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b4ts1e · 1 month

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▀▄▀▄▀▄Ageing Differences▄▀▄▀▄▀(𝚐𝚗!𝙼𝙲)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍: 𝚀𝚒𝚞/𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚗 𝙻𝚒𝚗 𝚃𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔/𝚂𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗 R𝚎𝚗 𝙼𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚢 𝙳𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊/𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚢/𝙾𝚖𝚒 𝙱𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗 𝙾𝚙𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝙲 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 (𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙾𝙻:𝙽&𝙵)

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝:

Thank you so much for being patient requester, I hope you enjoy! ^^

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

It had been a seemingly normal day in Golden Grove for MC, them hanging around with Ren as the two applied for colleges. Sure they were only seventeen- but it's better to start early and have their future secured by graduation. That's when, during a short snack break Ren brought up one of the concerns they've been having recently to MC.

Apparently- Autumn and Sparkles had grown severly distant as of recently, but because of junior highschooler stress they had failed to take proper notice. Sure Ren wasn't the type to care about Tamarack all too much, but their concern for Qiu's new behavior had shown true when they got the chance to talk more properly with MC over their holiday break.

Now this had put a new priority on MC's shoulders, as the older sibling figure they wanted to make sure something didn't happen in their absence- and hopefully repair the relationship between the two that seemed to fray with time.

With a new found urgency, they were quick to dismiss themself- taking their stuff with them and click in their rollerskates. Not the same ones from when they were younger, obviously- but normal shoes were less efficient. Promising to swing by again tomorrow so the two can continue their college applications together, they sped down the sidewalk towards the all too familiar cul-de-sac.

(𝙼𝙲'𝚜 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎)

Making it back to the cul-de-sac felt like a longer journey this time around- the guilt of being so distant from Autumn and Sparkles for long enough to not notice this behavioral shift personally was concerning. I had fallen back into my old habits again, closing myself off and allowing myself to on go autopilot for school, and this seems to have been karma's rude awakening for me. I should've seen the signs, been there to stop whatever caused the rift between the two, and continued being the bridge between the town and the forest.

Skidding to a rough holt- rubber tires screeching with complaint, before my house, I take off the skate attachments of my shoes and my bag. Quickly storing the wheels away in the bag and discreetly hiding the bag in the bushes beyond the fenced in front yard. Taking a few calming breaths I turn towards Qiu's home, going straight to the backyard where I knew they'd be since dance would've been canceled for the holidays.

My shoes crushing the fallen leaves being the only sound indicating my arrival to the slowly rotting fort. Careful to not knock too harshly, I rap my knuckle against the wood in a planned pattern.

knock-knock-pause-tap-knock

The fort wobbled a bit as a familiar head of dark brown hair peaked over the edge, a look of surprise etched on their face- most likely not expecting my presence so suddenly. I give an apologetic smile and a short wave, "Hey- sorry for disappearing for a bit. Wanna talk?" I ask softly. With a begruding sigh Autumn backed up, making room for me to stand on the ladder and peak my head into the fort too small for both of us now we've both grown.

"Why are you here?" they asked, a bite to their tone- Ren wasn't kidding, they truly had changed a lot since being the little star child I had once known. Though despite everything- the way they curled into themself made it clear they were still the kid I knew back then. "Well? Are you just going to stand there?" they ask with a semi-harsh glare. "Right- sorry. I should probably explain where I've been, huh?" I prompt, rubbing the back of my neck anxiously- a habit I had picked up from the younger teen before me.

I was met with a stiff nod before they turned their head away, eyes closed- but I could tell they were still listening. "I don't know if you remember me telling you about how I instinctively deal with stress, but- to make a long story short... I essentially push everyone out and go into an autopilot mode which makes me focus only on the most minimally necessary things. Schoolwork, eating, hydrating, hygiene, ectara. I am genuinely sorry I wasn't here for you or Tamarack when you both needed me." I explain, guilt eating me from the inside out.

These two teens may not have been my blood family, but I was their older sibling and they my younger siblings. I felt obligated to be there should they have needed me- but I wasn't there, and now I had a mess to clean up.

"I remember you telling me about that- I thought you said you broke the habit?" Autumn looked back towards me, concern visible in their eyes- obviously remembering the stories of the major disrepair I fell into after awhile of autopiloting. "I thought I did, but highschool is- it's tough and old habits die hard. Now with holiday exams out of the way- I should be alright now that I've snapped out of it, but that's not why I came here today if I'm honest." I start, they nod- posture adjusting to be more comfortable.

"What- What happened with you and Sparkles? We don't have to talk about it if you don't want too, but I'm concerned. Even Ren is concerned for you both, which says a lot really." I say, pulling my upper body further into the fort- careful to not overstress the rickety building. With a sigh they roll their eyes, body language closing off again. "Nothing happened- we just...we clash. Guess the town's 'star' and the forest's 'keeper' were just too different." they explain shortly.

"You sure that's all?" I prompt gently, getting the feeling I wasn't getting the whole story from them. With a sigh of relucant defeat they scoot closer to me and the entrance of the fort. "She's so lucky MC. She's got supportive grandparents, she knows what she wants for herself, and she's not followed around by the people at school. I- I hate to admit it but I'm jealous of her. My parents are supportive- but busy, I'm confused on who I am- to hell with what I want to do with my future! I just...I want to go back to when things were easier." they ramble a bit, leaning their head against my shoulder.

"I see...did you try talking to her about this?" I ask softly, bringing a hair to card my fingers through their hair- an action I used to do to help them relax and sleep as a child. Shaking their head softly, they visibly relax a bit. "Everytime I tried before- it was like my throat would close up. I guess I was scared of hurting her feelings or something...I don't know." they say dismissively, but it was obvious that this had been burdening them for a long while.

"Okay. Thank you for telling me. Do you want me to help you talk to her soon? I still have to apologize to her for disappearing like I did- but afterwards I can help you both see eye to eye if you'd like." I offer, they hum and nod- curling into me like a cat, making me smile softly. "Okay- but for right now. It's time for you to get inside before you fall asleep out here and get caught in the night rain."

Helping them down I give them a gentle yet firm hug, before letting go and walking them to their door. Quick goodbyes were exchanged before the scent of rain wafted through the air, speaking with Tamarack would have to wait for tomorrow. Besides- her band group is preparing for the holiday show, she wouldn't be home at the moment.

(𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚙)

The next morning, despite my lackluster sleep, I awoke early- quickly entering the kitchen to make something for my later plan to speak to Tamarack before she had to go to band practice. She's always been a sucker for homemade goodies. With a steadily practiced hand I made my specialty brownies, seperating a few specifically to add edible glitter over the top of them- a thing I only did because and for of the forest queen.

With the treats packed away and midday steadily approaching, I get dressed and prepared for anything that may happen during me and Tama's conversation- or even for a lack of one. Quickly I made my way over to the Baumann residency, knocking on the door gently to not wake up anyone who was still asleep.

Luckily enough, Granny was the one to open the door for me- inviting me inside, taking the treats for her and her husband, and directing me that Tamarack was in her room. With quiet steps and calming breathes I go up the stairs carefully, instinctively going past the ones that creaked loudest. Reaching her all too familiar door, I knock delicately- the exact same pattern as I did the other day.

knock-knock-pause-tap-knock

"MC?? Is that you?" she asked through the door before opening it swiftly, the same shock I saw on Qiu's face yesterday was on her face now. "I- Why are you here? Is everything okay? Where were you?" she pulled me into her room, closing the door behind me as she asked her many questions at once.

With a soft sigh and smile I offer out the container of 'fairy' brownies to her. "I'm sorry for being really distant lately, I know words can be really weak so I hope the brownies help you forgive me or at least look past it. I fell into my old habits again- which isn't an excuse! I genuinely am very sorry for not being here for you or Autumn recently. Stress from school got to me and I was forced back into autopilot all over again." I explained with less details this time, knowing if I got too down the rabbit hole I'd lose her rather quickly.

Tamarack gently took the brownies from me, opening up the container and smelling the fresh brownie scent that wafted out. "I forgive you, but- there's another reason you're here isn't there? You still look anxious." she says, pointing towards my hands that were still shaking with nerves slightly. I give her a relieved smile as I put my hands on my hips and tilt my head a bit. "You've always been good at reading me, huh?" I chuckle softly, to which she follows shortly after.

We both take a seat on the edge of her bed. "Have you spoke with Qiu about it yet?" she asks, taking out a brownie to snack on in the mean time. Good thing she closed the door, or otherwise Granny would've scolded her for eaching such things before lunch. I nod, laying back on her bed. "I have. In fact- I wanted to ask you about something regarding them. If that's okay, I mean."

She motions for me to continue, too engaged with the chocolatey treat in her hand to answer properly at the moment. "What happened between you two while I was out of it? It apparentally got bad enough for Ren to notice and be concerned, so he brought it up with me the other day." my approach with Sparkles was less gentle than with Autumn, after all- she's never been one to hesitate with me.

Once she finished the brownie, she tucked the specialty treats away in her nightstand so that they'd be kept hidden from her grandparent's prying eyes. "I guess we both just- got busy? I'm not too sure...I know they've been going through some personal stuff. Last time I tried to be there for them like you were they just- pushed me away, so I gave them the space they wanted. We haven't spoken properly since." she explained as I sat back up on the bed- propped up on my elbows.

"Really? Huh- would you be willing to talk with them soon? I can't say much but...there's some stuff they've been a bit scared to bring up. I'll be there to mediate, and to help if either of you need it- but I don't want anything to keep you guys distanced from each other. Especially if I slip up again, especially once I get to college- neither of you should have to feel alone."

She looks down at her sleeves, messing with the lightly frayed fabric as she strugged. "I dunno- I don't really think they want to talk with me. Besides...our schedules rarely line up." Carefully I give her a gentle smile, sitting up fully and grabbing her hand delicately- massaging her knuckles to keep her from ruining the edges of her sweater any further. "I assure you- they do wanna talk to you. They're just...scared. A lot's going on in their head right now, and I bet the same is for you. Do you wanna talk about it?" I prompt, more gently than before.

She shakes her head and smiles softly- exposing her braces a little. "No. No. I'm alright- just the holiday show causing some stress, other than that there's nothing else going on. And if you're sure they want to talk- I'm willing to try. Just tell me when and I'll make sure I'm wherever we're doing this." she says softly, gripping my hand tighter for a few seconds. I nod and give her a genuine smile, we continued to catch up for a bit before Granny came upstairs saying that they had to leave for practice.

Giving Tamarack a tight hug before she got into her grandmother's car, I wave goodbye as the two drive away from the cul-de-sac. A feeling of pride bubbling through my chest, my guilt washing away if only for a moment. "I can fix this for them. I know I can. I just need to make sure we all have a time together during the break- maybe a sleepover at my house? That'd probably be best- it'd most likely be more comfortable there." I mutter to myself as I walked back to my house.

Upon entering I was quick to go upstairs, pull out a notebook and take notes- jotting down ideas for what could be done and when it should happen. Maybe the night after the holiday show? If I can convince Tama's grandparents then we should be in the clear- unless Autumn has plans for then already...which I doubt at the moment but you never know.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

Unbeknownst to MC- their mother stood right outside their bedroom door, listening in. Reminding herself to give both Lin and Baumann residences later that night- sure it was a bit...underhanded, but maybe she could help her child in their desperate attempts to mend the tattered and worn relationship between the two younger friends.

I mean- she's who they got their determination from. Of course she'd help, after all- it was her main job to be there should her kid ever need her. Her pride and joy who would drown themself in notebook paper tonight before bringing the idea up to her either that evening at dinner or tomorrow during breakfast. Either way- she'd play along as if she hadn't known before, just as she'd always done when MC was but a child.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2,536

#our life now and forever #olnf mc #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #writing #reqs open #coms open #ABatsie-Writes

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whumpcereal · 2 years

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behavior modification

WRU has hired renowned behaviorist Dr. Ivan Peters to refine their training protocol for Romantic acquisitions. When Jack Kenyon--the brilliant young partner of one of Ivan’s med school rivals--applies to be Dr. Peters’ research assistant, he has no idea what he’s signing on for. Maybe reblog or leave a note if you feel so inclined? This is my first real whump offering, and I’m excited!

part one: jack and ivan at dinner

content warnings for creepy whumper, implied future captivity and noncon, dehumanization, and vague references to childhood trauma and specific psychiatric disorders

The restaurant is crowded, but not too loud. It isn’t the sort of place that ever gets out of hand. White linen table cloths, soft lighting, a gentle undercurrent of piano, polished stemware—everything exudes taste and class. Ivan knows it’s impressive; doing business here always gives him immediate caché with his potential interns. They want to be what he is. They want what he has.

Jack Kenyon is no different. At least, in theory. He is young and eager. He is looking to improve his resumé before applying to doctoral programs. He’s heard of Ivan’s work and wants to be a part of it.

But Jack Kenyon doesn’t know that he’s already been handpicked for a very special project.

Jack says all the right things, of course, and as he talks, Ivan lets his eyes move over the boy’s face, his body. Darling Jack takes pride in his appearance, that much is clear. Straight shoulders, lean jaw. Dark hair, thick, but neatly trimmed. Big blue eyes beneath a fringe of black lashes, the kind people always say are wasted on boys. Lips, sweet and pink; one corner lifts higher than the other when he speaks.

Ivan’s fly is tight just imagining what he’ll be able to do with those lips, the way those eyes will look up at him when sweet little Jack is on his knees where he belongs.

Ivan smiles at the thought and takes a careful sip of wine. “So, you’d want to focus on trauma work?”

“I do.” Jack nods eagerly. “I—it’s very important to me.”

He looks at Ivan for approval. It’s cute, Ivan thinks, how badly Jack already wants to please him. That will be useful. But Ivan will not tip his hand. Not yet.

“And why is it so important?”

It is a pointless question. Ivan already knows the answer. He’s done his research. But Ivan enjoys seeing the sudden alarm in Jack’s eyes anyway; it suits him. It is an animal’s unconditioned response.

“Oh, uh—”

“You don’t have to say, Jack. Not if you don’t want to.”

But darling Jack knows better. If he wants this position, he has to answer. And Jack wants this position.

At least, he thinks he does.

“No. It’s fine. I—well, I was in the system when I was a kid.”

“Foster care?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose you saw a lot of things.”

“I did,” Jack says softly. “I was a really angry kid. Oppositional-defiant disorder, intermittent explosive disorder—”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder?”

Jack nods, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Ivan’s seen the boy’s records, of course. Seven foster care placements before he was twelve, then a series of halfway houses and group homes until seventeen. And a stint in juvenile detention at thirteen, for attacking his foster father. The man had gone after Jack, and not for a beating. And Jack, sweet little Jack—he’d fought back.

Ivan hopes Jack still has some fight left in him. It’ll keep things interesting.

“But I got help,” Jack is saying. “There was—one of the group homes, it was actually run by someone who gave a shit—” he winces, and it’s adorable, “I’m sorry—someone who knew what they were doing. They hooked me up—connected me with my first counselor, and it was maybe the first time in my life I didn’t feel like what had happened to me was my fault. I—I’d like to do that for other kids—other people like me.”

Ivan nods. Jack will never do any of that, of course. But that doesn’t mean he won’t have his uses. Ivan will make sure of it.

“That’s a noble goal, Jack. To be of service.”

And he will be. When Ivan is done with him, Jack’s only use will be to serve.

“Thanks. But I’m not doing it to be noble.”

“Of course not,” Ivan agrees. “We’re all in this because we want to help people. Because we want them to find what they’re meant to be.”

Jack’s blue eyes light up. “Exactly. That’s exactly it.”

“You understand that my work isn’t exclusively trauma-based, yes?”

It is a white lie. What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him until Ivan decides that it should.

“Oh, yeah. But behavioral analysis is key to a lot of trauma-related therapy, right?”

Ivan nods. “Of course.”

“Then I’m sure working with you would be an incredible opportunity.”

“No need to flatter me, Jack. You’re doing quite well, you know?”

Jack’s cheeks flush a beautiful shade of red, and he fumbles for his own wineglass. “Well, thanks, Dr. Peters. I—I really wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“Your resumé is very impressive. And you’re just what I’m looking for. You understand that this project is at the request of a corporate investor?”

Jack nods. “I was going to ask—”

“Oh, we can’t discuss specifics,” Ivan says. “Not until final decisions are made. Legal matters, you know. But I need someone to, ah, sell the company on my research. And you, Mr. Kenyon, are a very strong candidate.”

Darling Jack looks quite pleased with himself. Ivan wonders what the boy will look like when he realizes what’s going to happen to him, what he’ll become. Perhaps those blue eyes will fill with tears before they go blank forever.

It will be beautiful.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” says Jack.

“It’s the truth,” Ivan demurs. “Your graduate transcripts are outstanding, and to already have some publications under your belt? That’s quite impressive. I want someone with a sharp mind.”

The sharper the mind, the more fascinating it will be to dismantle. He smiles at Jack.

“I certainly hope I can offer you that,” Jack says with a laugh.

“I’ll take all you’ve got,” Ivan promises. He leans back in his upholstered chair, swirling the dregs of his wine. “Speaking of—this position is rather an intense commitment. I’d have to be sure that the person who takes it has the time necessary to devote to our research.”

“I mean, the semester is over soon. I’d be all yours after that.”

Oh, does Ivan like the sound of that.

“Would you? You don’t have any—personal entanglements that might weigh on your time?”

Jack grimaces, and Ivan feigns concern, even though he knows what Jack is about to say.

“Actually, I—”

“Yes?”

Jack scratches self-consciously at the back of his neck, and Ivan can’t help but imagine what that long, white throat will look like when it’s collared. There is an insistent twitch low in Ivan’s belly, and he spreads his legs just a bit wider beneath the table.

Jack’s cheeks are red again. “I—about that—well, you’re going to think this is crazy—I mean, it’s a small world, right?”

“Is it?”

Ivan knows precisely how small the world is, but he waits patiently for darling Jack to explain. The boy runs a nervous hand through his hair. An unconscious defense mechanism. Gorgeous.

“I’m actually involved with—I live with—I mean, I’ve been seeing Dr. Joseph Prescott?”

Ivan laughs. “Oh, of course. Old Joe.”

It was a minor scandal among their graduating class. Joe Prescott and his handsome infant of a graduate assistant, shacking up together. Jack was at least ten years their junior. But perhaps Joe and Ivan had more in common than Ivan had ever realized. Perhaps they both liked easy prey.

Jack bites the soft pink of his bottom lip. “I, well, I know that you two went to med school together. And that you didn’t really—I mean, you weren’t—uh—”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Jack,” Ivan purrs. “No, Joe and I were not close. But then we can’t all be psychiatrist to the stars, can we?”

“That’s an overstatement. But Joe says that you were brilliant. Are, I mean. You are brilliant.”

“I am.” Ivan drains the last of his cabernet, politely blotting his lips with his linen napkin when he sets the glass back down. He is sure that Joe Prescott has other things to say about him, things that have nothing to do with his brilliance, but he won’t bring them up just now. “And you’re brilliant too, my boy. Your—relationship with Joe has no bearing on our work together. It’s immaterial.”

Or, at least, it will be. When Ivan is done with Jack, if all goes according to plan, the boy won’t even remember that there is a Joe Prescott. And even if he does, old Joe won’t ever see his pretty little boy again. Of course, Ivan’s work with Jack is about scientific knowledge—but watching Joe Prescott suffer will be an added benefit.

“Oh,” Jack says. “Well, that’s—that’s good, right?”

“Terrific,” Ivan replies. He nods to the sommelier, who returns to the table with what remains of their bottle of wine and fills Ivan’s glass again. Ivan leans forward. “You know, I saw that your Dr. Prescott is on the list of keynote speakers at next week’s APA conference.”

Jack beams, holding his glass out to the sommelier as well. “He is, yeah! On trauma-informed practices in combination therapy. He’s practiced for me. It’s going to be great.” He smiles to himself. “Joe’s the best. If I can be half the clinician he is someday—”

“—he is, isn’t he?” Ivan interrupts. “Will you be attending the conference then, Jack?”

And there’s that pretty blush again; Ivan hopes he never loses it.

“No. I mean, someone has to stay at home with the dog, right?”

“The dog?”

Jack laughs, and Ivan is not immune to the sharp line of the boy’s jaw as his head tips back.

“Carl. Our Berner. He’s a bit of a diva—he’d never forgive us if we left him all alone.”

