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matryosika · 2 years

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Day 1: Age gap + Impregnation with Chan.

Wordcount — 2,406 words.

Includes — Age gap (male character is at least 10 year's older than reader, who is described to be in her mid twenties. No exact ages are discussed). Babysitter!reader, single dad!Chan, use of the word "daddy" once but it is not used as a petname nor it's part of the dynamic between reader and male character, dirty talk, oral sex (m. receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, impregnation kink, creampie, themes of pregnancy.

Author's note — If you have been following me for a while, you know this is one of my most dominant kinks. So I just had to! The wordcount is longer than it should be, but I hope that's not an issue! Also, I know this was supposed to be day number 2 instead of 1, but I had my reasons to reschedule 😭 I will be posting mirror sex + praise kink with changbin later on though!

“This is wrong,” Chan mutters through gritted teeth while his eyes are all over you, admiring the way your tongue swirls around his hard and veiny cock. You suck on it like it’s your

favorite candy, like you have been craving it for ages.

Truth is, you do have been craving it ever since you met him.

“Is it?” you ask him, pulling his cock out of your mouth with a lewd sound. The drool on your chin and the string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his reddened cock is making him rethink his last words. Is it really wrong? How can it, when it feels this right?

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he replies. Ironically enough, he does so while guiding your lips back to the tip of his cock, pushing your head down on it. “You shouldn’t be doing this”.

Your teary eyes look up to him while having his cock deep inside your throat and the filthy image makes Chan’s heart race. He keeps your head in place for a couple of seconds before allowing you to gasp for air, coughing when you are finally able to breath.

“Do you want me to leave, Mr. Bang?” you query, feigning innocence. Your eyes are wide open and clouded with tears, there’s drool on your chin and the way you mockingly smile while asking such a question, all-together, makes Chan even harder.

He doesn't answer, but his cock twitches visible in front of your eyes. It’s hard not to notice when all you can do is stare at it; it’s thick, reddened and there are several, prominent veins that start at the base and fade away near the tip.

He really is nothing like the men your age you’ve fucked before.

“You know what I want,” he purrs, caressing your hair while you are still kneeling in front of him. “But I don’t think it’s right”.

“Why not?” you pout. “Because I’m too young for you?”

Chan shouldn’t feel aroused when he is reminded of it, but he does. You are a legal, independent adult, old enough to have a job and a place of your own —still, you are too young for someone like him. You should be fucking men your age, dating them and having all these sort of experiences Chan lived a while back.

But men your age are not really something you are into these days.

“Don’t do this to me,” he hisses, pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “Don’t tempt me”.

“You did this to yourself, Mr. Bang,” you murmur, eyes fixed on his. “Had you been a decent man, none of this would be happening”.

He knows you are teasing him, as the bratty woman you are, but he can’t help but feel anger lingering inside his guts. Is he really the only one to blame? Had he minded his own business and stopped staring at the young babysitter that works for him in a perverse way, would things be different?

“Had you not offered yourself to me so easily, none of this would be happening,” he corrects you, cupping your cheeks with one of his hands. “Talking about decency as if your cunt isn't dripping every time I am around”.

He forces you to stand up from your knees, still cupping your face with his hand harshly. He sneaks the other one between your thighs and underneath your skirt, scoffing bitterly when the tip of his digits touch the wet patch on your underwear.

Far from making you feel embarrassed by proving his point, you come up with something to tease Chan even more.

“It’s just human nature,” you whisper, licking your lips when you feel him lazily tracing your slit. “You have something I need, and I am capable of giving you what you want in return”.

Chan’s breath hitches when you say that.

“I know what you want,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on your parted lips. “But what is that thing you can offer me?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and smile when you feel his toned body tensing at your touch. The amount of power Chan has over you it’s pathetic, but neither of you can deny that you have equal or more power over him.

“Remember that time you invited Mr. Kim for dinner?” you query, brushing your lips against his without actually leaning forward for a kiss. Chan is taken aback from the unexpected topic of conversation that is rising, but he follows you.

“I do”.

“You two were drunk and making a lot of noise,” you continue, your hands caressing his neck. “Little Chris was sleeping soundly and the last thing I wanted was for him to wake up in the middle of the night, so I tried to ask you to lower your voice”.

“What does that have to do with this?,” Chan clears his throat, his heart racing at a thousand miles per hour as memories of that night make their way to his mind.

“You don’t remember what you told Mr. Kim?” you ask him, tilting your head while your gaze flutters between his eyes and lips. “About how bad you wanted to be a father again?”

His insides sink when he hears those words falling from your lips, and your initial proposition now makes sense: He has something you need, and you are capable of giving him what he wants in return.

“I don’t know why, but I haven’t stopped thinking about that ever since,” you confess, pressing your body tightly against his. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you filling me up with your cum, every hour of every day”.

It’s impossible, but Chan can’t feel himself growing even harder at your words. His cock is brushing against your body and, although you are not touching it, the simple brush of it against your skirt is enough to have him on edge.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about letting you fuck me raw, especially on days like these” you breathe, “because that’s what you want, right?”

You know you have found his weakness when his jaw tenses and the sentiment in his gaze drifts from guilt to lust. The arm he had around your waist pushes you into the bed and, only then, you can truly admire him —he is still wearing his buttoned white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his belt unbuckled and his pants are lowered enough for his cock to be out. It doesn’t seem like he has any interest in removing his clothes, but neither do you.

You are both too aroused and desperate to pay attention to such details.

“Just an advice,” he mutters, positioning himself on top of you. His hands lift your skirt up and he loses no time in ripping your panties off, throwing the remains of them to the side and leaving your pussy exposed for him. “Next time, watch your words when I am around you”.

The teasing smirk in your face fades away completely when his dick stretches your cunt without a warning, feeling the pressure between your legs escalating as he pushes himself deeper in you.

“Chan!” you gasp, your hands gripping the sleeves of his white shirt while he bottoms out.

“Are you sure you can give me what I want?” he groans through gritted teeth, controlling himself from blowing up the minute your walls clench around him. “You can’t take my cock without whining”.

“It has been a while since the last time I fucked,” you cry out, digging your nails in his biceps. You are sure you want him, but you perhaps underestimated how rough and painful taking someone as big as Chan could be.

“I can tell from how fucking tight you are,” he hisses, thrusting his hips slowly but harshly inside you. “Your body is practically begging for me to fill you up with my cum”.

When his hips acquire a pace of their own, his hands push your legs further until your knees are almost sided to your breasts. The position you are in now, if anything, only allows himself to go deeper inside you, which is exactly what he wants.

“You know, I haven’t come in a while either, didn’t want it to go to waste by jerking off,” he groans, words coming out faintly broken as he pounds your pussy mercilessly. “You can just imagine how badly I need a release”.

Chan’s words make the tension on your tummy unravel while the tip of his cock hits that sweet, perfect spot inside your walls. The hidden promise behind his words, that he has all of his cum saved up especially for your sweet cunt, drives you to the edge.

“Are you going to give it to me?” you sob. Far from sounding cocky or teasing, your voice has a tone of despair that makes Chan fuck you faster. He knows you aren’t asking that to provoke him, but because that’s exactly what your body and mind need.

“If you beg for it,” he grunts. “If you prove to me you deserve it”.

The dirty talk does wonders on you and he notices it when his cock slides perfectly inside you. Your cunt is wet, and warm, and so slippery that Chan utterly believes your body is begging for him to impregnate it.

“Please,” you cry out, your trembling hands trying to grip anything from him but failing because of how numb they feel. “Mr. Bang, please!”

When you moan his last name, Chan’s movements become rougher.

“I know you can do better for me,” he murmurs in your ear, a few strokes away from blowing up but still determined to make you come first. “Don’t make me think you don’t want it”.

“No, fuck! I-,” you try to form a coherent sentence, but the way he is thrusting his cock inside you doesn’t help. “I need it, I really do”.

“Do you really need to please me this badly?” he moans. “Willing to let me fill you up until I get you pregnant?”

“Please!” you whimper and, judged by the way your walls spasm around him, Chan quickly realizes you are about to come. “Please, please, please”.

“Make me come then,” he growls in despair, “show me how much you think you deserve me to make you a mother”.

It’s that last sentence that pushes you to your orgasm. Your hands are glued to his white shirt, gripping it while waves of pleasure wash up over your body with no end.

“Right there,” you moan, eyes white and lips parted, allowing the lewdest of noises to fall from them. Chan doesn’t slow down, and that causes your body to tremble and your legs to try and close together, but he is quick to keep them in place.

“Keep them wide open for me,” he hisses with broken words. “Don’t want my cum dripping out of your pussy because you are closing your legs together, do you?”

You shake your head enthusiastically, albeit your body feels weak. The climax is still wreaking havoc inside you, but you know the painful stimulation won’t last long —you are just a few seconds away from getting away with what you have been craving for months.

“Let me feel you,” you beg when he presses his forehead against yours. You are both sweaty, and the clothes aren’t doing you any favors, but wearing them still makes the two of you feel even filthier —him in his office clothes while you are wearing a short skirt and a top that traces the silhouette of your breasts perfectly. “Come inside me, I promise I won’t waste it”.

“I know you won’t,” he grunts, his hitched breath caressing your face. “I’ll make sure of it”.

He kisses you sloppily, tongue sucking on yours while his hips lose their acquired pace. All the ounce of control in his body vanishes once his orgasm is approaching, and you can tell by how he turns ten times more primal than he already is.

“Then come inside me,” you whimper, breaking the kiss just for the sake of hearing him moan. “You are going to come a lot, right? Make sure you milk yourself inside my cunt?”

Chan, who had been carrying the dirty talk up until now, doesn’t answer. And not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t —you and your words are overwhelming him to the point of losing his senses, the only thing in his mind being fulfilling his natural desire to leave his seed inside you.

“Fuck-” his voice quivers and your insides sink —he sounds needy and desperate to come like it’s the thing he craves the most in the world.

“I’m ready,” you purr, hissing in overstimulation. “I promise I’ll be really good. I’ll carry your baby and will make you a daddy again, don’t you want that?”

The dirtier you talk, the louder he growls. And the more you tease him, the more he loses control.

“Please,” you murmur in between moans, “you know how fertile a woman in her mid 20’s is, Mr. Bang? I bet you would only need to fuck me once for me to get pregnant, that’s how good I could be for a man like you”.

A warm sensation quickly floods your lower abdomen and Chan’s movements slow down gradually, accompanied by guttural, quiet groans he emits every time he feels the spark of overstimulation.

His dark, lustful eyes are fixed on you and, suddenly, you run out of words. You are both panting, trying to recover their sanity and breath, hearts racing at a thousand mile per hour while he is still deep inside you, cock softening as the seconds go by.

Chan, once again, pushes your knees further and fixes the position you were in, exaggerating it a bit by lifting your hips up even more —although he pulled his cock out of you, his semen isn’t dripping out of your pussy and you quickly realize that he is putting you in that position to prevent that from happening.

He leans down and kisses your forehead, leaving you to stare at the sinful sight: your swollen and wet cunt up in the air, in an awkward position that it’s as filthy as the words that you both shared a few moments ago.

“I guess we would have to see if you are right about that”.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bangchan smut #bang chan smut #chan smut

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istanmyman · 9 months

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Ghost gets Amnesia (Part 1/2)

What if Ghost got injured on a mission and has amnesia as a result?

I think with Ghost that he would feel better having forgotten his terrible past. He suddenly wakes up in a hospital bed, head aching and feeling on high alert. Where is he? What is he doing here?

His body has learned to tense up and prepare for the worst over the years, but it never comes. People claiming to be his colleagues and friends come to take care of him while he has apparently forgotten his whole life. It's easier to open up after having forgotten why he keeps his distance in the first place.

His captain, John Price, is a caring man who clearly wants him to feel at home at the military base he works and lives at. Laswell has been checking up on him frequently and both her and Price have filled him in on his job and the secrecy surrounding his identity.

It sounds surreal, but so does everything else feel around him. Gaz or rather Kyle, has been a huge help, checking up on him frequently to see if he's physically but also mentally doing okay.

The man is calm and subtle with his jokes, can be a sarcastic prick too from time to time. Not that Simon minds since he finds Kyle's quips quite amusing. Gaz helps him settle, Price grounds him, reminds him that this is his home.

Then there's John or rather 'Soap'.

While Kyle is calm and easygoing with his interactions, John is the complete opposite; a whirlwind of emotions. A man without boundaries. Soap isn't careful at all with him, doesn't treat him like a patient like the others do. He almost immediately pats Simon on the back and shoulder, is sarcastic and jokes a lot, makes fun of him (not in a mean way) and is so open about the memories they share and what he thinks of him.

Almost immediately the man had asked to be called Johnny, cus that's what Simon apparently always calls him. It's different and raw and each interaction claws at him. Johnny makes him wants to remember all that he's forgotten even though deep down he knows that no happy memories are waiting for him.

There's something about the man that pulls him in and makes him feel so seen and cared about. It's maddening not to know how deep their relationship runs because soap is dropping hints left and right that he cares about Simon, probably a bit TOO much.

And Simon comes to care a bit too much for Johnny too. He doesn't remember his time in the military, doesn't remember why he decided to wear the mask, doesn't remember why he should keep his distance so he doesn't. With every hint Johnny drops he walks right in, returns the advances and makes it obvious that he's interested too.

And then they kiss one day, when Simon has barely remembered a thing yet besides vague recollections of gunfire, passing feelings and pain, but most importantly: Johnny. Always by his side, calling him Lt, having his six, smiling brightly, humoring his jokes and quiping back with a playfulness Simon adores.

It's late and they're alone, sparring on the mats when Soap pins him down and asks him to yield with a wide grin. Simon grins back, visibly as he has taken off his mask, not caring about wearing the fabric around Soap. "Only if you kiss me, Johnny." He says and Johnny loses his smile. Instead his eyes spark with a hopeful look. "You mean that?" he says with a hitched breath.

Simon chuckles. "Wouldn't say it if I wasn't." For a split second Simon fears that he's gone too far, has asked for something he shouldn't have, doubt still a part of him he can't get rid of, but John eases his worries as he presses his lips against Simon in what feels like a desperate kiss. Like he's wanted to do this for so long, like he's held back his whole life. The grip on Simon is released as he feels tears fall on his face.

