#i am butchering this poor girl's language

[j0kers-light]

imagine j with a southern bunny! i'm from mississippi and i don't think i sound super southern but i must be because most people down here think i have thick accent 🤣 i think j would either love or hate a southern accent 😂

Hey hi my sweet anon!! 🖤✨

This is the part where I repp the south! TN & GA! LET'S GO SOUTHERN GIRLS!!! 😤

I'm constantly concealing my southern accent at work and I hardly recognize I have one until a friend from the west coast calls me out on it. Y'all just don't know.. I be sounding a hot mess so don't feel discouraged anon! This is for all my southern girls! Yee to the flipping haw.

I think its only fair to separate the two scenarios of him loving or hating your accent. I hope you enjoy love! 🖤✨

Poor Joker. Oftentimes, he doesn't understand what you're saying and finds himself staring at you perplexed.

You would think thick accents wouldn't be an issue for him (after dealing with his crazy ex girlfriend...) but he asks you to repeat yourself multiple times a day much to your annoyance.

Don't get him wrong! He adores his Bunny!!! He just can't quite understand how you shorten some words and exaggerate others. (Ring any bells Joker? 🙄)

Perhaps that's why he hates it so much because its so similar to his own unique speech pattern. He denies that it’s the same.

And don't get him started with how slow you speak as if you have all the time in the world.

Joker is used to the fast jargon of Gotham City (our modern day NY) so he expects quick conversations or at least ones that he can fully comprehend. He feels like he loses IQ points hearing you talk.

Whenever you say things like "over yonder" or "whatchamacallit" he rolls his eyes and demands you speak plainly or not at all. "I am Joker. Quit calling my kettle black and gone get."

What does it even mean?! You and your southern sayings are driving him insane(r)!

He thought you were faking the whole accent thing until you went to visit family and he tagged along.

You have been speaking plainly to Joker because your relatives are practically speaking a different language compared to you.

He wants to turn himself in at Arkham if he has to listen to this southern drawl any longer. It is grating his nerves.

It gets worse the longer you stay home. You forgo all proper grammar and anything goes.

Joker can't stand how you sound so proper while simultaneously butchering the English language. He is happy to drop off his Bunny and get out of dodge.

Although he does miss you after a few days and calls you up asking what your plans are for the day and... well.

"I'm fixin' to go round yonder with Boost n' em then we finna cut up until Ma calls for us or till them Katydids start singin. Just a whole bunch a nuthing. You?"

Where does he begin to translate? His head hurts just thinking about trying. "Nothing Bunny. Just forget it."

He instead came up to the house (wearing his face mask of course) to see you. Your parents swarm him wanting to meet the man who stole their baby's heart although it was obvious they don’t approve of J.

Joker didn't mind his manners and his disgust for your inherited accent was visible the entire time.

You smiled and acted as the neutral party between the opposing sides until the sun started to set and Joker decided to leave.

You and your Mom stood on the veranda, watching Joker drive off. Mom waited until he was out of earshot to give her two cents. "Baby, that boy's cornbread ain't done in the middle, ain't it?"

You spat out your sweet tea. WAS IT THAT OBVIOUS?!

Now! Let's discuss Joker loving your southern accent!

From the moment he heard that alluring southern twang spill from your lips, he’s down bad.

You're every bit the iconic southern belle found in movies. Flirtatious by default and ever the tease, you are perfection to him; like a breath of fresh air.

Joker practically drools knowing that's how you were raised yet you keep that side of yourself a secret in order to blend in up north.

He rarely hears your accent because you go above and beyond to sound like citizens of Gotham City.

Your southern twang only slips through the cracks when you're angry, emotional, stressed, etc.

Joker tries his best to bring it out of you because he’s a shameless simp. Your voice is just too hypnotizing to hide!

Your accent kinda reminds him of his own speech pattern with how you pronounce certain vowels or syllables and speak slowly in order for the audience to appreciate every word or double meanings.

It’s an artform that he admires greatly and he loves when you read to him at night.

Or when he comes home all banged up and he catches your feminine gasp. Your “bless your heart baby! C’mere, I’ll fix ya up.” makes him feel so much better. 😍

Yet there are times in which you catch him by surprise with your flourish of words.

It was his idea to take his Bunny out hiking in the outskirts of Gotham. You grew up in the country and at times, the big city felt stifling.

Joker thought some nature would be good for your mood. He didn’t foresee becoming lost.

When he passed the same grove of flowers for the third time, you groaned in frustration. “Just admit it, J! We’re turned every which way but loose!”

He froze hearing your southern accent make a rare cameo. The power you had over him…

He was happy to hear it, but now was not the time to be smiling. “Uh come again Bunny?”

You stomped in your hiking boots and furiously began fanning yourself. ”There you stand in high cotton, and I’m over here sweatin’ like a sinner in church!”

Joker was so confused, yet completely in awe.

Each wild saying has his grin spreading wider and wider and you knew he didn’t hear a word you said; merely just the sound of them.

“J….” You warning him as he slowly advanced forward.

“Keep talking Sugar. You sound soooooo sweet.”

You rolled your eyes as Joker backed you into a tree and took hold of your hips.

“You hard a hearing is you?” You sigh with each distracting kiss Joker left on your neck, “J.. stop. I smell rain coming. We need to head on back.”

“You can… smell rain?” He asked.

“You can’t?”

[kattythingz]

Ed has adopted those children, they are his now, you can fight him about it.

Poor Ling, he woke up alone and panicked and his lovely fiance's only reaction was to make fun of him, he should have known though. I love how everything is fluffy and sweet and Ling's angst is just waiting below the surface with his frantic searching and his new clothes that remind him of Ed and his smiling mask, don't worry dear, Ed is here and it would take more than what CADMUS can afford to to separate you again (they'll probably try tho)

M'gann my baby, dear girl offering to cater to other people's needs because her name is 'too difficult to pronounce' (there's a metaphor there, something about people shortening their names because it's easier, about me smiling when everyone mispronounced my last name even though its native and Spanish is a phonetic language)

I was not ready to have feels this early, Kat, this is your fault. (I love this AU so much!!!!!!!! 💜💜💜💜💜)

AAAAAAAAAAH THANK YOU FOR THIS COMMENT. I have had back-to-back appointments for work and I feel just about half-dead, but this has revived me.

I'm so glad you caught the greater angst of Ling's panic. It was Funny™ in M'gann's pov, but a switch to Ling's pov would show that he was genuinely terrified he'd dreamed Ed, or that something had happened to him. This would definitely be elaborated on, if I ever get to rewriting episodes. no promises AND M'GANN, YES. I rewatched the episode to make sure if she didn't just prefer Megan, but, no, she says "It's an Earth name, and I'm on Earth now." Which is so??? Honey, no, you deserve to have your proper name used!!! As someone whose name is also regularly butchered by people too, I am DEFENDING my girl on this.

Ling, particularly, would understand M'gann's struggle I think, cuz his name is Xingese, so it must've been butchered by Amestrians too! I like to think Ed has made great efforts on his own part to get Ling's name pronunciation right, even if it's just adjusting a vowel. He's learning Xingese for when he eventually settles down in Xing too, so he takes getting foreign pronunciations right very seriously now.

[karizard-ao3]

October is mostly known in the English speaking world for Halloween. But in a few days, German speaking countries will indulge in the time honored festivity of Oktoberfest! The largest of one happens in Munich, since it’s a Bavarian tradition, and now everyone all party a lot for days on straight. I was just brainrotting about Eren and Mikasa meeting in the middle of Oktoberfest, all dressed in typical attire, beer in hand. Eldian culture is heavily influenced by Germany’s. In the Oktoberfest, everyone wears traditional Bavarian clothing. Guys wear the lederhosen, and girls wear the dirndl! Actually, girls tie their dirndl dresses according to whether they are single, married, or a widow. (https://www.oktoberfestusa.com/meaning-behind-which-side-to-tie-the-dirndl-on/ this is the only concise article in English I found about it). So right when when Eren sees Mikasa, he’ll know she’s available hahaha

For additional fun, if you want, Munich’s Oktoberfest at least is one of Europe’s most waited for events, people from all around the world come for it. Add to it that Bavarians speak in an accent so strong it sounds like gibberish even to native German speakers. When this happens, Germans then speak to each other in a standard “high German”, but if you’re a foreigner meeting a Bavarian usually means you’re fucked and have to switch to English. So imagine, half-Hizuran, half-Eldian Mikasa who’s taken a lot of classes to speak the very difficult Eldian/German language fluently, coming to Paradis with her friends for Oktoberfest, all happy in their dirndls, beer in hand. When she meets local Eren, who’s been most likely dragged to the party and forced by Armin or his parents to wear a lederhosen. And he speaks in a very thick shiganshinan accent hahahah

poor Mikasa. She's trying so hard to understand him and he's really trying to speak clearly for her but they just can't get over the communication barrier 😂 Does she even speak English (or its equivalent, in this case), or are her options just Eldian and Hizuran? Imagine Sasha needs to translate for them and she is butchering the conversation because she's so distracted by the beer and sausages (? Americans like to do their own little Oktoberfests and there are sometimes Oktoberfest episodes in TV shows, but I don't know how accurate our versions are. Plus I've never been to one).

Is high German different from regular German? I am going to get googling ASAP. This kind of stuff is fascinating.

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

Let me end this sad list of NOT isolated cases but a generell issue the medical system has

with taking womens pain serious

taking childrens pain serious

taking parenst concerns, especially mothers concerns serious ...

Let me end this sad list with another name

Gricelda Zamora

Gricelda Zamora, was a 13-year-old Latina who died of appendicitis in the Good Samaritan ER after being airlifted from Mesa Lutheran in the spring of 1999.

According to the malpractice lawsuit filed by the girl's family, Gricelda's parents took her to Mesa Lutheran ER on March 16, 1999, with stomach pains. Hospital staff didn't speak Spanish, and Gricelda, who spoke English, was too ill to deal with them.

She was given a pregnancy test and an X-ray, diagnosed with gastritis and sent home with instructions to schedule a doctor's appointment within three days.

The Zamoras didn't have a family doctor, but her condition worsened, so they took her on March 18 to the Mesa doctor recommended by the hospital.

For disputed reasons, Dr. Stuart Agren's office did not treat the girl. The family claims she was turned down because the doctor's office could not confirm that the family had insurance. The Zamoras had to use a 14-year-old bilingual family friend to explain Gricelda's condition and the family's insurance policy to Agren's office. Agren claims that his office offered to treat her, and the Board of Medical Examiners has cleared him of wrongdoing. He could not be reached for comment.

Now this case angers me even more then the others becasue it is ususally told like this:

Poor uwu little doctors did nothing wrong

This is no ones fault

Though if it is anyones fault it is clearly the fact that the parenst only spoke spanish

So that is teh issue here

But doctors did NOTHING wrong, no Sir

They gave very clear instructions and only becasue the parenst didn't understand them something bad happened

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Now ... I didn't know that lab results speak spanish ...

Or results of other examinations ... wow ...

Poor medical personall coudn't do their fucing job competently becasue the bloodwork spoke a foreign language ...

Look, what happend was that the medical staff fuckt up kept on fucking up, insisted on keeping up their generall incompetece til the very end and over all where more interested in paper work then actualyl helping a dying little girl

(you get to decide if the isue was that she was a girl or that she wasn't white or both)

And then Gricelda Zamora died a completely 100% preventable death.

I am happy that it resulted in trained, paid, full-time medical interpreters being employed in the ER

That is great

But as our sad list proofs

speaking teh smae language as your doctor, fluently will not safe you in any country

Becasu ethe only language doctors speak is LAWYER

[gnepple]

I love how confused my cat looks whenever I meow back at her.

Like her little cat brain just cannot handle the concept of her human making cat noises.

[damnzawa]

Hi there! I just found your account and I love you writing! I was wondering if you could do a bakugou x reader fantasy au? Where prince bakugou goes to a small village in his kingdom for a pit stop while on a quest but meets the reader who's a poor butcher's daughter that doesn't know who he is and doesn't really care either but really wants to go on a quest and begs him to let her travel with him in exchange for being a chef. Thank you so much!!💞💕💗 ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾┌(★ｏ☆)┘

ANNOYING — B. KATSUKI

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry if this took a long time to be published! I went off tumblr for a while due to personal issues but now I'm back! Hope you like this!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED (for now)

WARNINGS: Language LMAO but its Bakugo so what do we expect. Also this is not beta read!

WORD COUNT: 1955

Not everyday you have the privilage to meet the prince. The heir to the kingdom's throne. The second most respected man in the whole entire kingdom.

And not everyday you get to mistake him as a thief either.

Not that you care about his title, really. You believe that all men are created equal, regardless of their social standings, heirarchy and whatnot. Thus, you didn't really care about the prince and the royal family that much to ever know about them. Not even their faces, nor names.

So, it wasn't a surprise that it will cause you your possible demise.

You see, the day started nice. You went out to do some deliveries, met some nice people on the road who bought half of the meat your father had cut, and to top it all off the farmer was kind enough to give you extra rootcrops as a sign of gratitude to you and your father. It was a great day all in all. Until, the knights came.

Along with the explosive prince.

Murmurs began to start as you headed back to your father's stall in the market after a long day of delivery work. Even though you didn't mean to eavesdrop — it was kind of hard not to, considering how their volumes were — you caught the words: arrogant, self-centered, short-tempered. And later you found out those words described the prince.

"He must be a nincompoop then. To get such a reputation from the people in town, he must have done some... questionable things." You said to yourself. Too engrosed in your thoughts, you bumped into a red-headed knight. You bowed immediately while apologizing then excused yourself, you didn't really want to interact with knights today. All you wanted to do was cook a hearty meal for your stubborn father, read a book by the fireplace after a bath, and relax.

But all those plans seem to be quickly washed away when you saw an ash blond quietly steal from your father. You were gonna let it slide, thinking that maybe it was for a good cause.

That is until you realized, the man stole a prime cut.

As if a switch was flicked, you quickly ran towards the direction the man headed to. Spotting him from afar, you ran as fast as you can and knocked the man into the ground, shocking the people around you.

"Give it back." You sternly commanded the man. "Give back the meat you stole from my father."

The man scoffed at your 'accusations' and tried to wiggle his way free but your entire weight placed on top of his back made it hard to do so. "Let me fucking go. I have no idea what the actual fuck you are accusing me of."

"Oh shut it. I saw you with my own two eyes and I am very much sure that their vision is not impaired yet." His futile attempts at escaping now stopped as he tilted his head to see the scoundrel who had the audacity to knock him down and embarrass him infront of townspeople.

Of course it had to be a girl.

"Are you one of my admirers to go such lengths as accusing me of stealing from a commoner?" That comment made your eye twitch because first, you are certainly not an admirer of this prick. Two, you don't even know the guy! Three, who would admire this piece of work? And lastly, your father might be a 'commoner' but he's the best 'commoner' you could ever find! There wouldn't be a slab of ribs or a fine piece of steak on your plates if it weren't for him! And the way this asshole said 'commoner' with such distaste too! What a prick! Who the hell does he think he is?

"My prince!" The same red-headed knight you bumped into earlier shouted from afar. Your eyes widened for a second before turning back to the asshole beneath you who now has a smug grin on his face.

"Miss! Are you alright?" The knight asked while helping you get up. "Did the prince cause you any disturbances? Any problems?" It was your turn to plaster on a smug grin on your face. You saw his own falter which you made you more smug than before.

"Why yes actually, the prince caused me a slight inconvenience." The red-head sighed, taking a quick glance at the prince beside him — who couldn't stand due to pain. "The prince stole a priceless little thing from my father's stall earlier and I'd like for him to return it or better yet, pay for it." The prince was about to retort but the red-head beat him to it.

"I deeply apologize for the prince's action, miss. If it would make you happy and satisfied, I will pay for the items he stole. I will also ask for forgiveness on his behalf." Angry noises came from the prince's (beast) mouth as the red-headed knight did exactly what he told making you raise an eyebrow.

"Why are you doing it for him? Can't he do it himself?" It was amazing to see a knight easily convinced to do something a mere 'commoner' like you demanded, but you concluded that this red-headed fellow wasn't an ordinary knight. He seemed like the type that's fed up with the prince's antics, thus his demeanor towards people is filled with empathy and the usual knightly courage. But your words made him halt, and look at you as if you were from some otherworldly land.

You caught the knight mutter about something manly before the prince interrupted. "Hah?! I'm not gonna apologize to someone lower than me! You extra!" The knight sweat-dropped at the prince's words while you looked at him blankly. Wow, the rumors are true, he is an asshole.

"Well, Your Highness, this extra happened to be the one who cared for the rib who used to be a part of the cow that you stole just now. So, apologize and pay up. I don't care if you're the prince or not. Thievery is a crime, and you just committed it." The crowd begin to whisper, making the prince's eye twitch.

"Fine, you annoying extra! Give her whatever the fuck she wants!" And with that the prince stormed off. Leaving you and the red-haired knight behind. The crowd began to disperse, seeing as the scene just concluded and that the man of the hour was gone.

The knight turned to you once again and bowed. "I'm deeply sorry for my prince's actions. As he caused such an inconvenience and refuses to be accountable for his actions, I shall ensure to provide whatever compensation you need or want — within reason of course." Before you can respond, he introduces himself with a grin. "Ah! How silly of me! Chivalric knight, Kirishima Eijirou at your service."

"I appreciate your efforts, Sir Kirishima, but I just need the payment for the stolen goods." You replied with a smile, but soon your smile faltered. You had wanted to be a chef for so long and travel unknown lands to discover cuisine and cooking techniques you've never heard of before. Perhaps... is this the right time to do it?

You bit your lip as you contemplated. Should you grab this opportunity and run with it?

Seeing your hesitancy, Kirishima waited for your answer. "Actually... I have a request... I was wondering if it's possible?"

