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thejudgingtrash · 3 years

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Can you explain to me how Rachel was annoying in the series?

Well, I’ll try to keep myself short for this one (lol no, this took an hour to write). Also, let’s not forget that they’re all kids, but I’m basing this off from when I read the series as a fourteen year old because my opinions haven’t changed much (for better or for worse).

I’m not the biggest fan of Rachel. I have to admit that portrayals of her by Simi, Kit, Logan, Apollo and all the others helped to shape her into something cooler than what she had been in my foggy memories but I actually went back to take a look in the books (well, TTC + BOTL so far) to refreshen my mind about events that have happened.

Also, you should browse through @blackjacktheboss's blog as she’s a) hilarious and b) says whatever I say in like a single sentence lol. But your ask is about me and my opinions so here we go:

What I didn’t like about Rachel was that she’s rude and bold (DON’T GET ME WRONG, I love that in female characters!!!), but she doesn’t have Annabeth’s excuse of survival of the fittest (literally running off as a traumatized seven year old) and introducing us into the world of the Riordanverse.

Percy was on his way, had shit to deal with and Rachel pretty much interrupted him from the get-go and thought getting her answers was more important than letting Percy just rush forward. Yes, this is Rachel’s entrance into the series and the net Riordan threw into the sea, to make us little fish adapt to her. But it still didn’t sit right with me, probably because I would never interact that way.

I get why she did that, but it’s the way how she did it that’s just making me go ???

Even if I was seeing weird things, I wouldn’t set out to distract/interrupt someone who is incredibly busy to get my way. Rachel’s dick move seems like a Karen boomer type of thing to pull off, but guess that’s up to you.

If I were her, I’d either film/try to photograph the monsters via phone (if that’s possible) or internet stalk enough to find the other person (note: despite Riordan’s stupid rule of not being able to use phones, demigods still can use computers/the internet, I guess). Percy was national news like a year or two ago in the timeline, so it shouldn’t be that difficult to find more stuff out about him, even in like 2008 or so. Let him have a spot on Perez Hilton's shitty gossip blog, for the OGs reading this.

Annabeth was used as a tool of exposition to introduce us to CHB, the demigod life and how things roll around there. She barged into Percy’s mission as a nuisance first but a necessity second in TLT.

However, in comparison to Rachel, Annabeth was transformed into a fully-fledged protagonist within a span of a chapter or two. Rachel needed another separate book after her first appearance, so we don’t just know Annabeth better, we know that she’s an important constant throughout the story as of Rachel seems… almost random? Is she truly necessary as a character?

This doesn’t come from a shipper perspective, this is coming from a character design perspective and adds to the feeling that the way she has been introduced to me as a reader just seems off.

Yes, BOTL makes sense with her as a reborn Ariadne, but technically Sally could’ve done the job as she’s a clear-sighted mortal as well lol. Then again, Sally is an adult, went to college, had a job, was unfortunately probably working it up with Paul, did the cha cha slide with him and had overall better shit to do.

Then Rachel as the oracle, which is just super weird in general. Wasn’t Apollo himself responsible for issuing prophecies in the OG myths? Or did he both, have the oracle of Delphi as his spokesperson and issue important stuff to Team Olympus? Am I mixing things up? I’m getting sidetracked, my bad.

Either way, this oracle gig might be the only time I’d say Rachel might be important in the future (badum tzz), but Riordan fumbled the bag in the follow ups series so there’s that. Did she even appear in HOO? Can’t remember and also don’t care.

Rachel is used as one out of three choices in regard to his love life that Percy can make. Calypso literally got introduced into BOTL and was admittedly Percy’s biggest what if… But the general gist doesn’t sit right with me. We have three possible routes with Percy and the others:

Rachel: somewhat normality in the mortal realm

Annabeth: the danger and thrill of the demigod life

Calypso: ambrosia and nectar. a hint of immortality

(On one hand, literally why but on the other hand, mad props for Percy who has literally three romantic leads in the same book.) I’d cancel one of them at least out and since Annabeth isn’t going anywhere, I’m taking Rachel. Sally could literally been Percy’s anchor to a normal mortal life as she had intended until it didn’t work out anymore when he became twelve and his monster alerting scent grew stronger.

Calypso and Annabeth would’ve been the perfect opposites where each of them had a strong case. The demigod life within the realms or mortal or the demigod life ascending to Olympus/immortality. Sounds cooler and is way simpler. Three people is way too much, this truly feels like a shonen anime harem thing and it’s defo not my cup of tea (and while some Annabeth sideships aren’t my thing (Lukabeth go cry in the corner, no one likes you, WTF, Connabeth you fugly), it’s super unfair that Annabeth solely has Percy (fuck off Luke) to rely on in regards of romantic endeavors).

Rachel almost feels redundant? The option to walk away from all of that… which isn’t really true as Rachel really tries to push and insert herself into the story the very first time we meet her? But that’s just me, I’m certain that others are saying they’d kill off Annabeth or kick Calypso (I mean yeah) into the curb.

Big ALSO:

Why does Percy need another white and uber-rich love interest?

I semi-joked on Dez’ post (@sawasawako) with this response about Annabeth needing to keep up with powerful Rachel, but the core still stands.

We already have an affluent Annabeth (granted, we don’t know exactly how the Chase’s riches are divided, whereas it’s clear that Rachel can just make anyone drop dead by saying who she is. Annabeth needed that weird lotus casino credit card to make that happen, so Miss Harvard Legacy doesn’t wield that Dare schmoney. Also don’t think Annabeth can just up papa’s money and go…? Idk).

Why do we need another person needing to upstage this?

Like Rachel has to triumph in regards to standard and prestige as if it were a badly written Jane Austen AU. For what reason…? Why not make Percy friends and acquaintances with someone who comes from a normal household for once, not super rich brats (Piper, Annabeth, Rachel, technically the Graces with their TV starlet mother amongst others).

Moreover…

Important question: why should Percy actually be impressed/attracted to that? He’s dirt poor and has been sent to (boarding) schools filled with stupid rich people since he’s been twelve, probably even younger than that. As if that’s the very first thing Percy would look out for or be wowed or something. He’s used to rich douchebags. I think he’s more surprised that someone used their money for his benefit for once and not to crash daddy’s new Mercedes again.

Like seriously… Rachel did that weird art project thing in BOTL with her covered in gold and posing like it’s a super normal thing to do? Even for rich snobbish kids standards? That sounds weird to me. I don’t know, maybe Riordan’s been streaming the new Gossip Girl reboot on HBO Max on repeat and thought this girl is on fiyah (performed by Alicia Keys).

Rachel trying to separate herself from her money just comes off as super hypocritical when she’s using the very same funds to finance her lifestyle. I get it, trying to make amends and make a difference with the damage you have done but... your father still doesn't give a shit about the environment or YOU, sweetie. Kick him in the balls for once! Then you can go out about your art projects.

The concept of Percy having friends in the mortal realm is cool, but why does Rachel almost have to compete with Annabeth with her wealth and art stuff?

No seriously, the comparisons are constantly there, out and about. Roaming freely on the finest grass, needing to be feed delicious locally sourced carrots and stuff.

Annabeth is Athena’s kid. Athena is the goddess of wisdom, weaving, justice, warfare yada yada and arts and crafts. So definitely something which would affect Rachel, right (someone write that Athena messing with Rachel because she can AU and tag me please!)?

Annabeth wants to become an architect which translates to fancy building designer who is driving engineers like Leonardo Eugenio Valdez Cortes insane irl because the maths and physics don't work like that in the working field trust me I'm an engineer, which could/should be considered an art form.

They even shared some common ground while talking about architecture and design in BOTL!

Furthermore, they both share broken homes with absent parents (granted that all demigods go through that). Wealthy families at that as well. Shitty fathers that don’t care about their daughters well-being. Rachel however, is super powerful and influential in an unseen level in the mortal world. She isn’t like Matt Sloan (?) who truly messes up by destroying shit to get his father's attention, but she’s still in that circle and can easily demonstrate that. Making deals with her father and what not. We rarely see Annabeth doing that. Did y’all forget the fucking helicopter Rachel brought along in TLO?

Pan saying Rachel is just as important as her father has multiple meanings to me…

(Sidenote: I do think it’s hilarious that Annabeth is jealous/annoyed of Rachel that her remarks were she’s cute right and Percy went??? Or when Tyson said Rachel’s pretty? Or that time when Annabeth actually defended Luke and his weird behavior (because Kronos was slowly taking over, don’t forget that kids!), because f that rich artist nepotism kid that Rachel seems to be, right?)

Another note: Percy thinks Rachel is annoying in BOTL for a while and it took a while for him to admit that and he spent way more time being annoyed/jealous (for once, Lordy) at Luke for him to even notice lol.

I guess it’s really hard for me to exactly pinpoint what’s bothering me. I believe Rachel's persona just doesn’t seem to hit right, because it feels like a knock-off Annabeth who just simply isn’t a demigod, yet has two cool powers, but in even richer who still needs to be part of the story for exactly what reason?

The jumping around from the richest in the series to the poorest in the series is kinda bothering me as if the middle class doesn’t exist, like I’ve stated earlier. Why didn’t Riordan mix it up with Rachel, giving her more nuance the minute they met, not towards the end? Have her be Percy’s platonic friend from the get go. No weird oh wait she is kinda cute in the middle bullshit.

This kinda drifted more into a Perachel vs Percabeth essay, which really wasn’t my intention. Don’t worry kids, I’m criticizing Annabeth (and her stans) enough already.

And I do think that others in the fandom have softened my views on Rachel as a person like I’ve stated in the beginning. So friendship!Perachel is popping! But I do think that there are some valid points that I’ve made.

Also not gonna lie, Rachel issuing the new prophecy in TLO kinda dampened the end of PJO series but that’s more Riordan’s fault than hers.

TLDR: I’m just not a huge fan of this overbearing, uber-rich, excessively flaunting being that Rachel sometimes displays. She’s flawed, she’s broken at times, has a semi-interesting background story (although it has been done over and over again throughout the series and should be changed up for once) which is great, but it is still annoying.

We don’t need an anti-Annabeth who feels like a weird caricature of the real Annabeth.

Also if this seems super incoherent, repetitive, or whatever, I'm sorry, massive headaches + mental health going down the goo lagoon does this to ya, I hope I made somewhat sense!

#Mel answers #pjo #percy jackson #rachel elizabeth dare #rachel dare #Annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo Meta #percy jackson and the olympians #pjato #ttc #botl #tlo

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tooruluv · 4 years

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Tooru Oikawa x F!Reader ( part 4 )

❝ my love for him is much like winter, a skeleton for the world to see. too bad he never liked the cold. ❞

description: being the neighbor and lifelong best friend of tooru oikawa definitely had it’s perks. you were never an outcast, always had a seat at lunch, got into volleyball games for free. the problem was, however, that being in love with him outweighed those perks. you would never tell him that, though, even if it hurt like hell.

genre: best friends to lovers, angst, unrequited love, fluff if you squint hard enough

word count: 2,320

warnings/notes: i’m posting this early because i’m so busy this weekend! hope you enjoy!

tag list: @afuckingunicornn @maii-flowers @clandestinerays @brownandchill @readeretal

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You wanted to hate Sana. You wanted to resent her, wanted her to be a bitch. But she wasn’t. She was beautiful, and kind, and she just wanted to date Tooru Oikawa. Who were you to blame her for that?

“What is your skincare routine?” Sana asked. She pulled you closer, eyeing you as if she could see into your soul. “You have to tell me what you do with your skin.”

“Only if you tell me what hair products you use.” You told her before thinking. Sana also happened to be very easy to talk to.

She turned to Oikawa, smiling with her hand wrapped around yours. “I’ll see you later, babe, but right now I’m going to get some incredible insight. I might steal her from you.”

Oikawa just stood there. You had never seen him more confused in your entire life. He looked out of place. Like he wasn’t expecting things to happen the way they were. “Go for it.” He said. Stoic.

Sana basically dragged you away, arm in arm. She was taller than you, so you had to put in effort to keep up (something you happened to be very good, all your friends were giants). The two of you spoke nonsense about skin and hair and some other things you couldn’t remember.

“You know, I was scared to meet you.” She told you as you stopped in front of her locker. You gaped. “I know, I know. I just didn’t want you to blame Tooru for not telling you about us. I asked him not to.”

“Can I ask why?”

She giggled. It was soft. “I wanted you to like me.” She pulled out a book and shoved it into her bag. “I needed the soulmate stamp of approval.”

“..Soulmate?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sana turned to you. Her hair flipped over her shoulder as she did, her bangs never leaving the perfect place across her forehead. “You guys are literally inseparable. You and Tooru. A lot of us joke about how the universe put you guys together, platonic soulmates.”

Platonic soulmates, she said.

“I couldn’t possibly let myself be with him if you didn’t like me.” Sana continued, not really gauging how you were responding. “That’s why he hasn’t really talked to you. I’m so sorry for that, I shouldn’t have told him to keep his distance.”

“I guess I just thought he was mad at me.” You told her. Again without thinking. “We’ve never gone this long without talking, ever. And he was…” you paused. “He asked me for his jersey back and I didn’t really..”

“He asked you for his jersey back?” Sana slammed her locker shut. “I swear I’m going to kill him.”