John pulls back, teary eyed and smiling. He looks so happy, but why is he crying? "Johnny-" "-Sorry." Soap says as he sits up and wipes his tears. "God, I didn't think-, I thought-, I don't know." He let's out a wet chuckle. "I missed you...and us."

Oh. Simon realises now why John got emotional. It seems they did have something going on before he lost his memories.

"Sorry." John apologises again. "Don't apologise. Never apologise." Simon says as he pulls John in and rests their foreheads together. "I'm sorry I forgot okay? I noticed its been hard on all of you. Especially you, Johnny." He says and wipes away another one of Johnny's tears.

"I don't remember us being together, but I guess I got to fall in love with you a second time." Simon smiles and so does Johnny at those words. "Seems like you can't handle my charm, Lt." Simon chuckles. "Seems so."

Simon presses a kiss to John's cheek. "Forgetting us is what bothers me the most, but I'll remember some day again, all the time we spend together. I just need a bit more time."

"Or you don't remember." Johnny offers. "You told me that you've seen some shit. Things no person should. You told me it changed you and haunts you till this very day. Although it hurt to see you look at me like I'm a stranger, I'd rather have that than see the pain in your eyes every day. We could start over again. You could start over again."

"I don't have to start over. I know that if I remember that hell, that you'll be right there with me, holding my hand and catching me when I'm about to fall. You always got my six, right?"

"I do." Johnny quickly agrees. "I always got your six."

And then, just a few days later, Simon remembers everything again. The pain of his past, but also the friendship he shares with the other task force members. They are his family now, and Johnny? Johnny is the love of his life, his Sergeant that he fell for twice.

After he remembered again, it's much easier for Simon to open up to the other task force members, from private to captain, and the feeling is likewise. Forgetting has made him a lot more approachable and Simon hasn't forgotten the kindness shown by his team, even those he wasn't that close with.

It's easier to crack a smile now and those who were worried are beyond relieved. Worry was it that Simon would have a hard time remembering his past and although Ghost is back to being a strict lieutenant, a force on the battlefield and wearing his mask both day and night again, it seems they have been worrying over nothing.

Especially Johnny, who is glad that he got his lover back, doing better than he was before. Even though it hurt that Simon forgot him for a while, seeing the man for who he truly was inside and without painful memories plaguing him, was truly a brief blessing.

And Simon falling in love with him twice? Its a compliment that has him blushing and smiling whenever he thinks about it.

- End part 1 of 2

In the next part I'll explain my thoughts on what I think Soap having temporary amnesia would entail! Hope you guys are excited for that!

#doki writes #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #mw2 fanfic

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midnightrings · 4 months

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Still trying to collect my thoughts after watching the final episode, but here’s some stuff I’ve been thinking about while watching it.

(spoilers, obviously)

I really, really loved Hawk and Tim’s dynamic in the 50s scenes (and 80s scenes too, of course, but we’ll get to that). I feel like this was also a point in their lives where there was at least a slight chance that they could’ve made it work – until Hawk screwed it up again. They’ve both clearly grown (especially Tim), their relationship appears quite well-balanced and there wasn’t that much baggage between them yet.

Looks like they kept a good amount from the book. Hawk did report Tim, preventing him from getting his dream job as well as barring him from government work altogether. Similar to what I suspected, Lucy was pregnant and Hawk realized that he needed Tim out of his life. It was overall awful but not as bad as I expected – though maybe only because I already knew it would happen.

It’s heartbreaking how Tim has realized time and time again that he needs to let Hawk go – including writing that letter to him, which I guess Hawk never found out about. Tim even told him that there were no expectations on his part, yet Hawk desperately wanted him in his life, only to push him away in the most horrible way shortly after it.

At least Tim did know the truth and, surprisingly, Hawk let him know himself (through Mary). I really thought Tim would find out about it sometime before ’86. It makes a lot of sense though, considering the scene of Tim in the hospital, watching baby Jackson. Tim clearly realized himself that he doesn’t have a place in Hawk’s life. This explains why Tim was constantly urging Hawk to be there for his family, but also why he wasn’t as hostile towards Hawk as he should have been. I mean, there was definitely some resentment on Tim’s part after ’57, but it wasn’t as big as I expected it to be after Hawk’s betrayal – which is why I always assumed Tim didn’t know the truth. But while Tim might have felt betrayed by Hawk’s actions, he probably did understand his reasoning in the end. Which makes it even sadder, because Hawk could have easily talked to him – perhaps Tim would’ve left by himself, realizing that working together would not end well for either of them.

Now, the 80s … I really love how we finally saw more affection between Hawk and Tim. I got teary eyed (while simultaneously having the biggest smile on my face) when Hawk lay down next to him in the hospital bed – this was so sweet and I was hoping for a moment like this. As I said before, I don’t mind that Hawk never told Tim that he loved him – even though I’ve been hoping it would happen at some point. But I feel like there wasn’t a point where a love declaration like this would have fit in, and Hawk kissing Tim publicly was a way better confession of his feelings than any “I love you” could have been. Tim was clearly at peace with himself, and I also believe that he knew that Hawk loved him – which is the only thing that matters in the end.

I guess that Tim’s “wrenching decision” really was a red herring of sorts. Love that they had him fight until the end, and also that we never really saw his death. We all knew that he would die, and letting the audience know through the AIDS quilt and Hawk telling his daughter that he loved Tim was perfect.

Also, Jerome? My sweet baby … that scene between him and Marcus in the gym made me bawl my eyes out. “You’re innocent” – “I’m innocent” … kill me now please.

Also, I’m so glad that I was right about Lucy leaving Hawk. She deserves to find happiness.

Hawk’s storyline was definitely something I was looking forward to the most (and I could probably write entire essays about his character). But I like that they still have him trying to protect his family, ready to leave if Lucy wanted him to. It just makes more sense for his character than to have him suddenly blindly choose Tim. At the same time, he did everything he could for Tim. I never expected Hawk to come out, but I love how he clearly found comfort within his love for Tim – getting him into that gala, confronting that guy (forgot his name, I think it was Dave?), kissing Tim publicly and confessing his love for Tim to his daughter. It was all a bit too late, but also not really – Hawk making the decision to fly to San Francisco and to then stay with Tim definitely helped him grow for the better. He lost everything in the end, but maybe he can finally find peace as well. Perhaps it even needed Tim’s death for Hawk to come to terms with his love for Tim. It’s sad but their story was always meant to end this way.

I’ll probably make a million posts about this show – I have so many thoughts and can’t wait to rewatch it all.

#fellow travelers #i need some time to process this episode but damn that show is amazing #can't wait to overanalyze every second of it!#meta

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toomuchracket · 1 year

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ok hear me out… hurt comfort w flatmate!matty🙏 this is a bit self indulgent on my behalf (soz) but im imagining reader getting bad news or having to have a difficult phone call from home and not wanting to dump it on matty but obvs they share a wall and he can hear her… holding her hand when she has to make a hard call and telling her she did well, letting her talk ab it but also just being there as support…. im having thoughts 🧍‍♀️

combining w finding life kinda tough at the moment and needing some matty fluff of him like looking after me for the day lol

you're having a bit of a time of it anyway with work and studying and the emotional drainage of being in love with your best friend and then one day you just get a call from home about something vaguely shitty (idk what) and it just sends you over the edge. and you know matty's next door so you try to bite your lip and breathe to stop from sobbing, but the walls are so thin that even the tiny ones you let out are audible from next door - within seconds, matty's knocking on your door like "sweetheart? you ok?" and when you don't answer (covering your mouth so as not to cry) he gently opens the door and peers in. his heart breaks when he sees you all teary and trembling on your bed, and he just runs over and hugs you tightly into his chest like "oh, darlin', it's alright, i'm here" and you just break down into his chest as he rubs your back and whispers "let it out, baby, that's it. breathe, in through the nose, yeah, you're ok darlin', i've got you". and once you calm down a bit and wipe your eyes you apologise for crying on him and matty's like "hey, none of that, please, s'what i'm here for. you don't have to, but do you want to tell me what's wrong?", and you spill the details of everything that's happened and get a bit teary again, and matty just listens and hugs you through it before saying "i think you need to take some time off work, babe, you're overwhelming yourself. why don't you give them a call and let them know what's up?" (thinking maybe it's exam season but your part-time job keeps scheduling you for overtime and you really can't do it all). and you say "will you sit with me while i do?" and matty's like "always", and he takes your hand and rubs it gently while you phone your boss and resolve the work situation, then kisses your forehead and says "that was good. i'm proud of you for doing that". and then he's determined to make sure you have a nice day - runs you a bubble bath and hands you a cup of tea to take in with you, orders a takeaway to be delivered once you're relaxed from the hot water and wrapped in some cosy pyjamas (aka his clothes lol), then snuggles up with the food and you on the couch watching shitty reality tv and 90s/00s romcoms until you're back to your usual smiley self <3

#mads answers asks #mads muses #matty asks #fluff asks #flatmate!matty

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consoledacup · 11 months

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Please highlight the way you think Jordan and Layla grew as individuals this season. You can also do as a couple in terms of their past relationships

Whew, what an ask. Alright!

Jordan actually became a leader this season. Which is something he's been wanting and striving for since the pilot. 5x14 was such a strong episode to highlight that specific journey. But it's been there all season.

He's not seeking direction from anyone else either. He's still going to people for advice and isn't afraid to talk thru his problems. But he's not asking people to tell him his wants or goals. He's taken way more initiative and is very thoughtful about what he wants. And he's recognized what he deserves. Which was showcased really well in 5x07.

And wowee, the man he's become in his relationships with the people he cares the most about.

He was a fantastic brother to Spencer this season. Just that scene in the beginning montage of 5x01 had me teary because those two love each other so much. He wasn't afraid to be upfront and honest with Spencer when he was considering transferring and explained why. He really, really tried to reach out to Spencer when he was pushing everyone away. He immediately accepted Spencer's apology after. And he pushed Spencer to not wait and say how he really felt about his sister.

Remember in s2 when Olivia drew a family portrait and he wasn't even there?? Nothing could be further from the truth now. He completely stepped up as the man of the house. He's prioritizing the things and people that matter to him and has become a constant to Liv and Laura. He was Liv's number one support when Billy died, and Liv even echoes that in 5x17 and 5x19.

Layla is taking what her dad said to her in 4x12 to heart and is really figuring out her work/life balance. In s4, she absolutely hid in her career because it was the one thing that wouldn't let her down. It was the one thing she had complete control over. She expected people to leave her, but her job was forever.

And while she still has a tight grip on her goals, she's learned to loosen the grip and make space for the people in her life that matter to her. If Billy had died in s4, I'm not sure Layla would've been there for the Bakers as fervently as she was. She would've done all she could in her own way, but she might not have been in the mental space to be a full support for them.

That was certainly not the case for her in s5. It always gets me when Layla interrupts JJ/Olviia's altercation and Olivia just, with no hesitation, tells her what's going on, trusting her wholeheartedly. And then later, she notices Layla's absence at Crenshaw and asks where she is. Because Layla really never left their side up til then. After all the drama and heartbreak, Layla and Olivia have made it to the other side and fiercely love each other.

She's also just lighter. She's laughing more and making jokes and smiling and so, so happy. She's realized that she doesn't have to be serious all the time and can highlight moments of joy and trust that the people in her life will have her back when she needs them.

As for their relationship? I think them having it kept secret for so long really, really helped them. Because they had to figure their issues out together. They couldn't rope anyone else in. They couldn't vent to anyone else. They had to really look inward and then keep that communication line open. Because they see this thing as too important to ignore or screw up, so they are constantly checking in with each other and being honest.

In 1x15, Layla allowed Spencer to think she was staying at her own home after the break in. She was terrified but didn't want to worry her boyfriend about it. Spayla constantly tried to protect each other from the uglier parts of themselves, and that quickly fell apart. And she was admittedly going through the motions with Asher. Full stop. They both were. Jimone loved each other but pushed down conflict to hold on to that feeling. It wasn't sustainable, and they fractured slowly from the weight of it.

Jordan learned patience from Layla. He waited to be with her for months and didn't stop being her friend or a constant presence in the meantime. And he allowed her to take the lead. He was willing to wait for them to have sex and proposed they slow things down. He waited until she was ready for others to know about them and understood where she was coming from. He waited for Layla to say ily first because he wanted her to be really, really ready to hear it from him. And it's not like this was a long-suffering form of patience either. He was so, so happy with her and could see that they were something very special. He could tell that her feelings for him matched his, but he wanted her to feel safe enough before she expressed them.

And Layla learned how to fully, completely, irrevocably let someone in. There were moments, big and small, of it all season. It's why she paused her recording session to hear Jordan out in 5x05. Why she immediately realized she should've consulted Jordan before talking to Simone and acknowledging that they were a team. Why she was a rock for Jordan when he lost his dad. So while Layla was expected to say no to Jordan's proposal -- because come on! It's Layla -- she had finally torn down all her walls and accepted, heart in hand. She went from being unable to trust anyone to fully believing that Jordan loved her deeply and was sincere in his devotion to her.

#all american #jordayla #jordan baker #layla keating

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maigo-san · 1 year

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what got you into tanren? you could've shipped tanjirou with ginyu or inosuke yet you chose rengoku, the same for rengoku, you could've shipped him with akaza or uzui, im very curious! I also love your paper kimono story <3

oof buckle up cuz this is gonna have a lot of spoilers

What got me into tanren is kinda a build-up. Yes, I think I'm first touched by the last scene of Mugen Train, where Tanjirou screams at Akaza's retrieving back and the way Kyoujurou's stunt eyes turned mellow and his voice softened in endearment as if he's surprised that a new, younger,low-ranked demon slayer like Tanjirou still tries to defend him when this is literally his job (or what he keeps telling himself that).

Then, when Tanjirou defends him from Shinjurou, then during ssv when he cradles the tsuba that is now part of his new katana and got teary-eyed when he heard from Kotetsu that it protected him from a shot through the heart, then peaked during hashira training where he had a talk with Giyuu.

this panel is so powerful to me because this is literally from Tanjirou's POV. This is how he sees Kyoujurou. Even in the previous panels he also thought about how losing someone important feels like his flesh is being gouged out or that his skin is being ripped apart (depending on which translation you get). Honestly, Tanjirou can be dramatic but he's not hyperbolic. If Kyoujurou really did give him such a strong impression, he meant it.