"I'm all ears, Miss."

...

"What is this extra doing here?!" Prince Bakugo exclaimed as he saw your annoying little face within his traveling party. Kirishima sighed as he explained the situation. You would join his party as a chef until you reach the capital where you will be training to be a chef under the great Lunch Rush. Bakugo was about to object when Kirishima shot him a look.

"Fine. But I'm not eating garbage cooked by a commoner!" You rolled your eyes at his demeanor. Are all royals like this?

As if reading your mind, Kirishima responds. "Don't worry. King Masaru and Queen Mitsuki are quite modest and kind."

"Then what happened to him?" You pointed to Bakugo.

"I heard that, you extra!" Fowl language followed that statement making the traveling party sigh. Oh boy, this is gonna be a painful journey.

After that, you said your goodbyes to your father, who was very emotional about the turn of events. "Be good and be brave, my sweet child. And ask for forgiveness from His Highness." Your brows were scrunched in confusion.

"Why must I do that? He was clearly in the wrong!"

"Ah... that slab of meat was a present from me to him. He once helped me round up the cows when his traveling party went by our house yesterday. The slab of priceless meat was a token of appreciation for his kind gesture. So, do apologize for your actions, ok?" The information you just heard astounded you, making you speechless. Guilt pooled in your stomach as you promised your father that you will apologize to the prince. And with a final promise of coming home as a renowned chef, you parted ways.

The journey started rough. The prince refused to eat anything you made at all. His stubbornness knows no bounds and his overall demeanor towards you was not pleasant, which you understood as the scene you caused was a total misunderstanding on your part. The only upside was the traveling party greatly enjoyed your meals, and some even gave you recipes from different places and suggestions of destinations that you'll surely enjoy to explore! Overall, it went smoothly.

That is, until the prince became sick.

The doctors in your traveling party asked you to concoct different meals suited to His Highness, You had to stop at a village in order to ensure Prince Bakugo's speedy recovery. And one day, you were assigned to deliver his meals to him personally.

"Prince Bakugo?" You knocked on the door, and as expected, not a response came from the prince. You sighed and slowly opened the door, cautiously stepping in so you won't wake Bakugo up or spill the contents of the bowl you held.

"Go away, you extra." He grumbled, but his rough voice was replaced with a weak ome due to his illness.

"Look, I know you won't eat my meals but you need to eat. You can't recover from this if your body doesn't have the nutrients it needs to fight back this illness." You huffed. "And... besides, consider this as my way of making up to you."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"My father told me about it. I'm sorry for mistaking you for a thief. I tried to apologize to you on several occasions but you angrily push me away every time I do. So, I figured this might be the right timing since you know... you aren't your usual aggressive self." You scratched your nape in embarrassment. "Besides, if there's something I learned while traveling with you is that you're a big softie inside. You might act rough and is shard on the edges, you're actually kind-hearted and caring. Uh... anyways. Please make sure to eat your meal, Prince Bakugo."

Before you can exit the room, you heard him say, "Annoying extra." But the usual hostility behind those words wasn't there. You might just be assuming it or imagining it, but those words almost sounded... fond.

With a shake of your head, you left the room.

Later that day, you found the bowl to be empty and outside of his room. Along with it was a note that read, "Don't fucking tell me what to do, you annoying extra."

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Dad!Mob!Tom Holland x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x reader, Parker Holland x Charlotte Owens

-Warnings: Language, Blood, Death, Fighting

-Words: 3.6K

Author note: I really love this chapter. I love all the comments and would appreciate nice constructive criticism (please don't butcher my work lol) if you want. Feel free to leave in the comments or message me directly your feelings while reading the chapter :))

Chapter 3: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Word: 3.6K

“Haz are you okay mate?” Tom asked, seeing Haz freak out, they were about to land at Heathrow, on their way back from Dublin.

“No, I just heard from my neighbor that Henry never came home last night. With everything that happened yesterday, I’m just worried. I hope he is not lying in a ditch somewhere.” Harrison explained.

“He probably crashed at ours, everything will be ok.” You said as you comforted Haz. Oh boy, were you wrong.

Back at home, Parker awoke to his impending death once you and Tom, his parents’, find out what happened to their beautiful mansion. One party did all this damage. The curtains were torn down, there was red party cups everywhere and all the liquor bottles were displayed on the table. One amazingly epic party did all that.

“Bloody hell! That’s it I’m dead. I’m dead. I will never be allowed to leave this house ever again.” Parker said to himself. Picking up his phone he noticed 4 missed calls from you. Each one had a message and if there was one thing he knew about you is that you only left more harsh and frantic voice messages the more you called.

He only played the most recent one, you sounded really peeved “PARKER JACKSON HOLLAND! Please call me, I’m worried about you. I can’t get in touch with the staff either. I will be home in 20 mins, you better have a good fucking explanation for everything.” Parker’s eyes nearly flew out of his head when he saw that was sent 15 mins ago. Any moment now he would hear the Rolls pulling into the driveway.

The poor kid could only move so fast, he quickly gathered the liquor bottles and threw them into a plastic trash bag along with all the red solo cups that seem to be multiplying. All the meanwhile corralling all the squatters, from last night, who crashed there. He found some people by the pool and others passed out in the dining room. Running like a madman through the house, he caught a glimpse of what would be the reason for his demise. The door to Tom’s office was open. He swore to god he locked it, someone must’ve broken in. They could’ve taken anything, all the information about the mob was stored in that one tastefully decorated room. Parker quickly shut the door and hoped nothing would happen, he couldn’t live with himself if this one stupid party cost his family their livelihood.

“Rosie? Henry? Where are you guys? Mum and dad will be home any minute, I need your help.” Parker called out throughout the house. He didn’t expect Rosie to show up because of their fight last night, but where the fuck was Henry.

You and Tom pulled up along with Harrison in the black Rolls Royce, coming to a screeching halt. You all walked along the cobble stone path to the two large, intimidating front doors. You all simultaneously freaked out when you saw the door was ajar. Tom and Haz pulled out their guns and made it a priority to keep you safe by shoving you behind them. You all had no idea what you could be walking into.

Tom whispered to Haz to split up, Haz took the East Wing while Tom checked the main rooms. Rounding the corner he could her footsteps.

“Darling, stay behind me. I don’t want you getting hurt,” Tom whispered and you nodded in response.

“On the count of 3. 1, 2, 3,” Tom screamed as he jumped out, holding his gun straight ahead. He found his son disheveled, carrying grocery bags filled with empty beer cans and liquor bottles.

“DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT! Holy fuck! Dad is that you?” Parker screamed, dropping the bags to the ground, glass shattering and raising his hand up in innocence. Scared for his life her quickly caught his breath when he realized who it was.

“Parker, what the hell? Why the fuck was the door opened…. wait? Did you have a party!?!” Tom thundered as he realized what his son did. His voice gradually growing more furious. Parker just stood there with a shameful look on his face.

“Mum, dad. How was Dublin?” Parker sneaked to quickly change the subject.

“Don’t try to get out this, explain now!” You scolded, just as furious as Tom

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did it, I just needed to blow off steam.” “What the fuck do you think a sorry is going to do? I run a fucking mob, Parker. Are you a fucking idiot? Parker, for fucks sake, anyone could have stolen some information from my office or gotten into the gun room. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I’m not that much of a div, I locked your office and I don’t know,” Parker explained.

“You’re not as dumb as I thought. Hope you were smart enough to lock the liquor cellar too,” Tom concluded.

“Yeah…about that,” Parker mumbled as Tom ran off to his liquor room. A loud clash and curse sounded throughout the house when he laid his eyes on his ransacked priceless collection.

“Mum, say something?” Parker pleaded with you as you just stood there in silence.

“2 months. You’re grounded for 2 months. No dates or parties, just school and home. I don’t think you understand how lucky you are that nothing serious happened here.” You said, your voice drenched with disappointment. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking about what dad and you asked me and —” Parker whispered as he was soon cut off by Haz walking in.

“Did you find Henry?” Haz interrupted.

“No, I’m going to check upstairs. Will you check on Tom?” Harrison nodded as you ascended the staircase. Making your way through the halls, coming upon Rosie’s room.

“Roo, honey you awake?” You said walking into Rosie’s room

“AHHHH! Oh my fucking god! Rosie!” You screamed at the sight in front of you. Your sweet, slightly bad tempered daughter asleep with a boy in her bed.

“Darling? You alright?” Tom yelled from downstairs after hearing your scream.

“Mum, what are you doing here?” Rosie exclaimed frantically.

“Hi, Y/N.” Henry whispered, praying he wasn’t going to be berated. You were a mother figure to him after his own mother left his father and never looked back. “This is my house and hi Henry. What the fuck is Henry doing here in you bed? What the fuck are you doing here?” You questioned bouncing between the two of them to get some answers.

“I can explain. But, firstly are you gonna tell dad?” Rosie inquired.

“The fact that he is already fuming downstairs, no. Not right now. And please explain, you have 5 seconds, but first you need to get Henry out of here.”

“Thank you mom, I just don’t —.“

“Ehh, eh, eh! Shut it, I’ll deal with you later,” you barked.

“Henry, I suggest you take the window and your dad is looking for you,” you said.

“Shit! Thanks Y/N… I mean Mrs. Holland” Henry said as you shot him a glare.

The moment Henry was in the clear, Tom barged in with his gun in hand. Someone needs to tell this man to put it down. All morning he has been traumatically scarring his kids for life, first with Parker and now Rosie.

“What? Is everyone all right? I heard a scream.” Tom exclaimed out of breath.

“Umm, yeah. I just saw a spider.” You stuttered.

“Oh love, you can kill a man in cold blood but can’t handle an itty bitty spider,” Tom joked as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“You're afraid of them too, Thomas.” You quipped with a side eye. If looks could kill, yours definitely would.

“And for you missy, you’re grounded along with your brother.” Tom said, looking down on Rosie. “Me? What did I do?” Rosie asked in a high pitched voice. “You attended this party correct? And since this is also your house, you threw it by association. Am I right?” Tom inquired.

“I guess so,” Rosie huffed.

The twin’s exile was worse than they prepared for. Not only were they responsible for cleaning up the entire mess but they were given a list of chores to complete. This was no ordinary list. It was devised by you and Tom along with inputs from the maids and capos.

On it read:

Wash the Rolls

Clean the guns

Reorganize the pantry

Mow the lawn

Re-order all stolen liquor and stock the liquor room

Drain the pool, clean the pool, fill the pool back up again…

The list was never-ending. Each task more pointless than the next. It went on forever. The household staff was happy for their load was to be lessen for a couple weeks, unlike the kids. Harrison even forced Henry to partake in the chores.

The kids were only a couple days into their quarantine and were already going stir crazy. Parker was having withdrawals from Charlotte, missing her even more. The boy was whipped for her, really smitten. They would talk the night away. Some nights never getting any shut eye as their conversations would prolong hours.

Parker couldn’t believe this was where he was now. One night of unadulterated juvenile fun equated to 2 months of misery. Today was Charlotte’s birthday and he was supposed to take her to the London Eye on a surprise birthday trip, but all his plans were ruined the moment his parents came home and grounded his sorry ass.

“I can’t believe your parents grounded you. Assholes.” Charlotte said over the phone, fuming he couldn’t celebrate with her.

“I can’t go babe. I really wish I could but I’m grounded for life remember.” Parker said, the cold shoulder Tom and you had been giving him was killing him.

“Parker its my birthday. You have to come,” Charlotte pleaded

“There’s no chance in hell I’m allowed to leave.”

“Geez you just threw a party, it’s not like you killed someone,” Charlotte added. He might as well have. If he killed someone he wouldn’t be burdened with this punishment, probably praised instead, carrying on the family tradition.

“Just sneak out. Come on, we are all going to this nightclub downtown. It’s gonna be awesome. And I’m such a good girlfriend, I can’t let you miss it.” Charlotte pleaded.

“Alright, Char you wore me down.”

“I knew it. Pick you up at 11 tonight.”

“Park around the block, I’m going to have to climb out my window. Remember my house is like a fortress.” Parker said. He wasn’t lying.

Meanwhile, Tom was in and out of meetings in his office all day. He received one odd phone call in particular from his dad, Dominic Holland. “Hi dad, how are you” Tom said as he picked up the phone.

“I’m fine son, so how did the talk with Parker go. I’m excited to teach him all my mobster tricks,” Dom exclaimed. “Actually dad, he reacted like I did.”

“Oh well, he will come around just like you did” Dom said encouragingly.

“I don’t know if he will. Anyway it wouldn’t be so bad if he had his own path in life.” Tom murmured trying to stick up for his son’s decision.

“Tom, you know what will happen to this family if that happens,” Dom yelled.

“I know dad. I just don’t want him to feel trapped, like you did to me,” Tom exclaimed growing more annoyed by the minute.

“What I did to you got you to where you are today. Your life is thanks to me son and don’t you forget it,” Dom said with a stern, menacing voice.

“Understood sir,” Tom quipped. “Maybe Parker needs a push, in the right direction.” “Dad, I swear to god, don’t fucking do anything. Y/N and I are handling this” Tom yelled. “We’ll see how that turns out” Dom ended the phone call. Leaving Tom frustrated that his father sees him as his own puppet.

The night soon fell and Parker’s plan had been put into motion. He bribed a few of the Tom’s men with his allowance to let him sneak past. He jumped out the window, carefully walked on the roof as to not slip and make any noise. Finally on the ground, he scaled the iron fence to be met with Charlotte’s ice blue eyes. She was dressed in a pink party dress that hugged her figure perfectly.

“Wow princess, you look *chef’s kiss. Happy birthday baby,” Parker said while making his way back to the ground.

“Thanks doll. Now come on, before someone catches us,” she yelled whilst hopping into her silver Mercedes.

Arriving at the nightclub, everything was in full swing for 11 o’clock at night. Parker, Charlotte and her other friends were treated like royalty the moment Parker let his name slip.

“Right this way Mr. Holland and I will have someone bring you a bottle of champagne, on the house of course,” the hostess said as she sat them at their table.

“Oooo fancy, you should drop your name more often,” Charlotte whispered in Parker’s ear.

“Oh it was nothing, love.” Parker said while pouring himself and Charlotte a glass of bubbly. “Seriously Parker, how’d you do this? If I didn’t know any better I’d say your dad owned the club or something,” Charlotte said dumbfounded, causing Parker to choke on his champagne at her remark.

It was amazing what power could do. Having enough power to make your enemies disappear was unimaginable. Parker knew what turning down his father meant. He would have the name and the look of a Holland, but he wouldn’t be one anymore.

How could he give all that up. He enjoyed his cushy lifestyle. Sure it was day after day of worrying about your image but, he felt as though he belonged in that world. How could he go on being a kid for two more years knowing there was a metaphorical expiration date on his life.

He desperately wanted to want to be like them, his family. You, his mother, are the strongest person he knows. Having you in his life keeps him grounded, literally at the moment. Also his dad, Tom is a very loving and amazing father. He was there at all the football games (English football) cheering him on and at the spelling bees, also when he felt his first heartbreak, Tom was there.

Family has been the one constant in his life. Now it was being eclipsed by power, a power that could ruin lives or affect change. Turning his back on his family means they would never get see his future.

No one would be there at his graduation from college or when he first child was born, only Charlotte would be there. The girl he hoped to marry and have his kids. He couldn’t give up his future with her, no way. Parker eyes glanced at her, mesmerized by her beauty. He thought to himself, “This was it. This, she is all I’ll ever need, my princess.”

Most of Parker’s pet names for Charlotte were derived from Tom. He had heard his dad refer to his mother as: princess, queen, doll, darling, love. The list goes on. As long as Parker had his princess he knew he would be ok.

They danced the night away. Song after song. Feeling like the only two people in the room. Getting more drunk as the night progressed and other guests started to fizzle out. Leaving Charlotte and Parker alone on the dance floor.

“Char, I think it’s about time we head home. We are the only people left,”

Parker chuckled.

“Just two more songs please,” she muttered with her head nuzzled by his neck.

“It’s two hours til sunrise!” Parker exclaimed.

“Just a little while longer, I don’t want this moment to end.” “Me neither baby, I want to stay in your arms forever” Parker said. In a moment of love, coupled with champagne and a few tequila shots, Parker whispered, “We should get married.”

“What? Are you serious? Do you mean now or in like 5 years?” Charlotte asked as her voice slowly diminished

“Umm… yes and now. I love you,” Parker murmured. “YES! I will marry you!” Charlotte exclaimed pulling her boyfriend into a deep, passionate kiss. Parker’s dream was coming true and all he had to do was leave his family.

Just then a group of tall, stocky men, all dressed in black, funneled through the door of the club. They didn’t bother with sitting down, they just stood there blocking the only exit.

One of the men spoke up, “Parker Holland? I have a message for you.”

“Can’t it wait til morning, just tell him I’m sorry and he can ground me even longer,” Parker replied thinking the message was from Tom.

“It’s not that kind of message,” all the noise drifted away as the other man drew his gun. Both Charlotte and Parker grew tense at the sight of his pistol.

“Charlotte, get behind me,” Parker whispered, scared for both their lives.

“Boy, it’s not from your daddy,” said the leader of the men. “Do you know who my father is? He will have all of your heads if you so as much lay a finger on me,” Parker responded

“So the girl is up for grabs?” “Charlotte, RUN!” Parker Screamed

“Eh, not so fast. I’m going to enjoy this one.” The guy said, seizing Charlotte in his grip and motioning for this associates to grab Parker. Two arms holding Parker back from protecting Charlotte.

“LET GO OF ME! CHARLOTTE!”

“Why you hanging out this rift raft? I’m sorry but he needs to atone for his mistakes.” “Parker..” Charlotte whimpered.

