary: what do you do when the one who was always there to comfort you, is the one who now has broken you?

warnings: mentions of cheating, denial and heartbreak.

A/N: this sucks. I’m sorry.

When you first learned about love, you always tried to keep in mind that everything about it was ephemeral, that no matter how many happy endings you had heard about, there was no way someone could ever meet such expectations. To you, fairytales were nothing but that, a fictional scenario people created to give themselves hope, to try to find something good even when the so-called love they felt, hurt them more than any physical harm.

But then you met Joshua, and suddenly you found yourself believing in everything you had convinced yourself was nothing but a lie.

You met him on a Friday night at some fancy party your best friend had thrown. Being from a wealthy family, it was no surprise to you that you found some famous people there. You were nothing like them, but being attached to the hip to her since you were kids surely took you to some places you would’ve never thought you’d ever see.

Dressed in a skin-tight navy dress, you were minding your own business, playing with the martini in your hands as your eyes traveled across the enormous house. The music wasn’t the same kind people your age would put in the background, instead, there were some violinists and pianists playing live. You felt out of place, the fact that your friend had left your side to keep greeting people not helping at all.

And that’s when you saw him, walking through the door with some other guys in a beige tuxedo, black strands of hair hanging over his eyes and small silver piercings decorating his ears.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to him, as he stood there across the room with his hands in his pockets, clearly enjoying the music and focused on the musicians. That’s when somewhere along the lines his eyes had landed on you, the previously blank expression on his face turning into the smallest but sweetest smile for you, and you swore you had never seen a man that beautiful in your entire life.

You knew it was over for you as soon as those round and beautiful dark orbs made your heart go crazy, wanting to look away but not being able to. He had an instant power over you, and you didn’t even want it to be any different.

Somehow you exchanged numbers that night, and although you thought you would never see him again, he proved you otherwise when he started texting you the following days.

You started spending time together every now and then, going to some cafes or meeting somewhere more private. Knowing the reality of his situation wasn’t something easy, but you were soon so infatuated with him that you didn’t even think of saying no when he asked you out.

Being with an idol wasn’t what you had expected at all, but Joshua always made everything feel so safe, warm, and comfortable that everything seemed to be just so easy.

He was so attentive, caring, and loving that you, not even once, felt neglected. He called you every single night before going to sleep or messaged you in the mornings or during breaks.

If you ever felt bad, he always knew the right words to say, and even though you felt insecure about him being around beautiful women all the time, he was quick to ease your fears and make you believe there was no way in the world he would ever want someone who wasn’t you.

You felt wanted, beautiful, and loved. He was a prince, he was everything someone could have ever wanted. So gentle, sweet, always there for you no matter what.

He was the only one who was able to set your body aflame with a single touch, always feeling like you were flying whenever his arms wrapped around you and the smell of his cologne, so familiar, filled your nose and made you feel like everything would be okay.

The way he held your hand and kissed your knuckles when he drove, the way he always tucked strands of hair behind your ear, or the way he kissed you in the middle of saying something just because he couldn’t help but being so whipped for you, making you lose your mind with such a simple action.

His sweet, raspy voice in the mornings after he had spent the night; the way his pupils dilated whenever you wore one of his shirts with nothing underneath, the way he made love to you as soon as he went back home, loving you hard enough for you to feel the trace of his fingers and the taste of his mouth whenever he had to leave again. Fingers through his hair as his mouth swallowed your moans, fingertips digging on your burning skin, teeth sinking on the flesh as he took you to paradise.

The way you found relief in his lips, kissing like there was no tomorrow and feeling like you couldn't get enough of each other. His tongue making you delirious, electrifying every inch of your skin.

Everything that came out of his mouth was dripping with honey, because he never wanted to see you upset, because he was your serotonin, because he simply was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you were the same for him.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

That’s why you couldn’t process the words that were falling from his mouth that night, after a month of not seeing each other for his comeback and promotions, he had come to your house, but as soon as you met his gaze, you knew something was wrong.

But you never thought it’d be something so horrible.

He had appeared at your place to tell you he had kissed a female back dancer a week before.

“No.” You laughed humorlessly as you shook your head. “It’s impossible. That did not happen.”

His eyes were filled with hurt and remorse, the more he noticed your denial, the worse he felt.

“y/n… I- I’m so sorry… Fuck I’m sorry. I swear I love you. I’m such an asshole.”

“Joshua, please stop. This is not a funny joke.”

“How can you think I would joke with something like this?” He asked in frustration, running his fingers through his hair.

And you were well aware of it not being a joke in the slightest. The way you could feel cold sweat running down your spine and your stomach churn kept trying to pull your feet back to the ground. But you would try to trick the fate and desperately conjure the truth you wanted to take place.

“Because there’s no way you’d do something like that. You love me, right? You’ve done nothing but show me how much you do.”

Joshua swallowed, tears burning his eyes and threatening to fall.

“I do love you. More than anything.” He assured. “That’s why I’m here, that’s why I can’t stand the idea of what I did behind your back. I kissed someone else while you stayed home and gave me all of your trust.” He repeated. “I regret it every second because I know how much I just fucked up… But I can’t cope with the idea of you trying to dismiss it. I don’t deserve it.”

"Joshua"

He shook his head, stepping closer and grabbing your hands in his.

"Please, please don't give me a chance to stay by your side because I will not hesitate to take it and I don't deserve to be with someone like you." His voice was so sweet, so subtle despite of him saying something so devastating. His hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind you ear like he always did, retreating as soon as the guilt attacked him again. "You're so beautiful, so smart, sweet and bright and I'm so, so in love with you. It kills me to know I just ruined everything with the woman I love the most in such a dumb way."

You noticed the way his eyes were getting watery, another thing that made you realize how real it was. You wanted to hate him and tell him how much of a dick he was, but nothing came out of your mouth. You just couldn't, although you knew you should have, you could not bring yourself to hate him.

“You- No, listen Joshua…” You trailed off, heart finally breaking in a million pieces as you tried your best to convince yourself that everything was nothing but a twisted dream. “I know you would never hurt me like that. You would never cheat on me. Why would you? That’s ridiculous! You know that I'd do anything for you, right? You know that I love you more than anything. We’ve always had this chemistry, this peaceful and beautiful relationship. You’ve never given me any reasons to be jealous or to feel insecure, someone like that wouldn’t go against his own preach.” You tried to reason, a bitter chuckle slipping from your lips as you wiped your tears “See, I know you’re just such a gentleman that you’d rather put the blame on your shoulders than say she was the one who took advantage of you and kissed you. You’re a gorgeous guy, it must be hard for people not to throw themselv-"

“Why are you trying so desperately to excuse my actions?" He interrupted you in distress. "Babe, I- I don’t deserve it. I was the one who kissed her. While we danced the atmosphere got tense, the adrenaline did not help, and I just had the impulse.” Joshua said lowly, the knot in his throat becoming thicker and making it hard for him to breathe. “I’m so sorry... Why can't you just blame me for what I did? Just tell me how much of a piece of shit I am, slap me, tell me you don't want to see me again. Call me a dickhead, the worst thing that happened to you, I'll take it all, because I fucked up.”

You forced yourself to step back, the air in your lungs slowly fading away as the void in your chest grew bigger.

“No... I- I can't... Because you would never do something so vile.” You smiled, not noticing the way your tears were already streaming down your cheeks. "You wouldn't throw all the beautiful things between us out of the window just to get your damn dick wet. Not when you told me so many times how you'd never want anyone else but me and I believed you because you looked me in the eyes."

Joshua pressed his eyes shut and took a deep, shaky breath as he stepped closer, but you stepped back.

"I do not want anyone else but you, but I stopped thinking and just let my primal self take control instead of considering what I got to lose."

"No!" You shouted. "You wouldn't! You're perfect!"

Joshua lowered his gaze to the floor, hands ballin into fists.

“I’m not perfect… I never was, I never will. No one is.” He whispered. "That's why I need to go before I keep hurting you. If you ask me to stay I will, and I can not let you accept me back."

And then you knew. The idea you had engraved in your head about love being a real fairytale was long gone, cause all it did was break, burn and end.

Your sweet boyfriend, the same who used to whisper how much he loved you against your lips, the same who washed your hair for you, the same who looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, was the same one who had stabbed you in the back.

Your lip quivered, and Joshua wanted desperately to wipe your tears away and hold you in his arms, but how could he? When he was the one who had hurt you in the first place, how could he ever fix up a heart he let down? He did not deserve to touch you ever again.

With a shaky breath, you forced the words out of your throat.

“That’s where the problem is, Joshua.” You said, voice cracking as his brows pulled together in confusion. “That’s why facing the truth will destroy every part of my being, that's why I will never be able to trust anyone again, that's why I don't want you to walk out the door. If you do, everything will be real, and the thing that would hurt the most is to realize all this time I stopped believing in my instincts, because I thought you were different, because I've always known perfection does not exist…" You explained, a small sob falling from your mouth and cutting you out before you continued. "But to me, you were perfect.”

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momsopposed2theoccult · 3 years

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It’s come to my attention that a good majority of people on this website have a really poor understanding of the conflict between Toph and Katara in “The Chase.” As somebody who loves both characters and their friendship, this irritates me. Without further ado, let’s unpack that in what is in theory supposed to be a meta but turned out more like a rant.

“Katara was hostile towards Toph because the fact that she’s a gender non-conforming girl made Katara uncomfortable because Katara is obsessed with gender roles.”

Alright, so right off the bat this is just... completely idiotic and clearly fuelled by an agenda (and likely also a lot of projection). First of all, how is Katara of “I don’t want to heal, I want to fight!” fame “obsessed with gender roles?” There’s an entire episode in Book One dedicated to Katara refusing to conform to societal norms for women in the Northern Water Tribe! Katara routinely calls Sokka out on his misogynistic bullshit! (Mind you I adore Sokka but he could be a little twerp at times and Katara was 100% right to challenge him on it) Katara is the feminist icon of ATLA! The fact that people act like Katara is some sort of conservative tradwife who loves gender roles instead of the outspoken feminist and political activist she is makes me incredibly angry.

Second of all, Katara was extremely kind and welcoming towards Toph at first. She gently encouraged her to join in with the group as they all set up camp together as opposed to setting up her own private camp. It’s only when Toph refuses to comply with her that Katara begins to get irritated. Mind you, Toph has her reasons for this, something I’ll get to in a minute, but from Katara’s perspective (key word here is perspective) she’s just being an annoying little stubborn, selfish, lazy, anti-social, entitled brat. Of course we the audience find out later that this isn’t the case at all (or at least in theory we should find out later but apparently some people on here skipped that part), but for all her many talents Katara is not a mind reader and has no way of knowing what’s going on inside Toph’s head, nor does she know her well enough yet to fully grasp the context behind why Toph acts the way she does. Katara is somebody who greatly values community and believes in teamwork, so Toph turning down her warm welcome in favour of “carrying her own weight” likely felt like a slap in the face. Not to mention that she’s already emotionally exhausted from having to constantly mother Aang and Sokka. If I were Katara, I likely would have reacted the same way.

Oh and I agree that the “the stars look beautiful tonight, too bad you can’t see them, Toph” comment was out of line, but it doesn’t make her a horrible person. It makes her a 14 year old, and 14 year olds can be nasty, especially sleep deprived 14 year olds. Katara is otherwise a very kind and compassionate person. Other characters have said worse than that. Hell, Toph herself has said worse than that. That being said, it was a deeply hurtful comment and I do like to imagine that she apologized for it off-screen.

“Toph is a lazy, entitled, and classist spoiled rich brat who just didn’t want to do chores and expected other people to wait on her.”

This is another one that makes me roll my eyes and ask if they even watched the show. First of all, the presumption that Toph is a lazy or entitled person is just... laughable. I feel like people forget that Toph isn’t actually an earthbending prodigy in the way that Azula is a firebending prodigy (I could say more about Azula and how her belief that she was the unshakeable prodigal daughter ultimately caused her downfall and how by the end of the series Zuko is arguably a better firebender than her but this isn’t a meta about Azula and Zuko, now is it?). Nah. Toph was a sheltered kid who discovered she had the ability to earthbend, was told that she could never become great at it because she was blind, and in response said FUCK THAT and decided to work her ass off until she was not only great but the very greatest all thanks to her crazy, stupid, off-the-charts nerve, drive, grit, ambition, and desire to prove people wrong about her. Does that sound like a lazy person to you? Believe me when I say that you do not achieve that kind of skill level by sitting around on your ass and expecting to have things handed to you. And entitled? Don’t make me laugh. Toph hates having things handed to her, that’s one of her defining characteristics.

As for the implication that she’s classist and enjoys basking in her family’s wealth and being waited on...... are you stupid? Did you even watch the show? Toph absolutely despises everything about her parents’ lifestyle. Growing up like that was traumatizing and restrictive for her. We’re talking about a girl who likes to play around in the mud for fuck’s sake. Toph does not care how much money you have. She never wanted any to begin with. She even says it herself; “I guess I shouldn’t be complaining. They gave me everything I could have wanted. But they never gave me what I actually needed - their love.” Not to mention that she easily could have continued to freeload off her parents wealth but instead chose to sneak out of the house and make her own money doing what she did best; disproving people’s assumptions about her earthbending. Oh and I’ve seen someone point this out before but WWE is generally considered a “low brow” activity that “proper” people frown upon and shouldn’t associate themselves with. Toph fucking loved it. I don’t know how seriously people take the comics, as they often miss the mark when it comes to characterization (Toph’s, however, was generally pretty accurate), but there’s a part in The Rift where Sokka asks her when she’s going to start charging people to learn metalbending and she gets all serious and flat out tells him that she will never do such a thing, because money doesn’t matter to her. Sharing her one true passion with the world is what matters to her. Oh and the part where she basically tells a bunch of rich and sleazy businessmen to fuck off and “stop thinking about money and start thinking about people’s lives” is just... *chef’s kiss* Sorry my thoughts here are so incoherent but this take is so piss poor and makes me so angry that I don’t even know where to start. As for “Toph enjoys being waited on” I just- *sigh* Toph has such a visceral and defensive reaction to any implication that she is unable to take care of herself. Like I said earlier, that’s one of her defining characteristics as well as the reason for her behaviour in “The Chase.” Where are people getting these takes?

You wanna know why Toph acted the way she did in The Chase? Well, first let’s recap her life up to this point. Toph was born the blind daughter of one of the wealthiest families in the Earth Kingdom. From day one her parents treated her like glass due to her disability. She was not allowed to leave her house unsupervised, and even then she was only permitted to walk around the gardens of her home. Every day of her life she was pitied, gaslit, babied, ignored, emotionally neglected, and made to feel ashamed of herself. She was not allowed to make any decisions for herself. She was not allowed to do anything for herself. She was not allowed to talk to other children. She had no friends. Other people didn’t even know she existed on account that her parents kept her locked up in her own home and didn’t tell anybody about her because they were so ashamed to have a blind daughter. Flash forward to “The Chase.” Toph begins to set up her own camp separate from the rest of the Gaang. Considering that she flat out was not socialized as a child and hadn’t even interacted with anybody her own age prior to a few days ago, this is understandable. So then Katara comes up to her and asks her why she isn’t setting up camp with the others as if she’s somehow incapable of taking care of herself (again, this is just what happened from her perspective) like she’s her mom or something and it just angers her because she thought she joined this group to get away from all that and she doesn’t understand how friends work because she’s never had one, all she knows is that apparently this girl thinks she isn’t capable of taking care of herself, and that infuriates her because it’s the exact same bullshit she thought she was running away from.

There’s a lot more I could say about this but I’m sick of typing so yeah in conclusion both of these takes are piss poor and I’m sick of having to read them. Stan Toph, Katara, and their friendship.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #katara #toph beifong #nora speaks

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actualmythicalcreature · 3 years

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I am indigenous. It is Canada Day. I will not be celebrating. You shouldn't either.

They took my gran from her family, young. They tried to take them as young as possible so that they wouldn't remember home. People tried to hide their kids- but they were murdered for it by the Indian agents. They would burn down houses they suspected had children hidden inside. They took my gran, beat her until she spoke English, abused her for years, and then when she was a teenager and had assimilated efficiently they sent her "home". Except, those kids never really could go home. They didn't speak the language. They hadn't seen their parents in years. Some of them didn't know where home was anymore. They didn't share the culture anymore. They were made to believe that their very blood was tainted. Dirty. They were told they were savages- a word thats casually used today like its no big deal. So like most of the kids who managed to survive the starvation, beatings and sexual abuse - my gran went to the city to try to live the life of a white woman. But no amount of beating and brainwashing would make her less brown. She wanted to shed herself of being an ///Indian. At the time, the easiest way to shed her legal status and be seen as a person and citizen, was to marry a white man. So that's what she did. She bore his children. She didn't tell them their history, and hoped they would pass as white. She didn't know how to care for them, the only thing close to a parent she could remember were the nuns and priests who abused her. Abuse is a cycle. She never had a chance to raise her children in a healthy way, because she wasn't healthy. One night when my father was a teenager, she just left. She couldn't do it anymore. I dont know what she was looking for but I hope she found it.

