#that post that’s like 13 year old me was so angry and she was right lives in my head rent free
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were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman
pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character
warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread
inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift
word count: 5.6k
author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!
~*~*~
When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future.
It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.
She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior.
At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise.
She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.
May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)
I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it.
I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly?
But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.
When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us.
At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.
I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.
I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?
The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right?
But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.
After two years, seven months and 12 days, I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?
When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when.
I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag.
June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck)
I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?
I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.
I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other.
Yet we still hurt each other.
This fucking hurts.
You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did.
Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional.
When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down.
Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?
I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better.
All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured.
It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.
And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.
The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.
I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for?
So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.
Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always.
So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?
I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to.
I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?
You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.
Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you.
Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?
It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.
I fucking loved you.
I wish it ended differently.
July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)
I really really fucking miss you.
I do.
I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too.
I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.
I miss having you as a friend.
I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.
Do you get the urge to do the same?
July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)
It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen.
Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.
The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now.
In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.
I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.
Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too.
October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)
It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday.
Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?
But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago.
Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered.
Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this.
But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed.
I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore.
But I did once.
You did too, right?
November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)
I hate Halloween.
Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there.
Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me.
It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond.
We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?
Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known.
Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd.
I looked for you in every crowd for years.
That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me?
I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months.
It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.
I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then.
But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that.
I hate Halloween.
November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)
I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me.
Or maybe not.
I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized.
Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.
June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)
Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack
I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.
I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.
I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best.
I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important.
I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome.
But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on.
I hope you're moving on.
And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight.
If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.
Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met.
Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up.
But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day.
Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door.
She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.
And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that.
She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.
After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.
Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles.
Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t.
Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city.
It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.
Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster.
(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)
She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city.
The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too.
She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee.
Jeremy walks into the book store.
Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red.
As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.
Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her.
The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything.
The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways.
The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with.
Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same.
“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out.
Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all.
He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence.
“I see you bought my book.”
“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”
“You’ve been watching?”
She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”
“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”
She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”
“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does.
She swallows. “I appreciate that.”
“I’ve already read it, you know.”
“Read what?”
Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”
“Oh.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”
She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”
“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..”
He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”
“Could I get a signed copy?”
“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”
He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”
“You’ve already done that.”
“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”
She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”
“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?”
“We’re just going in circles now.”
“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”
“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”
“The point, is that I still love you.”
“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”
He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”
“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”
“I do.”
“And what are you going to do about that?”
“What are you going to let me do?”
“I live in Brooklyn.”
“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”
She tries again. “It’s been five years.”
“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”
Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”
“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”
“I hurt you too.”
He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”
“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”
“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”
“Even after reading the book?”
“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”
“Try for what?”
“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”
“Why did you never text me?”
“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”
“The message?”
“You blocked me, right?”
Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”
He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”
“Who are you guys playing?”
“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”
She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.
to my first fan,
i still love you too.
xxx-xxx-xxxx
yours,
noelle
He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused.
“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”
“Oh.”
“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”
“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”
She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”
His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.
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While we’re talking about cognitive dissonance, I know that all my rage comes from being abused at home then coming to school and being shamed and sent to the principal’s office constantly. Being labeled as this entitled problem kid when I just wanted to draw in class, or had never been taught how to interact with people in a healthy way bc my house was pure chaos.
Like I always had good grades and I was so creative, I was so passionate about art and I was silly and caring and I just wanted to hang out with my friends and doodle in class.
Obviously all children and people in general deserve care and safety regardless of grades or any kind of respectability politics.
But all I was ever told was how disrespectful I was bc I was already fed up with authority figures as an elementary aged kid. That I saw the hypocrisy in being expected to respect people that had no respect for me, that I was expected to be more emotionally intelligent than grown adults with whole degrees in child development.
I understand now that that mistreatment was rooted in white supremacy, patriarchy, and the devaluation of children. It all destroyed my little nervous system and sense of self. To the point I can’t really celebrate any of my accomplishments bc there’s always that voice in the back of my head that I don’t fit here.
But all of that is also what makes it easier to choose what side I’m on in any social movement. Why side with the people who will never see my humanity, even with all the privilege and access to education I have. Why choose people who will discard me the second I disobey or criticize them?
I applied for this scholarship recently from this organization of Latinx librarians and I wrote about how I learned about mutual aid and community care from all the immigrant moms who cared for me as a kid. I don’t have any extended family in the US so my parents would rely on other immigrant families to care for us if they were busy working.
They’re the ones who supported me as a kid, not my white teachers. And at the very least my trauma teaches me to have solidarity with other people, and no faith in oppressive institutions loll.
#that post that’s like 13 year old me was so angry and she was right lives in my head rent free#it feels silly to call it trauma sometimes but I also have like debilitating cptsd from it so loll#personal
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roommates - ellie williams (7)
au
fem!reader x elliewilliams!
part six, here
content warning: explicit language, sexual thoughts & acts, reader has parental issues
// initial summary: the day after you officially moved into your new college dorm, you decide to take a look around the school, getting familiar to the clubs that they have to offer as well as the libraries, classes and cafeteria. you come back to your dorm in hopes of taking a shower and sitting in quiet solitude, but your plans are disrupted by your new roommate moving in… ellie williams. //
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“10/10.” you practically devoured the deep-friend oreos that were in front of you. “they put their whole heart and soul into these greasy ass cookies.”
ellie chuckled at your ‘greasy ass cookies’ comment. “couldn’t agree more.”
after you were done, you took a couple of sips of your slurpee and stared at the girl across from you. it was dark out now, the only thing lighting up the scenery were the rides, stands and tall post lights. ellie has made today feel like a dream. you guys did in fact go on every ride, even when ellie wanted to coward out, she still went for the sake of watching you glow with excitement.
“thanks for today, el.” you said as she was midway through her oreos. “i needed it.”
she looked at you with a cheeky smile. “no problem. i hated seeing you so down earlier. people like you don’t deserve to feel like that.”
“so don’t people like you.” you reminded her. “if you don’t mind me asking, whatever happened to kat? haven’t heard from her in awhile.”
ellie’s smile dropped. “um, i got a restraining order against her like the week after she showed up at our dorm. my dad suggested it’d be for the best. kat had always been sort of a loose cannon, better to be safe than sorry.”
your tongue cleaned the food stuck in your teeth as you thought about what ellie said. “i’m proud of you. that must’ve been really hard, especially considering the amount of time you and kat were together.”
“yeah, it was…” ellie nodded, the sounds of others excited chatter and rollarcoasters swooshing around filled the empty space of silence between the two of you.
“i- um- earlier, when i was upset,-“ you tried finding the words to be open with her in the way she’s been open with you. “my mom called me a few days ago telling me that my dad was back in town and he wanted to see me. understand that my dad wasn’t really there for me growing up, he left when i was fairly young for some ‘woman’ who was barely legal. and even when he was there, he wasn’t the greatest father.”
ellie’s eyes didn’t leave yours. she wanted to take in all that you had to share as this was the first time you’ve ever really talked about your family. “sure, he would spoil me rotten and shower me with love, but only when he felt like it. when he would get angry, all he would see was red. there’d be times when i’d pretend to be asleep when my parents would fight. they were so loud, so angry and so terrifying to hear as a 5-year-old little girl.” ellie thought about how you reacted when she told you about kat. you were so understanding and so gentle with her. you didn’t push her for answers or lash out on her when she froze up.
“i mean, they still are, 13 years later, at the ripe age of 18.” you corrected yourself as your eyes watered. “that shit still haunts me, and for some reason my mom just wants me to get over it and visit ‘home’ before winter break, or more like visit before my father has to go back to his other family and spend christmas with them.”
ellie got up from her seat and moved to sit beside you. she was never really good with words and decided to bite back her tongue, not wanting to risk saying something stupid. instead, she wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close. you faintly smiled into her shirt as you hugged her waist.
once she was able to find what she hoped would be the rights words, she spoke. “i’m sorry about your dad.” ellie then placed a kiss on top of your head. “he doesn’t deserve to see who you’ve become.”
your smile grew as you wiped away your tears. you pulled away to look into ellie’s comforting dark green eyes. your eyes trailed over to the mini painting of a tiger on ellie’s cheek. you drew a thumb over it as you cupped her face. “how do you do that?”
“do what?” ellie asked, slightly leaning into your hand.
“how do you make me feel so safe and loved?” you asked. “how do you do that?”
ellie shrugged with a crooked smile. “i’ve been told i'm a lot like my dad, and he's always been really good at making me feel that way. i guess that’s where i get it from.”
you chuckled and pulled your hand away. “yeah, maybe that’s what it is. though, i would have to meet your dad to actually confirm this.”
“oh, my dad would love you.” she said.
“really?” you asked.
“yeah, trust me.” ellie brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear, 'forgetting' to mention the fact that she’s already told joel all about her roommate and that he already loved her. you smiled, feeling very flattered. “but come on, the carnivals about to close and i want to try to win that big ass stuffed rocket ship.”
you grabbed yours and ellie’s trash and threw it in one of the garbage cans on your way to the stand. the game seemed simple enough, you had 10 rings with 5 bottles in front of you. in order to win the big stuffed rocket ship, you’d have to throw a ring around each bottle with the 10 that you received. unfortunately, for ellie, things were not panning out as she hoped. “what the fuck, man? i played volleyball in high school so i know my aim isn’t shit.”
“let me try.” you grabbed the ten rings from her hand and tried remembering a technique an old friend taught you. you took a deep breath in and out as you closed one eye. the key was to throw the rings slowly and slightly off the center of the bottle. you faintly flicked your wrist a few times before carefully and slowly throwing the ring. “yay!” you cheered as it landed.
“one down, four to go.” the host at the stand said. “don’t get too excited.”
ellie gave the man a dirty look for trying to rain down on your parade. “yeah, okay sunshine.” she snarked.
you smiled at her comment before successfully doing it again. the host just rolled his eyes and wished to be eating a corn dog instead of listening to the preppy cheers that escaped your lips.
you got more anxious as you successfully landed it again, ellie usually failed after the two-bottle mark so now the pressure was really on. the fourth try, you missed, making the host smirk. he only had that one life sized rocket ship, which was the main attraction to his stand. no way did he want you winning it. you tried again and to no avail, failed.
ellie, just as excited and nervous as you were, placed her hands on your shoulders. she pushed her lips against the side of your ear and whispered words of encouragement to you. “you got this, (y/n). you’re so close, like it’s literally right there. the rocket is yours, just focus.”
your heartbeat was racing at how close she was and how warm her breath felt against your ear. needing to see those piercing green eyes that filled you with an immense amount of love, you turned your neck to face her. your faces were barely an inch away from each other. your eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips before placing a kiss on her cheek.
were friends allowed to kiss each other on the cheek? if not, i don’t really care. you thought to yourself.
a wave of electricity shot from ellie’s cheek, and a slight smirk overtook her lips when you turned back to the bottles. with the thought of wanting to win the stuffed toy for ellie, you were able to successfully land a ring around the fourth bottle. the game host gulped the lump in his throat, praying to whatever god he believed in that you would, eventually, fail miserably.
ellie happily wrapped her arms around your waist and dug her face in the crock of your neck. “one more, (y/n).” you chuckled at how giddy ellie was. “one more and that rocket ship is yours.”
your next two tries went horrible as you failed. ellie’s arms wrapped around you tighter as she decided to return the kiss you gave her on the cheek by placing one at the bottom of your neck. “just breathe.” she whispered. the kiss she left you and the heat of her breath against your skin was enough to help you relax. you took a long and deep breath in and then out as you focused your aim. with a single slow and careful flick, the ring successfully landed on the last bottle.
you excitedly turned to ellie and wrapped your arms around her neck and just like a cheesy 2000s movie, she lifted you off the ground and spun you in circles. the game host face palmed at the realization of someone beating his game and winning the rocket ship.
“that’s my girl.” ellie smiled as she placed you back down.
my girl the phrase bounced around your head like a racket on the tennis court. when you turned around to look at the game host, you smiled proudly. “one human sized rocket ship please!”
with much to his dismay, the game host detached the stuffed toy from it’s hook and handed it to you. you gave the toy a slight squeeze before turning around to face an equally, but probably even more, excited ellie. “here.” you held out the rocket ship.
“what? for me?” ellie asked.
“duh, for you.” a chuckle left your mouth. “i couldn’t have done this without my cheerleader.”
ellie took the toy and laughed. “isn’t she just the best?” ellie snarkingly asked the game host.
he just rolled his eyes and turned around to set back up his game. ellie wrapped an arm around your neck and pulled you closer as the two of you began walking away. “no, but seriously, you’re like my favorite person in the world right now.”
your arms snaked around her waist as you looked up at her with a toothy smile. “i feel so honored.”
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you and ellie were now back in your dorm. you had both already showered and changed into your most comfortable set of pajamas while the big rocket ship sat tall in between you and ellie.
"i love the rocket ship but i need to find a new place for it." you heard ellie say as she got up. "i hate how i can't see your face."
"awh," you teased her. "you love me."
"probably." ellie half-heartedly joked. the auburn-haired girl was able to make space in between her desk and dresser for the stuffed toy.
once she got back in bed and faced you, it still did not feel like enough. she sighed annoyingly, wanting to so desperately feel your arms around her again. "is something wrong?" you asked.
"no." she said in an unconvincing tone.
you furrowed your eyebrows. "ellie..." your dragged out the last 'e' in her name.
"forget about it, (y/n), it's not that big of a deal." ellie shrugged off. "just go to sleep."
it's not that big of a deal, my ass. you thought to yourself. she clearly felt bothered by something and you being you, could not let it go. "ellie." you whispered. her eyes were closed and you wondered weather the girl had already fallen asleep. "ellie." you whispered again
ellie sighed annoyingly as she turned around so her back was facing you. you were making this a lot harder than it had to be for her. "rude." you muttered. you tried going to sleep, but couldn't as your brain nagged you with thoughts of how ellie might be feeling.
without giving it much thought, you got out of bed and laid beside ellie. a smile crept up on the girl's lips when she felt the bed dip and you get under the covers. instinctively, you turned to your side to spoon your roommate. "can't ignore me like this." your cool and minty breath against her neck, sent shivers down her spine. you noticed and bit back a smirk.
she turned around to face you and wrapped her own arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her. she smirked as she did so. realizing this is what she wanted, you chuckled. "this is what you were making a big deal out of?" your faces were just centimeters away; the closeness made your stomach feel as if you were still on a roller-coaster. "you could've just asked me."
ellie's heartbeat quickened as she tried everything in her power to resist closing the small gap that lingered so delicately between the two of you. her hand slid under your shirt. she started drawing small circles on your back with her thumb. "would you have said yes?"
your hand fisted a handful of her shirt as you shimmed a knee in between her legs. this was you’re way of compensating over the fact that you couldn't kiss her as she gently brushed her thumb over your chilled and exposed skin. "good point." your chest felt heavy as you leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose. you then nuzzled your face below her chin. "goodnight, ellie."
"goodnight, (y/n)." she said before grabbing your hip and pulling you closer.
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part eight, here
// authors note: how are we feeling about this? be honest. i personally love it, writing the tension was so much fun, especially the cuddling scene. ugh, so cute. i went back and fourth with writing the parental issues since i understand not everyone will be able to relate but i really wanted to give (y/n) more depth so i decided to add that in. if you really don’t like it, i don’t mind you pretending like (y/n) shared something entirely different instead of the parental issues. it’s your imagination, go crazy!! anyway, i hope you guys are having a great day and if not i am sending my best wishes! //
#ellie williams fanfic#tlou#ellie williams#tlou2#college ellie!#ellie williams au#elliexreader#fluff#ellie williams x reader#ellie x fem!reamder#angst#tension
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AITA for not wanting to go on a walk and then telling the truth?
📚⛷️ for later
I (14f) am currently on vacation in the Alps skiing. For context, I have two younger brothers (12 and 6). What my family usually does is ski in the morning, have lunch, and then either ski some more or play board games together in the afternoon. Before, we used to go on walks in the afternoon but we stopped once we started getting better at skiing and got tired faster.
My mum loves to go on walks and regularly goes out. For the past few years she usually goes on walks in the morning when the rest of the family is out skiing as she has an injury that prevents her from skiing. Today I went with her as I am also injured lol.
My brothers and I do not like to go on walks. We’re very vocal about it, I do enjoy walking in the city (where I live) however and we all play a lot of sports so health is not an issue. This morning I decided to go with her and we went on an hour-long walk (It was snowing and the ground was very muddy, and my injury is worse when I breathe hard). She seemed upset that it wasn’t longer but she is the one who insisted that we go home.
This afternoon she drags everyone out on another walk. My dad and brothers were clearly exhausted (it was their first day and we had a 13-hour drive to come here) but my dad was a good sport and we all went out.
So now we’re all out walking and we keep the complaints to a minimum; obviously my youngest brother wasn’t very good at it but he sensed the tone of the walk and wasn’t too bad. After about an hour there comes a split in the path ; one continues straight and one goes directly up a very steep hill. My mom asked us what we wanted to do and none of us replied; I don’t know what my brothers did but I just looked at my dad. My mom then got very mad and said “Let’s just go home, you never want to do stuff like this” I argued that I hadn’t said anything, but apparently she could see it in my eyes.
While we walk back she was very mad still and kept complaining about how we never want to do stuff that she likes (sidenote: this summer we went on a 3-week long road trip where we went to Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, Sequoia National park, Death Valley, and Sedona; it was very walk/hike-heavy and it was largely because of her that we went). This is where I think I might be the asshole: at some point I got angry as well and said that she knows very well that we do stuff like this all the time, and why force us to do something that she knows that we’re not going to like? She has been giving me the silent treatment ever since.
Another sidenote since I’m trying to give all possible information: we always come to the same place since before I could walk, but always in winter. Mom been talking about how she wants to come here in summer a lot recently and is trying to sell it to us by saying how pretty it is and how many walks we could do.
Last piece of extra information: My mom had walked the entire valley that were in right now and back and least three times over the years ; the path was definitely nothing that she hadn’t seen before.
My brothers and I are staying in the same room at the moment so she came to say goodnight to the youngest only (this is not the right post for favoritism so I’m not going to go into that) and right before she left she looked at me and 12-year-old brother and just said that she knows that we don’t love her. I find this really childish and an immature way to deal with this.
Thank you for all the help
What are these acronyms?
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@blankwhiteshield I thought I would respond in a separate post since I don't want to derail from @fromtheseventhhell's OG post about something else. You responded to my comment here by saying that I was 'entirely wrong' and linking to an essay on Jaime Lannister and I did try to read through all that to get a gist of your explanation.
First I want to mention that Rhaegar being a pre-asoiaf/background/tertiary character means we don't know a lot about him. I can only speculate as to his thoughts and motives and why he did what he did.
I wrote that comment because the absolute hypocrisy of Jaime Lannister apologists/Braime shippers critiquing Rhaegar grinds my gears something fierce. And I am not even a Rhaegar fan - he's a character that there's to set other characters on their journey and to set the story.
The consequences of Jaime's incestual adultery was the spark that lead to the WOT5K that two years on is still ongoing with no stability in war torn Westeros. Jaime Lannister attempts to murder a little child because he can't keep it in his pants for the short duration they are visiting the Starks. Jaime was hunting down a 9 year old to cut off her hand. That poll about Rhaegar being a bad father when Jaime refers to Joffrey as semen in Cersei's cunt is a farce.