“Such a pretty girl and such a waste” the man snickered as he pressed the gun into her abdomen. Tears slipped down her face as she felt the cool metal against her.

BANG

It was the shot heard round the room. Everything stood quiet as Charlotte collapsed to the floor. The leader of the men shouted he need a drink. “NOOOOO! ” Parker screamed as he was let go and raced to Charlotte’s side

“Hey, hey, baby look at me. Look at me,” Parker said as tears flooded down his face.

“I’m sorry, we should’ve left.” Charlotte whispered with labored breaths while blood poured out of her wound. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Parker cried while rubbing his thumb on her cheek. Blood pooled around them and he could only be focused on one thing, the love of his life dying in his arms. “Parker, it hurts so much,” Charlotte cried. The pain was mind-numbing. Threatening the life inside her.

“I know, love. Just keep your eyes on me love, keep’em open”

“I’m so tired Parker… I want my last words to you to be I love you. I love you ok? So much.” she whispered, then broke into a coughing fit. Blood filling her mouth and running down her chin, scaring Parker.

“Don’t, don’t fucking start that now you, hear me. You’re gonna be fine, we’re gonna get married and have kids and grow old together,” Parker exclaimed as her eyes threatened to shut.

“You said yes, Char. You have to be okay. You said yes. I asked you to marry me and you said yes.” Parker cried as tears refused to stop coming. Charlotte’s eyes growing more and more to a close.

“Please, don’t leave me baby. Charlotte don’t leave me. Don’t fucking close your eyes. You hear me. Don’t.” And with that, the hand Parker held so close to his heart was limp. Her eyes had closed and heart stopped beating. She was gone.

“No! No, no no, hey hey hey, come on, come on baby stay with me. Stay with me please.”

“Wake up, darling. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just come back to me baby. , I need you,” Parker whimpered. He burst into a fit of sobs and hugged her close to his body, not wanting to let her go because then it all became real.

The woman who changed his life, no longer walked this earth. The love of his life was gone. All the bubbling life inside of her, vanished like it had never existed in the first place. Parker’s demeanor flipped like a switch. His sadness became infused with anger, he was out for blood.

“You bastards! Why did you do that? She had nothing to do with this?” Parker thundered as blood coated his knuckles. “I’m sorry kid, but it had to be done” The leader spoke.

In a fit of rage, Parker grabbed the empty champagne bottle and smashed it over one of the guy’s heads, knocking the muscular guy unconscious.

“Big mistake, kid. Thought you were smarter than that.” The leader said as he stood in front of Parker and delivered him a swift punch to the jaw, flooring Parker.

“She really wasn’t enough of a message? Want her death to be in vain?” He spat as he kicked Parker in the stomach.

Several kicks followed, two more to the stomach, one to the groin and one final blow to the head, demobilizing Parker. He laid on the ground coughing up blood, trying to gather enough strength to get home.

He looked once more over to the girl he had loved, lifeless with a whole in stomach, knowing if it weren’t for him she would still be alive. Charlotte was the only thing on his mind as he succumbed to all the pain and everything faded to darkness.

Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

[newsies-and-the-nutcracker]

Newsies but it’s French (Canadian) pt.2

(aka me just getting increasingly frustrated the longer it goes on until I’ve completely lost whatever bits of sanity I had left lol)

~ king of new york scene ~

“We’re in the papes??” “You’re in the papes.” why do I find this so funny help-

“For the good of Jack, we can stop complaining...” not the whole thing but that sounds so out of character for Race I can’t-

After a quick google search, I can confirm that Race says “The world is at our boots.”

The newsies are very confused

Apparently he was meant to say feet.

“I’m talking about our feet!”

…

hOW IN THE WORLD IS THAT EVEN CLOSE TO ‘THE WOILD IS YA ERSTER’-

Okay I’m done

“My own face on a piece of wood!” good for you ig

“I’m respectful. I’m looking at you.” please-

“I am pretty, am I not?” yes race you’re very pretty

“My own bed and an indoor toilet!” wait… does that mean you literally have a toilet outside?? In the open???

“Nothing more normal for a famous journalist!” Irdk how I’m supposed to process this-

“Leave, idiot! It’s her, the king of New York!” guys is this actually what he says in English?? Race why are you so m e a n

“Some…” *checks notes* “depressive defeatists” ?? I just want to know how you got that from “Buncha wet noodles”-

“We were on the verge of drowning ourselves in alcohol.” WHY AM I ONLY NOW FIGURING OUT WHAT SOME OF THESE LINES MEAN AS I’M WATCHING IT IN F R E N C H ???

They cut out a lot of the background comments during the dance break and now I’m sad

After Katherine’s little dance: “It’s a joke, I hope.” wow

“You’ll see what the Delancey’s do in their pants!” that sounds so wrong I-

“Friends can leave, let them be!” I don’t think that’s what they were trying to say but okay

~ letter from the refuge scene ~

“There’s guards here, they’re mean.” WOW JUST TEAR MY HEART OUT WHY DONTCHA-

“If they tell us to jump, we obey, if not we’re screwed.” ow

“The rooftop misses me.” I give up.

“It’ll go. I’m in shape.”

“End.” the only time they decide not the put ‘the’ unnecessarily in front of something-

“Good, that’s enough.” how rude

yeah that’s all for that song. I hope you guys weren’t actually expecting me to find much humour in that one

~ watch what happens reprise scene ~

“You are a love.” ??

Guys where I live if you say “tant mieux pour vous.” it means “Too bad for you” and that’s literally what Jack just told Davey-

“Stop. I understand. It’s useless.” eh close enough

“Good blood, where do you have to go to avoid you guys?”

“It’s impossible. We are inevitable.” since when did Davey actually become Thanos?

“And this here girl, Sally, she’s great.” :(

“We say that you wrote a good article.” “You seem horrible.” they’re much more salty in this version-

“Yes, it’s true. And, he is dead.” uhh guess who’s not going to Santa Fe-

“We can forget that and go back to work?” the person who wrote this had a real passion for butchering Les’ lines lol

“Be positive. No one is dead.” mmmmmmmmmmm-

“Is that what you’re hoping for??” MMMMMMMMMMMMMM-

“There’s no question of cents, Jack!” yk what? sure. i don’t even care at this point-

“We’ll do what?” he sounds like he doesn’t even want to win.

“We’re already winning.” “Agreed.” ABORT ABORT THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO S A Y JACK-

“And ‘voila’ why I think that Joe is an idiot. It’s a rattlesnake.” “... Yes.” you heard it right here, guys. if it’s a rattlesnek, it’s an idiot

“And you know why a snake whistles?” WHAT

“He is scared.”

“Go see, the poor of the head that’s spinning.” This is shredding whatever bits of sanity I had left-

“Why send the brutes?” idk why Davey

“You have maybe reason!” “Thank you!”

“And I have an appointment!”

no but when you say you have a ‘rendez-vous’ here where I live, it means you have like a doctors appointment or something lol

~ the bottom line reprise scene ~

“After his release, I surprised him myself!”

“If that’s the case, we’re going to bring him in... in softness.” nice of them

“... or the little thief?” I’m really starting to think that they lack like 99% of words in the French language-

“I was fighting in a war.” “And that turned out well for you?” get wrecked joe

“Rally as much as you want, no journal in town will talk about it.” guys I don’t have enough serotonin for this-

“Everyone here knows you’re horrible!” they made Jack sound like a little kid in the translation, and honestly I’m not even disappointed lol

“We’re missing time, little.” I don’t even know what to say-

“Your abject surrender was always the bottom of the problem.” sure why not

“Gentlemen, escort our guest to the cave-” well isn’t he nice?

“Be happy you’re alive, little. That’s the essential.”

“Yeah, so go!” ?? how is that even remotely close to “Yeah, so behave!” ??????

“I exercised my favourite American punch!” uhhhh good for you?

“You can sleep here, on this old press! It’s very firm.” help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up-

~ brooklyn’s here scene ~

“The sellers need our help! The sellers need our help! Tell them that Brooklyn’s arriving! Tell them that Brooklyn’s arriving!”

“We’re from Brooklyn, we’re the sellers from Brooklyn!” UHHHHH EXCUSE ME???

“We just learned that our friends are going wrong!” please you heard they were ‘going wrong’ like five days ago-

“You know we’re there for you, since always.” oH rEaLlY???

“Brooklyn is there!”

“Strikes aren’t nice, but they’re passionate!” well I’m glad you think so

“Let’s shout it, Brooklyn is there!”

“Aaaaand sooooooo!!” “Sooooooooo!!” “Soooooooooo!!!” “We will send you half road, just to Queens!”

“The pigeons are going to get soaked!” aaaaaand we’re back to the pigeons-

“What sad way to finish your career!” they sound so sarcastic I can’t-

“They’re not serious, but if they think we’re laughing…” i feel low-key threatened-

“Let’s shout it!” well if you try hard enough, you can make it sound like “loud and clear!”?

“Manhattan is theeere, Flushing is theeere, “Richmond is theeere, Woodside is theeere, and the Bronx too!!”

“Sorry, little. No news of him.” I just… why does it translate to “little”?

“You are alone, we could say.” “No.” “Yes.”

Medda really isn’t taking no for an answer-

“The sellers of journals of New York!” I’m crying why is it such a mouthful-

“You want to be treated like an adult? Act like an adult!”

~ something to believe in scene ~

“It’s Specs!” wow kath throw specs under the bus like that-

“And if I was a boy you’d be looking at me with a butter black eye!” I’ve officially given up on the French language I’m sorry-

“You win a fight when the other guy bites the dust.” and another one gone and another one gone-

“If there’s a way I could grab hold of something,” has literally been shortened to ‘if I could.’ IF I COULD-

“If I could stop time.” I’m so mad

“Really?” “Really.” ahhHHHHHHHHHHH

“But it’s going. It’s going.”

“... who didn’t even know she gave me a hope.” WHAT EVEN IS THE POINT IF THE TITLE ANYMORE??

“But it’s going. It’s going.” The thrilling sequel

“No. I’m scared of you.” “No!” yeesh-

“I believe in something.” good for you

~ once and for all scene -

“He is with us.” but like… how much?? only 99 percent????

“We could hold a hoedown here.” I feel like the person translating this just gave up by the end of the show-

“Happy to have found you again.” what did you like lose him or something

“The close.” ok yes that’s funny, but it gets even funnier when you realize it could also be translated to “the farm.”

“A little grease, and she’ll be like new.”

“This is for the guys who kill themselves at the factories.” w h a t

‘THE BANNER OF SELLERS OF JOURNALS’ I’m still not over this

~ everything that comes after that ~

“Anyone who doesn’t act in their own self interest is an idiot!” ey watch it-

also what the heck is ‘quiconque’ I swear I’ve never seen that word in my life

“We will find a way, but let’s seize the moment.” first it was “the chance” and now it’s “the moment” google translate are u okay-

They really went and changed ‘bully’ to ‘monster’ didn’t they

“You can make it.” he really makes it sound like Jack is about to die or something-

“It’s disgusting!” you’re disgusting sir

“And the world will know, we’ve been taking notes.”

“It’s a joke!” nope lol

“Goodbye, fool!” I’M LAUGHING WAY TOO HARD ABOUT THIS-

“Well you already work for my father.” “Yes.”

“Super, Jack Kelly!” I CAN’T-

“So, Jack, you’re staying?” yeah sure close enough-

“Sellers of journals on a mission!”

Das it ‘my friends’ lol. Hope you enjoyed.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Family Prayer

Author: @mega-aulover​

Prompt: Buttercup and Diwali are not things that go together. So even though Katniss dosen't like him much, she and Peeta try to make things easier for Buttercup on that day. [submitted by @everlurked​]

Rating: Fluffy G

Author’s Note: This is a story about Diwali and wouldn’t have been possible without @cadsingh77​ who spent weeks allowing me to ask all sorts of questions about Diwali and what it means to her. I patterned it on her descriptions. She read it, as well, to make sure there were no cultural faux pas. I apologize if there is anything amiss. Also, I’m remiss if I do not mention @norbertsmom​ who at the eleventh hour betaed this story. She’s my rock my bestie, and I would be nothing without her.

__________

Peeta glanced at his suit in the closet. His hands shook. 

In a few hours he was going to meet the family of the love of his life. 

He looked at the phone in his hands. He was lying in bed researching everything Diwali. His girlfriend Katniss had gone over the topic. She explained that just as sunset happens an elaborate puja, a prayer ceremony is done in a temple to begin the holiday. But to most Trinidadians or Trinis, as she called herself, like her family, they said little personal prayers in front of Laxmi, Saraswati and Ganesh and then they would light the diyas, little clay lamps, that they were going to placed in all of the rooms of the house. 

Katniss made it all sound so simple. Diwali was a celebration of light. A victory over darkness. A day to wear new clothing, beautiful jewelry, sing, dance, pray, and light diyas. Katniss said any other guests would arrive after the prayers and they would have a ton of food and everyone would eat and hang out, kids would light sparklers, and there would be singing and dancing too. 

Curious, Peeta watched every Bollywood movie on Netflix. Movies, however, never really explained everything. He put the phone down. He had to  be honest with himself; Katniss’ assurances aside, he was a fish out of water no matter what he did. He was going to meet the most important people in Katniss’s life, her family.

In contrast, his parents were Dan and Cindy from Port Jefferson, Long Island. They owned a bakery near the ferry. They were dull people, they were like the parents of Ian Miller from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. But a lot colder and more dysfunctional, dressed in tans and beiges. Peeta constantly questioned why they would own a bakery that matched the color of bland. They never veered from the menu. Never introduced a new seasonal baked good. Peeta was stuck in that rut until he met Katniss and his entire world changed and color was introduced into his life.

Katniss was the electric jolt that kickstarted his dull heart to life. 

The first time he tasted roti, the buttery tasting flat bread he literally cried. 

From the pictures that Katniss shared of her family, he could tell they were a riot of awesomeness. 

Katniss and her parents hailed from Trinidad and Tobago. Her family moved to Long Island from Germany. Her father was an engineer and physicist. He worked at the superconductor in Germany and then came to Long Island so that he could work on a project at Brookhaven National Laboratory. Her mother worked at Stony Brook University. She ran the nursing department. 

Peeta and Katniss both attended Stony Brook University. He was on his way to a yoga class and she was in her Pink boxing class. From the glass covered room Peeta watched her hit the punching bag like Joe Fraser, and he was a goner. Peeta had a thing for strong women. His first middle school girlfriend bossed him and made him carry her books to and from class and he was a sucker for her, but she broke his heart. She told him she was only using him to get to his older brother Ryan. Peeta battled so much darkness in his life and what he needed was to chase the darkness away and to let the light into his heart. But he couldn’t deny he liked strong women. 

There was something about a strong alpha woman who knew how to get things done, unlike his mother who was passive aggressive, and banged the pots in the kitchen and slammed refrigerator doors. 

He sighed as he worried about tomorrow. He googled Diwali’s greetings and butchered the language as he tried to speak in Hindi. 

Peeta sighed heavily.

Katniss’s mother invited him over the phone. She wanted him to come over before the prayers began. It was an honor because he was Katniss’ boyfriend, someone she chose despite her father trying to get her to date the son of a friend of his. Katniss put her figurative foot down and claimed she was dating Peeta. Her father didn’t want to meet him, but he knew of him. 

So the pressure was on to be perfect. He didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing, especially in front of her family. His hands shook, this was important. He wanted to make a good impression on Katniss’ family, even if her father didn’t like him or the idea of him. Peeta wanted them to like him because, truth be told, his own family didn’t like him. 

Peeta loved his family, but ever since he was little, he knew he didn’t fit into the landscape of his family. He was labeled as the emotional one. He was too irreverent for them. Peeta liked color. He loved to paint. He enjoyed the change in seasons where his family loved one season, summer, because they generated the most money then. 

His family liked one or two flavors. Peeta loved all flavors, spicy ones, bold ones, subtle ones. They hated that he was always pushing to change the menu at the bakery. His childhood room was always the one his parents never showed off, because as a teen he painted the walls of his room every shade of orange. Peeta knew they sighed in relief when he decided to stay in the dorms at Stony Brook. His football scholarship allowed him to have that opportunity. He trained hard, studied hard, and loved hard. 

“Katniss,” her name escaped his lips like fervent prayer and a wish. He loved her, was consumed by her, and he was so overly happy that she invited him to meet her family for Diwali. And now he had so much pent up energy he couldn’t sleep. 

His teammates made fun of him, because he got a goofy lopsided I-got-my-hippopotamus-at-Christmas type grin, whenever Peeta thought of Katniss. He closed his eyes picturing her olive skin, thick straight dark hair braided into a rope, small pert nose, and silvery eyes that were breathtaking. Though it wasn’t her physical parts that made him fall in love. It was the woman who lay beneath the surface.

What made him sit up and take notice of Katniss after he saw her box, and he was out of the yoga room, was that there was a blonde girl at the gym working out. There were these idiots guys making fun of her, calling that poor girl fat, just because she was full figured. Katniss walked straight up to the guys and gave them a scowl full of fire and brimstone, called the girl hot and told her that if she were gay she’d do her in an instant. Then she told the guys that they could jackknife themselves off the roof of the building. Peeta had never seen anything sexier in his life. Katniss was full of fire and she was resplendent more so than the sun. 

His phone buzzed drawing him away from his memories as the message came in.

KATNISS: Why are you still up?

Peeta grinned, his phone betrayed him. In some phones a little dot showed up next to the person when they were on their phone. Katniss must have noticed. 

PEETA: Stalk much.

KATNISS: LOL

Peeta could see those three little dots moving as she wrote a reply. 

For the most part Katniss wasn’t a talker. Unless she was passionate about the topic and then she was a chatterbox.

KATNISS: FUNNY. Seriously, tomorrow is going to be a long day. You need to sleep.