She mumbled something about how he doesn’t listen. You stood beside her, hands at your sides.

“I literally told him not to do that.” She told you. “He offered me the jersey, and I told him that it was not my place as his girlfriend of a god damn week to take a jersey you’ve worn for years. He’s an idiot. Keep it, I’m serious.”

You didn’t know what to say.

You wanted to hate her, you really did. You tried to find a flaw, something to stick to, but nothing came up. God how you wanted her to be a bitch.

“You don’t hang out with girls often, do you?” She asked. You were walking to class now, her arm linked with yours as her bag hung over her other shoulder.

“I only hang out with ‘Kawa and the boys.” You shrugged.

“Well consider me your official girl best friend. Starting now.” Sana stopped, gasping as though she came to a sudden realization. “Oh my god! We should go to the mall together this weekend!”

You shifted your backpack on your shoulders. “I.. I don’t think..”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be super fun.” She continued, her face lighting up. “We can even have a sleepover after! Please!”

“I’ll have to talk to my parents… I..” You gave up trying to make her the Bad Guy. “Yeah. That sounds fun. We can stay at mine, if you don’t care.”

Sana sent you the brightest smile. “I can’t wait. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Your arms were unlinked, you heading down a different hallway to your class. “Oh, and Sana?”

“Yes?”

“You have the soulmate stamp of approval.” You turned around before you could see her response.

“You’re not mad at him?” Iwaizumi asked you. “How are you not livid right now?”

“I am mad.” You twisted a pencil in your hand. “But I’m more mad at him for completely ignoring me than having a girlfriend.”

“If I were you I would beat the shit out of him.” Matsukawa spoke up from beside you. He gasped. “Oh my god, I can beat his ass for you. Do you want me to?”

You chuckled. “I’m flattered, but no. Not worth your time or energy.”

The three of you were in the library during lunch, again. You know you should go back to the cafeteria, find a new spot at the lunch table (your previous spot next to Oikawa, in between him and Iwa at the circle tables). But the three of you liked to have a break and just hang out and talk shit at lunch. It became a thing between you and Iwaizumi, but you were happy to have Matsukawa join.

“Speaking of me being pissed off,” you changed the topic. “I’m pissed off that I’m the only one who knows about you two? Um, hello? When will you guys just say you’re dating and get it over with?”

“Hanamaki knows, though his suspicions are unconfirmed.” Matsukawa said.

They were official, you knew. The two of them never told you “hey we’re dating!” or anything like that, but you knew. The same way Iwaizumi knew you were (are) in love with Oikawa. And, it doesn’t held that both of them call each other nicknames and have each other as “bf” with about three trillion hearts in their phones.

“We’re going to wait.” Iwaizumi said. He wasn’t uncomfortable. “I have to tell my parents first. Then we can tell everyone.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry Iwa I didn’t even think…”

“Seriously, don’t apologize.” He smiled at you. “You just want us to be happy. And right now, we are with what we have.”

Matsu put his arm around your shoulder from beside you. You were happy for them, too. Though the same couldn’t be said the same about your love life.

Tooru Oikawa invented a game when the two of you were kids. It was a stupid game, and you were pretty sure it was just a game he found while playing with other kids, but it was so fun to you.

You would invite kids over, including Iwaizumi, and would play it all the time in your backyard. The game was simple. Someone was the Catcher, and whoever was Catcher had to stand with their back to the players as the players stood against your house. The Catcher would then shout out a color, and if a player was wearing that color, they would have to run to Oikawa’s house (and touch it) before the Catcher caught them. Oikawa called it “Rainbow”.

One day while playing, Oikawa caught you while you were sprinting. He snatched you by the waist and basically bear hugged you. Everyone was a giggling mess, as kids are.

“Got you!” Kid Oikawa exclaimed. “Got you, got you! You’re it!”

Sometimes, you wished you had the ability to see when you grew up.

Sana ended up becoming a pretty decent acquaintance, despite only knowing her for a day. She was very nice, and extremely fun to talk to. Sana just wanted a girl friend; and after talking to her, maybe that’s what you wanted too.

You were walking in the hallway with her, arms linked as Sana preferred, talking nonsense about classes and the game that night. It was the beginning of the day, so the halls were filled with people who weren’t in class still.

“Are we still on for tonight and tomorrow?” she asked you.

“Yeah. If you’re cool with staying at my house, I think my parents were excited to hear me bring a friend whos a girl over.” You said.

“Oh my god, yes. That sounds perfect!” She nudged you with her arm.

“Okay.” You thought for a second. “If you like to drink, we can get some bottles or wine coolers or something before going home. I know a place.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard.”

You stopped in front of your class and she unlinked your arms. “I’m not kidding when I tell you that I’m excited. I’ve told you before that I was nervous about meeting you when I started dating Tooru, but you’re so cool. Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me?” you laughed. “For what?”

“For being the coolest friend to Oikawa.” A bell. “I got to go to class, if I get another tardy my parents will have my head. But I’ll see you at the game! Wear the jersey!”

She sent you a wink before heading to class.

“Thank you!” you called, and she turned around. “For being the coolest girlfriend to Oikawa.”

After school, Iwaizumi came over. They had a bit of time before the game, so most of the guys like to come home to eat a little bit or hype themselves up.

Like most days, you were sprawled out on your floor as he sat up against some random object in your room. That day, it was your dresser. He was exhausted, and you could tell.

“Iwa, can we be serious for a minute?” you asked.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” he said, and you sat up. “You’re in love with him. You’ve been in love with him for years. How did you know?”

Your eyes flickered between his. “What do you mean? I thought you already asked this before.”

“No, no.” he was nervous to ask you. “No, how did you know that you were in love with him? Like what does that feel like?”

You couldn’t hold back a gasp and a smile. “Oh my God! Hajime Iwaizumi, you’re in love!”

“No..”

“Yes you are!”

The teasing went on like that for a while. It went on and on, the both of you giggling and bickering about teenage love. You didn’t remember exactly how it ended up like this, your head resting on his lap and Iwaizumi’s hand in your hair. You felt your friendship with him, in that moment.

“I think I am, in love with Matsu I mean.”

“I think you are too.” You spoke. “I see the way you two are with each other. The glances and feeling. He definitely loves you too.”

“We’ve been together way longer than when you found us in the closet.”

“I know.”

“Are you still in love with him?’

A pause. “Yeah.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“’Kawa may be the stupidest person I know.”

“…but..?”

“No but. He’s just the stupidest person I know.”

A chorus of laughter. You didn’t even hear yourself, didn’t hear Iwa. You missed this.

You also didn’t hear Oikawa come in, and didn’t notice him standing at your doorway.

“Right.” Oikawa said, bringing a silence to the room. He just turned and left.

You stared at the now-empty doorway. You didn’t remember when you sat up.

“Go.” Iwaizumi pushed you at your waist. “Go get him.”

Without thinking, you rushed out of your room and down the stairs. You finally caught up to him outside, in the middle of your houses.

“Are you ever going to talk to me?” You called. You were angry, upset.

Oikawa’s back was toward you. He wasn’t walking, but you didn’t get any closer. It was like talking to a fucking brick wall.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He said simply.

“We almost kissed, ‘Kawa.” You said. Your hands were in fists at your sides, shaking. “We almost kissed. And you haven’t talked to me, haven’t even looked at me since. You don’t get to be mad at me. You don’t get to be mad I’m hanging out with Iwa when you haven’t talked to him either. And you can’t hide behind Sana asking you to not tell me about you two, not anymore. Please just talk to me.”

“Like I said.” He still had his back toward you. “Nothing to talk about.”

With that, he walked back to his house. You stayed on the sidewalk until you felt Iwaizumi pull you back to reality.

You were pretty sure that anger took over every emotion that night. As you sat at the game, in that stupid fucking jersey you put on as routine, you stared daggers at the floor from the bleachers. You weren’t even in the student section.

You were slouched in the bleacher, arms crossed, when you felt a body sit next to you.

“You seem far too pissed off to be watching a volleyball game.” The boy told you. “A game you’re winning.”

You stole a glance, not leaving your slouched position between the bleachers. He was cute, dark hair and definitely tall (though it could just be because you were sitting). He wasn’t even looking at you, so you turned your eyes back to the court.

He offered you an already open bag of chips, holding them in front of you.

“You don’t go here.” You ignored his offering.

“You’re not wrong.” He looked at you. “I’m here from another school. Trying to see what some friends of mine are up against.” You finally looked up at him. “What’s your name?”

You deadpanned. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

“Second the best, first the worst. I win.” You said. “What’s your name?”

The boy set his bag of chips down and held out his hand. “I’m Kuroo, Tetsurou Kuroo.”

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mlovesstories · 4 years

Text

His Thoughts on Therapy Part 1

Summary: Dean is forced to go to therapy. He doesn’t want to, but he ends up meeting a friend.

Warnings: Dean being emotional because of the fire, therapy, car issues, cussing

Words: 2600

Dean x reader!platonic

Sam x reader!platonic

Dean x therapist!Dr. Sky

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Go.” Sam growled. “Or I’ll take you there myself!”

Dean has made a bet of sorts with Sam. If his drinking became more frequent, Sam was going to be in charge of buying the beer and Dean would have to go to a therapist. They had experienced a lot, and they both knew that. Sam could see Dean fading, so he laid down the law, and Dean was not cooperating.

“I’ll pour all the beer down the drain right now if you don’t go to your appointment. It’s in twenty minutes.” He was toward the fridge.

“OKAY!” Dean stood up quickly and grabbed his keys. “Don’t touch what beer I have left.” He groaned.

“Bye!” Sam sighed, happy he won the argument.

Dean went to his therapist for a few sessions. He was very saddened when he saw that she was older than him and not his type. Dean did not want to be there, and it showed. He liked her, but he was not the ‘spill his guts’ type of person. His therapist made an off comment about her mom passing, and Dean’s heart dropped.

“My mom is gone too,” he said sadly.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Dean.” She frowned.

“Yeah, it was a while ago. It’s fine.”

“You’re really good at not really dealing with anything, are you?” The doctor said seriously.

“What gave it away? My sarcasm, deflection, or self-preservation?” He grinned. “Look, doc,” Dean sighed. “My mom died when I was four. My dad told me to get Sam, so I got my brother out before the fire engulfed the stairs. Dad was fine, but my mom didn’t come out of the house with him.”

“Wow,” the doctor said, almost judgingly.

“What? My story not good enough for you? I got more if you-” Dean raised his voice in defense.

“No, Dean,” she put a hand up asking him to calm down. “What I meant was that just from that one story you’ve told me, it tells me a lot about you.”

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“Like what?”

“You grew up a lot that night. I’d put my money on you as the protector and preserver of the family. You probably blame your dad for your mom’s death in a way.”

“Woah, my dad-”

“I’m sorry. That was very forward of me.” She frowned again.

“I was in charge of Sammy, and he was supposed to get Mom. He didn’t. End of story.”

“Mhmm.” Doctor Sky eyed him.

“Okay, I’m done,” Dean stood and put the pillows back where they were placed at the beginning of the session. “I’m done with you psychoanalyzing me.” He stormed out. She didn’t chase after him. The oldest Winchester walked down the steps to the parking lot. Sitting in the Impala, Dean froze, not understanding his emotions. All of a sudden, he realized he had hiccups.

Why am I crying? I don’t cry!

But there was nothing he could do to stop it. Dean covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

YN was late for her appointment. She quickly walked from her car and ran up the stairs to the door she needed to enter. An hour later, she noticed a car in the same spot that it was in when she had arrived. Dean sat blankly in Baby, not seeing YN approaching. She saw tear stains on his face and his eyes puffy.

“Here,” she said, her hand extended with tissues, offering them to him. Dean jumped. “Sorry. Thought you could use them is all. Have a good day.” YN walked toward her car when he heard him call for her. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Dean was surprised by the interaction. No questions about why he was acting the way he was. He appreciated it since he was, once again, not a ‘spill-the beans’ type of a person.

The next time he saw his therapist, he apologized for his actions. Dean himself was surprised he even went back, but he knew he needed to or Sam would not buy him any drinks.

“Let’s talk about something else today. Other than your mom, how was it growing up? Are you and your little brother still close?”

“Sammy and I live together. He’s a lawyer, I’m a mechanic. I can’t afford a house, so he lets me rent a room. He’s taller, but I’m cooler,” Dean laughed, and so did the doctor. “Growing up, my dad was gone a lot. He had to run the shop pretty much by himself. I had to take care of Sammy.”

“You’re still very connected with him, that’s very nice to hear. A lot of clients don’t have healthy family relationships if I’m being honest.”

“We’re all we got, I guess.”

“Do you get along with your father? Does he still run the shop?”

Dean winced.

“Am I missing something?” She asked, sincere.

“He passed away a few years ago. A car was on the lift, one of the arms broke. He pushed me out of the way. He didn’t make it.”

“Wow, Dean. That’s a lot.”

“Yeah. My brother has dealt with it better than I have. He exercises regularly, I... “ he stopped himself. “I don’t make healthy choices.” Dean laughed. “I drink sometimes. Sammy said if I continued, I needed to see a therapist. So, here I am.” Dean looked up from his fingers nervously running over a couch pillow placed on his lap.