Hence my comment.
Now, let's start with Jaime being Aerys' hostage. Yes, Aerys used Jaime against Tywin. However, why was Jaime in the Kingsguard (KG) in the first place? He was Tywin's golden child and heir to Casterly Rock, unlike Cersei and Tyrion having no value for Tywin because she is a girl and he is disabled.
Aerys had no power over Jaime until he chose to join the KG to serve the Mad King. Jaime had more choice than the 14 year old bastard Jon Snow who had to leave Winterfell and the NW is pretty much the only option available to him. He had more choice than his sister Cersei. He had more choice than disabled Tyrion getting physically/sexually abused by his own family.
So why did Jaime decide to join the KG? So that he could be close to Cersei and sleep with her. Jaime joins the KG knowing that he was going to break the KG oaths of celibacy. He didn't care about oaths when joining the KG , right?
This is why Jaime's entire spiel about oaths never had any emotional weight for me, coming from a character who had no value for oaths in the first place and who had no intention of upholding his sworn oaths when he joined the KG.
I can understand a character like Jon Snow's angst and conflict when he is forced to sleep with Ygritte or when he has to choose between the NW and saving his sister, because oaths are important to Jon Snow. Oaths and honor is important to someone like Ned Stark. Jaime? Considering his total disrespect for the KG oaths when he joins them to simply be close to Cersei, I don't get it.
Next, Rhaegar's conversation with Jaime.
Why do you assume here that Jaime was scared of Aerys and asking Rhaegar to save/rescue him from Aerys? I mean, Jaime was KG. At 13 he won his first melee. At 15 he was defeating other skilled swordsmen.
It could just as well be Jaime eager to fight with Rhaegar in battle and asking that Rhaegar leave behind the older KG like Darry to instead guard the king because the battle is where the fight is. Jaime thinks that guarding someone is not as exciting as fighting in battle. It's even right there in the next sentence when Jaime gets angry about being referred to as a crutch and he's like ' I AM A KINGSGUARD'.
We see something similar when Jon begs his uncle to take him for ranging.
Three days after their arrival, Jon had heard that Benjen Stark was to lead a half-dozen men on a ranging into the haunted forest. That night he sought out his uncle in the great timbered common hall and pleaded to go with him. Benjen refused him curtly. - Jon, AGoT
There's also not much Rhaegar can probably do at that point (speculating here) - facing war/battle - about his volatile, angry father, the King. There are all these essays about the effect that Tywin had on Jaime... imagine the burden of being the Mad King's son. What power does Rhaegar have to take away the King's choice of KG? Rhaegar didn't even have the power to send his own wife and children elsewhere. Him actively interfering was only going to further anger a king who was already paranoid about the crown prince. Hence the 'I dare not take away that crutch from him at such a hour'.
I think you also mention that Jaime was terrified of being executed as an hostage - is this mentioned anywhere in the books or are you just assuming/speculating on his thought process here?
Jon Snow is elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch at 16. In Westeros 16 is considered a man grown and Jaime is an adult by Westerosi standards and Rhaegar certainly didn't see him as some kind of child hostage like that post deliberately twisted it into.
A boy in Westeros is considered to be a "man grown" at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.
At any rate, Rhaegar and Jaime's fellow KG expected the KG left behind in KL - Jaime Lannister - to do his job and protect the crown prince's wife and babies as per sworn oaths.
In which Jaime fails because while his father's men, including the Mountain, were scaling the walls to rape and murder Elia and her babies, Jaime was lounging on the throne waiting for one of the rebels to get there. And hence his guilt when confronted by ghosts of his past in his weirwood dreams.
You have written a lot on how Jaime could not have known about what Tywin's men would do. I mean, why is he waiting around to find out what they would do?! Sorry, these are piss poor excuses and even Jaime Lannister himself doesn't really believe this because he knows that he should have immediately gone to their side after the King was dead as his ghosts tell him.
Jaime knows his father. He knows what Tywin is capable of. He was there for what Tywin did to Tysha. KL was even then being raped and pillaged. And he thought nothing would happen to the Targaryen princess and her children?
The Mad King was dead - literally backstabbed by the hostage. What should this skilled Kingsguard do next? Immediately go to Elia and the babies to protect Rhaegar's family as Rhaegar entrusted him to do or sit on the Throne waiting for someone to come there? We know what Jaime chose to do:
'Then he climbed the Iron Throne and seated himself with his sword across his knees to see who would come to claim the kingdom. As it happened, it had been Eddard Stark'.
This is what is given to us in the books. Nothing more, nothing else. You can add to this of course, but that would be speculative theorizing on what Jaime's thoughts and feelings are about all this, not what is actually given to us in the books.
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Dazai X Odasaku!Sister CH13
Chapter 13: "Celebrating Life Is Stupid”
Summary: After reuniting and growing closer, Dazai and Oda’s sister truly realize the value of each other and the sad bandaged boy falls deeper into the dangerous fascination and infatuation that is Odasaku’s little sister.
Warnings: pm!sixteen year old Dazai, pm! sixteen year old chuuya, ginger is very angry, Suicide mentions, guns, manipulation on both sides, Odasaku death mentions, Dazai being a Simp, Dazai being the demon prodigy but also baby at the same time.
(This is chapter thirteen of my fanfic "Timeless" which is now on A03. It carries on from the three part intro I posted a couple days ago. I'll link it below to fully understand the story. Asagao's ability is to stop time for up to six seconds.)
Three Part Intro (Broken up because the first ch is so long)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
A03 Version Here:
Word count: 6k total
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Tapping his feet in already brewing annoyance, Chuuya pushed his phone closer to his ear as each ear grating ring pissed him off by the second. And honestly, by the third one he debated throwing the entire object into the wall next to him in a fit of frustration.
He knew that little mackerel was doing this on purpose, sending his calls to voicemail over and over again. That guy never had anything notable going on and he knew the boss was gonna have his ass if he didn’t get in contact with that little shit.
But fortunately, or rather unfortunately for him, the line picked up on the fifth ring only to hear that same happy go lucky, irritating sing-song tone he alway seemed to use.
He hated that sound more than anything, mostly because the ginger he was about to be made fun of. “Oh Chuuuuuya, what an impatient little dog you are, blowing up my phone like this. Can't get enough of me I see.”
Gritting his teeth to hold his outburst, Chuuya simply scoffed. “Shut up, it's your own damn fault for not picking up. I know you are doing it on purpose, you shitty little mackerel.”
The voice on the other hands only hummed though, obviously unbothered. “So rude, Chuuuya, assuming such things. I am actually very busy right now. Which is why your interruption is way less pleasant than usual. And that’s saying something, considering your presence is never pleasant.”
Chuuya knew better though. “Bullshit, you’re never busy. You’re probably just fucking around somewhere.”
Just then, he heard a fake ass gasp on the side of the phone only for Dazai to answer straightforwardly. “If you call “fucking around” me currently pinning down a beautiful woman then I suppose you're right about that. Isn’t that right, love?”
Almost immediately, the ginger felt bile work its way into his throat, shoving the feeling down before shouting back roughly. “Ah, you’re so fucking disgusting! I don’t wanna know about that shit.”
Oh my god, why did he have to bring up that kind of stuff?! The last thing he wanted to do was picture shitty stupid Dazai like that, especially with some nonamed whore or brain dead manipulated bitch.
That poor soul that was with him right now, the one Dazai just called love, he pitied her, whoever she was.
Forcing the idea from his mind, Chuuya then shook his head before adding. “Listen, the boss gave us another mission in a couple days and I wanna make sure you don’t try to ditch again or else I’m gonna kill you for real, got that?!”
He knew the kid’s pattern after all, Chuuya knew how flighty and unreliable that stupid mackerel really was and he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to get dragged into that again. The first time he flaked was bad enough.
But as expected, Dazai didn’t sound serious, he didn’t even sound remotely interested in his threats as the boy simply waved the question away. “Don’t worry slug, I’ll be there. Can’t have my dog getting lonely, now can I?”
At that name, Chuuya felt his anger spike, the boy unable to stop his outburst. What was his damn problem?! “You fuckin…I’m not a dog!!’
Dazai’s voice only came back confused though, his voice just as annoying, cheerful and mocking as usual. “How strange, all I can hear is woof woof woof so I’m gonna hang up now! See ya, Chibi.”
And just like that, the line turned dead, causing the ginger’s eye to twitch before tightening his hold on his phone before giving into the impulse and throwing the object against the wall next to him.
Watching the phone shatter to prices before his eyes, Chuuya then shook his head before grumbling out his frustrations to absolutely no one.
“I’m gonna kill him..”
——-
Closing his flip phone absentmindedly, Dazai simply smiled to himself before placing the object back into his pants pocket only to hear the voice underneath him speak out hopefully. “Was that Chuuya?”
The boy only shook his head though, pushing his foot further into the speakers chest in order to shove his enemy further into the ground roughly. “Don’t sound so happy about it. That slug shouldn’t gain such a reaction.”
His opponent only put her hands out in defense though, turning her head curiously to the side with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
Dazai expected that kind of response though, his eyes moving up in order to glance around the familiar port mafia owned warehouse that they had spent the last hour or so before she spoke again.
And this time, it was far more pushy than before. “Sooo, what did he say?”
Already feeling his lips twist into a bitter smirk, Dazai’s foot then pushed deeper into her chest, exulting double the amount of force in order for her to stop speaking. “Those aren’t the kinds of things you should be worried about, Asa-chan, considering the position you're in right now..”
Which was something that Asagao seemed to be missing in her tiny little brain considering he was currently pinning her down to the dirty and dusty warehouse floor by his foot. He clearly had the upper hand here so there was no reason for her to speak so casually.
That, and the fact that she was asking about Chuuya of all people in this sort of dangerous position caused Dazai’s sick and twisted port mafia heart to darken with malice. He was the one she was supposed to be focusing on, not that glorified hat rack.
She was at the mercy of the demon prodigy and she was acting like they were talking about the weather. He wanted her to regret ever asking about that hat rack in the first place, to apologize between his fingers for not taking his presence seriously and speaking of another so foolishly.
Then to prove his point, the boy reached into his pocket before taking out his gun in order to point the barrel straight at her head with silent warning.
It was a move that would make any one shutter and cower immediately. In fact, it was something he used a million times before to intimate each and everyone of his enemies.
But he had already learned that Asagao didn’t play by the rules of his other opponents.
Turning her head in confusion, the girl simply looked at the foot that was constricting her breathing before returning to the demon with a gentle smile of unbothered idiocy. “Oh, I’m not worried.”
And for a moment, Dazai paused, playing her game. “And why’s that, love?”
He wanted to see what she’d say, how she would justify her calm and collected behavior even though she was staring down the barrel of his gun. Yes, Asagao had outwardly said that she wasn’t afraid of dying by his hand but she wasn’t even trying to get out of it.
And he knew she could, he knew that the hellhound could fight back him if she so chose, so the fact that she was allowing Dazai to pin her down like this was interesting to say the least.
This girl, she was seconds from death and still her eyes held not one bit of urgency.
A moment later, Asagao spoke, her voice full of nostalgic memory as she reached forward in order to pull the barrel closer to her chest. “Because this is how we met, remember?”
Almost immediately, Dazai’s mind seemed to snap back to their first encounter almost an entire year ago. Huh, she was right. They had been in this position before, hadn’t they?
Back when the boy was drowning in his grief, back when he found an intruder in his friend's old place and threatened them in the same exact manner.
If only he knew how utterly life changing that little meeting had been, what kind of storm erupted from the moment he tore that hoodie off her head and looked into her Odasaku eyes.
And it was the same now, the boy looking down at her glasses free expression in order to catalog and trace the iris silently to himself. He seemed to do that a lot lately, getting lost in the emptiness as it swallowed him whole each and every time.
He was grateful for it also, knowing that the dullness of her eyes was way more welcoming then the darkness of his own soul, that by having her here he had switched the method of his demise.
Yes, drowning in Asagao was much more tolerant than drowning in his grief.
A sweeter way to die indeed, a more pleasant experience than what he ever deserved, and yet Dazai couldn’t stop himself from staring even so.
So much so, Dazai felt his lips twist upwards in familiar memory before his finger carefully cocked the gun with a dark chuckle. “Oops. You’re right, how silly of me. Let’s continue where we left off then, hmm?”
Then without a second thought, the executive pulled the trigger as a loud shot echoed through the warehouse. And most people would’ve been horrified by such a reaction, they would have regretted aiming at something he just so clearly said that he admired.
But you see, Dazai didn’t underestimate his girlfriend, not one bit.
Casually putting his hand down on his side, the mafioso then smirked to himself before turning around only to find his enemy a couple feet away, her hands on her hips. “Damn, you really tried to shoot me. I’m surprised and a little impressed, demon prodigy.”
Dazai only shrugged his shoulders though, unbothered. “Well, you told me to look at you as a threat, did you not, Asa-chan?”
It was conversation that was very prevalent in his mind, even today. Sure, the boy should’ve taken their fights easy, he should’ve sparred in a way that made sure Oda’s sister was safe but that wasn’t his style, and neither was hers.
No, Dazai treated her like a real threat, just like she deserved, he trusted that she was smart enough to anticipate his moves and counteract, like just right now.
And the fact that she had done just that also proved his theory that she could’ve gotten out his hold at any time.
What a sneaky shady little hellhound she was. He was onto her big time.
Then as if to prove his internal analysis, he watched Asagao’s face twist into that same twisted, psychotic and giddy smile that enticed him time and time again before watching her fingers twitch in unkept adrenaline just by that simple phrase.
And Dazai would never understand the power his acknowledgment had on her. That just by giving her his entire strength she was already antsy to match it. The hellhound training that had been embedded into her since she was a child, it coated and clouded every other single thought in her brain.
Pushing her fingers up to the ponytail that held her unruly crimson mane in place, Asagao then chuckled darkly before practically ripping the restraint in order to let her hair free.
And with that simple move, she had also ripped down the chains that held the monstrous creature beneath the surface, unafraid of the response it would give. “Oh Samu, you know just how to rile a girl up, don’t you? You’re right about that one, I am a threat. Now allow me to live up to your potential of me and show you how..”
And Dazai loved it, he loved that crazed beast-like look more than anything, his stance grounding itself immediately only to find that his enemy had disappeared in front of his eyes. Ah, she was using her time stopping ability. How cute.
Turning the safety off his gun, the boy then narrowed his eyes before sensing a change of wind to the right in order to let off three more shots just as Asagao reappeared millimeters from his face.
She seemed to register the bullets just in time, her body rolling to the ground in order to just miss the dangerous attacks as Dazai smirked in admiration.
And let’s be honest, should he have been pointing that gun at her like this? No. Should he have been directing his shots with the intent to kill. Also no. It was insanely risky and if she was even second too late then he would have the blood of another Oda on his hands.
Which was something the boy wrestled with internally but it seemed like his port mafia blood craved the opposite, to see just what amazing and enticing ways she could get out each deadly situation he threw at her.
And that desire, that allure was stronger than his fear to keep her locked away forever. No, she had a power, and it was too enticing to ignore, especially for the twisted mafioso who was looking for something entertaining.
He was then taken out of his thoughts as a rough hand wrapped around the barrel of his gun in order to pull it forward without fear as Asagao smirked in victory.
It didn’t matter that the chamber was loaded, it didn’t matter that his fingers were on the trigger and any slight movement could cause the end of her life.
Asa’s grip remained firm, her leg barreling into his side in order for Dazai's muscles to jump and his finger to loosen from the trigger just as she pulled it into her line of sight.
And once the cool metal was in her hands, Dazai wondered what she’d do with it, his senses on high alert only to watch the girl simply empty out the chamber of bullets with one hand, the quiet clinking of metal catching his attention immediately.
How dare she, she had the shot and didn’t take it.
Unsatisfied by her actions, the mafioso then darkened before the boy predicted her next strike in order to grab onto her fist roughly and twist it unnaturally behind her back with a huff.
No, she needed to know that she wasn’t as sly as she thought. That he was onto her little game. “Since you’re all riled up, does that mean you’ll stop holding back now too?”
He wondered how she would react to that, if she would lie about his little discovery or own up to her hypocrisy wholeheartedly? Either could be possible, considering she hadn’t disclosed to him outwardly about her watered down battles.
Asagao told him herself back in Bar Lupin that she was a prodigy just like him, that she could murder like a high level assassin and kill with the quickest of hands.
But if that was true then why hadn’t she tried that with him yet? Why hadn’t Asa displayed intent to kill with Dazai if she was so strongly in favor for believable fights?
It didn’t make sense, and he wanted to know why.
And for a moment, she felt her body still underneath his rough touch, as if she really had to think about his words. He seemed to have broken into something personal for her.
Interesting, she wasn’t denying it. But hold on, was she saying that he couldn’t handle her full hellhound side? That he was some kind of fragile little boy who wouldn't stand a chance? Did she forget that he was in the mafia, the youngest executive in the history of the organization?
She didn’t need to worry about such a thing, besides if that was the result Dazai knew he wouldn’t have opposed. So instead, he coaxed her some more. “Come on, Asa-channn. You’re no fair. I wanna die, remember?”
But even still, Asagao didn’t seem convinced, her body unmoving and eyes closing before he felt her physically shiver underneath his touch, almost like she was reliving some kind of unpleasant memory.
Something scared her, enough to cause such a visceral reaction.
Then Dazai watched as Asagao’s head slumped down into herself, her voice strained and bitter, a tone that the boy had never heard from her before. “I don’t kill anymore, I don’t want to be that person again..
Those words, they felt big, like a massive weight had just fallen on both of their shoulders. But why? What did they mean? What kind of person was she when she killed? What was she like when she truly allowed the hellhound side to fully overtake her? He wanted to ask her.
Yet before he could process that sentence, Asa used his apprehension in order to kick his shin and shift her body around, grabbing onto his forearm before flipping the skinny thin boy backwards over her shoulder.
Feeling his body slam against the ground, the girl then moved on top of him, reversing their previous position with a wave of her finger. “Besides that would be a pretty painful way to go, don’t you think?.”
His entire head began to spin instantly, both from the hit and from her change in attitude. Now she was happy, playful and just as carefree as before. There was no sign of that bitter suffocation that he had heard at all.
Which meant only one thing, she was covering it up.
But to be completely honest, every single thought he had seemed to drown out completely as he looked up at the towering force above him.
Her long messy hair was blanketed over her, shielding the two of them in a cave of her own design as she stared down with that same alluring dead eyed stare that he had admired before.
And not only that, the dim, dingy warehouse lights behind her seemed to melt around her head, bathing her in an ethereal light of some kind, something that made the boy’s heart flip unexpectedly and without warning.
God, she looked like an angel like this, so perfect, so heavenly.
Yet whether she resembled an angel of life or death was to be decided. Perhaps this was a sign from some unknown force, telling him that Oda Asagao would either be the beginning or the end of him.
Perhaps she would be the last thing he would see before leaving this world peacefully or perhaps she would carry him to the afterlife and into the pits of hell with her siren song and her dangerous words. He didn’t know.
He was playing with fire after all, selfish by staying by her side even though he shouldn’t have been allowed to. He was clouding her white light, binding her wings and making her fall to meet his level just because he couldn’t bear to be lonely.