My father, who hated his mother for the ways she had been broken and in turn broke him, became the first generation removed from residential school, but still effected by it. He moved far away from his ancestral lands. He turned to drugs to cope with his serious mental illness, including PTSD. He got my white mother pregnant when they were teenagers- and after less than a year of trying to raise a child with no living example of how to do that right, he left us. He's spent his whole life floating around trying to find home again. He probably never will.

I was raised without my culture, without our stories, without our language. Residential school worked on my family. I also grew up with mental illness. Parental abuse and neglect. I also turned to drugs. I was expelled from high-school. I was even homeless for awhile. Luckilly, I was found by a school for indigenous kids - run out of our local friendship center, by indigenous people. There was only 24 students. They taught us about our culture. Made sure we had food. We had lunch every day with elders from our comunities who told us stories from our ancestors that would have died with them otherwise. I clawed my way back into the culture that was stolen from me. I learned to make drums. I learned which herbs to make into tea to help my cramps. I felt care, and community - for the first time. I found home again. A school for indigenous children run by white folks ruined my family - and coming full circle, it was a school for indigenous children run by indigenous people who put me back together again.

In 2008, when I was 18, I sat in a room with dozens of survivors as they listened to then primeinister Steven Harper - apologize to survivors of residential schools. I cried with them. I listened to the stories they told. I remember them talking about the mass graves, ans how meaningless the apology was, when we still had stolen children who hadn't come home yet.

Not just the bones and bodies buried at the schools - but every child whose sense of home had been stolen. Every child forced into fostercare. Every child that should have been raised traditionally but whose parents couldn't remember how. Every queer child whose parents cast them out due to the religion of our abusers. Every "adopted" child of the 60's scoop. Every woman and man who wanted children but who were forcibly sterilized by the governments eugenics program. Every missing and murdered indigenous woman. Every mixed child whose parents were afraid to let them be indigenous in a country where that is inherently dangerous.

We'll start with the bones, so that the spirits of those lost children can find peace at home with their people. But I will not celebrate 'Canada Day' again, until every stolen child is returned home. This land is OUR home, and we deserve to feel at home on it. I ended up graduating with honors, and a three month old baby boy who I have raised with as much culture as I could claw back. He's 11 now. I homeschool him. We smudge together, grow herbs, and play our drums - and he knows that home will always be right next to me, and no one can take that from him. It took my family over 60 years to get home again, after residential school. And we're the lucky ones.

Don't celebrate Canada Day, until every child they stole, is home again. We shouldn't rest, until they can.

____

This is all I'd like to say on the matter. Please don't request additional emotional labor from me.

#personal #canada day #indigenous #residential schools

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

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A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-22)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Anxiety, feels, light flirting?

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: Hey peeps, just wanted to thank you guys for all the love. Y’all are awesome! <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Thank you, babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Jesus, kid! Don’t you ever pull that one on me again, okay?”

Max was trying to escape his embrace, but Sam didn’t budge. His heart was still beating out a disjointed rhythm.

“I didn’t do anything!” Max protested.

Alex was quick to interject. “You ran out on me.”

Max turned in the circle of his arms glaring at Alex. “Only because you fell asleep.”

Alex’s face got all red and she sneaked a nervous glance at Sam.

“She’s got school in the morning,” Sam told Max. “She was tired. That doesn’t mean you can run out on her.”

“This isn’t the first time either,” Alex put in, emboldened by Sam’s support. “He ran to her on Sunday as well.”

“What’s this, Max?” Sam didn’t want to make his voice stern, but the fear wasn’t helping. Alex had called him towards the end of his meeting to tell him she couldn’t find Max. Sam’s heart had dropped through the ground at the mere thought. By the time he could ask Chase to pull out his car- Sam’s was still parked in the campus- a second call from Alex had already informed him that Max was back and okay. But Sam couldn’t stay put. He’d made Chase drive him back anyway.

“She’s my friend.” Max muttered.

“You’ve only met her twice!” Alex accused.

Max threw Alex a betrayed look, mumbling to himself.

Sam rubbed his face with his hand. “What’s happening?”

Alex started to say something, but Max interjected. “I want to tell him!”

“Alright, go on.”

Max told him about a new friend he’d made in one of the buildings along the playground, and that he was going to see her on Monday again.

Sam shot a look at Alex to confirm and she nodded encouragingly. Falling asleep on the watch might have been a one time thing, otherwise Alex was both smart and thorough. She wouldn’t have agreed to anything that wasn’t safe for Max.

“I can go, right?”

“Only if you promise to never go out by yourself.”

Max made an excited sound. “Yes!”

“Okay, enough of this moping,” Chase announced. He had been standing uncharacteristically quiet, watching the drama unfold. “Alex gets to sleep, Max gets his date and Sam gets to chill. What does Chase get?”

Sam turned to him. “What do you want?”

“Food. I want food.”

Alex waved to Max, who didn’t acknowledge it. He was still mad about ratting him out. “Bye, Sam. Bye, Mr. Lincoln.”

Sam nodded, and Chase waved at her cheerfully.

Sam let go of Max, not really looking him in the eyes, lest he should sense just how freaked out Sam was. That’s not what kids should see in their parents- the fear of being incompetant. Sam had learned as much from Dean. His older brother had been absolutely confident in every decision he’d made for Sam. It was only in the later years that Sam realised how freaked out Dean must have been attempting to raise Sam, even with Bobby and Karen’s help. They were all always second guessing themselves.

The next hour was spent on a call with Stacey. She debriefed Sam about the end of the meeting, promising to forward the transcripts after she was done with editing them. He was lucky to have found someone as efficient as her. She was a blessing. Sam appreciated that her first words were of concern for Max. Stacey had designed Sam’s schedule in such a foolproof manner that Max was never neglected. He couldn’t have been more grateful. To think that they had started their work relationship disliking each other.

Sam took his time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of his anxiety. Just the very thought of losing Max was enough to decapitate him. Later, as he diced the bell-peppers, his eyes kept going to the sofa where Max was playing connect four with Chase, who was sucking bigtime. It was something they did at least once a week. Right now, Chase was going on at length about how awesome the cookies were, that he was stealing from a jar. Sam didn’t remember buying any cookies at all.

A sting in his finger made him hiss. Looking down, he saw blood spreading into the bell-pepper pieces and the surface of the chopping board.

The next minute small hands were taking his finger, blowing on the cut and guiding him towards the sink.

“You never pay attention!” Max admonished.

“What do you care?” Sam muttered, washing his finger under the steady stream. The cut wasn’t too deep. “It’s not like you don’t love worrying me.”

Max huffed. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“No, I’m not. Seriously, Max, do you want me to stop going to work? How am I supposed to concentrate on anything if you’re going to be a flight risk?”

“I wasn't running away from home, okay? I just went to see my friend.”

Sam knew he was overreacting but what else was there to do? Alex had sounded so frantic on the phone.

“Who’s this girl anyway?” Sam eyed his son, turning off the tap. “Is it Lucy from school?”

“Ewww nooooo!” Max cringed, making a face. “I don’t like Lucy!”

“Of course you don’t,” Sam grinned. He added more seriously, “Don’t push Alex, okay? She might decide to not babysit you anymore.”

“It’s your fault really,” Max shrugged. Chase who had gone to retrieve the first aid box- it was ridiculous he even knew where that was in the house- handed Sam a bandaid.

Sam gave Max an incredulous look. “How is any of this my fault?”

“If you got me a mom, we wouldn’t need a babysitter!”

Sam barely even had the time to pick his jaw up when Chase started howling with laughter. He raised his hand and Max high-fived him.

“Wha- what?” He spluttered. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I told you, you had this coming, Samuel,” Chase chuckled, superior. “Even your boy seems to be scoring more dates here. And look at the little daredevil sneaking out to get em. What’re you waiting for? Divine intervention?” He lowered his voice just for Sam’s ears. “Even Steve from HR gets laid more than you. And he smells like Kleenex!”

Sam glared at his friend. “That’s it. Get out of my house! I’m not responsible for feeding you.”

“Now, now,” Chase placated, putting his hands on either side of Sam’s shoulders from behind and giving them a squeeze. “Look at these muscles. Such a waste to not have beautiful arms draped around them.”

“Well, there’s always you!”

Chase huffed, drawing back. “You don’t pay me any attention.”

Max giggled.

Sam turned to his son. “Max, having a mom doesn’t mean you won’t have a babysitter. Working mothers are a thing!”

“He’ll, at least, have quality food,” Chase put in. “All you feed him is vegetables.”

“You know what? I’m done with the both of you. Go back to that game you were playing.”

“No,” Chase shook his head. “This is more fun. Why aren’t you asking Jess out?”

“You know why.” Sam wasn’t as patient this time as he had been the last ten times, since Chase had been badgering him every damn minute. “Go wash your hands, Max. And help Uncle Chase set up the table.”

Max knew he was being dismissed, so he made a whole show of slowly dragging himself from the kitchen counter and heading upstairs at the speed of a snail. Once he was surely out of earshot, Sam hissed at his friend. “Drop it, Chase! You know it’s not going to happen. Besides, the last time was embarrassing enough. I don’t know how to face her.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “She’s a grown ass woman and super hot. You’re lucky she’s into you,” He paused, the sly grin dancing in his eyes. “That was like three or four years ago. She must be long past it.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I don’t know how else to convince you,” Chase sighed, dropping all the teasing at once. “Jess is successful, beautiful and so damn smart. If a girl like that can’t move you, I don’t know what else to do for you.”

“You can always give up.”

“No chance.” Chase ran his fingers through his hair. “I just keep trying to understand what’s holding you back.”

It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “I’m married.”

“No, you’re not!” Chase argued, with more emotion than Sam had expected, enough to make him face his friend. “This isn’t marriage, Sam. This is you holding on to something dead with both your hands. Let go before your hands start decaying.”

“Don’t say that.” The pain in his own voice depressed Sam.

Chase grimaced. “What would I not give to see this girl! Who is she? Some supermodel? Is she gilded out of diamonds or something?”

It was no point going in circles with Chase over this. Sam knew from years of experience that he wouldn’t give up.

“What was her name again?”

“It’s-” Sam’s gaze shifted to the base of the staircase and found Max standing there, face blank. “We’ll talk later,” Sam whispered, wondering how much Max had heard.

The dinner was a quiet affair. Sam knew it wasn’t so because Chase and Max were appreciating the sensory overload of how amazing his stir fry was. Chase was sulking and Max was lost in thought. After Chase had left for the night, Sam set to cleaning the kitchen. Max came to sit by him on the island counter, picking out a cookie from the jar Chase had abandoned.

“How was your day?” Max asked and despite himself Sam chuckled. There was something so odd about the question coming out of a six and a half year old.

“T’was alright,” Sam told him. Most of it had been very boring, except for the evening scare and the morning lecture in which he was mere feet away from Y/N, every cell in his body hyper aware of the fact that she was there. It was pathetic and Sam knew it. “I do have a hearing tomorrow. I think we’ll win this one.”

“What’s it about?”

“Property fraud. Very interesting.”

Wiping the kitchen top, and hanging the rag on the hook over the sink, Sam came to sit by his son. “How was your day?”

“Very interesting.” Max smiled, but didn’t elaborate. Not wanting to flare up his earlier irritation, Sam didn’t ask him for the details either. Instead, he dipped his hand in the jar and drew out a Choco chip cookie.

“Is it because of me that you don’t go out on dates?”

Max’s voice was small, diminished even and it made Sam draw in a quick breath.

“Max!” He exhaled. “Why would you say that?”

His boy wriggled his fingers. “I don’t know. Uncle Chase is right. You don’t have any fun. I know it’s because you have to spend all your free time with me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam stated outright, shaking his head. “I know you don’t because not one second of the time spent with you has been a sacrifice. You’re my son. You’ve got to know that I would do anything for you.”

“Except get me a mom.”

“Mom’s don’t grow on trees or fall out skies, Max.” Sam reasoned trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “And don’t you ever say that I don’t have fun in life. We have fun, don’t we? I love that and wouldn’t change it for any girl in the world.”

“Not even for Y/N?”

Sam faltered, aghast. Maybe it was because he was thinking about Y/N so much already, or because Max didn’t usually bring her up, but somewhere inside him there was a nagging feeling that he was missing something here. Max’s question was natural in the context of the conversation… but the very conversation felt out of context. Max knew very well what he meant to Sam, and even if a part of him thought that Sam was sacrificing for his sake- Sam fervently wished that wasn’t the case- the Max he knew would never bring it up this conversationally.

So he answered with complete conviction. “No. Not even for Y/N.”

“And you get this through your head, Max,” he continued, voice pained despite his efforts. “You and I are already a complete family. I love you with everything that I have. So long as we are together, you’ll make do with just me, won’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

Sam ruffled Max’s hair, and kissed his brow, rankled by his words. Regardless of what Sam had just said, wouldn’t it be nice for Max to have a mom? Even in his imagination the face was perfectly clear, the vision already there. He’d be lying to himself if he said that over the years he hadn’t thought about her holding Max, laughing with him. There was only ever one face that completed Sam’s daydream- Y/N’s. But Sam also knew just how impossible it was. Y/N wouldn’t even think of the aftermath of an accident, imagining her as a motherly figure was simply cruel. So much that the whiplash of it hit Sam’s conscience. It was why he hadn’t mentioned Max to her.

Trying to reign in his thoughts he absentmindedly took a bite of the cookie in his hand, chewing as he tried to dislodge the idea of Max and Y/N. Impossible… too painful, his mind screamed.

Abruptly, he stopped.

“Hey, Max? Sam asked slowly, “Where did you get these cookies?”

“Umm, those girl scouts came over this afternoon,” he said, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “I asked Alex to buy. Is that okay?”

“You sure these are girl scout cookies?”

“Yep.”

Eating the rest of the cookie in one bite, Sam jumped down from the counter and turned to his boy. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t think like that again,” Sam pleaded. “That you’re keeping me from anything. You saved me, kiddo. I would have been barely worth anything without you.”

“Same,” Max quipped. And despite the absolute horror of the situation, and how true both of their words were, Sam found himself snorting.

“Enough with the black comedy,” he ordered, “Lets go brush your teeth.”

“Yessum.”

Max leapt into Sam’s arms, and he carried his boy out of the kitchen. Sam eyed the jar of cookies one last time before switching off the lights.

Friday, first day of Induction fair. It was going to be one long day tomorrow.

*******************

“Alright, everybody clear on what they’re supposed to be doing tomorrow?”

“It’s 11:30 in the night, Y/N,” Seth complained, “We aren’t going to be any more ready.”

“I’m sorry,” you waved apologetically. “You guys should go home, I’ll wrap up the rest. I’m just nervous.”

“It’ll be okay,” Madison came to your side, putting her arm around your shoulders. “Seth’s just kidding. Aren’t you?” She turned on the poor guy who shook his head and you snickered.

“Okay, pack up y’all!” You called out to the people in the background busy with the last checks on the sound system. “We’re going to have a blast tomorrow.”

Cheers went up around you. One by one everyone clapped you on your back, offered smiles and went their way; only Madison, Brad and Rebecca remained.

“Who are you taking with you to the Saturday night dance?” Brad asked.

Well crap! “A friend of mine,” you answered. You’d have to ask one of the guys if they were free Saturday evening.

“Hmm… Does this friend happen to go to Law school?”

“Nope!”

“We’ll at least have time for one dance,” Brad insisted, leaning next to you as you packed your bag. “Your friend won’t mind, will he?”

“Brad,” you sighed. “I’m clearly not your type.”

He put his hands up. “Hey, I’m not implying anything here, but if that’s what you got out of it…”

You ignored him, walking back towards Maddie. He kept up with you easily. “What about the dance? One dance is well deserved.”

“Okay, fine!” Better to just agree and get it done with. Brad left with a superior smirk and you wondered what was the deal with him.

“Brad’s a great guy,” Rebecca said. “I don’t know what kind of Prince Charming you’re waiting for that you keep turning him down at every opportunity.”

“I’m not waiting for anyone.” It was true. You had found someone who could put Prince Charming to shame and then you had lost him. Now, the most you could hope for was his friendship. The thinly veiled bitterness and longing in Rebecca’s voice when she spoke of Brad led you to believe that her dislike for you wasn’t reasonless after all.

At the quad, you stopped, letting the girls know that you’d be heading towards the library, to relieve Molly from her shift early. It was supposed to be your shift anyway, Molly was doing you a favor by subbing.

“I’ll come with you,” Madison quipped. She waved a goodbye to Rebecca and the two of you set towards the library, your footsteps echoing in the night.