Ivan clicks his tongue. “But you’ll miss Joe’s presentation.”

And Jack will be all alone.

“I told you—he’s practiced for me. I don’t mind. Besides, it’s the end of the semester. Finals to proctor, papers to grade.”

“No rest for the wicked, then?” Ivan says warmly.

“There’ll be other conferences.”

There won’t be. Not for darling Jack. No conferences. No papers. No doctorate. Nothing that requires thought or choice. He’ll be a sweet little lab rat.

Perhaps Ivan should be more concerned about depriving the psychological community of what Jack Kenyon has to offer, but he is not. Jack certainly has other charms that Ivan will enjoy taking for himself.

“If I get the job—” Jack hesitates, and then he smiles nervously at Ivan, “If I get the job, who knows? Maybe we’ll present our research together the next time.”

Ivan only raises his eyebrows. WRU certainly won’t want this research made public, and if Jack knew what he was in for, he wouldn’t either.

“Dr. Peters?”

“Hmm?”

“I—I know the interview isn’t over, but—”

Ivan smiles. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Jack.”

The boy’s face lights up. “You are?”

“Of course. The interview was mostly a formality; I just wanted to put a face to the name.”

“That’s amazing! I can’t tell you how grateful I am for the opportunity.”

“I know you’ll be perfect for me,” says Ivan.

“I’ll do my best not to let you down, sir.”

If Ivan were more committed to the bit, he would tell the boy not to call him ‘sir,’ but he does not; after all, it’s one less thing that sweet little Jack will have to learn.

“Is all the information on your resume correct, Jack? Phone number, home address, that sort of thing? It’s important that my office can get ahold of you next week while I’m at the conference.”

Jack nods. “Oh, yeah. Everything’s current.”

“Perfect.”

It is, too. With Ivan out of town, no one will be able to tie him to Jack’s inevitable disappearance. And with old Joe at the conference, no one will know that Jack’s gone. Not until it’s too late.

Ivan raises his glass. “Someone from my office will be in contact next week with all the necessary paperwork. Shall we toast to our new arrangement, Mr. Kenyon?”

Jack’s smile is infectious. “I think we shall.” He clinks his wineglass gently against Ivan’s. “Thank you so much, Dr. Peters. I can’t wait to get started.”

Oh, sweet little Jack. “Neither can I.”

next >

#whump #whump writing #behavior modification #creepy/intimate whumper #captivity whump #psychological whump #box boy whump #sort of #jack kenyon oc #ivan peters oc #maybe let me know what you think!

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starseungs · 2 years

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07 : should i be impressed?

— SCORE A GOAL (y. jeongin smau) prev | masterlist | next

warning/s: swearing word count: 3.1k

If you asked someone about what they think you’re like, nine out of ten chances the word “studious” would be strung along those lines. And it’s not like you disagreed, of course. When it came to academics, you really were what was considered a studious student. All the achievements you’ve got lined up from your years of school experience could pretty much speak for themselves. So seeing that, you could say that the public perception of you wasn’t entirely wrong.

But it wasn’t entirely right either.

You see, when it comes to the other meaning of being someone “studious”, you saw yourself standing on the completely opposite side of the spectrum. According to our trusty friend, Google, a studious person is also used to describe someone who shows great care and attention to things. And if you haven’t already considered the chance of faking an amnesia and forget about your constant struggle to apply exactly that to your financial choices, then you could see where this is heading to from a mile away.

Tutoring wasn’t something you’d ever thought of yourself doing. Despite being known as someone who dominated school rankings in multiple subjects, you were also known for being a fairly guarded person. Not to a point where you didn’t have friends, yet enough to not have any close ones. Needless to say, “social” was not one of the words someone would use to describe you unlike the one previously mentioned. The only people being remotely near that level were your Carat classmates (namely Minho, Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix), who admittedly, you only started talking to because you were in severe lack of people to share SEVENTEEN content to.

So, close may not be the word, but they’re definitely the ones you thought of as being inside your bubble. Not like there's a lot anyways. Unlike them who are also in a different group with friends they’d say they were so much more closer to than you. One of them being Yang Jeongin.

Ah yes, how could you almost forget. The great incident that led you to this moment: exhausted and in severe lack of sleep. Just like how you never expected to end up tutoring, you never thought it’d be him. It’s not like you hated the guy, he never did anything to you after all. But that was also the issue.

He never did anything that included you.

In other words: you both were simply confined to the relationship of being “just classmates.” Not strangers, far from it actually. There were these two projects you were in the same group for a few years back, but that was about it. You couldn’t say much about Jeongin, the same way he couldn’t for you. So maybe that’s why these progression of events tasted unfamiliar in your mouth.

In your mind, you always considered this kind of tutoring to be something done with friends. Well, unless it's for a program, which you aren’t in and never will be. No offense to those people, though. You had a lot of respect for services that involve dealing with their clients one on one. On that note, nowhere were you also near being a professional tutor; but just like one, you’re doing this with financial compensation.

You let out a tired yawn as you desperately try to blink away the drowsiness from your eyes. There was certainly a choice that was made in wanting to make a quiz to measure exactly where Jeongin was in terms of history lessons. And there was even more of an option taken in deciding to make it a proper one and stay up late to do so.

You didn’t even have to make it; really, all you had to do was revisit the lessons with him and explain things he had trouble with along the way. But you were feeling nice and thought if he was willing to make an effort on this, then you might as well.

It’s totally not because you felt bad you were planning the bare minimum while he’s out here clinging on to you like you're his one and only beacon of hope. He’s even going so far as agreeing to pay you per hour. So like a decent person, you want to repay him too by taking it as seriously. Removing the service payment would be too much though. That was your main reason for agreeing anyways.

Tick, tock.

Gosh, this class is so damn long. You couldn’t help but glare at the clock displaying the time. There are only a couple more minutes left till the bell rings, and you're finally out of here. Last classes of the day are always the ones taking ages to finish. Can this be explained psychologically? Cause you were very willing to know.

Playfully picking at the stuff spread across your desk, you thought back to what you’ll be doing after this. Trailing your eyes to your right, you see Jeongin a couple of desks away. His eyes were busy being trained on his lap, just below his desk.

Hold on a minute, is that his phone?

You rolled your eyes in amusement. Even though you admitted to not being able to say much about Jeongin, he definitely looks like someone who has a rebellious streak. But having already learned that he was much more serious than he lets on, you view this part of him as a lot more endearing now. That little scamming stunt he pulled on you was not appreciated at all though. Well, granted that you were the one who suggested the rates, he could’ve just been going along with it. As said before, you both aren’t the slightest bit close; so he was just probably being polite and not pointing it out. Or at least that's what you would want to believe anyways. It isn’t nice to assume the worst out of people you didn’t know very well. But basing off the interactions you’ve had so far, he could be a little shit.

In a way, you could actually point out similarities between yourself and Jeongin. If you had to describe it in words, it would be like being two sides of the same coin. Outwardly different, yet still the same. That opinion could easily change though, you believed human perception to be a fragile thing. Even so, you wonder if maybe you both could end up as friends. Your “friend group” is already part of his anyway. Maybe—

The screeching sound of the bell ringing suddenly cuts you off from your short Jeongin analysis. Automatically, you start to panic a bit at your situation.

Shit, you weren't staring at him, right?

Awkwardly scanning your surroundings discreetly, you let out a sigh of relief. It doesn’t look like anyone noticed. Not that you were actually staring anyways. It was just a look.

After stretching your limbs that were aching from sitting down for a long time, you start to pack your things. It was a fast chore, seeing as it only took you barely two minutes to finish. Looking back towards Jeongin (because you needed to approach him of course, not just to look), you saw him engaging in a small chat with your fellow classmate, Changbin.

Debating on heading over and interrupting their conversation or waiting until the latter leaves, you still for a moment. Yet apparently, Changbin sees this because he called over to you almost immediately.

“Hey Y/N!” He cheerfully greets you while you’re approaching.

“Hi,” you smiled back politely. Wow, isn’t this awkward. Choosing to get this over with, you turned to face Jeongin, “You ready?”

For a second he seems confused, and you fight back the urge to scowl at him. He can't have forgotten again surely? You can’t always be the one reminding him to attend the sessions. Luckily for you, an imaginary light bulb lit up above his head in remembrance.

“Oh right,” he sheepishly chuckles, lightly scratching at the back of his head, “Almost forgot again.”

Unfortunately, the twitch in your eye could not be stopped. His smile drops instantly. Okay no, that isn't fair. You feel guilty now.

Changbin cackled at the short exchange. At least one of you is enjoying this situation. Patting your back, he heads off with a “good luck!” Oh you could definitely see how you would need that. After another awkward pause, you and Jeongin finally think to exit the classroom.

“It’s gonna be max one hour right?” He almost pleads. One of these days you’re gonna ask him if he’s just naturally a cheapskate or is he also saving for something. You know you are. And that's why you respond:

“That depends. Maybe if you get a lot better then we’ll be having shorter sessions,” you shrugged, “For now, I think we have a lot to cover.”

“What—you just want me to pay you more!” Jeongin whines in protest, and that almost makes you feel sorry. Keyword: almost.

You don’t reply to him as there was nothing to refute. He wasn’t wrong after all. Though there seems to be a lot to cover with him truthfully; overall, he wasn’t wrong about your motives. The lack of response elicits a scandalized gasp being exaggerated from him.

“So you really are just planning to make me pay more!” He states like it’s top quality gossip. You could only shrug.

“Look, we just have two sessions a week planned. Might as well make the most of it,” was your honest answer. Jeongin stares for a quick moment before starting to laugh out loud. You gape at him, baffled at his sudden outburst. He gives you a delighted grin back.

“You’re a lot more entertaining than I thought,” he admits.

Huh.

What were you exactly supposed to feel with that? As if sensing your confused thought process, he clears his throat.

“I mean it in a good way. To be honest, I always thought you were someone whose only hobby was to study. So like, I just thought you were the boring type. Oh, that's mean to say. Sorry, my bad!" You blink unsurely, and that sets him off rambling again, "Well now I know you’re also a fan of that K-Pop group some of my friends are into! You’re also friends with them right?” He chirps.

Yes, chirps. He’s a lot chirpier than you remembered.

“You could say that,” you finally respond. He seems to like that answer because he quite literally beams brighter.

“Let’s hang out sometimes! With them too if you want,” Jeongin suggests.

Contrasting to your little segment about why you didn't have many friends earlier, you actually really like the idea. Maybe it’s time for you to make real friends. You yourself know you can’t stay like this forever. It's your last year in high school, you should be making good memories before it ends. Jeongin notices you perking up at the suggestion and smiles.

Not gonna lie, he kinda has a nice smile.

Aggressively brushing off the intrusive thought, you continue walking. Jeongin is by your side initiating small talk, while you respond to whatever you need to. You would never tell him this, but he’s a lot more comfortable to talk to than you originally expected.

In person, you and him really do look like different sides of a coin. You’re very aware of the drastic difference in the way you act in person compared to how you talk in messages. What can you say, being behind a screen just makes you feel a lot more confident in conversing compared to doing so verbally. You’re pretty sure Jeongin has noticed this by now, just choosing not to say it to your face. Whether you’re thankful for that or not, explaining the whole concept isn’t that appealing to do anyways.

Out of nowhere, you’re suddenly very conscious of the speed you both are traveling at. The library is already in view, and only a couple more steps is the entrance, yet you chose to focus on how long it actually took to get here.

Does it normally take this long to walk to the library for him? It is for you, however if you recall any memories you have of Jeongin walking or running, he always looked fast. He’s an athlete after all, and soccer is literally a game you play while running. So through what you observed, you just naturally assumed he's on the faster side. Wait, faster side?

Was he matching your pace the whole time?

The sudden heat that creeps up your face is barely manageable to ignore. It’s from the embarrassment of walking too slow, you conclude. Being flattered by the action is totally only a small part of it. It’s just Jeongin. A classmate, maybe a friend soon, but as of the moment, just acquaintances. Nothing big to fuss about.

You quickly realize that you’re both standing in front of the library doors now. Instinctively, you try to head first and reach for the door, but it seems like someone beat you to it—and all you see is Jeongin holding the door open, waiting for you to go in.

What the fuck?

You almost malfunction right then and there. Holy shit, Y/N! Get a grip! It’s like the bare minimum for proper manners, also normal as a friendly action too. All those romance books are getting to your head! Do something! Anything!

So you choose to thank him quietly instead. Quite an underwhelming response compared to the mini-breakdown you had just a few seconds ago. You inwardly scowled at yourself for making such a big deal over a simple act of decency. It’s no different than sacrificing sleep to make him a quiz. And that’s exactly what you already did for him.

The bar is so low. You grimace at the thought. Is this really how we live? Because damn, this is sad. Ah, forget that for now. You have a tutoring session to lead.

That's when you find yourself already sitting in front of Yang Jeongin.

This is going too fast for no reason.

"Wait, before we start I have something to give you," he says while rummaging through his bag.

For heaven's sake what is it now? You're sure you already received enough heart stopping moments for the day. That plus your severe lack of sleep is making you feel so unstable. Oh, that must be why.

You let out a startled noise when Jeongin suddenly slaps a folder on the table. You looked at it with question. What you were looking at seemed to be a simple brown cardboard folder. The contents were surely something you didn't expect though.

"Are these your quiz papers?" You gasp in shock. You knew he was serious about raising his grade but this is serious, serious!

"What? Don't be so shocked," he scoffs playfully, "I just tried to compile the quizzes we got back. My midterm score sheet is also there. Thought it'd make this session faster."

Taken so aback by the combination of the action and his following explanation, you could only let out a laugh. Now it's his turn to be shocked.

"I'm sorry—" you wheezed, "And here I thought you did this cause you really wanted to pass!"

Jeongin's face contorts comically to protest. Eyebrows furrowed, framing his eyes that were opened wide as a way of conveying his complaints.

"That too, duh! But I still need to have money by the end of this week okay…" His voice trails off. You look at him amused. Jeongin notices and glares back as a reply. You snort at the action.

Opening the folder, you quickly scanned through its contents. Yeah, the scores are low alright. One 35 over 100, another being 40 over 97, is that a 24 over 83? You hum.

"That bad huh," Jeongin observes you. He crosses his arms while pressing his lips to a thin line.

"Hm. It's not as devastating as I thought, I can tell there was an effort in answering these at least," he quirked an eyebrow at your response.

Taking out the quiz you pulled an all-nighter to finish, you handed it to him. After seeing all the contents, Jeongin looks like the whole world just got destroyed in front of his eyes.

"Don't be so dramatic," you sigh, "It's just to see where you are general knowledge wise. No studying yet. I just want to consider how much and what you actually know."

"Alright," he slumps, feeling defeated. You smile at him for encouragement. That seemed to lift his mood up a little.

While he's busy answering your quiz, you take the time to list down notes about his quiz performances that can help you tutor him better. From what you can see, he seems to know general events quite well. It’s the details that are often lost to him. He’s not a hopeless case. An annoyed huff cuts off your concentration.

What a sight.

This made you chuckle to yourself. His hair is a bit of an adorable mess now from the constant running through it, eyes burning with what you could only hope is determination and not blazing anger over a subject, and his lower lip caught in a bite. As much as you hate to admit it, he's actually really cute like this. It’s the natural pretty boy charm, you guess. Jeongin is undoubtedly on the more handsome side. A platonic compliment, of course.

You continue to watch him with interest as he moves from question to question, shading the choices he thinks are correct. Did you mention the quiz is in multiple choice? Yeah, you couldn't be bothered to make him do essays or fill in the blanks. Especially if you're the one checking it afterwards. That, and torturing him like that on the first day would be plain cruel. 100% would do it, but he's been a lot nicer to you so far.

"I'm done," Jeongin announces enthusiastically while handing you the paper, "I think this is the best I've done in a history quiz!"

Oh no. That always ends up badly. You know how they say that when you think something is really easy, then you're probably doing it wrong? Yeah.

You scan over his answers and end up internally crying over the results. You were right. It did end up badly. He got more than 6 answers correctly though! Your realization of the forced optimism crashes on you like a brick. Coughing unsurely, you pushed the paper back towards him.

"A-am I—should I be impressed?"

Jeongin groans in defeat. He sadly melts on the chair like goo. Poor him. He’s really trying. You just really can’t force yourself to ace something you don’t know. Tapping your finger on the table, you glance at him. If you squint, you could probably see his soul trying to escape his body.

"One hour won't be enough," you sigh.

Looks like you two have a lot to do.

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mychemicalimagines · 2 years

Text

Ray of Sunshine-Dwayne Hoover-Chapter 1

Summary: Seventeen-year-olds Dwayne Hoover and Tyler Walker (or Ty as she’s affectionately known in the Hoover house) have been best friends since they were born. His mom and her mom are best friends too, so they had every chance to be together. They only have each other and are madly in love. However, the other person doesn’t know about their friend’s feelings. Will a chaos filled trip to California for his little sister’s beauty pageant allow these feelings to surface and let the childhood friends become more or will the the inseparable duo keep them bottled inside, not wanting to risk that cherished friendship that’s always been a little more?

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Language, Talk of Underage Sex, Mentions of Attempted Suicide - not by Dwayne or OC, Fat Shaming of a Seven Year Old, Absent Parent, Death of Character - Not Dwayne or OC, ALL Warnings for the movie apply to this series!

Words: 3,669

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A/N: Here is the first chapter! Please comment your thoughts! Comments get us to post and write more!! As talked about in my last post, I tagged people who told me at one point they wanted to be tagged. If you haven’t informed me through comments, messages or a like on a specific post, you were not tagged.

To Be Tagged: Comment Here, Message Me, Submit an Ask, or Tag Yourself in My Bio!!

Third Person POV

‘The best relationships are the ones you didn’t expect to be in and the ones you never saw coming.’ - Anon

When you’re seventeen years old, you usually find your best friend when you start kindergarten or even as your school years go by. It’s different for Dwayne Hoover and Tyler Walker. They’ve been best friends since the day she was born. It was something bound to happen. Dwayne’s mother, Sheryl, and Tyler’s mother, Abby, have been best friends since they were children and when they both got married in their early twenties, they knew they wanted their children to be friends.

The two separate couples moved into houses next door to each other, not wanting to be far away from one another. They both found out they were pregnant two weeks apart and they were ecstatic. Their children were born three days apart with Dwayne being first. Since then, the two children were barely seen away from each other.

With them being so close and close in age, folks always thought they were brother and sister, but they weren’t. They were each other’s only friend, really just needing one another, and having no desire to make any other friends. They’re both really quiet unless they're around family and stay to themselves, only wanting each other there.

They were each other’s safe space, not that they would tell anyone that. Even at such a young age, they rarely fought and when they did it would only be for a few hours before one of them would show up at the other’s house, needing their comfort. When the kids were around five, Sheryl divorced her husband and he moved out, leaving her the house.

He soon moved to another state but does see Dwayne every spring break and summer. A year later, Sheryl ended up meeting a man by the name of Richard Hoover. They decided to get married two years later and Dwayne’s last name was changed to Richard’s. The two teens aren’t huge fans of Richard, but they try to keep the peace for Sheryl’s sake.

It’s mainly because of his “get rich quick” schemes that he’s been talked into; he’s let it go to his head. After another two years, Sheryl was pregnant again, this time with a girl who they named Olive. Both Dwayne and Ty love Olive to death, even with the latter treating her as her younger sister. During that same year, while Sheryl’s family was experiencing happiness and joy at bringing life into the world by gaining a member, Abby’s family was enjoying theirs getting smaller.

Abby’s husband left, wanting a divorce. She happily signed the papers, pleased to get rid of the man. Tyler hasn’t seen him since, not that it bothers her much. When the kids were thirteen, Abby got a new job on a cruise ship. For the last four years, she’s rarely been home, needing the money. Sheryl would happily allow Ty to stay at their house whenever she wanted.

It started with three to four days a week that then quickly turned into five to six. Suddenly, Sheryl decided to have her practically move in. It’s not right for the girl to be home alone more often than not. Since she’s there a great deal, she would sleep in Dwayne’s room since they did not have any extra bedrooms.

No one minded, except Richard that is, when they got older.

‘They’re teenagers, Sheryl. They could be doing anything in that room.’ He had said.

She came back with, ‘They’re just friends, Richard. It is possible for boys and girls to be just friends, you know.’