There's also the "you ass" scene in his last fight with Akaza which is cute lol. Kyoujurou definitely deserves a feral overprotective boyfriend.

I also like other tan or kyou ships, I already answered a question related to it here but to answer why I particularly prefer tanren compared to them, I guess it's because they hit the hardest to me. I feel like I see these two as people who had missed their chances. A "right person wrong time" type of way and it devastated me to the point where I wish I can give them a second chance, a closure. (it's a good thing gtg did by making 🐥🍑)

As for other ships, I can see potentials, but I guess I'm not the right person to give them closure. I would in casual fanworks if I have the chance and I would still be down to read or see other people's works on these ships but so far I don't really get the same rush of dopamine as from tanren or rentan.

ALSO THANK YOU FOR READING!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶 I'm glad you enjoyed it!!! 🥺🥺🥺

#zig replied #rentan #tanren #ship manifesto #kny spoilers

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janeeyreheresy · 1 year

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The Party at Thornfield

The merry company, as I will call them, depart Leas and arrive at Thornfield. This is where it gets interesting. Rochester makes Jane sit in the drawing room with the guests. Now, refer to my list in the Enter Mr Rochester post, item number 7. She has not seen any of the society, the only people she ever had anything to do with were the teachers and pupils at Lowood and the live-in staff at Thornfield Hall.

How can she be expected to know how to behave among these people? Also, and this is a crucial point: a governess is an awkward position--higher than the servants, but lower than the family. Rochester must have realised that. And if he didn't, somebody would have no doubt reminded him--Lady Lynn or Lady Ingram, most likely. In fact I wager they probably did, off-page. And were made the villains for it. (The book is written from Jane's POV, so we never see any other characters interacting, unless Jane overhears them.)

The first evening of the merry company's stay, Jane hears Rochester sing for the first time. He's a good singer, with a fine bass voice. This gets her into such an emotional state that she has to, as soon as a chance allows, flee the drawing room in haste, through a side door. She fails to escape him, however. He catches up with her in the hall. Acting like nothing happened, he pesters her with mundane questions, like what she's been doing while he was away.

My brothers in Christ, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK SHE'S BEEN DOING??? She's there to do a JOB, you know the same one you're paying her for, she's doesn't have time to fuck around like you, Edward!!!

He does this despite being clearly aware of her distress. He even comments on it--she's paler than when he last saw her, her eyes look teary, he wonders if she's depressed. Yet, he orders her to sit in the drawing room every evening for the duration of the merry company's stay at Thornfield.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but that is not a part of governess's job description. The duty of a governess is to teach and train the child or children she's in charge of. Sitting in the drawing room with people of a higher social standing is not only not a job, it's also--well, stupid. (Not to mention cruel, in Jane's case. An older governess with more experience in working for this class of people would have handled it much better.) The only way such an order would make sense was if there was something shady going on and you were working for an investigator by observing the scene and the suspects. Rochester gives no reason for his order and Jane doesn't ask. She just goes with it. So much for her sassing him out.

He parts with:

"Now go, and send Sophie for Adèle. Good-night, my—” He stopped, bit his lip, and abruptly left me.

My what? Why does he not finish the sentence?

And why is he so afraid of a servant catching them? This is his own house. Even if a passing servant is a concern, there are a hundred ways to deal with it. "Meet me in the garden in five minutes, Jane." Or, better, he could wait till she's in her room, then follow her and knock on the door. "Hi. Me again. I didn't finish. I meant to say, good night my beloved." Add a kiss as a bonus. Also: "Bear with me while this company is here, I couldn't get out of it. I'm negotiating a mega deal with Sir George." Jesus. It's so simple. Talkless of the fact that, if he marries Jane, she will become a mistress of Thornfield and will have to be entertaining this type of people!

Jane, realising her own plainness, compares herself to the beautiful Blanche Ingram, member of the merry company, whom she suspects Rochester wants to marry. He does nothing to dispel this notion, quite the opposite. Deception is old Edward's forte. Take, for example, the time he dresses up as an old gypsy woman, who earns her living by telling fortunes.

#jane eyre #edward rochester #rochester is a villain #emotional abuse #manipulation #jane eyre meta

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borathae · 2 years

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it's always mc pleasing jk and pegging him, making him moan and writhe beneath her as much as I LOVE to see him all subby, whiny and teary, I really want to see him pleasuring her like actually out of the shower- in the bedroom 🥺 she's a living sex goddess I agree 100% but really want to see more of aaol jk in action.

I don't know if you wanted to make it sound that way, but damn anon tone down the demanding nature of yours geez.

I create the things I enjoy writing about. I am 90% a service dom, which means I gain immense satisfaction and pleasure out of seeing my sub enjoy the things I do to them, I gain immense satisfaction and pleasure out of seeing my sub orgasm and hearing them moan and watching them lose themselves. I don't even have to orgasm myself to think of a scene as "satisfactory", just knowing that my sub had the best time and I did an amazing job as their dom is enough for me. If they wanna please me back, then of course hell yeah bonus points, but that's not a given for me.

This is what I enjoy and what also gives me the most joy whilst writing. And that is also why I enjoyed working on Wet Dream so much as writing about Jungkook literally loosing himself like that on the strap was something very satisfactory to write about.

Also you very much saw Jungkook in action for 7500 words. He is a sub, a very performative and vocal and eager to be shaped into position sub. And he gave a hell of a perfomance for that scene. His role in that story wasn't to please through his touches, but to please through his perfomance and I merely wrote that last paragraph to make you guys aware that "hey kook doesn't just take but never gives, he does actually wants to please her back" in order to avoid all those "okay but like why is HE always taking? so selfish" comments.

Again, I don't know if you wanted to make your ask sound that demanding, but geez next time come here and actually like give some feedback on the story I actually published instead of demanding a new one.

Edit because I thought of something else: I also have to tell you that I also feel very awkward writing all the recieving parts solely because I have to put myself into the role of the OC and write about “my bodily reactions” and this always makes me a lil uncomfortable because first of all, I don’t want to write about something so personal. And second of all not every body reacts the same. So if I for example write “he sucks on your nipple, sending electric tingles down to your pussy” there are people out there (me) who don’t have sensitive nipples and who would probably be all like “lol dude that aint working wtf” and then they have to sit through 4 paragraphs of him sucking on her titties eventhough it doesn’t do anything for them. Or some people like fingering, others hate it and those people would have very different reactions to the guy sticking their finger up their vagina. So I feel awkward writing about “how he makes you writhe with just fingers” when I know that there are people having to read this and feeling very uncomfortable about it. Which is why I most of the time try to stay away from too much recieving action.

#asks: wet dream #asks #anon

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auliasbookcorner · 2 years

Text

Review: The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

Book 11 of 2022

Start Reading Time: 21 May 2022

Finish reading Time: 30 May 2022

Page Count: 371

TRIGGER WARNINGS: RAPE, SUICIDE, CHILD ABUSE, VIOLENCE, WAR, RACISM, BULLYING

This is the spoiler-free part of the review. I will put up a spoiler alert before going into the review that contains spoilers.

No amount of warning in the world could have warned and prepared me for the waterfalls and waterfalls of tears I'd shed as a result of reading this book. No, I was not just crying; but sobbing. I was sobbing, and it was really embarrassing to see. Thankfully, no one saw me. So, maybe that's one of the important things to know before you read this book, especially if you're a crybaby like me; don't read this in public, and it is important to have tissues at arm's reach while reading it, other than that, my tip is just be prepared to read one of the saddest stories you'll ever read.

I'm a lover of good poignant stories, I love it when authors make me cry with the stories they tell because it means the book and the story is doing a good job of making me invested in the story. Also, because I'll be crying about something other than my life for once. And in the last week I had been crying about Hassan, the childhood best friend of Amir, the narrator of this book. I had been crying about their friendship, and how it ended. I had been crying about Sohrab. I had been crying about the situation in Afghanistan. I had been crying a lot, and now I can't even read or hear the words "For you, a thousand times over," without getting teary eyed.

This book is about friendship & brotherhood. It's about a son who's desperate for his father's approval and love. It's about the war and it's impacts on civilian lives, but especially children. It's about a family secret. It's about an unconditional love and loyalty that's unrequited. But, ultimately, it's about regret and redemption.

I love this book. It's definitely not an easy read, but the story's incredible, heartbreaking, and poignant. It is told beautifully by the author, and it definitely left a strong impression on me.

To give you a brief non-spoilery synopsis, the story is about Amir, the narrator of the book, during his childhood in Afghanistan, before the war, in the 1970s. When Amir's not in school, he spends most of his time playing with Hassan, the son of his family's housekeeper Ali, who's been with them since Amir's Dad was a little kid. Amir's Dad thinks of Ali as his brother, because they grew up and played together like brothers, and now Amir and Hassan are also growing up and playing together like brothers, just like their fathers. Amir's Dad is a successful business man and respected in their community, and they live in the most beautiful house in their neighborhood. Ali and Hassan, although they're thought of as family by Amir's dad, they are essentially servants working for Amir's Dad. Ali and Hassan live in a modest hut in Amir's family's house's garden, and that's also where Hassan was born. Also, Ali and Hassan are Hazara, an ethnic group in Afghanistan that's looked down on by some people there, and Ali has some physical flaws that were the reminders of the polio he suffered in his childhood, that made him a target of bullying from the children in their neighborhood. Yes, the children straight up calling him names to his face. But he never once retaliated against them.

Hassan is one year younger than Amir and he's illiterate, due to lack of education. However, Hassan loves hearing the stories that Amir read to him from books. Hassan looks up to Amir and is extremely loyal to him, that whenever Amir is being pushed around by other kids, Hassan will bravely defend Amir and take the punches for him. Hassan loves Amir and will do anything for him. But for Amir, he's not even sure if he can honestly call his relationship with Hassan a friendship, as he's never thought of Hassan as a friend, but more of someone who would do anything he wants him to do. And, for Amir, nothing's more important than earning the love and approval from his Dad, who always seems to be too busy to talk to him, or disappointed by him. So, in little Amir's head, he was determined to do anything to be able win his Dad's love and approval, at any cost.

Then, on one winter day, the opportunity to earn that love and approval arises. Amir knew that winning the kite fighting tournament and getting the last fallen kite would make his Dad proud of him, and thus, he’ll win his Dad’s love and approval. So, he promised himself he's gonna be the first winner and he's going to get the last fallen kite. What happens on that winter day will forever change not only Amir's life, but also Hassan's. Amir would learn that getting what he wanted is not always as sweet as he imagined it to be, and he would learn that the cost would be too high, and it will haunt him for the rest of his life.

🚨 SPOILER ALERT 🚨

From this point forward in the review, i will mention spoilers, plot twist and the ending, so if you don’t wish to be spoiled, you can skip the rest of the review and come back once you’ve finished reading this book

Here are my favorite things about the book:

Hassan. I may be biased, but I'm convinced that he's an angel. Despite all of his shortcomings, he still goes through life with a smile, and a pure and kind heart. Hassan is the most precious character with the most heartbreaking life story since Jude from "A little Life" by Hanya Yanagihara. We all go through life wanting to be or have someone as pure, loyal, loving, brilliant, hardworking, kind and precious as Hassan, and I think one of the reasons most of us don't become or have someone like Hassan in our lives is because most of us are more like Amir; cowardly, selfish, always looking for approvals from others. Their tragic story taught me an important lesson, it made me question myself about the kind of person I choose to be, and whether I like that person, or if I would regret being that person, later in my old age. My heart broke for him, and again for his son. But oh, how thankful I am to have come to know and love these characters, because they've inspired me to be stronger and be kinder despite this cruel world slowly crushing my soul.

Amir. He is the most frustrating character I've read in a while, although he does get a great redemption arc, and by the end of the book, I think he's redeemed himself. But what makes me like him is because, as much as I hate to admit it, I can see a little bit of myself in him. I hate him because he's such a coward and selfish, but he knows that, and he hated himself for being that way. I think he just didn't possess the courage to do the right thing, at the time. But his conscience is screaming at him for years, and even decades later, ever since that winter day, that he must do the right thing. Regret is a powerful thing, I think all of us can agree. And finally, he did the right thing with Sohrab, although at that point it was too late to apologize to Hassan. I like that Amir is depicted so realistically; he is incredibly flawed, and he made irreparable mistakes, and he's immensely regretful and ashamed of his mistakes. Also, knowing that he got a second chance to do right by Hassan by rescuing and raising his son as his own (even though it doesn't make what he did to Hassan right) is incredible and it gives me a lot of hope. Also let's not forget the fact that he was just a child when he acted selfishly and decided to not help and defend Hassan that day, he thought his father hated him for a long time because he was weak and his mother died giving birth to him, he blamed himself for his mother's death, and he was kept in the dark for decades by his own father about the truth about his relationship with Hassan, or as his own father would put it, he was robbed of the truth by his own father. It brings forth the realization that the father that he has looked up to and idolized his whole life, is only a human who made mistakes, just like him. I agree with Rahim Khan, that Amir should also forgive himself, as we humans can only live, do our best and when we make inevitable mistakes along the way, we try to learn and do better.

Sohrab. This amazing, resilient and strong little man tugs at my heartstrings and I love him with all my heart. I was so heartbroken because of all of the horrible things he had to go through and endure, and when THAT scene at the hotel bathroom happened, I legit almost threw my phone across the room and scream into my pillow, because I'M NOT READY FOR ANOTHER SAD ENDING SUCH AS JUDE ST. FRANCIS'. THAT scene was so freaking real, I was gonna DNF the book at that point. But oh God, was I RELIEVED when I kept reading and found out the ending. However, I still do NOT appreciate that scare, MY POOR HEART IS NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR THAT. And, even though the ending is bittersweet, I love that it's an open ending, i think it's believable and it gives me hope that Sohrab will be alright, after all.