How cruel he truly was, to not have the heart to set her free. It was too late now, the demon and the fallen angel, their fates had been sealed whether he liked it or not.
Reaching his fingers up, Dazai then ghosted across a strand of her falling hair before turning his head in curiosity. “Touché. Well, since you know so much let me ask you, love. What do you think is the most beautiful way to die?”
He wanted to know her answer, more than anyone before. Because he knew that she would answer honestly. She wouldn’t brush it off or disregard the meaning like everyone else.
Dying was a touchy subject it seemed, because although the boy craved it more than anything, it seemed whenever he brought up his little sad goal, no one ever gave him the answer he was looking for.
He didn’t want to be comforted or to hear that there was no beautiful way of death. No, he wanted perspective, real and true perspective. To see what constituted beauty for others, what that meant in terms of what he was searching for.
Because as much as he wished for peace and beauty in death, the boy didn’t know exactly what that meant. How strange it always was, searching for something so desperately even though he didn’t know the true extent of the meaning.
Waiting with bated breath, Dazai allowed her to silently think before the girl put a finger with a quiet and pensive hum. ““Hmmm, that’s a tough one..”
Then she closed her eyes before her lips curved into a confident beam of light. “I guess I would have to say a lovers suicide!”
And that light was blinding, mixing in with the makeshift halo behind her in order for Dazai to turn his head in confusion.He had never thought about that before. Hell, he didn’t even know the term. How curious. “Lovers suicide?”
Nodding to herself, Asa then lifted her pinky finger out in explanation. “Yeah, like a double suicide, you know? Because even if you deemed that the world was awful, you would still have to admit that there was at least one person that made the experience worth it, enough to want to follow them all the way to the afterlife.”
Then to prove her point, the girl simply reached down before interlocked Dazai’s pinky finger with her own, a small smile of her lips as the boy gazed at the sight in awestruck wonder.
Of course she would say something like that. Only Asagao could answer a question about death so hopefully and tragically captivating. Her desire to see the good, to twist the narrative into a positive one, they were extremely prevalent here.
But for once, Dazai didn’t mind it, he liked the idea of having someone to die with. The thought had never crossed his mind before, to have someone to treasure you enough to want to follow you until the very end. It sounded nice. Almost beautiful even, just like he wanted.
Testing out the words on his tongue, the boy whispered. “A double suicide..”
Nodding once, Asa pulled their interlocked pinkies towards her heart in reply. “Yeah! It’s romantically tragic in its own right, don’t you think?”
It was, it really was. In fact, it was so tragically perfect that Dazai knew he would’ve never had thought of such a thing himself. Simply because he wouldn't have allowed himself to think of something so nice and positive.
But now that it was spoken into the world, it couldn’t be forgotten. “I’ve never thought about that before. Do you really think someone would want to do that with me?”
Could it be, could someone really dedicate themselves to him to that extent, enough to give up everything, to walk hand and hand with him to the end of the line? No, that was impossible, no one wanted him, especially in that way.
Asa only shrugged her shoulders though. “You never know! Doesn’t hurt to ask.”
Then all at once, clarity seemed to flash in his eyes. “You’re right..”
That’s it, he just had to ask every woman he saw, then maybe one day he’d get lucky.
Reaching forward, Dazai then shifted his hands in order to grasp onto her wrist before meeting her eyes with a hopeful smile. “Hey Asa-chan! Do you wanna..”
Yet Asagao seemed to already know where he was going with his question, her hand immediately unlatching from his in order to playfully shove her palm into his face and push him back onto the ground. “Sorry Osu, I would do a lot of things for you but killing myself won’t bring me closer to my brother. The only death I’ll accept is one by your hand.”
Damn it, she had said that before, hadn’t she? Ah well, worth a shot.
Throwing his arms out with a child-ish whine, Dazai then pouted his lips at the rejection. “Boo, you give me such a good idea and then turn me down? That’s not very nice. I’m sad now.”
Asagao only laughed though, her tiny giggles taking up the space of his question before pointing a finger out in an offer of her own. “Well, we can’t have that. Oh, I know. How about we stop by the shop on the way home and I’ll buy you some canned crab to make up for it?”
And although it wasn’t what he wanted, her offer enticed him just as much, the boy’s eyes sparkling with pure joy in order to nod his head excitedly.
“Deal!”
——
Stepping through the door of Odasaku’s apartment, Asagao happily turned on the light, the plastic bag full of canned crab clinking together as she moved, only for Dazai to quickly take off his black mafia jacket and throw it on the ground.
And in the past couple weeks of them reuniting, the girl noticed Osamu's childish traits more and more, an action that made her strangely happy. Sure, she still wasn’t sure if he was being completely authentic but she couldn't deny that he at least looked more free when he did them.
In fact, their relationship had grown exponentially since the night Asa cared for him and took off his bandages. She was worried that by pushing that much she would’ve scared him away but it seemed to be the opposite, and for that she was grateful.
Now he came over whenever he pleased, without excuse, and without worry. She would make sure he ate and they would watch TV together and sometimes they would go out to spar like tonight. If anything, the two had definitely moved past the term strangers and into more of a friendship based relationship.
They understood each other, most of the time without words, and that was refreshing to both of them, considering no one else could do such an impossible thing. They were alike and yet so different depending on the circumstance. It was almost fascinating to think about.
She had never had that before, someone that understood so much with so little.
And where most people would call it invasive, Asagao saw his nosey and deductive attitude as a marvel. Although, she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, considering she stepped out of boundaries before.
But those days seemed long gone as the girl turned back to Osamu only to pause when she noticed discolored tan stains on the bandages around his arms. Well, that was weird.
Reaching her hand up, Asagao then lightly touched his forearm, careful to keep her touch on the gauze as she inspected the source. “What is this?”
Although all she received was a boy-ish smile, filled with fake innocence. “Coffee?”
Almost immediately, something about his sentence seemed off, causing Asa to cock an eye with suspicion. “I didn’t even know you drank coffee..”
Then all at once, the boy nodded his head erratically, his lips moving at a mile a minute in order to give an over the top laugh. “Oh, yeah! I love it, I can’t get enough of it. That’s why I spilled some on me this morning. Oops, I’m so clumsy, aren’t I? Didn’t even notice it till now.”
Pouting his lips all at once, Dazai then whined to himself dramatically. “But now that you mention it, it feels really gross, like super uncomfortable. Asa-chan, you gotta save me! I don't know how I can go on like this..!”
His story was strange, considering she had never heard him speak about liking coffee before, nor did he ever choose that as his drink of choice. Usually it was just whiskey and any other alcohol he could get his hands on.
And what Asagao didn’t know was that she was completely right. In fact, Dazai had never touched the stuff before this morning. He didn’t love coffee, but the reason he had bathed himself in it was purposeful.
You see, ever since the first night Asagao changed his bandages, Dazai couldn’t get enough. He wanted that feeling back, the one that made him feel so safe and cared for. He couldn’t get it out of his head, and trust me, he had tried.
Which led him to taking matters into his own hands, aka finding ways to dirty his bandages so that he would have an excuse to give Asagao the next time he saw her.
At first it started with blood, making sure to purposely hurt his enemies in the most messy way possible in order to soil the white gauze, but then it moved to other things such as alcohol, and rolling around in dirt or dunking himself in nearby rivers.
And today’s plan involved coffee. He had gotten the idea when he saw one of his subordinates walk around the corner with one. So naturally, he ordered the guy to give it up in order to pour the lukewarm liquid on his arms with delightful glee.
Anything to get Asa to touch him like that again, to feel so important and special again. Was it underhanded? Possibly, but the boy knew he couldn’t just come out and ask for such an embarrassing thing.
Staying silent for a moment, he then watched as Asagao seemed to turn his wrist, examining the sight before she let him go with a smile. “I’ll go get the bandages. Meet you on the couch.”
And just like that, he had won yet again, causing the boy to practically skip to the plush cushions of the sofa, unable to hide his delight in song as he watched her go into Oda’s bedroom to receive the first aid kit. “Yay! Asa-chan is gonna help me, she’s gonna help me, yeah! Asa-chan is the best, she’s the very best, yeah!”
Once she turned the corner though, Asagao couldn’t help but close her eyes, already sensing his deceptive demeanor. No one spilled things that clumsily, especially Dazai. Which meant that it was for a purpose.
But because his actions didn’t seem self destructive, the girl chose to ignore them. It’s not like she minded changing out his bandages time and time again. In fact, she loved doing it, it made her feel closer to him.
Returning to the sofa, Asagao then placed herself beside him before placing the gauze on the table only for Dazai to immediately loosen his port mafia tie from his neck with one hand. “Lean closer, darling.”
So she did, the girl pushed her head closer to him so that he could slip off her glasses before unraveling the tie as she averted her gaze from his in silent wait.
Back in the warehouse she may have been able to look at him without her blurry barriers but now that she wasn’t distracted by the fight everything seemed way harder. She still couldn’t look at him head on like this, no matter how much she tried.
Dazai didn’t seem to mind though, his fingers only focused on securing the black tie around her eyes and into a firm knot as Asagao felt herself let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
So much better.
Then once her view was obstructed, Dazai couldn’t help but soften at the sight of her instant compliance each and every time.
He loved how she never protested to such a strange request, how she never judged him for not being able to do this without the blindfold. No, she knew that he needed this to continue and Dazai was grateful for that.
Once it was done, Asagao moved her fingers towards the coffee stained coverings before slowly undoing each bind as Dazai felt his breath hitch inside his throat at the emotionally intimate contact.
And even though they had done this exchange about a dozen times, each one felt like the very first. It never got easier, it never made his ears stop ringing and his skin stop shivering.
But like some psychotic masochistic man, Dazai never pulled away, his eyes always entranced with her careful and respectful moves, each calculated, each with a certain intent.
He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of it, the way she cherished him.
Because as scary as it was, her gentle non judgemental fingers gave him a sense of calm along with the chaos. They terrified him and yet they always soothed him in every kind of mitch matched way.
They reached down to the deepest part of his soul, the one he didn’t know existed and embraced it in a warm and welcoming hug. And though the warmth was uncomfortable and foreign, he didn’t outright hate it anymore.
In fact it was quite the opposite, the boy wanted to run to it, he wanted to jump head first into that dangerous and vulnerable place and never return. He was addicted in every possible way, addicted to the idea of being held by her forever.
This was all her fault, how could she? Making him experience such a life changing feeling, he knew this would happen, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to resist this once he had it. How dare she, how dare she make him feel such weak and fragile emotions again.
How dare she coax him into thinking he deserved such a wonderful experience like this?
Those thoughts made him want to be protected by her hands forever, and with the low murmur of the TV in the background and the sickeningly sweet sound of Asagao’s hum to break through the noise, Osamu did feel exactly that.
Protected.
Slowly and without words, Asagao then hummed to herself in order to wrap the fresh clean bandages around his arms before securing the sight and pulling down her blindfold. “Do you feel better now?”
He simply nodded, still in a daze as Asagao smiled softly in return before replacing her glasses. “Good, I’m glad.”
A soft silence appeared then as the two kids allowed it to fill the room in order to turn their attention to the screen that was playing the latest anime episode of the show that they had been interested in lately.
This was nice, just being with him, relaxing without a care in the world. It made the foreign walls of her brother’s apartment feel more personal and belonging. Hopefully it was the same for Osamu also.
Just then, the sounds from the TV snapped her back to reality, watching as the the main character clapped excitedly as the room around her revealed her friends and family, all of them wishing her a happy birthday in joyish surprise. Aw, how cute. They planned all that out for her.
The sight couldn’t help make Asagao pause though, realizing something almost immediately. “Hey, Samu. Now that I think about it, when is your birthday? My brother never said in his letters and I’ve always been curious.”
Yet that’s when she watched Dazai pause, his voice rather dead and monotone, as if he was mentally waving the question away. “Oh, it was five months ago.”
Feeling her face fell in horror, Asa shook her head in denial. “W-Wait..I missed it..?”
No, that couldn’t be. That meant that during the time they were apart he celebrated his birthday by himself? How sad. No one even knew and he just let it pass like nothing, didn’t he?
Wait. That meant that Dazai was now sixteen, didn't it? She didn’t even realize.
It didn’t matter that he never mentioned it until now, how could possibly let such a thing pass so quietly without a word? Now she felt awful. “Oh no, I’m so sorry Samu! What kind of fake girlfriend am I? I didn’t even say happy birthday to you. What is wrong with me, I should've asked sooner, I should’ve..”
Yet the boy only cut her off though, his tone clearly dismissive. “Don’t worry about it. Celebrating life is stupid anyways.”
But how could she not worry about it? That was an impossible task, one that she knew she couldn't complete “B-But..I..”
Dazai only pushed a finger to her lips though, stopping any sense of self hatred she was about to utter before shaking his head.“I already said don’t worry your pretty little head, love. Now, stop that frown or else you’ll turn ugly like Chuuya.”
Then the boy simply smiled before flopping his head onto her lap comfortably in order to turn towards the TV and ignore the conversation completely. “Now, shush, pillows aren’t supposed to be noisy.”
And when the air turned silent once more, it was far more solemn as Asagao absently moved her hand to his hair with an unsatisfied sigh.
But for Dazai, the topic had already left his mind as the soothing feeling of her hand on his hair caused his eyes to grow heavier and heavier with bliss, immediately getting lost in the soft caresses and lulling touch.
How could he think about anything when her magic had already utterly captivated him?
Feeling Osamu’s head sink further into the safety of her lap, Asagao felt her eyes soften at the sleeping boy before thinking back to her previous question.
And though Dazai seemed to forget about it, she could not, his sad little words consuming her mind all at once.
Celebrating life is stupid anyways
Closing her eyes with dissatisfaction, Asagao then shook her head, not liking the implications of his words as she wished to change them even so.
And she would change them, she had to.
“But it’s not just any life, it’s your life. ”
#bsd dark era#bsd dazai#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai osamu#fanfic#bsd odasaku#dazai x fem reader#dazai x y/n#dazai x you#dazai x odasaku!sister#dazai x female reader#dazai x reader#dazai x oc#chuuya fifteen#bsd chuuya#chuuyabsd#a03 writer#Dazai#a03 fic
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You briefly mentioned Gale in your post about Lucy Gray being everywhere (🫶🏻) in District 12 and I wanted to ask what do you think of him as a character. It’s been 10 years since I’ve read the books so I don’t remember exactly how things happened in Mockingjay, but I think it’s unfair how people make everything about the love triangle and in order to praise Peeta for everything he does right, they tend to be really nasty about Gale when imo what happened ~ because ~ of him is really heartbreaking and just shows how war destroys people and who they love. Idk if I’m expressing myself well but I think people do miss the point sometimes. Peeta is a sweetheart but there’s no satisfaction to me in simplifying everything that happen by calling Gale a villain or a toxic guy. This sounds so boring sorry, I just loved your post about Lucy okay? Please yes talk more about books here next year! 💌
hi anon!! thank you for your kind words <3 and thank you for your question! i have THOUGHTS about gale so i am soooooo ready to talk about him <3
first and foremost i am & always have been a peeta girlie, he is truly one of the greatest fictional characters of all time and i'll die on that hill. but i actually do like gale, and i think he gets a very bad rap in fandom!
i think the first mistake people make is assuming that katniss/peeta/gale is a love triangle. it isn't. the struggle of katniss choosing between peeta & gale isn't actually about "omg who will she end up with" but about the life she will choose for herself. katniss herself explains it in mockingjay: it's about choosing the dandelion in the spring, or the fire. she chooses the dandelion in the spring because she needs hope to sustain her. she has enough of her own fire; adding someone else's to it will only hurt her in the end. that doesn't mean she doesn't love gale in one way or another. that doesn't even mean that she condemns the fire. she is the fire! it only means that ending up with gale would hurt the both of them.
gale is not a bad character, and he is not a bad person. it's insane to me that people think he's a bad person, actually! he's a traumatized child whose father was killed in the mines and who has spent the formative years of his life risking his life to break the law so he can provide for his family. exactly like katniss. and he's angry about it. but not angry in an abstract way — he's angry in a directed way, in a way that makes him want to change the world they live in. and he should! that's the whole point of the series!
gale spends most of the first games with katniss's family, because he loves her and he loves them and he doesn't want them to be alone. he promises he won't let katniss's family go hungry if she dies. he takes extra tesserae so his younger siblings won't have to, even though they could use the extra food and fuel, even though it puts him at additional risk. he leads 800 scared, hungry, injured people out of district 12 when they're firebombed. when the bombs are coming for district 13, he goes upstairs to check katniss's family's compartment to make sure they're all safe and to grab the things most precious to katniss and her family, risking his own life in the process. he throws himself over katniss when the bombs drop in district 8 and follows her up to the warehouse roof without pause. he lies for her, a thousand times. he follows her across the capitol on the pipe dream of killing president snow. he doesn't hate katniss for her relationship with peeta — he even says that he knows he can't hate her, that it wasn't fair to her. he isn't even angry. he's heartbroken. he's an 18 year old boy in love with his best friend and the world keeps on ending and she was sent to die and the only way she could survive was by pretending to love another boy sent to die — and she might not be pretending, and she doesn't know, and gale is caught in all the middle of it. he's allowed to be upset! everything is so messed up!
katniss doesn't agree with everything gale does. neither do i! i don't think killing the people in the nut in district 2 was the right choice, and i'm glad katniss interrupted. but it's very easy to see where gale is coming from. one of the core themes of the series can be summed up with haymitch's repeated question: "who is the enemy?" over the course of the trilogy, we see katniss begin to comprehend the true answer. she starts off challenging the idea that the richer people in her district are the enemy, even though they don't have to take the tesserae. then she thinks it's the kids from the richer districts who are her enemy, but when she kills marvel from district 1, it feels wrong to her because he's also just a child being manipulated and used as a pawn by a violent government. like her. like rue. the enemy is not any of the people dying in the capitol's mines and orchards and factories and arenas. and in mockingjay, katniss realizes that the normal civilians in the capitol aren't even her enemy. the enemy is the ring of people at the very, very top.
where gale goes wrong is he doesn't reach the end conclusion of that. gale hasn't gone into the arena, he hasn't had to face down other scared children to atone for the "sins" of people they never met. he doesn't get it. he never will, not in the way katniss does. so he doesn't find the same answer as her.
and as for the bombs that kill prim. you see. i really, truly do not believe that they are thirteen's bombs. snow's points in his discussion with katniss don't hold up enough for me personally, and knowing as much as we do about snow, i truly do think he was trying to mess with her one more time. but within the confines of the story, it doesn't matter who dropped those bombs. in real life, yes, it would absolutely matter. but within the books, it doesn't. what matters is that it could have been either of them. capitol or thirteen. snow or coin. the point was they were trading one evil for another, and katniss couldn't be made in a pawn in that, too.
but it doesn't matter, because she will always associate that with gale. it isn't fair, because even if it was thirteen's bomb, there was no way he would agree to that, no way he would help to kill children to prove a point. but she cannot help but associate that with gale. and gale, oh gale. he will always think it, too. he will always wonder if he was the man that killed prim. the little girl he helped to take care of for years, almost another sibling to him. the little girl he helped katniss bring lady the goat home to. the little girl he would not have let starve if katniss died. the little girl he led to safety when the firebombs dropped on district twelve. he will live the rest of his life having to think he is responsible for her death.
i find gale to be one of the most tragic characters in the series. he tries so hard, to take care of the people he loves, to help others, to build something worth having. and he loses very nearly everything for it. and then the fandom vilifies him and treats him like he's worse than president snow. when really, gale was just another exploited, traumatized child whose life was warped and twisted and burned by the capitol.