Once Molly had left, Madison logged into one of the records PC’s and started working on the case studies for professor Whitman. Meanwhile, you logged into your mail to print out the schedules and itineraries for the speakers tomorrow.

Just as you were printing out the last set, your email pinged, alerting you to an email from Sam. It was ridiculous that your heart should leap out of your chest, especially when it was merely a reply to your assignment. It was past one, and Sam was still up checking coursework.

Oh, how you wanted to reply back, ask him why he was up this late. But this was an official email ID. It would be wrong to get personal here. Unreasonable as it was, you were miffed that you didn’t have Sam’s phone number. Friends should be able to call each other, right? You could always find it out from the directory, however, you were stubborn about getting it from him.

“Hey, I just heard back from Professor Winchester,” Madison whispered, even though there wasn’t anyone else in the library. “I scored a 21.5!”

“That’s great!” You smiled.

“What about you? Did you hear from him yet?”

“Just. Scored a 23.”

Madison scrunched her nose, “I bet that’s the highest.” She sounded rueful, but you knew she didn’t mean any ill. “You mind if I take a look at your paper?”

“Course not.”

Madison read through your document carefully. “I can see why he rated you this high. This is great work, Y/N! I wonder…”

“What?”

She looked bemused. “In my email, he’s specifically pointed out all the good things and complemented me for my good work. In your reply he’s only pointed out the one flaw that cost you the two marks. He’s not said one good word about the rest.”

Maybe he thought you would understand, or maybe he was just too tired. If not commenting on your essay earned him ten extra minutes of rest, you were very glad that he hadn't.

You shrugged at Madison. “Maybe he forgot.”

“That’s not done,” she frowned. “You should ask him tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

A glazed look came over Madison’s face. “Remember the first time we were alone here?”

“We’d been trying to research for Mr. Winchester’s first assignment,” you smiled.

“And ended up stalking him instead,” Madison winked. “After I went home that day, I read up more about that sensationalised case of his. Really gruesome, the whole deal. Never pinned him for the type of lawyer to take up a criminal law case, let alone homicides.”

“What’s there to fight for in a criminal homicide?” You wondered. “Isn’t that DA’s job?”

You remembered a little from what you had read with Madison that day, over a month ago. Twin homicides followed by a legal battle over property inheritance. The deceased’s brother vs. the deceased son. There were also connected matters of custodial rights, abuse charges and adoption.

“It was really scandalous, Y/N,” Madison said. “You wouldn’t know because you didn’t live in California. It was all over the papers and news in LA. Ralph Simmons was this bigshot producer, and his on and off girlfriend- both of them shot by some drug pimp. A whole big racket came out with it. I think Mr. Winchester moved out of LA to avoid the fanfare that followed him everywhere afterwards.”

“When was this?”

“Ummm… about two and half years ago,” Madison said.

So before he started teaching at Stanford, and before his job at Acton Griswold.

“Why would he leave a successful firm in LA and move base to SF?” You asked out loud. “That too after a successful stint? It doesn’t make sense.”

To your surprise, Madison laughed. “Oh, firms must be dying to have him. Even my dad offered. Apart from offering a junior partnership, Acton Gris must have paid him a ton of money. Besides, his working hours are more like a consultants, so he can manage classes. That’s a lot of relaxations- only someone with that sort of fanfare would have been able to negotiate a deal.”

It wasn’t the money. That much you knew. Something else had made Sam uproot his life in LA and move here.

“Uhg! I really want to work with him, Y/N,” Madison let out. “I really want the summer internship at Acton Gris.” Seeing your expression, she quickly added, “It’s not why you think. I mean sure he’s super hot and all that, but I’ve looked up to him for his ethics, and the way he thinks. He’s just such a great lawyer.”

“Sure is.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” She said in a defeated voice. “Rich girl with a firm to her name, who could get in Acton Gris by recommendation as a favor. What’s the big deal, right?”

“Maddie, I wasn’t thinking that-”

“It’s alright if you do. Everyone does.”

You placed your hand on top of hers. “I don’t care what everyone else thinks. I care about you. The Madison I know is intelligent and hardworking, who deserves whatever she sets her heart to. Law is a lucrative practice. As long as you aren’t screwing over someone else, you should use whatever means you can.”

Madison’s eyes welled up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I even have any real friends who care about me. Becca… Lace, Mer… they all feel like friendships of convenience than actual substance. You’re the only one I’m sure will be happy to see me succeed in life.”

Your heart reached out for Madison. She was a good person who didn’t deserve to feel this way. Slowly you reached out and put your arms around her. “Maddie,” You breathed in her hair, not knowing what else to say. You had always known she was hurting inside without her having told you. Her relations seemed frivolous to you, but by the looks of it, her family life wasn’t much good either. Deep down she was convinced that her parents, her brothers didn’t love her. What must it be like to live that way?

You’d never been rich in your life except for those short married months, but not for a minute had you questioned the love of any person you called family. How was one supposed to live on without having the assurance of being absolutely loved?

The way you’ve lived for the past six and a half years, a small voice whispered in your brain. You quelled it immediately.

“Madison,” you said firmly this time. “I love you. And I’ll always support you. To hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.”

She hugged you closer, and you felt her broken breaths against your body. She didn’t want you to see her cry, so you held on till all her tears had dried.

********

You probably looked exactly how you felt- sleepless and exhausted. The first half of day one had gone smoothly with all introductions in place. Over two hundred and fifty alumni had RSVP’d for the event and forty two had agreed to speak or participate in panel discussions. You had been told this was one of the biggest turnouts ever. Instead of feeling like you had succeeded, you just felt more scared. Organised activity wasn’t your cup of tea. Right about then you were questioning how you even ended up heading this committee.

Everyone seemed to be asking for you, everyone had some or the other work with you and the tasks were never ending. The first time that you got a minute to sit was towards the end of lunch break. You dropped into the seat at the far end of the auditorium, head in your hands.

“Here!”

You turned your face to see Sam sitting next to you with a bottle of water in his hand. Unlike his usual self, he was dressed in a light knit grey sweater and jeans today. His glasses hung from the V-shaped neckline, revealing just enough for you to see the glint of his chain. You were so exhausted, all you wanted to do was fall against his shoulder and close your eyes for just two seconds. Sighing, you took the bottle from him and drank to your heart’s content.

“Maybe doing the late night shift at the library wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

You frowned. “How do you know?”

“The register,” He said. “I went to the library in the morning to return my book.”

“I thought you were avoiding the library like the plague.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. You hoped the bitter edge in them wasn’t very obvious.

“I would come if I could, you know?”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked, belligerent, “Too scared to go back home in the dark?”

You knew it was unfair to put him in a spot like this. He had a home, his own bed. Why would he spend his nights at the library just because you worked there? Just because he hadn’t talked to you all that much lately, or given you his phone number, didn’t mean you had the right to be irritated at him.

“Y/N-” he sighed, and before he could add on to that, he was interrupted.

“There you are!”

Chase Lincoln put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

You straightened your expression under the pretense of drinking more water, and handed the bottle back to Sam.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, standing up, “I must hurry back now. If you’ll excuse me.”

Sam stood up with you. The errant thought of resting against his shoulder made an appearance but you shoved it away violently.

“Wait,” Sam put his hand out to block you. You looked around you to see if anyone else had noticed. No one but Chase.

“Let me introduce the two of you,” he said.

“Wait, I know you,” Chase interjected. “You work with Molly, right? And you’re heading the organising committee.”

“Chase,” Sam said with gravity, making his friend focus, the green eyes sharpened on you.

Exhaling slowly, Sam turned to you. “This is Chase Lincoln. He works with me at Acton Griswold.” You heard the unsaid words- ‘He’s the one I was talking with that day in the coffee shop; my friend.”

“Chase.” Sam’s voice was heavy, the way Atlas’s might have sounded after a millennia of holding up the earth. There was defeat in it. “This- this is Y/N.”

Each time Sam uttered your name, a warmth settled in your chest. You suspected it was just your eternally besotted mind making up the idea that his voice grew softer when he said it. Apparently, that wasn’t the case, for Chase’s eyes narrowed as he took in the look on Sam’s face, then went wide in a split second. His head rapidly moved from you to Sam in a matter of moments, before his jaw dropped.

“S-... Your… “ Speech seemed to have temporarily evaded Chase.

“No diamonds,” Sam murmured.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted for you from two rows down. “There’s a problem with the mic. You need to check it out.”

“Ex- Excuse me,” you mumbled, hurrying away from Chase’s astounded stare. Maybe he knew it all, that didn’t particularly surprise you. What did surprise you was how Sam had decidedly made the introduction- as if Chase had to know.

As it turned out, the mic had only been disconnected. It was working absolutely fine. You were still grateful to have been removed from Chase’s presence, glad that you didn’t have to wait around to witness his judgement.

The rest of the day flew by faster than you could have guessed. Most of the heavy panel discussions were scheduled for the first day itself. You were blown away by the immense knowledge and expertise of those people, which was a good thing because you desperately needed a distraction.

You only saw Sam afterwards, once everything was over and the alumni were all catching up with each other, like old friends, reminiscing about the time they had spent together. Even though it was a lot of people there, your eyes kept going to Sam in his thin sweater, in a deep conversation with an aged man, who was laughing at something Sam had said.

“One down, two more days to go,” mumbled Madison. She was leaning against your back. “Can we just sleep here?”

“I told you to come home with me last night,” Rebecca stated, appearing out of nowhere. This time she had Lacey and Meredith with her. “Why did you have to stay up at the library?”

Usually Madison would’ve at least tried to answer. Today, her forehead and nose just dug deeper into your back. You pursed your lips so the smile wouldn’t spill over. She was taking a stand for how she deserved to be treated.

“Well, shit!” Lacey said. “Looks like I wasn’t wrong after all.”

Rebecca groaned. “Ugh she looks like an uptight bimbo.”

You didn’t pay attention to their conversation till Meredith said, “She’s definitely into professor Hotchester.”

Your head snapped up in Sam’s direction, but he was out of the straight line of your vision. Obscuring him was a girl, dressed in a pretty blue chiffon top and tight fitting pencil skirt. Her five inches long pumps caught the light of the setting sun and gleamed. She was tall and beautiful, statuesque in the way a swimsuit model is, her blonde hair fell to the middle of her back in perfect curls.

As you watched, she threw her hands around Sam’s neck and hugged him tightly. He willingly embraced her, too. You chanced a glance of the smile on his face as she disentangled and laughed, touching Sam’s chest lightly with her hand.

“Yeah, there’s something there,” Lacey whistled.

“Wonder who she is,” Madison whispered, so only you could hear.

You didn’t need to wonder who it was, you already knew. Jessica Moore. Sam’s Ex-girlfriend.

*******************

A/N 2: I kinda really like the next chapter. I think it speaks more about about the sort of writer and person that I am than most things I’ve written yet. Can’t wait to share it with y’all.

So any predictions? ;)

Thank you for all the reblogs and comments! Not gonna lie, life’s been kicking my butt a lot lately. Believe it or not, all of your love really helps <3

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

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Protection - Chapter 2

Summary: August might’ve made a pretty bad impression on Mia, however, will she help him when he has a slight problem?

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

The next morning I finally decide to do the smart thing: I get up at seven in the morning, to clean my apartment, start prepping some meals and work through the piles of laundry I have neglected these past few days.

Okay, I didn’t necessarily do that because I decided to be a productive woman for once and try to get most out of my day, but it is mostly because I couldn’t sleep anymore. I have been having nightmares since I can remember, which is probably since the fatal car crash that killed not only my parents, but also my brothers.

At least, that is what I’m told.

I remember crashing, I remember being out of the car and waiting for the emergency services, but I don’t remember my family maybe running away, their bodies being dragged away from me. They could be anywhere, really.

Dead or alive.

But ever since that crash, I have nightmares. Sometimes there is a loud crash or a fire I can’t escape or I’m drowning.

Usually I wake up at least once—but mostly twice—in the middle of the night, but last night I slept through. That seems nice, but I was woken up abruptly, since it felt like I was falling off a building.

While I’m putting the salad in the containers and I place them neatly in the fridge, I hear someone knocking on my door. This early? What idiot is up already and wants to bother me? I walk to the door and once I open it, a nasty surprise awaits me.

‘What do you want?’ I ask the one and only August Walker. After yesterday, I have decided that I don’t want to be his friendly neighbor. He hurt me feelings and doesn’t deserve anymore of my kindness.

‘My heater is broken,’ he simply announces.

And for that he knocks on my door? ‘Sucks to be you,’ I tell him.

‘I only have one blanket and my other clothes are coming in later this morning, just as the mechanic.’

I’m flabbergasted to say the least. ‘And you are sharing this information with me, because…?’ I know damn well why he is sharing this with me, but I’m not that easy.

August sighs, visibly annoyed. ‘Because I was hoping I could stay here with you for a while.’

I bark out a laugh. ‘Are you kidding me? After what you said to me yesterday, you honestly think I would let you in my apartment? I would be bat shit crazy if I did that. You insulted me, August.’

‘I barely insulted you.’

He has some nerves. ‘You said you hated women’s soccer to a professional female soccer player.’ I give him a do I need to explain any further-look.

‘You told me my moustache made me look like a pedophile.’

I cock an eyebrow. ‘That was only after you insulted me. Had you never been mean to me, I would’ve kept it to myself. But that is beyond the point, really. The real question is: why are you bothering me?’

He clenches his jaw. He probably thought that with his brooding look and broad build, he could intimidate me into letting him in my house. Well, he thought wrong. ‘I just want to stay here for a few hours, till eleven. I won’t bother you, I promise, but I’m really cold.’

I lean against the doorframe, as I check my watch. ‘That is three hours,’ I tell him. ‘I can barely deal with you for three minutes, let alone three hours. The answer is no. Just fuck off, will you?’

August wants to hold back a laugh, but fails miserably. ‘You sure mean that,’ he chuckles. I know I shouldn’t think like this, but he looks actually very friendly when he laughs, even if he is laughing at me. ‘Listen, I might’ve made a bad impression on you yesterday.’

‘You might’ve? Goodness gracious, do you have any self reflection? You definitely made a bad impression.’

He sighs, but almost has something from a growl. ‘It’s a few hours, Mia. What’s the big deal?’

What’s the big deal? This man has got quite some guts, it’s almost admirable. ‘Well,’ I say, incapable of saying no to him, ‘if I can get an apology, you can stay here. Saying sorry is not that hard, even you can do it.’

‘I don’t do apologies.’

Of course he doesn’t. I’m not even surprised. ‘And I don’t give shelter to my shitty neighbors, even if it’s only for three hours. Goodbye August. Please, freeze to death.’

I want to close the door, but he simply places his hand on the flat surface. Fuck, he is strong, those arms certainly are not lying. The battle August Walker vs Mia Makaruku is a quick one and not in my favor, I can tell you that. ‘I don’t want to freeze to death, so I’m gonna say this one time and one time only, so you better listen carefully: I’m sorry I was rude.’

I smile. ‘See, it wasn’t that hard. I also liked it that you really sincerely apologized, meaning in from the bottom of your heart.’

I know I’m pushing the limits here. August glares at me, but even through the death glare he is sending me, I can actually see some humanity in his light orbs. I actually feel a bit sorry for him. I know, that surprises me too.

‘Come on. Just don’t bother me too much and the second the mechanic is here, I want you out of my apartment.’

‘Doable.’ I have barely stepped aside, when he barges into my apartment. He has the audacity to plop on my couch, grab the remote and turn on the television.

‘Yes August, please make yourself at home. Do you want a coffee with that? Some homemade chocolate croissants? A fucking massage?’ I slam the door shut and when I look at him, I notice the smug smile on his face because of my offers. I let out a growl. ‘Don’t even think about it.’

Unbeknownst of the company, Bobo trots into the room. When his eyes land on the stranger on the couch, he arches his back with his hackles raised and hisses. I’m glad to know my furry companion thinks just as lowly of the—sort of—uninvited guest as I do. ‘I’m not a big fan of cates,’ August notes.

‘I’m almost assuming this is your first time you’re over at someones place,’ I say. ‘You sure know how to not behave yourself. If you don’t like him, go back to your own place.’

‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop. What do I do if he comes near me?’ August looks up at me. ‘Do I just hiss back?’

Thankfully I can manage to keep a straight face. ‘That’s an option,’ I tell him, as I walk back to my kitchen. Do I hiss back? It’s nearly endearing, especially since it’s coming from a tough looking guy like August Walker. I prepare my coffee machine and ask: ‘Do you want some coffee?’ While I don’t necessarily want him here, I might make most out of it. Besides, I can’t possibly imagine someone is as rude as him without a reason.