What the Hoover’s didn’t know was that the teenagers were madly in love. They’ve been in love with one another since they were young, yet they never told each other. They didn’t want to ruin their amazing friendship. Like it was said earlier, they only had each other. They didn’t want to lose their only friend because of some ‘crush’...which wasn’t a crush anymore as time went on.

Six months before their seventeenth birthdays, Dwayne decided to take a vow of silence. He was a huge fan of Friedrich Nietzsche and for years wanted to join the Air Force Academy as a Fighter Jet pilot. He decided to put the two together, putting in his dedication. Now, this vow of silence would end when he was finally accepted.

Tyler is his number one supporter. Always has been, always will be. Since the day he told her about wanting to take the vow, she’s had his back. It took awhile to get used to but she was there every step of the way. For their combined birthday party at the Hoover’s house, Tyler got him a four pack of notepads which he really appreciated.

It’s another way he knew she had his back during this. Due to her always drawing in his notepads or on random sheets of paper, Dwayne got her a brand new drawing pad with a few pencils, which she takes with her everywhere. It’s now the middle of June and they are two months away from starting their senior year of high school.

Dwayne is doing his daily exercise which consists of jumping rope, sit-ups with Tyler holding his legs, pushups and bench presses. Sometimes he’d even have his best friend or sister sit on his back while doing the push ups, giving him that extra weight. Tyler is now laying in his bed, reading her favorite book, The Great Gatsby, waiting for him to be done, knowing it can take awhile.

Hanging on the wall beside his bed toward the door is a bed sheet with a large drawing of Nietzsche that Tyler had drawn him when he first took the vow. To the left of that is a full body mirror. Against the wall next to the door is a large home-made calendar that he has next to his door, titled Flight School.

He has been counting down the days till he’s finally able to enlist. In front of it is his bench press and his weights, which when he’s finished, he places it against the wall. Hanging close against the ceiling is an actual parachute, bunched up as if it was popped open and in the air. It used to belong to Tyler’s grandfather, but he happily gave it to Dwayne years beforehand, not having a need for it.

On the other side of the room, at the end of the bed next to Tyler’s bag and his water jug with his Flight School money, is a desk that he uses when he has homework. It also has some artist supplies that Ty keeps at his house. He likes to use them to paint his models. He also makes sure that his Fighter Jet model sits at the top with his mini money safe.

Sometimes, he’ll even paint some of the drawings that Ty does for him. Against the wall facing the bed is a dresser, filled with Tyler’s clothes she has brought over the years. It was Sheryl’s idea so the teenagers didn’t have to keep walking next door at night. Dwayne didn’t object since he barely had anything in that dresser anyway.

Next to that is his closet, holding most of his shirts, jackets and his few dress shirts. Behind the door is ‘his’ dresser, containing the rest of his shirts, jeans, sleepwear as well as undergarments. His stereo sits on top with his speaker and piles of CDs everywhere. He even has a mini Halloween skeleton hanging from a trophy he won for a plane model he created back in middle school.

There are posters of jets around the room as well as random drawings Tyler’s done for him littering the walls. Mainly next to her spot on the bed where she tapped them up. If one would glance around the room, they would find random items he’s bought and gotten as a child cluttering the desk and floor from where he just left them.

Despite Tyler having her own bedroom in her house, she loves being in Dwayne’s room. Everywhere you look you can see a piece of his childhood. Hell, you can even see her in the room, due to her always being there. He doesn’t mind. He loves walking into his room and seeing her drawings or a sock she left on the floor.

They’re madly in love. Just seeing the other’s items or being around them fills their stomachs with butterflies. Not that they would tell the other. Not even their families know. They’ve kept it to themselves for years and they both plan on keeping that way. As Dwayne finishes jumping rope, he realizes he stopped keeping count as he started thinking of his best friend.

He starts jumping again when Tyler’s voice is heard.

“Eighty-nine.”

He pauses and looks over his shoulder at her to see her grinning with her eyes in her book.

“I was counting with you. You’re almost done.” She says, glancing at him causing him to shake his head with a smile.

He finishes his exercises, making sure to keep his thoughts away from her, and walks over to his large calendar. He writes a number at the bottom before crossing it out. He looks toward his bed to see her laying there not paying attention to him anymore. He smirks to himself slightly before picking up the towel he uses to wipe up his sweat.

He tosses it at her causing her to gasp softly when it lands on her book. Turning her head to the side, she glares up at her tall, lanky, silent best friend. He grins, his eyes playful and teasing, and takes a few steps toward her.

“You are so mean to me.” She mumbles, tossing the cloth back at him with a giggle.

He laughs silently as he shrugs before taking off his gloves he wears when he works out. He tosses them onto the nearby dresser before waving his arms as if he’s shooing her away. She rolls her eyes, grinning and scoots over, knowing he wants to read his own book now. Before he can sit on the bed, the telephone rings.

He pauses for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would pick it up. He’s the last one to pick up, because either one of two things will happen. One option would be that he’d sound like some creepy, stalker, serial killer, just breathing into the phone. Or two, he’d be forced to break his vow of silence, and that’s not something he wants to do.

“I got it!” Olive yells throughout the house before the ringing is stopped.

He nods to himself before plopping down on the bed. When he moves to lay back onto Tyler’s stomach, his little sister runs into the room, the cordless house phone in her hand.

“Dwayne, mom is on the phone for you.” She says, walking over to him.

Tyler closes her book and sits up, knowing she’s going to have to talk for him. She scoots to the edge of the bed to sit beside him.

“He’s on the phone, Sheryl.” She speaks up slightly, making sure the older woman heard her.

She hears the woman speak but can’t understand the words coming through the phone. Dwayne shakes his head, seemingly annoyed.

“He’s saying no.” Tyler says, moving her head near the phone.

After a few seconds, he shakes his head even more aggressively, looking toward his best friend, irritation on his face.

“He’s still saying no.” She says, watching him.

Dwayne then tilts his head back as his mother continues to talk. When she finishes, he looks at Tyler and points to her. She tilts her head slightly before speaking.

“He’s pointing to me.”

Sheryl talks for a few more seconds before he hands the telephone to his best friend. She takes it, still watching him.

“Hey, Sheryl.”

“Tyler! Okay, so my brother Frank is coming to stay with us and he…” She sighs through her nose, probably smoking again. “He tried to kill himself and he cannot be alone. The only room we have is with you and Dwayne. I would understand if you would want to sleep at your house for a while if you’re uncomfortable with Frank sleeping in the room.”

The teen watches Dwayne who shrugs, still irritated, but he understands. Tyler bites her lip, thinking to herself as she watches him. She knows that Dwayne would never let anything happen to her. She trusts him with her life.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to still stay? I don’t…”

Her best friend gives her a look, silently saying ‘you ain’t going anywhere!’

“I don’t want you staying in that house alone, sweetie. That’s why you practically live with us. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.” She says, wanting to assure the young girl.

“If it’s okay with Dwayne, it’s okay with me.” She finally says, reaching over to gently rub Dwayne’s arm, assuring him that she’s not going anywhere.

“Thank you.”

She hands the phone back to Dwayne who puts it to his ear. Thinking for a moment, he closes his eyes and blows air out of his nose, sighing at whatever his mother’s saying, and nodding at Tyler.

“He said yes.” She says, moving her hand up his arm so that she can start rubbing him on the back.

He eventually hangs up the phone, handing it back to his little sister who takes it.

“What are you guys doing in here?” She asks, glancing between them.

“I’m reading my book while your brother is being a nuisance.” Tyler smirks, looking at her best friend.

He playfully glares at her and pushes her causing her to squeal, almost falling off the bed. Dwayne quickly grabs her wrist, catching her before helping her back onto the bed. Olive giggles, knowing how the two best friends are.

“What’s a nuisance?” She tilts her head with a smile.

“It means he’s annoying.” She answers with a grin.

“Oh! He is!” She nods slightly, giggling. “I’m gonna go back to rehearsing!”

She quickly runs out of the room, not speaking another word to her brother or his best friend. Tyler giggles softly and looks as Dwayne grabs his notepad from his side table. He clicks his pen against his thigh before writing quickly on the paper. She waits until he hands her the small notebook.

‘Have to get the cot for Frank.’

She nods in understanding before standing up from the bed. He closes the notepad as he stands, sticking it, as well as the pen, into his back pocket. Already knowing where to go, she walks out of the room and down the hallway to the closet. She pulls out a blanket that matches Dwayne’s, a throw blanket and a pillow.

She turns back down the hallway, walking into her second bedroom. Dwayne looks up as he unclips the cot, allowing it to unfold in the middle of his room. He gestures around him, silently asking ‘where should we put it?’ Tyler bites the inside of her lip, thinking to herself.

“What about the back of the room?” She points toward ‘her’ dresser.

Dwayne thinks to himself for a moment before pushing the cot so the end of it is against his dresser behind the door, away from where she said. He’s still able to get into his closet and he doesn’t want her to keep having to move the cot to get to her clothes. He steps back and Tyler hands him the pillow and throw blanket.

Opening the comforter, she waves it in the air slightly so it will lay flat across the cot. She folds the top to make it neater before grabbing the Cookie Monster pillow from her best friend. She puts it at the end of the cot away from the dresser before turning to Dwayne.

He lays the blanket and pillow she had picked out in the middle.

“Team work makes the dream work, baby!” She brings her hand up, her palm facing him.

He playfully rolls his eyes as butterflies enter his stomach and he high-fives her causing her to giggle. He closes his bedroom door as she walks back toward the bed. Picking her book up from where she tossed it earlier, she turns and crawls back into her self-proclaimed spot. Laying down with her head on Dwayne’s second pillow, she opens her book, continuing to read from where she left off.

He makes sure she’s comfy before picking up his own book, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, and lays down next to her.

It seems like hours before Sheryl and Frank got home but it’s only been about thirty minutes. She opens the front door, keeping it ajar for her brother to follow in behind her. She has his duffle bag and suitcase in her hands. Glancing around the house, she lays her purse on the floor next to a stand before putting her keys in a small tray.

She looks behind her to see Frank looking around the small foyer area. She moves to close the door behind him then walks around him past the living room.

“Hello? Anyone?” She calls out but no one answers her.

She takes a peek into the kitchen before walking toward the hallway.

“Down here. We have you with Dwayne and Tyler.” She says, glancing back at him as she walks.

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it. He’s met the young lady before and knows they’re close so it’s not much of a shock that she’s there. Sheryl knocks on the door before opening it to reveal the teens, reading side by side as they lay in his bed. They both look up toward the door, lowering their books slightly.

“Kids, Uncle Frank is here. Ty, you remember him, right?” She asks as she puts his bags by the cot they set up.

“Yeah. Hi, Frank.” She smiles softly as she sits up.

He nods slightly at her before looking at his sister with an expression that reads ‘Are you kidding?’ Dwayne sits up so he’s sitting at the edge of his bed, watching his uncle.

“He doesn’t mind, Frank. We talked.” Sheryl says, looking at him. “Besides, Ty pretty much lives here so it’s not just you two.”

He glances down the hallway toward the living room, gesturing slightly but his sister shakes her head.

“I know, I know but we can’t have you sleeping alone.” She cups her own face slightly with a sadden expression. “I’m sorry. I have to insist.”

Dwayne stands up from the bed, putting his hand out for his best friend. She takes his hand, using his help to stand up. Keeping a hold of her hand, he leads her out of the room, past his uncle. Tyler smiles slightly, allowing him to usher her to the dining room table. Knowing they just want to read their books, Sheryl walks into the bedroom, making sure the cot was put together.

“You’ll get along fine. They’re really quiet.” She shakes her head at her small joke. “Here’s your cot.”

She smiles, knowing that Tyler fixed it up. She looks at her brother, who is still standing at the doorway.

“Please, Frank.” She says, but he never moves. “Please?”

He sighs and walks into the room, looking down at the cot.

“Thank you.” She says, walking toward the door as he sits down with a nod. “I’m gonna start dinner. Come out when you’re settled. And…Leave the door open. That’s important.”

He looks up at her slightly with an unknown expression considering the door had been closed a few minutes prior. She gives him a strained smile before walking over and kissing his forehead. Leaving him in the room, Sheryl walks down the hallway, noticing the two teens sitting at the table side by side, reading their own books.

“Dwayne, honey, there’s a bucket of chicken in the car. Can you get it?” She asks, walking around the table. “And Ty, can you get me another chair for Frank while I make a salad?”

Finishing the last line of her sentence, Tyler closes her book and stands up, pushing it toward her friend before walking to another part of the house. Spending practically every day in the house for four years, she knows where everything is. She hears Sheryl and Richard talking when she waddles back into the room with the requested chair.

The answering machine beep is heard and a woman starts talking but the only one paying attention is Richard. He stops listening when it’s not Stan Grossman, his new partner in a get rich quick scheme.

“Dwayne.” Sheryl sighs, walking past the table toward the bedrooms. “Come on. Please, the chicken. It’s in the car. Can you also set the table? We’ll do paper plates tonight.”

He stands up from his chair as he finishes the last few words of his paragraph before closing the book. He grabs Tyler’s and puts both books on the shelf behind the table, knowing they’re not going to get anymore reading done. Slightly pulling up his pants, he walks toward the front door, finally listening to his mother.

Tyler scoots down the chairs she and her best friend were using down the table a smidge before putting the chair she grabbed next to Dwayne’s.

“It’s your sister!” Richard calls out before sighing to himself. “Fuck.”

The younger teen raises an eyebrow and looks at him.

He wipes his face, realizing the girl was still in the room. He holds his hand up slightly in a small wave. He hates strong language in the house and is always commenting when someone curses around him so him just cussing in front of the almost adult is slightly embarrassing.

“Sorry, Ty.” He gives her a strained smile before grabbing the telephone and dials a number. “Richard Hoover for Stan Grossman.”

#dwayne hoover #dwayne hoover little miss sunshine #dwayne hoover fanfiction #dwayne hoover imagine #dwayne hoover x reader #dwayne hoover x you #dwayne hoover x original female character #dwayne hoover x original character #dwayne hoover love story #little miss sunshine #little miss sunshine dwayne

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lillygene · 1 year

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Me When I Realize I Never Posted My Writing Examples - Rat

Wow... shame on me huh? As compensation here are two stories I typed up recently! They are in relation to my own Call Of Duty oc, as well as Calmly.mangled on Tiktok's character.

Evelyn belongs to me, while Teddy/Cameron is Mangled's character!

Content Warning: Violence, alcohol, me pretending I know anything about the military in the slightest!

It had only taken five minutes for the first guy to hit the ground with an ugly smack. His nose was twisted up awkwardly, and his eyes had rolled back into his head long before his body stopped falling.

Before that, Cameron had actually been enjoying himself. He was freshly nineteen, and a good year and a half into his days in the service. He had signed up for the marines the moment he could, he was hardly a day into his seventeenth year around the sun when he made the conscious decision to apply himself.

The marines had been the obvious choice, for a few reasons. The one that sat heavy on the forefront of his mind was his father’s legacy. Left behind for him to shoulder. Cameron’s father had been in the army. He was damn good at it, too. There was nobody who could deny that. His father was good at his job.

Now, what that actually meant for the boy was a different story. He’d spent seventeen years with a man who didn’t understand the expression to leave your work at the door. His home life had been work just as well. At least he had treated it as such.

Army, they had a certain way of doing things. A particular way, it was their own. Cameron had a legacy to uphold, but it was also like second nature. He was raised on those ways, he didn’t really know anything besides the army.

It had been a perfect choice in hindsight. He was going to make it into the military, one way or another, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t choose something for himself. Marines and army. They never got along. Then again, you could have said that for basically any branch of any force. Secret service versus the bureaucrats. Bureaucrats versus the military. Ok, it was really everyone versus the bureaucracy, then anyone versus each other.

But the Marines and the Army had a long standing rivalry, one that was highlighted more prominently than the others. Usually it was seen as some inside joke. A way for civilians to nudge their buddy and go ‘Yeah, those Marines, right?’

There was a severity to it however. The army had their way, the marines had their own. It was a whole new playing field to adjust to, but Cameron was actually pretty good at that.

See, the second reason for joining the military had to do with yet another thing the boy had put up with all his life. He was a fish out of water, for reasons uncontrollable by him. Cameron had always been, and still was, a large body amidst the crowd. He stood at 7’3, with the scale leaning well into the 200s.

He could remember a time back in grade school, a time that set the precedent for the rest of his life. People had always commented on how tall he was when he was growing up, but they had always been harmless jokes. ‘Your boy is so big! Tell him to stop growing for me, okay?’ The ladies across the street would coo. Or his father’s coworkers would smack him on the back with a big grin. ‘He’ll make a fine young man, strong too.’

None of the kids in his class said that. It was around the time everyone was gaining consciousness. Which was really bad news for Cameron. He looked different than everyone, he talked differently too. Courtesy of his old man.

Most ignored him, some stared in confusion or concern. However the isolation was the best part, sometimes he was met with a challenge. Someone didn’t like him because he was different. It scared them. People do stupid things when they’re scared. ‘What are you looking at?’ He remembered the first time a kid a year above him had asked him that.

Nine years in the future he was hearing those words again. On a Tuesday night in an un-crowded bar, just ten minutes from base. Except they didn’t come from a scrawny boy with braces. It came from a man who stood level with his neck, glaring up into his eyes.

Technically, Cameron shouldn’t have been there at all. He was only nineteen after all, far from the legal drinking age. He definitely looked the part however, and nobody ever died from a sip. Not really at least. Now he was wondering otherwise.

“What are you looking at, punk?” The man asked again. Apparently from his quiet position on the uncomfortable bar stools, he had let his sight wander onto the agitated figure. It wasn’t anything personal, he had just been in his thoughts for a spell. Just staring without a word, indignation present on his features. He was paying attention now, and what was looking at him wasn’t really pretty. The man had to be older than him by just a few years, but he looked worse off. When he spoke his teeth barred, they were almost rotten. He had a bad haircut, too. Both on his head and his face. It looked like he had done it piss-drunk. Given the way he was talking, maybe he had.

“Nothing really.” Cameron shrugged. Bad move.

“Wrong answer.”

And it had been, just not for Cameron. Two figures behind the grotesque man stood up. Their stools scraped loudly against the wooden flooring. The noise alerted the other people in the room. The bartender, two women in their forties in a corner booth, an elderly man, and two more men. The two men were seated near the door, and only one of them reacted past the initial concerned glance. He stood up, joined the three forms in front of Cameron. They looked like a real gnarly group. The part was definitely played well. Growing beards, deep nicks in their skin. There was some hardened muscle he saw peaking through their relatively worn clothes.

He weighed his options, placed his drink down and swiveled in his seat. “How so?”

There was no teasing tone to his voice, nothing that could have been taken as anything but just a question. The men didn’t see it that way. It was a challenge. The first guy snarled, like a wild hog.

“Cause there’s four of us and one of you.”

Cameron paused for a moment. Technically, the guy was doing everything right. There were four men standing together, and on the outside they looked like a real United force. But that was often a pipe dream. A fantasy thought up to dispel the action before it even happened. Some of the time it worked, most of the time it didn’t. Once the big guy went down, a good portion would get cold feet. In any group, from three to a thousand men. Someone always tried to worm themselves out.

“Are you sure about this?” Cameron asked, he was beginning to stand now. Not to fight, not just yet.

The guy opened his mouth to say something, his fist had begun to raise. But he never got the chance to speak, as his lips parted, Cameron’s hand shot forward. The cigarette punch was something he had seen his dad perform before, even in the comforts of his own home. It gets it’s name from the action. You offer a guy a cigarette, and when he goes to open his mouth you bust him in the jaw.

Except Cameron’s hands were large, and the guy’s mouth was small. He had accomplished his goal of knocking some of his teeth loose (if not, out completely), but he had also hit his nose pretty hard. Which could have been a bad thing. It was an easy way to kill a man. He got a decent look at him from his position on the floor. His hands were starting to cup his face and he was turning white.

“You should help your buddy out. He needs it.”

Two men looked at each other, and then down at the first guy. The second in command, he had guessed, rushed towards him with a fiery expression. It was a futile attempt. He didn’t try punching Cameron, which in itself was smart. But he had attacked him all the same, which wasn’t.

He barreled forward with his arms outstretched, trying to pile drive him into the back wall. His shoulder hit Cameron’s gut harshly, but he only slid a few inches backwards. The taller of the two just stared down at the pathetic attempt. He huffed a little, then promptly locked his arms around the guy’s own waist. He mimicked his movements, but he wasn’t trying to push this guy.

