• multiple strong female characters with depth and personality, they all act like asshole dudebros just as much as the male characters
• one of the main characters is a likeable and three dimenisontal depiction of an intellectually disabled person with agency, was created as comic relief for the other characters to call the r-word
• the main characters have diverse backgrounds (jewish, black, hawaiian, gay, vegan). they would all call each other slurs
• the show is anti-war and depicts the millitary not as cool and macho but as incompetent and pathetic with its cruelty not made out of a greater purpose but for selfish ends. this is explained through 2000s dudebro jokes for halo gamers
This idea made me crazy so i had to write about it,,, went through this thought process:
and didn't surface until i had 3k words of pain 👍
Rumi didn’t even know there was a storage space on the property. When the executor lists it as one of the parts of the estate being left to Rumi, she has to ask him where it’s even located.
It takes a few weeks for them to be able to go to the country house, Rumi unable to consider visiting knowing Celine won’t be there to meet her. They may have had their ups and (many many) downs, but Celine still raised her. That house and the garden and the shrine are still her home.
But they can’t put it off forever. They need to go through everything, catalogue it so that when it’s their turn to train the next generation, they’re ready.
As the car winds down the drive towards the house, Rumi’s heartbeat fills her ears, her world narrowing to the stretch of green out the window. A hand lands on her arm and the rest of the world comes back into focus. Zoey’s twisted around in the passenger seat so she can see Rumi. She’s concerned, the maknae’s bright, animated expressions nowhere to be found.
“Are you okay? We can still turn around.”
Rumi grabs Zoey’s hand, twining their fingers together and bringing it to her lips so she can brush a light kiss against it. “I’m good, I promise.”
“Say the word,” Mira chimes in from the driver’s seat. “And we’ll head out. Zoey and I can come back and sort things if you can’t.”
Mira never fully warmed up to Celine again after everything came out. But she still respected that Rumi wanted to fix things, providing quiet support whenever Rumi needed it.
“I’ll tell you both if I’m struggling,” Rumi vows. She doesn’t hide things from them anymore – she’s had enough of that to last 2 lifetimes.
Her girls know that, so they take her at her word. Zoey turns around, but she keeps her hand outstretched behind her, not wanting to let go of Rumi.
Stepping out of the car, Rumi’s hit with the scent of hibiscus and carnation on the slight breeze. For a second, her ears perk up, expecting to hear Celine calling out that dinner is almost ready. The expectation shatters a moment later. Rumi wobbles, knees suddenly weak, but Mira and Zoey are there to catch her – they always are.
“We can take it slow,” Zoey soothes.
“Remember that time we came over and Celine greeted us by chucking knives at us?” Mira says, quirking an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Zoey scream like that.”
The memory makes Rumi smile. She knocks her head against Mira’s shoulder, glancing up to find Mira looking down at her, that barely there smile curling the corners of her mouth. Mira leans over, pressing a kiss to Rumi’s temple.
“You’ve got this,” she says, lips brushing against Rumi’s skin. She straightens, smiling at Zoey over Rumi’s head. “And we’ve got you.”
More settled, Rumi steps forward. Zoey and Mira follow a half step behind her. She wavers at the door. Her hand shakes as she pushes it open, but Rumi steels herself, gritting her teeth and stepping inside.
Celine is everywhere in the house, reminder after reminder of the woman who raised her. They start going through the rooms together until Zoey and Mira are sure Rumi will be okay. Once she gives them the green light, they split into separate rooms, Mira heading towards the kitchen and Zoey disappearing into the library.
Rumi heads upstairs. Starting down the hall, she hesitates outside Celine’s study, the heavy oak door more imposing now than it ever was when she was younger. This is where Celine spent the most time; if the rest of the house drips with reminders of Celine, this room will be absolutely flooded with them. For a moment, she rests her hand against the wood of the door, at war with herself. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes when she finally turns away, heading towards her childhood room instead.
She manages to get through half of her things before curiosity gets the better of her. Heading down the stairs, she goes to find her girls. Mira is still in the kitchen, two massive piles cluttering the table and one of the counters.