Maybe he had a shitty youth. I mean, I encountered my fair share of foster siblings and some of them were rude as hell, but when I learned about their family situation, prior to this foster home, I realized they had every reason to act like they did. While my coping mechanism is to charm my ass off and make a good impression on everyone (and I mean literally everyone), August’s way to dealing with his trauma’s can be to push people away. However, I do think he desperately wants to make a connection. Despite not totally getting it, he did come to me when his heater broke, so that must mean I’m maybe the only one who is trying to be nice to him? Give him a chance, while he might not deserve it?

Right?

‘Sure,’ August says, while keeping a close eye on Bobo, who stares at him with his back still arched. ‘What’s the cat’s name?’

‘Bobo,’ I answer him. ‘I got him from the shelter. Fun story: I was actually looking to adopt a dog, but when I walked passed Bobo’s cage, I couldn’t say no to him. Like it was an instant click between us.’

August doesn’t say anything, so apparently he doesn’t agree on this being a fun story. While the coffee is running, I walk back to the living room, but as I pass a mirror, I manage to hold in my gasp.

I look like crap! I’m still wearing my flannel pajamas that are actually three sizes too large for me and I actually don’t think I can call this frizzy mess on my head, hair. I also have not put on any moisturizer yet and it shows.

To kind of make myself a bit more presentable, I twist my hair in a bun, to sort of contain it.

Yesterday I looked pretty put together. Today I look like an utter mess. I can barely blame August for not taking me seriously. I plop on the seat and Bobo jumps on the armrest. The orange cat sits down, but continues to take August in.

‘The staring is making me uncomfortable,’ August mentions.

‘You seem so tough, but looks can be very deceiving,’ I chuckle.

‘That’s not funny.’

‘It’s hilarious, you should grow a sense of humor,’ I retort. ‘Okay, tell me something fun about yourself.’

August frowns. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’

‘Because I’m providing you shelter,’ I say. ‘Honestly, it’s the least you can do. Tell me something fun. There must be something fun about you.’

‘You have to give me more than that,’ he mutters. ‘I don’t like talking about myself and I certainly can’t do it on the spot.’

Okay, that’s fair, I can’t do that either. ‘From where did you move here?’

August lets out a deep breath, as I watch him caressing his own thigh. It almost looks like he is soothing himself. Is this question making him uncomfortable? ‘Montana,’ he says, but it’s not very convincing. Hearing from his tone, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

‘You want a pet?’ I continue trying to strike up a conversation. I don’t want to stare at him for three hours (not that I would complain about it, because the view is pretty okay, it’s just slightly weird) and I need him to talk, because otherwise I have to kick him out.

‘I’m not a big fan of animals. As a matter of fact, I don’t even like animals.’

‘That’s really sad,’ I say, as I scratch Bobo behind his ears, earning me some load purring. ‘Animals are very nice and you always have someone to cuddle with. Or doesn’t August Walker like cuddles either?’

He looks over at me, not amused. ‘Do we have to talk?’ he asks, expertly avoiding my question, sarcastic or not.

‘Yes, we do. If you don’t want to talk, ask me something and at least pretend to listen when I do so.’

August cocks an eyebrow, before he thinks about it for a while. ‘Are you ever afraid of life?’

‘Geez,’ I exclaim, ‘way to make it this depressing in the morning!’

He simply shrugs. ‘You wanted me to ask you something.’

I sink deeper into the backrest of my soft one person sofa. The question does make me think. I’d like to surround myself with positivity, ignoring the bad things happening in the world and not think about the darker aspects in life. I know that is not very healthy and you should be aware of the things happening around you, but it has helped me through tough times in life.

But when I think about it, about the uglier side of life, I realize one thing. ‘I am afraid of life,’ I say.

‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Because it can be scary sometimes. Unpredictable.’ The sounds of screeching tires, a loud crash and the car tumbling over all flashes through my mind. ‘It can be painful.’ Realizing how upsetting this all sounds, I grab a pillow from behind me and throw it to August. ‘Why are you so damn miserable?’ I ask him. ‘We should start the day on a happy note, not make it this depressing.’

August breaks out in a smile and when he does so, he looks approachable. Not like my shitty and rude neighbor, but like a nice guy. ‘Well, your questions were too generic.’

‘Yours are too depressing.’

For a few seconds we simply look at each other, before we both burst out in laughter. It’s nice to see August Walker like this. He doesn’t look stuffy anymore and he lost the arrogant glow. ‘Well, while you think of more lighter questions, I’ll get the coffee. You want milk or sugar in it?’

‘No, just black will do.’

I walk to the kitchen, pour in the coffee in two bright red mugs and hand him one. ‘There you go,’ I say to him.

He simply takes it out of my hand, but I continue to hold it. ‘What are you doing?’

‘One usually says thank you when he or she receives something from someone.’ I remember it clearly, when one of my first foster parents taught me some lessons in being polite. Back then it was said in a loving way. Now I recreate the entire scene in more of a mocking tone.

August rolls his eyes, exactly as I expected him to do. ‘Thank you,’ he grumbles. ‘You happy now?’

‘Absolutely delighted.’

◎ ◎ ◎

At eleven ‘o clock sharp, August left because the mechanic arrived. Not long after that, I had to go to practice. Because of the presence of my neighbor the entire morning, I actually forgot about having to train with Tristan on the side of the field. I wondered what on earth I did to displease coach Riley. Okay, I know she does this because it is for my own good, but for fuck’s sake, I have never felt so humiliated in my time I’ve trained with the Red Stars.

Thankfully the awful training finally ended and at around five in the late afternoon, I’m back at my apartment building. When the doors slid open, I see Harold standing behind the reception as usual. I glide through the hallway and manage to stop right in front of him on the other side of the desk. ‘Hello Harold,’ I say to him.

‘Hello miss Mia,’ he says to me, as he places his under arms on the flat surface of his desk. ‘You seem awfully cheery today. I thought you had to take it easy today during training.’

Am I cheery? My teammates said this to me as well today, before I remembered I had to train on the side of the field and now Harold mentions it too? I don’t really know why I would be— Oh no! Does this mean what I think it means?

Did I enjoy August’s company this morning?

Well, to be honest, it was actually quite nice from time to time. I have been spending most of my time alone in my apartment (actually all the time). I mean, I love my teammates and we hang out after practice sometimes, but they have their own lives, their own families.

I don’t want to intrude, though they invite me from time to time. It’s more that I’m scared to join them. What if they only ask me to join them, because they want to be nice and polite?

After we talked for a while this morning, August and I, we spend some time watching television. It was almost as if we were alone together and that felt quite nice.

‘Just woke up in a cheery mode,’ I say, though it’s not exactly the truth. ‘Is there any mail for me?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, miss.’

‘For my new neighbor then?’

Harold shakes his head again. ‘How is he anyways? Heard about his heater being broken.’

I smile. ‘Well, he quite nice actually. Bit stuffy, like you said, but once you get to know him, he can be nice from time to time.’

‘Is that why you are cheery?’ he asks.

‘What?’ I exclaim. How did Harold guess that right away? Yes! ‘No, what on earth would give you that impression?’

Harold tries to keep a straight face, but he fails and I realize I’ve been caught red handed. ‘Well, miss Mia,’ he says, thankfully not adding any fuel to this disastrous situation, ‘I’m glad to know that you manage to make even him likable. You are a very special lady.’

‘Right,’ I say, after I cleared my throat. ‘I’m gonna go. See you later, Harold.’

He chuckles. ‘Later, miss.’

When I step out on the right floor, I let out a deep sigh. Is it true? Am I cheery because of August Walker? Who would’ve guessed. When I pass his door and I fumble with my keys, I hear a door open. I look to my side and see August stepping into the hallway.

‘Good afternoon, neighbor,’ I say to him. ‘How are you?’

He doesn’t smile and the nice August I saw every so often this morning, has disappeared into thin air. While I want to be annoyed by it, I can’t help but notice to see the slight pain in his eyes. I saw it this morning and I see it now. From the looks of it, he is hurting and I relate. I know how it feels.

But what I also know is that deep down there is a lovely soul, it’s just protected by a very thick wall.

‘Good afternoon,’ he hums. ‘I realized I took this from you.’ He holds out the red mug I handed to him three times this morning. This man gulps down coffee as if it is water and for a second I was genuinely concerned he would have a caffeine overdose.

He seems to have managed just fine.

‘Oh, thank you,’ I say as I take it from him when he stepped closer to me. ‘I probably wouldn’t have missed it. I have way too many mugs, but thanks anyways.’

The way August is hot and cold within a matter of seconds, is something I should put up with from now on. I have decided to give this man with some pretty poor social skills the benefit of the doubt. Besides, I actually quite enjoy having him around.

No wonder I was cheery today.

August buries his hands in his pockets and is probably waiting for me to say something.

‘Your heater fixed?’ I ask.

He simply nods. ‘Yes, all good now.’

Is he waiting again for me to say something? This man… Before I can even think about the pros and cons of my very impulsive idea, I ask him: ‘Do you have plans tomorrow night?’

‘I don’t,’ he says, before he frowns. 'Why?’

‘I have two tickets for a Bulls game.’

He looks confused. ‘A what game?’

‘Bulls game. Chicago Bulls. Basketball,’ I clarify. ‘I mean, you can go with me if you want.’

‘And why would I want to do that?’

‘Because I’m the loveliest neighbor and human being for that matter, you have ever encountered in your life and you desperately want to spend more time with me.’

August doesn’t smile. Maybe he is conflicted, because he occasionally let his guard down this morning.

And maybe this question is way too much. I don’t really understand I was questioning his social skills this morning, while I’m out here overstepping all sorts of boundaries.

‘Sure,’ he however says to my surprise. ‘I can’t really think of worse things to do tomorrow.’

‘You’re such an asshole,’ I tell him. ‘You were quite nice this morning in my apartment. What changed?’ I don’t give him time to answer. ‘Oh wait, I think I get it. It’s this hallway that turns you into a complete asshole.’

‘You can still un-invite me,’ he says, with an amused glimmer in his eyes.

‘I can do that of course, however believe it or not, I barely have friends and the few I have, all have their own social circles and don’t like to go to Bulls games.’

‘Then why did you purchase two tickets?’

‘Because it was cheaper to buy two tickets and I’d like to live up to the stereotype that the Dutch are stingy cheapskates.’

‘I can tell you, Mia, it’s working,’ he says. ‘Someone without friends who want to go to Bulls games with her, purchases two tickets, simply because it’s cheaper.’

I stick out my tongue. ‘Well, whatever. It starts tomorrow at six and it’s within walking distance from here. You have time?’

‘I sure do.’

‘And you still want to go with me?’

He nods.

‘Well, see you tomorrow then, August.’

He looks at me, a long and intense stare, before he says: ‘See you tomorrow, Mia.’

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #Henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x soccer player #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x mia makaruku #august walker #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x oc #august walker x mia makaruku #august walker x soccer player #fic: protection #asian ofc #mia makaruku

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melancholic-pigeon · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday #12

Set shortly after Percy and Jason meet in freshman year of high school (14/15 years old). Content warnings for domestic violence, child neglect and abuse, alcoholism and food insecurity.

"That's horrifying. You know that's horrifying, right? Please tell me you know that's horrifying."

Sally hears Percy's voice before she gets to the kitchen. She's heard it like that before, and it never means anything good.

She makes her footfalls heavier so that the boys aren't startled by her approach. She's ready to appear in the doorway and smile like she didn't hear a thing and ask them how their studying is going and if they'd like a snack— but Percy cuts her off before she can even open her mouth.

"Can Jason borrow you for a second? I'm trying to prove a point."

She looks at the two of them, textbooks and notepads and mechanical pencils spread out on the table. From the work on the paper, they haven't done much more than they had the last time she checked in, an hour or so ago.

Percy's frenetic, though he's trying to hide it. She doesn't know Jason all that well yet, but he's sitting very still, and she gets the feeling he's holding something in, too.

"If he'd like to, certainly." She rinses out her mug and puts on the kettle, her back to them so that Jason has a second to think about it. "Hot cocoa or tea?"

When she turns around, his face has changed. Not by much, but she can see a tiny shade of nervousness.

"Cocoa, please. Thank you."

He's almost painfully polite, much more so than a fourteen year old boy should be in such a casual setting. She keeps hearing her son in her head, and tries not to speculate on what he found horrifying.

"It really wasn't that bad."

"I'm gonna make the cocoa." Percy gets up from the table in an explosive movement. "Because otherwise, I'm just gonna interrupt you every two seconds to tell you that it was worse than you're making it out to be."

Jason rolls his eyes, but it makes him relax a little, too.

"I never said the whole thing wasn't bad, just that I didn't suffer. All of the really terrible parts happened to Thalia, not me. She made sure of that."

Percy makes an indignant noise. There's a picture starting to form in Sally's head, patchworking together from the pieces she already has, and she doesn't like it.

"You don't have to say anything until you're ready, sweetheart."

She doesn't even think about it. It's second nature with Percy's friends by now. Jason, she reminds herself, has only been around for four months; his eyes widen, like it's the first time anyone has ever called him that.

Maybe it is. Maybe that's why he's so nervous.

Percy clatters around behind them. She can hear the kettle starting to rumble and the soft exhalation from across the table.

"It seriously wasn't," Jason repeats, like he's trying to assure himself more than Sally.

She can remember thinking the same thing, going through the same process, telling herself that at least her first husband only used his fists.

"Tell her what you told me," Percy insists over the clinking of the spoon as he stirs the cocoa.

Jason meets Sally's eyes, with a vulnerability she hasn't seen him wear so plainly.

"I don't know how much Thalia's said about it. I'd assume not a whole lot. There's stuff she still won't tell me, either."

"She's trying to protect you." Percy puts Jason's mug across from him and takes his seat again. "And she's allergic to sharing her anxieties, for a much better reason than I thought."

"It's a habit. She was maybe nine years old, tops, when she started shoving it all down." Jason frowns, running his fingers over the handle of his mug. "I didn't have a clue how bad it actually was, because she hid it from me. All I knew was that when Mom was gone for a while, we'd play a game where we'd hunt for all of her empty bottles and cans, and Thalia would let me win and take us to the gas station and buy me a snack as a prize so I wouldn't whine at her while she was getting the rest of our groceries."

There aren't really any good possibilities in a situation like this, but Sally's heart still plummets into her gut.

"He thought it was fun," Percy mutters darkly. "Like a field trip where he got treats, instead of his third-grade sister stealing, skipping meals and collecting booze receptacles to exchange for coin deposits because their mom was too busy getting plastered to feed them and their dad cared more about his reputation than the welfare of his children."

There are a million things she could say, including every word that's come out of Percy's mouth so far. He's looking at her, weighed down by the same helpless rage he often carries when they talk about things like this. She feels it too, just as bitterly, though she's no longer apt to show it on her face like that.

"That's awfully young to be left on your own," she tells Jason, taking his hand. She can feel her eyes stinging as he squeezes back, hard, his jaw held tense. "And kids notice. It was hard on you, too, even if you didn't know why."

She feels Percy grab her free hand under the table. She'd tried everything she could think of to shelter him— and all he learned from it was how to keep his own secrets from her.

If she hadn't found his stash of concealer and powder, she'd never have known he'd somehow learned the same trick she used. If he hadn't walked in on her with the palettes in her hands and tears streaming down her face, he never would have known it wasn't just him.

They don't keep secrets anymore. It's terrifying, but it's worth it; with honesty comes trust, and now Percy doesn't try to hide when something's wrong. At least not with her.

"Sometimes I wonder if that's why she's so tiny." Jason stares into his cocoa, still holding onto Sally's hand. "I don't think I went to bed hungry more than once or twice. Thalia used to do it all the time. She'd tell me she ate while I was asleep, and since I was, like, two, I didn't know any better but to believe her."

Suddenly, Sally understands why Thalia was crying so hard.

("He's gotten so tall— I couldn't feel his ribs—")

She can still vividly remember staring at the cupboards while her little boy clawed at her leg, realizing there wasn't enough for them both and she was still two days away from getting paid. She went that long once, and only broke her fast because she fainted at work.

Her manager— one of the rare good ones she'd had— had kept her clocked in, hauled ass across the street to buy her a peanut butter milkshake and made her sit in his office and rest for the remainder of her shift. After that, he worked hard to push through the promotion that the store manager kept finding excuses to avoid, and with it came enough of a pay raise that she didn't have to do it more than once or twice a month.

She'd been twenty-four at the time. Thalia wasn't even in double digits, apparently.

"I'm okay, Ms. Jackson. It was a long time ago."

She realizes she's tearing up only when Jason cuts through her thoughts. He's smiling, and he really does look healthy and cared for, if a little coltish.

"Honey." She lets go of his hand to grip his shoulder, her grip almost as tight as her throat. "I'm not your teacher. I'm a friend who wishes she could go back in time and adopt you. Please call me Sally."