Rahim Khan. I think he's so underrated in the book, but so much of the story was able to progress the way it did because of his interventions. I love that he was the one who encouraged and supported Amir to become a writer, I love that he found Hassan and his family and asked them to join him to live in Amir's family's house, I love that he's the one who told Amir the truth about his father and his relation with Hassan, and I love that he's the one who helped Amir to right his wrongs, even in his dying days. I think he's the voice of reason and truth, and I'm just so thankful for his existence in this story. Although, I do wish we got to see and know that he died peacefully and among his loved ones, but I'll make peace with his mysterious ending that the book gave me. I'd like to imagine that he'd find Homaira and die peacefully beside her.

Afghanistan. This book taught me about Afghanistan better than my Geography teacher. Through this book, I have fallen in love with the culture and the people of Afghanistan, and it opened my eyes to the cruelty and suffering that the war brings to the innocent civilians, but especially the children of Afghanistan, and to say that I'm devastated is an understatement. I can honestly rant for hours here but I won't. Instead, I would encourage you to make a donation, if you're available to do so, to any legitimate charities for Afghanistan. Or, in any small ways you can help, maybe through prayers if you're a religious person, or in any other positive ways you can.

The writing style. The pacing. The message. The storytelling. I think I have found my new favorite author and I am beyond excited to read more of his works.

Usually, I would mention the things I don't like in the book here, but honestly, I think there's not one thing I can criticize about this book. I'm not saying it's perfect, as I know other people will find a lot of flaws with it, but for me, this book is just simply beautiful, and I personally don't have any critics. Well, if I really have to give any criticism, I think I'd say that it has a little of torture porn in it that makes it hard to read at times. But I think that the author didn't include it in the book just for the fun of it, I think it's appropriate given the context of the country being under the tyranny of Taliban, and it depicted the true cruelty of Taliban. Although, I do agree that it's a little too convenient that Assef, the childhood sociopath bully, grew up to be an important figure in the Taliban, and then comes face to face with Amir again, just like in their childhood. But that's just as far as my criticism goes for this book. Otherwise, I think this book hits all the right spots, and I love it.

Here are my favourite moments from the book:

When Amir & Hassan were celebrating, and hugging each other after winning the kite competition, and when Hassan told Amir "For you, a thousand times over".

When Hassan told Amir the story he made up was the best story he'd ever told him, without knowing that Amir had made it up to fool Hassan, but Hassan ended up sincerely loving the story, and Amir kissed Hassan on the cheek, and he told Hassan that he's a prince, and then Amir wrote his first ever short story that same night.

When Amir promised he would buy Hassan a TV with colours.

When Amir's Dad stood up to protect that lady from the Russian officer.

When Amir graduated from High School and his Dad was taking pictures of him, and surprised him with a new used car for him.

When Amir was having a heart to heart talk with Sohrab for the first time.

When Sohrab was trying to talk in English and he said, "Tank you wery match." (this is so adorable, i just wanna squeeze him)

When Amir said “For you, a thousand times over,” to Sohrab, and Sohrab smiled for the first time in a long time, and Amir was running for the kite for Sohrab, just like Hassan did to Amir decades ago, that winter day.

Here are my favourite quotes from the book, but WARNING: these quotes contain "onions" and will most likely make you cry:

"Ali never retaliated against any of his tormentors, I suppose partly because he could never catch them with that twisted leg dragging behind him. But mostly because Ali was immune to the insults of his assailants; he had found his joy, his antidote, the moment Sanaubar had given birth to Hassan. It had been a simple enough affair. No obstetricians, no anesthesiologists, no fancy monitoring devices. Just Sanaubar lying on a stained, naked mattress with Ali and a midwife helping her. She hadn’t needed much help at all, because, even in birth, Hassan was true to his nature: He was incapable of hurting anyone. A few grunts, a couple of pushes, and out came Hassan. Out he came smiling."

"Then he would remind us that there was a brotherhood between people who had fed from the same breast, a kinship that not even time could break.

Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first words.

Mine was Baba.

His was Amir. My name.

Looking back on it now, I think the foundation for what happened in the winter of 1975—and all that followed—was already laid in those first words."

"With me as the glaring exception, my father molded the world around him to his liking. The problem, of course, was that Baba saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide what was black and what was white. You can’t love a person who lives that way without fearing him too. Maybe even hating him a little."

"“When you kill a man, you steal a life,” Baba said. “You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. Do you see?”"

"“Children aren’t coloring books. You don’t get to fill them with your favorite colors.”"

"The curious thing was, I never thought of Hassan and me as friends either. Not in the usual sense, anyhow. Never mind that we taught each other to ride a bicycle with no hands, or to build a fully functional homemade camera out of a cardboard box. Never mind that we spent entire winters flying kites, running kites. Never mind that to me, the face of Afghanistan is that of a boy with a thin-boned frame, a shaved head, and low-set ears, a boy with a Chinese doll face perpetually lit by a harelipped smile.

Never mind any of those things. Because history isn’t easy to overcome. Neither is religion. In the end, I was a Pashtun and he was a Hazara, I was Sunni and he was Shi’a, and nothing was ever going to change that. Nothing."

"But his favorite story, and mine, was “Rostam and Sohrab,” the tale of the great warrior Rostam and his fleet-footed horse, Rakhsh. Rostam mortally wounds his valiant nemesis, Sohrab, in battle, only to discover that Sohrab is his long-lost son. Stricken with grief, Rostam hears his son’s dying words:

If thou art indeed my father, then hast thou stained thy sword in the life-blood of thy son. And thou didst it of thine obstinacy. For I sought to turn thee unto love, and I implored of thee thy name, for I thought to behold in thee the tokens recounted of my mother. But I appealed unto thy heart in vain, and now is the time gone for meeting . . .

“Read it again please, Amir agha,” Hassan would say. Sometimes tears pooled in Hassan’s eyes as I read him this passage, and I always wondered whom he wept for, the grief-stricken Rostam who tears his clothes and covers his head with ashes, or the dying Sohrab who only longed for his father’s love? Personally, I couldn’t see the tragedy in Rostam’s fate. After all, didn’t all fathers in their secret hearts harbor a desire to kill their sons?"

"One day, in July 1973, I played another little trick on Hassan. I was reading to him, and suddenly I strayed from the written story. I pretended I was reading from the book, flipping pages regularly, but I had abandoned the text altogether, taken over the story, and made up my own. Hassan, of course, was oblivious to this. To him, the words on the page were a scramble of codes, indecipherable, mysterious. Words were secret doorways and I held all the keys. After, I started to ask him if he’d liked the story, a giggle rising in my throat, when Hassan began to clap.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“That was the best story you’ve read me in a long time,” he said, still clapping.

I laughed. “Really?”

“Really.”

“That’s fascinating,” I muttered. I meant it too. This was . . . wholly unexpected. “Are you sure, Hassan?”

He was still clapping. “It was great, Amir agha. Will you read me more of it tomorrow?”

“Fascinating,” I repeated, a little breathless, feeling like a man who discovers a buried treasure in his own backyard. Walking down the hill, thoughts were exploding in my head like the fireworks at Chaman. Best story you’ve read me in a long time, he’d said. I had read him a lot of stories. Hassan was asking me something.

“What?” I said.

“What does that mean, ‘fascinating’?”

I laughed. Clutched him in a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“What was that for?” he said, startled, blushing.

I gave him a friendly shove. Smiled. “You’re a prince, Hassan. You’re a prince and I love you.”

That same night, I wrote my first short story."

"But he’s not my friend! I almost blurted. He’s my servant! Had I really thought that? Of course I hadn’t. I hadn’t. I treated Hassan well, just like a friend, better even, more like a brother. But if so, then why, when Baba’s friends came to visit with their kids, didn’t I ever include Hassan in our games? Why did I play with Hassan only when no one else was around?"

"“Please leave us alone, Agha,” Hassan said in a flat tone. He’d referred to Assef as “Agha,” and I wondered briefly what it must be like to live with such an ingrained sense of one’s place in a hierarchy."

"And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does too."

"“I’ll buy you one someday,” I said. Hassan’s face brightened. “A television? In truth?” “Sure. And not the black-and-white kind either. We’ll probably be grown-ups by then, but I’ll get us two. One for you and one for me.”

“I’ll put it on my table, where I keep my drawings,” Hassan said. His saying that made me kind of sad. Sad for who Hassan was, where he lived. For how he’d accepted the fact that he’d grow old in that mud shack in the yard, the way his father had."

"“I’m not sure I want to fly a kite today,” I said.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Hassan said.

I shifted on my feet. Tried to peel my gaze away from our rooftop. “I don’t know. Maybe we should go home.”

Then he stepped toward me and, in a low voice, said something that scared me a little. “Remember, Amir agha. There’s no monster, just a beautiful day.” How could I be such an open book to him when, half the time, I had no idea what was milling around in his head? I was the one who went to school, the one who could read, write. I was the smart one. Hassan couldn’t read a first-grade textbook but he’d read me plenty. That was a little unsettling, but also sort of comfortable to have someone who always knew what you needed."

"Then I was screaming, and everything was color and sound, everything was alive and good. I was throwing my free arm around Hassan and we were hopping up and down, both of us laughing, both of us weeping. “You won, Amir agha! You won!”

“We won! We won!” was all I could say. This wasn’t happening. In a moment, I’d blink and rouse from this beautiful dream, get out of bed, march down to the kitchen to eat breakfast with no one to talk to but Hassan. Get dressed. Wait for Baba. Give up. Back to my old life. Then I saw Baba on our roof. He was standing on the edge, pumping both of his fists. Hollering and clapping. And that right there was the single greatest moment of my twelve years of life, seeing Baba on that roof, proud of me at last."

"“Hassan!” I called. “Come back with it!”

He was already turning the street corner, his rubber boots kicking up snow. He stopped, turned. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “For you a thousand times over!” he said. Then he smiled his Hassan smile and disappeared around the corner. The next time I saw him smile unabashedly like that was twenty-six years later, in a faded Polaroid photograph."

"I had one last chance to make a decision. One final opportunity to decide who I was going to be. I could step into that alley, stand up for Hassan—the way he’d stood up for me all those times in the past—and accept whatever would happen to me. Or I could run. In the end, I ran.

I ran because I was a coward. I was afraid of Assef and what he would do to me. I was afraid of getting hurt. That’s what I told myself as I turned my back to the alley, to Hassan. That’s what I made myself believe. I actually aspired to cowardice, because the alternative, the real reason I was running, was that Assef was right: Nothing was free in this world. Maybe Hassan was the price I had to pay, the lamb I had to slay, to win Baba. Was it a fair price? The answer floated to my conscious mind before I could thwart it: He was just a Hazara, wasn’t he?"

"I thought about Hassan’s dream, the one about us swimming in the lake. There is no monster, he’d said, just water. Except he’d been wrong about that. There was a monster in the lake. It had grabbed Hassan by the ankles, dragged him to the murky bottom.

I was that monster."

"I hit him with another pomegranate, in the shoulder this time.

The juice splattered his face. “Hit me back!” I spat. “Hit me back, goddamn you!” I wished he would. I wished he’d give me the punishment I craved, so maybe I’d finally sleep at night. Maybe then things could return to how they used to be between us. But Hassan did nothing as I pelted him again and again. “You’re a coward!” I said. “Nothing but a goddamn coward!”

I don’t know how many times I hit him. All I know is that, when I finally stopped, exhausted and panting, Hassan was smeared in red like he’d been shot by a firing squad. I fell to my knees, tired, spent, frustrated.

Then Hassan did pick up a pomegranate. He walked toward me. He opened it and crushed it against his own forehead.

“There,” he croaked, red dripping down his face like blood. “Are you satisfied? Do you feel better?” He turned around and started down the hill.

I let the tears break free, rocked back and forth on my knees. “What am I going to do with you, Hassan? What am I going to do with you?”"

"“It was Homaira and me against the world. And I’ll tell you this, Amir jan: In the end, the world always wins. That’s just the way of things.”"

"Then I saw Baba do something I had never seen him do before: He cried. It scared me a little, seeing a grown man sob. Fathers weren’t supposed to cry. “Please,” Baba was saying, but Ali had already turned to the door, Hassan trailing him. I’ll never forget the way Baba said that, the pain in his plea, the fear."

"I was sorry, but I didn’t cry and I didn’t chase the car. I watched Baba’s car pull away from the curb, taking with it the person whose first spoken word had been my name. I caught one final blurry glimpse of Hassan slumped in the backseat before Baba turned left at the street corner where we’d played marbles so many times."

"That was when Baba stood up. It was my turn to clamp a hand on his thigh, but Baba pried it loose, snatched his leg away. When he stood, he eclipsed the moonlight. “I want you to ask this man something,” Baba said. He said it to Karim, but looked directly at the Russian officer. “Ask him where his shame is.”

They spoke. “He says this is war. There is no shame in war.” “Tell him he’s wrong. War doesn’t negate decency. It demands it, even more than in times of peace.”

Do you have to always be the hero? I thought, my heart fluttering. Can’t you just let it go for once? But I knew he couldn’t—it wasn’t in his nature. The problem was, his nature was going to get us all killed."

"“Tell him I’ll take a thousand of his bullets before I let this indecency take place,” Baba said. My mind flashed to that winter day six years ago. Me, peering around the corner in the alley. Kamal and Wali holding Hassan down. Assef’s buttock muscles clenching and unclenching, his hips thrusting back and forth. Some hero I had been, fretting about the kite. Sometimes, I too wondered if I was really Baba’s son."

"That summer of 1983, I graduated from high school at the age of twenty, by far the oldest senior tossing his mortarboard on the football field that day. I remember losing Baba in the swarm of families, flashing cameras, and blue gowns. I found him near the twenty-yard line, hands shoved in his pockets, camera dangling on his chest. He disappeared and reappeared behind the people moving between us: squealing blue-clad girls hugging, crying, boys high-fiving their fathers, each other. Baba’s beard was graying, his hair thinning at the temples, and hadn’t he been taller in Kabul? He was wearing his brown suit—his only suit, the same one he wore to Afghan weddings and funerals—and the red tie I had bought for his fiftieth birthday that year. Then he saw me and waved. Smiled. He motioned for me to wear my mortarboard, and took a picture of me with the school’s clock tower in the background. I smiled for him—in a way, this was his day more than mine. He walked to me, curled his arm around my neck, and gave my brow a single kiss. “I am moftakhir, Amir,” he said. Proud. His eyes gleamed when he said that and I liked being on the receiving end of that look."