“Good for you.”

“Huh?” He was confused.

“For seeking help. You’ve been through a lot, Dean. I have something I want you to try. Can you draw?”

“I used to draw my own comics as a kid.”

“Perfect. Here,” his therapist reached in her drawer and pulled out a sketch pad. “Use this. In two weeks, I want you have completed a scenario from your own life where you were hurt. But remember that you’re the comic book hero in this.”

Dean’s face dropped.

“If you want me to read it, I will. If not, that’s okay too.”

Dean relaxed.

“Okay,” he followed her lead as she stood and led him to the door.

“Great. You did wonderful today, and I’m so happy to have you as a client, Dean. Have a wonderful day.”

Dean passed someone on the steps as he walked down to his car. He heard sniffles. Dean turned and found the girl he had seen previously.

“Hey, tissues.” he smirked at his nickname for her. She startled and looked at him. “You okay, kid?” He saw bruises on her arm. When she realized they were noticeable, she adjusted her sleeve.

“Yeah, just got robbed. I’m okay,” she shrugged, trying to keep the tears away.

“Shit, kid. Let me see,” Dean walked toward her, but she recoiled. Forgetting how large he was compared to her, he didn’t realize how he came across. He put his hands up. “Just trying to repay the favor from the other day. Promise I’m not here to hurt you.” Dean slowly sat down on the steps next to her. He was surprised at her openness and trust level. YN pulled her sleeves up to her elbows. She had a few scrapes, but she looked to be okay. “Looks like you need some tissues this time,” Dean grinned. She smiled. “I’m Dean.”

“YN.”

“Are you here with your parents or someone who can help you?”

“I don’t have anybody in this town. Going to college here for the first semester.”

“Eighteen?”

“Twenty. Transferred from a junior college.” She looked at her phone. “Shit. I”m late for my session. Thanks, Dean. See you around.”

“Bye, Tissues.” Dean grinned.

“Whatever, asshole,” she retorted, returning his expression.

Dean kept thinking about his interactions with YN. He felt bad for her that she was so young and on her own. Obviously smart and cared for her mental health, but he somehow felt protective of her.

“Kid?” Dean saw her in the grocery store. She turned.

“Hi Dean. How are you?”

“I’m good. Uh. This is my brother, Sam.”

“Hi,” Sam extended his hand and shook hers.

“Damn, they make you guys big.” YN giggled. “You from Texas or something?”

“Nah, right here,” Dean laughed. “Hey, you doing better today?” He leaned in closer so that others wouldn’t hear.

“Much, thanks.”

“Here, take my number, and you can call us if you need anything.” He ripped off part of his grocery list and wrote his cell phone number on it.

“Are you sure?” YN gasped at his sweetness.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I need to go, but thanks, boys. I appreciate it, really.”

“Not a problem,” Sam said. “I’m hungry, let’s go, dude.”

“So what was that about? You don’t just hand your number out to people these days.” Sam looked up at his brother that evening at dinner.

“Nothing. She’s a kid and she needs help sometimes just like we all do. She told me outside the therapy office that she doesn’t have anyone here because she’s going to KU, not from here. YN is down on her luck, that’s all.”

“You’re not asking her-”

“Eww! No. Gross.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam leaned back. “Just trying to understand.

“She was black and blue the other day, Sammy. You would have done the same thing.”

“Whatever, dude.”

A few days later, Dean heard his phone go off in the middle of the night.

“What?” He groaned, sleepy.

“Dean, it’s YN… from therapy.”

His eyes widened and his senses were alert.

“What’s wrong?” Dean immediately sat up in bed, concerned.

“I got stuck in the road. I heard you were a mechanic? Do you happen to have a tow truck? My starter is shot because of the storm and mud or whatever. I’ll pay you for it, but can you help me?”

Dean heard the waver in her voice.

“Where are you?”

She told him the cross streets, and he told her he would be there in fifteen minutes.

“You’re on the side of the road, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Stay in your car, you don’t need to be stranded AND wet from the storm. You’ll be okay. I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

When she saw a large truck getting closer, she flashed her head lights and tail lights at him. Dean pulled in front of her car. Getting out, he motioned for her to get into his vehicle.

“The heat is on, stay warm! There are blankets in the back. I’m going to put your front tires on the back of my truck and then we can go. Just give me a few!” Dean shouted over the rain pouring.

“Okay!” YN ran to get into the warm vehicle. She looked over her shoulder and saw flannel blankets on the floorboard.

Ten minutes later, Dean came inside. Soaked from the storm, he tried to warm up by putting his sleeves next to the vents.

“Here,” YN grabbed an extra blanket. She motioned for him to lean his head toward her. YN ran the blanket through his hair to get the excess water off. “Take your shirt off, it’s sopping wet.”

“I’m okay.” He smiled, thanking her for thinking of him.

“You’ll catch a cold, it’s fine.” She waited until he complied. “Wrap this around you,” YN offered him the blanket.

“Thanks,” he sighed. “Let’s get you home.”

After agreeing that he would take her car to the shop in the morning, he told her good night.

“Tissues!” He yelled through the noise of the storm. She turned. “I’ll give you an update tomorrow. Don’t worry about it, okay? Go dry off!”

“Okay!” YN hurried into her apartment before stripping off her clothes and blow drying her hair. Retrieving her pajamas from the dryer, she settled in for the night.

Thank God for that Winchester guy.

“Hi Dean,” YN answered the phone the next evening.

“Hey Tissues! Your car is at the shop. We’ve got a starter for you. You’ll have it back tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. How much do I owe you?”

“It’s usually one hundred, but it was an easy job, so don’t worry about it.”

“You came and got me at 2am, brought me home, and then fixed my car. AND YOU DON’T WANT ANYTHING FOR IT?”

“How about you buy me and the guys two pizzas? ‘That fair?”

“Oh my gosh. Dean, yes. Thank you!” YN squealed into the phone.

“I’ll call you when it’s done, okay?”

“Thanks, Dean!”

Dean checked on her every few weeks after that. Dean tried harder in therapy, realizing the value of it as he attended more sessions.

“YN told me what you did for her. How did that make you feel?”

“Good, I guess. She needed some help, and I could help her. She doesn’t think I’m a creep or something, right? I could be her dad, I was just trying to be nice.” Dean sputtered out.

“I think it’s fine, Dean.” The doctor laughed. “What I mean is that you gave of yourself when you didn’t have to.”

“I guess.”

Dean texted YN that night and asked if she needed anything.

YN: Nope, thanks, Winchester.

Dean: No problem, T.

YN: When are you going to stop with the ‘Tissues’ thing?

Dean: You don’t like it?

YN: Dork.

Dean: Whatever.

“I’m not going! I don’t feel good!”

“You’re not sick. So help me, I will dump that whole six pack down the drain if you don’t go to therapy today!” Sam chased after his brother.

“I’m- she makes me think, and I don’t like it!”

Sam chuckled.

“That’s her job, asshole.”

“Shut up. Fine. I’m going. You better not touch my beer.”

“Hi, Dean.” YN passed him after her session with their therapist. “How are you?”

“Not today, kid.” He ran past her and let the door slam as he entered the suite.

“Damn. Whatever, Winchester.”

“What’s going on today, Dean?” His therapist got comfortable in her chair.

“I’m fine,” he shrugged.

“Is that why everything you’ve done while in my office has included sudden movements? And maybe the reason you sound like an elephant stomping around?” She raised a brow.

“Doc, I don’t want to be here, okay?”

“You’re only here because of Sam, yeah, I got that. What’s going on? No therapy talk, just a conversation.”

I don’t know. Okay? I’ve been a mess since I’ve been coming to see you, and I don’t know why. I also don’t like it.”

“Ah. So then why are you still here? Other than your brother making you? There has to be something else.” Doctor Sky at him squarely.

“I’ve never felt like this before. I’m an emotional mess and yet it feels good…? Is that weird?” Dean readjusted his sitting position on the office couch.

“That makes perfect sense. You’re exploring parts of your life that you haven’t in a long time, Dean. It feels good to get it out, doesn’t it?”

“Odd, I think is a better word for it.” Dean huffed. “I hate being here, but I feel better about everything too.”

“That’s not at all a surprise to me, Dean.” She pulled out a pen and wrote a note to herself. :THat shows growth. I think you’ve grown.”

“I guess.”

“Did you write in your comic book?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Dean pulled it out from his large back pocket. He tried to hand it to her. Before reaching for it, she tilted her head.

“I gave you the option of not sharing it with me. Are you sure you want to?”

He extended it further.

“Did you enjoy putting your comic together?” His therapist flipped through a few pages and then looked up at him.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say it was fun, but I would rather do that than write it out.” Dean shrugged.

“Noted. So I see in here you depicted the fire.”

“And the time I had to take Sammy to the emergency room on my bike because he broke his arm,” he grinned at the memory.

“Oh my.” Dr. Sky smiled. “Sounds like a story for another time. Please keep using this, I think it will be beneficial to you. When you need a new one, let me know.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m very proud of you for sticking this out. I think we should talk about some coping skills for you.”

“Come on, doc.” Dean adjusted his jacket on his shoulders, showing his uncomfortableness.

“You’re showing new emotions, you need to know what to do with them, don’t you think?” His therapist put her notebook to the side.

“Do you enjoy physical activity, sports, watching TV?”

“All of the above.”

“When you start to feel out of control, use one of those. It’s good to feel emotions, and it’s healthy, but don’t let your mind stay there.”

“Makes sense.”

“You’re doing great, Dean. Keep up the good work.”

Forever Friends (Everything):

@katymacsupernatural @unicornblood4ever @supernatural-crazed-girl

@fangirl-moment-x @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl @super100012

@percywinchester27 @waywardsuns @supernatural-jackles

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09 @kingandrear @bellero @skylarraker

@seality @jaycc7983 @luci-in-trenchcoats

@cherryblossomflowers @because-you-never-know-when

@sleepylunarwolf @choosemyname

@internationalmusicteacher @mersuperwholocked-lowlife

@encounterthepast @torn-and-frayed

@giggles1026 @xiumin-girl99

@mangueweaschester

@idksupernatural @silverstripe101a

@thevelvetseries @jennawinchester152a * @samsgirl93 @supernatural3002 *

* @breereadsthings *

@a-magey @vicmc624 @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @beatifuldisaster018

@miraclesoflove @myopiamystical @fallen-wolf22

@waywardnewcomer

@marvelouslysherlockedhunter @miss-nerd95 @akshi8278

#supernatural #SupernaturalAU #mlovesstorieshisthoughtsontherapy #mlovesstories #dean winchester #dean x reader!platonic #Sam Winchester #sam x reader!platonic

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chvndlcr · 3 years

Text

hey everyone, i’m elle! i’m in the est timezone. i’m nonbinary and i use she/her pronouns. i’m very bad at doing short intro posts but i’m gonna try to keep these short and sweet. so now let’s talk about my boy chan. he is my oldest oc - i've been writing him since 2014.

[ alex fitzalan, cis man, 22, he/him ] did you see who just walked in? it was that SENIOR, the ╳ + ASSIDUOUS AND - GUARDED ╳ one? you know, the one who lives OFF CAMPUS, CHANDLER LINWOOD! i heard they are majoring in BUSINESS and they can’t wait to get out of here to FIGURE OUT WHAT HE WANTS TO DO. crap! stop staring, here they come!

name. james chandler linwood // when chandler was five, he found out about middle names at school. after asking his dad what his was, he immediately decided that chandler was a way cooler name than james, and has gone by his middle name ever since. one of his pet peeves is people referring to him as james. hometown. wayzata, mn // suburb of minneapolis major. business // chandler has no clue what he wants to do with his life. he’s been doing some photography gigs on the side since his freshman year of college, so he decided it wouldn’t hurt to get a degree in business so he could run his own shit better. he knows he doesn’t want to do photography as a career long-term, though. birthday. february 11th, 1999 // twenty two years old. gender. cis man orientation. biromantic asexual // chan is completely out as ‘bi’. most people assume that means he’s bisexual and he doesn’t correct that idea. he’s a lot quieter about being asexual. a lot of people don’t understand what it is, and ask invasive questions, and he’s a naturally private person who wants to avoid all of that entirely. hobbies. photography, cooking, video games phobias. acrophobia // fear of heights allergy. bee venom

[ BIO ] [tw. abuse/neglect, alcoholism, drug addiction, self harm, depression]

chandler is the only child of john and susan linwood. susan is a doctor while john works for an advertising company. susan has always been a bit ‘out there’, with no brain-to-mouth filter and some very problematic viewpoints and opinions. john started drinking when chan was eight. actually, he relapsed into drinking again, but chandler doesn’t know he had an alcohol problem before that. chandler knew his parents loved him; one of their better parenting traits was making sure he didn’t forget that. but they weren’t mentally present enough to be very good parents. gradually his dad became angry and violent while he was drinking and that, coupled with chandler’s rebellious teenage years, made the linwood home a less and less safe place for chandler.

in high school, he was known for hanging out with the “wrong crowd”. he partied a lot, trying to mentally escape from his home life and normal teen angst stuff. he often mouthed off to teachers and got in trouble on a regular basis. but he also worked really hard in school, taking mostly AP classes while managing As and Bs. not many people knew what to make of that, and acted like he was just a troublemaker that was naturally gifted. but in reality he was juggling challenging school work, a busy social life, and doing all of the cooking and cleaning at home.