PEETA: Because tomorrow I am going to meet your family.

Peeta could see her rolling her eyes even through the phone.

KATNISS: You don’t have to be nervous. 

PEETA: If you tell me all I have to do is be myself, I swear I am going to come dressed as Buddy the Elf.

KATNISS: Dork.

PEETA: Yes, but I’m your dork.

KATNISS: They’re going to love you.

Peeta sighed. 

PEETA: This is important. I want to make a good impression. Your family is important to you and given that my family…

Peeta sighed. He’d brought Katniss to the bakery to meet his family because they didn’t have time for him. His father was pleasant. His mother, however, spoke loudly and slowly as if Katniss didn’t speak English. Katniss spoke various languages and was extremely intelligent. Her mother wanted her to be a doctor, but Katniss had a passion for the environment. Her major was environmental studies, with a minor in geology. She was brilliant and he felt like the dumb jock.

KATNISS: Your family is fine, well except for Ryan. Someone needs to examine him.

Peeta chuckled. His brother Rye stared at Katniss as if she was Christmas, Easter, and summer vacation all rolled up into one. He then proceeded to flirt with Katniss, by using every campy movie line known to mankind. In typical Rye fashion because he’d done it before to their other brother Lyle. Unfortunately in that instance the girl in question dumped Lyle to go out with Rye. 

He sighed. That was his dysfunctional family. Family gatherings were uncomfortable events. They weren’t exactly nice to one another.

PEETA: I have no excuse for my brother.

Peeta decided to follow his text with a self deprecating joke. A truth, his family thought him the odd one in the family. 

PEETA: But Ryan isn’t the bad apple. I’m not sure you know this, but I am the black sheep of the family.

KATNISS: You mean the sexy one.

A grin spread on his face at her compliment. 

Katniss’ family was conservative, and by extent, so was Katniss. He respected her boundaries and her values.  Family was everything to her and he loved her because of it, Katniss would lay her life on the line for her family. 

PEETA: Have I told you today how much I love you.

KATNISS: No, but I do love to hear you say it.

Peeta pressed the little microphone and recorded his voice, which sounded rougher to his ears than normal.

PEETA: (a voice email) I love you Katniss. I love your mind. I love your kindness. I love how you always talk about your sister Prim. I love the way you adore your dad. I love the way you look up to your mother. I think you are the most beautiful soul. And I am nervous because if you are wonderful, then your family has to be just as great.

He meant every word. 

They’d been dating for the last few months, but they’d been friends for two years. They weren’t easy years because of their schedules in school and the fact that her father had a mild heart attack right after they met. Peeta put himself in the friend zone because that’s what Katniss needed. He didn’t want her to feel pressure to feel romantic toward him when her dad, the most important man in her life, was ill. 

In the end, the bonds of friendship grew to a love so sweet and pure, that it shined out of her silver eyes. The first time she realized the love she held for him was more than friendship left him breathless, like stepping into a world filled with brilliant colors, light and joy. 

KATNISS: (a voice email) I love you too.

Her voice was breathy and filled with her heartfelt emotion.

Peeta couldn’t help but sigh contentedly.

KATNISS: Now as for tomorrow, don’t worry. When they see what a great guy you are, they will love you.

Peeta sighed.

KATNISS: NOW GO TO SLEEP, MELLARK!

PEETA:  Yes ma’am.

He grinned and would have followed her directions, but instead he stood from his bed and went into his suite kitchen. He needed to bake. It was the only thing he knew that would calm him down. He decided to make chocolate using the vegetarian items he purchased in the store. Come the morning he would make the Laddoos he planned to bring with him. In Hindi they were called Laddu but in Trinidad they were known as Laddoo.

Making the chocolate eased his nerves, so he actually got some sleep. In the morning, he showered and set to work on making the Laddoos. By three o’clock he was done, and all he had to do was wrap up the presents. Taking a red ribbon, he tied each box the way he’d done so many times at the bakery. 

His suitemates were gone. No doubt causing trouble somewhere on campus, which gave Peeta the time he needed to get ready. He took out his new suit. Even though Katniss told him he could wear a nice pair of slacks and shirt, Peeta bought a suit that was on sale for the special occasion. 

Taking a deep breath he took the small presents he had for her family. They weren’t necessary, but he wanted to make a good impression. He gathered up the Laddoos, the chocolate, the flowers - marigolds he sourced at the local home depot, and the paintings he made of her family made from the memory of the pictures she’d shown him. 

He drove, heading to the Everdeen home in Mount Sinai. The cottage-like house looked like something out of a movie or TV show: warm, inviting, like a real home, one filled with love, and not pretend.

As he walked up, he could hear laughter, genuine laughter, followed by singing and joy. Running a hand through his blond wavy locks he took a deep breath. “Okay Mellark, just be yourself,” he whispered, as he stood in front of the door.  

He raised his hand to knock on the door and his breath caught at the man standing there looking more like a navy seal instead of a physicist. This was Katniss’ dad. His chrome eyes were hard and they took him apart, much the way a defensive end could read a play and pick it apart while holding their defense line.  

“Happy Diwali.” Peeta tried to say confidently but his voice cracked. He could feel himself sweating.

Her father raised an eyebrow. “You are Peeta Mellark.”

Peeta nodded.

“Rahul!” A statuesque woman with blonde hair and pale blue eyes swatted Katniss’ father’s arm. He watched her sneak around him, dressed in a traditional red sari with gold thread. “Please behave.” Mrs. Everdeen quietly gave her husband a look. Her golden bangles clinked as she placed her hand dramatically on her hip. Peeta was glad Katniss had gone over the different fashions. He studied each one because he would do anything for Katniss. 

Peeta watched as her father’s hard analytical eyes softened the moment he beheld Katniss’ mother. Peeta could see how Katniss’ parents were a unit of one. They were in love and either one would fight the shadows and all of the evil in the world for their other half.  “Anjali.”

“I am Katniss’ mother, this is her father,” her pale eyes sparkled. “Please come in, we were waiting for your arrival. Come in,” she ushered him.

The home was two stories, to the left a halfway with rooms, to the right a living room, dining area, and a den to the far back. The house was decorated with warm rich colors, but everything was tied around the family, as pictures dotted the walls. There were lights everywhere hanging from the walls, the clay diya’s sat on the mantel.  Peeta stood in front of a picture of Katniss on her father’s shoulders, her twin braids flowing, her eyes crinkled in pure happiness. 

“Ohhhh you’re cute,” a younger, but deeper voice than Katniss’ said with impish mischief. 

Primrose took after Katniss’ mother, with the flaxen hair and the pale blue eyes.  Katniss explained that her mother was of British descent, while her father’s family, although sporting a European name, was from India. His great-grandparents came to Trinidad, fell in love with the island and stayed. 

Her mother walked away from her very wealthy family back in Trinidad to marry Katniss’ father. It was a little like they were the original Romeo and Julliet. 

His parents got together because his dad knocked up his mom.

“Primrose!” Mrs. Everdeen admonished. 

“What,” Prim said. Her pale blue eyes were inquisitive as she walked around him. The way Katniss talked about her sister, Peeta had expected a little kid, but Prim was as tall as he was. Her loose  pajama-like trousers that narrowed at her ankles, called shalwar, swooshed around as she made her round. Her red kameez, a flowing tunic with intricate gold patterns reminded Peeta of the pattern Mrs. Everdeen wore on her sari.

Prim was everything Katniss was not. She was a bold bright bubbly girl, who at this moment was making sure he was the real deal and not some mindless jerk. He stood, letting her because it was important that her family liked him. He wanted to be accepted. He felt his face flame up under the scrutiny. 

“I understand why my boring sister is constantly sighing.”

Peeta grinned, then he said, “Oh these are for you.” He gave them the presents. The flowers, the chocolate, and the sweetened chickpea Laddoos he made by hand for them.

“Oh these are fragrant, where did you purchase them?”

“He made them.” The soft voice that came behind him made his heart rate triple.

Peeta turned around and there stood Katniss wearing an emerald green lenghas. She had explained what it looked like, but at this moment, his brain that was always filled with words was momentarily empty, vanquished by her beauty. He swallowed, mouth slightly ajar. His eyes darted from the perfection of her face with those silvery eyes that captivated him, and the peek of dark hair that was hidden by the sari. 

Katniss held a shiny brass plate, she called a Tarrier, but in Hindi it was known as a Thali, containing coconut, almonds, and other sweets. Katniss told him the plate belonged to her great-grandmother Veronica. When her mother married her father, her great-grandmother gave it to her insisting it should go to her first born. He swore for a second he could see a miniature Katniss with his eyes staring up at him and holding the Tarrier. 

“He made them?” Primrose asked, Peeta could hear the intense curiosity in her sister’s voice. 

“His family are bakers, and Peeta is an amazing cook.”

“Really,” her father said, and his voice, the way he said that one word snapped Peeta out of his hazy fog. 

“Ah,” he nervously said. “I made her cheese buns,” Peeta felt the heat rising from his neck and caused those red splotches that his brothers made fun of. 

“Cheese buns,” her father repeated. 

“When you were in the hospital, daddy,” her eyes did not hide the pain of recalling those days. “Peeta noticed I wasn’t eating and cajoled me into eating cheese buns,” Katniss words were so soft. “He was the friend I leaned on for support when…” her voice trailed.

Peeta watched her father’s face take a look of adoring tenderness at his eldest, and when his eyes turned to Peeta they weren’t as frosty as they had been. 

“He even took me to temple to pray,” Katniss whispered.

“In Selden?” 

“Yes, daddy,” Katniss quietly said.

“Rahul,” Katniss’ mother chided. She cupped his cheeks, “Such a nice young man. Did you make the chocolate as well?” 

Peeta nodded, his eyes went back to her father. He couldn’t mess this up. 

Her mother smiled serenely, then her eyes lit with happiness as if she made a startling connection. “Oh! Pundit Sharma was right; they were destined in the stars.”

“Star crossed lovers just like you and mom,” Prim said. 

Her father cut his eyes away. 

“Oh my, these chocolates….” Prim moaned. 

“Primrose!” Her mother admonished. 

“What, he said they were for us,” Prim shrugged, plopping a chocolate in her mouth. “I’d say he’s golden. So what does a cheese bun taste like?” 

“Primrose, really, must you think only of your stomach?” Katniss shook her head. 

“Girls,” their father said in a stern tone of voice. “It’s near sunset. Upstairs with the lot of you. I swear corralling a dozen baby ducks would be easier.” 

The women headed upstairs. Peeta wasn’t sure, but her father swept a hand for him to follow him upstairs.

Peeta wasn’t sure what he was expecting, hopefully like something out of Khabi Kushi Khabi Gham. They had a small altar where he watched all of the women present the offerings and began to bow their heads. He stood behind quietly observing, but when Katniss began to pray it was like a song and her words that he didn’t understand wrapped around his heart and his lashes fluttered closed and a single tear fell down his face. Song after song her voice combined with that of her father, her mother and sister caused him to realize just how much he wanted to be part of this family, to be loved and accepted. 

He too prayed for a family to want him, to be needed. 

Peeta was so wrapped up in the moment when it was over he opened his eyes to find her mother standing before him with trembling lips, and watery blue eyes.

“Bend down son,” her father said with warmth in his voice. “She’s going to honor you by putting the sindoor on your forehead.” He pointed to his forehead, though his eyes had completely lost the frost. They were filled with admiration and the same warmth he had in his voice. Her father looked at Katniss and nodded as if giving her his blessings. 

Unsure if what he had just seen was real, his eyes went to Katniss,  but Prim said, “Go ahead Peeta, my father has just fallen for you too.” Her voice squeaked with that enthusiasm only a teenager could have. She wiped the tears from her face as well. 

Peeta bent down slightly. Mrs. Everdeen’s hand slipped to the Tarrier and with her ring finger she pressed it into the red dust Katniss’ father called sindoor.

The press of her finger was light. “When my daughter marries you. You will sprinkle this sindor over the part in her hair to symbolize her marriage to you.”

Peeta’s eyes flew to her father who nodded. “Welcome to the family son.” He clasped his back and said. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

Peeta couldn’t help but grin. He gazed at Katniss who came to him, her smile shy. He was going to follow them, but katniss put her hand on his, then stepped up and placed a small peck on his cheek. Then winked sassily. “I told you they would love you.” 

And like that, his prayers were answered; he now had a family. 

Years later, when he stood in the same position watching his little girl singing the puja, holding the brass tarrier, alongside Katniss. Just as in that memory from years ago he listened to Katniss voice blend with their daughter. Their voices blended in with his father-in-law Rahul, Primrose and her soon to be fiancé. Peeta was grateful that his prayers were answered, the darkness was swept away and light filled his soul.  And he was granted the family he always wanted.

[tru-neutral03]

I posted 92 times in 2021

28 posts created (30%)

64 posts reblogged (70%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.3 posts.

I added 101 tags in 2021

#daenerys targaryen - 24 posts

#daenerys stormborn - 14 posts

#house targaryen - 14 posts

#game of thrones - 12 posts

#asoiaf - 9 posts

#daenerys targeryan - 6 posts

#daenerys deserved better - 6 posts

#anti game of thrones - 6 posts

#anti got - 5 posts

#a song of ice and fire - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#still salty that they made dragonstone an empty island when there's supposed to be a fishing village of valyrian descended people

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

64 notes • Posted 2021-08-10 10:31:12 GMT

#4

Ok but hear me out

66 notes • Posted 2021-03-04 22:58:05 GMT

#3

You want to know what I just realized? Season 8 proved Viserys right. All the shit about the Usurper's dogs, to not trust Starks or Lannisters. All those prejudices he instilled on Daenerys proved to be 100% true. If she hadn't trusted Tyrion, Jon, Cersei or the North she would still be alive. If she had attacked the capital right from the get go she would've won the war before it started. That's right the last season actually made Viserys right in some way.🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

73 notes • Posted 2021-09-13 02:56:20 GMT

#2

This may be the petty part of me but I want House of the Dragon to flop. They're basically shooting a dead horse in the face with this show. A show they made about a house they've already butchered. I don't care about the casting or the bad wigs I just want this to fail so HBO learns a lesson.

185 notes • Posted 2021-09-12 22:16:41 GMT

#1

I am a dark skinned POC and the thing that kills me most about Anti Dany fans is that they infantalize the POC people that chose to follow and live for Dany.

The way anti Dany fans speak about freed men and women who chose dany as being “brainwashed into following a white savior” is colonialist and racist as fuck and I’m sick of it! Just because these POC were FORCED into slavery doesn’t mean that they are incapable of making their decisions AFTER they were freed! It reeks of “these poor savages that can’t make their OWN decisions, these poor dumb brutes” and I don’t think they realize how racist they sound.

It reminds me of when Missandei clapped back against Sansa in the crypt and Sansa fanqueens were all like “Missandei is a dumb brainwashed Stolkholm syndrome slave! Missandei MISUNDERSTOOD Sansa!” Which is HILARIOUSLY STUPID, considering that Missandei can literally speak 19 (19!) languages (like move over Samwell Tarly, there’s a new genius in town, and she’s got that black girl magic 🪄) and is Daenerys’ adviser. Missandei can speak more languages than season 8 Sansa has brain cells (RIP seasons 1-6 Sansa who used to be a kind, sweet badass in her own way, now she’s just Cersei 2.0) and apparently Sansa fans think that Missandei is too dumb to pick up on TONE.

The racism just jumped out from Sansa fans and I was horrified! What kills me the most is that if the Dothraki or Unsullied chose to fight for the Starks (because if the starks get advantages they DESERVE them, but if Dany does, she’s a “Mary sue” and “entitled bitch”) they wouldn’t care. It shows that they only care about POC as far as to weaponize us and I’m so done. It’s disgusting and needed to be said!

(Sorry I did answer earlier I didn't get a notification)

I couldn't agree more! They always try to make it seem that they weren't freed at all despite the fact Daenerys gave them a CHOICE! Some would say 'they didn't have anywhere else to go' uh yes they did but they CHOSE to the follow Dany. People trying to dumb them down so they could push their 'Daenerys is a master' narrative. It's just disgusting. As you said Missandei is a genius, she knows 19 languages, gives counsel to Daenerys and the people of Meereen trusted her as much as Daenerys. The Unsullied were taken as children to be trained as killing machines and to always be obedient but the moment they were freed they chose to follow Dany. Daenerys had them look within their own ranks to find someone who can lead them and chose Grey Worm who by the way was the best leader the Unsullied could've chosen. They obviously have the capability to make decisions on their own.

They want the slaves to be helpless, mindless victims under a manipulative queen but they are people. They are people with minds of their own and are choosing to put their faith in the woman who freed them. The fact that they try to diminish their choices with phrases like 'they don't know any better' is disgusting.

As for the Daenerys stuff I totally agree as well. Starks good, dragon lady bad thats their mentality. Even after the travesty that was that dumpster fire they still cling onto the idea that Dany will go mad and that the starks will save everyone. The 'Ice' in a song of Ice and Fire has been confirmed to be the the Others and the 'Fire' has been confirmed to be Dany and her dragons. The starks are prominent in the story but not title prominent.

She lived her childhood in squalor, homelessness and hunger. She knows that pain and hardship and seek to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else. She stopped the Dothraki from raping women (She's imposing her foreign ideals on them!😒) she ends slavery (What about the economy and culture?🤢🤮) she had nothing to gain from this, only more hardship but she did it anyway because she knows what it's like to be starved, raped and sold but somehow they see all of this as her decent into madness. In contrast, the Starks (yes including Jon) were raises in a castle with food, servants and security. After everything goes to shit they do whatever it takes to survive weather it be going to war (Robb), playing the Game of Thrones (Sansa), kill to avenge their family (Arya), cutting someone's head off to show your authority (Jon) or believing in visions (Bran).

