How can you think this is ok?
Sep. 22nd, 2009 08:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quidamlingFirst - I wrote this in like, 4 hours in a fit of rage. Two women near and dear somehow put up with a lot of shit from men, and seem to think it's ok. That it is what they are worthy of.
Second - No. They have never been hit.
Third - Sadly, everything but that, I have taken straight from things that have happened with them. Minor changes to protect my sanity.
Fourth - I don't know what pisses me off more right now, that they make excuses and put up with it, or that they/no other woman have even shot these men in the balls. They are also getting permission to continue being dicks from every woman that doesn't call him on being a moron.
(Fifth and entirely unrelated, the cops are an AU of Ironhide and Trailbreaker, Heather is Heatseek and this actually fits into that 'verse. The arc was there ages ago, so you can pretend it is simply fic instead of rant.)
...and I yelled at one dear person on the phone during writing this. I feel a little better.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heather thought it was just courtesy for someone she cared about. She always tried to have Lou’s beer stocked in the fridge, she’d stay up if he called and said that he might swing by that night, and she asked where he was if he failed to show, even if he would never tell her.
Of course, they never hung out at Lou’s place. Heather’s was a small apartment, but her furniture was nicer. That, and Lou had his bachelor pad. He needed his space. It didn't help that his parents owned and lived in the other half of the duplex. She had to agree that nothing killed the buzz of a date like having to worry about a man’s parents.
He always used to say that she needed to get out of her pathetic, dead-end job. And Heather had to agree, she had the degree and credentials, but kept getting looked over. He had her best interest at heart, she thought. Maybe it wasn’t phrased in quite the best way, but it was meant to motivate her.
Heather had forgiven the fiasco of the time that they went bike riding. He was much more intense, and as she tried to follow down that embankment it had been her fault that she twisted the tire and tumbled. She’d heard the awful pop in her shoulder on that rock, but was more thankful that she had worn that wussy helmet Lou gave her all the grief about. He’d stopped, but he only had an hour to get to work. One more missed shift and his boss was going to kill him. So the petite little blond understood when he rode on and she had to walk her bike to the restaurant at the end of the park. The owner had been so understanding. He put her bike in the back of his pickup and drove her home.
It was only about $50 for the taxi to the ER. Heather had somehow managed to tear a ligament in her shoulder. She was put in a brace and the surgery was scheduled for a little over a week later. Lou thought it was hilarious. He delighted in waking her with little prods to the brace that left her dizzy and nauseated. That was beyond annoying, but then again, she did get injured in the most pathetic fashion. The man claimed the right to make fun of her.
When Heather got out of the hospital and called his place to see how he was, Lou said he’d been out with the boys a lot. He groused that he missed the sex during those weeks while she was recovering. They took him to a strip joint in sympathy for the nookie shop being closed. She sighed and asked him to come over and see her. Lou said he would try.
Heather didn’t remember the first time she pissed him off enough that he couldn’t help himself. The strike itself was a blur, she just remembered something about Lou suddenly hovering over her. He said that he couldn’t believe he’d done that. He said it would never happen again and brought her a cool washcloth to wipe the trickle of blood from her lip. He said that she had to stop harping about that vacation, he didn’t have the time and a trip with her was not one of his priorities. She’d nodded and curled up on the couch with an icepack on her jaw once he’d gone back to his place. Heather had sighed, she should not have been using all those ‘chick tactics’ that Lou hated.
Some… how, down the line he’d accidentally hit her again. It pretty much went the same way and she forgave him.
One day a coworker asked Heather where she had been tanning. She used to have pale porcelain skin, but lately she had been sporting a much darker complexion. The blond had stammered something about the tanning salon near her apartment. She didn’t need to explain that she had shifted to a much darker makeup foundation. When she pushed Lou too far and he accidentally left a mark on her skin, she needed to cover it up. The questions were just too embarrassing.
The older couple downstairs was starting to pester Heather when they met her in the lobby or the elevator. They asked if she was alright with unnerving consistency. The blond simply smiled and said she was fine, but she could see something in their eyes that said they didn’t believe her no matter how much she gushed. She kept making mental notes to try and keep the volume down if she and Lou were discussing something.
~~~~~~
She blinked up, from… her carpet was cream, not burgundy… and who broke into her apartment? There was a woman on the other side of the couch, yelling at her floor. Why-? Of course her floor was going to stay down. That was where it lived. The woman had black hair, tied back, and was pointing her arms at something Heather couldn’t see… then there was a ratcheting sound of metal. Oh, there was someone else. A man, big, and wearing the same clothes as the woman. Same clothes, uniforms. They were cops? Why… were cops… and he was hauling Lou to his feet? The woman snorted and walked over to Heather. She was really tall, no, Heather was laying on the floor. How?
The officer’s expression softened and she said something. Heather drifted bleary eyes up and tried to form a question. The other woman chewed on her cheek and barked into the radio at her shoulder. Then the officer’s voice started to come into focus.
“Easy, easy, an ambulance is on the way. You probably have a concussion.”
Heather reached up to brush the sweat from her brow, her hand came away red, which clashed with the purple on her wrist and she wiped it distractedly on the carpet. “Wwhere’s you t-takin’ Lou?” She twisted and rolled to sneak a look under the table at the man who had carted out her hollering boyfriend. All she could see was the broken doorframe.
“He won’t hurt you anymore.”
“Wha-?” The floor was comfy, even with these random aches and some weird woman talking nonsense. She mumbled and let her eyes close.
“No! No, you have to stay awake.” The woman patted Heather’s cheek and she whimpered in reply. Pale blue eyes fluttered open a moment, she could see the police officer, but things seemed dim, narrow, and getting darker…
“Shit! Miss? Miss?! Hey! Stay awake! Fuck, I need an ETA on that ambu-…”.