"“It may be unfair, but what happens in a few days, sometimes even a single day, can change the course of a whole lifetime, Amir,” he said."

"Afghan men, especially those from reputable families, were fickle creatures. A whisper here, an insinuation there, and they fled like startled birds. So weddings had come and gone and no one had sung ahesta boro for Soraya, no one had painted her palms with henna, no one had held a Koran over her headdress, and it had been General Taheri who’d danced with her at every wedding. And now, this woman, this mother, with her heartbreakingly eager, crooked smile and the barely veiled hope in her eyes. I cringed a little at the position of power I’d been granted, and all because I had won at the genetic lottery that had determined my sex."

"Listening to them, I realized how much of who I was, what I was, had been defined by Baba and the marks he had left on people’s lives. My whole life, I had been “Baba’s son.” Now he was gone. Baba couldn’t show me the way anymore; I’d have to find it on my own.

The thought of it terrified me."

"I have been dreaming a lot lately, Amir agha. Some of them are nightmares, like hanged corpses rotting in soccer fields with bloodred grass. I wake up from those short of breath and sweaty. Mostly, though, I dream of good things, and praise Allah for that. I dream that Rahim Khan sahib will be well. I dream that my son will grow up to be a good person, a free person, and an important person. I dream that lawla flowers will bloom in the streets of Kabul again and rubab music will play in the samovar houses and kites will fly in the skies. And I dream that someday you will return to Kabul to revisit the land of our childhood. If you do, you will find an old faithful friend waiting for you."

"“I’m a dying man and I will not b e insulted! It has never been about money with me, you know that. And why you? I think we both know why it has to be you, don’t we?”

I didn’t want to understand that comment, but I did. I understood it all too well. “I have a wife in America, a home, a career, and a family. Kabul is a dangerous place, you know that, and you’d have me risk everything for . . .” I stopped.

“You know,” Rahim Khan said, “one time, when you weren’t around, your father and I were talking. And you know how he always worried about you in those days. I remember he said to me, ‘Rahim, a boy who won’t stand up for himself becomes a man who can’t stand up to anything.’ I wonder, is that what you’ve become?”"

"Here is another cliché my creative writing teacher would have scoffed at; like father, like son. But it was true, wasn’t it? As it turned out, Baba and I were more alike than I’d ever known. We had both betrayed the people who would have given their lives for us. And with that came this realization: that Rahim Khan had summoned me here to atone not just for my sins but for Baba’s too."

"There is a way to be good again, he’d said. A way to end the cycle.

With a little boy. An orphan. Hassan’s son. Somewhere in Kabul."

"I looked at the round face in the Polaroid again, the way the sun fell on it. My brother’s face. Hassan had loved me once, loved me in a way that no one ever had or ever would again. He was gone now, but a little part of him lived on. It was in Kabul.

Waiting."

"It was on this soil that my grandfather had gone on a hunting trip with King Nadir Shah and shot a deer. My mother had died on this soil. And on this soil, I had fought for my father’s love."

"Somewhere over those mountains in the west slept the city where my harelipped brother and I had run kites. Somewhere over there, the blindfolded man from my dream had died a needless death. Once, over those mountains, I had made a choice. And now, a quarter of a century later, that choice had landed me right back on this soil."

"Zaman dropped his hands. “I haven’t been paid in over six months. I’m broke because I’ve spent my life’s savings on this orphanage. Everything I ever owned or inherited I sold to run this godforsaken place. You think I don’t have family in Pakistan and Iran? I could have run like everyone else. But I didn’t. I stayed. I stayed because of them.” He pointed to the door. “If I deny him one child, he takes ten. So I let him take one and leave the judging to Allah. I swallow my pride and take his goddamn filthy . . . dirty money. Then I go to the bazaar and buy food for the children.”"

"“WHAT’S SO FUNNY?” Assef bellowed. Another rib snapped, this time left lower. What was so funny was that, for the first time since the winter of 1975, I felt at peace. I laughed because I saw that, in some hidden nook in a corner of my mind, I’d even been looking forward to this. I remembered the day on the hill I had pelted Hassan with pomegranates and tried to provoke him. He’d just stood there, doing nothing, red juice soaking through his shirt like blood. Then he’d taken the pomegranate from my hand, crushed it against his forehead. Are you satisfied now? he’d hissed. Do you feel better? I hadn’t been happy and I hadn’t felt better, not at all. But I did now. My body was broken—just how badly I wouldn’t find out until later—but I felt healed. Healed at last. I laughed."

"You were right all those years to suspect that I knew. I did know. Hassan told me shortly after it happened. What you did was wrong, Amir jan, but do not forget that you were a boy when it happened. A troubled little boy. You were too hard on yourself then, and you still are—I saw it in your eyes in Peshawar. But I hope you will heed this: A man who has no conscience, no goodness, does not suffer. I hope your suffering comes to an end with this journey to Afghanistan."

"When he saw you, he saw himself. And his guilt. You are still angry and I realize it is far too early to expect you to accept this, but maybe someday you will see that when your father was hard on you, he was also being hard on himself. Your father, like you, was a tortured soul, Amir jan."

"And this is what I want you to understand, that good, real good, was born out of your father’s remorse. Sometimes, I think everything he did, feeding the poor on the streets, building the orphanage, giving money to friends in need, it was all his way of redeeming himself. And that, I believe, is what true redemption is, Amir jan, when guilt leads to good."

"“Your father and I were nursed by the same woman.”

“I know.”

“What . . . what did he tell you about us?”

“That you were the best friend he ever had,” he said.

I twirled the jack of diamonds in my fingers, flipped it back and forth. “I wasn’t such a good friend, I’m afraid,” I said. “But I’d like to be your friend. I think I could be a good friend to you. Would that be all right? Would you like that?”"

"Found the Polaroid snapshot of Hassan and Sohrab. “Here,” I said. He brought the photo to within an inch of his face, turned it so the light from the mosque fell on it. He looked at it for a long time. I thought he might cry, but he didn’t. He just held it in both hands, traced his thumb over its surface. I thought of a line I’d read somewhere, or maybe I’d heard someone say it: There are a lot of children in Afghanistan, but little childhood. He stretched his hand to give it back to me.

“Keep it,” I said. “It’s yours.”

“Thank you.”"

"“But why did people hide it from Father and you?”

“You know, I asked myself that same question the other day. And there’s an answer , but not a good one. Let’s just say they didn’t tell us because your father and I . . . we weren’t supposed to be brothers.”

“Because he was a Hazara?”

I willed my eyes to stay on him. “Yes.”

“Did your father,” he began, eyeing his food, “did your father love you and my father equally?”

I thought of a long ago day at Ghargha Lake, when Baba had allowed himself to pat Hassan on the back when Hassan’s stone had outskipped mine. I pictured Baba in the hospital room, beaming as they removed the bandages from Hassan’s lips. “I think he loved us equally but differently.”

“Was he ashamed of my father?”

“No,” I said. “I think he was ashamed of himself.”"

"I remembered something I had read somewhere a long time ago: That’s how children deal with terror. They fall asleep."

"I throw my makeshift jai-namaz, my prayer rug, on the floor and I get on my knees, lower my forehead to the ground, my tears soaking through the sheet. I bow to the west. Then I remember I haven’t prayed for over fifteen years. I have long forgotten the words. But it doesn’t matter, I will utter those few words I still remember: La illaha il Allah, Muhammad u rasul ullah. There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is His messenger. I see now that Baba was wrong, there is a God, there always had been. I see Him here, in the eyes of the people in this corridor of desperation. This is the real house of God, this is where those who have lost God will find Him, not the white masjid with its bright diamond lights and towering minarets. There is a God, there has to be, and now I will pray, I will pray that He forgive that I have neglected Him all of these years, forgive that I have betrayed, lied, and sinned with impunity only to turn to Him now in my hour of need, I pray that He is as merciful, benevolent, and gracious as His book says He is. I bow to the west and kiss the ground and promise that I will do zakat, I will do namaz, I will fast during Ramadan and when Ramadan has passed I will go on fasting, I will commit to memory every last word of His holy book, and I will set on a pilgrimage to that sweltering city in the desert and bow before the Ka’bah too. I will do all of this and I will think of Him everyday from this day on if He only grants me this one wish: My hands are stained with Hassan’s blood; I pray God doesn’t let them get stained with the blood of his boy too.

I hear a whimpering and realize it is mine, my lips are salty with the tears trickling down my face. I feel the eyes of everyone in this corridor on me and still I bow to the west. I pray. I pray that my sins have not caught up with me the way I’d always feared they would."

"Then I realized something: That last thought had brought no sting with it. Closing Sohrab’s door, I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night."

"It would be erroneous to say Sohrab was quiet. Quiet is peace. Tranquillity. Quiet is turning down the VOLUME knob on life.

Silence is pushing the OFF button. Shutting it down. All of it.

Sohrab’s silence wasn’t the self-imposed silence of those with convictions, of protesters who seek to speak their cause by not speaking at all. It was the silence of one who has taken cover in a dark place, curled up all the edges and tucked them under."

"“Do you want me to run that kite for you?”

His Adam’s apple rose and fell as he swallowed. The wind lifted his hair. I thought I saw him nod."

“For you, a thousand times over,” I heard myself say.

Then I turned and ran.

It was only a smile, nothing more. It didn’t make everything all right. It didn’t make anything all right. Only a smile. A tiny thing. A leaf in the woods, shaking in the wake of a startled bird’s flight.

But I’ll take it. With open arms."

"Because when spring comes, it melts the snow one flake at a time, and maybe I just witnessed the first flake melting.

I ran. A grown man running with a swarm of screaming children. But I didn’t care. I ran with the wind blowing in my face, and a smile as wide as the Valley of Panjsher on my lips.

I ran."

This is now officially one of my favorite books of all time, Khaled Hosseini is my new favorite author, and this story and its characters will stay with me for a long, long time. This book is only the 2nd book that I rated 5 stars this year so far (the 1st one was A Little Life), and I think it shows just how much I love this book and how great it is (if this long-ass rave review didn't already). It also shows that my rating is much more serious this year compared to last year when I rated so many books with 5 stars. This book reminds me how much I love reading, and how good it feels to let a book break your heart, then slowly pick up the pieces and put it back together, and make it whole again.

PLOT - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

WRITING STYLE - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

ENTERTAINMENT LEVEL PAIN LEVEL- 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

BOOK COVER DESIGN - ⭐⭐⭐⭐

OVERALL BOOK RATING - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

#book review #the kite runner

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skyfirecn · 2 years

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So I’m not sure if anyone really cares, but I wanna talk about Amphibia’s ending and my thoughts on it. Warning, there be some hot, and quite possibly bad, takes ahead -

I think, as a blanket statement, I’ll start off with the fact that I think The Hardest Thing was extremely rushed in pacing. This is probably most notable in the battle against the moon. We go from the girls kicking butt, to the moon gaining on Amphibia, to Andrias’ robots helping to push it back, to it not being enough and Anne having to go pseudo-god-mode and destroy the dang thing in the span of like seven minutes or less. I get the flow they were going for, but it’s just too fast that the little ground they gain mid-battle, before Anne makes her sacrifice, feels like a useless addition. I also feel this in how suddenly Valeriana and Mother Olm pop up, and in how quick the goodbyes are. The goodbyes aren’t nearly as bad as characters randomly appearing for plot convenience, but what bugs me is that Anne is sad about leaving, yeah, but she isn’t even torn on her decision. We don’t even see her mull it over; she’s just like, welp, better head back home. Bye found family, ‘till we meet again when I’m god or whatever. It feels like all the bonding Anne did with the people of Amphibia was just for nothing? It taught her good life lessons, but she doesn’t even consider staying with them for a second. Sprig is way more torn up about it than her, and the way she just says this is the way it has to be felt… wrong to me. She should be more upset imo

On the matter of the Earth stuff; I’m torn. I understand the argument that real life friend groups drift apart and that’s just how it is sometimes, but these three went through a ton of trauma and wonderful adventures together. As realistic as it is for them to drift apart, it makes no sense given what they’ve experienced together. Thematically sure, they can drift apart all they want to really hammer that message home. But logically? Yeah, I can’t really green-light that. If this was somehow a real story, there’s no way those three would let themselves be torn apart by little things like distance or different social groups. But, I digress. I’m not against the hard ending of the girls never going to Amphibia ever again, it’s not a concept I’m inherently opposed to. It bothers me because, again, it feels like all the characters had these intense bonding moments with people in Amphibia - Marcy was literally willing to give up her life on Earth to travel the multiverse when she got Andrias’ proposal - but then at the end, when the hard choice is there, none of them even think about actually staying behind. Like, when the chips are down and they get one choice, no take-backs, they all choose to willingly leave behind their friends and family in Amphibia. It just feels kinda cruel to me. A small moment of Sprig trying to convince Anne that he can come with her, that he can make living on Earth work for him, would’ve gone a long way. Or even something so simple as Marcy remarking to Olivia and Yunan that she sincerely wishes she could stay, but she knows she has a life to get back to and needs to grow as a person before she can make the choice to stay in good faith. It’s like the characters are all on autopilot, just being like yeah sure time to go back now because that’s what the writers said. I dunno, the whole leaving Amphibia forever with only some teary farewells came across as stiff and manufactured to me, but maybe I’m just weird.

Now, if I may, a look into the absolute bs that is the girls in the ten year time skip. Their careers make perfect sense, the way they come back together again is great, I don’t have complaints about any of that. I actually love Sasha and Anne’s jobs; Sasha helping kids not repeat her mistakes and Anne working at a place that gave her comfort in two worlds, I love it. No, the part that irks me is how flippant everything is. Judging by the dialogue alone, the three girls haven’t seen each other in person, all together, since before high school. I infer this because Marcy asks if Sasha and Anne hung out a lot in high school. Obviously, if they had like a yearly visit set up, Marcy would’ve asked them that much sooner. And her asking it now implies that the three had minimal to no contact leading up to the Frogvasion anniversary. Them drifting apart is whatever, it’s just sort of meh for me. But I’m supposed to believe that, in less than half a year after the end of the show, they were basically just not even talking anymore??? They were in seventh grade when they got sent to Amphibia, and apparently Amphibia’s story is almost a whole year’s worth of time. That means they were in eighth grade when Marcy moved, and probably like mid-year at that. Which means that by the end of that school year, they straight weren’t talking at all anymore. Wtf?!? What happened to Anne’s whole speech about how they’d stay friends no matter what, about how their friendship would endure even in the face of change and distance? I guess that meant nothing? Like, I just don’t get it. Why make it such a focal point of the show to pose this question - will the girls repair their friendship and stay friends despite everything? - if you’re just gonna turn around and say, nah things didn’t work out too great anyway even if they’re starting to reconnect now?? I just… I know I’m biased on things like this, but it really gets to me.