Instead he lifted him up, and slung him over his shoulder. It was a mostly effortless movement, if not for the weak kicks and punches in attempt to free himself. He wanted to be let down? Fine. He launched the guy over his back. He heard the thud against the ground first, then he spun on his heel and kicked the guy square in his chest before he could try and stand again.

He would be surprised if he walked away without a few broken ribs. Two down. The math was working in his favor.

Cameron’s dad’s lessons hadn’t all been awful. He always spoke about getting the first hit in. Usually the advice went better for smaller fighters. They had to get the first hit in. If they didn’t, there was a fifty percent chance they wouldn’t get any in. They’d be dead on the floor before the thought could cross their mind. Cameron never needed that, he was a big guy. He withstood a lot.

But he had a pretty big ego too. So he always liked getting the first hit in, if he had to. Which meant he didn’t wait around for one to get him. He watched the remaining guy’s reactions. One dropped to the floor, the other stared at him like mad.

See, someone always gave in. A smile graced his tight jaw. He took two big steps forward, two steps and he was standing inches from the last fighter. He, too, tried to raise his fist to punch up at Cameron. But their height difference meant he was swinging like a baseball bat. All it took was a calm side step, and the man’s punch made contact with the air. He had put so much energy into the movement that the follow through left him stumbling over himself.

Then he was falling.

Cameron watched the movement, almost like it was in slow motion. He thought yet again, then decided there would be consequences if he let himself wind up another punch. So instead he twisted, and brought his forearm forward. It was a heavy blow to the side of the guy’s temple, and it stalled his falling trajectory. He stumbled again, then the pain set in and he hit the floor like a ton of bricks.

His arm hurt, a lot more than a punch would have. He went out of his way to not give the guy permanent brain damage. He was doing him a favor. Cameron sneered, and rubbed his arm softly. It would probably bruise in the morning. But it wasn’t broken, so he didn’t mind all too much.

There was silence, nobody said a thing. Nobody even moved. His head turned to the guy at the bar. He continued to massage his limb. “You see anything?” Cameron asked, raising a brow.

The bartender didn’t look as shocked as the other patrons did. He just shrugged, tossed a towel over his shoulder. “Nothing.”

“Not a thing.” He said again, this time louder. Not for Cameron’s sake, but for the women trembling in the corner. They got the hint, nodded towards Cameron. He felt a little bad, making them scared. But it was for his own good. He just sent three guys to the hospital, he didn’t need to be paying their bills too.

He didn’t get the chance to ask the question to the fourth guy, he was clutching the first guy and shaking him awake. When he noticed his stare he seemed to shrink even more. “Nothing!” He called from the floor, his hands shaking. He looked like a terrified dog.

“Really, nothing.” Cameron spoke with a grin, directed at the group.

With his final words, he turned to the exit, but not before placing two twenty dollar bills on the counter. It wasn’t a lot, but then again nothing had been broken. Nothing that the bartender should have cared about anyways. He heard a dial tone, and the frantic words being pushed out to the operators on the other line.

He had half a mind to turn around and watch the conversation. Then he heard a string of words that made him smile yet again. ‘It was some crazy accident. I don’t know how it happened.’

He didn’t need to stick around, he was sure the guy had enough sense to keep up with the lie. Cameron made it to the door and opened it with a shove. The cool evening air hit him.

Then, without much thought to it, he turned his gaze in the direction of base and started walking.

I'm realizing how long this post is so I'll make a part two </3!

#call of duty fanfic #call of dooty #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare #not beta read #we die like men #ghost call of duty #soap call of duty #rat writes #cod ocs #cod oc #call of duty oc

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thetomorrowshow · 2 years

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What job would esh!Jimmy want to have if not for his powers? Would he actually want to be a superhero if he had different ones or none?

so jimmy was a really late bloomer when it comes to having powers--most kids get them when puberty starts at around 10-13, but jimmy's didn't really kick in until he was 15. up until then, his pipe dream was to be a pro soccer player! he never really enjoyed school, so he had no plans to attend college and instead was all set to go to a nearby trade school for his junior and senior year of high school, and he was thinking of becoming a mechanic (likely for cars, but he thought the idea of fixing like subway trains would be really cool).

since being powered, he literally wants to work any job. he's only had one job before, and that was at mcdonalds when he was seventeen. his coworkers thought that the ice cream machine breaking daily was just part and parcel of working there--meanwhile, jimmy, sweating, knowing it's his fault--but he got fired after about two months and hasn't worked anywhere since (bc he cried when a customer talked to the manager after he lost their change for the fifth time that week).

these days, jimmy wants nothing to do with the powered life. if his powers disappeared out of nowhere, he would be so happy. he would probably apply for any job that presents itself (though he still really likes subway trains, even if he can't ride them anymore).

#ask #flyingfish1234 #I FORGOT I HAD THINGS IN MY ASKBOX #THAT'S ON ME FR #join me in the feeling sad over what jimmy's life couldve been #gosh he's going to have a lot of self-hate to work through in the future #his powers have ruined literally everything in his life #idk how he's going to come to terms with the fact that they're livable now #even helpful #empires superpowers au #esh au

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feedingtheflockministry · 2 years

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It is Wrong to Profit Off of What is Godly

Back in the 1980’s, as I was growing up in church and Christian school, I started to have ill feelings towards the church bookstore located in the church lobby. I was not sure why at that time in my life, but just felt like it was wrong on some level. The older I got the more aware I became of not only the money that followed into the bookstore, but also through pastors and guest speakers saying they needed money for various projects or ministry support in general. Many of these individuals drove luxury cars, and lived in very nice houses (some of which were behind large gates, walls, and fences).

At the age of seventeen while watching my great grandmother go through the dying process she confessed to giving all her money away to television preachers who promised a blessing in return for it.

In my early thirties I had a co-worker that would send his mother money so she could pay her bills, but the pastor of her church would come to her trailer home and ask for money claiming it was for the ministry. So she would end up giving him the money, and tell her son that she needed more. He found out what was happening, and started paying her bills for her so this pastor would stop coming around.

I have seen many popular evangelists and preachers go from pulpits, arenas, stadiums, and tv shows to promote books and teachings that are based on the holy scriptures, and become very wealthy off of it all throughout my entire life.

In my early forties (when I started to really apply myself to my walk with Jesus like never before) I listened to the entire Bible and then afterwards would pick a book in it that I felt drawn to listen to while I worked. One night as I was listening to the book of Micah a passage, as if amplified in my ears, stood out in such a way that I had to stop for a moment and re-listen to it. That passage answered why I felt ill feelings towards the church bookstore and everything thereafter.

That passage says this, “With the Spirit of the LORD and with justice and courage to make known to Jacob his rebellious act, even to Israel his sin. Now hear this, heads of the house of Jacob and rulers of the house of Israel, who abhor justice and twist everything that is straight, who build Zion with bloodshed and Jerusalem with violent injustice. Her leaders pronounce judgment for a bribe, her priests instruct for a price and her prophets divine for money. Yet they lean on the LORD saying, “Is not the LORD in our midst? Calamity will not come upon us.” Therefore, on account of you Zion will be plowed as a field, Jerusalem will become a heap of ruins, and the mountain of the temple will become high places of a forest.” Micah 3:8-12

“Her priests instruct for a price and her prophets divine for money. Yet they lean on the LORD saying, “Is not the LORD in our midst? Calamity will not come upon us.” This is exactly what is going on in today’s churches.

Since then I have seen more scripture references pointing to this practice as being ungodly. Some passages we all know of but do not associate them with this practice, and other passages most have no idea of. Below are four other examples found in scripture, but I am sure there are many others as well.

“If anyone advocates a different doctrine and does not agree with sound words, those of our Lord Jesus Christ, and with the doctrine conforming to godliness, he is conceited and understands nothing; but he has a morbid interest in controversial questions and disputes about words, out of which arise envy, strife, abusive language, evil suspicions, and constant friction between men of depraved mind and deprived of the truth, who suppose that godliness is a means of gain. But godliness actually is a means of great gain when accompanied by contentment. For we have brought nothing into the world, so we cannot take anything out of it either. If we have food and covering, with these we shall be content. But those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a snare and many foolish and harmful desires which plunge men into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all sorts of evil, and some by longing for it have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.” 1 Timothy 6:3-10

“…who suppose that godliness is a means of gain.” Many people who write such books and produce teaching videos for the purpose of selling them are using godliness as a means of gain. “But those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a snare and many foolish and harmful desires which plunge men into ruin and destruction.”

Here is some examples of how Jesus felt about mixing money with godliness.

And Jesus entered the temple and drove out all those who were buying and selling in the temple, and overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who were selling doves. And He said to them, “It is written, ‘MY HOUSE SHALL BE CALLED A HOUSE OF PRAYER’; but you are making it a ROBBERS’ DEN.” Matthew 21:12-13

These merchants were profiting off of why people were there in the first place. They were there to pay homage to The Lord God, and focus on Him in prayer. They were also profiting off of selling doves for sacrifice of sins. Therefore Jesus declared these merchants thrives in His house of prayer.

“These twelve Jesus sent out after instructing them, saying, “Do not go on a road to Gentiles, and do not enter a city of Samaritans; but rather go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And as you go, preach, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those with leprosy, cast out demons. Freely you received, freely give. Do not acquire gold, or silver, or copper for your money belts, or a bag for your journey, or even two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for the worker is deserving of his support. And whatever city or village you enter, inquire who is worthy in it, and stay at his house until you leave that city. As you enter the house, give it your greeting. If the house is worthy, see that your blessing of peace comes upon it. But if it is not worthy, take back your blessing of peace. And whoever does not receive you nor listen to your words, as you leave that house or city, shake the dust off your feet. Truly I say to you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment, than for that city.” Matthew 10:5-15

Jesus equipped His disciples with power and authority and sent them out saying, “Freely you received, freely give”. No one should be charging money for what The Lord has freely given them. That includes wisdom, knowledge, and understanding of the scriptures. Another thing He said immediately afterwards was this, “Do not acquire gold, or silver, or copper for your money belts, or a bag for your journey, or even two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for the worker is deserving of his support.” No one should be acquiring money for ministry work.

Therefore, six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. So they made Him a dinner there, and Martha was serving; and Lazarus was one of those reclining at the table with Him. Mary then took a pound of very expensive perfume of pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped His feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of His disciples, the one who intended to betray Him, said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the proceeds given to poor people?” Now he said this, not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief, and as he kept the money box, he used to steal from what was put into it. Therefore Jesus said, “Leave her alone, so that she may keep it for the day of My burial. For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have Me.” John 12:1-8

In this passage we see Judas who was one of the twelve disciples (who was equipped with power and authority in Jesus’ ministry as the other eleven were) trying to find a way to enrich himself financially by trying to shame Mary into selling her perfume meant for Jesus in order to put that money in their money box. It was her sacrifice to The Lord, and The Lord accepted it and forgave her of her many sins. Judas’ desire for money eventually lead to his falling into temptation and betrayal of The Lord. As Paul said, “For the love of money is a root of all sorts of evil, and some by longing for it have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs.”

It wise and beneficial to all followers of Christ to avoid teachers, pastors, prophets, evangelists, healers, apostles, bishops, reverends, priests, rabbis, and anyone else in the faith that charges money for what they have freely received for The Lord. For if they charge money for these things their words are subject to being questionable in intent, and the very whereabouts they received the understanding they teach others.

#bible #jesus christ #christianity #scriptures #jesussaves #biblescripture #bible teaching #holy bible

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dahliashq · 2 years

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♡ 𝒹𝒶𝒽𝓁𝒾𝒶 𝒽𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓈.

⋙ did you see DAHLIA HAYES at that rager last night? i think they major in MUSIC PERFORMANCE, THEORY + COMPOSITION as a JUNIOR. from what i hear they’re CREATIVE + MAGNETIC, but they can be pretty HESITANT too, depending on who you ask. there was a rumor going around last semester that SHE HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH HER SISTER'S DISAPPEARANCE, but it seems way too wild to be true- maybe i’ll get to know UCSB’s resident INTERSTELLAR better & find out.

FULL NAME : dahlia amelie hayes . NICKNAME(S) : dee / lee . GENDER : cis female . PRONOUNS : she / her . AGE : twenty three . DATE OF BIRTH : may ninth . ZODIAC : taurus . ORIENTATION : bisexual / biromantic . HOMETOWN : pennsylvania . CURRENT RESIDENCE : california . FAMILY : mom, amelie hayes. sister, freya amelie hayes . STUDYING : music performance, theory + composition ( junior ) . EXTRACURRICULARS : volleyball, yoga . LIVES : sierra madre village. ( off campus housing ) . @cybulletin

EARLY DAYS －

born in pennsylvania, dahlia’s mom was a real estate agent and her dad was a compulsive liar. in her opinion, the only good things he ever did were give her a sister, and promptly fuck off. dahlia was six when her dad left, following a very stereotypical affair with some woman at work. he’s popped back up a few times throughout her life, but dahlia never wanted to know. they’ve always been better off just the three of them. her mom and her sister were all she ever needed, and they were happy in their little bubble. amelie doted on her daughters, and gave them everything they could ever want. they were spoiled. freya, especially, because dahlia adored her little sister. the two years between them felt like two minutes, and they operated like twins. dahlia was popular at school, and grew up with an idealistic view on life, albeit alongside a mistrust of men.

EARLY TEENS －

dahlia never found it hard to make friends. she has a best friend from back home that has stuck by her since they were eight. her early teens were uneventful. she didn’t develop a true love for music until she was thirteen and someone told her that she had an amazing voice. dahlia likes things she’s already good at, never usually the one with the patience to learn something new. but this was different. suddenly, it’s all she wanted to do. she learned piano first, with guitar following a few years later. as she got older, her mom let her go to new york for auditions, to hand out demos, to busk. it took a while before she got a call back, but when people started to develop an interest in her, everything went wrong.

DOWNFALL －

when she was seventeen, her fifteen year old sister disappeared. they woke up one morning and she wasn’t home, with her last sighting being on some cctv at a diner with a little suitcase. she left willingly, but they have no idea why or who with. it became a massive missing person case in pennsylvania, freya’s face unavoidable for the first few months. time seemed to stop, everything else was dropped to focus on locating her sister. a massive chunk of dahlia’s heart was ripped from her that day, and she’s never been the same since. she drifted from her mother, fell out of love with her hometown, and lost all motivation for anything. it was only when her best friend told her to go west to college and do something for herself that dahlia snapped out of it and applied to study her passion. in reality, she wanted to find herself again. she couldn’t stay in pennsylvania. her mom never forgave her for leaving just a year after freya went missing, but dahlia had already put so much on hold. she never returned the calls of the people who’d shown an interest in her back in new york. maybe california would be different.

COLLEGE －

she’s done a full one eighty, crazy, since moving to cali. she’s got a more tainted view of the world since her sister vanished, and hasn’t fully trusted anyone since, even though a few people have tried to break through her shell (wc’s). there was a boyfriend in freshman year who was her first love, who single-handedly rebuilt her trust of men and she has lingering feelins for (wc). she is in a band with ricky (+ others, wc’s) and she has found a lot of purpose and drive to really make something of herself in the music industry. but really, she’s finally enjoying life again, finding herself, and feeling like an actual semi-functioning human being.

EX BOYFRIEND, FRESHMAN YEAR . BANDMATES . RIDE OR DIE BEST FRIEND . BISEXUAL AWAKENING . FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS . MESSY FRIENDS - DRINK, DRUGS, SEX . CONFIDANTS . SUMMER ROMANCE . ROOMMATES. ONE-SIDED CRUSH . TINDER MATCH / BLIND DATE . ENEMIES WITH SEXUAL TENSION .

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rydenisreal · 2 years

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Okay so I listened to Local God. My first thoughts were that this man is singing way too high for way too long with no prep. He's putting too much on his voice. I couldn't make out anything except for "local god, you'll be remembered for the things you're not".

The backtracks were okay-ish, sounded a lot like the last song. The guitar solo(?) was interesting i guess.

I went and watched a couple of reviews by more experienced vocal analysts and across the board there was the consensus that he was straining his voice.

One part I did make out though was the mention of 2021 probably indicating this was written last year. Wondering why he didn't change that?

Still couldn't understand the lyrics so I went and searched them up.

"In 1998, You bought a b.c. rich. You were a master shredder from the jump. Blew them all away with the ritalin kids. While i was shedding through my sophomore slump. You had so many chances to become a star. But you never really cared about that." Is he talking about Ryan? The you had so many chances to be a star but you never really cared about really implys it is especially since Ryan was the one that left and partly faded into obscurity while Brendon stayed on, got famous but lost the sound of the band.

"You'll live forever as a local god. You'll be remembered for the thing you're not." Okay this has to be about Ryan cause while Ryan is really talented in his own right he's always talked and thought about as the guy who left. As the guy who's not there any more. This could also apply to Jon and Dallon too.

"We signed a record deal at seventeen. Hated by every local band. They say we never paid our dues." Pre split panic. It just is.

"It's 2021 and i'm almost famous. You never really cared about that." Almost famous? Dude your top song was played on radio on repeat for weeks. If I could physically kill it I would. What more are you looking for? (I'm not shaming him for being ambitious, I'm just like, ???? what's the endgame here?) Also why 2021?

"Are you melting face at the bellagio? Woah! Oh! Oh! Or are you teaching little kids how to rock 'n' roll?" Is he wondering where Ryan is?

"Did you get weighed-Down by your heart of gold? 'cos you really only cared about that" I'm certain this is about Ryan. "Creative differences" is just a pr friendly way to say that one person wanted to stick to what the band stood for and another to change completely to make bank. And Ryan was the one that left and stuck to his sound.

"Did you ever get your money back? Did you ever kiss the devil?" What does this mean? When you kiss the devil I'm assuming it's make a deal with the devil. And people often do that for money, fame, success. I'm wondering if Brendon is asking (Ryan directly I'm not sure) if he's caved and given in to to the music industry and changing to gain fame.

Anyway what do you think?

ok you're so so SO correct about Brendons voice being shot, I almost feel bad for him honestly.

second. I just listened to it for the first time and I felt like I got stabbed. like genuinely he needs to leave some room for me to tin hat in he can't just write the lyrics to LITERALLY COME RIGHT OUT AND TELL ME it's about Ryan.

that first line. honestly. you're incredibly correct about it being ryan considering they literally met in high school

I did look up the lyrics, and the ones I found said "it's even better than the thing you're not", which screams to me that Brendon is saying being remembered as a local god is better than being a star, as well as "you'll be remembered as the thing you're not", which also kind of has the energy of saying "you'll be remembered as the best band member, even though you left me and aren't even a band member anymore"

I wonder whether the rest of VLV could outline his plan for going forward, considering modern panic! albums seem to almost have a "one step forward, two steps back" kind of thing (from DOAB being a look back, to HIGH HIGH HOPES, to VLV looking back AGAIN), but "it's 2021 and I'm almost famous" gives me brainworms that I'll probably spend the rest of this century working out

I think just in general Brendon is wondering if he went the right route with his life, it kind of reminds me of the interview when he said that he doesn't think theres any jealousy between them, even if this song is kinda the opposite of no jealousy.

#solving viva las Vengeance #so that i remember to journal this

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itsgothgirlthyme · 2 years

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CHAPTER 1 [part 1]

NEXT: CHAPTER 1 [part 2]

Word Count: 1625

Monday, November 7th 1983

"What brings you to Hawkins?" This is the question that will never stop being asked by the people of Hawkins. Towards seventeen year old Melissa Jones who just moved into Hawkins in the summer of 83'.

She hoped this move wouldn't cause too much attention but apparently, news spread like wildfire through this town. Moving from one small town to another she knew it was inevitable and yet so annoying. It included answering a million questions from every person she met.

Thankfully, the questions eased up within time. Though that did not stop the Hawkins high schoolers from putting the spotlight on her.

—

Monday, November 7th 1983

A loud blaring sound a few feet away hit the sleeping girl's ears. With closed eyes, she reached her hand out from under the covers and pushed down on her alarm clock.

Groggily the girl rolled out of bed with a light thump. The mattress and the floor only had about half an inch of a difference. Not bothered by the impact of the floor Melissa got up and made her way to her small kitchen. Walking down the one-story house she went to her fridge.

A few minutes passed after eating some cereal she went to change. She changed into a pastel yellow long sleeve. She pulled a denim jacket over her shirt. Then put on a pair of denim pants which she had to roll up at the bottom. (denim on denim, tragic) She slipped on her most prized position, her black converses'.