It lightens the mood like a match illuminating total darkness. Jason slumps in the chair with a breathless laugh, glancing nervously at her.

"It's a hard habit to break, but I'll try."

She wants nothing more than to pull him into a hug, but she doesn't want to spook him. She smiles back at him instead, as warmly as she can possibly manage.

"Trying at all is something to be proud of."

-Untitled WIP from Sally's POV! stellarverse AU, shortly after Jason and Percy meet freshman year of high school. Some additional excerpts of published fics for context below the cut.

On the one hand, it makes him giddy to expose Jason to unconditional parental support, but on the other, the fact that he has to go to Percy's parents for that support because he can't get it from his own is spittle-frothingly rage-inducing.

When they're at home, the only thing they have to worry about is not getting too handsy in front of the baby or scarring Percy's parents for life, or at most, doing the dishes because Jason felt it was his duty as guest. He'd vehemently insist, saying it was the only way he could think of to express his gratitude, which would make Percy's mom tear up and hug him tight and tell him that being good to her firstborn was all the thanks she needed.

She's always liked Jason, and she's always worried about him, too. She's certainly heard enough of Percy's ranting to stay on top of the situation, and was already known for remembering everything she's ever been told about someone's tragic backstory. Jason, like most of Percy's friends, was desperately lacking that energy in his life, and by the third visit he'd given her a rundown of his entire life history.

I feel like I can tell her anything, he'd said to Percy later, thrown off his game by a particularly raw word-vomit. Every bit of it is massively unfair–that Jason's stepmother takes out her anger over her spouse's infidelity on the children who'd had no choice in being born, that his father didn't care enough about him to do anything more than show up once or twice a month and give him a blistering, vaguely threatening lecture, that his mother had barely even remembered he existed, and only by enough to make herself look more pitiable.

Most upsetting of all was that his sister–seven or eight years old then–had essentially been forced to parent him through toddlerhood by herself, because no one else was paying enough attention to stop a two-year-old from trying to give himself a lip piercing with a stapler. Half the time, nobody else was paying enough attention to feed him, either.

It makes Percy want to throw something out a window. Fortunately for everyone, while she's in agreement, his mom has a lot more experience in channeling her anger productively than he does, and isn't prone to agitating herself into letting it boil over. She focuses instead on making her apartment the coziest, homiest place she possibly can, on showering Jason with all of the maternal adoration and pride he'd been missing out on, and letting him know he could show up on her doorstep at three in the morning without notice and she'd welcome him inside with open arms and a mug of hot tea.

- I Guess You're Just What I Needed

Thalia had made a game out of collecting the recyclables strewn over the floor, which just meant that she'd cheer him on and make a huge celebratory fuss when he found something plastic. The glass and aluminum were 'big-kid stuff', so she didn't have to worry about him hurting himself on sharp edges or hard surfaces; she diverted his desire to be just like her by pretending his contributions were heavier, so he could feel like he was helping.

She'd gather them all up in a little red wagon and take Jason to the convenience store down the street to exchange their loot for deposits. His job had been putting the plastic in the machine, one at a time, while she held him up so he could reach. They'd put the change in a coffee can, already rattling with whatever bills and coins she'd found in the mess of the apartment, and use it to re-load the wagon with as much prepackaged, shelf-stable food as it would get them.

Sometimes, they'd get someone nice behind the counter who asked where their parents were and went thin-lipped when she tried to deflect it by lying that their mother had a migraine, and they'd end up with twice as much food as they had money for. Those trips always made Thalia more nervous, and she'd tended to startle every time the doorbell rang for at least a week afterwards.

Back then, the routine felt normal, even pleasant; he learned quickly to associate it with a full belly and a feeling of safety. Like so many of his scars, he hadn't realized how deep it was until he related the story in the Jackson-Blofis kitchen, Sally's eyes filling with tears as she took his hand and squeezed until it hurt.

-We Should Have Each Other With Cream, chapter 11

See also my "thundersibs" tag.

#wip wednesday #sally jackson #i wrote this #stellarverse #team mom and team mom's team mom #let jason grace be cuddly dammit #long post

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 30)

She knows that there is not a soul left in the world that cares for her. She knows it because if there was, someone would have reached out and taken her hand. Someone would have realized that she was slowly dying and they would have given her at least a little sip of water and a small morsel to eat.

Nobody does.

Because nobody cares.

For all of its heat, she is certain that the Fire Nation is colder than the poles.

No wonder she herself is so cold.

Her body aches and pains in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Dehydration leaves her muscles cramped without mercy. She puts one foot in front of the other, over and over. Her mind has grown numb to all else. Her head throbs and she has run out of sweat. She stumbles and pitches forward. She doesn’t have the energy to pick herself back up and so she drags herself on all fours. Crawling on her hands and knees.

She doesn’t think of anything else, just of moving limb after limb until she finds herself at the base of a cliff. The Black Cliffs she realizes, faintly. She drags herself to the shoreline, tears welling in her eyes.

She greedily laps at the water, feeling just as uncivilized as she has become. She thinks that there is nothing left of who she had been. Nothing good anyhow. She is certain that she has still retained and regained all of the most unsavory bits.

After helping herself to copious amounts of water, she lets her body fall limp. Arm outstretched, her fingers dip into the water. Water that laps gently at the sand. The cliffs tower high above her, shadows washing over her. Atop them, short strands of grass sway and swish. A fuzzy green to adorn the otherwise craggy landscape.She bunches herself up; at the very least she will have a nice view to go with her death.

She doesn’t expect to wake up but she does. And she awakes to familiar pains. At least she is no longer thirsty, at least the water cools her body. At least she can refill the waterskin. But how terribly her stomach pangs. And the sun burns on her skin sear a bright red. Her skin is already peeling in places, she feels even less human.

She climbs to her feet anyhow, dizzy, swaying.

She walks for miles, empty headed, reduced to nothing but the aches in her stomach and feet. The throbbing of her head.

She isn’t going to make it, she isn’t sure why she is trying.

She wonders if her corpse will be found and if she will be buried respectfully or unceremoniously. Perhaps her body will rot where it falls…

Approaching from the other direction, she sees the first people that she had encountered in days...weeks?

She wonders if it would make a difference to tell them that she is their princess.

She recalls her haggard state and wonders if they’d believe her.

She approaches them.

She opens her mouth. She knows that she had.

But the blackness overtakes her--she isn’t sure if she had gotten any word out. Her body, spent and at its limit trembles all over even in sleep. She doesn’t wake up for some time. And when she does, she wakes alone. Alone and somewhere entirely new.

Her heart thunders in her chest; where have they taken her? Is she dead? It’s dark. She chokes out a little sob. She doesn’t know where she is or how she got there. She shivers; what if she has gotten herself mixed up with the slave traders? Agni, can’t the universe at least let her die a free woman?

But her hands, her ankles...they aren’t bound.

Curiously, her middle doesn’t ache quite as terribly. They, whoever they are, must have fed her.

Azula sits up and the tarp falls away. She looks around and her eyes fall upon a stocky man with a full beard and ample eyebrows. “What…?” She gestures to the tarp. The man catches it before it can blow away entirely.

“It was to keep the sun off of you.” The man says gruffly. He is a soldier. She thinks that she recognizes him. She can’t put a name to a face right now, neither can she put it to a memory.

Still shaking, she rakes her hands through her hair.

Her hair!

Her dismay must have registered on her face because the man states plainly, “Matted. We wouldn’t have been able to comb it so we cut it.”

She falls back to the floor of the cart. It doesn’t matter. Long, lustrous hair is for the dignified anyways. She bunches herself back up.

“We’ll take you as far as the outskirts of Caldera City, then you fend for yourself.”

She manages a small nod but inquires, “why did you pick me up at all?”

“We’re not savages. We’re trying to show the world that the Fire Nation isn’t cruel.” The soldier shrugs.

But compared to everywhere else that she has been, it is. Very much so.

“But we’re not about to give rewards to someone like you.”

“Like me?” It is an impulse to ask.

“Dirty. Dumb. Useless. You haven’t earned your keep.”

And now she recognizes him. He had been one of Admiral Zhao’s subordinates. Arrogant and dumber than he thinks she. She has earned her keep more than thrice over. It isn’t her fault that the universe keeps stealing it away from her.

It isn’t her fault that the universe has a vendetta against her specifically. That it is trying to give her the fill of bad luck she had missed. Maybe in another fourteen years--maybe eleven to twelve if the years she has suffered already count--she will fall into another era of fortune.

Maybe if she can last that long.

“You gonna get a job when you get to the outskirts or are you gonna…”

She doesn’t have the patience to listen to him anymore. Doesn’t have the patience for small minded assumptions and baseless judgements. She doesn’t have the emotional energy to deal with her own former ideals thrown back at her again. And again. And again…

She isn’t sure how many times she has to pay for them.

When it will end.

When the world will finally acknowledge that she is doing her best. That she isn’t evil through and through; that she is just a woman who wants a home and peace of mind…

The rocking of the cart jars and unsettles her.

She thinks that she has learned it quite a while back but more subtly, kindly; that day she learns not to sneer at those who are down on their luck. She doesn’t know them. They don’t know her.

.oOo.

She is almost overwhelmed by how much attention she is getting. Mostly it is from Sokka who holds her as close as he physically can. But it is from Zuko too, who fixes her some tea (“just the way uncle always makes it!”) and from TyLee who gushes over what a caring mother she is until her cheeks grow red. It comes from Mai who brings her scrolls to read and occupy her mind with. From the servants and Lo and Li...

Caihong hasn’t spoken with her since she delivered the bad news nearly four days ago.

“Trust me. Children are just like that.” Ursa insists. “She’ll come around.”

But Azula hadn’t.

She still hasn’t.

She is still angry with the woman.

The woman who had left her feeling neglected and hated for much of her life. The woman who, with uncle in tow, finally made her appearance--and at the worst possible time--two days prior.

And yet the woman has her hand on the small of her back and rubs in small circles. At least Iroh knows to keep his distance. But really, aside from the lashing of her tongue, there isn’t a particular risk in pestering her.

Ursa reaches out and grazes her fingers over the scar on Azula’s neck. The princess flinches back and her mother grimaces.

“What happened, dear?”

“Ask Zuzu.” She is so tired and she doesn’t feel like explaining it again. She really doesn’t feel like dealing with more pity.

“She’s been through a lot.” Sokka takes his seat at the edge of the bed. “And she can use some fresh air. Let's go for a walk, Azula.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You shouldn’t just sit in your room all day.”

“I’m not. I leave occasionally to get something to eat and have my bath…”

“What about to socialize?”

Azula crinkles her nose and he laughs. She is in utter distress and he is laughing. “Talking to people isn’t that bad. Look how nice all of the Earth Kingdomers were to you.” He gestures to her journal.

She takes it in her hands and stares at it for sometime before shoving it into Ursa’s arms. “Talk to me when you’re done reading it.”

“Azula--!?”

“You haven’t even read the first page yet.” She scoffs.

“You shouldn’t be so mean to your--”

Azula cuts him a glare.

“Strawberry garden, let’s check on that.” This time it is a nervous laugh.

She grabs his hand and quite roughly. She doesn’t mean to be so rough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Caihong is already in the garden when they arrive, babbling away with TyLee. She holds Bao up with a delighted squeal.

Azula sits down next to the child who turns around with a “hmph!”

“Oh come on, Caihong,” TyLee tries, “Azula really wants to talk to you. She cares about you a lot.”

Caihong folds her arms, “nuh-uh, she makes me sad.”

Azula’s stomach flutters.

“Sometimes bad things happen, Cai.” Sokka tries. “She didn’t make this thing happen she was only telling you what happened.” He pauses. “Don’t you think you would have been sadder if that bad guy took you back to WuJing and no one was there?”

Caihong’s pout grows.

“At least now you have me and TyLee and Zuko and…” He lifts her up and turns her around to face Azula, “you have a mom.”

“My mom died.” She says plainly, fidgeting with Bao’s claws. “‘S not fair.”

“No kidding…” Sokka mutters. “My mom died too. Sometimes there are just bad people, Caihong. And they take really good people away. But there are lots of other good people and you have to talk to them.” He scoops her up and plops her into Azula’s lap.

“But…”

“Is Azula a bad person?” TyLee asks.

Azula cringes at the question coming from her.

“Did she do something bad to you?”

Caihong looks up at her with those bright green eyes and shakes her head.

“Did she do something good for you?”

Another glance is accompanied by an affirmative nod. “Lots of good things.” Caihong mumbles into Bao’s head.

“So why are you mad at her?” Sokka asks.

Caihong thinks for a moment, “she told me about the bad people.”

“And you didn’t want to hear it?”

Caihong shakes her head again.

“Would you have rather heard it from someone else?”

Another head shake. This time her little fingers curl around Azula’s hand.

“Do you still want Azula to be your mommy!?” TyLee clasps her hands together.

Caihong pauses, squeezing and squeezing Azula’s hand before nodding once more. Caihong nuzzles her cheek against Azula’s chest and Azula holds her close. She strokes at the child’s hair. “Bao and I were having a cave adventure.”

“A cave adventure?”

“Mmhmm, see.” Caihong points at a small hole that she dug right in the middle of Azula’s strawberry garden. The princess sighs.

“Did you find anything in the caves?”

“Rubies!” She declares, gesturing to the slain corpses of her strawberries.

“Those rubies weren’t ready to be mined yet.” She mumbles.

She isn’t sure why, but Caihong laughs. People, she decides, laugh at the strangest things. “You can plant more rubies, mom!”

Mom…

Mother…

She could have had so much…

.oOo.

Even after tucking a newly happy and babbling Caihong in, Azula is very quiet. Sullen and withdrawn. Sokka sets a platter of roast duck on her nightstand, “you didn’t come to dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, Sokka.” She doesn’t look away from the ceiling. She absently toys with the curtains draped over her bed. He doesn’t push her this time, though he decides that he will be delivering an extra nice breakfast to her in the morning. He lays himself down next to her. He very nearly springs back up, unsure if they have reached a point where she is comfortable with him laying on her bed. But she rolls over and reaches for his hand.

“You haven’t even changed out of your day clothes.” He observes.

She gives a slight shrug, “they’re comfortable enough. I’ve…”

“Slept in worse?” He rolls his eyes.

She nods.

“You’re going to be alright, Azula.” He promises.

“Perhaps.”

He sighs, they have been so focused on reassuring Caihong that he has forgotten to comfort Azula. He is certain that the princess has been neglecting herself too. “Ya know, everything we said about family applies to you too? Do you want Caihong to be your child?”

“Of course, Sokka. I wouldn’t have gone through all of that trouble if I didn’t.”

“Do you…” He swallows. “Do you want a new lover? A new husband?”

She is quiet for a very long time but she doesn’t withdraw her hand. “I don’t want to replace Hajime.”

“I don’t want to replace him.” Sokka replies. “I want you to talk about him and tell me about him. But I want to be Sokka, I don’t want to take you on the kinds of dates Hajime took you on, I want to…”

She presses her fingers to his lips. “You talk too much. I got the point the first time.” She rolls back onto her back. “I know that you aren’t replacing anyone. You are Sokka. That’s good enough for me.”

He takes his chances with moving closer to her. Having success, he slides his arm around her waist. She is quiet for another long span. It might have left him feeling anxious had she not let him trace his finger over the line of the scar on her belly. It is rougher in comparison to her otherwise delicate skin.

“I don’t think that ‘good enough’, is exactly the right phrase.” She speaks again. “It’s…” she trails off. “It’s something new and it’s...it’s just as special.”

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

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jasminevolkan · 3 years

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TIME IN A BOTTLE — self paragraph 001,

& character development TASK #5.

warnings: abandonment issues, divorce, abuse/neglect, death and illness, mentions of christmas, food and alcohol, curse words, jasmine having courage?

JANUARY 1ST 2021, 11:27 am.

Wishes of joy, success and health ended the traditional New Year’s brunch at the Volkan’s residence. Usually, the duo would make this celebration last all day long, but Jasmine had other plans. Instead, she put the leftovers in containers and headed for the exit. She kissed her mother on both cheeks and wrapped her in a tight hug. She earned a pat on the back as a notification she was squeezing her mother’s body too tightly. “Don’t want to let you go,” Jasmine whispered those words like an automatic response. “I’m not going anywhere,” Lana would reply.

They were creature of habits, an inseparable pair. They resembled Russian nestling dolls, there was never one without the other. As years went by, Jasmine grew more and more conscious of the inevitable. She was a star following the moon in a dark night sky, but one day the moon would be swallowed in the void and leave the burning dust nothing but an endless pain, deeper than a black hole. She was no stranger to grief, it did not mean she appreciated the experience. They discussed it often, a little too often to Lana’s liking. Her daughter was so fearless, yet she feared everything in her surroundings. She wished she could fly on her own, but she respected Jas’ desire to circle close to the nest.