#thank you sm for asking i love talking abt gale hehe#answered#anonymous#love letters only💛#the hunger games#gale hawthorne
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Show and Tell
Yo yo yo, waddup. It's been a while since I posted anything, and not gonna lie, I'm not even sure if this is any good. But here it is.
Thank you to @shyvioletcat for providing the inspo for this story. Although, I did take a few liberties lol.
Rating: PG? PG-13? Who knows?
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“Alright, everyone – let’s get our listening ears on and catch a bubble in your mouth!”
Rowan Whitethorn always felt a bit silly pulling on his ears and puffing out his cheeks, but whatever got his rambunctious group of Kindergarteners to quiet down was worth it. When pursuing a degree in education, he didn’t think he wanted to be in a classroom full of five and six-year-olds, but he had such a fantastic experience while student teaching that it seemed like a waste to be anywhere else.
“Now remember, we’re doing show-and-tell today. What do we do when our friends are up here talking?”
“Listen!” A chorus of children practically yelled it at him, and he smiled widely.
“That’s right. We listen, and we pay attention to what they’re saying. Now, is there anyone that wants to go first?”
Several children shot their hands straight up in the air, but one, in particular, was practically bouncing in her seat, almost too excited about getting selected. Everly Galathynius was a very precocious child. She had an overabundance of energy and effusiveness for a five-year-old that surprised even him. He had learned early on that when she felt emotions, she felt them strongly. Happy, sad, angry, upset – it didn’t matter. It was always a production.
It wasn’t that she was a bad kid. She loved school and being around her classmates. She caught onto concepts quickly and had a bright openness that made everyone want to be her friend. She was also fiercely competitive and wanted to be first in everything, whether answering questions or being a line leader. Needless to say that Rowan was not surprised to see her tiny hand shoot up in the air.
If there was anything that Everly struggled with, it was waiting her turn. Patience was not a strong trait that she possessed, and Rowan was adamant that she learn at least some measure of it before she left his classroom. So he purposefully selected another one of her classmates to come up first and almost laughed at the enormous pout that spread across her face.
His amusement only grew when he continued to ignore her pouting and called other members of her class up to share. Everly was practically vibrating in her chair when Rowan finally decided it was her turn. He barely finished calling out her name before she sprinted to the front of the classroom with her backpack, her two blonde pigtails flying behind her.
Rowan sighed. “Everly, you know we’re not supposed to run in school.”
Her excitement didn’t even dim for a second. “I know, but I want to share!”
He supposed it was his fault for keying her up with his impromptu “lesson,” but this child was going to be the death of him. “Alright then. Go ahead.”
Everly took a deep breath and pulled out what she had brought from her backpack. “Today, I brought my mama’s favorite toy!”
Rowan quirked a skeptical eyebrow toward the young child in front of him. “Your mother has a favorite toy?”
“Yes! I found it a while ago, and she told me. She keeps it in her room and won’t let me play with it, even though I ask really nice. But today, I found it in the bathroom!”
Everly dug through her bag as Rowan had a brief moment of clarity. But before he could reach the front and stop, she displayed the item she had brought high above her head like a trophy.
It was a vibrator.
A hot pink, glittery vibrator.
And Rowan was now in hell.
“Okay, that’s enough now, Everly!” Rowan exclaimed hastily. “Thank you for sharing! Let’s go ahead and put that away now!”
Everly took a step back and pouted. “But you let Declan share! I wanna share!”
Rowan stepped in front of her, blocking the view of the class. “You did share, Everly. And now it’s time for you to put it away.”
“No! I waited forever, and now I want to share! Please let me share!” She was near tears, and Rowan knew he had about two seconds to solve this before he had a full-on meltdown on his hands. He was quite unsure how to handle the situation, though. It wasn’t like they taught him this in undergrad. But he needed to remove the... object from his classroom, stat.
He hesitated, and Everly took full advantage immediately, darting to the opposite side of the classroom, still holding the vibrator above her head. “I didn’t even get to show the best part!”
Oh, dear god.
A loud buzzing noise filled the classroom, and his students were suddenly very interested in what Everly had in her hands. His students crowded around her, excited to see her new “toy.” Rowan forced himself through the throng to reach the perpetrator of the insanity, deftly plucking the offending object from her hands.
There was a moment of stunned silence before all hell broke loose in his classroom.
------
Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose, running through what he would say to a Ms. Aelin Galathynius about why he needed to speak with her urgently regarding her daughter. He hadn’t met her yet if he remembered correctly. Everly and her mother were noticeably absent at the parent night a few weeks back, and she hadn’t responded to any of the previous requests he sent out to meet. It was exceptionally bad luck that their first meeting would be him discussing how her daughter managed to get ahold of a vibrator and bring it to school.
Everly sat dutifully in the corner, her eyes cast down on the floor and her blonde pigtails hanging limply off her head. Realistically, he knew he shouldn’t punish Everly. She was five and couldn’t possibly know her item was inappropriate or how it was used. But that didn’t negate that Rowan now had to talk to a woman he had never met about her masturbatory aids.
They sat in uncomfortable silence until Rowan heard the sharp unmistakable clacking of heels hitting the tile floors outside his classroom. The door pushed open, and while he hadn’t known what to expect, he hadn’t expected an impossibly gorgeous golden-haired woman dressed in an impeccable business suit glaring at him with anger scorching hot.
“Is there a reason you’re holding my daughter hostage, Mr. Whitethorn?”
Her hands were placed on her hips, her full lips downturned in a deep frown, and Rowan couldn’t help but be stunned by the fiery woman standing before him. He almost forgot why he needed to speak with her, but he quickly regained composure when it became apparent that she was surveying him like a lioness ready to pounce.
Rowan cleared his throat and came to greet her. “Ms. Galathynius, thank you for coming today. I need just a moment of your time to speak about what happened with Everly in class today.”
“Is she in trouble?” The blonde quirked her eyebrow at him.
“Well…no, not exactly.” Rowan flushed, rubbing his hand behind his neck.
“Was she hurt? Did you allow someone to bully her?”
Anger flared inside him. “Excuse me, Ms. Galathynius, but seeing as you have never met with me or really know anything about what happens in this classroom, I resent the accusation that you think I would ever allow any child to be bullied.”
She rolled her eyes, dismissing his anger. “Okay, well, if she’s not in trouble, hurt, or being bullied, why are you wasting my time?”
Rowan felt the indignation surge at the audacity of this woman. “ I didn’t realize that your daughter’s well-being was a waste of your time. Perhaps I should have called her father instead to help with this matter.”
Rowan visibly saw her shoulders tense. “He wouldn’t have cared, just like he didn’t care when he chose to walk out of her life four years ago to make a brand new family with his brand new wife.”
Her venomous admission momentarily stunned Rowan as she stared him down, and he felt some of the anger filter out of him. Regardless of the situation, he needed to understand why he had asked her to meet. “Ms. Galathynius, I apologize for that comment. It was uncalled for –
“You’re damn right it was.”
“- However, I do need to discuss with you the nature of Everly’s show-and-tell contribution today.”
She sighed deeply, and Rowan watched all the anger drain from her lithe body. “Alright, then. What happened during show-and-tell today?”
Rowan paused a moment before walking back to his desk. He pulled open the top drawer and gestured to the offending object, now stashed in a Ziploc bag and lying on a stack of papers.
He watched as Ms. Galathynius lifted an eyebrow in suspicion before rounding his desk to peer at what he was trying to show her. Her color completely drained as she took in the pink, glittery vibrator nestled inside the drawer. She looked back up at him with shocked eyes, a heavy silence hanging in the air.
Rowan wondered how long it would take for someone to break the silence. He had been mortified knowing that he would need to have this conversation. And although it hadn’t started out quite the way he had planned, he wanted to spare Everly’s mother the indignity of shoving her personal private life back in her face.
Ms. Galathynius stepped back, and Rowan noted the bright red heat of embarrassment creeping up her neck. She turned towards her daughter, clearing her throat. “Everly Grace, can you come here for a moment, please?”
Rowan watched as Everly gingerly slid out of her chair and shuffled towards her mother. She looked up with wide eyes lined with tears, and it broke Rowan’s heart. She hadn’t been in trouble with him, not really, but he couldn’t explain why he had to take her ‘toy’ away and why she couldn’t keep showing it to the class. The tantrum that ensued had been nothing short of legendary.
Her mother cleared her throat. “Everly, love, can you tell mama why you took her…um… special toy to school today?”
Everly perked up a bit, smiling at her mother. “I heard you talking about how much you like it with Auntie Lys the other day!”
The red on her face deepened, and Rowan stifled a laugh. Everly’s mother continued. “And you know you’re not supposed to go into mama’s room without permission, right?”
The brightness on her daughter’s face dimmed. “I know, mama, but I really, really wanted to share it because you said you like it so much! I like sharing my toys, too!”
Rowan couldn’t help it. A snort escaped him at the exchange, and Everly’s mother glared in his direction. Despite the hell this child had put him through today, her absolute innocence in the situation was damn near comical. And if he weren’t so embarrassed about the position he and her mother were now in, he likely would have laughed when it happened.
It sure explained a few things, though.
Her mother sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Sweetie, can you please wait right outside the door? I need to speak with your teacher alone. Just wait right there, and I’ll be out in a minute.”
The second the door shut behind Everly, Ms. Galathynius snatched her vibrator from the drawer and stuffed it deep in her purse. She turned to look at him, her hands back on her hips but with a noticeable flush still lingering on her skin.
“So, I suppose this is the part where I apologize for being a pill, but seeing as my child has embarrassed me enough today, I’m not going to.”
There was a beat of silence before both of them burst into laughter.
“Oh my god, I had no idea what to do with your child today, Ms. Galathynius. She ran around the room, waving it above her head like a flag. She even managed to turn it on, and that was a whole thing by itself.”
Everly’s mother wiped tears away from her eyes as her laughter died down. “Please, call me Aelin. And I swear, I had no idea she snuck into my room this morning. She told me that she was bringing her doll today. Serves me right for trusting my child.”
“Oh, so you know how your child behaves sometimes?” Rowan smirked down at her, and she rolled her eyes, albeit playfully this time.
“Would you believe me if I told you she got it from her father?”
Rowan pretended to think about it for a moment. “After meeting you today? Absolutely not.”
He smiled widely at her, and she returned it with a grin, momentarily stunning him for the second time that day. It transformed her whole demeanor. Gone was the stubborn mother who accused him of allowing her child to be bullied. Instead, Rowan had a beautiful woman standing before him, with hair spun like silk and bright turquoise eyes ringed in gold.
Clearing his throat, he stepped back away from Aelin just to get some distance. “Just one question, though.”
Aelin cocked her head to the side. “What’s that?”
“Grace? Really?”
Aelin's answering laugh drew him right back in. "I was hoping she would take after her name, but here we are."
She smiled at him again, and walked out the door to his classroom. Rowan felt himself warm with that smile, and watched as the door slid shut, wondering if he would ever have a chance to see her again.
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Tag List:
@faerie-queen-fireheart
@1islessthan3books
@superspiritfestival
@jesstargaryenqueen
@ireallyshouldsleeprn
@morganofthewildfire
@chieflemming
@swankii-art-teacher
@rowaelinismyotp
@mariamuses
@booknerdproblems
@story-scribbler
@whoever-you-choose-to-love
@nehemikkele
@thegreyj
@livsdriverslicense
@elentiyawhitethorn
@highqueenofelfhame
#rowaelin#rowaelin month#rowaelin court#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#aelin and rowan#aelin x rowan#modern au#songfic#throne of glass#throne of glass fanfiction#tog#fanfic#fanfiction#pabj26writing
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Apparently people keep calling Raven a transphobe and a mysoginist???? Which Is funny cause she isnt and someone also called her a pedo cause she said shes in love with Toph From ATLA (whos 12 in the show and 13-14 in the comics, which were the pictures shown on the post)
Raven is many things, but transphobic and misogynistic isn't anywhere close to them.
They'll call her weird for liking characters above 18, and call her a pedo for liking characters below 18. At this point, I'm sure that those hateful anons are just looking to pick a fight with how illogical and immature they're being.
The whole situation makes me so angry. The hate has gone on for long enough. I mean, seriously, how pathetic do you have to be to send death threats to a 14 year old just because they don't want men to read their works?
Authors work tirelessly to provide for the fandom they're in for free. They at least deserve the right to have boundaries on who they don't want to read their works, no? It won't cost them to simply read something else. There's plenty of other content for them to consume.
#strwb inbox#the whole thing is so unnecessary#theyre creating so much drama and hate for literally no reason#give the poor girl a break and fuck off
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The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, Ch. 17
Pairing: Michael de Santa/ OFC; Trevor Philips/OFC; Michael de Santa/OFC/Trevor Philips; Michael de Santa/Trevor Philips
Summary: Los Santos is a hellscape, but if you’ve got brains and a little determination, it can be a real hell of a playground. Michael needs money, Trevor needs whatever Trevor wants, and Franklin’s moving up in Los Santos. Jen’s just along for the ride.
This is gonna be fun.
Author’s Note: I’ve been writing this beast of a thing since 2013. It’s been through a thousand different incarnations, but it’s been in my drafts for the last six years. I realize this fandom isn’t as popular as it used to be, but I might as well have a little fun and finally start posting it.
Also, not to be that bitch, but this is on Ao3. I would very much appreciate kudos/comments, if you’re so inclined!
Tagging: @verbo-volant for being an inspiration always
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 || Part 13 || Part 14 || Part 15 || Part 16
--- --- ---
Senora Freeway, Three Years Ago
Michael’s flying down the Senora Freeway, Jen’s in the passenger's seat, Night Moves is playing gently in the background, and life is fucking good.
“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Jen asks, leaning over to card her fingers through the back of his hair. “What's your curfew?”
“Haven't got one tonight,” Michael says, leaning into her hand. “Amanda's out of town for the weekend. We can do whatever you want, baby.”
“Really? Whatever I want, huh?” Jen teases, rubbing his neck. She can see one of his tattoos peeking just over the edge of his collar, and she runs her finger across it. “We could… go see a movie? There's a drive-in on the edge of the canyon right before the county line. We could grab some greasy takeout and not pay attention to whatever they're showing.”
“And what would we be doing instead of paying attention?” Michael shivers from the brush of her fingertips, a full-body shiver that runs from his shoulder to his toes.
Jen laughs. “Fucking in the backseat, duh. That's what drive-ins are for.”
Michael chuckles to himself - that sounds like a good plan to him. “What if we get caught? Don't want you to lose your job or anything.”
“Please, we're so short-staffed, that old codger wouldn't fire me if I set the mayor's house on fire,” Jen says with a grin. She kicks off her shoes and crosses her legs up in the passenger's seat, relaxing against the door. “He’s gone senile anyway. We’re all just trying to stay afloat.”
“You should run against him, bring in some new blood.”
“Me? DA?” Jen snorted. “I'm not really much for leadership. Or politics.”
“I think you'd be good at it,” Michael replied. His hand settled on her thigh, squeezing her knee briefly. “You’re smart, you’re hard-working - you’ve got the Los Santos look. Good face for politics.”
“Maybe I'll think about it,” Jen shrugs. She’s never one to get sheepish, but she can't deny she's flattered. “Hey, turn here - let’s grab Cluckin’ Bell and head to the drive-in.”
--- --- ---
Present Day
Thanks to Michael, Jen had been in a bad mood all weekend.
Saturday had been little more than a nuisance - a formality of time enforced by the sheer ticking of a clock. Jen had given up calling or texting Michael not long after he'd bolted Friday night, leaving Saturday an open wound. She passed the irritable hours by sticking her nose in her laptop and coming up for air for coffee, and coffee alone.
Sunday was just another twenty-four hours of blind irritation stemming from hurt and confusion. Sunday was spent on the couch watching reruns of old mafia movies and nursing a bottle of wine.
Monday, well… Monday was not a good day to be this angry. It was a status hearing for Jen’s serial killer trial - the trial that would last at least a month. The hearing was a formality - little more than standing up to tell the judge that, yes, the State is ready for trial, and, yes, half the LSPD and FIB are witnesses on said trial, and, yes, it will take at least a month to try.
And, while Jen prided herself on etiquette and professionalism within the courtroom, that Monday was not her finest day. Jen was seething, and everyone could tell. Therefore, no one would talk to her, nothing was getting worked out, and nothing was getting done - at least, not for her cases.
When Jen’s case was called, she stood in her tall, tall heels, the spiky ones she wore specifically on days like today, and stood at the podium in front of the judge. "The State is ready to proceed with trial."
The judge, a curmudgeonly woman in her late sixties, similarly, and perhaps impossibly, was in a worse mood because a month-long trial wasn’t going to be enjoyable for anyone. The judges - especially this one in particular - did not like it when Jen announced that a trial would take place, as Jen's trials generally took a week or more.
The judge sighed. "How long do you expect this to take, Ms. Dixon?"
"Three weeks, maybe four. There's eight counts of murder in the first degree and nearly forty witnesses."
The judge, deadpan, asked, "Seriously?"
Jen nodded, tapping her pen against the podium. "Serious as a heart attack, Judge. This is the serial killer the FIB arrested last year."
The judge looked as if she'd like to retire immediately. "Alright, we'll set it down for trial. I'll send out the scheduling order this afternoon."
Jen stepped away from the podium, click-clacking back to the State's table. The other attorneys hastily made room for her, careful not to scoot too close. With the exception of MaryAnn, they all seemed to be mightily preoccupied with the files in their hands. MaryAnn, on the other hand, stared her down with every step.
Leave it to MaryAnn to be the only person unafraid to ask. She leaned over to whisper in Jen’s ear. "What crawled up your ass?"
Despite Jen’s irritation, she almost smiled. "Nothing."
MaryAnn rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, I haven't seen you this angry at work since the morning after you went on that date with Haines."
That had been an exceptionally bad day, after an exceptionally bad date. They did not speak of that date. Nor the day that followed.
"We agreed never to talk about that." Jen crossed her arms and watched another lawyer stand up for his case. "Mike's being a dick."
"Did you have a fight?" MaryAnn asked. She watched the judge out of the corner of her eye, waiting for her next case to be called while she chatted with Jen.
"More like he fucked me seven ways to Sunday and ran out of my apartment before he'd even zipped up his pants. And didn’t bother to answer the phone."
"Ouch," MaryAnn winced. "Want me to cover for you so you can go home?"
Jen shook her head. "No, I've got too much to do, and we need to keep prepping for trial. I'll take care of it tonight."
"I feel sorry for him…"
"I wouldn't if I were you."
As Jen sat at the table monitoring the goings-on of the courtroom, her phone vibrated. She frowned down at it when Michael’s name flashed across the screen.
Michael: dinner @ natalias @ 6
How eloquent. Michael wasn't known for his hip-and-happening texting skills.
Jen: okay
She received no further reply, which wasn't unexpected even on a good day. Nevertheless, she spent a few too many seconds glaring down at the screen. Two of her employees (who had been watching carefully to make sure a blow-up wasn’t imminent) vacated their seats and scurried away, pretending to discuss a case they were working together. She rolled her eyes at their retreating backs, but she could admit it wasn’t their worst idea to go run and hide.