These are all understandable reactions to what happened to them but when Daenerys does it she's a tyrant who only wants power. She waged war against slavery (Robb), remained civil with her enemies (Sansa), plans to avenger her family (Arya), or when she even thinks for moment that Quathe's prophecies are true (Bran)

Fact is that there will always be a double standard against Daenerys and anyone associated with her.

233 notes • Posted 2021-05-17 07:25:09 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[lu-undy]

Chapter 80 - SBT

Here it is!

“You can’t drive back, can you?”

“Non, I cannot. It would be a disaster. I haven’t been as drunk as this in years…!”

Lucien and Mundy were on the street in front of the pub where they had spent a wonderful evening.

“So we gotta walk, eh?”

“Oui, I guess so - ooh! Be careful!” Lucien helped his lover stand and walk straight. 

They clung to each other and started walking back home on foot.

“What about your bike?”

“It will come back home on its own.”

“You shittin’ me?”

“Non…” Lucien chuckled. “I am not shitting you.”

Mundy laughed.

“What?”

“So weird to hear you say that…”

“Well, I do tend to select my vocabulary with care, oui. I think that now, it is part of my charm.”

Mundy looked at Lucien. The Frenchman had an arm across his shoulders while Mundy held on to his waist. 

“Pfff, even drunk, you speak like a king…”

“Am I not yours?”

Mundy chuckled, he looked around in the streets and didn’t see anyone around. He grabbed  his lover’s jaw and kissed him then and there, sloppy and awkward. They both stopped walking to appreciate the moment. Lucien was hanging from his lover's neck like a teenage girl having her first kiss.

“Mh-? Mundy…” Lucien laughed. “Your kisses are even worse when you are drunk.” Lucien started walking and his lover followed, still clinging to him so that both could walk reasonably straight.

“Oi! You sayin’ my kisses are shit?”

“I wasn’t the one to say that.”

“Never heard anyone complain before, eh.”

“I am not anyone.”

“Course not, you fancy little snob.”

“Maybe, but you have a weakness for this fancy snob. Besides, I am not little.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Non, you are just tall.”

“Oh I'm too tall, now?”

“I did not say that.”

“Yeah, you did!”

“When?!”

“Right now!”

“Mundy, I never said you were too tall, I just said you were tall!”

“Bah, whatever! Same difference!”

They both chuckled and caught their breath. They looked left and right, trusting each other to keep their balance and walked under the street lamps, showering them in yellow, periodically.

“So…” Mundy started.

“Oui?”

“Sing us something.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, something I know too, and I can sing along.”

“Mundy, we are walking in the street, completely drunk!”

“Exactly! What’s a better moment than this to just sing?”

“Mon Dieu…” Lucien sighed.

“Alright then, I’ll sing somethin’, but don’t complain if you don’t like it, cause I won’t change it!”

“Fine! Show us your skills!”

Mundy cleared his throat and took a deep breath to fill his lungs with air.

“Je l’ai trouvée devant ma porte, un jour que je rentrais chez moi…! 

[I found her at my door, one evening, as I was coming back home…!]

Partout elle me fait escorte, elle est revenue, la voilà!”

[Everywhere she follows me, she has come back, here she is!]

Lucien smiled. Despite Mundy's accent and his drunkenness, he recognised the song. Of course, he did. It was the first one he had sung here, in Australia: La Solitude. He joined in Mundy's singing. 

"La renifleuse des amours mortes

[She can smell dead loves]

Elle m'a suivie, pas à pas"

[She followed me, step after step] 

"Elle nous fait le coeur à pleurer

[She makes us such that our hearts will cry]

 Elle nous fait des matins blêmes

[She gives us pale mornings]

 Et de longues nuits désolées

[And long, sad nights]

 La garce ! Elle nous ferait même

[The bitch! She even makes]

 L'hiver au plein coeur de l'été

[Winter come in the middle of summer]

They both sang their lungs out in the dark of the night, using the street lamps as their spotlights in the improvised stage that was the pavement. One was singing in drunk but perfect French, while the other reproduced the sounds he had heard on the cassette on loop… 

"Your voice is atrocious…!" Lucien put his hands on his ears and leaned on his lover. 

"Oi…! I'm singin' in a language I can't even speak, eh! Have some respect!"

"For what? Even the pronunciation you are butchering!" Lucien giggled as Mundy held him close.

"You're just jealous cause I sing so much better than you."

"What?! You aren't even respecting the tempo!"

"Whatever!"

Soon they arrived at the front door.

"You have your key?" Mundy asked while Lucien patted his pockets.

"Of course I do, don't you?"

"Bah, I dunno…" 

Lucien giggled and took the key out of his pockets. He struggled to align it with the lock, and Mundy didn't help. 

"Mundy, hold on… Stop it… I can hardly see straight already…!"

The Aussie was hugging his lover from behind and nuzzling in his neck, peppering kisses on his jaw. 

"There we go-oh!"

Lucien eventually managed to push the door open and enter but Mundy pushed him in and slammed the door shut with his foot. He took Lucien's jacket off of him and threw it away while pushing wet kisses against his lips, his cheeks and his chin. 

"Mon Dieu…"

They breathed louder and Lucien shuddered when Mundy's canines connected with his neck. He could feel their pointy sharpness pushing the skin there.

"M-Mundy!"

The Aussie pushed Lucien's back against the wall and it hit it with a thud. The house was dark and none of them wanted to switch a light on. They were busy. Busy, and cosy. Mundy was pushing Lucien harder and harder against the wall. First, it was only with his mouth, but now, his entire chest and abdomen was crushing the Frenchman. 

"You're so bloody sweet…"

Lucien raised his head and rolled his eyes in bliss, offering more of his neck for Mundy to play with. The Aussie laced his fingers between Lucien and pinned his hands against the walls. He put a leg between the Frenchman's.

"O-oh… H-hold on, let us go to the bedroom…"

"Alright, c'mere!" Mundy pulled back and put his hands on Lucien's backside. The Frenchman smiled but felt Mundy's hands continue to slide to his thighs from behind.

"What are you-? Wow!" 

The Aussie pulled Lucien off the ground and carried him in his arms. One of them was below Lucien's behind and the other, laced around his back. The Frenchman wrapped his legs around Mundy's waist and held on to him dearly while he walked to the bedroom.

"There, bedroom, ya happy now?"

Lucien looked his lover in the eye and smirked. 

"Not yet…"

"Right then, guess I need to fix that." Mundy pushed his lover against the wall again and dived to his lips, holding his cheeks in his hands, sliding his fingers through Lucien's long silver hair. 

The kisses grew heated, hungry even. Lucien's fingers were clawing on Mundy's sides, trying to dive deep in his skin through his clothes. 

There was no time to waste. Buttons flew as shirts were flung wide open. The cold air of the night bit their skin and the hairs along their body slowly stood up. Goosebumps shot along their spines. 

"Oh mon Dieu…" Lucien hardly managed to speak between two kisses, two twists of his tongue around Mundy's. He started to try and roll his hips against Mundy's. A reflex, nothing he could control, drunk as he was. 

"Bugger…" Mundy spun around and both tumbled and fell on the bed. Lucien ended up on top of him. They finished stripping off of their clothes, not knowing which way was up, down, left or right. Their mouths connected and disconnected with each other's, or their skins. God only knew if they were lying the right way around on the bed. 

Mundy grabbed his lover's jaw, pulling it down to him, and their tongues met before their lips did. Lucien's hair drowned them both, it kept them warm, their cheeks were past pink as their legs were sliding along each other's.

"Oh, Lu'-!" Mundy screwed his eyes shut and took a handful of Lucien's hair as he felt his beard scratch his cheek and slowly sink to his neck. The Aussie raised his eager hips to meet Lucien's and when they made contact, the Frenchman bit his lover's shoulder while the latter growled. The sting of Lucien's fangs was nothing but pleasure, especially when he let his tongue gently - if messily - lap the skin that had just been bruised. 

"Gosh… Lu'..."

Lucien continued going down. Mundy's chest. Oui. His messy dark brown hair couldn't hide the pink skin standing and beckoning the Frenchman. He made his way to it and didn't wait before circling it with his tongue, lap lasciviously around and pull earnest moans out of Mundy. Soon, his entire mouth was playing with Mundy's nipples and the poor Aussie grabbed whatever could bring him comfort. 

"Oui…"

Lucien felt the powerful fingers on his backside, kneading the skin there possessively. He rolled his eyes and continued his journey down, licking Mundy's stomach and biting his hip.

"Oof-! God, how d'you know I'm sensitive there?"

Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy. 

"I didn't. But now, I do." He gave Mundy's right side all the attention it craved. Kisses, licks and soft bites. They all made the Aussie sing and his hips roll into nothing. 

"C'mere, I need you."

"I am not finished." 

"Doesn't matter." 

Lucien raised a confused eyebrow but Mundy pulled him to his lips way too strongly for him to resist. When he kissed him, they both melted on each other.

"Need you more." 

"How do you want me?" 

"Turn around." Mundy answered but seeing that Lucien started to lie on the bed, he stopped him. "No, not like that." 

"How?" 

"On all four." 

Lucien obeyed, ending up on all four with Mundy looking up at him. 

"Now, turn…" Mundy pushed Lucien's arms to his right and grabbed his legs. "Yeah, like that." 

Lucien was speechless. He was still on all four, above Mundy, but this time, the Aussie's head was between his knees. 

"C'mere… Mh…" Mundy pulled Lucien's hips down.

"Oh-!" Lucien's eyes rolled up on their own when he felt Mundy's lips around his masculinity. "M-Mundy… Gently, please…" 

Mundy let the warmth and softness of his mouth and cheeks do the work for him. Lucien laid down and stuck his tongue out.

"Gosh… Yeah, just like that, ooh…"

His fingers were firmly wrapped around Mundy's eagerness while his mouth kissed and his tongue lapped. 

Both savoured each other lazily. Wet sounds and moans rose in the air. 

"Y'know…"

Lucien's eyebrows jumped. He didn't expect Mundy to start a conversation in the middle of… that. 

"I uh… I love ya."

Lucien smiled through his licks.

"I love ya and - oh, yeah, that's nice - I feel like sometimes… I don't even need to put any effort in. It's just… It's just natural. I love you and you love me, like it's easy, like the sky's blue or - orh, yeah - or the sun's bright. Lovin' you, it's… It's normal - aah! Oof, that felt real nice…"

Lucien sucked again and Mundy's toes curled up. He ended up treating Lucien's member with the same care and love as Lucien was providing his. 

"I understand what you mean, Mundy. More than this, I feel the same - ah, oui…" He gave a lick and a kiss below Mundy's begging for more and the Aussie's hips jolted gently. "I live this life with you like a free man. A free man who is living his best life. I wouldn't change a thing in the world - aha… Mundy… Oui…"

Lucien laid his head on Mundy's upper thigh but couldn't resume his speech. Mundy was giving some love to what was below his masculinity and Lucien had a bit of a weakness for it. 

"Oui… oh…" He moved his hips, giving him a good angle to have an easier access, encouraging Mundy to spend more time there. Lucien opened his legs a bit more. Mundy continued to suck, lick and kiss down until Lucien had to sit up. "Ah-! Please… Gently…"

"Or what, hm?" Mundy gave a furtive lick at Lucien's vulnerable entrance and the Frenchman's hips jumped on their own.

"O-or I might now last long…!"

"Your problem, not mine." Mundy answered in a growl and Lucien splayed his hands flat on the Aussie's stomach. It was less lean than his own, as Mundy's love for beer showed. But it wasn't much and Lucien had a weakness for its softness. Mundy kept on savouring, taking his time and playing Lucien like a delicate instrument. The song of the Frenchman's pleasure filled the air and with his tongue, Mundy controlled the pitch, the rhythm and the melody. "Listen to you sing, eh…? You got a beautiful voice." 

"Ah-!" 

Mundy pulled Lucien to sit better and the Aussie had his fun. He loved it and now that he thought about it, never had he enjoyed being on the giving end that much. 

But why? What pleasure was he getting out of pleasuring Lucien?

Pride. As simple and vicious as that: pride. He was immensely proud of making Lucien sing in octaves unheard of before. He revelled in making the arrogant man above him melt into a puddle of moans, liquid tremors and weakness. And it had its effect on his own body. Mundy could feel his masculine end more needy than ever, throbbing in rhythm with Lucien's song. 

"M-Mundy… Hah…" 

Mundy pulled Lucien to lie on him in his arms. The Frenchman was breathing heavily. He was out of breath. Why? He hadn't run, he hadn't tried to flee or escape this new life like he did the previous one. Non, he was out of breath because Mundy had taken it away with his mountains of affection and love. 

Mundy cupped his face and pulled him such that they rested their foreheads against each other's. He started to kiss him and Lucien's eyebrows arched up. It wasn't heated, it wasn't hungry at all. It was mellow, passionate, gentle and slow. Good God, where did Mundy learn how to kiss like that…? It was almost too romantic for him. He brushed Lucien's lips with his own, guiding them slowly while he brushed his long hair with his open fingers. His thumb came down to brush Lucien's upper cheek, above his short beard lovingly.

Oh.

Mundy felt it. His thumb had brushed a drop of water on Lucien's cheek. A tear. He wrapped an arm around him and stroked his entire back to support him, but he didn't break the kiss. No, to Lucien's surprise, he slowed down even more. Mundy pushed his lips against Lucien's and stayed there. They exchanged their breaths. They remained in the total silence and darkness of their almost empty bedroom. They didn't need anything but each other.

"Lu'...?" Mundy whispered. "Lu', I love you." He gave his lips a chaste kiss. "I love you, gorgeous."

Lucien frowned and more tears streamed in silence. He reciprocated the kiss and surprised Mundy with how eager he was. Through his tears and without a word, he was telling Mundy's lips all those things that words cannot possibly express, because those things are too big, too strong to fit in a string of letters. 

And they were back at it, Lucien rolling his hips against Mundy and both realised they were more than in the mood for more. Lucien's mouth slid in kisses to his lover's ear and he whispered. 

"I want you, Mundy."

"So do I…"

"Oh-!"

Mundy had slid a hand down and was stroking both their wanting for more in his fist. 

"How do you want me, luv'?"

Lucien's eyes snapped wide. He didn't expect Mundy to…?

"A-Are you sure?" The Frenchman asked. "You can… If you want…"

"No. Tonight, you take me."

Lucien bit his lip and rolled his eyes as he pushed his hips into Mundy's fist.

"Stay as you are." He eventually answered. Lucien went to the edge of the bed and let his arm fall to the floor, his hand groping at the floor below the bed. Suddenly, he located the bottle he needed. He fished it out from beneath the bed and in a fluid movement, he opened it and coated his fingers generously. Lucien went back on top of his lover and bit his neck. 

"Oh-! God, yeah… Nnh… Please, slowly…!"

"Ssh…" Lucien whispered. "Close your eyes, mon amour."

Mundy obeyed and felt Lucien's fingers massaging his intimate entrance. The slow, circular movement of the Frenchman's index finger was delightful and Mundy opened his thighs for more. That's when Lucien decided to kiss Mundy and lead it the French way. The Aussie melted in a low groan and he frowned at first, surprised by the intrusion and the unknown sensation.

"Calme-toi, mon chéri… Relax et laisse-toi faire. Je te promets que ça va te faire du bien…"

[Calm down, my darling… Relax and let yourself go. I promise you will feel good…]

Mundy's breath wasn't that of a calm man so Lucien switched to English. 

"Relax, Mundy… Take a deep breath." 

A smile slowly appeared on the Aussie's face. 

"Luv'...?"

"Oui, mon loup?"

[Yes, my wolf?]

"Say it again…"

"Say what? Take a deep breath?"

Mundy's smile widened with his eyes still closed and he breathed slower. 

"Gimme your hand, please." 

Lucien obeyed and Mundy held his hand on his chest, dearly. 

"What is it, Mundy?" 

"Take a deep breath… I think I fell in love with your eyes when you said that to me for the first time." The Aussie answered. "D'you remember? You said that in the hangar with the beasts, the first time we went there. You said that at Duchemin's party, when I felt overwhelmed by the people there… Oh… Each time you say that to me, it's like a magic spell, everything around me disappears and - ah - I see only you… Your gorgeous eyes… You manage to calm me down with only one sentence and yer eyes… Y-you're amazin', luv'..." Mundy's voice broke and Lucien dived against his chest to hug him. He tightened his grip on Mundy's hand.

"Ssh… I'm here for you… I am here for you, mon amour."

[My love.]

"Please, Lu'..."

"Oui?"

"Please…?" Mundy couldn't even ask the question fully. But he didn't need to. Lucien understood on his own. He removed his fingers and gently positioned himself. 

"Are you ready?" He whispered in Mundy's ear.

"Yeah."

And Mundy felt it. It was extremely slow and Lucien didn't leave his lips for the whole duration of it. 

"L-Lu', I-I'm sorry…" 

Lucien stopped and Mundy wrapped his arms around him. He started crying. The Frenchman's eyebrows jumped and he slowly tried to withdraw from his lover, but Mundy held him back. 

"No… Please..." He whispered between two sobs. 

"Are you sure?"

"I need you, bloody hell!"

Lucien obeyed without flinching and sheathed himself slowly back in.

"More, please - Aargh…!"

"Mundy, if it hurts, we shouldn't-"

"It doesn't hurt!" He cut him. "I… Please!" He grabbed Lucien's backside and pulled. 

"Orh!" 

That was it. They were one. Their lips were devoted to each other's. 

Mundy exhaled in a long, lovestruck sigh. His entire body melted. He slowly wrapped his legs around Lucien's waist. 

"What is it, mon amour? I can feel something is different."

Mundy's breath broke out and he sobbed again. 

"It's just that… Oh, bugger, listen to me… Pathetic…"

"Non, please… Tell me." 