another thing chan had a reputation for was quickly rotating through girlfriends (and boyfriends, but there weren’t anywhere near as many guys to date at his suburban high school). but it wasn’t the situation everyone thought it was. as relationships became more physically intimate, he became more uncomfortable. as soon as sex was suggested, he would end the relationship. in hindsight, this wasn’t the best way to approach dating. but at the time, he had no idea asexuality was a thing and that he didn’t owe anyone sex just because they were in a relationship.

his longest high school relationship was madison. they had mutual friends and started hanging out. madison had a fairly obvious drug problem, but that didn’t bother chandler. a part of him was more attracted to her because of it, although he’d never admit that to anyone. plus she was asexual. this not only was how he found out that was a sexual orientation, but it also took a lot of anxiety out of the idea of dating and chandler fell hard.

madison easily grew jealous. she was biphobic, hated sharing chandler with anyone, and was often bossy and controlling. yet chandler noticed none of the red flags until it was too late. by the time he started trying to untangle himself from her, he couldn’t. he was scared what she would do to herself if he ended things, and as she became physically violent he was scared of what she would do to him as well. since he couldn’t get out of the situation, and had never learned healthy ways of coping with the stress and trauma in his life, he turned to binge drinking and self harm.

his way out came in the form of an acceptance letter from suffolk university. as soon as he graduated high school, he left for boston and never looked back.

while he had a great inner drive in high school, that came to a screeching halt once he started college. his motivation had always been to get out of wayzata. but now that he was finally free, he had no idea what to do. at the same time, he was dealing with the aftermath of both his dad and his ex-girlfriend’s abuse towards him.

while he continued pushing forward, he never found that motivation to really care about school or his future again. he’s in his final year of college and still hasn’t figured out what he wants to do with his life. he feels stuck and frustrated.

most people don’t know about his parents, or his struggles with mental health and self harm. he’s in total denial that he has a problem with alcohol. he simply doesn’t open up easily, preferring to surround himself with a shell that can become spiky if he feels uncomfortable. but he’s always cracking jokes and acting like he doesn’t take anything seriously, putting up a front so nobody looks too closely at the cracks.

[ HEADCANONS ]

while chandler is shit at taking care of his own needs, he’s amazing at taking care of other people. he will hold your hair back at a party while you throw up, make sure you drink enough water and electrolytes, then make you breakfast in the morning. he’s definitely a bit of a ‘mom friend’, although he doesn’t think he is.

he may act apathetic, but he cares. a lot. he’s a rather empathetic person. unfortunately he has the emotional intelligence of a spoon, so this isn’t always a good thing

sometimes when he’s drunk, chandler starts rambling about video game and/or cartoon conspiracy theories

his yearbook quote was “would you woohoo me in sims yes or no”

also he really likes cooking for other people so if he asks to cook for you please just humor him and say yes

[ WANTED CONNECTION ]

some sort of family member // he’s an only child, so probably a cousin. they don’t have to be from minnesota.

exes // guys, girls, nonbinary people....doesn’t matter.

fake relationship // for some reason, these two pretend they’re dating. maybe more happens, maybe not.

restaurant service // they can’t cook, so they’re always coming over and eating what chandler makes.

roommate // they could be the best of friends or hate each others guts. lots of room to find the right dynamic

best friend // one of the only people chan trusts, and they know everything about him

classmate // self explanatory

[ DISCLAIMERS ]

i know some people get really touchy about aces being portrayed as sex repulsed so often. asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction, that’s it. some aces like sex. however, chandler does not and that’s okay too!

also i know he has some heavy topics in his writing. i will tag any post that involve these topics accordingly, and always do my absolute best to handle this kind of material in a respectful and empathetic way.

[ FINAL NOTES ]

so yeah that’s chandler. so much for making this short, but i actually left a lot of small details out. please like this post or send me a message to start plotting with my son.

#suffolksintro #(intro.)

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blissfulalchemist · 3 years

Note

“Oh! So we’re keeping score now?” + “Are you forgetting who my parents are?” + “Two can play at that game.” For Liz and Wyatt? 😘😘😘

“Are you forgetting who my our parents are?” had a little change there.

Tiny Dancer living on main in a 6.8k debut!

The end of the day shrill overtook the hallway as Liz organized her textbooks, getting the ones that she needed together for the weekend ahead. Ideally she should just bring all of them home with her, get a head start on some of the history report due before the holiday break. Wyatt though seemed to have other plans as he pleaded with Liz, “Come on, Liz,” he leaned on his shoulder against the lockers, black hair falling into his eyes, “You never come out with me. It’s just one little party.”

Liz laughed slamming the locker shut, “I have been to parties with you Wyatt. I just can’t go out this weekend. I’m grounded, remember.”

“Ugh, you’re always grounded,” he leaned back against the lockers looking up to the ceiling, eyes quickly looking down to her, “What did you get grounded for again? Was it the billboard or ditching class for the protest in Missoula?”

“They were one and the same Wyatt,” she reminded him, “but the ditching school is the official story,” Liz poked his arm, cocking an eyebrow, “and that’s how it’s gonna stay.”

“You know what I don’t get?” He turned to look down at her, “Why haven’t they just made you live with your dad? Seems like he can control you better and you get to see the world.”

Liz gave him a smirk, “Have you met me Wyatt? I’d have been wanted in three countries by now, forcing me to be on the run.” Liz patted his chest, “Better I just get in trouble here in the states.”

The two laughed as Wyatt pushed himself off the lockers, making their way to the auditorium, Wyatt putting his arm around her shoulders, “Seriously though Liz, why can’t you just ask to come with me?”

“Why does this party matter so much to you anyway?” Liz stepped away from him walking backwards a few steps pointing to him, “Or better question, why is it so important that I go with you to this one?”

He gave an exasperated sigh, “Mom and dad said I couldn’t go unless you’d be there with me,” he rolled his eyes brushing his hair out of his eyes, “Something about the buddy system or something like that.”

“Haven’t you gone to parties without me before though?”

“Yeah to people that didn’t have the reputation Kobie Wicks does though,” Oh that’s why, “You’ve heard the kind of parties he throws, his parents having all that money and their house. I mean I’m not wanting to party at the same level as some of the other attendees but still you know how it can be.”

She turned, flipping her hair, “If your parents won’t let you go, what makes you think that mom and dad will let me go?” The two opened the door to the auditorium, setting their things down in the back rows, the chatter of other students hushing their voices, “Especially while I’m supposed to be grounded. Pretty sure that’s why Tia said no to you.”

He gave a shrug of his shoulders, “Then lie about why you need to be out tomorrow night,” he grabbed his change of clothes from the bag, looking at the clock on the wall, “We can tell your parents that we have a project to work on and then we tell mine that you were allowed to go.”

Liz crossed her arms, brow raising as she looked up to him, “Wyatt,” he smiled, eyes hopeful, “are you forgetting who our parents are?” He shook his head, Liz giving him a light punch on the arm, “So what makes you think that’ll work? It’s not like our parents just met once we became friends you know? They were all friends way before we were even thoughts in their heads. They’d call our bluff faster than we could even tell them.” She shook her head, bending down to change her shoes, “There’s no way around this Wyatt. I know you want to go, but there’s nothing we can do to make this work.”

“You know, still doesn’t seem fair that you get to rehearse in your everyday clothes for the musical,” he grumbled, quickly hiding himself in the soundbooth to switch pants.

“Well it would be more accurate for Mamma Mia if I was able to stay in my boots though with my overalls,” Liz rolled her eyes, “But no, I could hurt my ankle. Not like I haven’t climbed out of windows or up trees in them before.”

Wyatt’s eyes lit up as he walked back out to her, quickly changing his shirt, “There is one thing we can do,” he gave Liz a smirk leaning closer to her, “We can both just sneak out.”

“Sneak out?” He nodded, “You want to sneak out and go to a party neither of us would ever be allowed to go to,” she crossed her arms looking up at him.

“Yeah,” Wyatt’s blue-green eyes flicked to the stage seeing the last of the other student actors straggling in, “We just take a page out of Uncle Chance’s book and we just sneak out. Those parties run late into the night and early morning, so we’ll be back before any of them wake up.”

“Wessy is always up early though,” Liz pointed out.

Wyatt scoffed, “What you think he comes and checks up on me when he wakes up and tucks me in again?” Liz gave a quick raise of her eyebrows shrugging, “And your mom sleeps in, so we won’t be found out.”

“You think you have this all thought out don’t you?” He nodded, Liz rolled her eyes. A smile like that only meant he was gonna do it either way at this point, someone had to save him from himself, “Well if we do this you have to figure out how we get there,” Wyatt’s smile grew holding his hand up for a high five, “and when you figure that out text me in our code so we can pull this off.”

“You got it, Lizzy,” she rolled her eyes, slapping her hand against his, “Just watch it’s gonna be worth it. We’ll have so much fun.” I hope so Wyatt. I hope so, the teacher called for them to take their places on the stage, their planning cut short.

Saturday night came and Liz couldn’t help but pace around her room making sure everything was how it should be, all in an attempt to make sure that no one was going to come and check up on her. Not that anyone would but she still couldn’t help but worry about it. Liz felt she really shouldn’t have been seeing as she snuck out before this, maybe it was just the destination this time that had her on edge. She didn’t even like going to the parties all the time, no one really liked her and it felt being at parties made her reputation tank more than raise it. At least this time she tried to look like she could fit in, taking another look at the skinny jeans, off shoulder floral print crop top, and black suede heeled booties. The top was tighter than she was used to, in fact the whole outfit was, and for once she did her hair and makeup to match the girls at school, she actually looked like someone her age, or well those that were cooler than her at school.

Her phone dinged with a picture of a golden retriever, her signal that Wyatt was there and time for her to make her way down the side of the house. Liz slipped her purse across her body, grabbing the wooden wedge as she slipped out the window. She lodged the wedge in place keeping the window open enough to let her back in by the end of the night. Liz looked down to the ground making sure her feet rested on the top of the window on the first floor, before shuffling over to make herself closer to the fence surrounding the house. Once there she easily made her way down it, this stunt normally done in her taller go-go boots. She landed on the grass silently, Wyatt’s arms helping in making her fall quieter in the still night. She smiled up at him brushing the dirt off her knees.

He waved for her to follow him, placing her on his back once they reached the concrete, stopping her heeled shoes from giving them away. Once a safe distance he placed her back on the ground, “Car’s just a little farther away,” he whispered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of the old leather jacket.

“How did you manage to get the car without them knowing?” Liz asked, a little impressed, rubbing her upper arms, she should have grabbed something with longer sleeves.

“Just borrowed one from Tommy, said I needed it for a project,” he explained, pulling the keys out, “Which means I get it until tomorrow afternoon without any questions.”

Liz shook her head holding back her laughter, “Tommy is too nice to you sometimes Wyatt. What did you agree to give him this time?” She smirked as he held the door open for her, “Not another week of slavery I hope.”

He slammed the door taking his place in the driver’s seat, “A dance lesson. Wants to impress some girl at a cotillion so that’s what I get to do next week.”

“I see no difference Wyatt,” Liz turned on the radio, checking her makeup and hair in the small car mirror, “That boy has two left feet. I should know, I had the bruises after homecoming to prove it.”

He laughed making his way to the main road, “Well then I will endure for us having some unsanctioned fun. When was the last time we did?”

“Hmmm, pretty sure the sophomore summer grounding,” Liz responded, reapplying her lipstick.

Wyatt thought a moment before laughing, “Oh yeah! That was the year you helped the seniors pull off their prank. I still believe you were in the right to help them, the principal deserved it, he was a dick most of the time.”

“Thank you! At least you’re still in my corner for that one,” she flashed him a smile as he kept his eyes on the road, “I would have gotten off Scott free if I didn’t have to put my political statement on the prank, cause I was young and stupid.”

Wyatt looked over to Liz as she adjusted her outfit, “You went with something different tonight?” She looked down, eyes wide, “No, no, not in a bad way. It looks nice Liz,” he focused back on the road clearing his throat, “Still like your normal style but you look really nice. Might have to keep people off of ya.”

She looked away hiding the small blush coming to her cheeks, “I think I can handle myself Wyatt.”

“Oh I know but there might be too many for you to take on all at once. I gotta help you, we’re a tag team you and me.” He pulled up to the party, parking behind a small line of cars along the driveway, the bass shaking the windows. The two looked at each other smiling, hearts pounding to the beat of the music, “Okay we still gotta drive so no hard liquor and max-. What time is it?”

Liz looked to her phone, “Eleven thirty.”

“Okay so max three drinks with equal or more parts water slash non-alcoholic drinks. Got it?” Liz nodded, Wyatt taking a deep breath, “Alright, let’s do this.”

“Wait,” she grabbed his arm, “What time does our carriage turn into a pumpkin?”

Wyatt thought for a moment, “Three just to play it safe.” The two nodded, performing their secret handshake before stepping out of the car. The lights were dimmed and accented by the flowing colors of a few light fixtures ranging from disco balls to star projectors, the outdoor areas with regular lighting. From the looks of it every one of the upperclassmen were in attendance, including a few recent graduates from the year before, each one a different level of intoxication and high. Wyatt’s eyes scanned the room spotting a few drinking games, varying dance floors, and other games that seemed to be getting started, Liz wide eyed as she took it in.