Real talk; I have a lot of firsthand experience with friendships crumbling apart. I basically had a new social group every school year because we wouldn’t talk all summer and then we just didn’t start talking again when school started back up. I always felt like I was being left behind, though. I wanted the relationship to continue, to come back, but everyone else seemed to move on. I had to learn to fight for my friendships. I’m not gonna fight if the other person clearly doesn’t care of course, but if a friendship means a lot to me, I give everything I have to keep it. So I think I get uniquely upset at Amphibia’s ending in that the trio splitting up going into adulthood is something I could never see myself allowing to happen. It’s a very specific trigger (?) I guess? And I’m aware that other people can be totally fine with letting friendships do whatever they’re gonna do, and I’m fine with that. But I think that’s the other reason why it bothers me so much. Sorry, didn’t mean to make this all personal but I guess 2 am brain is ready to just spill some guts up in here.

Anyway, to wrap this all up, I don’t say any of this to offend or belittle, or imply that what we got was inherently a terrible ending because it rubbed me the wrong way in a few places. It’s still a good ending and suits the themes well while being pretty believable and fairly true to life. These are just my stipulations with it, and if any of you guys would like to add your own two cents go ahead and reply to this :0 I’ll probably respond, I like chatting about this sort of stuff. If not, I hope this made some amount of sense and didn’t come across as too mean-spirited XP But if it did, oh well, I guess that’s just how it’s gonna be

Now I should probably go to sleep -.-

#amphibia #amphibia ending #future #talking about the ending #my thoughts #this probably makes no sense-sorry

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laurenceslife · 1 year

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Chapter 41

Next year, he only got little parts so Hajna did several babysitter jobs, and they only waited for some directors’ forgetting Larry’s mistake he made last year. Sometimes he often went to auditions, also touring some other cities, looking for theaters and presenting himself for every role, and sometimes he gave it up and only waited. He varied these two reactions. Sometimes he hanged on every leaf of grass, and sometimes he was strong enough to be able to concede that the time hadn’t come yet when directors would trust in him again. Financially, they had still been making ends meet but not that much that they could have had a child, and it also frustrated him that mainly his wife supported him, and he cooked at home while Hajna was studying or working. He got fed up being in this women’s role which these two things’ sum caused.

- Happy birthday - Hajna woke him up after a kiss on July 30th.

The boy petulantly turned around, and moaned that he was still sleepy.

Hajna edgily got up, and hurried out to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Some minutes later, Larry appeared, and ate the omelet fast; during it, he didn't say a word to his wife.

Hajna was only furiously watching it.

- Aren't you eating anything? - the boy was surprised at it.

- I'm off my food - Hajna said in an accusatory voice, and left the kitchen with fast steps.

- I did this all because of you! - Larry went after her furiously.

Hajna was sulkily watching TV on the sofa.

- And what about me? What do you think, don’t I try to indulge you?! – she shouted; during it, she turned off the TV, and hotly stood up.

- Don’t you understand?! I canceled my role because of you, and now I’m treated harshly; nobody wants me! – Larry raged.

- And is it good now this way? Is this what you wanted?! – his wife asked with teary eyes – I did everything so it would be worth the sacrifice; till now, I was tolerant to you, I endured that you’re having withdrawal symptoms because of acting! – she said tauntingly.

- It’s not only about that. Who knows till when I’m not getting any roles, and then what will become of us financially too! – Larry said angrily, with narrow eyes – By the way, thanks for the birthday present! It was freaking good, beginning my day like this today! – he said ironically.

- Just think! – Hajna shouted – What do you think, didn’t you ask for it?! You’re constantly huffy ‘cause you don’t get any normal roles! You’re punishing me like I would have asked you to cancel your part so we also paid the breach of covenant! Just think of it! – she yelled.

Larry was standing in front of her without a word, reflecting on the other side of the living room, and then began to speak.

- I’m sorry – he said, walking up to Hajna, and took her hands.

His wife was trembling and crying.

The boy kissed her, and she was just standing brokenly, but then they embraced each other, and Larry kissed her again.

- Say that you’ll never be like that to me! – Hajna said, sobbing – You’ll change from today, won’t you?

- I’ll try it – the boy said.

His wife’s face had still been tearful while they were kissing.

Larry treated Hajna better and better every day, what he succeeded in achieving partly by love, besides his endeavor that with utilizing his actor’s talent, he pretended satisfaction, dissembling that he had „withdrawal symptoms” because he couldn’t be playing, and he also thought about it as acting; by it, he eased his lack of appearances and filming. But he dreaded that till when this status would last, that he didn't get work, couldn’t play, they didn't have enough money anymore, and he was the one who had more time so he had to cook at home like some housewife.

- Howdy! What’s for dinner? – his wife came home one evening cheerfully.

- I ordered some pizza – the boy said briefly, watching TV on the living room’s caramel leather sofa, with a beer in his hand, sitting so loosely that he was almost lying.

- Hi Hajna! – Dennis, who was sitting in the armchair, greeted her.

- Hello! – Tom waved from the other armchair. Hajna only then noticed that they were also sitting there in the dark with her husband and watching a match.

- Hi – she said in an expressionless voice, and went into the kitchen – Have you guys eaten? – she shouted from there.

- Aha – Tom shouted.

Hajna ate the leftover alone, at the table, reflecting. In the background, the men sometimes shouted with joy and sometimes in rage when their favorite or the other team scored a point. During it, Hajna realized how slowly she was eating because she was mostly thinking.

By the time she had eaten up, the match had even come to an end, and the guests had left.

- Tomorrow I'm gonna go out for a girly night with Susy and Barbie - she notified jauntily, picking up the beer bottles from the coffee table with graceful movements.

- OK - her husband said briefly, and drank a sip of the beer that was still in his hand.

Hajna brought the beer bottles to the bin, and when she turned around, Larry already stood there, behind her - I was missing you - he said, embraced her waist, and kissed his wife, who smiled at him. Larry was enjoying this all situation's fitting in movies. He began kissing her, narrowing their clasped hands and Hajna's body with his body, kissing her neck, then her chest. After that, he let loose her hands, was fondling her belly, rolling up her pink T-shirt, then slowly took it off.

- Laurence, we’re in the kitchen! – his wife laughed awkwardly.

- So what? – his husband asked, kissing her belly. And then he stopped it, also took off his own, grayish green T-shirt, and took Hajna’s hand onto his chest, who shyly began fondling it, then she also took a liking for it; during it, they were kissing, and the boy unbuttoned his wife’s purple pants, then slowly took it off. Smiling, Hajna took off Larry’s grayish green pants.

- OK, already we go to the bedroom – she said, still smiling but in a pulling-up voice.

- Isn’t it good here? – the boy asked.

He seated his wife on the counter, and took off her bra, then was fondling her breasts while kissing her lips. Hajna embraced his neck, grinning embarrassed, and later, they took off their last pieces of clothing.

- I can’t believe that we were doing it in the kitchen! – Hajna laughed after making love, while dressing, picking up her clothes from the green-blue tiles.

- Why? – the boy asked during dressing the same way.

Her wife left the kitchen without a word and went to make the bed, then went for a stroll with Sophie.

She was mulling the things that happened that night, and already understood everything.

When she had arrived home, Larry happened to be watching a darting action movie with one of his favorite actors in it.

Hajna began to smile by it – So the night was continuing on the same line – she thought.

- You’ve been missing this dudes’ life, right? – she sat down next to him, embraced him, and gave a kiss on his face.

Her husband was so much immersed in the movie that didn’t even answer but was only watching the portrayal of his favorite actor in the high action scene. Now he was like a little boy.

- I’m going to take a shower – Hajna said objectively, stood up from the sofa, and disappeared.

When she had finished it off, Larry had been sleeping in the bedroom already; he had already had a shower before the movie.

When his wife had gone to sleep, he woke up.

- You'll surely get a job soon – Hajna said, embracing the boy’s waist – You’re talented like your favorite actor, so you’re gonna be the main earner soon, and I’ll work less and also I’ll be the one who cooks – she finished the sentence, laughing.

- Thanks – Larry said, turning towards his wife – Really thank you for enduring this day with my virility inroad… It was good to be a man again.

- You’re always even very manly; you should know and feel it too.

- I know but till now, I hadn’t been behaving according to it. Sometimes I need to give in to this behavior while practically I’m the wife.

- I know. I understand it. And I love it when you show that you’re some guy inside too – she smiled.

- What about from now on it’s being this way every day and my just ordering food?

Hajna looked at him in the dark, startled.

- I was just kidding! – Larry laughed – I got you!

They were talking long, and fell asleep in each other��s embracing arms.

Next day, Hajna didn’t have to work so they spent the whole day watching movies; for Hajna’s sake, they were also watching some romantic ones, and for Larry’s sake, they were also watching some comic book-movies, and at night, they were having a dinner in the restaurant because Hajna adjourned her girly engagement for next night, when she went shopping with her friends, and Larry went to smoke a cigar with his father.

Next day, Hajna was working, and Larry was meeting with some of his cousins at Bruce's house, and they were talking in the big living room.

After Bruce's wife, Allisha had finished cooking the lunch off, they were having a lunch together, and they invited Hajna too.

- It's still possible for you to have manly engagements, moreover, even more often - Hajna was happy about Larry's happiness during the ride home.

- But only ‘cause this time I didn't have to cook - her husband complained.

- Why?! You don't cook all day normally either! - Hajna comforted him, embracing him from the passenger's seat.

- But my friends rarely have time ‘cause they are also co-stars – Larry said bitterly.

- You’ll be that, too. That can happen anytime – his wife said, fondled his back and kissed his face.

- You’re right – the boy sighed.

When they had arrived home, Hajna was doing some housework, and Larry was reading comic books all day, and at night, they were making love, which Larry was in a much better mood by.

Next day, Hajna went to work, and Larry was reading, saw a movie, and talked to Tom on the phone after watching a documentary film. Hattie invited them for dinner, and was squealing and cussing for much less time to his son than they thought because he wasn’t working.

Every day when his wife worked, the boy amused himself by watching manly action movies of his favorite actors, reading comic books and watching documentary movies, and when their friends had time, he went to manly engagements with them or spent his time with Mike or his godsons and Renée, or with his cousins when he wasn’t making dinner at home for the time when Hajna went home. With the exception of the latter thing and with the exception of the fact that mainly the woman supported him, he was satisfied with his life about everything.

- Sometimes you could come with me and the girls to chat, too – Hajna remarked incidentally after Larry turned off the TV after watching sci-fi.

- OK - he sighed after standing up from the sofa and setting off for the kitchen, to take the lunch out from the fridge.

- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it. Surely some girly engagements would put the lid on it to you when mainly I support you and you cook at home… - his wife went after him.

- Well, yeah – her husband said in an expressionless voice and deadpan way, taking the potatoes out.

- What to do after lunch? – Hajna asked, taking the meat out.

- I have no idea – Larry said a bit rudely; during it, they had started to the table.

- What about going to the cinema with Barbie and Suzy instead of chinning? – Hajna asked cheerfully.

Larry would have turned the table of his wife by choice. He didn’t feel like spending his time with women, and was fed up with Hajna’s mollycoddling him like he was even a child.

But he knew that his wife meant well so he only primly began to speak:

- My mind is up – he said after a bite of meat – I’m gonna go back to the punk club.

- By it, at least you’ll have some more work; you’re not gonna sit at home, and you can revive the friendship with the boys – Hajna said approvingly – And being a bouncer is even a very manly job – she said passionately, and kissed her husband.

Exactly this was what Larry wanted. Hajna wasn’t like his husband or mother for him anymore; she didn’t have to comfort him.

He fraternized with Fishbone again, and also, Hajna cooked the dinners because she could quit her babysitter job.

This year, Larry got to two more parts, and he also started to play in plays again. Hajna became a casting director, and Larry quit the punk club for good because he didn’t have time to work in it, because of memorizing his parts, being on the rehearsals, appearances and filming, and he didn’t even need that to prove that he was the man at the house. When he was at home, he cooked, and when his wife was at home, then she cooked; sometimes they also cooked together, and already mainly he was the one who supported Hajna.

One day, in June 1987, Larry carefully got up from the bed because he woke up earlier. He went to take a shower, and made the morning toast, ate it alone, and then, because his script that he needed to review, was in the bedroom, he was only reading a book. He also took to novels, but still mostly comic books were what he read and collected.

During it, Hajna woke up, and crawled out of the room, rumpled, sleepily, wearing a light blue, short nightdress with white flower heads on it. Larry loved this come unfastened; when she wore that, she also looked good this time because it drew attention to her body.

Hajna took a shower, too, then ate a yogurt and a sandwich; during it, she was staring into space and reflecting.

Larry perused the chapter, then went into the bedroom for his script.

After reading it through, he went to the filming location, and only came home late at night but at least he was playing a leading role at last.

He was still reading in the living room to become sleepy enough, and then it was already too late to stay up on, so carefully opened the door of the room, but wonderingly saw that there was still light, and in this moment, Hajna stood up from the bed, and there was something special in her look when she looked at her husband.

- Will we talk? - she asked suddenly with a little girlish shyness and excitedly.

- Talk about what? – the boy looked at her, uncomprehending.

- What was the filming like? – his wife asked, still excitedly and tensely.

- It took almost half of the day, shooting K. D. Lang's scene – he remembered discontentedly.

- And what are you planning for tomorrow?

- Since it’s the weekend tomorrow, I think I’ll have a rest and watch TV or read, then we could go somewhere. Why, what have you been planning?

- The working and resting life’s gonna change soon - his wife smiled mysteriously - Nine months later, our life's gonna be all spending our time with a baby and looking after her or him! - she said joyously, grinning broadly.