"I've always dreamt of… Y'know… Finding someone I could trust this much, finding someone I could try this with… I mean… It might sound ridiculous but…"

"Please, non, it doesn't…" Lucien continued to whisper while holding his lover dearly. 

"I… I love you… I just… Turns out I've never loved people like I love you now. Please Lu'?"

"Oui?"

"Please never leave me." Mundy screwed his eyes shut.

"I will never leave you."

"You left me once and it was too hard." 

"I won't leave you, ever."

"You left me once and I thought I'd never make it."

"I will stay with you."

"You left me once and I needed you, everyday."

"I am staying at your side, forever." 

Mundy slid a hand behind Lucien's head and pulled him to himself. He put his lips next to his ear. 

"Please, take me." 

Lucien's hips started moving and Mundy's moans rose in the air. The Aussie had wanted it forever. He had always been in a position of giving, which is comfortable because as such, he knew he was leading things the way he wanted. But now, he trusted Lucien to have his way with him. He knew he was safe enough to let go of his pride, let go of his fears and face them. The truth was that Mundy had always been terrified of receiving, because he couldn't escape if things went in a direction he didn't want. He had no control, no power. 

And yet. As Lucien made love to him, he realised he needed neither control, nor power. He needed to feel supported, to feel that if even he himself wasn't in control of his life, even if he let Life unhinge her jaw with her impressive fangs in front of him, Lucien would be there to shield him, to protect him, to comfort him. Lucien would bear the burdens of his life with him. Lucien would take his problems and help him face them. Lucien would willingly step in, between life and Mundy, to save him. 

"Gosh…"

Lucien's hips rolled not to satisfy a craving, or an impulse. They slowly rolled to give love as much as to make it. He was giving his hips, his masculinity, his nudity and his time not only because it felt good, but because it was a sacrifice. He trusted his most intimate and fragile parts in Mundy's body. There was no other place where they would be safe, no. 

He didn't pick up the pace and it might have lasted for hours. Who knew? Both were slowly sobering up, sweating away the alcohol and the effort that they hid through the dark shadows of the night. They were both past exhausted and did not care for completion. They needed to feel they were one, they needed to feel each other. 

The kisses resumed. Mundy brushed Lucien's hair away from his face and nipped at his beard on his cheek before taking his upper lip between his own. He kissed not like a hunter, but like a prey, abandoning himself to the one man it wasn't shameful to show weakness to, the one man who wouldn't mock him for it, the one man who would support him, pull him up and carry him if he showed any signs of weakening.

Being the hopeless romantic he was, Lucien yielded to Mundy's wordless declaration of love, almost a declaration of submission, of surrendering. 

"I'm yours." 

Lucien wasn't sure he had heard the words but Mundy was sure to have said them. He spelt them with his tongue against Lucien's, his tears formed the words on his rough cheeks that hadn't blushed half as much as since he had met Lucien. 

"You are mine." 

"I'm yours."

"I am yours."

"You're mine?"

"I am yours."

"You're mine… I'm yours."

"I love you."

"You're everythin'."

"The sun I wake up to, the moon I fall asleep to, the air I need to breathe and the water I need to live."

"I'm-?"

"Oui, you are all these. All these are you."

Mundy pulled Lucien's lips to his and while the Frenchman smiled, the Aussie's tears rolled along his temples.

"Thank you, Lu'..."

"Sshh."

Lucien stopped rolling his hips and lay on top of Mundy. They were stuck to each other, in the middle of the bed, their clothes scattered in the room as if they had burst from their skins. Two bodies now one. 

"Take a deep breath." Lucien whispered with a smile and Mundy nodded silently. His lips pursed up in a smile and he kissed his lover. 

On the cheek.

[mirasage]

Muse Sage Backstory

UHHHHHHH im a fucking bitch for tragic anime backstory, so as follows is how I’ve written backstory for Sage. If riot ever decides to feed us good, I’ll listen, but I love the idea of her using her powers for,,, bad.

Mirai was from a poor family, born to work, doing labour since she could walk. Working to live meant she had no time for school, and both her and her brother were illiterate, something she didn’t realise was an issue until they moved to the big city. Regardless, she was happy with her life, living in a bubble, developing her quiet disposition, prefering to look inward, content with her own company. It’s a normal day in the city when the first light shatters her reality, and as she sobs over her brother’s prone body, clutching desperately at his spasming form as he bleeds out, her hands begin glowing beneath the fabric of his shirt. Her parents are buried deep, deep under the rubble of what used to be her home, and suddenly, she has nothing. Holding him until he goes cold, she weeps as her skin stitches itself back together.

She wanders the dead city for days before beings picked up by scavengers, deep in a dissociative fugue. The looters aren’t good people, but they have a roof, and food, and over the next couple years, everything goes dark. She masters her abilities, realises she can heal the harm she does, and doesn’t use it for good.  To this day, she only remembers bits and pieces, but along the way, she earns the title of “The Butcher”, still revered in certain circles. They give her a place to work, a disgusting basement, and she carries out their dirty work for her. Scrubbing will never be enough to get the grime out from under her fingernails, and she feels like Lady MacBeth in the way that the blood will stain her soul. She makes a life for herself in the carrion, deep in the gore of things. Surviving is adapting, and so she transitions from girl to soldier. Eventually, she learns to read - it’s a long journey, all half burnt books, (remnants of the explosion that shook the city, the world) and frustrated outbursts, but the words call to her, and as shapes make way for letters, and she learns about language, she finds a refuge. Sage still runs with her scavengers, working for a shadowy company she knows nothing about, but the pay is good, and she can practice her abilities (and have a corner she knows she won’t be interrupted in for when she slowly reads her books). Along the way, she picks up medical textbooks, forces doctors and surgeons from before to teach her, the threat of her abilities hanging heavy in the air. It’s not long before she’s masterfully wielding a scalpel, and it’s not long before medicine, the kind that isn’t “magic”, becomes her raison d'être.

Mirai has long since become a woman when a masked figure drops into her sanctuary to tell her she can be more than this. He’s heard about her, knows more like her. Mask tight to his face, he tells her that he can help her get back what she's lost, help her find a family, and at the same time, use her unique skill set for retribution. It’s justice he’s talking about, but aren’t justice and vengeance the same thing? One nod is all it takes to agree, and she finally leaves the city, joining a team of individuals like her. It’s like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders, and she’s no longer so alone. It’s on one of her first field missions with the valorant protocol that everything goes very, very wrong. Coms go dark, and the heady scent of copper fills the air. Gunshots ricochet off heavy concrete, but it’s so much louder when they stop, blood rushing in her ears, heart pounding, hyper aware of every little sound. She feels small, and dirty, flashing back to her days in her makeshift dungeon. Heavy in her hands, the cold steel of her phantom is her only comfort as she silently traverses the battle site. Mirai zeros in on him from an angle, and isn’t sure if he’s dead -  the man that recruited her - but he’s lying prone in a dark puddle, no noise coming from him. It’s a bitter, dark feeling, and she’s never felt more desperate than when she places her hands on him. “I wasn't strong enough before... but now, now I am strong enough for us all!” Fuelled by anguish, she pours her all into him, seeing radianite fractals bloom from her palms, encasing him in a chrysalis of cyan. Mirai wasn’t expecting wasn’t expecting for him to burst out, ready for action, but she takes it in stride, effortlessly hones the new skill, practicing whenever she gets the opportunity, which in her line of work, is often.

It’s only when the door lock clicks behind her that the facade breaks, calmness giving way to fury, to grief. She mourns her brother, hates herself for her lack of skill, feels the weight of the knowledge that he would still be alive if only she’d known. Compartmentalizing is coping, and as time passes, Mirai becomes who she was, not who she is. Mirai is who she is when she’s really feeling, when she’s alone enough to be vulnerable. She’s reborn as Sage - the wise healer, strong enough to move a mountain, infallible. The slight smile never leaves Sage’s face, a practiced mask of understanding, but underneath the obsidian shell, Mirai writhes, and The Butcher scrubs her hands.

[kpophoneybunny]

Aurora (Chapter 2) - ATEEZ OT8 Pirate!AU

Genre: Adventure/Romance (Mostly fluff)

Rating: PG-13 (later chapters will have strong language, violence, and suggestive situations)

Disclaimer: Our main girl has a name but feel free to self-insert. Honestly, this chapter is mainly some necessary exposition so that you know who’s who and the general vibe on the ship. The next chapter will be more plot heavy, I promise.

Tag List: @unatempesta-dipensieri

“Now that you’ve seen the whole ship, I should introduce you to the guys. You already met Captain Hongjoong. He’s a lot nicer than you think. He just doesn’t trust you yet. The first mate is Seonghwa.” San was walking backwards, completely unbothered by the swaying of the boat. “He’s up there. The one steering the ship. Yeosang is our navigator. He’s right next to him with the compass and map.”

“Who was the guy with the deep voice? The tall one?” Jangmi asked quietly. “I need to thank him for advocating for me.”

“Mingi? He’s a big softie. Doesn’t surprise me that he helped you out right away. He’s the quartermaster so he keeps the crew in line. He’s the main line of communication to Seonghwa and Hongjoong.” San shrugged, sitting on a chest without ever looking back to see where he was or if the chest was even there.

“And what about you? What do you do?” Jangmi was completely out of her comfort zone. The only woman on a boat of pirates… yet, she felt safe. They seemed oddly kind and well-mannered.

“I’m a boatswain and so is Yunho over there. We do the jobs no one else wants to. Most of our day is spent cleaning.” He chuckled, looking over at Yunho who was actively waxing down the railings. “Jongho’s the cook. He’s the one who made that broth for you. And Wooyoung’s up there. He doubles as our rigger and our main gunner.”

“Hey!” A voice called from the crow’s nest. Jangmi craned her neck to look up. Wooyoung was at the top of the main mast, waving enthusiastically. “I’m Wooyoung.” Even from so far away, his smile was obvious and his voice was easily heard.

“You all seem so friendly. I can’t believe how kind you all have been to me.” She was still getting used to the pants and the shirt that didn’t even reach past her butt. She felt so naked and it was obvious from how closed her stance was, as if she was trying to hide her figure.

“Are you cold? It’s a bit breezy, I guess.” San bit his lip. “Would you like a coat? We don’t have too many right now but-“

“No. It’s not that.” She blushed, looking away. She didn’t know how to explain that she felt incredibly exposed without crossing any lines of decency.

“Oh. You must be that woman everyone’s been buzzing about.” Seonghwa was coming down the steps from the back of the ship where the wheel was. “How are you adjusting so far? Is San treating you well?” He spoke so properly, much like a nobleman.

“Oh. Yes, San is very kind. I’m still getting used to all of this, if I’m honest. It’s a lot to take in.” She bowed politely. “I’m Min Jangmi, eldest daughter of the Min family of Jeju.” She was so used to introducing herself by her title, it was natural and rolled off her tongue effortlessly. “I heard that you have a similar background.”

“Who said that?” Seonghwa gave a pained smile. He didn’t like remembering his origin. He hadn’t enjoyed that life at all: being forced into formalities and boring studies, being told who to marry and who to be friends with.

“Mingi.” San cringed. “I know you don’t like talking about it but she might need someone who understands the shock she’s going through.”

“I wasn’t shocked.” Seonghwa shook his head, looking Jangmi over pityingly. “I ran away for a reason. I wanted this life so I found you all. I wasn’t found on driftwood.”

“Why would you leave? Back as a noble you live comfortably and never have to worry about anything except marrying well.” Her eyebrows were creased and she couldn’t help but look at Seonghwa as if he was a riddle without a solution.

“Some people like making decisions for themselves, deciding what their life will be for themselves.” Seonghwa sighed. “San, she needs a longer shirt. Something that’ll help her feel less exposed. The poor thing is used to full hanbok.” He knew how she must feel. Noblewomen were never supposed to be alone with a man that wasn’t family, it wasn’t decent. But here she was, in what she felt was undergarments and surrounded by strange men.

“Oh.” San’s eyes widened as he took in her stance. Legs pressed together tightly, arms crossed over her chest, her whole body rigid. She looked frightened and uncomfortable. Not to mention the look in her eyes. Was she going to cry? Was she that shocked?

“Don’t. None of us know how to handle that.” Seonghwa sighed. “We can’t help you if you-“ he was cut off by a tiny sob, “cry.” Groaning, he grabbed her by the elbow and sat her next to San on the chest. “Just… take a break. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

“Okay.”

“Are you crying?!” Yunho’s eyes widened as he reached the trio. “You’re crying?!” He didn’t know what to do other than gawk at the display of sheer emotion. Jangmi stiffened even more, lips quivering.

“She’s crying?” Wooyoung called from his perch at the top of the mast. “Who insulted her?”

“No one!” San answered. “I think she just feels naked!” Her eyes widened in embarrassment and she shrank in her seat, trying to feel less visible.

“No-“ Seonghwa gave a resigned sigh as all the guys instinctively looked over in curiosity. She was well covered. What was wrong with her clothes?

“She’s crying?” Yeosang called. “Is she homesick?”

“No! She feels naked!” Wooyoung answered. Her face reddened. Great… now the whole ship knew how exposed she felt.

“Who’s naked?” Mingi called as he came out from Hongjoong’s cabin.

“Jangmi!” San called. “Well, no. She just feels naked!”

“She feels naked?” Hongjoong followed Mingi out, eyebrows knitted together in concern. Jangmi grew nauseous, not certain if it was out of embarrassment or sea sickness.

“Guys!” Seonghwa snapped. “Back off! You’re being very intrusive. She probabaly just wants to be left a-“ Jangmi suddenly short to her feet and pushed past Seonghwa to the railing, vomiting over the side of the boat. Everyone immediately cringed. They had all felt that way at first, sick.

“Whether I am crying or not is none of your business!” Jangmi turned to stare them all down, wiping vomit off of her face, still shedding tears. “And yes, I feel exposed! Are you enjoying the show?!”

The atmosphere grew tense. She sure had attitude. “That’s enough.” Seonghwa whispered. “They get it.”

“No! They don’t get it. I’m the only woman here. I know you’ve all been talking about me and I can feel you all staring at me like I’m a piece of meat. Your kindness doesn’t hide the fact that you’re still men.” Her hands balled into fists and her face reddened with every word. “I feel exposed and vulnerable because I’m used to long and wide skirts. And I’m crying because I’m homesick. None of you will ever understand how scared I am right now.”

“Come on.” Seonghwa grabbed her arm and took her back to the lower decks, digging in a box full of clothes they had either bought or stolen. “This one is pretty big and the cloth is thick. You should feel more… comfortable.”

“Thanks.”

“Go easy on them. I’m the only one from a background like ours. We aren’t supposed to talk about it but you’ll understand them better if you know.” Seonghwa handed her the shirt. “Hongjoong’s parents were butchers. I don’t need to explain to you how low people like our parents view them. He was repeatedly beaten for talking back so he ran away with some pirates and inherited the ship when they all got caught.”

“So he… he’s a lowborn but he’s in charge here?”

Instead of addressing her prejudiced comment, Seonghwa just kept talking. “San was born into slavery. He flirted with a young noblewoman when he was thirteen and was sentenced to be beaten until death. He was running away when Hongjoong found him. He’s only a boatswain because he never learned anything else.”

“What about… the rest of them?”

“Wooyoung and Yeosang were in the Navy but never had the taste for following such strict orders. They know the seas and they’re good at their jobs.” Seonghwa remembered the day Wooyoung and Yeosang arrived. They were planning to steal a ship and escape their lives in Joseon but had stumbled onto The Aurora. Hongjoong has them locked up for several days while he grilled them for information about their pasts.

“Mingi… well, he killed someone out of self defense but he was just a merchant and the other guy was a noble. He wanted to live so… he ended up running right into us while we were ransacking a closed shop for some food.”

“You were stealing?!” She gasped. “But-“

“We’re pirates, Jangmi. Our riches are mostly stolen jewelry and ornaments for hair or clothing. You can’t exactly pay in those anymore. We have coins now.” His voice was laced with sarcasm. He was treating her like she was some sort of snobby idiot and she was getting sick of it.

“Stop treating me like you’re so much better than me.” Jangmi huffed. “You’re making it harder to like you.”

“Who said I wanted you to like me? All I need is respect.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes and stood. “Jongho was found at a shipwreck on an island. He doesn’t remember his past or he doesn’t want to say. But that’s all we know. Yunho used to make pottery. And that’s everyone. Now, I’ll leave you to get changed. Find San when you’re ready. There’s still more to learn.”

[zertzertzhang]

Stand and Deliver: My Life Turned Upside Down CH.2

A/N: This is my first time writing on Tumblr, so please bear with me! I am usually active on FFNet and AO3, but since this fandom is basically nonexistent except for here, I thought maybe I could post my works for this movie here. The story is a fanfic based on the 1988 movie ‘Stand and Deliver’ starring Edward James Olmos, and taking a deeper look into the lives of the impoverished students in East LA.

Eventual Angel/OC, and warnings of racial slurs with some physical violence.

:

:

First chapter link here > https://zertzertzhang.tumblr.com/post/627185848305270784/stand-and-deliver-my-life-turned-upside-down

Chapter Two: Circus

The second Vianne stepped out of the car, she realized her mistake. The school wasn’t what she expected at all. Garfield High broke the scale...in a bad way. Chipped walls decorated the main hall, flooded with overflowing trash bins and rusty pipelines. It had to have been decades since the last renovation, with the building looking like something she saw from abandoned prefectures. 

Like all other complexes she’d seen around there, the place was standing on its last two feet. This was supposed to be the best building around. 

Her white Giuseppe sneakers stepped on something sticky, and it was a challenge to hold in a disgusted snort. There was dried gum everywhere on the sidewalk, making Vianne wonder why they even bothered with trash cans in the first place. She winced when it was clear that her shoes would be torn to shreds by the end of the day.