Jen chewed on her lip, deep in thought, until she tasted the rust of blood. Dinner could go one of several ways. Michael could ignore the problem - that was the most likely possibility. He could bring presents and buy her dinner and expect that to fix things. Or, equally possible, he could finally run the other way. That… also wouldn’t be entirely unexpected. Whatever method Michael decided to try, Jen had already determined a conversation needed to be had.
Once court had adjourned, Jen grabbed MaryAnn and led her back to her office.
“We have to call Haines and Norton,” Jen said. “They worked the last of the murders before his arrest, so we need to start working on their testimony.”
“Are you sure you don’t just want to take your anger out on your favorite punching bags?” MaryAnn asked, curling up on her favorite chair in Jen’s office. She stared up at the whiteboard where Jen had drawn out their trial plan. “You’re not going to have one of them sit with us, are you?”
“I was planning on Haines sitting at the table with us. He has public appeal with that dumbass TV show,” Jen replied, tapping out a message on her phone. She usually tried to warn Haines before she called him. She dialed after she sent the message. “As much as I don’t want him there, he has good ratings - might help with the jury's perception of us.”
Both Jen and MaryAnn were well-known for being rather… contentious during trial.
“I hate it when you’re right… sometimes,” MaryAnn said. She quieted when Haines answered the phone on the third ring.
Haines’s voice rang loud and clear over the speaker. “How can I help you, Jenny?”
Jen’s eye twitched. “That serial killer you and Norton arrested last year is electing to exercise his constitutional right to a trial. Clear your schedule - you’re sitting at the table with us.”
“I guess you need a pretty face for when the camera’s come rolling in,” Haines commented loftily. “I don’t know… I’ll have to check my filming schedule.”
“Well, when I serve you your subpoena and you don’t show up,” Jen started as MaryAnn snickered quietly in her seat, “I can have you arrested on your own TV show. How's that for ratings?”
“Eh, I guess I could use some more screen time,” he corrected quickly. He wouldn’t put it past her to actually do it. “I’ll make sure to let my makeup artist know.”
“If you fuck up this testimony and this guy walks, don’t forget your home address is public…”
Haines scoffed quietly. “Calm down, Jenny. When have I ever fucked up testimony?”
Irritatingly, the answer was never. Haines, for all his flaws and despite his patriarchal athleisure wear, was actually fairly good on the stand. He was somehow able to charm a jury, despite the glaring surface flaws and deep-seated jackassery.
“Just be prepared. You’ll be on the stand for a couple of days,” Jen said, "And wear a fucking suit. I don't want you up there looking like you're going out for a round of golf."
“Yeah, fine.”
Jen hung up. MaryAnn was still snickering quietly in her chair.
“Well, if all goes poorly with your old man boyfriend, there’s always Steve Haines.”
“I would genuinely rather die, MaryAnn.”
--- --- ---
Michael was late. Of course, he was late. Even neutral ground for a conversation wouldn’t make that man deal with the consequences of his actions in a timely fashion.
Jen took a sip of her wine. It was good wine, she determined. She’d already asked the hostess (a woman she’d become incredibly friendly with over the years of being a steady and dedicated patron) to bag up an extra bottle to take home. She had a feeling she was going to need a tall, stiff drink when she got home.
Jen already knew where this date was going just by virtue of Michael being late, and Michael was clearly having trouble getting himself together to do it.
She could tell him that it was okay, that she was expecting it. She could tell him she'd always known it would end like this - that they'd had a good ride together. She could be kind and make this easier for him, just get up and grab her bags and forget that he existed. And make him pay for the meal, obviously.
But Jen certainly wasn’t known for being kind. If Michael was going to do this, she wasn't going to make it easy for him.
Michael finally arrived, dressed in his usual suit and tie. Judging by the pink flush on his cheeks, he’d had a couple of drinks before he’d walked in - a little liquid courage. Jen watched him idly as he sat down and adjusted his tie, though it didn’t need to be adjusted. He was looking anywhere but at Jen, though she’d fixed him with a cool, even stare.
Finally, Jen spoke, tone flat. "Explain."
"I don't really know what to say…"
She cocked her head to the side. "Take your time."
"I- uh," Michael trailed off as though words had entirely escaped him. He paused, trying to hold himself firm against Jen's colder-than-death stare. "I'm- well, I'm- fuck - I'm sorry for runnin' out the other night-"
"I didn't ask for an apology, Mike. I said explain."
Michael knew his choices were limited. He could take what he determined was the chicken-shit way out: apologize and keep on doing this with Jen. Or, he could do what he figured was the right thing to do if he wanted Amanda back - break it off right here and now.
Begrudgingly, Michael admitted Trevor was right - he had to let one of them go. And he'd chosen Jen.
Time to pony up.
"Jen, I can't keep doing this," Michael said, his voice hollow. It's like he couldn't hear the words coming out of his mouth - like he was trapped in an icy bubble. "I mean, we had a good ride. It's been a good six years-"
"Seven years."
Michael coughed. Right. "Seven years. But we knew we'd have to move on from this eventually."
Jen crossed her arms. "Uh-huh."
"Look, you deserve someone who can give you a good life."
"I have a good life as it is, but keep talking if you’d like,” Jen said, raising an eyebrow.
“I'm still married, Jen.”
That, despite Michael's attempt at a hushed whimper, caught the attention of the table next to them. Two blondes, one tall and statuesque even sitting, the other squat and muscular, ducked their heads together and traded sideways looks.
“Oh, I'm aware, but did it ever cross your mind that you’re married when you were getting your dick wet?” Jen asked, tone getting icier by the minute. “Or when you dragged me into your new bank-robbing 80's movie reboot?"
Michael struggled to keep his temper in check. If he raised his voice, which he knew he shouldn’t do, she’d lose her shit on him (which was not something he ever wanted to experience and would ultimately make things worse). And then he’d lose his shit on her (again, not something he'd ever done nor wanted to experience). He didn’t want to have a screaming match or some knock-down, drag-out fight in the middle of this restaurant. He’d wanted this to be as quick and painless as possible, but he had a short temper and a bad mouth.
"Yeah, I’m sure you really hated the money you got from those jobs. You're really gonna pull the morality card on me right now?" Michael snapped. “You knew I was married from the get-go. I never hid that from you.”
And with that, quick and painless fell out resolutely out of reach.
Jen sneered. “Morality got thrown out the window seven years ago when I fucked you on my couch. You don't give a shit about me or Amanda. You just want your idyllic little life back, with your white picket fence and wife and two-point-five kids and all that shit."
Jen had never spoken to him like this before - not this icy, toneless clip. Screaming was one thing, yelling and cussing another, but this emotionless, icicle tone was downright terrifying. Michael thought he might prefer yelling.
"We never agreed on anything more than strictly casual and you know it!” Michael snapped. He wanted to disengage, he really did, but he was notoriously terrible at backing down.
The neighboring table was outright staring now, more out of the Los Santos love for drama than any real concern.
"Doesn't matter what we agreed to at this point, especially considering the past few months. This arrangement is no longer strictly casual, Michael,” Jen said. “Whose bed did you sleep in when Amanda left you, huh? Who’d you come running to?"
Michael leaned in, trying to keep his voice down, and failing. "Why are you making this harder than it has to be?"
Jen pointed at him, her long, tapered nail ending in a point. "Because you know how I feel, and you know how you feel, and you’re just blindly fucking ignoring it."
"I've got to take care of my family."
"I’m not telling you not to take care of your family,” Jen hissed, “I’m telling you not to go back to someone who made you miserable for twenty years, and who, I’m sure, you made equally as miserable.”
Michael didn’t have an answer, because Jen wasn’t wrong.
"The fact of the matter is, you want this to be easy for you. This is not easy for me, and I am not going to make this easy for you, Michael," Jen snapped. This was an absolute promise. “You’ve always walked away from everything you’ve done scott-free - not this time."
"Well, don't worry, you'll get your wish. I gotta carry this with me every fucking day."
"And I hope you carry it with pride."
With that, Michael stopped and took a deep breath. He cared, he really did. And Michael, in his infinite capacity to make everything worse, went for the final blow. "Look, I care about you, Jen. I lov-"
"Don't." She uncrossed her arms and stood up. "Don’t say another fucking word - I don’t want to hear it. You are such an asshole."
"Jen, come on-"
Jen grabbed her bag and coat, retrieved her bottle of wine from the hostess station, and left, the restaurant door swinging shut behind her. Michael could pay for the fucking waters and the bottle of whiskey he was probably about to order - Jen was out of there. The valet, taking a quick look at the expression on her face, wasted no time retrieving her car.
Of course, Michael would pull that card. Jen wasn't stupid - and neither was Michael. Both emotionally stunted, stubborn fools - but not stupid. That had manifested years ago, but, of course, the end would be the moment Michael decided to pull it out.
Asshole.
Jen revved her car and turned out into Los Santos traffic. God, it would be weeks before she’d be able to go back to Natalia’s after that blowout. She couldn’t stop herself from letting it get out of hand, and there was no way Michael wasn’t going to make a scene. How embarrassing. She’d have to leave an extra tip next time.
She didn't want to go home yet, not after that. She needed someplace to cool down, get a clear head. Some catharsis.
Tequi-la-la’s would be a good place to cool down. Have a couple of drinks, grab some bar food since she’d never actually ordered at the restaurant. Find someone to take home with her. Yep, that was the best plan. Alcohol, food, and a quick fuck. Mends broken hearts, does the trick every time. Well, probably not this time, but self-destruction was the only option Jen would consider right now.
Yet, rather than taking the exit for Tequi-la-la’s, Jen found herself turning right onto the Strawberry exit. A short drive later, and the glow of the Vanilla Unicorn sign flooded the dark streets. She’d driven around aimlessly until she’d seen the giant neon sign and cut into the parking lot.
Catharsis. She could get catharsis here, too. She cut the engine on her Jester and sat staring up at the flashing lights.
“Fuck.”
Jen slammed the Jester door behind her and locked the car. She was greeted at the door by the bouncers by name, asked if she wanted her usual table by the hostess. She declined and headed straight up to the bar.
Tiffany, blonde Tiffany - one of Jen's favorite girls at the Unicorn - was bartending tonight. Jen didn't prefer blondes, but Tiffany was undeniably gorgeous and surprisingly quite sweet. And she made a great cocktail. And gave great head.
Jen leaned against the bar and waved Tiffany over. “You busy?”
“Kind of,” Tiffany snorted. She looked around and saw that she was not, in fact, all that busy, so she shook her head. “Actually, not really. Mondays are slow. Speaking of which, why are you here?”
“Bad day,” Jen responded. “Came in for a drink and… to say hi. Take a break?”
Tiffany raised an eyebrow and called over her shoulder. “Jill, I’m going on break. Be back… eventually.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Jen grinned. “Hey, have you seen Trevor tonight?”
“Uh, yeah, I think he’s in the office. Why?”
“Got a problem with using the office?”
“With him in it?”
“Maybe, if he’s lucky.”
Tiffany shook her head. “No problem at all.”
“Good girl,” Jen said with a wink. “Let’s go.”
Tiffany ducked out from behind the bar and led Jen back towards the office, pulling her by the hand past the private rooms where thudding music filled the dark hallway. Bouncers lined the wall, standing guard past the curtains in case customers got too rough with the girls. Judging by the soft sound of panting, some of the bouncers had been paid extra to look the other way.
Trevor's office was down at the end of the hall, but the girls didn't quite make it there before Jen pulled Tiffany into a heated kiss. One of the bouncers gave them a look, more out of curiosity than concern, then went back to monitoring the couple past the curtains. It wasn't like the bouncers didn't know what was going on - they'd all seen Jen with a girl or two before - but what happened at the Unicorn, stayed at the Unicorn.
Jen shoved a hand up Tiffany's cropped shirt, finding no bra to impede her in her goal, and busied herself playing with Tiffany's nipple. Tiffany wound her hand into Jen's hair and shoved her back against the wall.
“How do you want to do this?” Tiffany asked, panting in Jen's ear.
Jen tweaked her nipple until she moaned, thumb circling the nub relentlessly. “Whatever happens, happens. You okay with Trevor joining in?”
Tiffany nodded. “Fine with me. You give the word.”
“Safe word is pineapple if you get uncomfortable,” Jen said. “Now, come on, I want to stick my tongue in your pussy.”
They didn’t bother knocking on the door - it was unlocked anyway. Cue Trevor doing whatever it is that Trevor does in this vacant office (currently, snorting coke off the desk). ‘
He looked up and broke out into a grin. “Well, this is unexpected.”
“Shut up,” Jen said as she backed Tiffany up against the desk. “You can stay as long as you’re quiet.”
Trevor mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.
Jen nudged Tiffany onto her elbows on the desk and sank down to her knees in front of her. She hiked Tiffany's skirt up her thighs and peeled her underwear down before sealing her lips over her slit.
Tiffany's hand gripped the roots of her hair. “Ah - getting right to it, babe?”
“Mhm,” was as much of a response as Jen could give with her mouth full. She flicked her tongue along her slit, pausing to suck at her clit, before spreading her open with her fingers and sinking two digits in. She pumped her fingers in and out, tonguing the space in between with reverence, until her mouth was soaked and fingers were dripping.
Tiffany grabbed Jen’s shoulders and arched up into her mouth, thighs shaking. “Fuck, Jen - right there -”
Jen could just barely hear Trevor unzip his pants over the sound of Tiffany panting, but hear it she did. She stopped sucking Tiffany's clit and stood up, leaning over the girl on the desk so she could kiss her.
“Okay so far?” Jen asked softly, mumbling against Tiffany's mouth. Her black lipstick was smeared down her chin, and Jen could only imagine what her own face looked like.
The breathless yes made Jen smile.
“Do something for me?” Jen asked. “Go fuck Trevor. If he doesn’t finish you, I will.”
Tiffany nodded and stood shakily up from the desk. She crossed over to where Trevor sat and climbed into his lap. He moved to grab her ass, but stopped when Jen told him no.
“You don't touch. I touch, you be quiet and take what we give you. Understood?”
He stared over Tiffany’s shoulder at Jen and nodded. To his credit, he followed orders and didn’t speak, likely because he thought Jen would tell Tiffany to stop if he did. (She wouldn’t have, not this time. This was a night for catharsis, not discipline.)
Jen stood behind Tiffany and held her hips steady as she slid down onto Trevor's fat cock. She reached up and tucked Tiffany’s hair away so she could trail kisses down her neck as Tiffany grinded down on Trevor’s lap.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, Trevor?” Jen said, reaching around to play with Tiffany’s nipples while Trevor watched. “Tiffany’s so fun to play with. Too bad you can’t touch.”
He leaned his head back against the top of the chair and groaned, eyes squeezed shut. His knuckles had turned white from the force of clutching the arms of his chair, the pulse point in his neck fluttering, tendons tight.
“Open your eyes and watch, Trevor,” Jen said, teasing one of Tiffany’s nipples before reaching down to play with her clit. “If you’re a good boy and make Tiffany come first, I’ll fuck you, too.”
Another groan, but it makes him buck up into Tiffany, matching her pace. Tiffany moaned in turn, one hand gripping Trevor's forearm, the other hand wrapped around Jen's hand while she played with her clit.
Jen grinned, spreading the slick over Tiffany's clit. She reached further, massaging the place where Trevor's cock plunged into her. “How’s that feel, Tiff?”
“Good - so good-”
“Gonna come for us?”
A high-pitched, breathy yeah.
Jen grabbed Tiffany's chin and turned her head so she could kiss her. She felt the tremor wrack Tiffany's body as she came, the sharp moan spilling from her lips muffled by Jen's mouth.
Beneath them, Trevor was absolutely wrecked, hips stuttering as he rode out Tiffany's orgasm without succumbing to the one threatening to slam through him. His bottom lip was caught between his wolfish teeth, eyes wild, knuckles so white from the strain that Jen could almost see the veins running through his hands. He still didn't speak, but he stared a hole through Jen's forehead, silently begging to come.
Jen held onto Tiffany's hips as she climbed off of Trevor's cock, keeping her steady. Trevor's hand immediately fisted around his shaft, pumping viciously to keep his high going.
Jen kissed Tiffany again, this time gently. “You okay, Tiff?”
“I'm great, sugar,” Tiffany replied. “Do you want me to stick around?”
“Yeah, I like when you watch,” Jen replied. “Besides, someone should watch Trevor get fucked like a good boy.”
Jen turned back towards Trevor, watching him beg silently as he fisted himself. “You can talk if you're good.”
Trevor nodded furiously, groaning. “I'll be good - I'll be so good, Jen, please -”
“I know you will, baby boy,” Jen said, lifting the hem of her dress out of the way as she straddled Trevor's lap. “You always do such a good job for your Princess Jen.”
His hands latched onto her thighs immediately, fingertips digging into her skin as she moved her underwear to the side and sank down on his cock. It was an easy slide, made easier by the mix of Tiffany's come coating his shaft and the precum dripping from his flushed tip. Her hand found his throat, thumbs teasing the prominent veins bulging under his skin, and forced his head against the back of the chair.
Jen's name, at that moment, was the closest thing to a prayer to have ever come out of Trevor's mouth, followed closely by fuck and please. She gripped his shoulder with the hand not currently wrapped around his throat. When she moved in his lap, it was slow and torturous, not quite enough to push Trevor over the edge with the explosive force he'd started to feel with Tiffany. No, this was worse - this was a wave lapping at his skin, teasing him, pushing him closer and closer -
“You can come now, Trevor,” Jen said, permission like music to his ears. “Be a good boy and come on yourself.”
And he does. He bounced Jen up to the tip of his cock and slammed up into her before pulling her soundly off his cock and coming all over the bottom of his shirt. She kept his head pinned to the back of the chair, the edges of his vision starry and fuzzy, forcing him to keep eye contact until his cock softened against his stomach.
From the desk behind them, Tiffany made herself come again, the sound of her moans bubbling up underneath Trevor's. Jen climbed off of Trevor's lap to help Tiffany clean herself up before waving Tiffany out with another kiss.
Jen sat on the edge of the desk and offered Trevor Tiffany's forgotten underwear to clean himself up. She watched idly as he stuffed the used underwear into his back pocket.
“Not that I'm complaining,” Trevor said, “but what was that?”
“What do you mean, what was that? You got fucked by two women. Don't think that needs an explanation.”
“But why?”
“Why not?”
Trevor, unfortunately, was a lot more perceptive than Jen gave him credit for sometimes. “What happened?”
Jen, wholly unwilling to relive the events of the night prior to her arrival at the Unicorn, climbed down off the desk and smoothed out her dress. “Why don't you call Michael? He'll explain.”
“Maybe I’ll just go pay him a visit,” Trevor replied, zipping up his pants with some finality. “It’s been a while since I said hello anyway.”
#grand theft auto#Grand Theft Auto 5#Grand Theft Auto V#gta#GTAV#GTA5#michael de santa#michael de santa x oc#trevor philips x oc#trevor philips
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I'm not the original Post Hole Diggers anon but I wanted to say I love that story so much and definitely consider it a favorite, but I don't reread it as often as I would like to because so much about Jared's living situation just makes me so angry and upset. I thought it was interesting how you said Jared's mom in PHD resents him. I don't understand why at all. Could you talk about that a little more perhaps?
Hi there, anon!