- I know, we stopped using contraceptives ‘cause we could support him or her normally already. Or you’re already pregnant? – Larry finished, startled.

Hajna nodded with a smile from ear to ear.

- But are you sure? Have you also been to the doctor already? – the boy asked.

- Yesterday afternoon – his wife still smiled with teary eyes.

- My son will be the toughest, coolest guy, and he’ll definitely learn biking already at three, and the girls will be dead nuts about him already in the kindergarten! – the boy praised exuberantly, joyously and roughly.

- I hate you, you selfish, first-grader sexist! - Hajna jogged him, going into her tantrums - Who said at all that he's gonna be a boy?! And imagine, the baby’s not gonna be only yours! And realize that you're already gonna be a 26-year-old father, but you understand this all and speak about it like a little adolescent boy! - she jostled him on.

First, Larry became paralyzed and was startled, looking at Hajna like she was lunatic, and then he cracked up because the hormones so soon and so much started to affect her because of her pregnancy.

- And now what is it?! - his wife yelled.

- You're like a pregnancy send-up! - the boy said, laughing.

Some seconds later, Hajna already laughed, too.

- So what to do now? Should we go marketing for the baby? – Larry asked confusedly and unsteadily after they had cooled down.

- Already now?! – his wife asked joyously and in surprise.

- For all I know, we can even go. We should do it nowadays, while I’m not filming.

- OK! – Hajna jumped cheerfully.

- You really should be an actor, too! Every situation has much more powerful effects on you! - Larry laughed, and they went to sleep, laughing - By the way, I take this child-thing seriously - he began to speak a bit later - I love you, and I look forward to having a common baby who won't only be mine, and you know that I love kids.

- I know - his wife said in a serious and melting voice.

- And I'll love her if she's gonna be a girl, as much as if he's gonna be a boy; from now, I'll be careful not to say equivocal things ‘cause nowadays you're too irritable about everything. And not only in my interest but in your and the baby's interest too, so you don't fret too much and redundantly.

Next day, after breakfast, they went to marketing.

The boy funnily remarked that it was better now that Hajna wasn’t driving because it would have been dangerous to sit behind the steering wheel during those big thrills. Larry was the one who was driving, anyway, his wife was so much rejoicing because they were already going shopping for the baby that maybe he was really better to do it. During the ride, in broad strokes, they talked their plans over about the style but knew that partly the arrival would choose.

They chose a white cradle with beautiful graven markings, a light blue carpet with tiny, multicolored pattern, a monochrome, light green wardrobe, a light bluish green changing table, blue and green patterned facing paper, and a white chandelier that was fraught with a lot of patterns. Of clothes, they bought white, light blue, light green and patterned ones. While the baby's sex hadn't come out, they hadn't bought any more rompers.

Of the blankets and swaddling-clothes, they bought white ones, and on the baby carriage, white overcame with a little bit of light blue. They chose a light blue curtain and some different colored baby toys, some such pictures on the wall of cartoon characters, and they also bought a light brown wood shelf for the toys. They also bought a pacifier and a nursing bottle in advance.

These were gotten out to them already that day, and they hired a moving company for the furnishing.

The cradle got beside the door of the children's room, the wardrobe got to the right, the changing table opposite the cradle, and the pictures beside the door and opposite it.

Larry's friends didn't have time yet so the boy invited his parents first, to share the good news with them. Hajna called her parents later because her husband outran her, and Larry's mother and father almost immediately set off because they were happy about it because their son invited them on rare occasions, but they hadn't suspected anything yet.

Larry and Hajna only showed them the children's room, and by figuring that out by it and by the pair's visible happiness, they already knew that Hajna was already pregnant.

- How come you two have already done the shopping?! Or since when have you two known the news? - Hattie asked cheerfully, sitting in the living room's armchair. Larry and Hajna were sitting on the sofa, and Laurence was sitting in the other armchair.

- We already felt like doing it. In the end, what should we wait for? - Hajna answered joyously and flung up.

- I just got to know it last night, and she just got to know it one day earlier, too - the boy answered the other question.

- Then we're gonna meet more often at least, from when the baby is born and I have a grandchild here too, right? - his mother smiled but her voice was a bit strict.

- If you don't dun me constantly. If I would have given you some money, we wouldn't have even been able to do the shopping for the baby; we couldn't have even had a child. The reason why it took so much time to be able to have a child, was because I didn't have enough work - Larry changed the moral to be serious, moreover, his hard voice made the whole atmosphere cold - If you're that freaking smart, how do you think that with that little money, we could even support a child?!

- Both of you have salaries. There was the bouncer job too - Hattie said a bit hard.

- And you believe one can earn so good money at that job - the boy looked at her furiously - Besides, I wouldn't have time for my family, friends, acting, and to be a bouncer too! - he said very furiously.

- I won't listen to you - his mother stood up - If you called me here to talk to me like this, I'm out of here! - she put on her purse.

- Just tell us what you guys think about who's right! - the boy looked at Hajna, then at Laurence - You guys don't have to be afraid, we negative this freaking smart schoolmaster! - he said mockingly.

- I’d just like to ask: did you want any grandchild? - Hajna asked, shyly looking up at her mother-in-law.

Hattie couldn't answer because she knew what her daughter-in-law was going to also ask.

- If so, you take the money from the baby?! - Hajna, in a lachrymose voice and with teary eyes, asked what her mother-in-law was afraid of.

- The child already really doesn't owe you anything - Larry said.

- They are right - his father said resolutely.

- I observed your talent, I prepared you for this career, I pushed you to prepare for your parts; I am thanked for the success and money, and that's how you show gratitude for these?! - Hattie looked at her son furiously, and said these, almost shouting - It's your problem how you two solve having a baby, but that money's still my due, too - she continued in a lower voice but extremely furiously, and left.

- After this, no wonder you won't get anything from me later either! - Larry shouted after her.

- When did she become so selfish? - his father got up from the armchair; his voice was surprised and indignant - She begrudges her son and grandchild their money... - he said furiously – I’m better to leave, too – he set off – And don’t give her a cent - he looked at his son, then went out through the door, shaking his head.

- You'll never let the kid lack anything because of her, right? - Hajna asked, crying.

- No, I won't, I promise - the boy took his wife's face in his hands, and Hajna wreathed her arms round his neck.

- You'll never give her any money until the kid grows up? - Hajna asked, sobbing, almost in a tantrum.

- No, and I won't later either; if she doesn't change, she never gets anything from me - her husband said hard and resolutely.

Still sobbing from the tension’s effect, Hajna hugged him, and the boy embraced her too. He kissed her, and they began kissing.

Two hours later, Hajna’s parents already came. Till then, Larry and his wife were watching a movie, cuddling on the sofa, and stood up only then, to answer the door.

With them, talking already went much more easily, apart from that Larry and Hajna had still been in the blues a bit after that hospitality which went to the dogs.

Earlier, on the phone, Hajna had already told them that she was expecting a baby, but she and Larry also ardently showed them the children's room as soon as they had arrived. After that, they were having lunch together and talking during it.

After they had left, Larry and Hajna were watching movies in the future too, to calm down. They were watching several movies at a stretch, cuddling on the sofa.

After that, Hajna went shopping with Suzy and Barbie to distance herself from that state of mind, and she also told them the news that she was expecting a baby.

During it, Larry called his cousins to a bar to drink, and he also told them that he and Hajna were expecting a child and had already done the shopping for the baby, and had even furnished the baby's room.

Next day, they had gotten over yesterday's quarrel already, and only cared for the joys of expecting the baby. Hajna woke up at nine in the morning; Larry had already gotten up half an hour ago.

The mother-to-be felt queasy while going to take a shower which she felt better by, and by the time she had toweled, done her hair, done up her face, got dressed and made the bed, she was even hungry.

Larry was watching TV in the living room, and Hajna sat down next to him, kissed him, and began glutting the omelet that was on the plate that was in her hand and that the boy made for breakfast not to have to wait for his wife, and so she wouldn't have to be cooking anything anymore.

Hajna, after eating it, returned with a bowl of muesli, and engorged that too.

Larry laughed, and it came into his head that he hadn't even told the good news to the friends, godsons and goddaughter of his. He immediately wanted to tell them too.

He went over to the bedroom, and called Martin.

- Hello, it's Larry - he began almost laughingly, and joyously - To you, I haven't even told the news - he continued effusively - We're gonna have a kid with Hajna! Tell it to the boys and Renée too!

- Since when have you known it? - the man was surprised at it.

- Hajna told me the day before yesterday, and she just got to know it on the previous day, too - the boy said excitedly and joyously - Yesterday we've already bought the baby everything, and furnished the children's room! Hajna's wild with joy, too, and couldn't wait on. And she already produces inordinate sentiments by her hormones, and eats so much! - he began laughing.

- She's surely already several weeks pregnant, just she got to know it now. It's usually this way. I remember it like it was yesterday that Janet was pregnant with one of the kids, although she bore it comparatively well, that’s why she didn’t mind having this many children – the man said cheerfully.

- I see. I won’t be hindering you anymore; I’ll call Dennis too.

- No, you didn’t hinder me my friend! And congratulations for the baby who’s under way!

- Thank you – Larry said joyously – And congratulations for raising that many kids – he laughed – Well, bye – he said cheerfully.

- Bye – his friend said with a smile in his voice.

The boy immediately called Dennis, and told the good news to him too.

- Congratulations man! – he said cheerfully, almost laughingly – Since when have you known it?

- I found out about it two days ago.

- I bet Hajna’s already done the shopping in advance.

- Yeah. Yesterday we went to do it between the two of us. Imagine, she eats so much and is quite capable of bellowing about everything, and is easily upset, but mostly rejoices by expecting a baby! – Larry laughed.

- Who have you called already?

- Evidently my parents and cousins, and Martin.

- I see. At least your mom won’t dun you on now when her grandchild needs your money, too.

- That would be nice – Larry said dryly – We had a so big quarrel over it that she stormed out of the house.

- You’re not serious? – the man was taken aback.

- I don’t know what’s going to happen ’cause I surely won’t apologize, and she never goes without money – Larry’s voice was furious – Maybe she only made me a star to live on me forever!

- This is no nothing. But that's still surely not true. Every mother loves her kid the best in the world.

- Well, this one doesn't. I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t talk to each other for two years again.

- I'm sorry man. I hope everything will be alright.

- Thanks… Well, I’m going. Bye.

- Bye…

Larry went back to the living room to watch TV where Hajna was eating again: happen to be then, she was eating bread and jam with cuts. It also cheered the boy up then, and kissed his wife, laughing.

- I can’t help coveting these together! – Hajna said.

- I know – her husband smiled, and kissed her again – Just lest you feel unwell again.

- OK – his wife smiled during eating – By the way, sometimes I feel unwell already – his wife said in a whining voice – But it’s not ‘cause I eat this much, neither because of this coupling; these all are by the pregnancy! – she said resentfully.

- I know, like these extreme emotional changes are by that, too – Larry laughed, and kissed her as making it up to her.

They saw a movie, then Hajna went shopping, and Larry was reading.

- I’ve been considering what the kid’s name should be – the wife said joyously after she had arrived at home, put the bought stuff to their places, and returned to the living room, to the boy.

- So what should it be? – Larry put down the book cheerfully, and laid on his back on the sofa.

- If he’s gonna be a boy or if she’s gonna be a girl? – Hajna lumped down to either of the armchairs, legs drawn up.

- Just don’t say that he should be Laurence if he’s gonna be a boy! – her husband turned towards her, frowning – Already so many of us are named Laurence in the family; it’s even impossible to distinguish us.

- And why don’t we name him after my dad? – it came into Hajna’s head.

- Well, that’s already a much better idea. And what if she’s gonna be a girl?

- What about your mom’s name?

- No, that’s too old-fashioned. Besides, she doesn’t deserve it…

- Well, you’re right about it – his wife said angrily.

- Of course we won’t name her after that person who wants to withdraw his father’s money from him! – the boy stood up from the sofa, raving – It’s better if nobody and nothing reminds us of that twist – he began strolling about edgily.

Then he noticed that Hajna was crying.

- Oh you know that I’m not gonna give my mother a cent! – he went up to her and kissed her.

- I know… Let's not even talk about it!

From the next day, he really didn’t talk about it with Hajna. He held it back, not to express his anger in his wife’s presence but only with their cousins and friends, but then he didn’t take it out on them, either, on the other hand, he furiously spoke about his mother, and hadn’t even talked to her for three months. During the first month, Hattie didn’t call her son, either, and then she tried to make peace. On the other hand, she dunned Larry in the future too. When she called them on the phone, the boy even dropped the call, and when Hajna answered the phone, she begged her to let them alone, crying, or yelled at her on the phone.

- From now, I’ll be the one who answers the phone when it rings, and I’ll only give it over to you if who’s calling you, isn’t that twist – Larry said furiously when Hajna got up at eleven in the morning, and the boy was sitting in the living room, in either of the armchairs – You couldn’t fall asleep for hours again, you were only sobbing almost all night. I won’t let us lose our baby, I won’t let you suffer because of that selfish, extortionate, unjust bastard, either!

- What family is this child gonna be born into? – his wife sat down – Where there’s hatred between her or his grandma and parents? – she began crying again.

Her husband couldn’t see it anymore; he rather went to cook lunch.

When it was half-finished, the phone rang. He answered it before Hajna could do it.

It was Barbie so he gave the receiver over with relief, then went back to continue cooking, not to have to hear the way his wife was complaining about her mother-in-law. He couldn’t see her suffering anymore.

After he had been ready, he had to set off for a filming location, and came home in the evening. Hajna was still watching TV, sitting on the sofa of the living room.

- I’ve arrived – Larry kissed her, sat down next to her, and was fondling her belly.

- Today nobody called us - Hajna said wonderingly - It seems like your mother has resigned herself to the fact that she's not gonna get anything from us. Maybe we will make peace with her after a while? - she turned off the TV, and looked at the boy who had still been fondling the baby.

- I hope so. The kid really can't grow up in such a family like this.

- How could we make peace with her? Money's necessary for everything, but our money’s what she wants! - she stared ahead desperately.

- Maybe if we named the child after her if she's gonna be a girl, and we brought her to her place every day and we were there for a lot of times - her husband considered it.