Then came the worst part of her arrival; people stared. And it wasn’t some half-assed look you gave to a passersby on the streets. Students were either throwing her a look-over or straight on gaping. It could’ve been the way she was dressed, or the fact that she was probably the only Asian mingling in the midst of Latinos and very few Caucasians. Most likely both.

Ironed blouses and slim denim were not in fashion around here. Among the rest of the population with oversized shirts and baggy mom jeans, Vianne was the runt of the litter. She wanted to jump back into the car, go home, and put on an invisibility coat. The dirty look she saw from some of the girls did nothing to calm the queasy storm in her stomach.

“-That fresh meat?”

“It’s a fuckin’ chink. What’re they doin’ here?”

“Heh, looks like a lost puppy.”

The boys were doing a terrible job at whispering. Vianne wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at passive aggression or just plain stupidity. She glared in their direction, lips pulled into a slight frown as she entered the building. A cold sweat broke through her back, stretching its spindly fingers around her body in a tight cocoon. 

Ignore them and get on with it.

Her mind screamed at her to keep walking, and she obliged. Repeating the mental mantra, Vianne soon found her way into the main office with her slip in hand. A handful of police officers crowded in one tiny space, speaking in rapid Spanish. Order did not exist in this school; the secretary was talking to five people at once, without the time to think about the things she said. Voices filled with agitation hung in the air. 

Vianne was this close to thinking she had entered the wrong room when a small figure spotted her from behind.

“Miss? Can I help you?” A small tap on her shoulders sent her whirling around in alarm. Her little outburst startled the short woman behind her as well. When Vienne finally registered the lack of threat in front of her, her cheeks flushed bright red.

“Sorry! I’m looking for Racquel Ortega. It’s my first day and I was told to come here to get my finalized schedule.” The young woman spoke so fast she swore her lips would fall off. 

The curly-haired woman in the maxi dress looked surprised. “Ah, that would be me. Are you Vianne Yang.”

Vianne nodded. “I was supposed to meet my TA instructor for math. It’s my first period.”

Ortega smiled warmly. “Yes. Welcome to Garfield High. Please follow me.” She held out a hand, and Vianne shook them without hesitation. 

The duo weaved back and forth in the crowds, desperate to dodge the flying paper balls. Ortega would yell once in a while at a group of boys before pointing to the office behind her. The way her docile demeanor went from zero to a hundred freaked the young woman a bit. But Vianne couldn’t blame her. Had she been in her shoes, she would’ve quit before she even started.

As it turned out, her instructor was a retired engineer. Of all places, Vianne didn’t expect that to come from a high school teacher, particularly in this neighborhood. Ortega did an excellent job at filling in the details. It would seem that Jaime Escalante needed a breath of fresh air from the corporate environment. 

Vianne almost felt sorry for him. There was no relaxation here; she’d be surprised if the teachers weren’t dropping dead from exhaustion because of the students. Garfield, from what she’d seen so far, could drive a devout nun to insanity. 

The increasing voices of everyone around spiked her anxiety to new levels. She was doing her utmost best to not break down and cling onto the older woman for dear life. The mass of bodies was like an unforgiving current, threatening to wash her away if she slipped up.

They reached a door with the sign ‘Math 1A’ scribbled on the whiteboard next to it. Someone had decided that a drawing of a dick was appropriate to be placed right under the description. The person even added a smiley face onto the artwork, showcasing their enthusiasm. Real classy. 

“Racquel please come to the front desk. Racquel please come to the front desk.” Ortega’s walkie-talkie crinkled pitifully, before choking out a command. The math advisor sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She nudged Vianne closer to the door. 

“Here’s the classroom. Mr. Escalante should be there already. Good luck with your school year.” A tight smile appeared on Ortega’s face, and within seconds, she was making a mad dash back to the main hall. All alone, Vianne was left standing there feeling like a complete fool. She blinked at where Ortega was previously, and the sense of dread overwhelmed her. On cue, the bell rang its warning. Everyone groaned in unison like a chorus before the wave of students began flowing into the classrooms. 

Lucky for her, she had no need to run to class. Grabbing the nob with renewed strength, Vianne pulled herself into the room. There was one person at the front desk; a middle-aged man nearing his sixties stood near the chalkboard, hand moving furiously as he wrote down an equation. She prayed that this was going to be the right person.

“Mr. Escalante?” Vianne cringed at her pronunciation of his name. She herself knew what it was like when people screwed up hers in the past. But this man had an entirely different level of difficulty. Ortega’s way of saying it felt so natural compared to hers, which sounded like an insecure toddler butchering their first word.

The man turned his head to face Vianne, eyes widening a fraction. His oversized glasses gave him a sage-like appearance despite the head, or half-head, of dark hair. The bald spot in addition to his very casual attire made her think of a grandpa who was likely to yell at the kids across the lawn. 

At the sight of her dumbstruck state, he quirked his lips. “Yes, how may I help you?”

The slight South American accent trailed after his speech, giving away his ethnicity. Vianne felt her mouth open and close, but the nervousness took the words from her mouth. She stuck out her hand that held the transfer letter. Escalante better have known about this, or she’ll flip a lid.

“I’m Vianne,” she explained. “Your TA. I think Mrs. Ortega already told you about me?”

Escalante’s brows rose to new heights, his amused smile broadening. “Yes! Miss Yang, is it? Welcome to my class!” The elongated hiss in his way of speech, coupled with the wild gesture of his arms painted the picture of a mad scientist in her head. It was nearly endearing.

“I’m afraid there’s not enough chairs for an extra student,” Escalante said. “Please stand here and wait for everyone to arrive so I can take a headcount for the others.”

Vianne obeyed without a word and flattened herself against the wall next to him. In response, the door was barged open, and the group of students flooded the room like a swarm of wasps entering their hive. Restless chatter buzzed her ears as she took note of everyone that rounded the class. It was hard to catch what most of them were saying; Spanish wasn’t the language requirement she took back in Napa.

Knowing French wasn’t the best course to help her in this situation. And even then, she only took it up to level two. The people before her all wore the same dazed expression, jeering in loud volumes and hooting on the sides.

Someone shot a rubber band across the room, hitting one of the boys square in the face. Angry shouts erupted from both sides as the rest of them began to laugh at the brawling duo. More paper balls were thrown, and Vianne could hear some of them yelling ‘bitch’ to one another.

It was a fucking joke. The whole class was a joke––scratch that––the whole school was a joke. And Vianne was the poor audience that bought the overpriced ticket to the hellhole circus. There was not a word that could describe the boiling feeling in her gut. She couldn’t believe it; this was the place she had to deal with for another year. 

There was no way the teachers here could’ve survived each day without going into a catatonic state before school ended. Vianne drummed her fingers against her books without mercy. A panic attack was just inches away from happening if the class refused to settle down. And from the look on Escalante’s face, it would appear that they shared the same sentiment.

A scowl donned his face, creasing the heavy lines on his forehead. If it weren’t for Vianne’s distracted state, she would’ve been frightened by those narrowed eyes. 

“Come now!” Escalante’s voice boomed throughout the small room. “You don’t want no mama’s chancla when you get home, no? I’d love to see you fight with your parents around.”

The overt threat was not lost among the students, with some of them slinking away in defeat. Others ‘booed’ at the command, but made no extra attempts to disrupt the already late start of the lecture. It took about five minutes to get their total attention to the board, and that alone fried Vianne’s brain.

“Orale!” Escalante’s mood quickly brightened at the cooperating mass, his smile twinkling with interest. “Allow me to introduce my new TA. She will be your lovely assistant for the rest of the school year. Any extra questions, she will answer for you.”

His hands gestured to her like a magician preparing his new subject for a spin. But only in this state, nothing was magical. It became clear that Escalante was waiting for her to present herself; the man eyed her expectantly, his grin not budging an inch. 

Vianne felt her cheeks flush so hot that it put the musty LA weather to shame. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. “Hi, uh, I’m Vianne. It’s a pleasure to meet you all...uh, hope I could be of some help.”

An urge to facepalm was strong. Had her grades been irrelevant to her stay in Math 1A, she would’ve made a beeline for the door. The reception after her introduction was a nightmare, because everyone began jabbering all at once.

“The fuck?!” A young man with a messy afro glared at her. His buddies around him sniggered in agreement.

In the front, a chubby male with curly hair snorted. “Booooring!” His female friends rolled their eyes and swatted him on the shoulders. But their giggles weren’t held in for long.

Vianne wanted to find the nearest cliff and throw herself from it. If she converted to Buddihsm now, maybe she’ll even have a decent shot at getting a nice reincarnation.

“First you, now the chink?! This is messed up man!” A few more hostile tones rose from the back. 

Her eyes flared. Vianne changed her mind; she didn’t want to throw herself off a cliff anymore, she wanted to throw them. Her body trembled with brewing rage under her skin. The nerve of the scoundrels! As if she wanted to be here! If it were up to her, she wouldn’t even spare them the time of day. Like an uncontrollable tick, her temper fired in sparks. A snide retort was about to make its way to the public when Escalante’s hands came up in a flash.

“Silence!” The tone of his command left no room for arguments. “Another remark as such, and all of you will be spending Saturday school for a month!”

The teacher was practically bristling from head to toe. His friendly disposition came and went at a dizzying speed, tugging Vianne onto an emotional roller-coaster. However, she was nonetheless grateful for the save. One thing was for sure, skin color was not up for debate in his classroom. At least she found an ally in desperate times. 

At his outcry, the students grumbled amongst themselves and quieted down. She still received dirty looks from the girls, but they were mostly silent. One youngster in the front row with earrings gave her a lopsided grin and tutted with refined casualness.

“Yo ese! Does that mean if you assign sex homework I can ask her number?”

A few other boys cheered from the back, throwing their thumbs up as if they heard the best joke in record time. The girls cringed and sent disgusted scowls their way, with one of them commenting about how horny the bastards were. Only one person in the audience didn’t react. The girl with short, curly hair looked at Vianne, a pitying stare adorned her guise. 

Humiliation wasn’t something Vianne dealt with on a daily basis. And the sudden onslaught nearly had her burst into a tearful temper tantrum. Glancing over to Escalante, she could see the patience waning from him as well. The class was saved from another wrath from either of them when the bell rang again. 

Without a second thought, everyone except for the girl with short hair bolted for the door. The insult Vianne had prepared was lodged in her throat, unable to make their move. Was this a mistake? She was sure that it wasn’t even halfway through the first period, they still had more than an hour left. Time was a foreign concept to her in this town, and she figured her mind must’ve been playing tricks on her.

“Um, is class over?” It was a rhetorical question. But what answered her caught her off guard.

“Give it a minute,” the girl said. Her pencil tapped with a delicate rhythm against the desk as she wore a tired expression. Vianne stared at her with disbelief before turning her head to the instructor. Like the girl, Escalante showed no interest in leaving, instead opting to go towards the window. 

Curiosity got the best of her, and she soon joined him by the blinds. “What’s going on?”

“They rigged the bell again.” From Escalante’s frown, she reckoned that this was a common occurrence. Following his gaze, her eyes landed on a group of young men congregated before the main school alarm. All of them were donned in dark clothing, wearing baggy jeans and beanies. The distance made it hard to see their faces, but Vianne thought she caught sight of a tall figure moving amongst them. He was laughing obnoxiously, while engaging in a bro-shake with a shorter male. 

None of that was relevant, though, because the bell rang again, this time from the superintendent. His red face deepened to a shade of purple as he and the principal began their rounding of the rioting teens. The mob of students were herded back to their respective classrooms, all groaning and whining at the ‘unfair treatment’ of their lunch break.

“Lunch isn’t for another two periods!” Principal Molina shouted. “Get back to class!” His finger pointed to the doors, and his eyes bulged like an angry bull’s.

“Shut the fuck up!” A few students jeered. More paper balls were thrown, but there wasn’t anything Molina could do about it.

All the while, Vianne and the girl sat dumbstruck as they stared at the whirlwind of people coming back to their seats. Vianne swore that if this was how it was going to be for the rest of the day, then she’ll gladly accept them leaving on their own accord.

After another ten minutes wasted on trying to get her classmates to settle down, Escalante wiped his brow with a handkerchief. The toll of the students had taken its effect on him as well. But the sly grin never left his face, unbreakable like hardtack.

“I told you it was futile to escape,” he taunted softly. “There’s always a bigger fish in the pond.” 

Vianne sent him a disbelieving look. Was the man not afraid of backlash? But the rest of the class only ignored him and glared, defeated. The class TA let out a breath of relief, for a moment she feared that it’ll lead to another brawl, this time at the instructor.

“Turn to page fifteen! And I want all of your homework turned in to Vianne right here. Once you’ve done that, work on problems one through ten on the multiplication of fractions.” The command was calm and precise, not a word stuttered. Escalante corrected the glasses on his nose and squinted at the chalkboard, not giving a fuck about the moaning teens.

It was Vianne’s cue to get to work. She didn’t hesitate, and began roaming around the room collecting wrinkled papers. With time, she learned that the girl who stayed behind was Ana, the frizzy-haired girl behind her was Claudia, and next to Claudia was the redheaded Lupe. Neither of the two gave Vianne much of a glance, preferring to ignore her existence as she took their homework.

Not bothering to tell them about the mutual disdain, Vianne clicked away happily. She soon found out that the man who kept asking for sex was Tito, his lopsided smile broadening when she came to take his paper. 

“How ‘bout we do a trade,” Tito suggested, licking his lips. “My work for your number.”

Vianne wished very much to flip him off and top it with a whack on his head. But she chose to snatch the homework from his hands without a word. A snort escaped her as she turned around.

The boy next to him, Frank ‘Pancho’ Garcia, hooted. “Rejected!” 

Tito scoffed. “Tsk, tsk. Playin’ hard to get I see.” He waved a casual hand and went back to his workbook. “It’s her loss.”

That’s what every virgin says. Vianne rolled her eyes at the added comment. The stack of writings were presented to Escalante, who took it with a gracious ‘thank you’. His lack of reaction to the jeers made her question just how much he was going to take because of his job. The probability of him being numb to the antics was high.

 Just when Vianne thought her task was done for the time being, the door creaked open. She raised a brow; there were three more seats left in the corner, so it made sense that there were more people coming in. Facing the entrance, Vianne tried to get a better look than using the corners of her eyes. 

Her stomach lurched at the sight, and she had to bite her lips to keep from hyperventilating. If her memory served her right, then those were the exact same boys she saw loitering around the alarm. The shortest one with a bandana stalked up to the front, head bobbing with self-assured arrogance. His hollow eyes stared at her with mild interest before they hardened when Escalante came into his view.

“Kimo,” he drawled. “Who’s the freshie?” The languid demeanor gave away his stoned state. Vianne made a subconscious step away from him and his pals, eyeing them warily through her glasses. He smirked, showing off a row of white teeth, seemingly glad at her reaction.

“You’re late, Chuco.” To her side, Escalante came into the conversation. “Vianne’s your new TA and I need you to sit your ass on a seat.”

Chuco gave a slighted look her way before he sauntered past her to the back, followed by his buddies. Vianne didn’t realize how tall the teen she saw through the window was until she was mere inches away from him. Dressed in an oversized bomber jacket and jeans too big for his waist, the towering youth could easily pass as a man in his twenties. A good feet taller than her would be a low estimation. 

What on earth are his parents feeding him?! 

Vianne stared straight on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing her discomfort. Like Chuco, he also paid her no attention as he strolled next to the ‘leader’, plopping down on the desk in a bored manner. 

It made sense that Escalante would want their homework as well, so she made a begrudging advance in their direction. Her feet padded across the room, drilling needles of dread into her legs with each stride.

“I need your homework, please.” Vianne tried to sound as polite as possible. But the grinding of teeth made it hard to sound sweet. 

Chuco leered. “Ain’t got no homework, chica. Do the problems in ma head.”

One didn’t need a degree in astrophysics to know he was messing with her. Vianne grinned a little too forcefully and sighed. “Fine. Please turn to page fifteen and work on problems one through ten.”

She walked over to his tall companion, prepared for another unpleasant conversation. “Homework, please.”

The young man proceeded to pull his beanie lower over his ears. At that, Vianne was millimeters away from flipping her shit. Did the blockhead not comprehend? Or was he messing with her, too? Her father did say that certain people around the area couldn’t speak English, so she tried to push the excuse in a better light. Maybe he really didn’t understand her.

“Give me your tarea, por favor?” She tried to remember the basic Spanish from her previous encounters. But her knowledge decided to ditch her last minute. “Uh, Speak Ingles?”

He looked at her, eyes wide with what she hoped was understanding, and his lips twitched. Then his brows joined in, before he busted out laughing. Chuco howled along with him, slapping him on the shoulders with glee. 

“Sometimes,” the tall youth answered. He smirked, tilting his head in her direction. Vianne balled her hands into fists as she watched on. The tips of her ears burned with a passion.

“Orale Angel!” Chuco high-fived him hard. “Nice one!” The duo continued their chorus of laughter, completely oblivious to the subject of their jest.

Vianne wished that turning invisible was a possible feat. It was adamantly clear that this was going to be a long year. The storm inside her grew, barely holding the thunders at bay.

:

:

A/N: As per usual, shoutout to @classic80sand90smovieloves2 for encouraging and helping me get over writers block and whatnot ;)

[agentrouka-blog]

What do you think the wall will fall out? Do you think it would be horn of joramun?

I don’t know. I don’t really care..? My main concern with the Ice Threat is that the point of it will be extremely different from the show. The solution will not be battle or killing. It will be negotiation. And it doesn’t really matter where it takes place or if/when/why the Wall falls, exactly. The Wall is only a bandaid.