I'm happy to talk more about PHD. :) Long post ahead!
Think of this from Kate's perspective. Her husband walks out on her and her kid. But she's supported by her in-laws (Grams and Gramps) and raises Jared without too much of an issue (money has always been tight). Then Gramps dies and Grams decides to move into assisted living (for her own reasons). Suddenly, Kate is left on her own with Jared in a house her in-laws have given her but she can't keep up with the mortgage payments on her own. Jared is about 13 at this point and his odd jobs around the neighborhood and in town keep him fed, while Kate works two or three jobs to keep up with the house.
Kate meets Luke and doesn't necessarily fall in love with him, but she tells Jared she does. Kate and Luke have similar problems: how to support their families. And then Kate gets pregnant, which adds another kid to an already crowded mix. Luke has 3 boys, all of whom command Kate and Luke's attention more than Jared does. Jared has learned how to be self-sufficient--as much as a teenager can be.
Kate starts to resent Jared by the time he's fifteen/sixteen years old. She was a mother at that point, working three jobs. If she did it, she doesn't understand why Jared won't/can't. She's pulled in so many directions--work, Baby Rose, the boys, Luke--and Jared only has to care for himself. She has no time to spare for him and his moods or complaints.
The older Kate gets, the less she likes her life. Sure, Luke is nice to her and he's actually, surprisingly, a decent guy. But he's also a fairly absent parent to the boys, which puts more on Kate, which puts more on Jared. Jared could sleep with Baby Rose, but he can't stand her crying in the middle of the night--and he knows that if he starts paying more attention to Rose, he will be the one taking care of her the most often. Kate resents that.
Kate is upset that Jared isn't helping around the house as much as she wants him to. She's upset that she let herself get pregnant when they had enough going on with 4 kids. Jared is upset that he doesn't have his mother 1:1 anymore. He's upset that Grams went to live in the assisted living place instead of staying with them. Everyone is upset about their situation.
In Kate's mind, Jared should put school on hold so he can help contribute to the family. They need the extra income, he knows how to care for a baby, and he's the oldest teen. School will be there for him to go back to if he wants... later.
She sees Jared as having very little responsibilities and obligations. When he complains or speaks up about something he doesn't like, she has no patience or bandwidth left to A) do something about it and B) care. He knows there's no way to get a room of his own right now, and still, he keeps asking for one.
Jared has what she wants--the freedom to come and go as he pleases. He doesn't seem to appreciate that.
Then, enter Jensen. A handsome, amiable, wealthy alpha who used to be in a relationship with Luke. Instead of treating Jensen with civility, she chooses hostility. What's Jensen doing around here? Does it have something to do with Luke? Luke denies this, saying that what they had is in the past, but can Kate really trust that? Is Luke really at construction sites all day or is he hanging out with Jensen? It's probably way more fun to hang around Jensen--he's got a big house, a large plot of land, no kids, and spending money. (Whenever Jensen overpays Luke, Luke skims some off the top to put away for the kids. He doesn't show Kate 100% of his earnings.)
Kate doesn't want Jensen around anyone in her family, but Luke insists that the money Jensen gives him and Jared is worth more than her pride (or whatever she wants to call it). Kate and Luke begin to disagree more and more on things, especially Jared. Money is tight, the baby needs so much attention, and everything is falling apart. Nothing seems like it's going to get any better for Kate.
It's tough to picture a mom resenting their only son, but Kate is just that kind of person. She's not a good mom. She used to be, but right now she's just going through the motions and barely getting by.
Then she's got her mother-in-law calling and asking questions. This makes her feel threatened and small, even if Grams has nothing but good intentions. So she lashes out at Jared. She knows that as soon as he can, he's going to leave--just like his father. But she can't leave. She doesn't have what Jared has: independence.
And in the end, she's proven right. Jared does leave. And he doesn't even bother to say goodbye to her. Just like his father.
Kate is an emotionally immature parent. She's not like Sheri in Photo Op or Jared in Punzel. She doesn't hate Jared. She's just too caught up in resentment to understand him. And she's too caught up working two or three jobs that she has no time to work through her emotions.
Resentment is unresolved anger. She's angry about how her life turned out. This isn't what she pictured or wanted.
TLDR; Kate is an emotionally immature parent and barely hanging on by a thread in regard to her own physical/emotional capabilities. She resents Jared for the independence he has and his repeated refusal to help out more around the house.
If this family had just $100 more every month (that's like $1000 in modern money), they'd be more financially secure and things could potentially calm down. But they're losing money. Everything is tenuous. Happiness isn't forever or for everyone in Kate's perspective.
I hope this helps, anon. I think Kate might be the most flawed character I've written. I think readers want her to be a good mom because I've usually written good moms. That's just not what we get here. Jared will benefit from reading the book "Children of Emotionally Immature Parents" later in life.
Omg this post got away from me. Sorry! Bless you if you've read this far. <3
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Hey Sunshine 💜💜💜
As I didn't annoy you yet today, I'm here to:
1/ remind you that I exist & I can be a pain in the ass in case you forgot 😈
2/ request 13 "Don't move" for the Drabble Prompts post 📝
3/ send you a hug 🫂
See ya!
Mwah 😘
VV !! 😏😉 thank you for the request 🤗
1/ i can't forget that you exist, i love you too much for that ♥️♥️ and you're never annoying 😘
2/ i technically don't have to honor that promise since my choice lost, but i couldn't resist writing it down anyway… and I'd already used that line before you even sent in the ask, so it feels like the stars were aligned for me to post whatever the f this is!!
3/ hugging you right back ♥️🥰 and i really hope you like this!!
send me prompts and i'll write a drabble
lingua (ao3 link)
Tags: modern au, nsfw, nsfw use of piercings, afab levi ackerman, amab hange zoë, t4t, trans levihan, don't like don't read, he/him pronouns for Levi, she/her pronouns for Hange, porn with feelings, don't do this at home (no really don't you're supposed to wait longer)
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"Hey, pretty boy," Hange singsongs under her breath when she enters Levi's studio, the entire one room apartment bathed in a gorgeous sunset orange at this late hour of the day.
As she predicted, he's still out cold from his previous night shift as a nurse, and she hesitates as she closes the door as quietly as possible. It's hard not to feel guilty at the thought of waking him up, but she's got two major excuses she thinks will make it worth it.
The first one is silly, idiotic even, and if Levi doesn't approve, will turn into a total disaster of a surprise.
The second is slightly embarrassing. Hange's historical thesis has been keeping her way too busy lately, and both money and the ER team schedule have been so tight that Levi has needed to work double the usual amount of additional hours, which resulted in them not seeing each other for over a couple of weeks now. And okay, she's got that other trivial mission in mind for tonight, but if she's being honest, this kind of a gap between shared moments simply isn't something she can stand for a day longer. It has been eating away at her for a solid week now, and she realized today that she just missed him to fucking much not to cut her afternoon studying session short, promising herself to start earlier tomorrow morning, and sneak into Levi's apartment –using the key he'd pretended to have forgotten at her place, barely two months into their still blossoming relationship.
She takes off her shoes and jacket, throwing them on his beloved worn out leather chair in the corner of the room, easily dismissing the twinge of worry she'd felt about the earful she's definitely going to get for that later, before she goes to lie down next to him on his sofa bed. She lightly brushes the longest strands of his hair away from his eyes and looks down at his gorgeous, peacefully sleeping face, unable to resist kissing him lightly on the nose and chuckling when it crinkles in reply.
"The fuck you doing here, Four-eyes?" he asks without opening his eyes, voice barely audible through its sleepy grogginess.
He sounds as angry and grumpy as he always would to a stranger's ear, but his arms wrap around her body and drag her on top of him anyway, his hands traveling up and down her back and lightly scratching along her spine like he knows she loves.
"Couldn't stand to be cooped up in my cave like a hermit anymore, so I decided to escape and come see my boyfriend," she replies, only pecking his lips once before sliding down to kiss her way to his neck.
She pauses there, inhaling his usual comforting scent and losing herself in the enticing warm drowsiness he's cocooned into and almost deciding to fall asleep here and there -when did she sleep last, again, anyway? she can't recall- but she's got something to do, so she tears herself away from this heavenly spot and drops kisses downards until she reaches the years old scars on his chest.
"Tch, I was sleeping. So annoying," Levi complains, even as his hips immediately roll and start seeking friction against Hange's body.
But she's got a plan, a serious plan to surprise him with that new piercing she's so psyched over, and not even her growing arousal will deter her from it, she mentally scolds herself -no matter how uncomfortable her jeans are starting to feel and how much parts of her are begging her to respond to his movements right now.
"Is this annoying?" she asks, wrapping her lips around one of his nipple and only letting the tip of her tongue wet it, before moving to play with the other one the exact same way.
"Yes, it is," Levi speaks up, sounding much more awake now, glaring down at her. "You know how much I hate it when you tease.”
Hange's brain comes up with a dozen counterexamples to that statement, but she lets it slide.
"Relax, babe," she chuckles, leaving another trail of kisses down his belly, "I've got a surprise for you."
She hooks her fingers in his underwear's elastic and slides it down his legs when he obediently lifts his hips up to help her out. She takes a moment to allow her hands to roam back up his limbs, marveling at the powerful muscles she can feel right under his skin.
"I don't like surprises," he lies again, just as Hange finally settles between his thighs, her short nails still digging into the skin of his hips as her mouth hovers over him.
"Oh, you don't?" she asks, faking surprise and feigning to go and unhook one of his legs like she's about to get away. "Never mind then, I'll go–
"Don't move," he warns, using the force of his legs to push on her back and keep her where she is.
Hange grins at the lust in his voice and lowers her face enough that her mouth can part his lower lips gently, and a low moan escapes her through the intimate kiss when she realizes how wet he is already.
"Damn, what were you dreaming about that got you so worked up?" she wonders against him.
She's not even really asking, not when he's already panting and he somehow tastes even better than she recalled, not when she has to stop herself from ruining her big reveal by eating him out like he deserves right now, by drinking every drop of fluid his body can produce to quench her thirst and make him writhe some more beneath her newly accessorized tongue.
"You, actually," Levi confesses, sounding almost as shy as he does out of breath.
He's staring straight down and into her eyes as he says it though, looking both terrified and determined to get his point across, and Hange really doesn't know how she manages to hold back when he's pulling this brutal honesty barely hiding a mountain of vulnerability act on her -the very one she knows is too soon to reveal how it makes her heart hammer in her chest every single time she witnesses it.
Still, she somehow succeeds in reigning it in, only swallowing thickly before she replies.
"Ha! Never heard you admit that before," she half jokes.
And it's not actually untrue. She knows the physical effect she has on him, she's seen, felt and tasted it before, but Levi's hasn't been very vocal about this stuff so far –not unless they're in the middle of it and his brain gets foggy enough that he starts blabbering barely audible affectionate words to her she thinks she'll never get enough of. He's an action over words guy, much better at conveying how much he likes the way she's now slowly pushing the tip of her tongue in and out of him by threading his fingers through her hair and pulling her even closer, much more comfortable with tilting his hips towards her to try and get more of the contact he so desperately craves right now than by begging out loud for it.
"So, that's the big –fuck– surprise?" he asks between moans he can't keep in, "you driving me mad by edging me like this for hours? Cause that's hardly fucking surpri–
Hange opens her mouth wider and, before he finishes his sentence and her nerves get the better of her, lets the flat of her tongue and the hard metal of her now thirteen days old piercing come in contact with Levi's clit, lightly but firmly stroking it.
Levi startles and yelps at the unusual feeling, tugging at her hair in shock, but Hange's hands settle his hips back down before he can move again.
"Easy, easy," she chuckles, and lifts her head up high enough to proudly show him her new toy. "That's the surprise! You like?"
He freezes on the spot and stares down at her in silence, mouth agape and eyes open wide, and some of her confidence starts to wear off.
"You don't?” she asks instead, much less enthusiastic suddenly. “Shit. I'm sorry I scared you. You know how long I've wanted one of these, and I just thought this would be a funny way to show–
"You lied,” he cuts off her nervous rambling, frowning though his hand is now rubbing at her scalp gently where he pulled a little too hard before.
"What? How?”
“I'm obviously not the only reason you got out of your dorm in the last two weeks," he accuses, with a pout she almost can't tell is fake.
But there's a playful glint to his eyes that she's getting more and more familiar with as she spends more time with this relaxed, open side of him she loves so much, and she decides to mess with him right back.
"Who says I didn't do it myself?" she teases, wiggling her eyebrows.
His entire demeanor changes then, so fast she startles when he sits up and angles her head higher and away from where he needs her the most. He takes a deep breath and settles his free hand on her jaw to keep her mouth open, carefully studying the piece of jewelry.
"Hange Natsu Zoë, for the sake of your immune system and my sanity,” he starts as he looks back up and into her eyes, “you better swear to me that you did not pierce your own fucking tongue."
Hange barks out a laugh at the seriousness in his tone, shaking her head free and pushing him hard enough that he lies back down.
"Truth be told, I watched a couple of Youtube tutorials on the topic," she admits when she's back into position, gently and effortlessly sliding two of her fingers into him, relishing in the shiver she can feel spreading through his body at the smooth intrusion -and how well it works to make him forget whatever he was going to retort in reply. "But it didn't seem worth the risk to end up in the ER while you were on triage duty."
Levi clicks his tongue at her, but it turns into a hiss when she puts her lips over his clit and lightly sucks on it, twirling her piercing around it once it's trapped inside her mouth.
She releases it right when she can tell Levi was nearing his peak, and wordlessly apologizes by hooking and thrusting her fingers faster and faster in and out of him. She alternates between rubbing either the metal piercing and the muscle of her tongue on him, careful not too put too much pressure as he tends to get sensitive.
But Levi doesn't seem to remember that, and he cants his hips closer to her mouth still, his powerful thighs squeezing her head between them, stronger and stronger as she quickens the pace, her mouth and hand working in tandem as she ignores the building pain in her jaw and the need to breathe.
He comes with a loud strangled cry that vaguely resembles her name, and she almost loses focus as she realizes that. She doesn't stop swirling her tongue over him, avoiding his clit and gathering every drop of wetness she can feel leaking out of him to drink it hungrily. Her fingers fight against his squeezing walls to keep pushing against that sweet spot inside of him, drawing out his orgasm and making his entire body shake as he rides the tide.
"Fucking hell," she hears him sigh when he finally releases the pressure around her head, his legs falling heavily on each side of her body onto the mattress.
Hange takes a deep breath in when she's free, wipes her nose, chin and fingers on the sheets and grins up at him and his blushed, fucked-out face. He lazily reaches down and she complies, dragging herself upwards until they're face to face.
He kisses her without needing to think about it like he used to in the early stages of their relationship. His tongue ventures into her mouth immediately, languidly exploring and eager to play with the new addition, and Hange regretfully parts from that exciting enthusiasm when he tugs a little too forcefully at it.
"Careful! It's still sensitive. This shit needs like two months to heal properly."
Levi frowns again at that, and Hange has to bite her lips to stop herself from commenting on just how adorable he looks, trying to look all strict and serious when half of his brain is clearly not completely functional yet.
“Were you even supposed to do that so soon?" he worries, cupping her face into his hands.
It's almost too gentle a moment to ruin it, but Hange's never been one to refuse that kind of a challenge.
“Was it that bad? You know, you have to tell me if you don't like–
The rest of her sentence is muffled behind the hand he's just shoved against her mouth to keep her quiet. She loses tracks of whatever she was going to say anyway when she looks down at him in forced silence, at his rosy cheeks and nose, at his parted lips, at his dilated pupils and the odd determination she can see growing in his eyes.
“I love it,” he whispers softer than she's ever heard him speak, not even glancing down at her mouth.
He removes his hand, thumb caressing her upper lip as he goes, and she feels herself mirroring the gorgeous, easy smile that show on his own face, unable to tell if she's more frustrated or exhilarated at that maybe hint that he could have been talking about something other than her oral skills.
#levihan#snk#shingeki no kyojin#levi ackerman#hange zoë#levihan fanfiction#snk fanfiction#my stuff#mutuals#asks#youre ackermine#hange's piercings#squad denial#trans levihan#trans levi ackerman#trans hange zoë#t4t levihan
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Falloutober Day Six
Monument
SIBLING FLUFF! This day serves as another look back into Frankie's past, to when he was little. We get a snippet of his relationship with his three older sisters. More specifically, his relationship with Elizabeth, who basically ends up raising the three others after they move to Texas following their mother's passing ~4 years prior.
Lots of ranches in the West Texas/Panhandle region were bought up by oil companies in the '50s and Frankie's father isn't too pleased about the whole thing. Frankie is very young and doesn't understand his father is (mostly) speaking metaphorically and ends up a bit traumatized.
Next prompts will actually be post-War this time lol
Ages: Elizabeth (16), Jane (13), Mary (9.5 - the half is very important!), and Frankie (just turned 6)
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: alcoholism, corporal punishment, childhood neglect, religious themes
"What's that they're doin' over there, Pa?"
The sun had risen high in the August sky. A halo of light shone around his father's head. Frankie had to squint up at him where he sat on the porch in his favorite rocking chair, staring angrily at the horizon.
"Settin' up more of them oil rigs."
His voice bore the tone he took when he was angry about something or other. Frankie watched as his father picked up an empty beer bottle and brought it to his lips. He spit a thick, brown liquid into it with a sound that made Frankie's face scrunch up in disgust.
Frankie turned his attention to where his father was looking. The men on the rigs were mere specks compared to the looming metal infrastructure surrounding them.
"What's an oil rig 'n why're they buildin' so many of 'em?"
"All you gotta know 'bout 'em is that they're monuments of greed, built up by the kind of man that don't believe in leavin' God's creations alone."
"They worship the Devil?"
"Yeup."
"Who let 'em do that?" Frankie asked, appalled.
"'Member that old feller who up and died a year or two back?"
"No."
"Well, his kids was s'posed to take care of the place. They sold it to some company and now they're doin' this nonsense," he said, gesturing off into the distance with his bottle before spitting into it again.
"Why'd they go 'nd sell it, Pa?"
He grumbled something under his breath.
"You're askin' too many goddamn questions, boy. Get me another beer then go play with your sister's inside."
"But I don't wanna play inside - all they do is mess with their dolls! I wanna play cowboys and Injuns with Wyatt, Buck, 'nd them."
"Do I have to whoop you like last week?"
Frankie's eyes widened as his father leaned down to glare at him. Swallowing hard, he shook his head furiously.
He still had bruises on his bottom from where his father's belt had welted the skin there. It had been his eldest sister, Elizabeth, who had snagged some ointment for him from the school nurse's office.
Frankie scurried off without another word, moving as quickly as possible to grab his father another beer from the fridge. He brought it out to him in silence. His father grunted as he took it, not looking down at him.
Frankie sulked his way back into the house. His sisters were in the living room, as expected. Elizabeth, his eldest sister, was sitting on the couch. She was listening to a radio show while she carefully stitched away at something in her lap.
"I can't believe you ripped my Raggedy Ann doll," Jane said, accosting the youngest of the three, Mary. "Are you slow or somethin'?"
Mary shook her head, tears welled up in her eyes.
"I ain't slow! 'Nd I said I was sorry!"
"Knock it off, you two," Elizabeth said sharply. "I'm fixing it right now, just gimme a minute."