Going into the bathroom she poured on hair product and brushed it out. Her hair was dark brown, layered, and straight. It was also a pain to keep nice but thankfully it only met the back of her neck. The strands of hair hugged the back of the neck and formed whisps. Her square face was framed by her textured bangs. Once done with the mane of hair she slipped on large gold hoop earrings.

Carefully Melissa looked at her face in the mirror. Being met with her own brown eyes which traveled to her pouty lips. She applied lip gloss to them before leaving the room. She frowned at the pink streak on the left side of her cheek which hugged her jawline. The scar was still healing from a year ago when she got into a fight with someone over something stupid. Blinking her eyes to clear her of the memory she left the bathroom.

With ease, the teen swept her backpack over her shoulders. Leaving the quiet house and locking her door. The rising sun hit her eyes as she grabbed her bike and rode off to what she liked to call, "hell."

Melissa wasn't one to make friends too easily once she moved. She found a house on Cherry Lane and worked small jobs until she found something more stable. Summer wasn't much vacation and more Melissa working her ass off to have a stable money situation. Being seventeen and still needing to go to school made things hard to find a stable job but she managed to get one at the town's pub, Hideaway.

She was head over heels for the job as she saw the biggest tips in her life. Even though many adults were worried about the girl working there she always assured them that she was eighteen and enjoyed her job. The latter was the only truth but she didn't mind lying since her birthday was less than a year away.

Once school was around the corner and she finished all her paperwork to attend Hawkins High School she immediately regretted it. The school principal was very warm and welcoming to Melissa but felt a bit too much of a pushover. Almost seeing the girl as a new toy rather than seeing her as a human being. Offering Melissa programs to join and anything that would help the girl's home life. It irked the way they had been suggested but what made her wanna drop her new life here as she was required to go see the school's guidance counselor.

It made sense to have mental health checkups on Melissa until she was eighteen but it really annoyed the girl. She was obliged to come in every other week to talk about anything mental health related.

The school staff may have been welcoming but on the flip side, the students were so curious about her. The new girl had no background information according to the students. She was fine with people not knowing about her past. Until the questions and rumors spread down every corner she turned in the maze of a building.

She was tempted to join a sport to help ease people's curiosities and herself, but she never would have the time because of work. She settled for the title of the quiet girl who no one wanted to fuck with. Some called her crazy because of her "outbursts".

It was in September when a cheerleader clique was bothering a couple of girls in the chemistry class Melissa was in. It escalated to name-calling and guilt-tripping the girls to give the squad answers. It was working until Melissa flicked her pencil at one of the cheerleaders' hair. This resulted in Melissa throwing insults at them and telling them to "fuck off".

When the clique ran out of things to call Melissa they embarrassingly enough moved on to something else. The quiet girls were Nancy Wheeler, who she knew from babysitting her little brother Mike and Barabara Holland. The trio started to work together and Melissa became comfortable with calling them, friends.

The teen decided to continue her unfiltered comments to scare off people and it worked. The quiet kids of the school and she had formed a pact of sorts.

—

Once Melissa parked her bike in a rack she quickly went to find one of her friends. After waiting at her friend's locker the two made their way to another friend who belonged to the trio.

Barbara and Melissa both talked close to the hall's wall while waiting for their friend. The taller girl had red hair but Melissa thought it also looked light brown. Large yellow squared glasses framed her face as she looked down the hall. She was spewing about Nancy and her boyfriend-but-not-boyfriend situation. How it was interfering with their friendship and Melissa nodded and listened.

"Then Nancy says they aren't even dating," Barbara finished with a grimace. "But I am happy for her, y'know as long as she doesn't ditch us," Barb brightened up.

"Oh she won't or else you'll be stuck with and that would be horrible," Melissa said with a smile not too worried about the boy's problems. Barb only rolled her eyes at Mellisa's sarcastic remark.

"Speak of the devil," Melissa said as they spotted the problem maker in the school hall.

"So, did he call?" Barbara asked once the duo caught up to the girl.

Nancy's eyes grew wide at the voice with her mouth agape from the question.

"Keep your voice down," Nancy hushed.

Melissa rolled her eyes at the response as the two started to talk about the phone call and how Steve Harrington did or did not like the girl. It was clear that she did as they ushered her to Nancy's locker. Melissa snorted at the "We just made out a couple of times" statement and Nancy gave her a look. Barb and Nancy continued to argue about the situation and then went silent to hear Melissa's opinion.

"All I'm saying is if he fucks you over I'll kill him," Melissa said with a sweet smile on her face. "I'll go for the hair first too," She added with a satisfied smile.

"Mel," Nancy said with a shake of her head but her lips tugged into a small smile. No matter what it seems, Nancy always seemed to be fond of Melissa's comments. Fond of their friendship.

Then as Nancy opened her locker she pulled out a note which screamed, "let's have a make-out session in the school bathroom," Melissa took this as her cue to leave. She cringed at thinking about the two being together so she decided to run off to education.

"Have fun with your "two-time thing"," Melissa quoted before walking to her first-period class.

Melissa didn't mind the boy-talk, but over the span of three months something always made her upset talking about it. She was surprised to notice how much she cared for Nancy and Barb. Especially Nancy. It could have been because they already got to know each other better when Melissa was babysitting Mike. Of course, Nancy wasn't usually around when Melissa was babysitting but the two had brief conversations.

Mrs.Wheeler had even urged that the two should hang out just so Melissa could have at least one friend in Hawkins. Which hurt the girl at first because she realized how alone she was in the town. She never took up on the offer but whenever Melissa would leave the Wheelers, Nancy would pull her aside. She most of the time would have boy problems to ask Melissa, who unfortunately did have experience with them and the two got closer after that.

Maybe she was just worried that she would lose Nancy.

The rest of the day her classes went smoothly that day and right after school, she rode her bike to work. When she came home at 2:15 am she pulled out a box in her dresser drawers which were hidden under sets of clothes. Opening it she let out a sigh of relief at seeing the gun still set in place as per usual. She closed the box and shut her dresser. Then flopped on her bed and fell asleep.

#stranger things #steve harrington x oc #steven harrington #fanfic #nancy wheeler #barbara holland #oc #wattpad #wattpadd

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whatavery · 6 months

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Wanderlust Chapter 2

Second part of my fanfiction featuring the Lackadaisy houseband, this time introducing everyone's favorite pianist, Mozzie Alonzo.

---

Dark green eyes surveyed the area around the cafe, watching people moving to and fro in their morning commute. Glancing down at his tea, Mozzie stirred some sugar into it, before raising the cup to his lips. It was a dreary sort of day, not because of the weather, which was very bright and sunny, still warm enough for Mozzie to have breakfast outside. No, it was Mozzie’s own mood. Not that he wasn’t happy with what he did these days, but it was the impending end of summer that had Mozzie worried. A new semester meant classes would pick back up, leaving less time for… anything else.

As he finished his breakfast, Mozzie's thoughts wandered back to simpler times; learning to play the piano as a small child with encouragement from his parents. The Alonzos wanted their son to grow up and be enriched, cultured. Learning an instrument, especially one as classy as piano, ought to do that trick. Mozzie hadn’t enjoyed it at first – as with most things in life, it didn’t start to become fun until he’d gotten good at it.

When he entered his teens, he could read notes and play most new songs on the fly. During high school, Mozzie got to perform in concert halls as part of an orchestra – he got to play a solo performance a few times too. Along with other young musicians Mozzie had had the pleasure of showing his stuff on stage.

But that was then.

Now school was ending and Mozzie was off to the world of adulthood and his father’s business. At the very least, he’d enjoyed his summer playing in bars and cafes. He had a week of it left to enjoy, before nepotism would rip that bit of enjoyment away from him. Well, not counting tonight. His father was dragging him along to some gala hosted by… Honestly, Mozzie couldn’t be bothered to remember every associate his father had. At this point, they all sort of flowed together in Mozzie’s head, he couldn’t put faces on all of their names until he saw them again. They were all just some other man owning a different business, and doing business with Mr. Alonzo’s construction company was all they cared about.

It would be yet another stuffy event with surface-level smalltalk, if even that.

Mozzie was already in a bit of hot water with both his parents, who wanted him to take the pursuit of his father’s business seriously. Sipping from his tea, Mozzie’s ears laid back against his head in annoyance, as he thought of the many times he’d already tried to convince his parents that what he was doing now was what he wanted – to play music for a living. It seemed a lot less grim than being in charged of a small army of underpaid and overworked construction workers…

It was rich, Mozzie thought to himself. They insisted that he learn to play the piano, but actually making a career out of it? Apparently that was too far. Mozzie didn’t see the issue; he’d proven himself several times, be it to impress the guests they had over (The very same guests they only invited for the purpose of getting them into a business arrangement) or in concert halls – both solo and as part of an orchestra.

Behind their backs, Mozzie had attempted to look for a higher paying job than playing for bars and lounges. Not that he didn’t love it, but he thought that if he could land something more grand and prestigious, maybe that would finally convince them.

But maybe he was being too optimistic. After all, being headstrong and stubborn seemed to run in the family. At least that’s where he assumed he got it from.

Mozzie had both applied for jobs with theaters and tried to get accepted into actual orchestras. He was classically trained, but what held him back more than anything was his young age. Being just seventeen years old didn’t seem to particularly sit right with anyone who read his resumé or sat through his interviews when it came to big, proper orchestras.

He scoffed at the thought. If they wanted to hire some old decrepit bat over him, perhaps it wasn’t worth his time anyway. No one had complained about his age when he got jobs in the lounges and bars he’d played in so far. Not that those jobs were particularly comparable.

Pulling out a shiny pocket watch, Mozzie checked the time. It was still early, he had at least six more hours to himself. Six hours…

After paying for his breakfast and tea, Mozzie got up and walked back to the car that waited for him – a nice, black Pierce-Arrow 66. As Mozzie got into it, it did draw quite a few curious glances as a cat of just seventeen got into such an expensive car.

“Where to, Mr. Alonzo?” the gray tabby in the driver’s seat asked. Mozzie didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have too many options to do things he actually wanted to do.

“Just take me home, Walt… Please,” he told the driver. Mozzie glanced out the window as the car started moving. All those people in the streets… were they happy? Were they doing things that made them happy? How many of them were just doing what they had to survive or what they’d been told by others they should be doing?

“So, big night tonight, sir…” Walt said from the front seat. Mozzie’s left ear gave an annoyed twitch. The chauffeur's tone was polite, albeit cautiously so. Walt had driven Mozzie to and fro for stuff for almost ten years now. He knew how little he enjoyed being dragged to his parents’ obligations and events, which had only become more frequent now that he had come of age. “Are you bringing young Ms. Callaghan to-”

“No,” Mozzie replied immediately, his tone flat. He irritably adjusted his bow tie. He didn’t mind conversing with Walt, but he didn’t like talking about this stuff in particular. His parents had tried to coax (bordering on force) him to strike up a relationship with Caroline Callaghan, a daughter of some wealthy factory owner. It wasn’t natural. It was like a big charade for Mozzie, no different than two children playing house together, although in this case their parents were creepily keeping an eye on them. “I’ll be going alone tonight.”

Mozzie caught a glimpse of his chauffeur’s face in the reflection of the windshield. He didn’t exactly look like he envied Mozzie. If anything, he looked like he pitied him. “So, how’s the missus, Walt?”

The tabby in front was surprised by Mozzie’s question, but his face did break into a smile – from the backseat, Mozzie could see it tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, she’s doing quite well. We’ll have our little one with us soon.”

“Ah, settled on any names yet?” Being with someone you liked had to be nice. The best Mozzie could do was imagine what that might be like. His mood was already improving just from talking to Walt. He’d always liked the family’s driver, although these days he mostly acted as Mozzie’s personal driver when his father was working.

Smalltalk about Walt’s family might not seem particularly enthralling to most, but to Mozzie it was interesting, like a glimpse into what could’ve been. He couldn’t quite relate to what Walt’s life had to be like. Being a driver seemed like such a simple occupation, but Mozzie couldn’t imagine it was as dull as what he had to deal with tonight. But it was nice to have someone to talk to regularly, someone who didn’t only care about Mozzie’s future. Even his peers had always seemed like miniature adults, even when they were much younger. They were so set in their parents’ ways…

The Alonzo family home was located just outside Pittsburgh where greenery stretched all around. The well-maintained lawn around the big manor had seen its fair share of social gatherings since before Mozzie could walk by himself. He hated their manor. It was big, uninviting and over-designed in Mozzie’s opinion. It had three stories plus a cellar. It wasn’t one of those big, old American manors, it was a recently constructed building – relatively speaking – that his father had purchased shortly before marrying his mother.

The upper floors were mainly for Mozzie. There was his bedroom, overlooking the driveway that he was now being driven into and then there was the study where his grand piano was. His piano was one of the few things he’d picked out for himself. It was big, beautiful and expensive. He’d gotten it years ago, back when he still thought that he’d be allowed to pursue music as a career.

“Alright, thank you, Walt. I’ll see you tonight,” Mozzie said in a very unenthusiastic tone, knowing what tonight would bring. The driver did bid him goodbye as he made his way towards the manor. The front door had several stone steps leading up to it, each one feeling like a great endeavor to Mozzie.

Pushing the door open and stepping inside, Mozzie immediately hurried upstairs. The less time he spent out in the open the better. He didn’t feel like being reprimanded about work by his mother, who’d never worked a day in her life.

Mozzie ascended the stairs, making a conscious effort to not look at the pictures framed on the walls. Most were of his parents and their ancestry, but a few were of him as a young boy, back when he still had some hope and optimism for his adult life.

Entering the study he loved so much, Mozzie locked the door right away. It had a desk for him, shelves of books that held not just volumes he’d inherited from his grandfathers, but also song books he’d practiced with. He knew most of them inside and out by now. He made his way to the piano, his true love. If it came down to saving just one thing in a fire… well, he couldn’t exactly carry a piano, but he’d sure as hell try.

Mozzie let his soft, dainty fingers brush the cool ivory keys, before he sat down. He sighed and decided to just practice a bit. As his quick fingers set to work, Mozzie closed his eyes, playing one of the pieces he’d learned so long ago. He barely even had to think about the keys, his muscle memory allowing him to play most of the song with his eyes closed. The bright piano tunes filled the study, not an unfamiliar sound in the Alonzo household.

Mozzie opened his eyes and watched the hammers rather than the keys as he slowed down, transitioning into an old-world folk tune. It was arguably far more simplistic, but that didn’t matter to him. It was a soothing song to him, one he’d always come to associate with late summer and early autumn. He played it at double tempo as well.

“Mozzie?” Mozzie felt his heart sink as he stopped playing. Of course, he knew it wouldn’t be long…

“Yes, mother?” he asked as he heard her trying to open the door. He resumed playing a little lullaby tune with the high keys, using just one hand.

“If you’re taking Caroline tonight, may I suggest something?” It was more of a statement and less of an actual question and Mozzie already knew it. He didn’t answer and just looked down at his fingers as he played. His tail gave an annoyed swish behind him. “You should-”

“Well, I’m not taking her, mother.” His tone was a bit harsher than he meant for it to be. The silence that followed was foreboding and he knew he was in for it now. “I’d rather just be there by myself for once. I don’t need-”

“Mozzie! You said you’d be taking her! Did you even ask her to come with you or was that a lie?” His mother’s shrill, angry voice made his ears twitch and his face burn under his fur. He tried to just focus on playing, repeating the notes in his head like he had when he was younger. He heard the door rattling again. “Open this door right now, young man!”

“Well, I changed my mind,” Mozzie lied through his teeth. E… C… B-minor… “I don’t like her – at all.”

“It’s not about that! You can’t keep doing this, Mozzie! Haven’t we always done right by you? Why can’t you do the same?” At this, Mozzie slammed his hand down on the keys and stood up. He considered opening the door and giving his mother a piece of his mind… but he also knew that it wouldn’t do anything.

“Encouraging me to get some girl to hang onto my arm like a leech is doing right by me?” he shouted angrily. He could feel his blood starting to boil by now. “What’s even the point if I don’t like her? It’s not like I’m going to marry her just because you and father-”

“Of course not – marrying her would be good for you, why would you do that?” his mother chimed sarcastically through the door. She tried the door again. “Mozzie Alonzo, I’m having Walt take you into town and you’re calling Caroline... and you’re taking her to the gala tonight! It’s not about what you want to do, it’s about what you need to do!”

“What the hell would you know about that? All you ever wanted was to marry some rich man and spend the rest of your life being taken care of and you got that!” Mozzie knew he’d gone too far now and the flurry of harsh words that came his way weren’t a surprise. That didn’t mean they didn’t hurt, hearing his mother swearing at him…

Mozzie did his best to shut her out, trying to retreat into himself, but each word echoed through his mind. She knew where it hurt. When Mozzie sat down at the piano again and began to play loudly, it only seemed to anger her more.

“Mozzie, stop playing and open the door! You can’t just run from your responsibilities and waste away at the piano for the rest of your life!” she nearly screamed at him. At this, Mozzie immediately stopped and stood up.

He moved to the door, unlocked it and flung it open, glaring at his mother as he nearly roared at her, “And what if it’s what I want? Have you and father ever even tried to consider what anyone besides yourselve-”

The slap came swiftly and although it wasn’t particularly hard, it still stung in ways that weren’t just physical. He stared at her, their dark green eyes locked as she glared at him. She had tears in hers. Mozzie had taken after his mother quite a bit, from his eyes to his facial features. But in this moment, he had never felt more disconnected from her in his life.

“You’re going into town and you’re calling Caroline before tonight, if you want to be a part of this family and that is final.” His mother was speaking with a forced calm tone, her voice shaky. And without another word, she turned and left.

Frozen in the door frame, Mozzie stood there in silence for a few seconds, before he retreated and slammed the door to his study shut, the sound echoing throughout the manor. Making his way back to the piano, Mozzie slumped forward, his arms hitting the keys with a dissonant clunk as he rested his face on his arms. He soundlessly wept into his sleeves as the horrid chord played out, till he was left in complete silence.

***

“Walt… turn right here, please.” Mozzie had a steely look on his face as the car left the bank. The chauffeur’s ears perked up curiously, but he didn’t immediately ask why. Mozzie had dressed casually, a pair of gray pants, a brown jacket over his dress shirt. Not at all like he was going to a fine gala.

“The Callaghan residence is-”

“I know. We’re not going there.” Mozzie’s eyes were slightly red, but he wasn’t going to look back again. In the backseat of the car, he had a suitcase with him and a satchel. He’d had it smuggled into the car before he’d left home. He’d insisted on being driven by Walter to arrive a bit later. His father was none the wiser to what had gone down earlier, but he knew his mother foolishly thought it was to pick up his date for the evening.

“The gala is starting soon, you’ll be late if this’ll be a long detour, Mr. Alonzo,” Walt reminded him, but Mozzie didn’t respond. The driver seemed to realize that Mozzie didn’t care about showing up at time or really at all. In a softer tone, he asked, “Well, where will you have me take you?”

Mozzie adjusted his collar slightly as the harsh words he’d exchanged with his mother rang through his head again – a reminder of where he was going and why. “Take me to the station.”

A stunned silence followed, but Walt didn’t appear to be opposed. At the very least he didn’t protest or ask any questions, which was more than Mozzie could ask for. Mozzie’s grip on the satchel tightened. He’d brought all money he had saved up at home. He had more money in the bank, as he hadn’t managed to withdraw everything, but that didn’t matter to him now. He’d saved up enough to last… well, he didn’t know exactly how long, but it would have to do for now.

Eventually, Walt stopped outside Union Station and turned in his seat to look at Mozzie. “Mr. Alonzo, you’re… not going to do anything rash, are you…?”

Not responding, Mozzie simply gripped the handle of his suitcase, before he looked up, meeting the gray tabby’s yellow eyes. “I’ve actually given this a decent amount of thought. It seems rash, but this is for the best. Just tell my parents I got out of the car and walked away.” Mozzie let go of his suitcase, before he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small bundle of bills. “Here – as thanks for everything you’ve done for me, Walt.”

The driver looked quite stunned by the younger cat’s words, but he shook his head. “No, you keep ‘em, Mr. Alonzo. You’ll need it if you’re going off on your own…” Walt hesitated some, looking concerned. “Are you certain this will make you happy? It would probably leave your parents rather distressed…”

Mozzie looked out the window at the station, then gave a nod. “Yes. I’m positive. And they had it coming. But if you won’t accept my money, please do me a favor at least.”