Second - No. They have never been hit.
Third - Sadly, everything but that, I have taken straight from things that have happened with them. Minor changes to protect my sanity.
Fourth - I don't know what pisses me off more right now, that they make excuses and put up with it, or that they/no other woman have even shot these men in the balls. They are also getting permission to continue being dicks from every woman that doesn't call him on being a moron.
(Fifth and entirely unrelated, the cops are an AU of Ironhide and Trailbreaker, Heather is Heatseek and this actually fits into that 'verse. The arc was there ages ago, so you can pretend it is simply fic instead of rant.)
...and I yelled at one dear person on the phone during writing this. I feel a little better.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heather thought it was just courtesy for someone she cared about. She always tried to have Lou’s beer stocked in the fridge, she’d stay up if he called and said that he might swing by that night, and she asked where he was if he failed to show, even if he would never tell her.
Of course, they never hung out at Lou’s place. Heather’s was a small apartment, but her furniture was nicer. That, and Lou had his bachelor pad. He needed his space. It didn't help that his parents owned and lived in the other half of the duplex. She had to agree that nothing killed the buzz of a date like having to worry about a man’s parents.
He always used to say that she needed to get out of her pathetic, dead-end job. And Heather had to agree, she had the degree and credentials, but kept getting looked over. He had her best interest at heart, she thought. Maybe it wasn’t phrased in quite the best way, but it was meant to motivate her.
Heather had forgiven the fiasco of the time that they went bike riding. He was much more intense, and as she tried to follow down that embankment it had been her fault that she twisted the tire and tumbled. She’d heard the awful pop in her shoulder on that rock, but was more thankful that she had worn that wussy helmet Lou gave her all the grief about. He’d stopped, but he only had an hour to get to work. One more missed shift and his boss was going to kill him. So the petite little blond understood when he rode on and she had to walk her bike to the restaurant at the end of the park. The owner had been so understanding. He put her bike in the back of his pickup and drove her home.
It was only about $50 for the taxi to the ER. Heather had somehow managed to tear a ligament in her shoulder. She was put in a brace and the surgery was scheduled for a little over a week later. Lou thought it was hilarious. He delighted in waking her with little prods to the brace that left her dizzy and nauseated. That was beyond annoying, but then again, she did get injured in the most pathetic fashion. The man claimed the right to make fun of her.
When Heather got out of the hospital and called his place to see how he was, Lou said he’d been out with the boys a lot. He groused that he missed the sex during those weeks while she was recovering. They took him to a strip joint in sympathy for the nookie shop being closed. She sighed and asked him to come over and see her. Lou said he would try.
Heather didn’t remember the first time she pissed him off enough that he couldn’t help himself. The strike itself was a blur, she just remembered something about Lou suddenly hovering over her. He said that he couldn’t believe he’d done that. He said it would never happen again and brought her a cool washcloth to wipe the trickle of blood from her lip. He said that she had to stop harping about that vacation, he didn’t have the time and a trip with her was not one of his priorities. She’d nodded and curled up on the couch with an icepack on her jaw once he’d gone back to his place. Heather had sighed, she should not have been using all those ‘chick tactics’ that Lou hated.
Some… how, down the line he’d accidentally hit her again. It pretty much went the same way and she forgave him.
One day a coworker asked Heather where she had been tanning. She used to have pale porcelain skin, but lately she had been sporting a much darker complexion. The blond had stammered something about the tanning salon near her apartment. She didn’t need to explain that she had shifted to a much darker makeup foundation. When she pushed Lou too far and he accidentally left a mark on her skin, she needed to cover it up. The questions were just too embarrassing.
The older couple downstairs was starting to pester Heather when they met her in the lobby or the elevator. They asked if she was alright with unnerving consistency. The blond simply smiled and said she was fine, but she could see something in their eyes that said they didn’t believe her no matter how much she gushed. She kept making mental notes to try and keep the volume down if she and Lou were discussing something.
~~~~~~
She blinked up, from… her carpet was cream, not burgundy… and who broke into her apartment? There was a woman on the other side of the couch, yelling at her floor. Why-? Of course her floor was going to stay down. That was where it lived. The woman had black hair, tied back, and was pointing her arms at something Heather couldn’t see… then there was a ratcheting sound of metal. Oh, there was someone else. A man, big, and wearing the same clothes as the woman. Same clothes, uniforms. They were cops? Why… were cops… and he was hauling Lou to his feet? The woman snorted and walked over to Heather. She was really tall, no, Heather was laying on the floor. How?
The officer’s expression softened and she said something. Heather drifted bleary eyes up and tried to form a question. The other woman chewed on her cheek and barked into the radio at her shoulder. Then the officer’s voice started to come into focus.
“Easy, easy, an ambulance is on the way. You probably have a concussion.”
Heather reached up to brush the sweat from her brow, her hand came away red, which clashed with the purple on her wrist and she wiped it distractedly on the carpet. “Wwhere’s you t-takin’ Lou?” She twisted and rolled to sneak a look under the table at the man who had carted out her hollering boyfriend. All she could see was the broken doorframe.
“He won’t hurt you anymore.”
“Wha-?” The floor was comfy, even with these random aches and some weird woman talking nonsense. She mumbled and let her eyes close.
“No! No, you have to stay awake.” The woman patted Heather’s cheek and she whimpered in reply. Pale blue eyes fluttered open a moment, she could see the police officer, but things seemed dim, narrow, and getting darker…
“Shit! Miss? Miss?! Hey! Stay awake! Fuck, I need an ETA on that ambu-…”.