Frankie passed the two girls on the floor and pulled himself onto the couch beside Elizabeth. He watched quietly as she stitched away, but he grew restless.
"Hey, Lizzie? How do you make it so the string don't come out when you're done?"
"Doesn't come out," she corrected. "All you gotta do is tie a knot. See, watch."
Frankie paid close attention as Elizabeth tied off the end of the thread. She brought the whole thing up to her mouth and used her teeth to rip off the excess. She showed Frankie the finished product and he ran his finger over the stitches.
"Good as new?" he asked, looking up at her.
She smiled and nodded, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair.
"Yup. Good as new. Here, Jane," she said, tossing the doll to her.
Jane examined her handiwork and gave an approving nod.
"Thanks, Liz."
"Any time. Now quit bein' so mean to poor Mary."
"Yeah! Quit bein' mean to poor me!" Mary parroted, sticking her tongue out at Jane.
"What're you doin' today, Frankie?" Elizabeth asked, taking to ignoring her sisters as they continued bickering.
"Nothin'," he said with a sigh. Elizabeth gave him a knowing look, so he continued, "Told Pa I wanted to see Wyatt and Buck, but he said for me tuh go inside and play with y'all instead."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and then leaned down to whisper in Frankie's ear.
"Don't tell them I said this, but Pa's been a real ass lately, even to me. It's 'cause of all that booze he's drinkin'."
Frankie giggled as her breath tickled his ear. He pushed her off playfully.
"Maybe we play cowboys and Injuns instead?" he asked, eyes lighting up.
Elizabeth shrugged, a smirk gracing her lips.
"Don't see why not."
"I wanna be a cowboy," Jane announced, having overheard their conversation.
"No, me 'nd Frankie are the cowboys," Elizabeth said firmly. "You 'nd Mary are the Injuns."
"That ain't fair and you know it!" Mary protested, crossing her arms in a huff.
"Try bein' born first next time, then we'll talk."
The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur, with Frankie and his sisters switching off between various games as they found ways to entertain themselves. At some point, their father stumbled in from the porch and demanded they clean up, ending the fun.
Later, Jane heated up some leftover chicken for them and they ate dinner together while their father slept on the couch in the living room.
"Who wants to say Grace?" Elizabeth asked.
"I do!" Frankie said, raising his arm high above his head.
No one disputed his claim, so they clasped hands and bowed their heads.
"Thank you God and Jesus for the food you have given us. Thank you for keeping us safe. Please keep blessing us and our food like you do every day. And please make those Devils next door go away forever. Amen."
"Amen," the girls said in unison, dropping their hands.
Later that evening, Frankie couldn't fall asleep, the metal screeching and groaning keeping him awake as the sounds rolled across the flat land between the properties. He got up and put on his slippers, creeping through the halls to Elizabeth's room.
She was tangled in her sheets, dead asleep, a book open beside her on the bed. Frankie tip-toed over to her and pulled her sheets up like she did for him most nights. He grabbed the book and made sure to dog-ear it before placing it on her nightstand. As he tip-toed away, Elizabeth stirred.
"Frankie? What're you doin' up so late?" she said groggily, groaning as she rolled over to block the light streaming in from the hallway.
"Sorry, Lizzie," Frankie whispered back sheepishly, feeling guilty for waking her up. "I couldn't sleep. Those Devil money rigs are keeping me awake."
He watched in the dim light as Elizabeth sighed and scooted over, patting the bed. He wasted no time clambering in beside her, pulling the sheets up to his neck for comfort.
"What is all this about?" she asked, rolling onto her back now so she could turn her head to face her younger brother. "You said all that stuff at dinner…"
"Pa said the oil rigs are made by evil men who aren't scared of God. They use them as monuments to the Devil! Then I keep hearin' the sounds they make… They're like demons hollerin’. What if they-"
"Don't be scared of some dumb machines. They can't hurt you all the way over here."
"But Pa said-"
"Pa don't so much as know what day it is… Speakin' of which, we got mass in the mornin'."
"Yeah, yeah, I know… Pa goin’ with us?"
“Naw, he slept on the couch. His neck’s bound to be hurtin’.”
“Maybe we can ride the tractor to church instead of the truck,” Frankie suggested, wiggling a little in his excitement.
“Sure. I’ll even let you sit on my lap and steer a little if you hush up ‘bout it.”
Frankie nodded firmly and squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to fall asleep.
A minute or so passed before he realized he'd forgotten something important he'd wanted to say. His eyes shot open in a panic and he poked at Elizabeth’s arm.
"Lizzie… Psst… You awake?"
"Hmm?"
"I forgot to say I love you."
"I love you, too, Frankie. Now please get some sleep, a'ight?"
"Okay. 'Night."
"G'night."
#not these children in their sunday best showing up to church on a tractor lmaooooo#elizabeth secretly likes the attention she gets from the local boys bc of it & gets to pretend for a minute that she's a normal teenager#anyway i'm going clinically insane over the tenderness between elizabeth and frankie#lizzie won't hesitate to throat punch her sisters. but they aren't sensitive like frankie is & honestly deserve it most of the time#as frankie grows older lizzie only becomes more fiercly protective of him & especially so after he comes out to her#they are each other's ride or dies and honestly the idea of lizzie being killed when the bombs fall RUINS me#so i've chosen to instead to ghoullify her. she eventually works/travels with the Followers of the Apocalypse and lives happily ever after#obligatory tag time#regg writes#oc: frankie#ficlet time
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have you read the clementine book? if so what are your thoughts?
i said a lot of my thoughts when the book was first announced,, and thought it was going to suck for a myriad of reasons,,,
and i was right lol
i havent read it 100% myself since i refuse to engage with it and i pretend it doesnt exist, but ive seen pages of it here and there and ive read other in depth reviews out of morbid curiosity and its just...................... it sucks so much...........................
putting this under a read more for those of u also pretending this comic doesnt exist so u can continue on ur day 💕
clem as a character has reverted back to her s3 self, and not even the end of s3 but the beginning of it before she opened up to the garcias and was just an angry distrustful loner who was tired of watching everyone she cared about die around her (which is why she pushed people away..and its like... a major part of her character development for s3.. and is now being used as her development for this book that takes place AFTER S4!!). so not only are we getting a complete retcon basically of s4, but also s3 technically?? who is this person this is not post s4 clem. this is literally 13/14 year old clem
ALSO can i just say.. when i read the synopsis and it said she was "moving into a new community of teens" i was expecting it to actually be like.....a Community...... and not LITERALLY JUST LIKE 3 PEOPLE.......... 2 of which are our store brand minnie/sophie stand-ins and the 3rd is a a half baked love interest. actually its worse than half baked. her calling clem "baby" made me choke. i was also expecting amos and whatever her name is to both be possible love interests (even tho i wasnt thrilled by the idea of either of them. louis and violet are good thanks), but no amos gets with one of the sisters and dies 💀 and the girl is calling clem "baby" before book 1 is even over................................................................ LIKE WHAT IS THIS. also why tf are these 3 TEENAGERS..ALONE... building new houses?? in the middle of winter in VERMONT!!?!?!?!?? make it make sense im begging. AND!!! theyre LEAVING!! this community!!!! at the end of the book??? WHAT?? not only did they scrap the s4 teen community but their own freaking teen community as well and now theyre going to an island or something??? and its sounding like an "island of dr moreau" reference so thats... idk im bored already. like what are we doing. what is this
and i cannot BELIEVE... clems reasoning for leaving the school.... is that she felt like the kids were treating her differently?? that people thought since she lost her leg that she was like.. useless?? the ericson kids would QUITE LITERALLY NEVER. you know aside from the fact that louis or violet could end s4 with their own disability giving them something in common with clem since they receive their injuries at basically the same time and are getting used to their new limitations side by side... HOW MANY TIMES... did clem hear from different kids... that they owe their lives to her, that she protected them and gave them a fighting chance, that she turned ericsons into a safe place worth fighting for and saved them from being a bunch of scared kids hiding in the woods just waiting for something to happen to them, how without her theyd all be child soldiers or dead....... ericsons as a community was all about these traumatized abandoned kids banding together to take care of each other in a harsh world where everyone neglected and forgot about them. they were a bunch of "troubled" kids nobody wanted not even their own families, who each were suffering from their own issues and became a tight knit group where they all looked out for each other. WHERE... IN ANY OF THIS..... does it make sense for clem to feel ostracized?? for them to treat her differently??? just because of her leg (which again shes not the only one with a disability)?? which aj specifically states he will make her a new one? lets also not get into the fact of what her losing her leg is supposed to symbolize because ive said it a million times. but i guess it makes sense for that to be retconned too since its all about her not being on the road anymore and how she has a stable and safe community of people she loves who she can rely on (which is what shes been wanting since...forever). cant have that if we're gonna shove her out on the road again and give her the same problems she had when she was young teen
also.. why tf.. does clem suddenly know NOTHING?? about WOUND CARE?? lets ignore the fact that shes leaving the school before her leg is even completely healed (wtf). but like......clem has known basic wound care since SEASON 2.. an entire scene is literally clem escaping the shed because she knows itll be bad if her dog bite is left to fester. so she breaks into the house. steals supplies to clean and patch herself up. and then LITERALLY. CLEANS AND STITCHES HERSELF... AT 11 YEARS OLD. leading to the classic and iconic "im still not bitten" line. and aside from literally everything shes learned on the road, theres also ruby? who was literally trained by the school nurse and was definitely taking care of clem and her wound and you KNOW ruby would be on top of it too like "clem did you clean today did you change your bandages let me know if you need help i have more bandages if you need them also painkillers and dont forget to rest"
also i have to just quick mention how fuckin Lame it is that she names her prosthetic "kenny" fuck off. having a character say "yeah. thats a good name" does not make it a good name that actually makes it more glaring honestly. and her flashbacks about lee and how shes like.. mad at him for not saving her or something?? or for like leaving her alone or whatever? its so.. like.. what the fuck... i hate it so much... it feels so childish honestly?? clem never blamed lee for Anything he fought so hard for her and she knows that. i feel like if anything she would have guilt for running away in the first place since its the reason he got bit? its not HIS fault he fuckin died. and he walked through hell to make sure he got her to safety
ok. i think thats everything new i have to add. there were a lot of other problems too but i dont feel like sitting here ripping this book to shreds again i just want to pretend it doesnt exist. ive at least completely separated it from the rest of twdg and i can look at it as its own mess. that is NOT clementine and i can say that with 1000% certainty now. now its just like watching a car wreck. but i know that clem is still back at ericsons enjoyin her fuckin life and vibing
#twdg#skybound x#i think thats the tag i used for it#replies with lexi#incognito#it sucks...i hate it...#ive seen some people say that if it wasnt clem and was instead some random new character it wouldnt be so bad#but idk#i think it still has problems separate from clem being the main character#but it being clem is definitely where the most of the problems stem from
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The Turning Red 9/11 review is probably old news at this point but I’m really fucking angry tonight and need to blow off some steam, so I am finally breaking my silence on this matter, because there is so much I need to scream about.
This is not in any particular order because I just don’t fucking care, so bear with me as we sift through what is possibly the angriest post I will ever make on this hellsite.
“Boy bands were on the way out”
Bullshit. I was born in 2004, and let me tell you, boy bands were absolutely still in during the late 2000s and into the 2010s (Inside Out, another Pixar film released in 2015, directly states the main character likes boy bands at the end). Even ignoring the obvious example of One Direction, there were pop groups like Big Time Rush, punk groups like Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and today, we have K-pop groups like BTS. In fact, there is literally a member of 4*Town directly based on a member of BTS.
See that? That’s a breathing reminder that boy bands are still popular and that your point is literally false.
“This strange adult trying to completely obscure their appearance, carrying a box”
1. The only thing different about Ming’s appearance in that scene is that she’s wearing sunglasses, which is something the Aunties do later in the film when they are doing the opposite of obscuring their appearances, 2. Ming has a child in the school (who’s in Grade 8, so she’s been there for three years), so they would absolutely recognize a child’s parent, especially one as overprotective as Ming, and 3. What box? It was hidden in her purse, out of sight of the security man. Even then, the box is very obviously a box of menstrual pads, and not something that would raise suspicion.
Gee, I sure do wonder who that is...
“I bring {9/11} up because it radically altered the culture of the time”
Then how come I didn’t learn about it until I was 12, in 2016, when the 2000s were over? By the way, I see you showing a Muslim character on screen when you start bringing up a terrorist attack that sparked a huge wave of Islamophobia that still hasn’t stopped today. Real classy there.
That poor woman. She didn’t deserve this shit.
“The dad has two words throughout the whole thing, then near the end he decides to become an actual character”
THE MOVIE IS NOT ABOUT JIN! THE POINT IS THAT THE RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN THE MOTHERS AND DAUGTHERS ARE STRAINED AND NEED TO BE FIXED! JIN IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE A SMALL PRESENCE BECAUSE HE IS LARGELY UNINVOLVED IN THE PROBLEM!
You’re just mad that Jin didn’t have a larger role because he’s a man, aren’t you. This whole fucking video reeks of misogyny.
“Anime was a more niche thing”
More bullshit! Anime like Pokemon, Dragon Ball, and Sailor Moon (a major influence on the movie) became popular in North America during the 90s, and exploded in popularity in the 2000s! The early 2000s were also around the time that anime-style effects became more common in Western cartoons (see: Teen Titans 2003). Anime was more of a flavour of the decade than fucking 9/11!
See? Stacy understands the assignment. Why don’t you?
“(literally anything he says about Ming, take your pick)”
You clearly do not understand the point of the term “exaggeration for comedic effect”. The point of scenes like the school scene and the Daisy Mart is that Ming is overreacting, and it’s causing a rift between her and Mei that needs to be resolved before the movie’s conclusion.
Also, the way you word things makes it sound like Ming went to the Daisy Mart for Devon’s sake. She didn’t go because she wanted Devon to know that her daughter was drawing suggestive fanart of him, she went because she suspected someone she thought was a grown-ass adult was hitting on her 13 year old daughter. In what fucking world is Ming not justified to be pissed off at the idea that a 30 year old was trying to fuck around with her minor child? (Doesn’t mean it was right for her to shout at him, just saying I totally understand her mama bear rage)
“blah blah blah Disney selling your values back to you, yadda yadda rainbow capitalism, what the fuck ever, I don’t fucking care anymore”
This is where it becomes blatant that this review was written by a white man. Turning Red is important because it’s the first time a woman (a woman of colour too, no less) was able to direct a Pixar movie and not have that credit stripped from her and given to a man (ahem, Brave). It’s the first time a girl of colour has stepped into the spotlight in a Pixar movie. It’s the first time in God knows who long that I’ve watched a movie about a girl and really felt like it was truly about a girl. So many girls and women, of colour or not, felt seen by this movie, and it’s coming from Pixar, a company that previously had staggeringly poor treatment of women and POC. If this movie is not proof of how far Pixar has come, and isn’t a goddamn accomplishment, then I don’t know what is.
Braceface is irrelevant because that show has nothing at all to do with Turning Red besides the two shows both starring teenage girls in early 2000s Canada. Turning Red talking about periods is just as important as Braceface talking about periods, because in case you couldn’t tell from the backlash this movie got, periods (and female puberty in general) are still something that a lot of people feel shame about, and it absolutely must be normalized. By the way, a lot of episodes of Braceface (not the one mentioned in the review, but a lot of others and even the entire third season), as well as a few episodes of 6teen, which started airing a few years later, were banned in the US because they talked about heavier subjects (which included elements of female puberty, adolescence, and yes, periods), so your point about being “dArInG” is also irrelevant, because when cartoons in that time period tried to “be daring” (a.k.a be realistic to a teenager’s life), they were very quickly shut down, or at least received major controversy.
This entire video was a disaster. It’s truly broken me. Turning Red was not the most perfect movie ever, but god DAMN I feel sorry for Domee Shi and her crew for having to put up with all of the shit their work has been receiving.
Thank you and good night. I’ll be jamming to 4*Town in the corner, if you don’t mind.
#turning red#pixar turning red#turning red 9/11#turning red mei#turning red ming#turning red jin#turning red 4town#4*town#turning red tae young#4*town tae young#pixar#rant#tw swearing#tw islamophobia#tw misogyny
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🩷I’ve Been Wasting Away
Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang/Harumi Hasashi
Length: 4647 Words
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied Neglect, Starvation, Malnutrition, Being Held Prisoner, There is some debate in the fic on if Kuai is an adult or not but he is 18 tho, Harumi looking at Kuai Liang: I can fix him
Mortal Kombat Oneshots Masterlist
Notes: Ptthh, the fact I’m actually somewhat managing to keep to my self imposed posting schedule is something. Again this was written like last December some time I just hadn’t gotten around to posting it yet. This one was written to be a one shot, but I maybe one day I’ll add more to it (look, if you can’t tell already, I’m really bad with having a million fic projects at one time lmao.) Also Harumi being the previous Shirai Ryu Grandmaster’s daughter is a headcanon that Ed Boon himself will have to pry from my hands.
Harumi knew something was going on. She wasn't stupid. She was 21 years old and knew when things were going down around here. Given how many senior Shirai Ryu warriors were running around, it was something big too.
They were all congregating around the jail, meaning they had to have a prisoner. As she spied on them, hearing whispers of “Lin Kuei”. She bit her lip, heading towards the Grandmaster's dojo.
“Father!” She burst through the doors, where her father was stood with some of his closest generals, including the father of her fiancé. “Is it true? Is there a Lin Kuei here?”
“Harumi, you know you shouldn't be here,” Akihito softly scolded. She could see a couple of the generals smile to themselves, it was an open secret that the only person who could break the rules without consequences was Harumi. It was a little upsetting having the reputation as a “daddy’s girl” but sometimes she did use it to her advantage.
“Yes, yes,” she waved off the complaint. “But is it true?”
Akihito hesitated, before admitting “yes, it is.” He then pointed his finger at her and in his best authoritative voice told her, “but you are not to get involved in any of this, do you understand me?”
She pouted. She understood her father's desire to keep her safe, why he'd forbade her from joining the Shirai Ryu, but it still made her a little angry. She wanted to be useful to her family, the Shirai Ryu had accepted female warriors for decades. Why couldn’t she join their ranks and fight side by side with her friends and husband-to-be?
Before she could voice her objections, she heard a gentle cough from one side.
“Actually, Grandmaster Hisakawa, I do believe she may be able to help.” All faces in the room turned to Master Hasashi, most of them shocked, Harumi curious and her father looking like he was about to start chewing him out. “The Lin Kuei has been refusing to eat, we worry that if we can not convince him to, he will be too weak to last an interrogation.” He turned his face toward her. “We believe he is scared. You have a very calming presence, Harumi, you may be able to convince him to eat.”
“Kaito,” Akihito warned lowly.
“Grandmaster, I am not convinced that this Lin Kuei is of age,” Kaito argued. Harumi frowned, the Lin Kuei's tactics she knew of rarely made sense to her, but it seemed needlessly reckless to send a child into battle. “And even if he is, I doubt he can be any older than 18. If this is the case, he will not know anything of importance. Hell, he likely doesn't even know why he was sent here.”
“It does seem suspicious,” one of the other masters, Chie, added in. She was stroking her hair back as she spoke. “13 is considered old enough to go on missions in the Lin Kuei, but they don’t tend send them on solo missions until at least 20. Why send someone so young on a solo mission, especially one right into the heart of their greatest enemies operation?”