“What’s up?” Mira asks when she notices Rumi lingering at the kitchen entrance. “You ok?”
“Yeah. I was thinking of going to that storage space the lawyer mentioned, but I didn’t want to disappear without letting you know where I was going.” Rumi looks around the space. “You’ve been productive.”
Mira smiles. “Yeah, I’m sorting things into keep and donate,” she says, motioning to the piles. “Celine had a ton of nice cooking stuff. I already have so many plans for what I’m going to make for you guys.”
Rumi’s heart swells and she crosses the kitchen so she can pull Mira into a hug. “I can’t wait,” she says, muffled from the way her face is pressed to Mira’s chest.
Mira holds her, a hand running gently along the back of her head. The motion, like everything today, reminds Rumi of Celine. She sniffles roughly. Mira’s hug gets even more secure, the taller woman humming quietly as she sways them back and forth.
“I miss her,” Rumi whispers.
“I know,” Mira’s voice is rough, like she’s holding back tears. “I miss her too.”
It’s not something Mira’s ever admitted. Not something Rumi expected her to admit. Rumi grabs on tighter. They don’t say anything else; all they do is hold each other until they’re certain they won’t fall apart.
“Alright?” It’s Rumi asking this time.
“Yeah, whatever, I’m fine,” Mira says, blinking away tears that didn’t quite fall. The familiar sarcastic deflection doesn’t fool Rumi, but she accepts the boundary Mira set. They know each other's limits ar this point. Mira will come to her when she's ready.
“Okay. I’m going to go tell Zoey where I’m going.”
Before she can fully step away, Mira cups her cheeks and kisses her. “Love you.”
“Love you too, softy.”
Mira’s offended gasp follows her out of the kitchen, her protests about being very tough, thank you very much, making Rumi smile.
~~~~~~~~~
When she locates Zoey, the maknae is sprawled across her favorite armchair, one of the many hunter journals held above her head as she reads. She’s mouthing along with the words which tells Rumi she must be rereading one of her favorites. When they lived on the compound full-time, Rumi knew that whenever Zoey disappeared she was probably right where she is now, absorbed in the adventures of hunters long gone.
“The library looks…about the same as it always does. Good work, Zo,” Rumi lightly teases.
Zoey jumps, the journal going flying as she scrambles to stand. Zoey’s blushing, the light red of her cheeks making the spattering of freckles stand out. Rumi loves making her blush.
“Rumi! I promise I was focusing. It had just been so long since I’d had a chance to read the journal, and I didn’t think it’d be a problem –”
She steps around Zoey so she can sit in the chair, pulling Zoey into her lap. Arms secure around Zoey’s waist, Rumi rests her chin against her shoulder.
“Which one were you reading?”
“Ga-eun’s.” Zoey answers. “She’s just so cool and so tragic. I was packing, but then I saw it and couldn’t help myself. I was only going to read one chapter!”
Rumi kisses the gentle slope between Zoey’s neck and shoulder. “Read as much as you want, we don’t have to finish everything today.”
Zoey wiggles, getting more comfortable against Rumi. “I can just bring it home with me. I don’t want to be slacking off while you and Mira are doing all the work.”
The weight of Zoey in her lap grounds Rumi, something she didn’t know she needed. She lets out a deep sigh, leaning more heavily against Zoey’s back.
“It feels good to just sit.”
Zoey pulls away just enough to kiss Rumi’s forehead, cuddling back into her as soon as she’s done. They sit in silence for as long as Zoey can stand it.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m okay. I started on my room because,” Rumi takes a shaky breath. “Because going through Celine’s stuff is going to be hard. I actually came down here to tell you I’m going out to the storage space. I think the walk there will be helpful. Get me out of my head a little.”
“Want company?”
“No, I’ve got it. You just keep working super hard in here.”
Rumi smiles at Zoey’s whining. They tease each other back and forth until Rumi’s legs start going numb. Until she can breathe through the memories.
“I’m gonna go. No reason to put it off any longer.”