They were creature of habits, an inseparable pair. They gifted each other the same thing for Christmas — a holiday they celebrated by choice — however they waited for the first day of the year to open them. Chocolate, candles and promises to spend time together in the future. They made plans to build sandcastles together on a rare calm spot of the beach, where Lana claimed there was a palm tree as old as her daughter. They remembered good and bad events that came out of the previous twelve months.

Usually, they would involve unfortunate recipes or complicated art projects that never came to life. More often than not, they would share a knowing look. The worst that came out of anything was Jasmine’s father. His presence (or lack thereof) impacted them on a daily basis, still. It left a whole in their lives, otherwise complete and satisfying. It fed into Jasmine’s insecurities, it encouraged Lana to relive the constant pain she was in while trying to comfort her daughter. Children to grow old in love and affection. No matter how much love Lana provided, it never seemed to be enough for her daughter.

Love and attention were the same thing as food, for Jasmine. She always craved for more and was afraid she would never get enough.

She walked out of her childhood home and crossed the lawn over to her house. Hidden by the mass of leftovers she carried expertly, she did not notice the box that blocked the door until she bumped her foot against it. She tried to scoot around the obstacle, in vain.

The breeze blew stronger, whipping locks of chocolate brown hair on her face. It sent a wave of goosebumps down her spine. She leaned down to open the box, pulling out stuffed animals, birthday cards and other items she remembered seeing in stores but never having the courage to buy it. Expensive paint brushes and other supplies, sets of gold earrings that sparkled under the sun; the list went on. She picked up a pink bunny, it seemed old and resembled one she had in her oldest memories but could never find again.

Jasmine looked up from the objects, the bunny squeezed tightly against her chest. She frowned and looked around, her mother was not on the porch, the other neighbours were probably asleep or gone. Avalon seemed very quiet, almost surreal.

Surreal like the shadow she noticed standing at the corner of the street. Her eyes squinted and blinked, but they seemed to have washed away the familiar silhouette. Somehow, the bunny felt like it radiated a comfortable warmth. She read the message that was left on the box, the handwriting was printed in her memory.

“I love you. I am sorry it took me your whole lifetime to realize it. Signed, “

The end of the message was scribbled in a whirlwind of blue ink. She had to focus really hard to recognize the three letters. Contrary to the presents or the mysterious figure, the word resonated no familiarity.

“Dad.”

FEBRUARY 14TH 2021, 3:02 AM.

Jasmine kept this a secret, the box and the message. She tried to play it cool, like it did not affect her that her father was trying to build the bridge he destroyed when he left for New York City. She hated New York. She hated bridges. She hated him.

No.

She loved him.

She pulled out a pink gel pen from this same pencil case she carried since high school, it had little doodles and messages written at the back from her friends. She ripped a sheet away from her binder that she used for ideas at work. And she improvised. It usually felt so natural for her, to cross boundaries and to do as she pleased. This time, it was painful and almost impossible to do.

“I loved it when you took me for a drive around the island on nights where I couldn’t sleep. I loved it when you brought me to the candy store after forgetting to pick me up from daycare because you were busy. I loved it when you read stories to me during rainy days so I would be quiet and fall asleep. I loved it when you gave me seashells from all of your work trips, even if they looked identical to those on the beaches down the street. I loved it when you took me to the park and pushed me on the swings just long enough before you got a phone call. I loved it when you wrote notes in my lunch boxes on school days, I saved them all in a bottle of bourbon you left on my night stand that one time you came home as the sun was rising.

I loved it when you acted like a father, even if it was just for a split second.

I love receiving magazines and seeing your name on the front page, congratulating you for all the listings you manage to sell. I love staring at the pages of photos and noticing that I look just like you. I love thinking of new ways to improve myself, because that’s what you would have wanted to. I love thinking you might come back here one day and we can make up for all the time we wasted loathing each other. I love thinking one day we might have a family portrait identical to the one you had in your office of your wife and kids. I love thinking that one day you’ll have one of me with them and hang it on your wall at home. I love thinking that one day, I will get to call you Dad.

I forgive you. I forgive you for leaving mom alone with me. I forgive you for hurting me so much I might just never heal. I forgive you for finding your happiness elsewhere. I forgive you for failing as a father. I forgive you for learning how to do better with your other children. I forgive you for leaving the life you never wanted. I forgive you for having dreams that were larger than what we could give you. I forgive you for breaking the promises you told me of this life where we would be a happy family.

I love you,”

The old pen was running out of ink, so she shook it vividly. She did not bother wiping her tears away, not the stain of pink on her hand that was tinting the paper. She added this short word she had blocked out of her memory all this time. It was just a nickname for all, but for her. She remembered the tone of his voice whenever he said this word, it was calm and posed, loving and caring. He said it rarely, but she could still hear it so clearly.

“Jojo.”

FEBRUARY 14TH 2021, 11:58 PM.

She scrunched the sheets of paper into a ball and threw it on the floor, missing the trash can by two feet at least. She then moved to the couch, grabbing her laptop from the coffee table and logged on her email. Her fingers floated above the keyboard until the screen turned darker. She was looking up to the clock on the wall, watching the seconds fly by.

She took a deep breath, hoping it would slow down time. It had the opposite effect, feeding into this adrenaline rush she desperately tried to repress since the beginning of the year.

She loved him. She never stopped, never will. It would not change. Something needed to change, however, and it was her unhealthy habit of being silent when she needed to speak out the most.

TO: Aleksander Volkan ([email protected])

FROM: Jasmine Volkan ([email protected])

SUBJECT: Receipts and birthday cards

Fuck you. <3

Minnie pressed the button, and sent the email. She shut her laptop close and ran to the abandoned paper on the floor. She unfolded it and held against her chest, disappearing into a room in the search for an envelope.

She was too far to hear the immediate sound of a response.

TO: Jasmine

FROM: Aleksander

SUBJECT:

I love you too.

#self paras.#about.#abuse tw #abandonment tw #death tw #food tw #(( 'love letter' it's not even a letter ~ jas never follows rules that's canon ))#(( the sweater/cardigan and now the letter/email? a true REBEL ))#catalina: task #catalina: love letters #tasks.

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universal-melodies · 4 years

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(I made a fanfic!!! It's also up on whattpad and is far better.)

Saved from damnation chapter 1. (a La squadra x reader fanfic. Any errors shall be duely noted and hopefully corrected!)

Risotto had told you not to leave. That was what you were going to do. He asked that you stay safe because he wanted at least a fraction of the old team to be able to move on. He said that to you before he left to go and fight the boss so you stayed in the hideout waiting on that string of hope that maybe one of them would return.

You laid down on the sofa. Quietly refreshing the message page, waiting for one of them to say something, anything. Just to prove to you that they might just come back. This place was normally humming with Fromaggio’s silly little jokes and Illusio’s snarky comebacks. It felt like a ghost town. You placed the laptop on the coffee table opposite you.

You let out a deep sigh as you snuggled into one of Illu’s spare jacket that you were using as a blanket, pulling it tighter around your shoulders. You really miss them. As you hug the stuffed fish you borrowed off of Pecsi to use as a cushion. You were going to have to apologise for borrowing their stuff without their permission. You had borrowed one thing off of everybody. You were wearing one of Risotto’s hats, he had actually gotten you one of your own but it was just nicer to feel like he was there. You had figured out that Prosci had copies of his necklace clearly just in case his current one got damaged was your best guess. You also borrowed Melone’s laptop to check up on updates on the board the guys where using. The leftover ice cream Giha had made was gone you loved it as always. You had you had a football game on quietly in the background because it reminded you of Froma. You slowly let your eyes close as you fell asleep feeling safe, warm, and like they were all there.

You missed all of them so much.

It was a massive blow when Sorbet and Gelato died, they were the first ones to openly care about you or call you a friend and over the years you knew the pair of them you had never had a bad experience with either. They were the kind, gay uncles you would never replace for the world. One time they were all going to go out on the town for the evening as was very normal for them on weekends because they work stressful jobs that are break-neck not only metaphorically but also quite literally. They live every moment to the fullest as they should. However, at the time you were still only 13 and that meant you had to stay back at home and you insisted that it would be fine. But Sor and Lat decided that they didn’t feel like going out that night. They stayed behind to take care of you. It was a fun evening full of studio Ghibli movies and junk food. Needless to say, these where more of common occurrence between the three of you that started to drag the rest of them in until it was a tradition they all did together, almost as a family. They haven’t done them since.

Not much time had really passed before Fromaggio died. This hit hard as well because he was like your brother. His puns where always the funniest shit to you, especially thinking back to them at 2 am. You absolutely loved watching him get passionate about football because he would talk on and on and you’d listen to all of it. It was fascinating to you in a way it never was before. It made you wonder what had changed in the weeks you’d known him at that point. Maybe it was because you became more open in general. No threat of violence against you was ever actually followed through on and you felt the safest you’d ever felt. It was lovely. You also love to hang out with his cats. They were always so pleasant critters to be around and you often asked to just play with his cats with him. Hoe told you that it was unusual to him. They were always happy around you which he couldn’t say was true for him, because they would scratch and yell when he’s trying to hug them. He said that you, “Have the gift. You can pet the fuzzy babies without them trying to claw your eyes out.”

Then Illusio disappeared. You two weren’t as close but there was still a mutual enjoyment of each-others presence. He seemed to really enjoy doing your hair which was good because you really liked being the test subject for his hairstyle ideas. Seeing new things done with your hair gave you a feeling of warm contentment. Listening to him spreading rumours about his friends, never serious and always rather funny, another highlight was. He could, and would, roast absolutely anyone and everyone. He wasn’t quiet when he disapproved of something, and you’d hear about that too.

Then Pros’ and Pecsi’s remains were found…

Pros’ death hit like a train. It was an odd coincidence because of what you were told about his final moments. You felt like you were being slowly torn apart by the news of your friend’s, no, family’s deaths. Each man fallen left a deep wound on you. By the end of the long week, you had no more tears left as you sat on your bed staring blankly at the faded world around you. You saw him as like your second dad. He may have been snarky and harsh, but it never got to the point where it wasn’t legit criticism. He seemed to know all the best words to keep you going. Pushing the limits of your abilities, to run that extra minute, to do those extra reps. You were driven to near-breaking, but never over. There was always an end, and with him helping you, it became easier to use and control the abilities you seemed to have gained. He called a part of your Stand which Riso had recently explained to you was a manifestation of your spirit and subconscious. Every week you trained the abilities became refined, it eventually got to the point that she occasionally showed herself.

Pecsi was like your older younger brother. His confidence issues had him constantly stumbling over basic interactions that you tried to help to varying degrees of success. You were also very affectionate because it made him become a blushing mess and you found it to be quite funny. He got used to it eventually and it became just another odd thing that you just, did. When you were watching a movie that was even a little scary you two clung to each-other, shaking like leaves. This led to most of the group joking about you two being a thing, earning them a very flustered Pineapple, and scowls that could have murdered from you. The number of times you had to be pulled off the lad because you where petrified by the movie, was higher than the number of times Pecsi had doubted himself. On those nights he insisted on sleeping in your room, because the pair of you were normally too afraid of being on your own. It got so common that you actually asked if you could get a convertible sofa in your room, so he didn’t have to sleep on the floor. It wasn’t too great of an expense so your request was granted. Having him near gave you a certain solace. He was big and he was also rather strong, but he was such a huge teddy bear that he was about as threatening as a kitten. It was comforting, you felt safe.

When Melone and Gihaggio were sent on the suicide mission to go and kidnap Trish. you had tried to beg for the both of them to not go. Both responded that they didn’t have a choice and they had to at least try. Safe to say neither of them came back…

Melo was your favourite teacher because he was funny and always willing to help with anything he could. That ranged from helping you learn more complex Italian that you otherwise wouldn’t have ever gotten, to homework that was otherwise neglected. He also seemed to absolutely adore helping you with the schoolwork that was sent to you, well a post office near you, from a long distance schooling initiative that was set up to help kids like you. Those who couldn’t go to a real school for their own safety. His patience was saintly, and his enthusiasm, seemingly boundless. He never got angry at you for not understanding straight away, and was willing to re-explain everything to you. He also seemed so much happier every second he was with you. You felt appreciated.

Gihaggio was never your favourite person. That was because he was only ever in a bad mood. He was told to help with your education when Melo wasn’t there, this led to quite the tally of near scares. His lashing out was a terror to you, because your father and sister would get like that. When he saw you flinch at his raised fist and yelling, he would redirect and be forced to apologise later by one of the others. It very rarely got to blind rage, and never escalated to violence against you. This was simply due to him knowing that it would be a death sentence from how protective Melone was over her. When forced to apologise he tended to make ice-cream because he: “Has a hard time using his words” as Melone put it.

As Risotto walked out of the door, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being abandoned. He was the last real member of your family that you had, and he was walking out into a guaranteed death. There was nothing you could do. He was the one who found you; it took a few days to trust him at all. It was a delicate process that took at least four days for you to accept food directly given from him, he had to put it on a tray and step back a few steps. He spoke some pretty all right English so you and him would have fairly regular chats. When you were finally allowed out of the room he helped with translation.

They were your family at the end of the day.

“They would come back eventually. Then we’d all go grab some ice-cream to apologise for leaving me alone for so long.” You muttered to yourself before dozing quietly off.

#la squadra #JJBA #Fanfic #X reader #Ghiaggio #Illusio #Melone #risotto nero #proscuitto jojo #Pecsi JJBA

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milknette · 4 years

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day 20 - fairytale

no-one to tell us no or where to go, or say we're only dreaming.

tumblr month: @auyeahaugust

links: ao3 | ff.net

PRINCE Adrien does not want to marry.

Or, well, he does— but not to some princess he doesn't know; not for the sake of politics and prevention of war; and especially not for a woman who would only marry him for his stature and family.

As corny as it is, Adrien wants to marry for love.

But it's not that easy to find someone to love when you're not even allowed to step outside the palace gates.

As if on cue, his father enters his bedroom.

"I assume you've accepted my proposition, Adrien?"

His low voice echoes through the otherwise empty chamber, the tone devoid of almost any love and care a father should have for his own child.

The younger boy only looks down, barely getting up from his bed.

Suddenly, the silks and expensive pillows that he lay on felt so stiff.

Cold, even.

"Adrien," his father repeats. "I asked you a question."

He sighs, deciding to try and confront him. Maybe this time, he'd actually listen.

"Please, father, reconsider. I don't understand why I must marry so soon. And to someone I've never met…"

"We have already discussed this. You must wed Princess Chloé; your marriage will unite our kingdoms and bring prosperity to our family. I'd have thought you'd be over being so stubborn about this."

"I'm not being stubborn! Marrying someone I've never met; and all the more to someone I don't love… didn't you love mother when you married her?"

The look in his father's eyes makes Adrien want to take a step back.

"Do not bring your mother into this."

But why not? Ever since she's disappeared, you've stopped talking about her, and shut yourself completely… you've become so cold, even to your own son.

Instead, Adrien quiets down.

"I'm sorry."

"Then it's settled. I shall send the Bourgeois Kingdom a letter accepting their proposal for marriage." The king stares at him, as if daring him to speak up. "Do you understand, Adrien?"

"Yes, father."

As soon as his father leaves, Adrien dons on a black cloak— his mother's, from way back when, and carefully starts packing a bag of necessities.

A black panther with stunning green eyes nuzzles close to him.

Don't leave, Adrien.

He sighs, before hugging the creature close to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Plagg. But I can't continue to live like this. I love my kingdom, and father, even, but I want to be free. There are things I want to experience in this world, and being trapped by my father will never let me do that."

Plagg growls, evidently conflicted, but carefully steps away.

"I'll come back one day, okay?" Adrien smiles softly. "I promise."

Adrien is stealing. Apparently.

He doesn't really understand how currency or paymentworks, having spent his whole life being pampered by life in the palace.

(Well, he's learned about it from his private tutors; but those largely had to do with managing the treasury and ensuring the gold stays within the family. He's never actually had any issues with wealth.)

So when a shopkeeper threatens to chop off his hand as retribution for giving a child an apple, of all things— Adrien realizes two things:

That economic conditions were actually so poor in his kingdom— a stark contrast from the apparent lie the palace advisers had told him, and;

That he was truly too sheltered by his father, not knowing anything at all.

It's when a strange woman suddenly grabs his hand and pulls him away that Adrien's knocked out of his reverie.

She's telling him something around the lines of, come with me if you want to keep that hand of yours, but he barely notices.

Instead he notices the deep bluebell of her eyes, the rosy pink dusted on her cheeks, and her vibrant red cape flowing as they duck into alleyways and abandoned street corners.

Adrien hasn't met many women outside of those in the palace, but he assumes that it's common knowledge that whoever this is— she is absolutely beautiful.

She takes him to the highest floor of a run-down old building, barely standing from apparent years of abuse and neglect.