Fixing Walt with a serious look, Mozzie put the money away. “When your son or daughter arrives, make sure he or she feels loved.” Just saying the words, Mozzie feel his throat tighten slightly. He swallowed, fighting back the feeling. “Can you do that for me?”

The chauffeur looked surprised by Mozzie’s request, but his face broke into a smile. “I can do that, Mr. Alonzo. I’ll make sure he’s taken care of. You have my word.”

With a satisfied nod, Mozzie got out of the car. He hadn’t brought much besides clothes. None of his other belongings were as important, and he couldn’t exactly stick a piano on a train. Mozzie shifted his suitcase to his left hand and held his right one towards Walt. “Thank you for everything. Perhaps we’ll meet again…”

The older cat shook his hand with a sad sort of smile on his face. He nodded. “You take care of yourself, Mr. Alonzo. Where do you plan on going?”

The younger of the two gave a shrug as their hands parted. “I don’t know… westward, I think. Out of the state too, if I’m lucky… Will you be alright?”

Mozzie seemed to realize that he might land his trusty driver in a bit of trouble with what he was about to pull now. Even the alibi was very flimsy. The last thing Mozzie wanted was for Walt to end up in trouble because of him, especially when he’d always been so kind to him.

“I think so. I won’t tell anyone where you’re going, all I can say is that you left all on your own.” Walt seemed uncertain, but the reassuring smile he gave Mozzie was enough to relieve the younger cat of some of the worry and guilt. He looked up at the large station again and sighed.

“Well, here I go. You take care of your family, Walt,” Mozzie said with a smile on his face, the first smile he’d had on his face in quite some time.

Mozzie crossed the street, casting a last long look back at Walt, who waved and drove off, leaving him all alone. It was a strange sort of feeling, knowing that it was the first time in his life that he was doing something all by himself; something he wanted and something no one else had coaxed him into doing. Was this what a real life felt like? Was this what other people felt like their whole life? He slowly walked into the station, suitcase in hand, satchel over his shoulder.

Once he was seated on the train, Mozzie decided to put his satchel with money under his jacket to keep it hidden – for safety. Once the train eventually got rolling, the young cat glanced out at Pittsburgh through the window. Although he didn’t know for sure that it would be, this felt like a final goodbye. Odds were he’d never return, at least returning wasn’t currently a part of his plans. His dark green eyes watched as the city almost appeared to be pulled away from him, facing the front back of the train.

It was a strange feeling Mozzie felt as he watched the city slip away; a mixture of happiness for himself, sadness for leaving behind what he knew and excitement for what he might find.

However… as much excitement as Mozzie felt as he rode on the train, it was nothing compared to how exhilarating getting off the train felt. His foot felt strangely shaky as it made first contact with the platform hours later. It was then and there that the realization hit him; he’d made it out of Pennsylvania into Ohio – he was free.

Mozzie didn’t even care about his next course of action – all he cared about was this feeling of truly being on his own for the first time in his life. As the young, slender cat walked along the dark platform of Cambridge’s Union Station, his heart was racing with excitement. It wasn’t his first time out of state, but it was his first time being far from home all alone. Even the chilling night air couldn’t dampen his mood.

A small part of him was intimidated by the prospect, uncertainty from having to take care of himself, but at the same time, the joy Mozzie felt balanced it out. He could go anywhere he wanted; to the Great Lakes, the East Coast, hell, even Canada. No one could tell him no!

Lugging his suitcase along, Mozzie had taken to hiding his satchel of money under his jacket. Who knew what types of people he might encounter out here? Surely a young man with a sack of money would be seen as an easy target. The tall, young cat moved among the very small crowd that left behind the platform and moved out to the street beyond the depot. Several people were clearly reunited with loved ones that had waited for them.

Feeling just the smallest sting of envy, Mozzie watched as a girl around his age shared a hug with what he presumed to be her parents. To feel that sort of joy from seeing your folks… Mozzie could only imagine. But he also knew that if he returned, that was far from the welcome he’d get. Turning his green-eyed gaze away, Mozzie set his sights on the street ahead.

It was a street leading two ways, and Mozzie didn’t even know where he ought to go. His eyes were drawn to the upwards sloping side of the street. He supposed the first course of action should be to find food and somewhere to stay for the night. It was getting so late and he didn’t much fancy sleeping on the train.

His eye was next drawn to the black cars parked outside the station depot. Tall, boxy profiles with drivers waiting outside. Mozzie had seen enough taxis in his life to know that he should be able to take one of those to the nearest hotel in town. It was their business to know where to take their patrons, after all. Before he approached one, Mozzie did consider if he really should. Though he wasn’t short on money by any means, he also knew that they’d run out sooner than later. He was paying for everything out of his own pocket from now on, not his parents’ pockets. But perhaps just this once…

“Ah, good day, young mistah. Where to?” the taxi driver greeted him as he stepped closer. He was a gray tabby immediately reminded Mozzie of Walt, except he was noticeably older…

Walt…

Mozzie wondered again if he’d gotten his trusty chauffeur in trouble back home. He hoped he hadn’t, it would be a poor way to repay him for all he’d done. Feeling his heart sink for just a moment, Mozzie tried to ignore the feeling. Yeah, Walt was fine… nothing to worry about… Right?

“Uh… any nice hotels in this town?” Mozzie asked. He realized he didn’t know the first thing about Cambridge. It seemed like a fairly small town, especially compared to Pittsburgh. What if they didn’t even have hotels here? Small-towns were unfamiliar territory to Mozzie…

“Ah, you might want to check out Berwick Hotel, it’s a quaint place,” the driver said, fixing Mozzie with a curious sort of stare. Mozzie hadn’t seen that look before in his life, but it didn’t unnerve him. He looked curious, almost suspicious. Was he wondering if Mozzie had enough money on him?

“Splendid, please take me there,” Mozzie said promptly, tone and face neutral. He did sound like he was in a hurry, and perhaps he was, at least based on how readily he got into the back of the taxi. Although now that he was in another state, it wasn’t like Mozzie was at any immediate risk of being brought back to Pittsburgh. Mozzie had to wonder what his parents’ reaction had been to him not arriving. Hell, what were they going to do about it?

Though he had no basis for whether they would or not, Mozzie wouldn’t put it past his parents to attempt to find him. Maybe sending someone to get him. But they wouldn’t do anything illegal, would they? No, they didn’t have tendencies like that. But maybe he was giving them too much credit. His mother especially could be quite unhinged at times…

Mozzie leaned back in his seat and tried to calm himself. He was being rather paranoid. Mozzie supposed it was just the guilt that came from running away. But there was no reason to feel guilty, Mozzie thought to himself. The only reason he felt guilty was because of how his parents had raised him… Yeah, that had to be it. They’d never approve of what he was doing. If he ever returned home, Mozzie could guess what would be in store for him; he’d likely be flayed within an inch of his life, possibly kicked out and disowned… although the latter part didn’t sound too bad, all things considered.

Although it hadn’t felt like a particularly long train journey, spending those hours alone on the train had really left Mozzie hungry and tired. Though he wanted to put at least two state borders between himself and Pennsylvania, Mozzie had to prioritize eating and resting for now.

As he the taxi drove into town, Mozzie glanced out the window at the passing shops and buildings. Cambridge was an all-new place to him, but it was a nice, quaint little town, it seemed. Seeing as it was getting close to dinner time, there weren’t a lot of people out and about. Mozzie did spot a few restaurants on the way, which was a good sign. He’d have several dining options, if the hotel had none.

Mozzie was grateful for the silence that came with the fully closed off compartment he sat in. He could see the driver outside, watching him on occasion. He still very much reminded him of Walt…

When they arrived at Berwick Hotel, Mozzie looked up at the building. It had quite the striking facade, the building bright crimson with white accents, three white arches over the doors that led inside. Three stories tall, the second floor windows had striking white frames. Mozzie hastily paid for his ride, before bidding a good night to the driver who so reminded him of his personal chauffeur. Though the drive to the hotel hadn’t been long, the air had gotten considerably colder outside. Suitcase in hand, Mozzie ascended the stairs up to the door, gratefully stepping into the lobby and out of the cold.

“Oh, good evening, sir,” the receptionist said when he stepped up to the front desk. She was a bit older than Mozzie, probably in her mid or late twenties, a short-furred, orange tabby with quite frizzy, black hair. “Room for one?”

“Yes, please,” Mozzie said promptly. He may he homeless now, but the proper posture and tone he’d been strong-armed into using since he could walk still remained. He did hesitate to give his name when it came to properly checking in, but nevertheless, Mozzie gave them his legal name. The young cat had his reservations about it, but he figured it was for the best. Surely no one would come looking for him, right? Right, he was just being overly cautious at this point…

The receptionist called over a bellhop who appeared to be about the same age as Mozzie. He was a bit shorter, and his fur brilliant white all over and his eyes stormy gray. He was clad in a uniform, wearing a rather nice crimson jacket that matched the facade of the hotel. Besides the color, the bellhop’s uniform was rather simplistic with bright, golden buttons here and there for detail. As he carried his suitcase into the elevator, Mozzie followed, room key in hand, clutched tightly, as if afraid of dropping it.

“First time in town, sir?” Mozzie flinched when the bellhop addressed him as they went up. He glanced sideways, the other cat fixing him with a small smile. Mozzie calmed down quickly enough. He shouldn’t be this jumpy, it would look suspicious. He cleared his throat.

“Yes, I’m from out of state, Mr.…?”

“Oh, just call me Carl, Mr. Alonzo,” the bellhop said with that same cautious smile as before. Mozzie returned a polite smile, although he had a feeling his jumpiness had seemed rather off. For a brief second, Mozzie did wonder how the other knew his name, but of course, that came down to overhearing it by the counter. He needed to relax… “You in town for business or pleasure?”

Initially tempted to tell the other cat to mind his own business, Mozzie thought better of it; he didn’t want to be like his parents. If anything, he wanted to be as little like them as he could. He offered Carl a more genuine smile. “Just passing through, really. Still got a long trip ahead.”

“Oh, really? Where are you headed to?” Mozzie somehow hadn’t counted on this question coming up, although it seemed obvious. Since he actually hadn’t made any plans, Mozzie couldn’t even give Carl a specific destination, not even a shot in the dark.

“Uh… Well, I’m still working on that,” he said, clearing his throat a bit. The white cat looked at him curiously, but didn’t inquire any further. When they arrived on the second floor, Mozzie followed Carl as he carried his luggage for him. Door 203 was promptly unlocked, revealing a nice little room inside. It was decently sized, easily big enough to accommodate Mozzie quite comfortably.

“Thank you, now… would you happen to know good eateries around town?” Mozzie asked as he reached under his jacket, coming up with a nice tip of a few dollars for Carl. The other cat seemed surprised by such a tip, but he eagerly took the money.

“Oh there are plenty of dining options, Mr. Alonzo,” Carl said politely, pocketing his tip. “Just a few doors down is the nearest one, it’s got a quaint rustic style. Old-style recipes – real fine place, even if it is very unassuming.”

Even as bellhop listed yet more options, Mozzie took note of each one. Granted, he wasn’t picky… not too picky anyway. He had standards, but he wouldn’t turn his nose up at something that wasn’t made by a personal chef.

…

When Mozzie eventually did return from his dinner, he threw himself on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, like he’d do at home. He drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes and exhaled. The gray tomcat laid with his arms and legs spread as if he was about to start doing snow angels on his mattress. It was late, he’d been the last guest of the diner he’d visited, but how could he possibly sleep now with so much on his mind? The last thing Mozzie felt like doing was laying down and sleeping, even if he knew he ought to do so – the earlier he fell asleep, the earlier he could leave in the morning, right?

Sitting up, Mozzie moved over to the window. He could see the street below – dark, but illuminated by streetlights here and there. A few pedestrians were making their way around, but besides the odd couple of people here and there, the streets were deserted. He didn’t much fancy going for a walk at night in a town he’d never visited – what if he got lost?

But even so, Mozzie was too excited to sleep. He sighed and got out of bed. Locking his money in the nightstand drawer beside his bed, he left his hotel room. Mozzie was still wearing the same outfit he’d left home in. As long as he didn’t leave the hotel, he probably didn’t need his jacket.

Making his way down to the lobby, Mozzie took to casually strolling through the halls of the hotel. Though it didn’t have a big, sprawling ballroom, like other hotels Mozzie had been in, it still had quite a lovely little lounge. It was deserted and dark until he turned the lights on. Comfortable-looking chairs, nice carpets on the floor paintings on the walls along with a large bookcase. And in the corner…

Mozzie only hesitated for a moment to approach the studio piano, gently brushing the keys as if to clean off dust that wasn’t there. He pulled the stool out and sat down, back as straight as a board. He sighed, before his fingers found the keys and he began quietly playing a few little chords, humming to himself as he did. The piano wasn’t perfectly tuned, nor was it as impressive as the grand piano he had at home. But that didn’t seem to matter right now. It was a piano and he was just happy to get his fingers moving again.

Closing his eyes, Mozzie continued playing, simple chord progressions. He didn’t just stick to chords for long, soon he began playing other songs, old classics from decades past, as well as newer, more upbeat songs too. He did most of them with his eyes closed. Mozzie pictured himself up on stage like he’d been before as part of an orchestra… but this time… this time it was all him by himself.

He remembered the bright lights, the way the grand piano would resonate into a concert hall. Mozzie was so caught up in the moment, it wasn’t until he opened his dark green eyes that he realized he’d had a spectator. Startled, he played the wrong key, before coming to a halt.

“Good lord…!” he exclaimed having jumped quite a bit when he had turned to see the familiar bellhop standing there. “It’s just you… what are you doing here so late? Still working?”

Carl offered a small smile and shook his head. “Oh, I just heard you playing from the hall, I was helping with getting a few things sorted out down in the basement. But I could ask you the same, Mr. Alonzo…”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I can’t sleep – I just saw the piano and…” Mozzie trailed off, before standing back up.

“So, you’re a traveling musician, sir?” Carl asked curiously, his fluffy ears perked right up like two snow-white mountain peaks. “You’re very good, you must be a professional!”

“Not quite…” Mozzie paused. Even if it had been a wild session of daydreaming, Mozzie couldn’t get that feeling out of his head, the feeling of wanting to doing what he was good at for a crowd who enjoyed it. “I used to play for people up on stage, but I haven’t in quite some time. My parents never saw that as a good career path and they’re so set in their ways…”

“Ah, so you ran away to chase your dreams, did you?” Carl immediately asked. His tone wasn’t judgmental, if anything, it sounded almost understanding. Once again, Mozzie felt the temptation to tell the bellhop to keep his nose out of his business, but he thought better of it this time as well. He crossed his arms.

“Something like that. I just couldn’t stand to live with them anymore,” Mozzie said, face tightening. He didn’t know why he humored this guy, but he also didn’t see a reason to be rude towards the friendly bellhop. “I just need to get out there and figure life out for myself.”

Carl turned and looked as if ‘out there’ was within Mozzie’s line of sight, before looking back at the gray cat. “So you’re headed for them big cities? I’m sure you could find work, you’re a fantastic pianist, Mr. Alonzo.”

Mozzie’s expression softened noticeably. He didn’t recall the last time he’d been praised like that. The most he got from the owners of establishments he’d played in this summer was money and being told he did well. Not quite as surface level as his parents, but close; their praise had started out strong, almost heartfelt, when he was smaller, but Mozzie knew that was just to encourage him at an early age. These past few years, he would’ve lucky to receive a nod of approval from his father.

“Thank you…” That sort of praise had left Mozzie almost completely discombobulated for a moment, but he smiled some at the bellhop. “Well, it’s getting late, I think we both deserve some sleep. You have a pleasant night, alright?”

Of course, they both still had to leave through the same door, making the goodbye less than ideal. “Oh, if I may make a suggestion, maybe send a postcard home before you leave tomorrow, Mr. Alonzo. I’m sure your parents miss you.”

Glancing sideways, Mozzie looked far from convinced that this was a good idea. For one, they may just be able to find him, if the postcard was specific enough. Additionally, Mozzie didn’t know that they quite deserved that much courtesy from his side. “I’d rather not…”

“Oh. I just thought maybe they’d like to know that their son’s alive and doing well even without them,” Carl said simply. He offered Mozzie a small smile and even a wink. “I bet that’d really stick it to ‘em, don’t you?”

Mozzie stopped in his tracks as Carl turned down the hall towards the employees-only part of the building, leaving Mozzie to stand there and think about his words. He supposed he could write a scornful letter, highlighting how much better his life was now… or maybe just a strongly worded letter about how much better life was without them looming over him…

He would prove them wrong, chase his dreams, be successful. Nothing would be sweeter than showing them that he did indeed have what it took to live off his music. A sweet victory without the crutches of nepotism. Smiling with grim satisfaction, Mozzie pictured his mother’s appalled face upon learning that he was doing exactly what they didn’t want him to do.

That Carl… He was onto something. Mozzie couldn’t help but wonder… had Carl been through this himself? He seemed so nonchalant about suggesting such a thing. Mozzie had so many questions about that bellhop, but eventually he did make his way back to the elevator by himself, taking it back up to the second floor.

Mozzie awoke the next morning with an extra pep in his step. He hadn’t had a single plan since leaving home, but now… the stage was calling him. It had lit a fire under him like he’d never felt before. He could barely keep still as he sat in the lobby, writing that postcard Carl had advised him to write. He’d thought about it until he fell asleep and he’d decided on the angle he wanted to go for; a calm sort of smugness, never acknowledging the fact that he’d run away.

He simply wrote it like he had taken a vacation, keeping up a formal, impersonal tone. He told them how delightful the train journey was, what a wonderful town he’d stopped by in and of course, what his plans were. Mozzie wasn’t a fool, he wasn’t going to tell them where he was going, but he told them that he had set his sights on a music career.

“Best regards… Mozzie Alonzo…” he muttered as he jotted down the final line in his neat, tidy handwriting. The particular postcard Mozzie had purchased from the front desk of the hotel had the beautiful crimson facade of Berwick Hotel and the surrounding buildings on it. He slipped the card into an envelope and rose to his feet, planning on sending it once he’d had his breakfast. But first…

He’d purchased two postcards, placing one into his suitcase, before placing the postcard he intended to send into his jacket pocket. Mozzie closed and picked up his suitcase, before he approached the white-furred bellhop. He smiled at Mozzie as he approached, tail giving a curious flick behind him. And Mozzie returned the smile. “Ah, Carl, I just wanted to thank you before I leave. I’ve taken your advice and I’ll let my parents know how that I’m doing better than ever.”

“Oh that’s grand, Mr. Alonzo! Where are you off to? Or is that a secret?” Carl asked eagerly. He hurriedly reached for Mozzie’s hand to give it a firm shake with both his.

Mozzie let out a soft chuckle and shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I think I’ll aim for somewhere further down south. A bit of distance before I settle down will be nice.” Mozzie let go of Carl’s hand after a couple shakes too many. “Well, if I ever come back to Cambridge, I hope we meet again. You be safe, Carl.”

“I hope so too, Mr. Alonzo, you take care of yourself out there – and good luck!” the white-furred bellhop said eagerly, waving Mozzie off as he left. Sure it looked a bit less than professional, but it brought a genuine smile to Mozzie’s face. If only he’d had a friend like Carl growing up. Perhaps he’d send him a postcard as well sometime…

Once Mozzie had had a big, filling all-American breakfast at a nearby diner, he set off for the station. He walked this time – he felt so energized, the idea of having to sit still on a train almost sounded like torture.

Money satchel under his jacket, suitcase in hand, Mozzie had to force himself not to bolt towards Union Station like a maniac. His face almost hurt from smiling… Was that because he wasn’t used to it? Or was this normal when someone smiled this much? Cambridge was a beautiful town, and it was wonderfully sunny and the sky was clear. Had it not been for the chilly breezes that sometimes buffeted his face, it felt like autumn was far away.

But before he could board the train, Mozzie had to send his postcard. He felt a strange sort of satisfaction, almost smugness as the envelope slipped from his fingers and into the mailbox where it hit another stack of letters with a soft, padded thud.

And it was done…

At the station, Mozzie promptly purchased a train ticket to Cincinnati, well aware that this would take a full day, but he could only feel excitement. Cincinnati was a big city, he’d be able to board a train to just about anywhere else from there! Maybe down to Kentucky or over to Illinois, the possibilities were almost endless!