“Where do we start tonight, Brooks?” Liz asked a smile coming to her face, noticing the few stares the two of them were getting, eyes lingering on her more. “Drinks then dancing?”

“You read my mind,” he smiled pulling her to the kitchen getting their night started. The two bounced throughout the activities separating at times when Liz got held up in conversation or Wyatt decided to try his hand at seven minutes in heaven, he only got lucky two out of the six times he tried. The attention Liz got felt unnerving to her as people couldn’t stop talking to her, pulling her to the dance floor, or offering her drinks. People that never paid much mind to her in school were suddenly acting as if they had been friends forever. A single night where Liz didn’t feel like such an outcast and she was actually enjoying it….until she nearly got thrown into the pool by a football player. Wyatt managed to help pull her away just in time, walking them to a beer pong table.

“Thanks for that,” she yelled, making sure he heard her over the music.

“It’s no problem. That’s the fifth time tonight I’ve had to save you,” he laughed ruffling her hair.

She pushed his hand away, “Oh! So we’re keeping score now? Cause if I recall I’ve saved you from three girls, two boyfriends of said girls, an ex of yours, and yourself from jumping off the roof.”

Wyatt waved her off, “I was gonna be fine and you know it,” he took a sip of his drink, Liz noticing that it didn’t look like the beer they were supposed to be drinking, “You just didn’t want me to take the attention away from you.”

Liz gave a loud laugh, “You were gonna biff it,” she pointed to his cup curious, “Thought no hard liquor tonight?” He looked down to it giving her a sheepish smile, Liz stopping any explanation from him, “Don’t worry about it, I’m on drink two so I’ll stop and drive us home. You can stay with me tonight.”

“Won’t that defeat the idea of us sneaking out though?” Wyatt asked, his body starting to move along to the music.

Liz shook her head, “Nah. We just say you had a hard night and needed a friend. They can’t fault us for that.”

His eyes went wide, “Won’t they think we’re together though? Like together together.”

She rolled her eyes playfully putting her hand on his shoulder, “Wyatt, the minute they start thinking that is the minute we call them seniors, cause they’re blind as hell.”

The two almost toppled over as Carmina embraced them from behind, “Hey you two,” her blue eyes looking between them, “Can I request you two love birds’ presence on the dance floor?”

Liz rolled her eyes, feeling her cheeks getting warm, “We’re not together, Carmina. Don’t know how many times I have to remind you of that.”

“Then don’t look like you are,” she teased, grabbing their hands, “Come on let’s go dance!”

Liz and Wyatt followed her out to the floor getting lost in the music that played, the two ignoring the time as it passed. Liz had felt herself sobering up as she and Wyatt worked their through more games, conversations, and meeting the new friends Carmina had made at the community college. The three of them had just finished making their way through beating everyone at darts, and even with the slight sway in Wyatt, he was making near dead center shots, collecting the twenty dollar bet against a recent graduate by the time Liz looked to the clock on her phone, eyes growing wide.

She brought the phone screen up to Wyatt, “We gotta go!”

He was ready to laugh her off when he saw the clock reading four in the morning, “Oh fuck!” They left Carmina’s side without a goodbye Wyatt having to stop setting his drink down reaching for the keys in his coat pocket, his fumbling hands dropping them. Liz reached down to get them, a football player snatching them first, “Hey give them here!” Wyatt called out.

“Hey Jason,” their classmate called out, catching the eye of a teammate of his, “Catch!”

“Hey!” Liz yelled running to try and catch the keys before Jason did. His taller frame had him snatching them from the air. “Give those here Jason!”

He smirked, tossing them back to his friend, Wyatt trying to catch them to no avail, “Catch them and you can have them.” The keys were tossed towards Liz again, jumping up to try and catch them, Jason holding her to the ground.

“Now you’re just playing dirty,” she glared up at him, hands on her hips.

Jason gave her a shrug holding the keys above her, “We can always work out another deal you know,” her eyes narrowed watching as his grey eyes moved up her body slowly, “You don’t have to leave the party just yet.”

“Fuck no,” she tried to jump for them again, Wyatt coming up behind her, “Now give them back!”

Wyatt took the distraction to snatch the keys back, earning a glare from Jason, “Come on Liz let’s get out of here,” Wyatt said pushing her towards the door.

“I won’t be so nice next time Jason! I can promise you that,” Liz called out before leaving the house, Wyatt handing her the keys. “Stupid Jason thinking he can get what he wants just by playing stupid games,” Liz grumbled opening the passenger door for Wyatt, “He’s got another thing coming, cause two can play at that game. Doesn’t even know that I have the power to fail him in math class.”

“Liz,” Wyatt said softly as she started the car, she glanced at him with her brown eyes, “forget about him. He’s just some jerk. Not worth being petty over.”

She sighed putting the radio on low, “You’re right, I just never liked him and tonight didn’t help his case.”

Wyatt gave her a smirk turning his head to look out the window, “That’s no surprise. He obviously wanted to hook up with you so we know what that means.”

Liz furrowed her brow, trying and failing to come up with an answer, “I have no idea actually Wyatt.”

“He wants what he can’t have,” he rolled his head back to face her with a lazy smile, “You won’t let him sleep with you or give him any kind of positive attention and it just makes him more upset and possibly desire you more because normally everyone loves him and agrees to what he wants. But you,” he reached a hand to poke her cheek, Liz grabbing his hand before he could make contact, placing it on the seat, “you don’t. You’re his unicorn, hence his behavior.”

Liz shook her head, rolling her eyes, “Well he’s never gonna win.”

“Cause you like girls more,” Wyatt nodded, changing the song.

She gave a small laugh, “I like guys too, but it's his personality. I just can’t get past that.”

“And you shouldn’t,” he sat up straighter in the seat, “Liz we’ve grown up together and I know you. So I know that someone like him ain’t gonna cut it.” Wyatt scoffed, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back, “Hell even if there was some clone of me that wasn’t a part of our family circle out there, they still wouldn’t deserve you.”

She chuckled, shaking her head lightly, “You might be a little tipsy I think Wyatt, cause if it was a clone of you that would mean that they are a part of the family circle technically, because they have your DNA.”

“All ‘bout the details with you,” he smiled laughing, “Just like Uncle Raf. Raf,” he repeated, tilting his head, “Weird name to say don’t you think? Raf,” he said slowly shaking his head.

“Yeah it’s a good thing you’re staying with me tonight,” Liz mused, parking the car down the street like he had done earlier. “Alright buddy, here’s how this is gonna go,” she turned to face him, keeping his eyes focused on her, “I’m gonna climb over the fence, let you in. Then, I’ll climb to the window first so I can get you the ladder to come up.”

“Can’t I just climb like you?”

Liz shook her head, “You’re not as quiet like this Wyatt. Speaking of which,” Liz took her shoes off carrying them, Wyatt giving her a curious look, “So we can make less noise.” She and Wyatt made their way to her house trying to stop him from humming too loudly the entire walk there. The fence was easy to scale with Wyatt as Liz’s boost, along with making it to the window, her hand not meeting the inner sill like she should have. Liz looked along the window seeing that he was shut and impossible to open with how she was situated, even on her own it would be impossible. She looked to the ground below her, there was no way that it had come out….at least on it’s own. “Oh no,” she breathed out, that wasn’t a reassuring sign. “Wyatt,” she whispered, “put me down.”

He placed her down, eyes looking her over, “What’s wrong?”

“The window’s locked, could have been Danny, though. He can be a little jerk sometimes,” she pulled him to the back door, “Let’s sneak in the back, but keep quiet okay.” He nodded, following silently as they made their way to the back, Liz testing the door finding it locked. She looked to Wyatt frowning, “I think we’re in trouble Wyatt.”

“Gotta use the front door?” Liz nodded, “Fuck.” Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, “My idea, I’ll take the heat. Hopefully it’s your mom,” he said shaking his shoulders out.

Liz looked at him confused, “Of course it’d be my mom. Why would you think otherwise?”

“Saw your dad’s car I think,” he pointed towards the front of the house, “Hope it's not him.”

Liz groaned quietly, it was very possible he got that earlier flight in the end, “I hope so too. But if it is him, let me take it okay. I’m used to it.” She put her arm around Wyatt as the two made their way to the front of the house, each preparing for the inevitable punishments. Standing in front of the door they look to each other grabbing the other’s hand, “Remember let me take the heat for this one okay. I convinced you like I do all the time-.”

“Not true I’ve convinced you before,” he interjected.

“How many times were those actually blamed on you though?”

“Touche,” Wyatt nodded.

“So I take the blame and hopefully I can convince dad to just let you stay here tonight. Then Aunt Wren and Uncle Wes can’t punish you as much or even find out if we’re super lucky.”

He gave her a smirk, “When have we ever been that lucky, Liz?” Wyatt gave her hand a squeeze, “Let’s do this.” Wyatt opened the door stepping in first, the living room light turning on, their eyes locking with Raf’s narrowed brown eyes, his jaw set, arms crossed, and not alone. Wyatt’s eyes went wide, “Dad,” he squeaked out, “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think Wyatt?” Raf said calmly, “You two are in a lot of trouble,” he pointed to Liz, “You especially young lady. What were you thinking sneaking out?” Liz looked down to the ground briefly gathering herself, while Raf took in her outfit, “And dressed like that. Do you know how worried I was, how worried Wes was with your little stunt. On top of that-.”

“Wasn’t her idea,” Wyatt said standing straighter, the three looking his way, Liz hissing his name under her breath, “It was mine. The whole thing. Liz just didn’t want me to go to the party alone, wanted to keep an eye on me. So you can’t blame her.”

“You drunk, kid?” Wes asked, looking to see if Liz was in the same state.

Wyatt gave a slow shrug, “You both drank? And then decided to drive,” Raf took a deep breath in, “What were you two thinking!”

“Liz didn’t drink, she stayed sober once she saw me drinking more,” Liz covered her face, Wyatt that’s not how you lie, “She drove not me.”

Raf pinched the bridge of his nose, Wes shaking his head, “Liz, is this true?”

She nodded, “Yeah, one and a half beers at the very beginning of the night with two glasses of water between them. I’ve taken your guys’ advice when it comes to drinking, seriously.”

Wes nodded, “Least you were smart about it.”

“Was it really your idea,” Raf interrupted, eyes staring down at her, “and don’t try to take the full heat for this, Wyatt has to learn his lesson too.”

Liz looked at Wyatt, eyes sad, it was better to lie and make herself the villain, save Wyatt from her dad, but it would make it worse for herself if she just didn’t tell the truth either. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, Wyatt giving a slow nod in understanding, turning to meet her father’s eyes, “It was Wyatt’s idea. I helped with some planning-.”

Raf cut her off, pointing up the stairs, “Room. Now.”

“Dad but you should know that-,” she tried to argue, a sliver of hope that maybe she could lessen the extent of Wyatt’s punishment.

“Room,” his voice was calm and left no arguing, “We’ll talk later.” Liz grabbed Wyatt’s hand giving him a sympathetic squeeze, her eyes meeting his green eyes, “Now Liz.”

Wes’ eyes looked down to their hands noticing how slow they were to let go, “Yes sir,” Liz said, hanging her head making her way up the stairs, sitting in front of her door wanting to hear how much trouble she got him in.

“In your room, no sitting in front of it,” Liz rolled her eyes at her father’s voice, she knew there was no faking him out either. She sat in her room behind the door hoping to hear some of what was being said. It really wasn’t fair to Wyatt to be taking on the lecture, that Liz could handle, he didn’t deserve it. She didn’t have to agree to go with him, but she did and therefore should have taken the lecture and extra punishment, worth it for him to stay on dad’s good side. Not to mention his mom when he got home was going to double down on it. Liz could hear their voices muffled but distinct, Wes interjecting when needed, but Raf did most of the lecturing, her name being tossed in a few times.

It was an hour before Raf finally stopped his lecture letting Wes and Wyatt go home. Liz let out a slow breath getting up to sit on her bed, listening to her dad’s footsteps making their way to her room. He knocked on the door, waiting for her, “You can come in,” she said softly looking at the carpet, kicking her foot out below her.

Raf entered, shutting the door behind him, pulling the chair from her desk sitting across from her, arms resting on his knees. The two sat in silence for a minute, the tension causing goosebumps to raise on her arms, “Liz,” Raf started, her shoulders hunching over, “what are we going to do with you? It seems like every other week there’s something with you and your mom and I,” he ran a hand through his hair, “well we’re running out of ways to put a stop to this behavior.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise,” Liz’s heart falling, holding back the lump in her throat.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time, Liz,” he snapped trying to keep his voice soft, “We just need you to understand that what you’re doing has consequences and one day no one is going to be there to bail you out. We can’t keep saving you. You’ll be an adult in the eyes of the law soon and with your history they won’t go easy on you.” Liz curled into herself more hiding her face as best she could, “I don’t want to see you make mistakes that will affect you for the rest of your life. I know you want to be headstrong, do the right thing, speak up for the underdog, and just be a teenager all at the same time but you have to start thinking about the long term effects.”