The girl notices him staring in wonder.

"Sorry it's not great," she starts, carefully patting the block next to her. "Things haven't been great for some time now."

"I don't understand," he starts, trying to find the words. "Last time I was here, the kingdom was flourishing. And now, people starving, buildings on the verge of collapse, and violent men…"

She laughs. "Now how long has it been since you were last here? And you can't really blame the shopkeeper, you did just take his apple without paying for it. What kind of land did you come from to think that was normal?"

Adrien has the decency to look almost sheepish.

"Let's just say I've been gone awhile," he says instead. "But to think it's changed this much… I have truly missed a lot."

"Well, it wasn't always that bad," she sighs, pulling her legs up to sit down. "You know the king, right? Ever since Queen Emilie died, he just… stopped caring about us. All wealth they kept to their inner circle, leaving us to fend for ourselves." Her eyes narrow. "The people over there don't care about us, and would leave us to die."

That's a cruel wake-up call.

"That's not true!" Adrien suddenly blurts, earning a confused glance from her. "What about the prince?"

She scoffs. "The prince? Nobody's seen him here in years. He's probably just some entitled brat, living in leisure in the palace while we all suffer here. He's no different."

He wants to protest.

But how could he?

If Adrien were in her position, he'd feel no differently from her.

"Is that why you steal?"

"It's hard to make an honest living here," she smiles bitterly. "I've tried selling bread… but it never worked. People will step over everyone else to survive." She looks downward. "I know some orphan kids… scattered around. I've seen them pass out from exhaustion, ignored by everyone here. I know it's wrong to steal, but I— they're children. They shouldn't have to suffer like this!"

The pit in Adrien's stomach grows ever-larger.

How could he have lived so easily, without knowing any of this?

He feels disgust— with his father, with the greedy men from the palace, and even with himself. How could someone who would one day rule over the kingdom not know anything about the realities of the people who lived in it?

"Anyway," she finally sighs. "That's old news. So what's your story, stranger?"

Adrien shrugs. "I ran away. I was just feeling so… trapped, at home. I needed to be free." He pauses, taking in his surroundings— and the mysterious girl sitting next to him. "But I guess freedom wasn't anything like I expected."

"Well, I'm sorry about that. It's hard to come across anything good these days." She says, a far-off look in her eyes. "But one day, I'll get out of here. Travel the world, maybe. Somewhere I can actually live my life, without fearing for it everyday."

"...

Would you mind some company?"

She looks up at him, her face completely caught off-guard by the sudden question. He looks nervous, and scratches his head. "I mean, I've got nowhere to go either. And maybe I can help out! I don't know how to bake bread, but I could learn, and—"

"I'd love that."

Adrien looks at her, visibly surprised. "Really?"

She smiles. "It would be nice to not be alone for a change. So, you got a name?"

He smiles back. "... you first."

"Around here, they call me—"

"LADYBUG."

They both whip their heads up at the sudden intrusion, as a group of soldiers come bursting through the room. The floors shake as they flood the area. "I finally found you."

Adrien belatedly recognizes the voice as Madame Sancoeur's— his father's Royal Vizier and consequently, Captain of the Guard.

The stranger— Ladybug— stands, grasping his hand tightly.

She doesn't back down.

"I didn't think you'd show up yourself. A special occasion?"

Sancoeur flinches.

Ladybug raises a curious eyebrow. "Oh, so it is. What happened? The King throw another tantrum? Does he want more money? Because like I said, I'm completely broke. Like everyone else in this damned kingdom is."

"Do nottalk about King Gabriel like that. He is a good king, and you would be smart to watch your mouth when biting the hand that feeds you."

"Feed me? I have to fightjust to have a morsel of food on my plate. I don't live as the rest of you do, bathing in wealth while we barely survive. Now go back to your king and your prince and leave me alone."

Both Adrien and Sancoeur freeze at the mention of the prince.

"Oh. So something happened to your prince, then?"

Adrien's never seen his father's vizier look so angry. "What did you do to him?"

Ladybug rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. Like I'd want anything to do with someone as entitled as him." Suddenly, she squeezes his hand. "Besides, I already have one partner to keep me company."

"Ah, another pest to take care of." Sancoeur only sighs, before snapping her fingers. "Well, that shouldn't be an issue. I've brought a whole army this time. You won't get away."

At that, Ladybug is suddenly grabbed by a burly soldier, holding her so she can't escape. Two others hold Adrien back, separating them.

"I don't need the boy," she only says, turning back toward the exit. "King Agreste only wants Ladybug. But throw him into prison. Anyone who works with her is surely a menace to society."

"She's not a menace!"

Sancoeur looks back, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, so the alleycat can talk. Do you even know what she's done? That this woman has been stealing not only her fellow townspeople, but from the soldiers as well? The very people who are protecting you?"

"She's only stealing things to provide for those who can't. There are children, and they're starving. Dying— and she's only trying to save them." He struggles against the arms holding him captive. "If you would only listen, Nathalie!"

The vizier pauses. Then: "Let him go."

Almost reluctantly, they do.

Then, Sancoeur walks forward, with terrifying speed and precision, before whipping the hood off his head. "Prince Adrien," she finally says, eyes widening with shock. "So it's true? Ladybug really did take you?"

"No!"

He shakes his head. "Ladybug has done nothing. So let her go, now. As the Prince, I order you…"

She only ignores him, then snaps her fingers.

Two pairs of arms come to grab his own, again.

"Nathalie, what are you doing?"

She turns back, then sighs. "I'm sorry, Adrien. You gave me no choice." Sancoeur gives the two soldiers a brief glance, her eyes almost flashing with concern— but disappearing so quickly it's almost like he had imagined it. "Return the Prince to his chambers. I will deal with him later." Then, she turns to Ladybug; who had been eerily quiet since the exchange.

"Ladybug comes with me."

"Wait!" He starts, struggling to find the words. "Ladybug… I—"

The look she gives him is almost unreadable. Ladybug doesn't fight back; doesn't even struggle. She doesn't even turn back to him, not even for a glance, and walks away.

"Let's make an agreement. I'll give you all the riches you desire, enough to start a new life outside of this kingdom, if you do me one small favor."

"What do you want?"

"A simple thing. There's a cave, not so far from here. I've gotten old, and can't get it for myself but… I need a lamp."

"A lamp…?"

"Isn't it so simple? Retrieve this single item for me, and I will let you go. Is it agreed? Do we have a deal?"

Ladybug looks up at King Agreste, quiet.

Then:

"Where do I go?"

#auyeah2020 #mlauyeahaugust2020 #auyeahaugust #auyeah august #adrien agreste #ladybug #ladrien #ml #miraculous ladybug #milk writes #ml fic #ml fanfic #inspired by aladdin #hope that was clear ksdsjs

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Things Past

Summary: Arthur shares a childhood memory with Y/N. She sees it differently than he does.

Warnings: Mild angst

Words: 2,645

A/N: This was an anonymous request! Thank you for sending it to me - it was a real challenge. A big thanks to Karen, too. Not just for beta-ing, but for helping with the basis of the memory in question. (I had an idea but hers was much better.)

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Y/N was clad in her robe and brushing her teeth when Arthur entered the bathroom, flashed her a half-smile, and sat on the side of the tub. A mix of nicotine and cologne hung in the air. He must have smoked half a pack if he was trying to cover up the scent. The flexing of his bare toes on the dark tile floor, and the nibbling of his thumbnail caught her eye in the mirror. Once she rinsed, she grabbed a piece of floss and sat next to him, situating herself so they were hip to hip.

They were fast approaching five years together. Arthur and she still found respite in each other's presence. In shared warmth, not only in the familiarity of their affection, but also in the meeting of lips and bodies during lovemaking and otherwise. And in their companionable silences, which continued to hold a tacit acknowledgment that he could tell her whatever he needed, whether he uttered a simple word or two, or the rare paragraph.

Arthur appeared to be somewhere in the middle of that range of need now. It was evident in the tightness of his back as she put her palm on it. Rubbing gently, fingertips tracing his spine, she sought to bring him out. Like she had back when he'd sat on her sofa with his journal, a stand-up fresh off his first performance. The morning she'd realized she'd fallen in love with him.

His sigh let her know her attention was working. "Dr. Ludlow wants to talk about when I was a kid," he murmured. "I won't know what to say. I barely remember anything."

The subject of his childhood was seldom discussed. Even after his mother had passed away last spring; he'd been silent when they'd picked-up her belongings at the home. (He'd thrown out everything besides the periodic letters and photos Y/N had sent, stating "I like reading I make you happy.") They had never gone over the details in the Arkham file. He'd told her he hadn't and wouldn't look at all of it. He'd seen the headlines, scanned the psychiatric interview, touched the adoption certificate. That had been enough.

While he'd guessed she'd looked at Penny's records, she hadn't disclosed that she'd eventually read all it contained. Had learned the details of his neglect and abuse. Had seen the photos of his emaciated, bruised body. Her throat constricted as they flashed in her mind's eye. It was a mercy he wasn't aware of everything that had occurred. Even if his unconscious knew.

Of course, if he asked her, she'd answer any questions he had. Tell him all of it. But she didn't want to burden him. Or for him to feel shame, an unwarranted reaction her experience reading family cases had taught her was common. The two of them would keep doing what they always had: deal with the residual effects of his past, the symptoms of his illnesses together, as best they could. And for what she couldn't help with, he had his doctor and his journal.

"You can say whatever you want." Y/N bunched up the floss and tossed it towards the trash can under the sink, groaning as it bounced off the rim and back at them. "You could bring back some classic parts of your act. The one about how you hated school," she said, nudging his side. "And how the other kids were too unsophisticated to see what a sweet, funny boy you were."

He retrieved the plastic thread and stood up, threw it away. At his scoff, she realized her attempt to lighten his load hadn't worked. "That was, what? Over thirty years ago?" Then he turned to her, his thumb stuck in the waistband of his pajamas. "We have our life now. Why should it matter?"

Reluctance to admit one's past affected the present was understandable. She'd denied it to herself when she'd first moved to Gotham. Burying herself in her work had been enjoyable. And it had had the convenient side effect of allowing her to avoid processing the ways caretaking had changed her. Starting a relationship with Arthur had forced her to stop and take a breath, to examine its impact. It had done her good. She was certain it would him, too.

"Arthur." He took her proffered hand without pause and stepped to her automatically. She pressed her mouth above his navel, laid her cheek against the warm skin of his belly. "I'll be right here for you." The caress to her hair was featherlight and her hold on him tightened. "You've put so much work into yourself. This is difficult but you can do it."

Bending to her, he kissed the top of her head. "Go to bed. I don't wanna keep you up."