“Unless they were hoping our hatred of the Lin Kuei would trump our empathy for someone so young,” Noboru almost mumbled, like he was considering something. “Unless they were sending him here to die.”
Harumi shuddered at the thought. Even if the Lin Kuei was over 18, it sounded like he couldn't be older than herself. The thought of someone sending him out with the intent of him getting killed? That was horrific. She had been told her entire life of the brutal conditions the Lin Kuei worked under, but this was beyond anything she could imagine.
Akihito closed his eyes, and sighed, before he turned to Harumi. “I do not wish to ask this of you, but Kaito is right. You are the most calming presence we have here, you may be able to succeed in gaining his trust.”
“I will not let you down,” she announced, so glad to finally have a use within the Shirai Ryu. Sure, mediator wasn't the most action packed of jobs, but it was a skill she figured most of the others were lacking. “I will go warm up the miso soup I made earlier and see if I can convince him to take it.”
“Please be careful, even if he is young, he could still be dangerous,” Akihito warned, placing his hand on her cheek. “If he so much as lays a finger on you, it's over.”
“I understand, I'm sure it won't have to happen like that.” She bowed to her father and the other masters, who bowed to her in turn. With that, she turned on her heel to go and gather the soup.
With the hot soup in her hands, she made her way over to the jail, where Akihito and his masters were stood explaining the situation to the current guards. The guards that just so happened to be made of Hanzo and his two friends Junpei and Katashi. She could see before she even got close that Hanzo was not happy.
“I am ready,” she announced, everyone turning to her. Hanzo was glaring at her, she was definitely going to have to make this up to him later.
“I still think someone should go in with her,” Junpei piped up, “maybe Hanzo should-”
“The kid is scared,” Kaito butted in, “if someone goes in there armed to the teeth, it's just going to put him further on edge.”
“I'll be fine,” Harumi assured everyone, but she could see it did absolutely nothing to persuade Hanzo. “If I need help I will call for it.”
Reluctantly everyone moved aside and the door was slid open. She didn't make any eye contact as she stepped inside and the door was closed behind her. The jail was small, the Shirai Ryu didn't take prisoners often, so there were only two cells. Sat curled in a ball with his head ducked under his knees, chained up, was what she could only assume was the Lin Kuei.
He wasn't wearing a shirt, and she was a little sickened by what she saw. He had muscle, that was certain, but that didn't really hide how thin he was. She could see his ribs for fucks sake. That wasn't just a few hours refusing to eat, that was months, maybe even years, of lack of food. Maybe the reason they were having such a hard time pin pointing his age was due to stunted growth and malnutrition. The thought made her blood boil.
Still, she took a deep breath and softly called out, “hello, my name is Harumi.”
The Lin Kuei tensed, but moved his head until his eyes were at least visible. She was struck by just how blue his eyes were. She tried to ignore the large jagged scar over his right eye.
“I've been asked to give you food,” she explained, passing the bowl of soup through the bars and gently placing it on the floor in front of him.
“I refuse to eat,” the Lin Kuei hissed. Even his voice was as ambiguous regarding his age, not light or deep enough to say for sure if he was an adult or not. “Tell your masters I choose to die.”
“Well, my masters don't want to kill you,” she tried, settling down on the floor in front of him. “And we would rather you eat.”
“Why?” The Lin Kuei asked, finally jerking his head up and putting his legs down. “I know nothing that would be of use to you! The Lin Kuei will not come for me, and will not negotiate for my release. You have no choice but to kill me.”
“Hm, no I think we do have other choices,” Harumi disagreed, trying to stop herself from giggling at the way the Lin Kuei pouted. “And I'm afraid you not eating isn't one of them. If you don't we may have to force feed you, and trust me, that is a very unpleasant situation to be in.”
The Lin Kuei didn't say anything, just frowned like he was considering what she'd said. He didn't go for the soup though. She reached forward, pushing it a little closer to him. He regarded it for a second, before he finally reached for it and after sniffing it began to eat. Harumi let out a relieved sigh.
“Thank you,” she softly said, curious about his reaction to the soup. He seemed surprised, but not repulsed. “So, what's your name?”
The Lin Kuei glared at her like she'd just asked him to jump off a cliff. Eventually however he mumbled out the word “Tundra.”
She knew it must have been a codename, but at least she had something to call him now.
“How old are you, Tundra?” She asked. He looked at her again, although this time he looked more confused.
“Why?” He asked, looking very guarded.
“It's been a bit of a debate since you got here,” she tried with a smile. “I would appreciate being able to put an end to it.”
Tundra looked at her like she was mad, but eventually answered, “I'm 18.” So, he was an adult, but barely. “Wait, is that why they don't want to kill me? Because they think I'm a kid?”
“Even at 18, you're a little young to be considered for execution.”
“I'm 18! I'm an adult!” The fact he was practically throwing a tantrum was really not helping his case.
“Well, I'm 21 and due to be married, but my father still considers me a child, so trust me, you have no chance of convincing them you aren't one.” They stared at each other for a solid minute in silence. Then to Harumi's complete surprise, Tundra began to laugh.
“That's so weird,” Tundra giggled. “Then again, my brother still treats me like I'm a kid, even though I’ve been going on missions for years. This was meant to be the one where I proved him wrong.” He stopped laughing, staring at the chains cuffed to his wrists. “I guess I fucked that up, hm.”
“I don't think that was your fault,” Harumi sympathised.
She wanted to question a Lin Kuei having a brother. She knew they generally didn't hold onto family ties. There were only two consistent bloodlines in the Lin Kuei, the Grandmaster's bloodline and the Sub Zero bloodline. She doubted Tundra was part of the Grandmaster's bloodline, there was no way he'd have been sent here alone.
She then realised something.
Blue eyes. The name Tundra. Having an older brother.
Oh. Oh shit.
She tried not to let her realisation show, she didn't want Tundra to question her. She instead continued to make small talk, until he'd finished his soup. She took the bowl, told him that she'd be back to let him know what was going to happen to him, and left.
When she stepped out, she saw the brief moment of relief on everyone's face. That was until they saw how serious she looked, at which point the nervous energy swiftly returned.
“Harumi? My girl, what's wrong?” Akihito asked, pushing forward to take her face in his hands. She looked at him, and gulped, unsure how he would take the suspicion she was about to drop on him.
“I think he might be Sub Zero's brother.”
She had anticipated that her suspicion would be met with a level on unease.
She hadn't anticipated the sheer panic it caused.
An emergency meeting had been called, and she was unfortunately front and centre. Thankfully, other than herself it was just her father, Kaito, Chie, Noboru, Hanzo, Junpei and Katashi. Even so, everyone was looking at her extremely expectantly, and she wasn't sure what to say.
“Harumi, would you care to explain why you have come to the conclusion you have?” Akihito slowly questioned. “Did he tell you he was related to Sub Zero?”
“No,” she explained, realising just how little evidence she had. It was more just a passing and nagging thought that snowballed. “All he told me for definite was that his name is Tundra, he's 18, and he doesn't think the Lin Kuei will come or negotiate for him.”
“Then, why do you think he's related to Sub Zero?” Chie asked, she sounded unsure, likely hoping that it was just a crazy theory.
“Well, it was a couple of things.” She reached to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “He has blue eyes, like really blue eyes, like unnaturally blue eyes." She heard Junpei snort as if that meant nothing. “Then there's the name. Tundra. Kind of winter related.” She saw Katashi rolling his eyes. “And then he mentioned having a brother. And I thought that was weird cause the Lin Kuei don't normally keep families together, right?”
The room was silent. Junpei and Katashi still looked disbelieving, and so did Hanzo to a degree. The masters in the room however, looked far more troubled by this.
“I didn't ask, because I didn't want to scare him further.” She linked her fingers together and made eye contact with her father. “It just seemed strange, and that was the only explanation I could think of.”
It was still silent. Akihito slowly turned to Junpei and Katashi, and quietly ordered “please can you bring him here.”
Junpei and Katashi suddenly looked a lot more serious, and they scrambled to go and leave the room. Hanzo turned back to them, now looking like he was also no longer as skeptical.
“You really think he could be related?” Hanzo asked, eyes darting around but mostly landing on his own father.
“Lin Kuei don't care for family,” Kaito explained, “They only have two constant bloodlines, and I highly doubt that the Lin Kuei are sending someone from the Grandmaster's bloodline on a solo mission like this at 18.”
It didn't take too long for Junpei and Katashi to return, Tundra in tow. He was still cuffed and chained up, but he wasn't resisting. It looked more like he was resigned to whatever fate they had chosen for him.
“Tundra, is it? We have not been properly introduced,” Akihito stated as he stood up from his chair. God, with Tundra standing she could see how short he was, especially compared to her father. He practically towered above him. “I am Grandmaster Hisakawa Akihito.”
“I know,” Tundra replied, sounding like he wanted to be brave and disrespect the man in front of him, but the shake in his voice giving him away.
Akihito gestured for Tundra to be brought to the table, pointing to a seat right next to his as head of the table, and opposite Harumi. She had no doubt that this was on purpose. Tundra sat down, glancing across the table to Harumi. She expected him to look pissed off with her, but instead his look was slightly pleading, like he was hoping she would protect him from something.
What does he think we're going to do with him?
“I will skip to the point of this meeting,” Akihito started, holding his hands in front of him on the table with his fingers linked, “you spoke with my daughter earlier.” Tundra's eyes widened, as he gave Harumi a betrayed look. Oh shit, I didn't mention that to him. “And you mentioned having a brother.” Tundra looked back to Akihito, looking like he was trying to remain impartial. “Is your brother Sub Zero?”
Tundra was silent, just shifted like he was uncomfortable.
“Why does that matter?” He muttered, trying to look anywhere but Akihito. In Harumi's mind, this was a resounding “yes” to the question. It seemed her father wanted a more solid answer though.
“Please, just tell us.”
Tundra was silent before he brought a hand to the table. He held it there for a second, a blue glow escaping his finger tips. When he was done, he moved his hand, revealing a tiny bear made of ice on the table. Harumi's jaw dropped.
“Does that answer your question?” Tundra questioned, looking around at the other people in the room, equally as slack jawed as Harumi was. Especially Hanzo. She knew he had a sort of rivalry with Sub Zero, so no doubt having his little brother so close wasn't something he'd expected.
“It does,” Akihito breathed out, gingerly picking up the bear. He looked at it with a small smile on his face, like he was looking at something cute. To be fair, the fact Tundra had chosen to make a mini ice sculpture to prove the point was adorable. Akihito's face dropped, as he looked over to Tundra again. “You could have escaped or attempted to at any point.”
“I could,” Tundra admitted quietly, “but there was no point.” He looked down at his hands and the cuffs. “Even if I escaped and got back to the Lin Kuei, I would be executed for being caught. I've seen it happen before. I'm dead whatever I do, might as well accept that.”
The way Tundra spoke, like his death was inevitable no matter how this went down, was alarming. It was a very depressing way for an 18 year old to be thinking. Someone who should be enjoying the newfound freedoms of adulthood, not fearing his own execution.
“We aren't going to kill you,” Akihito tried to assure him, but it was clear Tundra did not believe that. “What about your brother? Sub Zero is a prestigious lineage, surely he could have some sway with your elders.”
Tundra shook his head. “They will just tell him I died by your hands, and he will believe them.”
To Harumi's surprise, Akihito gestured to Junpei to unlock Tundra's cuffs. After being freed, Tundra just looked at the Grandmaster expectantly. Nothing happened, and Harumi wasn't sure what was supposed to be occurring right now.
“You are still not attempting escape.”
“I've told you, there's no point.” Tundra rubbed his wrists. “And I don't know enough for you to bother keeping me alive, so can we just skip this and get to the part where you kill me.”
“You are very insistent on us killing you.” Harumi knew her father, and knew from the way he was speaking he was extremely uncomfortable. He was likely imagining her at 18 years old and in Tundra's place. A quick glance towards Kaito and she could tell he was imagining the same but with Hanzo. “You are 18 years old, you are just barely an adult, we are not going to harm you.”
Harumi just rolled her eyes and lent in slightly as she said “told you.”
Despite the situation, she saw Tundra's mouth quirk slightly. She tried to ignore the strange look her father was giving her.
“If not that, then, what are you going to do with me?” Tundra asked before Akihito could question his daughter.
“Well, seeing as you seem reluctant to leave, we can place you with a guard for the time being until we decide how to further deal with you,” Akihito stated. “I do not feel right just letting you rot inside that jail.” And then Akihito's head turned to Hanzo, who jumped at the sudden attention towards him. “Hasashi Hanzo, I request that you be Tundra's guardian for the time being.”
“I- me?” Hanzo, for the first time since Harumi had known him, seemed completely speechless.
“Yes, I believe this will be a good way for you to prove yourself to us.” Akihito had a smirk on his face, he knew that was a surefire way to get Hanzo to agree. Hanzo was always eager to show himself to be a valuable member of the clan. “Not to mention, it seems your wife-to-be has taken quite a shine to your new ward, I'm sure she would very much appreciate if you did.”
Harumi gave Hanzo her best puppy dog eyes to plead with him. If they looked after Tundra it meant that he would live with them. Meaning she could maybe start to try and unravel whatever the hell the Lin Kuei had done to him. At the least, she might be able to start feeding him properly and get him to a healthier weight.
Hanzo grimaced, but finally relented with, “it would be my honour, Grandmaster.”
For all Hanzo's cocky assurance that he was an unpredictable renegade, he was so very very very predictable.
Akihito turned back to Tundra, “do you have any objections to this?”
“No?” Tundra didn't look like he meant that to be a question, but at the same time he seemed completely blindsided by this development.
“Then it is settled.” Akihito brushed his hands as if to indicate that the decision was final.
Harumi went to stand, walking over to the opposite side of the table and holding her hand to Tundra. He hesitated but eventually took it and let her pull him to his feet. She desperately ignored the warning sirens in her head telling her that he was way too light. Hanzo was standing by the door waiting for them. As she approached she gave him a look to tell him they'd talk later, and he nodded in understanding. Tundra looked a little uncomfortable with Hanzo, but Harumi hoped that once he wasn't in his armour, that would change.
She hoped.
“So this is what my life has become,” Hanzo sighed over dramatically. “Babysitter to a stray Lin Kuei.”
Harumi looked up from where she was chopping a spring onion. Upon returning home, she had guided Tundra to the bathroom so he could have a wash and change into some clean clothes. It was some of Hanzo's off duty wear, so she was sure they'd be a bit too big for him, but it was the thought that counted. Still with Kuai in the bath, it gave Harumi time to talk to Hanzo about what they were going to do.
“I know it's probably not how you expected today to go,” she tried, as the scraped the spring onion into her pot, “but it is a good way to show the elder's your dedication to your responsibilities.”
“I hate that's such an effective tool against me,” he muttered, reaching to his hair tie and letting his hair go free. “I'm just going to have to try and look past the fact he's the younger brother of my biggest rival.”
“Yes, yes you are.” She got out the chicken and started to dice it. “But he's not really that much younger than us, I'm sure he'd rather live with us treating him like an equal than with one of the elders treating him like a child.” She smirked and looked over her shoulder at him, “besides he seems far more mature than you were at 18.”
“Excuse you, I was a very mature 18 year old, thank you very much.” Hanzo crossed his arms and looked like a stroppy child.
“Oh really? Mr. Climbs-up-on-the-roof-and-jumps-off-it-because-he-thinks-he-can-survive-it-and-ends-up-breaking-his-leg.”
Hanzo just offered her a sheepish smile at the memory and said “to be fair, I did survive.”
“You are unbelievable,” she muttered, rubbing some salt and pepper over her diced chicken. “I don't know why I ever agreed to marry you.”
She felt arms snake around her waist as Hanzo purred into her ear, “and yet you did.”
She rolled her eyes and turned her head, just enough to be able to give her boyfriend a kiss.
“Oh, ew.”
They both looked over to the doorway to find Tundra stood there, hair still slightly wet and wearing Hanzo's clothes. As Harumi suspected, they were far too big for him, and it was almost funny, like a small child raiding his fathers wardrobe. Almost. If it weren’t a stark reminder of how underweight the young man was.
Hanzo separated from her, and they both watched as Tundra cautiously walked into the room.
“Ah good, Tundra, I'm making chicken ramen for dinner, is that okay with you?”
There was no reply, and she looked back to him. He just looked completely lost.
“I-” he bit his lip and started to rub one of his wrists. “I don't know what that is.”
She hadn't even considered that Tundra was from a completely different culture, and likely didn't eat the same foods she and Hanzo did. This was a good way to start finding a way to bond and gain his trust.
“Ramen is a noodle soup,” she replied and Tundra nodded in understanding. “I'm sorry, I hadn't considered that you might not be familiar with Japanese foods. Are there any Chinese dishes you like? I can try making them, if you'd like.”
Tundra somehow looked even more uncomfortable. “I- Um. I'm not familiar with food. The Lin Kuei's diet is just plain rice with a meat or fish.” Harumi gripped her knife tighter. Rice and a bit of meat was not a healthy diet, at all. “A-also, food is a privilege, so I do not feel right asking you for something unless I've earned it.”
Oh boy. Any reaction she could have possibly had to those words was trumped by the look of sheer abject horror on Hanzo's face.
“What do you mean, food is a privilege?” He demanded, his voice barely holding back his rage. She was surprised he'd had such an extreme reaction, but put down the chicken and went to wash her hands so she could potentially hold her husband back.
“I- Well-” Tundra looked terrified, looking like he was preparing to shield himself from a physical attack. “I- If we fail a training exercise, food privilege's are taken from us and we're not allowed to eat.” Kuai looked down and away. “I failed a lot.”
That explained why he was so thin, they were literally starving him. She managed to reach Hanzo, putting a hand on his shoulder and mouthing at him “calm down”. He looked at her for a second, then back to Tundra, his eyes widening when he realised the young man was scared of his anger. He took a deep breath.
“Well, that isn't how things work around here,” Hanzo said, somewhat calmer, but his rage still lingering in the tone of his voice. “Food isn't a privilege here, it's a right. You are allowed to eat whenever you want. There are set meals we have, but they will never be taken from you. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir,” Tundra muttered, sounding completely miserable.
“It's okay that you don't know what you like yet, we can try out different things and see what sticks,” Harumi offered, desperate to try and deescalate the situation. “For example, did you like the soup from earlier?”
“Y-yes I did,” Tundra nodded. Harumi wasn't sure if he was just being nice, and didn't want to push his luck with them. Still, she was sure after he got used to things he'd feel safer being honest with them.
“Well, that's a good start,” she claimed. Now that she thought about it, it did explain the strange expression on his face when he first ate it. He likely wasn't used to food that actually had taste.
“So, um, is- is there anything I can do to help right now?” Tundra asked, looking at Hanzo with a worried expression. It seemed Hanzo's outburst had really spooked him. Harumi would have to try and remember to find a solution to that problem.
“No, not really. Why don't you go have a look around the house and get used to where everything is?” She suggested, watching as Tundra nodded and started to walk off.
When he was out of the room, she turned to Hanzo who looked at her quietly before saying “I think I understand why you were so worried for him now.”
Harumi sighed. This was going to be a challenge.
#mortal kombat#subscorpharumi#kuai liang#sub zero#hanzo hasashi#scorpion#harumi hasashi#🩷mortal kombat oneshots
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