“I’m trying though,” Liz whispered, “I promise you I am.”

“Not hard enough,” she flinched at his words, Raf let out a sigh, “Look I know you want to act like an adult, think you’re one already, but you aren’t Liz,” he placed a hand on her knee, “You just aren’t and that’s why we set these rules and boundaries for you. We aren’t placing them there just because we like to, far from it, it’s because we care about you. You just keep pushing and pushing those boundaries to the limit and,” he took a breath looking away for a moment, “well the next limit for us to take is treating you like a real adult.”

“What,” her voice cracked, “What do you mean?” By his tone of voice she could tell he didn’t mean it in the way every teenager dreamed of.

“You heard me,” he sat up straight in the chair, his eyes never leaving hers, “Your mom and I will treat you like a real adult. You’ll have to find some way to pay rent, get your own food, and finish school. You’ll be on your own.”

Eyes going wide Liz pleaded, “That’s-that’s not fair,” her father gave a shrug of his shoulders, “You can’t do that! I’m your daughter, you have to take care of me.”

“You want to be an adult so badly, We’ll treat you like one.”

“You’re bluffing,” she countered, “You’d never just cut me off like that. Mom wouldn’t let you.”

“You really want to put that to the test?” He leaned forward, “Cause that’s our last option with you. There isn’t anything else for us to do other than for us to stop bailing you out when you get in trouble.”

Liz scoffed, “So that’s my punishment for just sneaking out?” There’s no way mom would allow for that, not after how her mom handled punishments, “Doesn’t seem like it fits the crime honestly, too harsh. Just ask anyone.”

“You’re right, so for tonight’s stunt, your grounding is extended by another two weeks and I’m revoking online privileges, I’m putting up more blocks on all devices. You have to get approval for sites if you need them for school purposes only,” Liz opened her mouth to protest Raf holding a hand up, “Look there is nothing else I can really take from you at this point that wouldn’t have effects into other parts of your life that I want you to focus on.” Raf took a deep breath, “I’m also locking that window and you have a set time frame that you must be home by. No going out anywhere, not even to family unless your mom or I are with you.” Liz let herself relax hearing the new terms of her grounding, I should have brought a notebook out with everything he’s just thrown at me. “You break any and I mean any of these rules or you get in trouble for something else I will not allow for anyone to bail you out. You will be on your own.” He leaned closer to Liz, jaw set and voice low, “Do I make myself clear?”

Liz’s heart pounded in her chest, feeling the anger starting to burn in her blood. She wanted to tell him no, what he was proposing was unfair and unjust, that a child should not be left to fend for themselves….and yet she knew he had a point. Raf was being strict and sounding unkind in how he presented her options, but there was genuine worry there. She knew that he loved her, he always had, even when he was away he always managed to find some way to show how he was there for her. Why would this time be any different? It was unfair punishment in her eyes still but it must have all come to a head for it to have gotten under his skin this much after the countless times she had been caught for other things. Liz let out a slow breath swallowing her pride, “Crystal sir.”

He nodded leaning back in the chair, running his hands down his face, looking back at her, his face softer. “Come here,” Raf stretched his arms out to her, Liz looking at him suspiciously, “Just want to give you a hug. I missed you.” Liz didn’t move from where she sat, Raf getting up to sit next to her putting an arm around her, “You know I love you right? I always will, mija,” he said softly, “I just worry about you so much, I don’t want to see you hurt. I also- I just want you to have the world open to you. You deserve to take it on and have them all listen whether they like it or not.” He kissed the side of her head, “I just wish you’d be smarter about it like I know you are.”

“Just don’t want me to end up having to make my early adulthood harder than it needs to be like others in our family had,” Liz said looking back to the ground.

“Exactly,” he pulled her closer, “I want you to have it better than we did.”

“I apparently take after Uncle Wes so that may be inevitable,” she moved closer leaning her head against Raf’s shoulder.

Raf gave a small smile shaking his head, “I know we like to make that joke but while it is partially true, you actually take after you mom,” Liz looked up furrowing her brow, “It’s true, you just don’t get to see it. You get your big heart from her, being headstrong, compassionate, and impulsiveness from her.”

“Mom has never been impulsive like I am though,” Liz shook her head, “When she was younger, like way younger, right?”

“Like I said you don’t see it. Now don’t tell her I told you this but her control goes out the window when she has too much to drink,” Liz’s eyes went wide a smile threatened her lips, “She doesn’t get that way too much now but there was a Halloween she broke a man’s nose and beat him for making fun of her height or the time she wanted to spray paint a rainbow on someone’s house for their homophobic comments about her and Wren’s sexuality.” Liz laughed in disbelief, “So see a lot like her. Just have to work on getting her control and you’ll make your mark in the history books.”

“I’ll try, dad,” Liz wrapped her arms around him tightly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Raf kissed the top of her head, hugging her, “Though please don’t try to test my limits.”

She nodded, “I know. You’ll follow through with it.” Raf patted her back standing, making his way to the door, “Hey dad,” he turned to face her, “How did you even find out?”

“Oh,” he gave her a smile, “Wes wanted to just tuck in his kids, something about having so much time with them while being young, or something cheesy like that. Nothing that our family would understand honestly.”

Liz gave a light laugh seeing his smile, “Oh yeah, totally. Who wants to be cheesy like that with their kids.”

“Anyway, he saw Wyatt was gone. Called your mom wondering if he came over like he does on occasion when he’s upset. I just got home, saw her phone go off and answered it.” Raf shrugged, “Would have found out either way, was planning on looking in on you guys after I got my stuff settled.”

“Of all nights for Wessy to be cheesy,” Liz whispered to herself, letting out a sigh.

“Now we both need some sleep,” he pointed to the window, “I’ll take care of what we discussed later today. So don’t try to sneak out again this early,” Liz nodded, watching as he left her room closing the door. She sat waiting for the sound of her parent’s bedroom door to close, making a break for her laptop. She opened up the messages connected to her phone seeing if Wyatt had tried to get a hold of her, nothing showing. She quickly typed a message to him, leg bouncing as she waited for a response from him. Five minutes passed before he responded, sending her a video call.

Wyatt had a lopsided smile on his face already changed out of the clothes he was wearing, “Hey trouble maker,” he said laughing.

“Har har. You’re one to talk, Sherlock,” Liz rolled her eyes once, settling her face worry taking over her features, “You doing okay? I know my dad can be a lot and you had your dad getting in on it too,” she rambled, waving her hands getting her thoughts back in order, “Just wanted to see how you held up.”

His face turned serious, taking a deep breath, “You know I think I know how it feels to be short now. Like really understand now.”

Liz let out a snort, “That’s dads for ya, somehow manage to make you feel three feet tall. What was the final verdict on punishment for you?”

“No surprise, but grounded,” he gave a shrug, “Mom was a bit upset about the whole thing, so I got it from her too. I also have no games, so I now have the punishment laptop for school,” Liz gave an exaggerated wince, Wyatt laughing. “I know right? But uh a slightly stricter curfew and manual labor with dad for the duration or until he has nothing left for me to do. I’m sure you got off easier this time Liz since I was to blame. Just a very harsh lecture from Uncle Raf.”

Liz looked at the desk, pursing her lips, “Wyatt I am….a repeat offender. I am not allowed out of the house without supervision, or well even in the house without someone else being here. Window is gonna be sealed too.”

“But nothing taken away though,” he pointed out, “Better than me.”

Liz’s jaw dropped before laughing, “Excuse me sir but there is nothing left for them to take from me that wouldn’t have consequences in other parts of my life.”

He thought for a moment, “Fair point. Oh you know what dad also told me on the drive home?” Liz shook her head, “He gave me a six out of ten for my sneaking out attempt. A rank, Liz. He ranked my sneaking out ability.”

“Hey, six out of ten isn’t bad,” Liz shrugged, smiling.

He leaned back in his chair with a huff, “You kidding me? That’s a failing grade right there. I gotta do better next time, gotta pass with flying colors like I do everything else.”

Liz shook her head, rolling her eyes, “There will not be a second time.”

“Sure there won’t be Lizzy,” Wyatt laughed, Liz feeling the automatic response to give him a shove, opting to shake her head groaning. When his laughter subsided, he met her eyes with his light green ones, catching the light of the rising sun, “I am glad to see you’ll be okay though Liz. Sorry I dragged you into this, got you in trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved him off, “I had a lot of fun tonight, so worth it you know?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his eyes getting a far away look, “Worth it.”

“Anyway you should get some sleep and end this call before your mom finds you,” Liz said, “I’ll see you Monday at school,” he nodded. Liz gasped, “Oh also, don’t forget to bring a second meal tomorrow cause we have the test performance that night.”

“Aye aye, captain,” he saluted her, the two laughing, “And you don’t forget the Hot Tamales for me.”

“I know. You took the heat this time so fair is fair.” The two waved to each other, their screens going dark, Liz leaning back in her chair. “We’ll do it again,” she mocked, “In your dreams.”

#lizette eden oc #tiny dancer #I love my baby okay but lessons must be learned

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honestlyhufflepuff · 4 years

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The Sleep and Secrets Between Them

Jam Week Day 3: Sleep. Summary: The events of “Escapism” and moments thereafter from Connie’s perspective. Yes, there’s angst, but hopefully that makes the moments of fluff and closeness all the sweeter. Word count: 2038.

***

They slept as much as they could in the tower. It helped fight off the boredom, the aching hunger, and the despair. The air was stagnant and hot, and the floor hard and unforgiving. There were no sweet Pebbles who made the last room they stayed in feel so much like home. The two of them cycled between sleeping tangled in each other’s arms for some source of softness and comfort and sleeping on the concrete alone to avoid the sweat and heat of the other.

Steven being able to astrally project was the only hope they had of rescue, which is why she so willingly offered her lap as a pillow. She started regretting this sooner than she’d hoped, her legs aching against the hard floor under Steven’s weight. He remained eerily still in his slumber. His breathing came so soft that she placed her hand in front of his lips several times to ensure he was still alive. The earth was an unfathomable distance away, and Connie wondered what would happen to them if he couldn’t find help, or if he couldn’t find his way back to his body.

She shook her head violently, rejecting all the grim possible outcomes of their situation. She had to continually choose to believe in Steven. Dwelling on the alternatives was not productive.

Hours passed, and still Steven slept. Connie’s eyelids grew heavy, and several times her head snapped up before she almost fell forward on top of him with exhaustion.

She picked up Steven’s hand and dropped it a couple of times. It always landed heavy and limp, with no indication of stirring. She nodded, confident she wouldn’t wake him, and slid her hands under each arm. With a few heaving pulls, she got him close enough to the wall that she could rest against it. She lowered his head to the floor and attempted to stand to stretch her legs.

Connie buckled on her knees immediately, wincing as pins and needles shot through her awakening blood vessels. She limped and stomped around the room, cursing under her breath, until she regained sensation in her limbs. She paced around the lengths of her prison, hating that all she could do was wait while her passed out best friend relied on his iffy psychic powers for their rescue. Her stomach roared at her and her throat burned for moisture. Serial murderers got more humane living conditions than this on earth.

“Stupid space-nazi bitches,” she muttered to herself.

It felt like a warranted situation to cuss in, being in prison and all. Despite that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her mom could hear her from light-years away.

With a sigh, she resigned to sit back down and wait for Steven to return.

Leaning against the wall, she pulled his head back into her lap, making sure to sit with her legs to the side so they wouldn’t lose feeling as easily this time. She stroked his cheek, feeling a very faint island of stubble on otherwise baby-smooth skin. She straightened his pink clothes, which had gotten bunched and rumpled when she moved him over to her. She marveled at how naturally he donned the outfit and role of his late mother like it was just what he was supposed to do.

“Steven,” she croaked, clearing her parched throat, “I know you’re sorry for leaving me behind, back when you tried to go and sacrifice yourself, but I know you’d probably do it again if you knew I wouldn’t get pissed at you. You always want to shield everyone to the point that you try to do all the dangerous stuff alone while you leave them behind.”

Curls of hair stuck to his forehead, and she wiped them away. “I know you regret bringing me with you because you don’t want me to get hurt. But I chose to come here, because the earth is my home, too. I couldn’t stand to live in a bubble while you did all the hard things; I’d rather die. I might die. But if I do, it was my choice.

“If we don’t make it out of here- or if I don’t- I want you to know that it isn’t your fault. I want you to know that I’m ok with you making me like Lars, if you can, because I want to continue to fight for my planet for as long as I can.

She swallowed the lump of tears in her throat, not wanting to get dehydrated anymore than she could help it.

“I know your mind is back on earth, and I hope everything is going ok there, but I hope some part of you can still hear me. Because I want you to know that…” she let out a shaky exhale, looking for any sign of awareness in his face.

“I want you to know that I love you, Steven.” Despite her best efforts, a few tears finally spilled down her cheeks, “I know sometimes you think I don’t like you the same way you like me because I don’t care about marriage and romance that much, but I do. I love you so much that all those things that seem stupid and gross in romance stories seem beautiful and sweet when I see them through your eyes,” she choked out a laugh and wiped her face, “I hope someday I have the guts to tell you all this stuff when your consciousness is at least on the same planet as me.”

She leaned over his face and opened one of his eyelids, staring at his black pupil fully dilated and still. As she let his eye slide closed again, she pressed her lips gently against his forehead before sitting back up.