“We’ll be here if you need us.”
~~~~~~~
Rumi was right. The walk to the storage shed is good. The breeze brings with it flashes of memories, but they don’t linger, letting her remember Celine without feeling like she’s drowning.
The shed is tucked in the back corner of the property, covered in ivy and almost fully concealed by foliage. The door creaks as Rumi pushes it open. It’s mostly what she expected, old hunter artifacts and practice weapons. Everything has a thick layer of dust over it except –
Rumi tilts her head as she notices the small cardboard box tucked close to the door. It’s old, like everything else in the room. Unlike everything else, though, there’s barely any dust on it. There are marks in the dust around it, where it’s been pulled out of place over and over again. Even fainter, she can see the marks where someone sat as they went through the box, where Celine sat. Rumi sinks to the ground, lining herself up perfectly with the final remnants of the woman who raised her. For a moment, she expects to feel Celine with her, as though the action of sitting where she sat would bring her back. She shakes off the disappointment; it’s not like it was a rational hope – she shouldn’t be upset.
Sniffling, she pulls the box close. The cardboard is soft from repeated use. Whatever’s in here, Celine looked at it a lot. It could be her mother’s things, Rumi realizes. She doesn’t know anything else Celine would hold this dear, anything she’d treasure more. Her already fragile heart shies away from having to deal with the old ache of the loss of her mother on top of Celine’s absence. A cardboard box has never been so intimidating.
But Rumi’s faced screaming crowds of thousands of fans. She can do this.
She opens the box. Instead of Mi-yeong’s things, resting at the top is a mother’s day card she made for Celine when she was – Rumi tries to remember – 10, maybe? It’s unfolded, resting so Rumi can see the front and back, covered in brightly covered scribbles, every single word on the card misspelled. Rumi stares down at it, surprise numbing everything else. She reaches for the card, breathing out a laugh when she realizes that Celine laminated it. Of course she did. Only Celine would do something like that.
Blinking back tears, Rumi flips the card over, reading through the messy scribbles telling Celine that even though she’s not really Rumi’s mom, Rumi still loves her.
Placing the card gently on the ground beside her, Rumi pulls the next thing from the box. It’s a report card, the first time Rumi aced all her classes. Rumi’s lip quivers. She tucks her lips between her teeth, biting down and fighting not to crumble. She pulls piece after piece of her childhood out of the worn cardboard, each one taken good care of but still frayed and worn from all the times Celine must have touched them.
A tear splashes against the laminated surface of a birthday card. She’s not sure when she started crying. She barely cried when Celine died, too shellshocked to feel much of anything. But oh does it all hit her now. She burns with the pain of missing Celine, surrounded by the evidence that Celine loved her. Loved her more than Rumi had known.
She wishes Celine were still here. She wants to go through every item one by one with her, have Celine tell her why she kept these things, what made each one important.
She just wants –
She wants her mom.
Her breath comes in ragged gasps. She can barely see through her tears. She wants Celine to hold her, to braid her hair and sing to her like she used to. Rumi doesn’t know how to handle the fact that she’ll never have those moments ever again.
Rumi thought she had mourned her relationship with Celine already. They had made up, sure, but things were never the same. Rumi had processed it, made peace with the fact that they had lost that part of themselves. She knows Celine loved her. Rumi thought she had mapped the extent of that love, reached its edges and known just how far it stretched.
But here she is, back at square one all because of this stupid box Celine never told her about. The box that held all the love Rumi thought she never had, the box that hid the three words that Rumi needed all these years.
“Why?” Rumi keens, looking around like Celine will somehow be there. “Why couldn’t you have just told me?”
There are a few more things left in the box. Rumi almost doesn’t want to go through them, but one of them catches her eye. It’s a white envelope. It stands out in the spread of colorful childhood relics. Plain and unadorned, the only thing written on it is Rumi’s name, penned in Celine’s neat handwriting.
Rumi pulls it from the box. It’s newer than anything else in the box. Rumi’s hands shake as she opens it, doing everything she can to keep it intact.