Waiting for the train, Mozzie tapped his foot impatiently. It was so unlike what he’d been raised to do; standing up all prim, proper and still, like a statue. But he was just too damn excited. Mozzie had to remind himself to calm down as to not jump on the train, but he entered in an orderly fashion and found his seat. He cast a final glance out at the station before they began moving, but this time Mozzie felt excitement, optimism. And as he sat facing the front of the train, this time it was as if he was being sent out into the whole, wide world, instead of the world being pulled away from him.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy fanfiction #mozzie alonzo #lackadaisy mozzie

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kits-ships · 1 year

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♦+♠+♒ pls! for anyone you want <3

[♦ - Emotional headcanon]

By the time Olive first met the fifth incarnation of the Doctor, she'd learned what regeneration did and the effects it could have. Still, because they hadn't seen each other in a bit (it could have been decades for the Doctor) AND because he recently regenerated, he. Did not recognize her right away.

She was already expecting a bit of difficulty adjusting to his new appearance/personality, so having him be confused by her forwardness stung. A lot. Especially since the last time they were together was their literal honeymoon.

"I'll always love you, no matter how many incarnations you go through. I just hope you don't completely forget me one day."

"I may not remember each moment. I may have lost some memories. But that doesn't mean that our time together, that our love, means any less."

[♠ - Painful headcanon] (idk if i know the difference between painful and emotional but )

Once the Doctor left for Gallifrey during the Last Great Time War, Olive didn't really know if he was ever going to come back. There were always gaps between his visits and that was fine, but after fifteen years of being married, they never went over two months without seeing each other.

So, when he was gone for three years (four hundred for the Doctor,) she had to slowly accept that he wasn't coming back. It didn't help that she was all alone in her new house, either: no roommates, no pets, and barely any neighbors to talk to. She occasionally considered moving back to the city to meet people, but the thought of the Doctor showing up to her old plot of land- unable to find her after fighting an entire war- broke her heart. That, and she would have to give up her garden and business to move.

Even when he did show up and knock on her door- she was terrified. After saying goodbye to her 5'9, curly-haired husband three years ago, she was NOT expecting to see a 6' man in a leather jacket trying to break into her house!

Olive then had to spend time comforting him, learning all about his new quirks, and listening to what little he had to say about Gallifrey. He could barely even admit what became of their friends- refusing to give any other information other than the entire planet was destroyed.

[♒ - Family headcanon] (olive doesnt have the best relationship with her parents so content warning just in case)

Olive's parents raised her- their only child- in Cincinnati. They wanted her to do well in school, partake in extracurriculars, and eventually attend a private university to major in accounting. She was supposed to be their exemplary, well-behaved daughter, but that changed once Olive turned seventeen.

It was at this point Olive had taken an interest in protests, listening to loud music, and she wanted to see the world. She'd even applied to university on the other side of the state in an attempt to taste freedom where she eventually majored in both botany and culinary arts! Her family was appalled and begged her to at LEAST change her major- their pleas lasting throughout all four years of college. They even offered to pay for her education if she studied accounting instead! Of course, Olive refused- not wanting to become a slave to capitalism or the government (a true sixties girly)- and kept partying, attending concerts, and joining local groups that opposed racial inequalities as well as the war.

By the time she finished school, her parents cut her off completely and refused to attend her graduation. They found that they would rather pretend she never existed than admit that they had a daughter that did drugs and hated the government. She was a stain they were desperate to get rid of, and Olive got the message- choosing to travel around in the lil VW bus that she turned into her home instead of ever returning to her parents.

#thank u thank u !!!#chooqueuetrain #d; youre a book thats not quite finished but ill watch you fill the page #olive; the only one for me is you

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faithevangelista · 2 years

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Friendship & Companionship 💜

Image Courtesy of Seventeen Magazine

Alexa & Katie is a Netflix Orginal series. It tackles the topic of cancer with a theme of friendship and bravery. Alexa has a health condition of Leukemia, and she has a best friend, Katie who makes sure of her well being and always got her back no matter what. Watching this series has given me a whole new definition of the word friendship and companionship. This comedy and drama series will make you laugh and let you cry. Let me convince you to watch this series with 5 reasons.

1 It's a Teen Pic Genre!

Image Courtesy of IMDB

The character of Alexa (Paris Berelc) & Katie (Isabel May) are high school students who have been best friends ever since they were kids. They are ordinary high school students who goes through any typical teenagers go through. They join school clubs, activities, and such. Now, who didn't go through their teenage years? I'm sure everyone got to experience being nervous for their first day of high school. The simple happiness or kilig of seeing your crush in school. The thrill and excitement of applying to your dream university, and more. I assure you, anyone can relate and look back to their high school life and laugh along these experiences with Alexa and Katie!

2 A New Best Friend

Image Courtesy of Plugged In

This series will surely remind you to call up your friends and family and check up on them. Alexa & Katie sure did give friendship a whole new meaning. It will show you and remind you of the people who has always been there for you in times when you were at your lowest. Watching their friendship will also make you feel their warmth and love for each other as if they are also your best friends. Even in the saddest scenes of the series, you will never feel alone. You will always be assured that someone out there will always care for you and hold your hand as you go through the rockiest roads of life.

3 More Than A Drama Series!

Image Courtesy of Promax Brief

Alexa is diagnosed with Leukemia, a type of cancer. She goes through chemotherapy in hopes to be healed. Her sickness has also affected her mental health. There are episodes where you will see the struggles of a person with cancer. Even how hard they try to have a normal life, the truth of having a cancer will still slap them out of reality. The series does not only tell a story about the characters, but they surely gave awareness to the audiences as well about cancer. Media is surely a powerful element in giving information and awareness, because it's so nice that a drama-comedy series is able to give the audiences an image of what cancer really looks like.

4 Their Definition of Companionship

Image Courtesy of Wiki Fandom

After watching Alexa & Katie, I understood the difference of friendship and companionship. Friendship is where you have some people to hang out with. Someone who you can run to when things go bad. But in companionship, you are assured to always have someone beside you. You won't have to call them up to hang out with you. The both of you will just be in the same flow, and you both just know that you will hang out. Or you will immediately know if they are busy, and you will understand that you can't hangout today. Having a companion is also not needing to run to them when you are at your lowest, they will be the one to run to you and comfort you. Basically, companionship is having someone of the same flow and connection. If you want to understand it more, nothing will explain it better than the relationship of Alexa and Katie.

5 Your New Found Family

Image Courtesy of OEOnline

Alexa & Katie does not only revolve around their high school life and friendship. It also tackles family and courage. Alexa and Katie's family surely has shown their support to the 2 teenagers ever since. The love between their family is evident, as well as their love and care for each other's family. They are not just neighbors by chance, they have become a family by choice. Watching these two families will surely touch your heart and check up on your own family. Even a small "How are you?" will definitely turn around their sad day. If ever you are far away from your family, Alexa & Katie will surely give you a warm embrace to remind you that you are never alone.

Image Courtesy of Netflix

What are you waiting for? Watch this series to have a good cry and loads of laughter! This series will always remind you of who really matters to you most and who has been always there for you. Alexa and Katie is waiting for you to share a laugh with them!

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sigillaria-svt · 2 years

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖊: 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

Pairing: Reader x SEVENTEEN (Guild Fantasy AU)

Genres: Slice of Life, Action, Fantasy, Fluff/Angst

[Masterlist]

Edit: Did some minor adjustments to change the perspective

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Magical prowess and physical ability are not something that is easily gained in this world--instead, most of the abilities that make up brilliant magicians and brave warriors come from only one of two things: their blood or their loyalty to the darkness. If not passed down from their forefathers, others can only hope to gain powers by sacrificing something precious to them to the spirits that roam the wildlands. In the Almaz empire, great value is given to those with the power to harness magic that is light, pure, and holy—essentially magic that is considered clean. Although it isn’t something explicitly taught in schools, the empire definitely has a distorted view of those whose specializations lie in the gray area between what is good and what is evil.

Yet here you are, a female Naturalist of the Empire, also known as the Poisoner of Jatropha, a name that you really wanted to just get rid of because of how it takes you away from guild opportunities. In your free time, you can be found in the many libraries of the city, but during your spare time you study poisons and the properties that cause them, so you aren't really surprised about why they call you so.

Even before you got your infamous nickname, you've never really been associated with a guild. It's not that you were too weak to be accepted anywhere, but that the guilds have always shunned those that are involved in poisoning and other dark arts. You don't quite consider it a 'dark' art, since your goal in the first place was never to use it to poison other humans, but to find a way to poison dark creatures for the advantage of humans. That kind of logic never pushed through anyone, though, not especially in the Empire where light magic is the standard.

But today was a bit different from your usual guild-scouting shenanigans. In your visit to the Guild Masterhouse, you look through the bulletin board for guild openings and find one guild that had never submitted its name in for recruitment before: the guild SEVENTEEN.

Now normally, you'd avoid getting into a guild that was as exclusive as this, but in this case you think it'd be worth considering, even though for all the years that you've known them, they've never expanded beyond their original thirteen members. However, this was also one of the guilds that you might have a shot at. One of the members is an infamous necromancer, Yoon Jeonghan. If they're willing to take him in, they might take in a naturalist like you. Not that you are a typical naturalist--you aren't. You are a poisoner by definition, although not by classification, but there is more than one way to make use of your abilities, and you were going to give it your all.

You head over to the guild secretary at a desk on the other side of the room.

"Oh hello, Y/N." She says, not looking up as she looks through some papers. "Ready to give it another shot?"

"Yes." You say, almost laughing. You've visited this place at least once every week for the past six months, and you can't help but feel embarrassed and amused at the same time. "I heard that SEVENTEEN was looking for new people."

At this, the secretary looks up. "Well, yes. Yes, but..." She taps the papers in front of her to align them into a neat stack. "So far around twenty people have applied, all of them actually very good fighters, but the next day I come to work with a notice of rejection from the guild."

Rejection isn't something new to you. You simply nod at her and hold out your hand for the application paper.

"Alright, of course. You're going to try anyway, aren't you?"

With the filled and stamped application form, you make your way to SEVENTEEN's guild house, which was inconveniently found at the westernmost part of the city bordering the forest. Even the steam trains only led you up to the city walls, requiring you to take another hour of walking through the dirt roads of the great plains before finally spotting the single large building standing out against the pale grass.

The guild house is a three-story stone building with glassed windows and an even taller stone tower at the western wing facing the great plains. You walk up to the large wooden door on the front and knock as hard as you could.

After a few moments, the door is opened by an equally large, tan-skinned man who looks like he just got out of bed. "Huuuhhh...."

"Uh, hi, hello. My name is Y/N," You say with a smile, hopefully energetic enough to wake up the man. "I'm here to apply for that guild member position...?"

He squints at you. "You look like a student."

You frown slightly. "I'm a Naturalist. I cure diseases... or well, kind of. Or not. It depends. But anyway, is the position still open?"

The man steps aside to let you in, scratching the back of his head as he yawns. "Wait inside, I'll go get our leader."

You walk in and see the great contrast of the relatively mild exterior to the messy and diverse interior. Despite only having thirteen members--which is very small in comparison to other guilds--the inside of the large house is filled with a variety of equipment, books, furniture, and even a random summoned creature laying on the carpet. You aren't so sure where to sit, but the man beckons you to one of the couches--which, is not at all complimentary to the brown couch right at the other side of it.

The man disappears into the flight of stairs at the eastern end of the building, dragging his steps as he goes along.

While you wait, you look around. Despite the mess, the house is quiet, and the silence makes you feel all the more need to do or say something.

Thankfully, though, the man returns with three other people in a few minutes, one of which you recognize as Jeonghan the necromancer. You give them a small bow and a tight-lipped smile as they approach you. One of the three men, who is larger in build but more or less the same height as the other two, nods to the large man to dismiss him. He enters into one of the doors and is audibly heard falling back to his bed.

"It's nice to meet you. If you don't mind, we'll be having a quick interview here, followed by a quick sparring session outside." Says the man in the middle. "My name is Choi Seungcheol, and this is Yoon Jeonghan and Hong Joshua who will be assisting me with the recruitment process."

You already heard this hundreds of times before. In every single guild, the protocol was always the same.

"Alright, sounds good." You say comfortably.

They sit on the couch on the other side of yours, each of them looking like they haven't slept much either. You know the man is going to ask you some questions, but you're not really sure about the other two. Jeonghan looks like he's going to ask the most absurd questions possible, while Joshua seems to be nice and friendly--but we never really know what goes on in the minds of strangers.

You hand the papers to Seungcheol and he goes over them very quickly. "You've never been in a guild before, huh? That's weird, last time I checked, a lot of guilds were looking for naturalists."

"Uhuh, well," You manage to laugh in the middle of your sentence--a bad habit that you have whenever you get nervous. "I specialize in poisons and well, obviously, their antidotes. But you know how it is, poison is considered a dark art and..."

The guild leader nods and immediately moves on to the question, understanding the distaste of most of the people for specialties like these. "Any offensive techniques in the field?"

You pause for a second. "I'm not bad, but it's a bit unconventional how I use it."

"Unconventional?"

"You'll get what I mean in the sparring session later." You say quickly. This part always made the other guild recruiters suspicious, but it doesn't seem to phase the three all that much.

Joshua speaks up for the first time, leaning forward slightly as he starts. "How good is your general healing? I'm a Priest and I heard that your kind of healing is different from ours."

"Well, healing naturally fluctuates with the amount of damage the patient receives. I work my way through natural healing processes, and just speed up what happens along." You answer carefully. "I believe yours happens... a bit more magically, if I may say."

This earns a small laugh from the priest, and Jeonghan follows up with a question of his own. "Can you tell us about this poison that you seem to specialize in so much?"

The way he asked was strange, though. In fact, the question itself was strange because you don't remember telling anyone about your current research progress, nor writing it down on any documentation handed to them.

"Well... I've told a few guilds about it before, but I'm trying to work on poison against dark creatures." You stare at Jeonghan straight in the eye, and he stares back with his dark eyes as if he knew everything that was going on in your mind. "On its progress... well you're going to find out about that later if you decide to take me in."

"That's not what I meant."

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, but quickly compose yourself. "Okay, what did you mean?"

Jeonghan quickly moves his eyes to something right next to my head before returning back to meet my gaze. "The one that you worked on before you were going into poison against dark creatures... before you even graduated from the academy."

This has you dazed.

You think to yourself before answering. This was something that you were far more secretive about. You literally told nobody about this and worked on it in secret before deciding that it was far too dangerous to proceed. Your heart was racing thinking about whether or not it was safe to divulge this kind of information.

"If I tell you, would that increase my chances of getting in?"

"That depends."

"And what if I said that it was dangerous?"

Jeonghan remains silent. You were being extra careful with this because it might be sensitive to a necromancer like Jeonghan. You look over to Joshua and Seungcheol, but both of them have both confusion and anticipation. This question was something that only Yoon Jeonghan had a full grasp of.

"Well?" Jeonghan asks as he leans forward slightly.

You decide to tell the truth. It's not like they could turn you in for something they don't have concrete evidence of except for your word. "I was working on a poison that did nothing to the physical body but devastated your means of magic—a poison for the soul, essentially cutting off your abilities from your bloodline."

Seungcheol and Joshua looked shocked, and honestly slightly afraid, but Jeonghan remains calm about the entire thing. "And did it work?" Jeonghan asks.

"Well... yes." Your admission causes a few more eyebrows to be raised. "I know it's hard to believe, but yes, and I'm not going to go back into it ever again."

"Did something happen?" Joshua asks. "I mean, you can tell us only if you're comfortable."

"Hmm, nothing grand happened. Even if it worked, I didn't make any attempt to make it perfect. I used it one someone I know and... well let's just say they're working to get back years of lost work."

Jeonghan looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that I damaged a link, somewhere… perhaps. He lost half of his abilities spontaneously over the course of a few days. If the dose was stronger or the poison less contaminated, he would have lost everything." You say, worried but relieved to get it off your chest. "I... didn't mean to do it, and I told my friend about it but... Well, we don't really talk anymore."

Silence. You couldn't hear anything else except for your heartbeat in the large room.

Jeonghan looks as if he's contemplating something before speaking, looking at different things around the room, as if in a conversation that only he's in. "Alright, we'll take you in. Go get your things and move in by tomorrow."

"What?" you ask with a bit of shock. To your surprise, both Seungcheol and Joshua mirrored your reaction to Jeonghan's statement.

"Wait, no, Jeonghan." Seungcheol says, putting his hand over Jeonghan's shoulder. "We haven't even sparred, and we just heard that she had been working on dangerous things--heck, we haven't even run a thorough background check on her!"

Jeonghan crosses his arms. "Well, the ghosts seem to like her, and she doesn’t seem to be lying or having bad intentions. Do you want to go ahead and get poisoned as a free trial, then?"

"Well, I mean, I do have an antidote for all my poisons if you still want to tussle." You say quietly.

Jeonghan looks at you briefly but immediately goes back to Seungcheol. "We're looking for a support, and she fits the job. Poison is just one step away from medicine, anyway."

Joshua speaks up to ease the tension between the two. "If you're so decided on approving her application, it still wouldn't hurt to see her abilities, right? We should go on for a small sparring session."

Seungcheol turns to you. "You have those so-called unconventional fighting methods, don't you? Well, let's go ahead and see them."

You let out a nervous breath. He's making it seem like the request is your idea. "Alright."

The four of you head off to a small open area behind the guild house, right next to the edge of the towering forest. Seungcheol takes his place opposite to you as Jeonghan and Joshua watch at the sides. You haven't done a physical fight in a while, so you hope that muscle memory serves you well this time.

You take off your shoes, which earns a baffled look from the guild leader. "I can use poison, right?" You ask, and Jeonghan gives you a firm nod, all to Seungcheol's displeasure. "I'll take that as a yes."

Seungcheol was obviously taken aback initially, but all of that has now been replaced with complete focus as he uses basic spells to put up defenses and boost his own physical abilities.

From an inexperienced eye, it may look like you're simply standing on the grass with your feet to the ground, but underneath, you're already using magic to manipulate the one thing that your family has been for generations: roots.

It's hard to explain how magic feels like exactly, especially since it's different for everyone. The best way to imagine it would be like having your blood go thicker and heavier as it moves through your body. It's not painful or uncomfortable, just draining. It's hard to control what you can't see, but years of training have made you proficient at it.

They grow closer and closer to Seungcheol like a hidden animal waiting to pounce, and at just the right moment, they snap out of the ground to keep him in his place. You quickly run up to him and charge at him with a flurry of blows, but you're met with a completely calm defense.

Obviously, he was a better fighter than you, but that doesn't stop you from still trying to figure out a way to get through his defenses. You take a few steps back, trying to assess the situation again.

"Ah, this is pretty inconvenient." Seungcheol says as he attempts to wriggle out from the roots.

If you were going to impress the guild leader enough to let you in, you were going to have to take out your best weapons. In this case, you had one trick up your sleeve, but it was a gamble.

It's going to take up nearly all of your magical energy, but you do it anyway.

Before he lets another foot out, you take on a burst of power and manage to surge out a large tangle of tree roots, enough to engulf Seungcheol up to his shoulders. The speed of growth is not fast, but it is definitely sturdy. This time, it takes him off guard and disrupts a part of his magic defense around himself.

You take advantage of the situation and deftly climb on the roots to make up for the difference in height and pull out three large needles filled with paralyzing poison. Despite draining much of your magical energy, adrenaline pushes you to another burst of energy to end the match as quickly as you could. Your hands quickly make their way to his exposed neck, made more accessible with the tugging and pulling of the continuously growing tree roots.

Just one more inch further, and the needles would pierce him cleanly in the artery and poison would spread in a few heartbeats.

But it doesn't go in.

Instead, you find yourself abruptly thrown back and laid flat on the grass, pinned down by dancing shadows around your arms and legs.

"Alright. We'll end the fight here." Jeonghan says. With a flick of a wrist, he dismisses the shadows and you sit up from your position, still nearly breathless. "Release him from the roots will you?"

It takes you a few seconds before fully processing what had just happened. You look over to Seungcheol, is was nearly unseen under the thick layers of intertwined wooden roots, and you quickly bring them back to the ground. Seungcheol takes in deep breaths now that he's finally able to move again.

"Hey, Yoon Jeonghan! You said you'd intervene if it gets too dangerous!" He said, angry but not furious at his friend who was just smirking at the side. "I really thought I was going to black out!"