“You can’t hear me at all,” she said with a sigh, “That just means I’ll have to survive. Because you deserve to know. I’ll find a way to tell you when we’re back on earth.”

Connie leaned back and sleep overtook her in almost the same moment that she closed her eyes.

She woke what only seemed minutes later, but it must have been several hours judging from the low light outside. The nights were a little cooler on Homeworld, making snuggling more tolerable. She sighed against the softness of Steven’s bosom, and smiled as she felt his arms tighten around her. Then she realized that if he was holding her, that meant he was no longer in her lap. She bolted upright, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“You’re awake! You’re back! Steven, what happened?”

“Hey, Connie,” he said with a tired smile, “I found Bismuth and Dad. I hope they’re gonna be able to come.”

“And? What else? Details, Universe!”

“Details-” he scrunched up his face, “I think I possessed a watermelon person? And I think I died.”

“You-” Connie withdrew her hands from him, “you died?”

“Yeah,” he looked away from her, “I don’t really want to talk about it anymore, if that’s ok with you. It was kind of a weird experience.”

“Of course, that’s ok! I’m just glad you’re here.”

“What about you? Get into any trouble without me?” He offered her an attempt at a playful smile.

“I, um…”

She thought of her gushing monologue to his uninhabited body before and tried to think of how to say it now that his wide eyes were looking back at hers.

“Yeah?” Prompted Steven.

Connie couldn’t bring herself to tell him, because then it would sound like a goodbye, and she was not about to have any goodbyes in that damned, musty tower.

“Oh, you know, I just kind of dozed off,” she said.

“Heh,” his shoulders slumped, “yeah, I guess there isn’t much else to do.”

Conversation had always flowed easily between them. They used to relish every allowance to have a sleepover or stay up late into the night talking and goofing off.

It was a different dynamic in the tower, though. They had a few good conversations, and even a few sparse moments of laughter, but their interaction became more and more minimal as the heat from the next day crept into the dank room. They slept as much as they possibly could, and even when sleep didn’t come, they often pretended to be asleep as the thirst was making them both too groggy and irritable to attempt anymore interaction than necessary.

After they were released from the tower by Blue, Connie figured the most traumatic part of the journey was behind them, but then she watched Steven’s gem get ripped from his body. She carried him, right in front of White, who could crush her dead at any second with her pinky nail.

He almost died right there in her arms, and even after he reunited with his pink side, and after the gems were released from White’s power, there was still an unspoken seriousness between Connie and Steven that hadn’t been there before. It was only perceptible in the most quiet moments.

When they got back to earth, Connie insisted on still being able to sleep with Steven for a month straight. Her parents protested, saying it was “hardly appropriate,” but once Pearl informed them that she could keep watch since she didn’t need sleep, they seemed placated.

When the gems all wanted an account of how they won White over, Steven told a doctored version of the story where he used his shield to block her attack and talk to her, with no inclusion of the gem removal.

Whenever Connie began to grow uncomfortable with him telling that version of the story, he met her eyes with a knowing stare, communicating the gems couldn’t know what White did if there was any hope of peace and trust between them and the Diamonds. He wouldn’t even talk about it with Connie, insisting that it “didn’t matter” how he was affected by it because the outcome was a happy ending with everyone fine.

So, none of the adults in their lives knew the full reason why Connie insisted on sleeping next to Steven. None of them knew why he thrashed in his sleep almost every night until she calmed him. None of them knew why he raised his shield every time he was mildly startled.

Eventually, Steven had to go back to Homeworld, because the Diamonds lauded him as the Savior that had to teach them how to be better in order to not have an oppressive caste system that harvested entire planets.

Connie knew she couldn’t go with him that time, unless she just intended on dropping out of high school. Her parents wouldn’t be ok with that, but neither would she. She didn’t want to abandon her academic ambitions, her family, and her friends at school to go spend years on a planet that regarded her as little more than a “pet” at best, and someone to be discarded or imprisoned at worst.

It was odd, getting used to sleeping alone again when she’d grown so protective over Steven. She found herself waking up in the night clutching for him, as she dreamed of White’s inky talons ripping through her blankets after them.

Connie eventually got some counseling, and the dreams lessened until they hardly happened at all.

Still, she looked forward to the nights when Steven would warp into her room and wordlessly nuzzle against her under the covers, making her especially relieved her parents deemed her mature enough to have a lock on her door. Steven was always so tired the nights he came. Even when he tried to stay up to talk with her, his sentences would trail into incomplete mumbles until he fell asleep minutes later. She wondered how much sleep he was getting on the nights he didn’t come.

She noticed little changes in those quiet nights. More indications of facial hair. Broader shoulders. Longer limbs. A year after their events in the tower, he went from looking like an eight-year-old to a kid nearly his actual age. Now that he was no longer expected to be someone he wasn’t, he was finally growing.

She could sleep better knowing that.

#jamweek #connverse #yeah idk if a short drabble is happening this week guys #because once again i have no chill #and i am losing sleep over writing these cinnamon rolls #lizzywrites

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shinobirain24 · 3 years

Text

Water and Ice- Chapter 8: Saturn and Lydia

Neptune and Weiss returned to Argus. He felt relieved that he's not going to take the ferry for a while, but who knows when he'll haver to use it again? Weiss held his hand since he felt shaken since the previous night of his nightmare and didn't pull back. Weiss' face turned red when she keeps looking at her hand with his. She wanted it to lasts forever. On the pier, there they saw Flynt Coal, a dark-skinned man with a cool hat and sunglasses. And Neon Katt, a female faunus with a cat tail and roller skates. Both are members of Team FNKI. "Hey, Schnee! What's up?" Flynt waved. Despite the earlier conflict at the Vytyl Tournament. They parted in good terms.

"Oh, hey Flynt! Neon! It's been a while." Weiss said. They then looked at Neptune. "Hey, you're that dude from Team SSSN in the tournament, right?" He asked.

"Yep, that's me." Neptune nodded and gave him the fist pump. "By the way, I like that hat, looks pretty cool on you."

"Gotta say, you ruled in the round against NDGO." Neon said cheerfully.

"So what's brings you here to Argus? Shouldn't you guys be in Atlas?" Weiss asked.

"About that, we are planning to get our huntsmen licenses revoked."

"What?" Weiss inquired. "But you guys are huntsmen now. Why throwing your jobs away?"

Flynt and Neon are both graduate students from Atlas Academy. They hesitated to tell her some strange activities going on in the military. "The thing is, your sister, the general. She isn't the same person you used to know anymore." Which makes Weiss slightly jolt a bit. "What do you mean?"

"Come to think of it. She's starting to act a bit strange. Even scared. Earlier there are huntsmen who're claimed to be wrongfully arrested. I don't know if this is true or not, but something doesn't feel right. As much as we respect the general, we cannot bring ourselves to stay in Atlas. So we ran to lay low for a while." Neon explained, then turned to Neptune. "By the way, goggle boy. you need to make a run for it."

"Huh?" Neptune scratched his head in confusion. Flynt showed him his scroll for him to see himself on the wanted segment. With his name and face on it. "You're all over the news, man. I don't know what is going on, but they're looking all over for ya."

"And to think I'm only wanted in Atlas." Neptune sighed.

"Well, looks like General Schnee is one step ahead." Neon said. "Way quicker than Ironwood."

"As much as we would like to stay and chat, Neptune and I have to keep going. You guys should do the same." Weiss said.

"It's cool. We need to get going as well. Juane is sending us an invitation to his meeting." Flynt told them.

"Meeting?" They both questioned.

"We'll catch up later. See ya!" Neon waved.

"Stay safe!" Weiss waved back as they left the dock.

"I've taken this guys happened to have some history." Said Neptune.

"Actually, we didn't know each other much. But from what I've got from Flynt is that his father used to own a dust shop. Until my father forced him to shut it down. Don't get me wrong, I felt bad for him. It's no wonder why I've been labeled a "rich brat." Weiss explained. Looking back, she wanted to become a huntress to reclaim the honor of her family name. Since her father tainted it with methods of faunus slavery and questionable business partnerships. Her sister have opened her eyes that wealth does not lead to glamour and happiness. It leads to the abuse of power. Leading Weiss to enroll to Beacon. "Don't let the past get to you. It's bad enough if you let that get you very emotional." Neptune advised. Weiss led him to a clothing store, since he needed a disguise to not grab any attention for a while. "Wait behind the building, I'll be right back." Weiss told him as she entered the store.

Neptune waited for Weiss to come out. It left him wondering about the nightmare where he saw Jupiter. Who could be in his 30s today. And the part were Argus, no the entire world is in ruins. Jupiter's last words before leaving the dream are that "she" is coming. Who does he mean by "she?" Is there an enemy that Jupiter and his team have been running from? Is this why they've been faking their deaths this whole time? What other secrets has he been holding all this time? How would his parents felt if they found out that he's alive but not as who he used to be?

Maybe if I can go back to sleep. I'll bet I can speak to Jupiter again. Thought Neptune. Why was he playing dead this whole time?

Weiss came out with a swag bag in her hand. "Sorry it took so long. Took a lot of lien to purchase this thing." She said. Neptune turned to her as she showed him a hoodie that matches his eyes. She thought he would like it. "Um...thanks?" He scratched the back of his head in awkwardness, although he is not one to be rude towards women. So he took the hoodie and puts it on. After this, he puts his goggles over his eyes to not be further recognized. Much to Weiss' joy that he's taking it. "We should be away from public for a while. Who knows who's been watching anyway?" Weiss suggested.

"I just need to see some people first." Neptune told Weiss.

"Are you sure, there's a chance we could've been caught at this rate." Weiss hesitates. But Neptune insisted that it's really important. So they took a ride to Mistral, where he moved after Jupiter had Neptune to unlock his semblance. Since he couldn't stand seeing water in Argus, he lived in the inlands of the Capital. Where there's a fascination of the art, fashions, and culture. But one known fact about the place is the secret black marketing, that is another thing they are fully aware of. "Neptune, where are we going?" He leads Weiss to a house near the mountain where the falls are behind it. She grew tired of climbing on the rocks to their destination. Especially when hiding in a hoodie.

18 years ago.

Neptune is in Argus beach standing next to his father, Saturn, as Jupiter walks into the water for his first dip. "Watch your brother, closely, Neptune. And you'll see what it means for survival." Saturn instructed wisely. Jupiter's lower body have descend into the depths. He then dove into it. Neptune at the moment grew worried that his brother would drown. But Saturn knew that he would survive.

"Dad, we need to get him out. He won't last long down there." Neptune tugged into his leg, begging. But he just stood there, looking at the sight seriously.

"No, we need to wait a but longer." Neptune then saw the spot where his brother dived in, burbling. And the water arose like the fountain. The water blew into the fog. It was steam. There are no longer waves spreading to shore. Then drops of water came down like rain. Causing Neptune to be covering his top head. As he hates getting wet. There was a person walking through the mist. Both father and son stare at it closely. Jupiter has emerged back to the surface. Neptune becomes amazed that his brother have unlocked his semblance. "How's that?" Jupiter smirked.

"That was so awesome, bro!" Neptune cheered throwing his hands up. Saturn nodded, a sign that he's proud of him. But he is also unwilling to put his children at risk as a means to unlock semblances. Then two girls showed up walking passed Neptune and Saturn towards Jupiter, their eyes widened and sparkled seeing Jupiter.

"That is so amazing, Jupiter!"

"Gosh, not only that you're handsome. But also very endurable, and strong!" In a mixture of screaming and giggling. Jupiter said nothing and walked back into the house. But looks back at the girls and winked at them. "Ahh!" They screamed excitedly.

Can Jupiter get any more cooler? Thought Neptune.

In the present.

Neptune knocks the door. Taking a deep breathe while Weiss stood behind him. "Are you okay?" Weiss asked.

"Yeah, just need a bit of consultation." The door opened by a woman with lavender hair, a red causal sweater and a long skirt. Black heels. Reading glasses above his head. "Hey. How are you?" Her eyes became startled, she then grabbed an umbrella thinking he's an intruder to smack. "Ahh! Intruders!" Neptune then caught the umbrella before she can hit, yanking it off her hands. "Geez, Mom! It's only me!" Neptune exclaimed removing his goggles from his eyes. Something that his mother have recognized for a long time since her sons went to Haven. While leaving the hoodie on his hair. Lydia pulls Neptune into her arms, sighing in relief.

"My baby boy." She said. While Neptune hugs back. "Lydia! What's wrong?!" A man with blue hair, and eyes, just like Neptune's. Only older. Still he looks more like in his 30s or 40s, and somewhat healthy. "Son, is that you?" He asked. Neptune nodded. "Hey, Dad." His father Saturn then turned to Weiss. "Oh, who is this lovely young lady?" Saturn asked. Making Neptune nervous as they thought for what it looks like. But before Weiss could answer. Saturn offers them to get inside. "You know what, why don't you two come inside? We'll talk on the way." He then looks out left and right. It seems he was aware for what is going on when his son informed him that he'll be taking a mission when he returned to Argus. And closed the door. Afterwards he shuts down the curtains, and windows to cover and blind spots. All four are sitting on the loveseats.

"I supposed you already knew what was going on, right?" Neptune asked.