The original Long Night was unrelated to any direct cause we know of. It happened after the Pact on the Gods Eye and before the Andal Invasion that saw the South ravaged for the weirdwoods and Children of the Forest. What caused it?

But we know that the rise of the dragonlords in Old Valyria was definitely tied to slavery and dark magic. Dany uses the wrongest means possible (war, conquest, queenship) to recover something personal she longs for: a home. And she haggles with bloodmagic over Drogo’s death and loses big time, and then turns it around into trading lives for something monstrous: her dragons. That’s her magic sword. 

Then she haggles again for the Unsullied, a trick trade. One dragon for an army of human quasi-zombies. She “frees” them, but has only one purpose for them: dracarys dracarys, dracarys. 

It’s not an accident that the White Walkers and the wights bear some anviliously parallels to the Unsullied. 

The Other said something in a language that Will did not know; his voice was like the cracking of ice on a winter lake, and the words were mocking.  (AGOT, Prologue)

It mirrors:

"Tell the Westerosi whore to lower her eyes," the slaver Kraznys mo Nakloz complained to the slave girl who spoke for him. "I deal in meat, not metal. The bronze is not for sale. Tell her to look at the soldiers. Even the dim purple eyes of a sunset savage can see how magnificent my creatures are, surely."

Kraznys's High Valyrian was twisted and thickened by the characteristic growl of Ghis, and flavored here and there with words of slaver argot. Dany understood him well enough, but she smiled and looked blankly at the slave girl, as if wondering what he might have said. (ASOS, Daenerys II)

The Others take Craster’s boys, the slavers take young boys. There are significant sons.

"The boy's brothers," said the old woman on the left. "Craster's sons. The white cold's rising out there, crow. I can feel it in my bones. These poor old bones don't lie. They'll be here soon, the sons." (ASOS, Samwell II)

It mirrors:

Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. "Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him."

Yet her words did not move the plump perfumed slaver, even when rendered in his own ugly tongue. "Old Ghis ruled an empire when the Valyrians were still fucking sheep," he growled at the poor little scribe, "and we are the sons of the harpy." (ASOS, Daenerys II)

The Starks only came into prominence after the Long Night, involved in building the Wall and Winterfell, the latter of which is now in ruins like Old Valyria. Clearly, they mirror the dragonlords in some way, just like Jon mirrors Dany in many ways. Maybe they were the good guys, or maybe they did what Dany did: create an imperfect solution, play a trick, some kind of stalemate that made them expect a return of the Others, made the Wall necessary in the first place.

I think the source of the Others might be someone’s personal wrath, like Dany’s. Because there’s Cersei “re-creating” the Faith Militant, there is Stannis aiming the red god at his enemies, and there is Lady Stoneheart aiming the remnants of the Brotherhood without Banners at those who wronged her.

"The harpy is a craven thing," Daario Naharis said when he saw it. "She has a woman's heart and a chicken's legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls." (ASOS, Daenerys V)

A woman’s heart, her sons behind Walls, and they kill you in the dark if you venture past.

The Sons of the Harpy did their butchery by night, and over each kill they left their mark. (ADWD, Daenerys I)

Butchering by night. Like the wights. Like the nightfires. Like Lady Stoneheart’s “trials”. The importance of memory connects them.

To the boy she said, "Treasure that tokar, for it saved your life. You are only a boy, so we will forget what happened here. You should do the same." But as he left the boy looked back over his shoulder, and when she saw his eyes Dany thought, The Harpy has another Son. (ADWD, Daenerys I)

And..

"She don't speak," said the big man in the yellow cloak. "You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers." 

(ASOS, Epilogue)

And...

The Nightfort had figured in some of Old Nan's scariest stories. It was here that Night's King had reigned, before his name was wiped from the memory of man. (ASOS, Bran IV)

But not the memory of women, judging by Old Nan.

He never was. He was a Stark, the brother of the man who brought him down." She always pinched Bran on the nose then, he would never forget it. "He was a Stark of Winterfell, and who can say? Mayhaps his name was Brandon. Mayhaps he slept in this very bed in this very room."

(ASOS, Bran IV)

Brandon Stark, name of names. Beloved son.

Reluctantly, she let go of them in her heart. But not Bran. Never Bran. "Yes," she said, "but please, Ned, for the love you bear me, let Bran remain here at Winterfell. He is only seven." (AGOT, Catelyn II)

Never letting go of Bran. Now waging vengeful war for Robb. 

But the solution is not killing.

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman's pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon? (ADWD, Daenerys II)

Killing the sons of the sons of the sons is not going to do anything. They rise and rise again.

Dany haggled for the Unsullied. She traded for them. A dragon. For all of them. But she never fixed what was wrong, she just turned them around to kill for her and the slaves became the slavers. They are making new Unsullied of the sons of the slavers. Just like the Others have been making new wights, and are marching south again.

Maybe an undead dragon will destroy the Wall like on the show. (metaphor for Jon?) Or maybe they will end up choosing to blow the Horn of Joramun to make the actual solution possible. “If I look back, I am lost” is the wrong path, so they will need to recover the lost Memory of the Long Night, and fix things.

Whatever Brandon Stark will do, it will involve negotiation, haggling and - if the problem is to be truly fixed, an honorable trade. If he trades a dragon, then Jon is that dragon. But if he trades “the only cow he owns”, it might be something else. Maybe his magical ability, his warging, his “wings”. The way Drogon is Dany’s wings. Because Bran is mourning, too. Bran traded his dreams for great powers, too.

"A knight is what you want. A warg is what you are. You can't change that, Bran, you can't deny it or push it away. You are the winged wolf, but you will never fly." Jojen got up and walked to the window. "Unless you open your eye." He put two fingers together and poked Bran in the forehead, hard. (ACOK, Bran V)

He wanted to be a knight. He loved to climb.

"You will never walk again, Bran," the pale lips promised, "but you will fly." ADWD, Bran II)

But he will fly. The bird mentor says so. But bird mentors are bad news. Littlefinger. Ygritte (egret). Griff. They all want to force their dreams on you, they all will ask you to sacrifice the innocent.

"You will never walk again," the three-eyed crow had promised, "but you will fly." (ADWD, Bran III)

But may he shouldn’t fly. Maybe he should not warg. The animals fight it. The people fight it more. It’s an invasion, an assault. It is only ever a shared experience with their bonded wolves. Perhaps wargs are rightfully viewed with suspicion?

Maybe when he accepts his loss, like Cat will have to, like Dany should have done… something will be worked out. The magic will whither away, the seasons will return to normal. The Stark will be “like other men”. They will need no Wall. Maybe they will need no “Stark in Winterfell”. A castle rebuilt from Snow. And a king in the South.

[seeds-and-sins]

F**kin’ Diabolical (Chapter 4)

Master List

Pairing: Homelander / Original Female Character, Billy Butcher / Original Female Character

Rating: M (Strong language, sexual themes)

Decription: Carly Danvers is a reporter/radio show host/annoying little piece of- For reasons unknown to Vought, she decided to start a one man investigation on Vought’s operation. Her efforts had been quite successful so far, so much so that Stillwell would have done anything to see the young girl dead. Turns out Stillwell didn’t have to do anything at all, while one piece of evidence against Vought causes Danvers to fly too close to the sun. And Homelander flies after her.

Chapter Summary; Homelander didn’t realize that getting Carly to the Vought tower was only half the battle.

Her apartment complex was small, but in a cozy kind of way. She got lucky with the expanse of square footage the landlord had offered her, considering that she had seen other apartments and hers was the biggest in the building. At first, it was all concrete floors, scratchy wall paper, and a broken sliding glass door onto the balcony, but once she started making more money, renovations came into play. With Carly’s creative expertise, the place was a fun house in not time.

   The floors now were sandalwood and the walls painted a darker beige, where the longest wall was left a solid white, covered in doodles and painted pictures that she had spent hours on. She opened up the room to expand the windows out, now they spanned around a corner of the living room. The living room opened up at the entrance, where an L-shaped sectional with brown leather graced her guests as they entered. Off to their left would be a wall with an entertainment center and a flat screen tv, to their right the crimson granite counter tops that stood with bar stools, on the other side a kitchen of that counter. Aside from the hallway that led to her room, her apartment was fairly open, lots of seating areas because she liked variety. There were bean bags and stools for her bar, which had an array of liquors that she had saved up over the years. Her kitchen was closed in by the counter, an island in the center, with a dual sided refrigerator that she also had worked her ass off to get. 

  It was fairly lit, but sometimes she liked to dim the lights and turn on a flashlight to read her books with, as she cuddled into a giant bean bag. In her bedroom was a king sized bed, with tons of pillows, that was her favorite part of the apartment. She often drew pictures and played on her guitar in there, that was her safe space, where no one could bother her. 

    Across from her lived a rough looking, older man by the name of Billy Butcher. He was rowdy, single, and he had the cutest dog she had ever seen. They didn't spend time together or anything, but they certainly talked more with each other than they did with the other residents. Down the hall was a fresh frat boy/jock, and across from him was a single mother and her two kids. Billy and Carly felt more alike, more drawn to each other, so whenever they just so happened to cross paths they would share a few words. 

"Ey, I listened to your show today, definitely sticking one up to those cunts."

"Right?! They deserve it." They both shared laughs, cracked jokes, were extremely profane, and even a little too open with each other at times. Carly and Butch were similar in that they didn't have a sensor, so God forbid the two of them were ever together for a few minutes in passing. That poor mother had to shield her childrens’ ears in the elevator more than a few times. 

"Can you bloody believe that they even stretch that far?"

"I don't even want to imagine that happening to anyone, not even me."

"Well, its a bloody process I am sure..." Naturally, as they crossed paths, the two of them spoke that night before she went to the lab. She was grabbing a few things, Allen and the Doctor waiting outside in the car. As she shut her door, jiggling the key with a twist, jacket slung over her shoulder, he was also exiting his apartment. 

"Oh, well, what do you know? My favorite celebrity." He teased, she faced him with a grin and an eye roll. 

"Oh look, my favorite asshat." She mocked in the worst cockney accent she could muster.

"You shut your pretty mouth there, those are fighting words." They started towards the elevator with laughter bubbling up from them, cheeks rosy, God it would be a sickening sight to anyone. The two of them were like peas in a pod, munchkins, cuddle buddies or some shit like that. "So, where are ya' off to tonight?" He pressed the button to the elevator for her.

"Some stupid shit with Vought, you know me."

"I like stupid shit. Does it have anything to do with your show this evening?" The doors slid open with a ding. 

"Sure does, between you and me..." She came in closer to whisper into his ear, exhaling a giddy giggle behind a cupped hand. "I am breaking into a Vought Lab." He smirked, shaking his head, but never in disapproval as much as it was at the ridiculous stunts she'd pull. The door slid shut, the both of them now completely alone in an elevator. Nothing much different than the hundreds of times before.

"You think you'd have any time for drinks afterwards?" She blushed at the question, just drinks, right? No, she felt like the question was more than that and the way he awkwardly leaned on the elevator wall, said so much. As if he was nervous she would say no, or something worse. 

"I'd love to, but I don't know when I will be back." He nodded his head, fiddling with his thumbs out in front of him. "But hey, how bout tomorrow for sure?" His face lit up with that shit-eating grin of his. 

"Yeah, I'd like that." The elevator doors dinged open, but Billy didn't make a move when Carly stepped from the elevator. She faced him with her own grin and smiled, he waved at her. "You be careful there, sweetheart, some of us like seeing your ugly face every day." As the doors slowly began to close she stuck her middle finger up at him, and he stuck his tongue out. Children at best, that's always what it seemed like when they were together. When he was gone and they were apart, always after seeing each other, Carly felt empty almost, like she was missing out. She always shoved that away.

"Ms. Danvers! Are you going to answer me?!" An aggravated Madelyn shot out from across the desk, Carly blinked her eyes, coming to from her daze. She met Stillwell's steely gaze, Homelander pacing around the desk, eyes targeted on Carly in some threatening fashion. 

"W-What-What did you ask again?" Madelyn groaned, straightening herself and plastering a fake smile onto her lips, she crossed her fingers over the desk. 

"Did anybody else know you were going to the lab last night?" She stated more firmly, pronouncing each word with venomous emphasis, as if she was talking to a three year old child.

"No." Carly responded instantly, perhaps too soon, as Homelander's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. He was surprised. Carly had always been fairly good at lying to him, better than most, but she was in an emotional vulnerable state, not on her A game truly. Madelyn rolled her eyes and then sat back in her seat, arms crossed.

"You do know the position, you've put me in, right?" Carly sighed, shakily holding her hands on her lap, she gulped. 

"Look, I just want to get back to normal." 

"Back to normal?" Madelyn chuckled at the thought, she stood up and waltzed around the desk over to the window that spanned the wall of her office. Homelander stopped pacing at the other side of the room, still watching Carly like a hawk. "You are as powerful as Homelander now, Danvers, there is no normal for you ever again." She twisted in her seat to consider Madelyn with sorrow filled eyes, and Homelander couldn't hide his deep huff of amusement. Carly tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill, she had never felt so weak or insignificant in front of anybody before. Heck, she'd stand up to Homelander any day before this shit happened. Now she wanted to hide in a cave and wallow in her own self pity.

"Maybe there is a way, right? The doctor told me its genetic modification, all we have to do is convert my DNA back to what it was officially."

"But you would die." Homelander said with sardonic glimmer in his tone, he shuffled around the coffee table and plopped down onto the couch. His arm rose up, spanning the length of the back rest. He held his other gloved hand up, crushing his fist into a ball. "It blows my mind that you would want to be normal again, Carly. You have all the power in the world-"

"And I don't want it." She shot out, frustration taking residence over the desperation and she stood. She held her palms out and shook her head. "This isn't who I am. I am a simple girl, made of flesh and bone, nothing more." Homelander opened his mouth to reply, but Stillwell beat him to it. 

"You are right, you are absolutely right. And I might just have some options for you, Danvers." Madelyn paraded back over to her desk, perhaps she was having more fun with this than she expected she would. When Homelander told her about Carly’s situation, Stillwell was pissed beyond explanation. Here she was wanting the girl dead, and now the only person that could truly make that decision themselves was Homelander. Madelyn knew Homelander wouldn’t kill Carly, at least not without riding this high first.

"I have two options for you..."

"I don't have time for games. This isn't a joke." Stillwell laughed, leaning onto her desk with one hand, the other propped on her hip. 

"I'm not so excited about this either, but this might just be good for us."

"Whatever you have to say, it better not be what I think it is."

"It better be what I think." Homelander stood, soon coming to stand alongside Carly with that grin. 

"Option one," She placed a hand on her chest, "My preference..." She added slyly, and then, "We pretend you died from the fire, get you a nice place in Alaska and you live the rest of your days in solitude." Stillwell patiently waited, as if there wasn't a second option, and if there was she definitely didn't want Carly to have the ability to choose.

"What's the second option?" Homelander's voice was all too solid, glaring at Stillwell, forcing her to procure that second option like her life depended on it. It probably did. 

"Alright," Stillwell sighed, "We make you a hero. You denounce your previous claims against Vought and in return you live more famous than you've ever imagined." Since Carly woke up that morning, there was a stray thought that constantly teased to slip past her lips. The knowledge that she had against Vought, she could fight them, and now, more powerful than ever, she could fight them hard. Compound V was real, she was proof of that, all the heroes were. The compound injected into babies as if they were lab rats, the thought made her sick. She was reminded of why she was here, how she ended up in that lab. Now being offered a chance to be one of them, knowing all the cruel things they've done, if anything it made her heart race. 

   Homelander must have felt it too. The feeling made her want to do something but she didn't even know what. Impulses working through her mind, the need to just jump out that window, the realization that nothing can kill her now. Perhaps Homelander, but still. The options before her, and she had always been one to make an option three, to force it. Now there was no choice, one or the other, they say. Homelander’s hand landed on her shoulder and he laughed, harshly patting her on the back, a pat that would have anybody else coughing up their broken bones. 

"She'll do it, option two. She'll be wonderful!"

"I would like her to say it." Stillwell didn't like the feeling of not having control. Although for so long Homelander had been loose, the reins were gone, this was still different. She hated knowing that Homelander wanted Carly around and that she couldn't do anything about it. 

"Okay." Carly found herself choking out, despite her better judgment. She didn't know what logic came with the response, but she knew that it felt sound. Like something was in her path, something big, like it was worth it, like the universe was talking to her. 

"Perfect." Homelander said with such joy in his voice, now both hands on her shoulders, massaging at her neck. She closed her eyes and allowed him to shake her forward and backward for a moment. 

"I will work with my marketing team. Until then, Homelander can keep an eye on you." Stillwell hated that too, but the girl had zero to no control over her powers. Carly could destroy this whole building and without Homelander around, there would be no one to stop her.

"I've been waiting for this moment. So exciting..." Both women glared at each other, both for different reasons. "And I have already picked a name." Stillwell crossed her arms, cocking her head at Homelander, trying to hide the agitation surging through her. The level of absolute excitement he was feeling struck a nerve in Stillwell, the hero was crossing a big line.

"Oh, you have, have you?"

"Lady Liberty." He held his hands up like the name was gospel, like it was the most obvious name, the most fantastic name. Carly admitted to herself the fact that he even thought of a name was extremely unsettling, like this had been his plan all along. "Come on guys, get with the program." He waltzed over to the office door, now fixed after yesterday's door slamming incident. He waited, gesturing to Carly as he motioned out the door. "Let's go. Come on, the more we wait, the less time you have to learn those new powers of yours." Carly didn't think she'd ever beg in her life, but as she left Stillwell's office, that last glance to Stillwell was full of silent, raw begging. The last person she'd thought she'd ever beg for help, beg for a plan, beg for safety from him. But both of them knew, Homelander was not letting Carly go anytime soon. Carly made her choice, the moment she entered that lab.