It’s the messiest letter Rumi has ever seen come from precise, controlled Celine. It’s full of strikethroughs and scribbles. The ink is smeared in places, little wrinkles in the page like it had gotten wet and dried again. Like Celine had cried writing it. Rumi can count the amount of times she’d seen Celine cry on one hand. The image of Celine bent over her desk, shoulders shaking as she wrote this for Rumi, blooms in her mind, so vivid that Rumi can almost smell the old paper scent that always permeated that room and clung to Celine’s clothes. Another ragged, gasping sob wrenches free. Rumi’s chest aches from how hard she’s crying, barely able to get enough air. She carefully sets the letter down. Needs to put it down before she ruins it. Her hands cover her face as she finally loses control. The tide of her tears feels endless, soaking the collar of her shirt as they pour down her face. She’s shaking, knees held tightly to her chest as she rocks back and forth.
She wants her mom. Yearns for Celine’s hand brushing her tears away so badly it steals what little breath she had left.
~~~~~~
She’s exhausted when she finally calms down. Wrung out and bleary eyed, she gingerly reaches for the letter resting innocuously on the concrete in front of her. She hesitates just before touching it, some animal instinct in the back of her mind screaming danger. There will always be a part of her that’s still that scared, rejected child who just wanted to be held just as there will always be the part of her that loved Celine so thoroughly she didn’t care about being hurt. The latter wins out and she grabs the letter so she can finally read it.
Rumi,
I know I didn’t do what was best for you. I did what I thought – I wanted to – You
I was lost, Rumi. I didn’t know how to raise a child. I barely knew how to function without Mi-yeong and Ji-na. I didn’t – How
Your mother loved you so much, Rumi, we all and I wanted you to grow into a woman she’d be proud of. But I didn’t know how to balance that with. I didn’t know how to reconcile your demon side with your human side, so I shoved it away. I made my shame yours.
You know the teachings; I taught you well enough. No flaws. So I ignored my failings in taking care of you and told myself I was doing the right thing.
I am so happy you proved me wrong. Your mother would be so proud of who you've become.
Please don’t live in shame anymore, my wonderful, beautiful girl. Let those two guard dogs of yours take care of you the way I couldn’t. They’re good for you. I am so thankful they proved me wrong too, that they love you the way you deserve to be loved.
I will never be able to make up for the way I raised you. I did my best with what little ability I had. I am so proud of the woman you have become. Despite me holding you back.
There is only one reason that you would be reading this letter. I don’t think I’ll ever have the courage to give it to you. So, in case I didn’t get to tell you this before I left, I love you Rumi. All of you.
I always have, even when I tried to convince myself I didn’t.
You are my heart, Rumi.
Rumi wants to crush the letter to her chest, hold it close as another wave of tears overtakes her. The need to keep it just as Celine had left it has her fumbling to put it back in the envelope.
As she does, she realizes there’s something else tucked inside. It’s a polaroid, and when Rumi sees it, she almost breaks again. The photo, washed out and creased like it had been folded into a wallet, is of the Sunlight Sisters. Mi-yeong is in a hospital bed, Celine and Ji-na on either side. Cradled in Mi-yeong’s arms, her mother’s eyes gazing down at her with an expression of pure love, is Rumi. Along the bottom border, in Celine’s measured handwriting, are the words Our Daughter, followed by Rumi’s birthday. She had been Celine’s from the moment she was born, Celine’s claim right here, impossible to ignore.
“Mom,” Rumi cries, hands reaching for something they’ll never have again.
The honmoon ripples around her like it’s trying to console her. Unbidden, a memory of Celine’s soothing alto surrounds her, so clear it feels real.
We are hunters, voices strong.
And spoken, an echo of a time long gone: All pain passes, Rumi.
The sensation of Celine’s hand against her shoulder. The anguished cry of Celine telling Rumi she loves her. The smack of a kiss against a skinned knee. Celine guiding her hands as she tried to teach 5-year old Rumi how to fry an egg.
Rumi loses herself in the memories, in the mourning.