"It's all right if you do. I happen to like your company." At last, she succeeded in getting a chuckle out of him and a playful swat to her thigh. But he withdrew and wished her good night. Heading into their bedroom, she heard the click of the lamp in the living room, the opening of the door to the fire escape. He'd be outside for some time, she assumed. Quickly, she got one of his sweaters and brought it out to him. Though he raised a brow at her, his eyes were full of fondness. She slung the wool shirt over his shoulder and pecked his jaw before taking her leave.

~~~~~

Occasionally, Arthur would call her office before leaving for an appointment. He'd never say he was thinking of skipping a session. That he was having doubts they were working at all. That tough days were infrequent yet harsh. His flat tone and pauses clued her in, though. He'd been calm when he called today, and she'd kidded with him until his mood had buoyed and he'd said he was going. Promising a date night, if he felt up to it, had helped.

Currently, Y/N was in line at Marchetti's waiting for take-out. Wanting to catch-up on the evening news, she grabbed a Gotham Journal from the newsstand. Since the murders of Thomas and Martha Wayne in a robbery six months ago, Gotham's malfeasance appeared to have gotten worse. Reports of small businesses being cited for minor code violations, while establishments run by people with the right name and enough money were left to their own devices, flourished. Construction strikes had become more frequent, which she would normally support. But they had a way of ending as soon as the city placed a higher bid. The chief of police had been photographed hobnobbing with a crime boss, but the mayor had taken no action.

On top of it all, the Wayne Foundation, that thorn in her side, was drawing back many of the initiatives it had begun after increasingly austere program cuts. Including services at that damned medical center in Otisburg. They couldn't run out of funds, the board claimed. With the continuously sluggish economy, returns on their investments weren't what they used to be. The organization needed to ensure the Wayne's son would be taken care of.

Y/N didn't buy those excuses. She had nothing against the boy - she couldn't imagine losing her parents at such a young age. But how many mansions, gazebos, and toys did a child need? The skeptical part of her, the one that always suspected an angle, wondered if the increase in the city's corruption and the Wayne Foundations machinations were related...

Stop it, Y/N. Quickly, she shoved the paper back in its spinning rack. If she thought about it too much, she'd find a way to stumble into an investigation she couldn't ignore. While she'd be ready for one and relish it, she didn't want to focus on that tonight.

Their order was ready in about twenty minutes. Arthur and she had gotten into the habit of getting two individual pizzas, borne of his limited willingness to experiment with toppings. Normally, he was happy to take her recommendations, but he insisted cheese was just as good as any other kind and liked to have it to fall back on. She'd gotten Hawaiian for herself. If he was in the mood to eat, she was sure they'd split them.

Happy notes from the Sinatra live album she'd gifted him for his most recent birthday hit her as she opened the apartment door. It was a pleasant surprise. Arthur only listened to the LP when he was doing all right. (It had prompted him to tell her of his wish to go see him in concert together, and he didn't want to taint that with negative thoughts.)

Upon peeking around the corner from the kitchen, she spotted Arthur in his writing nook, scribbling hurriedly and tapping his feet to the beat. He was obviously engrossed, but she didn't think he'd mind if she interrupted. Soon she approached his desk, plates in hand. "Knock, knock."

A gentle snort as he put down his pen, "Who's there?"

"Delivery service." She propped her hip against the edge of his desk, and placed the food next to his journal, along with a paper towel. "You owe me a tip."

"I do, don't I?" He angled his head up and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "Thanks. I've only had coffee since this morning. Just been working on my material." Swallowing, he flipped back a page in his notebook. "How did the little boy learn to get home?" His green eyes met hers, a hiccup of laughter in his throat. He allowed about three seconds before giving her the punchline. "Step by step by step by step."

Her features softened and her grin drifted away as she absorbed what he'd jotted. In the past, his act had contained references to his childhood. References which could have been based on recollections, figments, or both. This was an observation in joke form, as his jests tended to be. "That's clever." She reached to brush a chestnut wave from his forehead, deciding to ask what she'd been curious about since she got in. "I'm glad you're doing so well. I take it therapy went better than expected?"

Nodding, he gave her a tight-lipped smiled, dimples on display. "Mhm." She moved to sit more fully on his desk, straightening as she secured her paper towel to the neckline of her blouse. They munched quietly, glancing between their slices and each other. It was clear he wanted to tell her more. After he finished his first bites, he shifted in his chair. "I remembered something nice."

A weight rolled off her shoulders, and the corners of her mouth turned up. "That's wonderful."

"Yeah." His teeth worried his thin bottom lip, his gaze going to his plate. "I was at school late - maybe I got in trouble for laughing. Penny was supposed to get me. But I think she forgot, so I had to walk home... It was dark. I hadn't gone that far by myself."

With every word he spoke, Y/N's elation ebbed, replaced by sympathy. But she didn't stop him. "The next day was the same. My mother wasn't there." He still switched back and forth between her name and that title, though he used the latter less and less. "I buttoned my coat and tied my shoes on my own." The satisfaction reflected in his expression contrasted with the pain welling in her. "The steps were icy, but I didn't fall once."

A hitched chuckle left him. "Penny stared at me when she finally answered the door. She couldn't believe I remembered the way home. Then she picked me up." His eyelids fluttered. And the beam on his face was blinding. "She said I was a good boy and told me I was big enough to walk home from then on. She gave me a quarter for a movie." His voice became small, as small as the boy in the story. "I think she was proud of me."

Y/N kept her stare fixed to the floor. Her chewing had slowed, then halted completely. A question nagged at her, even as she assumed the answer would hurt. "How old were you?"

A slight shrug in the corner of her eye. "Six? Seven?"

It shouldn't have stunned her that what he'd introduced as "nice" was to the contrary. But she was gutted. The implications behind it tightened her chest. Was it the last time his mother had held him? Had he gone to the damned movie theater alone, too? Why the hell had the city given him back to Penny?

She'd spent a lot of effort helping him learn that it was okay to be angry and upset sometimes. That he didn't have to lie to her about how he felt. That he didn't have to hide if things were too much for him or he had a bad day. And here she was, doing her best to paste on a smile for him. The difference, she supposed, was that it was to protect him. Not to lie to herself.

She didn't want him to have an inkling regarding the tumult she'd experienced in the last five minutes. That this memory wasn't ideal. Telling him how to feel about it would be crossing the line from honesty into cruelty. There had to be a truth in this she could be happy about. And following some pondering, she found one. He had so few memories from his youth. She supposed he'd been fortunate to retrieve one he considered positive, even though it broke her heart.

She permitted herself to sniff once, blinked a few times at the carpet, and looked to him. "I'm glad you have that to hold onto." Thank god she'd managed to keep her voice from wavering. She distracted herself by squeezing his hand, then brought his knuckles to her lips. "You deserve it."

After a sharp exhale, Arthur moved his palm to hold her shoulder and drew her to him. "You know how you needed me to get into NCB studios? To do your job?"

Twisting to put her plate on the desk, she couldn't stop her giggle. It hadn't been her job - it had been the opposite, frankly. "Of course."

"You're like that for me when it's hard." It was a simple comparison, but she thought it was one of the most beautiful she'd ever heard. She pushed her lips to his, titling her head to deepen the connection and cup his cheeks.

He loosened himself from her grip and grabbed the paper towel she'd tucked into her shirt. Laughing, he tried to wipe away the grease she'd gotten on his face. Y/N plucked the napkin from him and weaved her fingers into his silky hair, imploring him not to care. She looked down at him, unable to stop a smile from forming.

Damn, she was a lucky woman. How did he manage to cheer her, even with the ache lingering in her breast? She'd have to be extra sweet to him in the upcoming days. Hug him tighter, longer, until he pushed her off and shook his head with a smirk before pulling her back in again. It would soothe her, allow her to deal with the mixed emotions she felt at his recollection. Ensure his joyful mood stuck around and make him happy.

She'd start tonight. "We can skip Gotham News and watch whatever you want." She tapped his chest. "You pick."

"I like watching the news with you." He grinned, then. "But I rented a movie. A comedy from the thirties. There's dancing."

Comedies were much more his cup of tea than hers. But she'd watch anything to sit next to him, to see joy in his eyes, to hold and be held by him. She nuzzled at him and kissed his cheek. "I'm sure we'll love it."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @howdylilflower @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies@fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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bramble-rose · 4 years

Text

ABOUT REN SOHMA

(spoilers ahead)

Okay…. So take a deep breath.

I think Ren and Akira were really in love with each other and I think Ren is suffering from a form of postnatal depression.

In the manga it is often hinted that Ren had seduced Akira and would be a slut who was not worthy of him and had exploited his situation ...

After reading the story again, I do not think that was the case.

Akira was very ill and his diagnosis was that he was going to die very young. As the head of the family, he stood above everybody - which separated him from the other family members. Added to this was his illness, which further isolated him. The family had been urgently looking for a wife for him to bring an heir onto the scene, but no one was good enough. And I think this is where it started.

Ren was one of the many housekeepers of the Soma clan and was responsible for Akira. She cared for him, was always near him and noticed his emotional state, his loneliness. At least that is how it is told. She fell in love with him over time, but remained silent for a long time until she finally confessed her feelings to him.

It is also said that Akira had chosen her, among all the other women ... But Ren, as a simple maid, did not meet the level of esteem intended for Akira's future wife. There was much contradiction. Ren was insulted and not considered good enough. She was told to be a dirty witch, who was far below Akira and got his affection with tricks. It is implied that she simply seduced him. Ren is beautiful, you have to leave that to her.

However, both professed their love for each other, Akira also said that Ren alone recognized his loneliness and he married her in spite of all.

From this marriage, none other than Akito emerged - the reborn God of the Junnishi.

However, it were the already born Junnichi who knew about the pregnancy before Ren and Akira, because in a vision Akito appeared before them and announced that another banquet would be forthcoming. Ren was raided by the Junnichi one morning out of the blue .… And voila! All at once Ren's presence was no longer a thorn in the side of anyone. God would be born! Everyone was very happy - and everything was just about the kid. About Akito. About God.

And here is another important point.

Ren is disregarded as a person. Nobody cared about her anymore. Akira was also incredibly happy about the pregnancy. Through the vision everyone knew that Akito would become a girl and out of fear and jealousy that everyone would only love this girl, Ren threatened to abort Akito if she wasn‘t raised as a man ...

At this point you should think, why thought Ren that way? Even to the fact that only the baby mattered anymore and that she was just a vessel to everybody ... would it have been different if Akito had been a boy? Yes, I think so.

It is said that Ren was ashamed that the God she was going to give birth to was female. I think that's not the case. I think it's actually a messed-up jealousy for 'Daddy's Little Girl'. Ren was afraid that this child would drive a wedge between Akira and her, as Akito would be the God of the Junnishi. She would be all over the place. Ren saw Akito as another woman not as her daughter. She was a Rival (which is a trope that is often used in manga and anime… and it is really strange)

Well, Akira, of course, agreed to Ren's threat but was still happy about the birth.

Ren did not even want to hold the child.

This fight and all this points are important to understand why Ren has lost her mind. At first she was not good enough, she was insulted over and over again, even her family's home offended. Then she became pregnant and suddently everyone only loved the child, everyone was waiting for God. For the special Entity ... She was just their birth machine and the man she loved thought only of the divine child.

So as a toddler Akito had a hard time suffering under Ren. She physically and verbally abused Akito and raised her as a boy. Ren constantly blamed her, no matter what, that she would be useless and that Akira and Ren would not need her, Akira and Ren as a couple would be the only special onces because their connection had produced a special child.

From this time on it's always about who Akira loves more. His daughter or his wife?

A strange question since there are so many different varieties of love, but Ren's psyche and self-perception were already disturbed at the time. Otherwise she would have noticed that there is no reason for jealousy.

When Akira finally died, the secret is revealed ... Akira loved Akito. Of course, she was his daughter. But he said he wished that Ren could have loved her, too. He was sad that the two didn‘t got along and especially noted that Ren should have been happy about the birth of her child.

While he is dying he told Akito that she was special. She was God, she didn‘t need him or Ren. She was the God of the Junnichi and would be able to move on because everyone else has been waiting for her. She was born to be loved. After that he only talked about Ren, who was not called, even though her husband was dying.

He said that Ren and he had experienced true love and that their love was so special that they have begotten Akito, the God. That this would prove how special their love was.

So yes, Akira loved Ren deeply. Of course he did, she was his wife. Even though her outbursts made him unhappy, he always wanted the best for her. His last word was even 'Ren', as far as I can remember.

So what can you read from it? Akito was present during her father's monologue and as a small child she might thought that her father did not love her as much as she believed ... Akito's eyes are drawn throughout the scene without light effects. Actually a stylistic choice to describe the absence of emotions: Her father died ... she is traumatized.

When Ren stormed in she claimed Akito would not be needed anymore now that Akira was dead, Akitos supposed divinity would not be real and that the invisible bond between Akito and the Junnishi wasn‘t real (btw, it actually exists, Ren was wrong).

Ren felt helpless and was angry and sad that her husband died before she could said goodbye and blamed Akito.

Later that day Akito got a secret box from one of the housekeeper (she has no name). Supposedly it was a last gift from Akira to Akito to show how great their love for each other was. In the box was supposedly Akira's soul ....

Everything that happend to this point has made Akito extremly insecure and years later she stil believed that her father's soul is in that box.

Years later Ren learned about that box and wanted it for herself since everything that belonged to Akira belonged to her. She didn‘t know what was in it but that didn‘t matter. Ren even used Rin to get that box… and that ended badly.

But what does all this say about Ren?

I think through all the things that happened before and during and after the pregnancy Ren suffered from some kind of postnatal depression and never got over it. And after Akira died things got worse.

Akito is not directly one of the Junnichi, but she is obsessed with the spirit of God. And like almost all other parents in Fruits Basket, Akito's mother has been influenced by the curse.

Most parents in the story are violent, neglect their children, mock them, terrorize and abuse them and have no direct connection with them. Especially the mothers are greatly affected. So is Ren.

Ren thinks of Akito as the one who took Akira away from her. Emotional and physical. The loss has driven her crazy and the bond and the curse are something she can not grasp and understand, and so she loathes it. Because with the curse her and Akiras love started to fall apart. She does everything to torment Akito, insulting her, unsettling her and tries everything to destroy her identity. Both as God as well as a woman.

She even goes so far as to sleep with the man Akito loves the most.

( I can not help thinking, that Shiguri, as the mastermind he is, didn‘t just do that because he was so keen on her, he even said he just got into Ren because he thought Akito would look like Ren if she was raised as a woman ... So Shigure took advantage of Ren to imagen he has sex with Akito? That's weird … but that's Shigure, you never know what he's really thinking. And then there is the whole Kureno thing going on... But when Ren found out about this she was furious. Akito again took her place.)

All this does not make Ren's deeds better or excuses them, but it sheds another light on Ren, who is being vilified by everyone. And it absolutely explains why Akito is the way she is. The abused abuses ... but Akito is a different topic.

In the end, however, both were victims of a third person involved, beginning from the marriage of Ren and Akira, to his death and the question of who loved whom, and who would be the right heir as head of the familiy. This person was respinsible for and kept fireing on the hatred between mother and daughter. She had her fingers in the whole game: The housemaid without a name.

She insulted Ren for years.

She questioned everything Ren did.

She kept her away when Akira died.

She spur the hate/war between Akito and Ren… using the box/Akiras Souls and both their feelings.

She claimed Ren was insane.

She blindly obeys to the old family rules without thinking.

And… she, as one of those who raised Akito, let her do whatever she wanted and never taught her morals or boundaries.

She let both run amok and called it disgrace in secret….

And after Akito had seen her mistakes and wanted to change, the maid refused to change, claiming she was too old...

#fruits basket #fruits basket spoilers #fruits basket reboot #furuba #ren soma #ren sohma #akito sohma #akito soma #akira sohma #akira soma #the curse #zodiac #anime #manga #manga only #postnatal depression

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bytemycupcakes · 4 years

Note

Got a headcanon about Al's parents (And the rest of the hotel for shits and giggles)

I initially had alot of Alastor parent hcs before he was confirmed to be mixed race, I’ll keep them a bit vague since I haven’t altered them yet.

I will go into other characters, Overall warnings for abusive/neglectful parents

Alastor

-Alastor was always a mamas boy, she was the best thing of his relatively decent childhood.

-His father usually pretended he didn’t exist, favoring the pet dog since he didn’t want a child.

-Alastors mom was incredibly sweet, and believed that every human should learn any skill, thus taught Alastor many typically feminine chores. Sewing and cleaning are examples

-When Alastors parents died in the horrid cold of a blizzard, Alastor couldn’t stand to look at or accept his mother was gone.

-Once he was able to he burried her respectfully behind their home, while the remains of his father were left out for the forest animals until they became unrecognizable, then burried and unmarked.

-His father is in hell, his mother is hopefully in heaven, according to Alastor himself. He can’t imagine his mother would ever end up in Hell, but he didn’t know her that well, so he can’t be certain.

Angel Dust

-We all know that Angels father isn’t the best guy.

-He’s good when he wants to be, and was even incredibly doting on his wife after each child was born.

-Henroin treated Angels mom like she was a fragile piece of glass.

-The siblings dont know much about their mother, but Arackniss says she was kind, pretty, and overall the best mom ever. Sadly Henroin never talks about her, becoming quiet and prone to lashing out (more than usual) when shes brought up.

-After their mother dissapeared shortly after Angel and Molly’s birth, Henroin became incredibly protective of his kids for just a few years.

-Once Molly and Angel began developing personality, Henroin distanced and became harsher.

-He had done the same to Arackniss, and it worked on making him an obedient and cold hearted child, he wanted the same out of Angel and Molly.

-Yet that never happened.

-Angel and Molly both ended up being very happy children, Henroin seemed to soften up at Molly since she was his little girl... But Angel...

-Angel liked Molly’s things too much to be accepted.

-Henroin had no problems with having happy and hyper kids, they weren’t his favorite, but he would be able to manage two hyper twins if thats what he was stuck with. But no, of course it cant be easy for him, He’s stuck with two hyper and incredibly femine kids! And one of them is a boy!

-So he cracked down on Angel, and the stress of being a single father of three and running a mob added ontop of having a dissapointing son... He ended up lashing out at Arackniss and Molly too.

-He’s always known he was a bad father, and he apparently wanted to fix that, but he never “found the time”.

-Yet.. In hell, with all the time in the world? He still never changed.

-Really none of the siblings are surprised about that, he’s always been stubborn.

-Angels mother is in heaven

Vaggie (I have two dif hc sets for her, I’ll go with the one that lines up with older hcs of mine, if yall wanna know the other set feel free to ask)

-Vaggie doesn’t know anything about her dad. She never has, and it doesn’t bother her that much

-She was raised by her mother ever since she could remember.

-The two struggled for money often, and it just got worse when her mother ended up having her twin half brothers from a hook up.

-Of course they were excited to have more family, but that also meant more mouths to feed.

-Vaggie eventually lost cound of how many jobs her mother had, Vaggie having to take care of her little brothers whenever her mother was working.

-Despite the struggle they were happy, her brothers grew up and seemed to excel in elementary school.

-Vaggie took up whatever jobs she could get once she was able too. Her mother inststed she had no need to do such a thing, but Vaggie wanted to help as much as possible.

-Her mother was grateful, at her old age she needed to drop a few jobs for her own health. She has two young boys! She cant die on them. (Or on Vaggie, but she’s practically an adult, she can care for herself while the boys cant)

-Sadly this all spiraled and Vaggie was eventually killed during some of her more questionable work.

-Vaggies mother is still alive, as are her brothers. She mourns Vaggie every day and has a locket with Vaggies picture inside on her person at all times.

Niffty

-Niffty doesn’t remember much of her mom. Though she died when Niffty was 6, Niffty’s memory is just too bad.

-Thanks to her father.

-Niffty’s father, while generally loved by the town and her brothers, was an awful man to his wife and daughter.

-Niffty’s mom having died from the abuse, and Niffty being driven to suicide at the age of 22 from the same thing.

-He ran a small toy buisness, training his four sons to take it over when he passed.

-Toy making and buisness weren’t the only things he taught his sons. As each one was just as abusive as him.

-To their own wives, and to Niffty

-Niffty’s father was prideful, stoic, and incredibly harsh.

-Niffty has no idea where her mom could have ended up, but is pretty damn sure that her father (and brothers) ended up in Hell.

Husk

-Husk never knew his mom. He CAN become sensitive about it, but usually doesn’t mind.

-Husk adores his dad just as much as Alastor adores his mother.

-Husk was raised by a single father and casino staff.

-His father was a joyful magician and an excellent buisness man, owning his own small casino.

-He was a loving father, always scooping up Husk, doing cheesy magic tricks, and making his adored son laugh.

-But nothing can stay happy for long.

-Husks father ended up losing the casino, breaking Husks heart by doing so, but he was far more attached to his magician work.

-Even so Husks father was depressed, losing his joyful attitude and growing distant with his son.

-In only a few years after losing the casino, just months before Husk was to turn 18, Husks father became ill and died.

-Husk assumes his father ended up in Heaven, the man wasn’t perfect, but he was by no means as sinful as Husk.

-If it turned out Husks father was in hell, he’d probably be totally heartbroken, even if that meant he got to see his dad again.

Rosie (Because Im in a big Rosie mood)

-Rosie had a loving mother and a cruel father.

-Well, cruel to his family at least, otherwise he was a fairly respected man

-Rosie was the oldest of five daughters, and helped her mother raise the others.

-Her mother was rather soft spoken, and lacked confidence, something Rosie is very grateful she didn’t inheret, even if all her other sisters did.

-Rosie being the oldest was supposed to inheret her fathers fortune, but any time she tried to talk to him about it, he would dodge the topic.

-It was clear he wanted a son to inheret the name, but after five children, Rosie’s mother was in no place to have another child.

-Luckily he was able to accept that. Yet still refused to let Rosie take the family fortune, even when she tried to say her future husband will take it rather than her.

-He was a stubborn man.

-Keeping his wife and daughters in line as much as possible, it seemed Rosie’s whole family turned on her.

-Mother and sisters begging her to stop bringing up the issue, just fall in line and maybe he’ll be kind.

-Rosie refused to back down, but knowing it was a losing battle, and unable to convince her sisters or mother to be on her side, she broke into her fathers safe, stole as much cash as she could fit in her hand bag, and ran away. She chose to live her own life, rather than being a “perfect daughter” in fruitless hopes that her father would give her the family name.

-Rosie is unsure of her parents whereabouts, She assumes it’s likely both ended up in hell. Even with her mothers kind nature, she believes her passive nature would have lead her to commiting enough sins to fall.

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel Alastor #hazbin hotel angel dust #Hazbin Hotel Vaggie #Hazbin Hotel Husk #Hazbin Hotel Niffty #Hazbin Hotel Rosie #Hazbin Hotel Molly #Hazbin Hotel Arackniss #Hazbin Hotel Henroin #Hazbin Hotel Headcanons

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