- And what if it's not enough?

- If she really went without the money how you said it, then we can do nothing more, anyway, and she knows it, too. She's just angry with us for a while ‘cause we didn't give it to her.

- And what if he's gonna be a boy?

- Then we should name him after her father. Or she can name him. It's more important that in what family he grows up than what his name is...

- You're right.

- Now everything will be alright. Calm down, and let's go to sleep - Larry kissed her, and went to take a shower. Hajna took a shower in the morning so now she only made the bed and changed.

In the bed, she was still waiting for Larry not to wake up when he would come to sleep, too; during it, she was considering the issue on. Larry was considering it under the shower, too.

- What do you think, should we call your mom to get to know for sure enough where we are? - Hajna asked the next morning, while they were eating sunny-side up which she coveted.

- For the time being, let’s wait, and if she wants something from us, she’s gonna call us, even if she wants money, even if she wants to make peace.

- It’s the same, there’s no need to worry in advance, and it just would be bad for the baby.

After breakfast, Larry reviewed his parts of the script, then went to either of the sets, and Hajna’s friends visited her, and either of them gave her a baby boy cloth and the other gave her a baby girl cloth. She was moved that Barbie and Suzy thought of her and the baby, and she was completely flung up.

They went to a restaurant to have lunch together, then, at home, she was leisurely reading a magazine, and watching TV.

For dinner, she ate a bowl of fried chicken with French fries, and when her husband had arrived, she happened to be eating doughnuts in front of the TV.

- Has my mother called us? – Larry sat down next to her tensely.

- Still nothing – Hajna turned off the TV.

- If she wanted to make peace, she already would have called us – the boy said objectively – She realized that she won’t get anything from us, anyway, but hasn’t forgiven it to us.

- We have to do what you planned – his wife said resolutely.

- Tomorrow we will go to her place, tell her that we wanna make peace, don’t wanna quarrel anymore, and we’re ready to take the baby to her every day, even for several hours, and we’re also ready to name the kid after her or let her name the baby.

- That’s gonna be OK.

Next day, they arranged it during their breakfast when they were going to have time to do it. It was a weekend; filming was pausing, Hajna wasn’t working, either, and Hattie wasn’t teaching, either. Hajna’s parents were going to come in the morning so they planned to go to Larry’s mother’s place in the afternoon.

After the pair had left, Larry and Hajna began watching a movie, but they were so tense and excited about the meeting with Hattie that they couldn't be enjoying it, so rather got it over with trying to make peace.

- Maybe she won’t even be home – the boy said tensely in the car.

- When will we get it done at last? – his wife whined in pain because of the possibility that today, they wouldn’t be able to talk to the woman in the flesh yet – Maybe we should have called her to know if she’s home.

- But maybe then she wouldn’t even let us in if she knew that we’re gonna go to her place, and if we would have started talking to make peace on the phone, that wouldn’t have been effective enough.

- Yeah, you’re right. Then we shouldn’t call her on the phone – Hajna said restlessly.

- That’s risky. If we blew in uninvited after such a scary or annoying experience, she still would be mad at us if she would realize that we were who rang her, or she wouldn’t feel like making peace with anybody after that annoying experience. Maybe by the time we would arrive, she still wouldn't cool off, as an addition, by the time we would arrive, there would be much possibility that she already left, and she could also return; so it would be unnecessary to test it if she would be home by then.

- That’s right. We may have to travel a lot until she happens to be home - his wife got frightened – Till when do we have to live doubtfully until it comes out if we succeeded in making peace with her? – she sighed.

- Cool it, there’s much chance of her being home. And a long time isn’t gonna pass until we make a lucky hit when she's home.

- I’m already so dithering ‘cause maybe we won’t succeed in making peace with her! – Hajna sighed again – Maybe I’m not even ready for it yet.

- The longer you postpone it the more stressful you'll be by the time we’ve got to try it. Besides, we know what to say, and I'm an actor so I can also play that I'm not angry with her anymore.

- What do you think, will you also really make peace with her one day? - his wife asked after a half minute of silence.

- How should I know? – Larry’s voice was edgy – It only depends on what she will be to us like. If she doesn't mention it anymore that she wants me to give her any of my salary, after a while, I forget what a twist she used to be.

- And later, when you can do it already, do you give her any money from your salary?

- I don't know. It's gonna be the biggest performance of my life, playing that I forgive that grandchild killer - the boy said extremely furiously - She doesn't even care about if the baby dies of starvation. It's disgusting.

- And who knows till when we’ve got to play it – Hajna said furiously, too.

They turned in the last street before Hattie’s block.

- Now we’ve got to cool off and concentrate on the role – her husband said.

Hajna heaved a sigh in rage instead of saying out loud that she was talking exactly about it.

When they had arrived at Hattie’s road, Hajna was already crying.

- I can’t do it, playing like your mom doesn’t want our baby or me to die of hunger! I can’t save the kid’s walks of life, I can’t be friends with the baby’s grandma! – she sobbed.

Larry stopped the car to the side of the road.

- Make an effort! Now you can’t give up! We came till here; already bear it! – he yelled at her.

- If you’re speaking to me like this, I can’t calm down! – his wife continued, crying.

- Your hormones are the reason why you’re in this state of mind – the boy continued in a normal voice – Calm down, we’ll succeed in doing it – he hugged her, then wiped Hajna’s tears, and kissed her several times – By the time the baby’s born, it’s gonna be much easier.

- OK - his wife said, still in a weeping voice.

- Heave some sighs.

Hajna complied, and they started again. During it, the hitch of Hajna's breath respiration, which was by crying, stopped.

By the time they had arrived, she was already OK.

- Are you ready for the role? - the boy asked, fondling his wife's face and hair - If you're unwell, now I'll do it alone, just come in with me.

- I'm OK - Hajna said seriously.

- So that's OK.

They got out of the car, went up to the second floor in the stairwell, holding each other's hand, and Larry rang the bell.

Hattie's husband answered the door but he was also surprised that they came there.

- Hattie went shopping but will come soon. Come in - he said, startled.

Hajna began feeling rum, and sighed because they hadn't been able to get it over with it yet.

They sat down in the living room; the pair sat down next to each other on the dark brown sofa, and the man to either of the armchairs.

- We haven’t been here for a pretty long time past - the boy remarked awkwardly.

- Should I bring something to drink? - Kevin asked.

- No, thanks.

- I’d like a juice - Hajna said, not to have to be talking to the man during that, who she didn't count on. She had no idea about if the woman would be at home, but she thought they would go somewhere together with her husband, and she didn’t even have an idea about what to say to him until Hattie would arrive.

- Thank you. How are you two? - she asked after Kevin had put the glass to the coffee table.

The man sighed.

- Financially, we're not doing too well. For that matter, we even almost lost our marriage because I hadn't agreed with her because she was so offended that you two didn't give her any money while you two didn’t even know what the situation is, as an addition, you two are expecting a child. She didn’t count on it, and couldn’t observe that because of this, you couldn’t give any of your salary, even if you two would have known what the situation is – he looked at Larry.

- And why doesn’t she call us at least just to tell us that she gave it up? – the boy asked.

Then Hattie had arrived home.

- Because I’ve been feeling like I don’t deserve you two after I tried to bump my son and his pregnant wife – the woman began to speak with teary eyes – After I presumed some money for the last time, Kevin at last succeeded in persuading me to stop that quarrel with you two what he had a quarrel with me over, too. He said if I wouldn’t stop it, we would divorce. This shock put ideas into my head to see things realistically, that what I asked for, was impossible. Please forgive me – she finished it, and set off to hug her son and daughter-in-law, crying.

- If you two can't make ends meet this way, then from now, we'll give you a bit of our salary – Hajna said, standing flabbergasted after she had hugged them.

- I want my grandchild to want for nothing – she said seriously and strictly after they sat down.

- Well, it's OK – her daughter-in-law said shyly.

- You’ve been really having a run for my money, but me too. Moreover, I've been doing it in a more effective way ‘cause I didn't really learn anything in the acting schools – Larry said.

Everybody looked at the boy disappointedly, disdainfully and flabbergasted.

- But if I had known that you two went bust, I would have helped. You could have spoken instead of not calling us anymore; you could have told us. Especially Kevin wouldn’t ask for your taking him with you into poverty and his marriage’s stopping with you after he still stood up for us against you – he continued.

Hattie moved, and Kevin began to smile.

They were talking about the child, about what the baby's name should be, where he or she should go to day-nursery, to kindergarten, to school, to high school and to university. They were also talking about some relations: David and his fiancée, Jessica and her husband, Ben and his wife, Laura and her husband, Bruce, his wife and their child, and Lar, his wife and two children. It was so good to be together in peace again after so much time that Larry and his wife only went home two and half hours later.

- We couldn't have even succeeded in doing it even better – Hajna said joyously in the car.

- I never thought that’s why my mother didn’t call us nowadays, even though they're nearly bankrupt – the boy said, staring ahead seriously.

- I never thought about it, either – his wife reflected.

- I knew there was more to this than what meets the eye. To such a smart woman like her, it could cotton on to her that besides the kid, I can't really give her any of my money. She’s never been poor and just started becoming impoverished now. She panicked ’cause she can't buy any pretty clothes and cosmetics anymore. I should have thought that after a while, her undue womanliness would get away with her...

- Clothes and beauty products can't be more important to her than her son and her grandchild! – his wife said with hatred and disgust.

- It seems poverty's coming drove her insane, and Kevin's threat with divorce was what brought her to her senses, so she thinks the right way about list of priorities and normal human sentiments.

- Well, I don't know any better exposition to it, either. There's no one more mother and grandma who thinks appearance more important than her loved ones – Hajna said in horror and with hatred in her voice.

- I believed she's a real woman, but such a mother and grandma who prefers her own look, isn't even a woman but is just a plastic Barbie doll... – already the boy's voice and look were full of disgust and anger, too – But she returned to reason at last, and they would get turned out soon – he sighed – We can still give them a little money. Of your salary, you don't have to give her any, and I won’t give her much of mine either. We won’t take over poverty only for her flourish – Larry’s voice turned furious again.

- But she already changed. Let’s stop this enmity, the child can’t grow up this way, that’s why we came – Hajna began crying.

- I know, you’re right. I’m gonna be putting on a show… But I’ll never forget that move of her, and for a while, I can’t forgive her for that, either.

After going home, Hajna went shopping with her girlfriends, and Larry went to watch a match with Lemuel, to get over the events that were emotionally unsettling and cloying, and to spiritually convert to different, casual things.

At night, the boy went to a bar with Martin and his sons, and Hajna went to a concert with her sister to feel their visit at Hattie's place farther by the many events.

Next day, they hardly could get up due to the long night of partying, but Larry had to because he had to go to be filming, and because of it, he didn't drink that much that he would have been hung over, to be able to work. His wife woke up but fell back to sleep.

The boy ate a muesli, and already set off.

Hajna got up at eleven, ate a sandwich, and called her mother.

- Mom, you won’t believe what happened! – she said meaningfully.

- Did some trouble happen? – the woman asked, frightened – Are you and the baby OK?

- Already everything’s alright. We made peace with Laurence’s mother – her daughter said, very much relieved – I just don’t know what I feel! – she continued desperately – Sometimes I’m angry with her ’cause she thought her beauty products were more important than the kid, but sometimes I feel peace ’cause she changed at last. Imagine what happened! They became poor with her husband, and she couldn’t endure that she can’t afford beauty-things! She rather dunned Laurence's salary which one of us would die of starvation by if he gave it to her, only ’cause she hasn't gotten used to poverty ’cause she’d never experienced it, so her look became her mania! – Hajna said with disgust and scorn.

Her mother was completely floored for quite many seconds.

- And it surely scares her that she's already in grandmothers' age so she feels old.

- If you too consider your beauty more important than your grandchild, I will ring off now, immediately – her daughter said extremely furiously.

- You misunderstand me – the woman said resolutely – I feel with her that she's been fearing for her youth, but I don't feel with her that she cared about that even more than how much she cared about the child.

- And what do you think, is it possible that one day, her vicious self returns? – Hajna asked bitterly.

- I think it depends on what abated it.

- Kevin said if she would remain like that, he would divorce from her. But this shock allegedly put ideas into her head, and the reason why she didn't call us anymore, was because she felt like she didn't deserve us. What do you think, are these tales pure fiction? – Hajna asked, dreading herself.

- If she didn’t call you two anymore, then she abandoned the money. But maybe this is just a tactic so you two forgive her, and she said that they grew poor so you two pity her and give her some money.

- She didn't say it but Kevin. He was the one who stood up for us. Or maybe he's also so vicious like her, and he lied that he stood up for us and that they grew poor! – she jumped out of her skin – Then what to do now?! Should we give them any money or not?! – she asked in a desperate voice.

- Laurence's mom surely doesn't want any of you to die of starvation. She just didn't think of it – the woman's voice was comforting – She didn't dare to think of it while her husband hadn't constrained her to do it. She's not vicious, she was just boggled. I'm sure it’s also been visible in her that she loves you guys. And she’s not an actress, she can't play it.

- You're right. It was visible in her that she very much regretted being like that, and that she had a huge sense of guilt – Hajna reflected – If she had such big talent, that's sure that she would be an actress. Laurence has told me once that the reason why she so much wanted him to be an actor, was ’cause she didn't have talent to be a star, she tried in vain, and she wanted him to achieve it at least instead of her – she said feelingly – I don't feel any anger for her anymore.

Hajna cheerfully and feelingly continued the day under the influence of the conversation. In this mood, she went shopping, cooked a lunch, ate it at the table while watching TV, then washed the dishes, crooning, saw a TV show, read a magazine while listening to the music, had dinner, and was daydreaming about the baby. She was supine, joyously, absently holding her belly on the sofa of the living room when Larry had come home.

She told him about her conversation with her mother, and the boy forgave Hattie, too.

They kept in touch in the future too, and hadn't been quarreling anymore. On the weekends, he met with Mike, sometimes with his cousins, Dennis, Martin and his children, Tom or his parents. Tom married his girlfriend Mimi Rogers this year, and Larry went to the wedding with Hajna.

#laurence fishburne #dennis hopper #tom crusie #mimi rogers #martin sheen #emilio estevez #charlie sheen

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