"It was your fault for underestimating her." He shrugs.

You slowly get up from your position, still shocked that you ended up this far away from Seungcheol in the blink of an eye. This was obviously Yoon Jeonghan's doing--sly spells from the sly necromancer. You've heard about how he works before, but it was definitely different from experiencing it yourself.

Seungcheol looks back at you, arms on his hips. "You did well, but I don't want to see those needles ever again."

"So, does this prove my point? The ghosts don't lie and we definitely need another healer or support if we want to do more missions with smaller teams." Jeonghan says, getting into a topic that you seem to be out of.

Finally, with a nod, Seungcheol gives in to Jeonghan. "Yeah, alright. Let's take her in."

A wave of joy mixed with relief washes over you.

Finally.

After all this time, there is finally a guild that is willing to accept you. These past few months of working as an independent mage with a suspicious specialty will finally come to an end, and you were more than excited.

"Thank you very much, I'll do my best!"

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Thank you for getting through the first chapter! This is my first multi-chapter SEVENTEEN work, so I hope that you enjoyed it. I’m also excited to write on the individual members in the following chapters~

#Seventeen #Svt #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #reader x seventeen #choi seungcheol #yoon jeonghan #joshua hong #hong jisoo #seventeen fantasy au

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elytrafemme · 2 years

Note

Summer camp au! :D ranboo and tubbo both feel they’re isolated from the other bubbly and energetic kids, and feel like they’re too old for camp, but end up breaking away from the rest of the group and becoming friends in the woods or while canoeing or something. (You can still go to many camps up until 17 so you don’t need to make them kids or anything like that)

Tubbo has always been a fan of the outdoors.

For a lot of his life when he was way younger, he didn’t really get the chance to go outside and everything. He had lived in a completely different town, first of all, where the winters were way worse and it rained from April all the way to the last week of August. He was home-schooled and cooped up, and aside from a few times he went out stargazing by himself, he never get the best shot to really get outside and do stuff.

When he was around ten, though, he ended up leaving that shitty town. It was a whole ordeal that he remembers, but is sort of a pain in the ass to think about without breaking it up into easy chunks. One day he was here, the next day he was heaving his bags into the house of the guy who adopted him, Phil. Somewhere between there was him sitting in the backseat of a car listening to music on his shitty little iPod for six hours, him collecting all of his valuables the night before, and his surprise when they took a break at a gas station and he felt the air, the way it was different.

It was a whole thing. A whole good thing, in Tubbo’s opinion, even if the circumstances could have done to be a bit better.

Because, when June rolled around in the Philza Minecraft household, Tubbo was being handed pieces of paper listing out summer camps. To get himself out there and all that. There were a lot of theatre camps, which Tubbo hard-denied even when his adopted siblings poured themselves over the registration window to perform fucking Macbeth. There was a pretty passionate cluster of people who held an annual fishing camp, and there was other stuff like arts and all that.

What intrigued Tubbo most, though, was a three week camp where he spent most of his time outdoors, climbing trees and learning archery and starting campfires and all that. At age ten, he signed up for it, and only a week later he was off to spend what would be the best three weeks of his life.

When the summer was over and the next had come, he applied again. And again the year after that. And again. And again.

And now, at age seventeen, Tubbo Underscore is having a standoff with the same camp counselor he’s known since the beginning, Captain Puffy, for extra special privileges to run off into the woods.

As per usual.

“Tubbo,” Puffy starts, rubbing her temples. Tubbo already knows what she’s going to say– it’s the same trick she tried last year, but she forgets how absolutely stubborn Tubbo is. “You broke your ankle on one of those trees the last time I sent you off on your own.”

“The last last time,” he corrects. “Two years ago. And that was on me, I picked a real shit tree. I’m like, almost an adult now, I know what a good tree is when I see it.”

Puffy sighs. “But you can see why I’m concerned!”

“Nope, not really!” Tubbo fights back a grin as Puffy sighs again, long wooly hair falling around her as she buries her face in her hands. He should maybe try and console her. “Look, on the bright side, Phil won’t blame you, ‘cause he knows it’s my fault. Yeah?”

“That doesn’t change the situation legally, Tubbo!” Puffy looks up, and Tubbo can tell by the glimpse in her eye that she’s close to giving up. Tubbo’s worn her down over the years. The two of them are a great pair. Years ago, she made a joke to Phil saying that she wished Tubbo was her kid, and since then, Tubbo’s tormented her. He’s pretty sure the sentiment’s the same, though. A great pair. “Look. You are coming back by sundown. If it’s dark and you haven’t seen me specifically, I’m never letting you out again. Got it?”

Tubbo nods. “Yes, Captain.”

Puffy stands up, like all’s been settled, and gives him a smile. A tired smile, but a smile all the same. “Fine. Then go off, you strange fucking child.”

Swearing privileges. Another benefit of being the oldest camper. Tubbo can tell Puffy’s always fighting off a few fucks because of the kids.

Tubbo chirps out, “Thank you!” before darting off, because if he loiters long enough, Puffy will start to second guess the decision she just made. And Tubbo can’t have that, can he? It’s his last year at this camp as a camper– he’s technically applying to be a volunteer next year, but that probably means less wandering into the woods alone and free– so Tubbo deserves this. He’s been good. A senior camper, if you will. A good impression on the younger kids.

Almost everyone at the camp is a whole five years younger than Tubbo, ranging from a rough age group of seven to twelve. Tubbo’s not sure why people stop coming back; school and shit gets tough, yeah, but one could just be like Tubbo and infinitely take gap years from college as he tries to figure out what the fuck to do with himself. You know, the most well adjusted way to cope with impending adulthood and all that. Whatever. He’ll fuck off and move North one of these days and become a chemistry major and work at a fast food chain someday.

Now, though, he’s young and free. But not as young as the other campers. ‘Cause most of them are around seven to twelve, which is pretty sick, because Tubbo actually likes being around kids a lot. People his age are fine, obviously, but he’s kind of had enough chattering with adults over the course of his life that he’s pretty content to stick to a small population of them when he can. Like Captain Puffy, and Phil, and… some other adults, sometimes. The biology teacher at his old high school’s pretty sick. Tubbo sends him emails of frogs he finds sometimes. He has yet to get a response.

The young campers are cool, and Tubbo likes being around them. But, unlike his adopted siblings and everything, he’s found that he doesn’t give off super friendly energies right off the bat. He doesn’t think he’s intimidating– maybe it’s his badly healed cheek scar or the macabre kind of humor he has, sometimes– but half the time, the kids don’t really talk to him. He’s genuinely not scary and half of the kids are literally taller than him, but, still.

It kind of sucks. It also kind of makes him feel like maybe he shouldn’t be here. But, eh. Tubbo doesn’t really mind. He can handle some twelve year olds finding him scary or whatever. That happens every year (except that guy, Michael, who came a few years back and let Tubbo teach him how to start a fire while talking about ducks. He was cool).

There’s just one other thing that’s new this year, something that kind of throws Tubbo off. In a social sense, anyway.

Namely, that there is another camper around this year near Tubbo’s age.

Which is already kind of surprising, because sure, he thinks it’s super sick for people to keep coming back to a place like this, but this isn’t someone he’s ever seen here before. Which begs the question, what seventeen year old is signing up for a camp like this just out of the blue?

Tubbo hasn’t spoken to him enough to figure out why, either. He knows a little bit about him– his name is Ranboo, he wears a lot of long-sleeved flannels for it to be mid-June, and he’s a pretty chill guy. Very quiet, sort of mutters to himself most of the time, and really polite, according to Puffy. He seems like a swell guy, Tubbo just knows nothing about him, which is surprising and strange.

Well. Whatever. Tubbo has two weeks left of camp, he’ll figure out more about him at some point. Tubbo’s good at getting information out of people.

For now, though? Woods time.

Tubbo darts through the woods, making sure not to get too far from camp but getting a decent way through it. The trees here are really big and, aside from the one he climbed at age fifteen and messed up his ankle on, are really sturdy. He imagines they must look really cool in fall, with all the leaves and everything, but he quite likes the green too. Scattered across the ground are some fallen birds nests and some mushrooms, and running around are squirrels and rabbits and, if he’s lucky, a few snakes. And if he’s really lucky, the camp’s trademarked fox shows up, which is pretty sick.

(The fox is named Essi, though. As in, a shortened form of Essempi, the town they’re in. Which is really fucking stupid. Tubbo calls him Drake.)

After having run the entire way from Puffy’s office to the woods, Tubbo leans against a tree to take a breather. As he does, arm thrown over his own heaving chest– he’s glad his binder is in the laundry, in hindsight, since this probably wouldn’t have been nearly as fun with it on– he looks around for good climbing trees. Can’t be betrayed by another fake bitch again. Songs always talk about the hard friendships of Hollywood, but they should really talk more about camping trips. Tubbo’s ankle against the world and stardom, seriously.

He ends up moving again, probably too soon, when he spots a tree. It’s kind of short, but that means it’s more balanced, and Tubbo doesn’t really want to climb too high today. He just kind of wants to sit and vibe, listen to music on the shitty iPod he still owns, and vibe with some squirrels ‘til sundown.

So, he starts the climb.

According to his adopted younger brother, Tommy, he’s really shit at climbing trees properly. His other brother, Wilbur, had agreed with that, but Tubbo beat both of them ten minutes later when they all raced to climb the top of the same tree, going in rounds. Phil timed them the first time, but after Tommy claimed the results were rigged, Phil called his other son, Techno, out of his room to deal with them. It was a fun day.

All that to say, maybe Tubbo’s tree climbing strategy is gripping on tight and repeatedly flinging himself over tree branches precariously until he stabilizes. But, it’s fast, and a little pain builds spirit, so… whatever.

Once he’s comfortably seated on the tree, stomach hurting a bit from the maneuver (wearing a thin t-shirt might have been a bad choice for this, but it’s hot as hell outside, so whatever), he pulls out his iPod. It has a green case, which Tubbo thinks is pretty cool, and though Tommy bullies him for it, he kind of likes just having an iPod and a flip phone. Not because he’s pretentious about the era of technology or anything. Technology is fucking cool. Tubbo’s also just splurged his money on a cool computer, which was a way better investment, so, whatever.

It’s while Tubbo’s fiddling with his iPod, trying to pull up his playlist called summer vibes, when he hears a rustling sound and a voice call out, “Hello?”

Which scares the shit out of him. And he almost falls out of the fucking tree.

He has to scramble to stabilize himself, then looks at the floor of the woods, eyebrows furrowed. He’s staring down at the blank forest ground for a few seconds before the person walks into his line of sight. It takes Tubbo a few seconds to place the dyed hair and purple flannel, but once he does, he lets out a relieved sigh.

“Ranboo, you scared the hell out of me.” Tubbo gives Ranboo a grin regardless. He’s not sure why Ranboo would be out here, but, eh, whatever. Company’s not too bad so long as it isn’t a ton of people. “What’s up, man?”

Ranboo gives a sort of sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. His other hand is clutching the notebook he takes with him everywhere. “Uh, sorry. I should have been… been probably more clear coming over and all that. Coming into? I’m not really coming over to the woods, so much as I’m, uh, walking over? Anyway, sorry, I, uh. I was talking to Captain Puffy about… stuff, and she said I should take a walk? She didn’t really specify where to go, though, so I’m here. I can go if you want?”

Tubbo shrugs. “You can stay, don’t worry about it. She usually doesn’t like people coming in here alone, but you’ve got me, and I’m very trustworthy. Say, do you know how to climb a tree?”

Tubbo would have figured Ranboo might, since he’s super tall and could probably do it with way less effort, but Ranboo shakes his head. “Uh, not… really? I live in the city.”

“Do they have no trees in the city?” Tubbo asks.

“I can’t, uh. I can’t exactly just walk up to any tree and climb it, y’know. Don’t they- don’t they have to be like, sort of strong for that, and everything?”

“Oh. Fairs.” He raises a good point. Tubbo lives in the suburbs and doesn’t really go downtown all that often, and the city he used to live in was very grey and depressing. So it’s not like he’d really know much. All trees are free real estate unless they’re traitorous bitches in his books. Anyway. “Do you wanna try?”

“Uh.” Ranboo looks very hesitant, but Tubbo doesn’t want to cut him off, since he’s noticed that Ranboo gets cut off a whole lot and usually never finishes his thought once he does, which really fucking sucks. Tubbo likes listening to him talk, but he’s also just really quiet by nature, from what he’s seen, so. “Maybe- well, if you want me to, I can, but I don’t really… I don’t really want to. I, uh. It seems kind of scary?”

“It’s really intimidating the first time,” Tubbo admits, “but after a bit you get sorta used to it? Like, kinda cool being bird’s eye view or whatever. But yeah, don’t come up if you don’t want to. Gimme a sec.”

“Sorry,” Ranboo apologizes again. Tubbo considers telling him there’s no need to apologize, but he knows that stuff sort of can get cyclic if someone’s real set on apologizing for something they have no need to apologize for– to be fair, Tubbo is guilty of that himself– so he just focuses on getting down from the tree.

It takes some effort, but he eventually gets down, giving Ranboo a smile before sitting down on the ground and patting the spot beside him. Ranboo hesitates, so Tubbo watches some ants crawl around before he eventually hears Ranboo sit down, a bit away from him. Still, he’s content with that, so.

There’s a silence between them, a pretty pleasant one with the sounds of the breeze and animals filling the air, but an awkward one nonetheless. Tubbo brushes his bangs out of his face and looks through the trees to the sun, which is starting to set. He usually doesn’t catch sunsets or sunrises, always busy doing something or the other, but being at the camp makes him want to stay up and catch each and every one. Seeing the way that the campground looks under the golden sun makes it a hard sight to want to miss.

After a minute or two, Ranboo clears his throat and says, quietly, “Captain Puffy told me that you’re here, uh, every year?”

“Yup!” Tubbo glances at Ranboo, then remembers that when he introduced himself back on the first day of camp, he made a self-deprecating comment about being bad with eye contact. With close proximity, avoiding eye contact is kind of hard, since Tubbo would probably just have to stare at Ranboo’s eyebrow– or lack thereof, they’re shaved for whatever reason– so Tubbo just looks forward. Conflict avoided. “Ever since I moved here when I was ten. Really cool camp, shame you came in your last year.”

“Yeah,” Ranboo agrees. “I, uh, did a lot of theatre camps and stuff. Those were pretty cool, but I never really had a chance to do this one. Kinda needed to wait til I could, uh, drive the two hours here, so-”

“Holy shit, two hours?” Tubbo breaks his self-promise and looks at the other incredulously. Or, at the collar of his flannel incredulously. Shit, man, talking to people is hard as hell. “Where do you live?”

Ranboo pauses, tapping his fingers on his notebook before explaining, “Uh, I’m from Stronghold? That area. I live in, uh, Ender though.”

Tubbo squints. That is pretty far from here, but Tubbo’s never been. “Is that the place with the mines?”

“Used to be. Now it’s, uh, a city. New city and everything, I only moved a few years ago. When I was, uh, fifteen.”

“Oh, that’s the same year I broke my ankle!” Tubbo tells him excitedly.

Ranboo blinks. “Oh. Okay.”

“Why’d you come then?” The camp is pretty cool, but not really worth the two hour drive.

“My, uh. My… sister,” Ranboo starts, sounding very uncertain in himself. “She’s, uh. She knows Captain Puffy, so… yeah. I came because of that. The two of them have, uh, they’re… they’re engaged, so.”

“Oh, that’s cool as hell,” Tubbo replies. “When are they getting married?”

“Uh. I think… I think in fall, or something. Or, no, it’s, uh. It’s the last week of August, because I have to move into college the day before, so I might… might miss it, yeah.” Ranboo’s voice slowly gets quieter as he trails off, but Tubbo still listens, because he has good things to say if he just feels confident enough to say them. His voice does get louder when he clarifies, “I am going to come, though! I’m not- I’m not a jerk or anything, I’ll go, I just, uh, yeah.”

That story doesn’t really make sense with a lot of what Ranboo told him in terms of coming to the camp and everything, but to be fair, there are probably some other factors to the equation and it’s not on Tubbo to question that. He switches topics to something that’s a little easier to answer. “So you’re good friends with Puffy, yeah?”

“Oh, we, uh…” Ranboo picks at his nail idly as he talks. He has chipped purple nail polish on. It must be his favorite color or something. Good pick. “This is the first time we’ve talked, actually.”

Oh.

Well. That doesn’t make any sense. But. Whatever. Tubbo’s brother Wilbur’s pretty cryptic, so to an extent, he’s kind of used to this gig. Still. Kind of weird.

“Fairs,” Tubbo says, despite that. “She’s cool. Knows my siblings and stuff. Actually- say, you did theatre camps, right? Did you ever meet some guys named, uh, Tommy or Wilbur?”

Ranboo looks anxious, eyes glancing down at his notebook before replying, “I don’t, uh, I don’t remember.”

Fair enough. Well- wait. “Oh, I’m fucking stupid.” Tubbo sighs. “Why did I list the two with really fucking normal names? What about Techno, do you know a Techno?”

After another pause where it seems like Ranboo’s trying to recollect something, his body straightens and he says, “Yes, actually! Yeah, I- I remember Techno. Uh, if that was- if that was Techno, then- would the other guys have been, uh. Wilbur and Tommy, you said?”

Tubbo nods. “Yup! Wilbur would have hung out with him a lot, and Tommy clings to Wilbur, so that’s them.”

Ranboo smiles, which Tubbo can only see in his periphery. “How do you know them?”

“They’re my adopted brothers,” Tubbo explains. “Their dad, Phil, took me in like, seven years ago? Tommy came here once, actually, but he was always into theatre and shit. Or just chilling with his friends in the summer. And Wilbur doesn’t like the outdoors much, makes him nervous. So.”

Maybe Tubbo shouldn’t be giving Ranboo all this information, considering that Ranboo is kind of suspicious. He really knows very little about the guy, and everything he knows is sort of strange. But, Ranboo’s also really nice. And if Puffy trusted him enough to walk out here on his own, then maybe Tubbo should cut him some slack.

And also, Tubbo… kind of likes hanging with people he doesn’t immediately get. It’s fun to puzzle people out, albeit a little tiring when it gets to be adults, which might be a weird thing to say, but according to Tommy, if it gets Tubbo out there socializing with people then it’s a good thing.

Tommy really makes Tubbo sound like a social recluse. But, considering he ventured off into the woods alone, that’s… probably fair. Tubbo just won’t tell him this anecdote.

“That’s cool,” Ranboo replies, still smiling a little. “I, uh, I remember that Tommy was really… loud? Uh. At the theatre camp. So was Wilbur, sort of. Techno and I, uh, talked a bit, he was… he was a lot quieter. So was I. And, uh, I think Wilbur got the lead?”

“Sounds about right,” Tubbo responds. “And yeah, Tommy kind of yells at everyone. He doesn’t really get the idea of whispering.”

“Yeah, it was- it was kind of hard trying to be backstage with him.”

Tubbo snorts. “I can imagine.”

Tubbo looks away from the eyelash on Ranboo’s cheek when he notices the area around him getting darker. He glances at the sun and sees it’s almost down, and he immediately springs up. “Shit, Puffy's gonna kill me,” he mutters, before offering Ranboo a hand to get up. He accepts it, and Tubbo accidentally catches his eye. Ranboo doesn’t look away immediately, though, which Tubbo takes as a good sign to hold the gaze.

Which he does for maybe a bit too long. To be fair, Ranboo has really cool eyes. They’re heterochromatic, one hazel and the other green, but it’s a really bright green. It’s kind of crazy, but Tubbo likes it.

“Say,” Tubbo chances, because he doesn’t really want this talk to end here, “Assuming Puffy doesn't kill me when we get back. Want to sit with me at the campfire tonight?”

Ranboo gives Tubbo a smile, glancing at the ground before saying, “Okay.”

(Later, after Captain Puffy chastises Tubbo unfairly and puts him and Ranboo on campfire-building duty, the two of them chat amongst themselves while eating their s’mores. And, when it gets really late and everyone filters out, Tubbo finds himself sticking around until Ranboo finishes writing what he puts in that book of his, looking at the smile across his face.

And, for the first time since coming to this camp seven years ago, Tubbo thinks that he might have a friend here with him.)

#nightmare.requests #c!tubbo fanfiction #tubbo fanfiction #c!beeduo fanfiction #dreamsmp fanfiction #sorry this took so long anon i hope the length is worth it!#reblogs help the writer :D

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