"Your mother and I saw the news. We never thought this would've happened." Said Saturn. "What happened while you're on Poseidon Island?"

"We were so worried when we heard you left your team. We thought you couldn't make it on your own." Said Lydia, holding Saturn's hand. "We tried calling you, but you wouldn't answer."

"Oh yeah, about that. Weiss and I have to destroy our scrolls to keep them from tracking us." Explained Neptune.

"What really happened-" Neptune was interrupted when Weiss gave them the full explanation.

"Forgive me for the interruption, Mr. and Mrs. Vasilias, my name is Weiss. What actually happened was that my sister is the general of the Atlas Militia and she assumed your son was responsible for the embargo sinking because of some DNA evidence. But he doesn't know any of this, and I don't believe he did it. You see, we ran into each other in a mission to search for the Thunderbolts. I apologize that this happened to him." Weiss explained. She expected her to at least ask her for why she didn't try to talk to her sister out of assumptions. But instead, Lydia gave her a genuine smile.

"No need to apologize, we understand." Said Lydia kindly. "Why don't you join us for dinner? You must be very tired coming all this way."

"Oh, let me help you." Weiss offered.

"No, no. I can handle it." Lydia insisted.

"Mom, why don't you and Weiss go ahead? I need some time alone with Dad." Neptune asked. They left for the kitchen to give them time to catch up with each other. Neptune sat next to him. They were in silence at first. Neptune looking at the window, which is covered in curtains. Saturn looks down to the floor. Seeing his offspring fully grown. Reminding him of his oldest son, whom Neptune thought his father is aware that he turned up somehow. Saturn looked at a family photo, there was him, Lydia, Jupiter, Ceres, another boy and a girl. And an infant Neptune. "You know, you almost look like your brother." He said seeing the resemblance between the brothers.

"Yeah. Did Ceres told you?" Neptune asked.

"She did. I saw the footage and the man looks like him." Saturn replied. "I don't know if I should be happy he's alive, or disappointed for the fact that he has joined the Thunderbolts?" Mixed feelings ran into his skin. Brushing his hair with the tip of his fingers. "Still, I don't know if it's him." Neptune looks down in shame, still thinking about the accident. Saturn could tell he's still can't get this off his head. "Still thinking about what happened that day?" He asked.

"Do you ever stop to think about never using semblances again?" Neptune asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, after what happened to Jupiter. I told myself to never use it again. It's a reminder of that day. Since then, I never took a dip." Neptune shrugged as he hugged himself tightly. Shaking remembering about the accident. "It was stupid of me to follow him. Back then, I couldn't control it." Saturn placed his hand on his left shoulder to calm him down.

"You were only young when this happened. You know it was an accident." Saturn assured him. But Neptune denied that it was an accident to begin with. "How could you be so forgiving after what happened today?!" He covered his eyes as tears once again hit him. Saturn never saw him cry in a long time, he always puts up a smile. To make things look like he has gotten over it. But nothing replaces a brother he looked up to so much. "I am nothing but a coward. Even if I'm a man...it doesn't make fears go away."

"There was nothing you could've done to save him. But as a father, it was my job to protect you and your siblings. But after the accident. I felt like it was my fault. Our semblances are part of the lineage. But I didn't think it wasn't fair to push all of you into the water. However, I don't condone for what your brother did to unlock your semblance. But I am proud that he only did it, because he believed in you. So did I." He hugged his son to assure him. Weiss eavesdropped to see them embracing. Looking back at what his mother told her.

"Ever since he was four, Jupiter only did it for his own survival." Said Lydia "The saddest thing is, even after attending Haven and Vacuo. He was still scared of the water. When I first met Saturn, he was also afraid of the water. It took us some time together to help him get over it." Lydia recapped her precious memories with her husband. "Jupiter has been very attentive to Neptune. We were working overnight, it wasn't fair to our children. But Jupiter insisted on babysitting them."

"That sounded like my sister. She would take care of me when no one else couldn't. She was like my only family when our parents and brother would always have a turmoil in the manor." Weiss adds.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. Want to know the secret? I have to put my father in jail for doing something dumb. Thanks to my mother." Weiss said.

"Well, let me know if you need a lawyer. Cause I am one." Lydia smiled. "I seriously have strong distaste of men who does worse. Which is why I studied law."

"You and me both."

"By the way, that new girlfriend of yours seems nice." Saturn said, making Neptune blushed.

"D-dad! It's not like that!" He denies. Hearing this made Weiss giggled. Seeing them together made Weiss realized that she wanted this since she was younger. Having good memories with her family had her father not treated her, Winter, her mother, or her brother badly. But now, she has to focus on the present and future. Being on Neptune's side to overcome the challenges waiting for them.

Later they're on a table enjoying dinner. Having Teriyaki and rice. Including sushi and salmon. "So is Ceres coming home, tonight?" Neptune asked.

"She's busy on her work for a while now. Ceres had been working in Vale to treat the wounded Huntsmen." Replied Lydia. "She said she'll probably be there long before we knew it."

"That's a bummer. Even us huntsmen have to endure all this." Neptune sighed, chopping down the food on his plate. Weiss was about to grab some ice tea, but Neptune pours the cup for her and placed it on her hands. But when he did, her hand was placed on his. Making her face warm. Same happened to Neptune. Then Lydia nudged at Weiss. "You know, my son is quite the gentleman. Just like his father." She winks.

"Dah! Alright, we seriously need to talk about this, Mom!" Neptune exclaimed rubbing his hair in embarrassment.

#iceberg rwby #Icy Seas #neptune vasilias #weiss schnee #rwby fanfic #Arctic Ocean #weiss x neptune

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caddy-whump-us · 4 years

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For the up close and personal ask game 💖 💗 💞 💕 💝 ( and the black heart emoji included cause I can't find the emoji) please?

💖 Have any of your WIPs helped you through a difficult time in your life?

I don’t think any of my current WIPs have helped me through a difficult time, but I do know that certain OCs have. Julian, for instance, has been with me since at least college (for the record, I graduated some time ago; I am not a minor at all). And he and his variations have been something I can turn to when the real world is tough or boring or stressful. He’s kind of my ideal self–no, not “kind of,” he is my ideal self. So when I get to feeling overwhelmingly tall, gangly, unfeminine, broad-shouldered, glasses-wearing, bad-teeth, bad-skin ugly, I can slide into my ideal self in my head and it gets me along (somehow). It’s like a vacation from a reality I’m not very happy with.

💗 Share a single sentence from each of your WIPs that you think best describes the relationships you most cherish in real life.

I actually can’t do this. The relationships I most cherish in real life are not ones I like to include in the things I write. The most important relationships for me are with my parents and my brother, but I write whump. So the odds are that these relationships will be broken or blocked in the course of the story–as in, kidnapped character with worried parents. And the idea of worried parents isn’t enjoyable for me because it makes me think of my own parents and, yeah, it’s just not the kind of wickedly gleeful fun that I like in whump.

It does come up! But when it has come up, I find myself trying to mitigate it somehow. The whumper won’t plant evidence that whumpee was killed, only that he was abducted, so they can hold out hope… Or I’ll kind of gloss over it entirely. I’m working on how to make this happen for Gravesby/Riddle when he winds up at Box Dreams. I mean, he’s got parents! And a sister! What then???

That said, there are certain relationships that I put into things that I don’t have in real life–close IRL friendships and romantic relationships, to be specific. I am forever putting those into fictional situations because it lets me, the writer, experience something of those relationships (in an admittedly idealized way) when I can’t (and probably won’t) experience them in real life. Julian&Avery have been my surrogate for IRL romantic love for literally years, which sounds sad, sure, but I’m just not the kind of person anyone is likely to fall in love with, but at least I can imagine my ideal self and an ideal relationship.

Okay, that got a little to deep, but you get it? Maybe?💞 List 3 tropes that you feature in your WIPs and explain why they’re important to you as a person.

This is awkward because so many of my tropes are whump tropes and it’s a little weird to be like “Well, ‘tied up’ is important to me because…”

However! There are several recurring tropes that seem to indicate ongoing challenges for me. So that’s why they’re “important” to me.

Characters caught in an anonymous and uncaring system that’s so much bigger than them and so much out of their control. That’s how I feel about…life, pretty much. It’s like nothing in my life is under my control. I’m at the mercy of systems far beyond my control or even my understanding.

Mute or silenced characters. I can speak and hear, but I often feel like I’m not heard or taken seriously.

Injuries are a pretty obvious symbolic representation of being hurt. I guess that goes without saying.

A bonus! I’ve been a fan of kidnapping stories since I was a kid. And I think, in a weird way, they’re like an “escape.” As in, a character is taken away from what they know but in that happening, they’re also escaping what they know. It’s like a dark adventure in the world of fiction. (I felt the same way about stories where characters run away from home and have adventures.)

🖤 Do you and your OCs have any backstory elements in common?

No, not really. Like I said above, my OCs are idealized versions of me or idealized people in my idealized life. So since my life is pretty fucking boring (no really, it is), their lives and backstories are all quite interesting and dramatic. They have danger! And adventure! And excitement! And love!

I guess in their most tame version, the one where the ensemble cast are all students at the same university, there are probably a few more backstory parts in common. Maybe not that many, but since some of my OCs in that version grew up, you know, in a middle-class suburban house with two parents and maybe a sibling, we’d have that much in common. Otherwise, nah, they’re so much cooler than me.

💕 Have any of your WIPs (or the research you’ve done for them) changed the way you view the world around you?

I’m kind of going to go with “no” on this one. That said, I have learned a lot of interesting things in the course of researching things–everything from when certain tortures became common to what 19th century stables looked like to traditional vampire myths to foods and recipes on down to clothing and individual rooms. So that’s been interesting. I don’t think it’s changed the way I view the world around me? Mostly because, lol, I work in a library so research is what I do, but it has been interesting.

💝 Are any of your OCs based off of people in your own life?

I used to do this all. The. Time. But it was usually out of anger or spite. They were revenge stories and I’d make the person who had hurt me into a villain character.

The problem was that that doesn’t make for a very interesting villain. There’s no motivation there. It’s just me being angry (so who’s really the villain?).

I have tried to add some friends into stories before, but it didn’t really work out either.

Admittedly, there might be some traits in common between characters and people I know? But that wasn’t a conscious decision.

How’s that do for you, Anon?

#whump adjacent #meme #noises from cat #chatter #ocs

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haru-sen · 5 years

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Out of curiosity, why do you write as a hobby. What do you feel when writing? Do you see the whole plot first and details later?

You’re about to get a whole ass answer complete with childhood trauma. Mild trigger warning for child abuse?

So, tumblr ate the first draft of this and I’m annoyed. Today has been very annoying. But I digress. The easiest thing to talk about is the process. I start everything with a small idea. It can be a few lines of dialogue, a character prototype, or a “what if” question. One of the first scenes I thought of for IAL was the “Jack making bad sandwiches” and Lucky asking “Are we poor?” And I realized I really wanted to write that relationship dynamic. Obviously that scene came much later in the story, but it was one of the first building blocks. And then, I have to take that idea and build it into something that can stand on its own. Because alone, it’s just the ramblings of a maniac. Great, some OC made a joke about Jack’s cooking skills? Who really cares? Well, you do, by that point in IAL. (I assume you do if you made it that far...)

Feng’s an AU version of my main character from a novel series I really need to rework. Spoiler: the conceptual question was, “what happens when heroes/adventurers settle down and have kids? What kind of family life do they have?” And then it turned into an in-depth examination of unhealthy family dynamics and the difficulty of being halfway between worlds both metaphorically and sometimes literally. Second spoiler: Just because you’re an awesome monster-killer/mercenary duo, doesn’t mean you’re going to be great parents.

So it’s usually some kind of idea, that I just keep building on till it becomes something that could be a more concrete story. But it takes time to foment. I’d been two months into the Overwatch fandom before I started writing IAL. I had all kinds of ideas, mostly for the Angst!AU and the current timeline. I’d written a few teaser scenes for that, but on a whim, started IAL instead. And it grew so much faster than I expected.

So it’s taken me awhile, but I’ve gotten to the point with ideas (and drafts!) where I can be excited about the shininess of a new thing, but also know that I’m really going to have to work on it to make it better. It’s rarely just “poof!” and “awesome.” I have to take an extra step to ask what makes this idea/character/scene stand out from everything else that is out there. What am I really adding? And you know, sometimes stuff isn’t better/different/greater than everything else out there. But it’s still enjoyable. And I’ll take that too.

When I write, it’s planning and creativity. On good days, I’m entranced in what I’m doing, really planning/living the scene in my head, and really pleased with my progress. (Heavily focused daydreaming?) On bad days, it’s a slog to stay on track, nothing feels good/inspired, and I feel like a hack. I’ve learned that how I feel while creating doesn’t actually guarantee the quality of the work. When I go back to edit, sometimes the stuff is really good, sometimes it’s not, and the stuff I write when I feel bad can actually be really good and vice versa. But it always needs to be edited.

On a side note, all my internet friends groups I made because of writing. Sometimes we shared fandoms, but it was always the writing/reading that connected us. (Sometimes, that was bad, because writers are neurotic and sometimes egotistical. Shocking, I know.) Put us all together and the insecurities were numerous. :P

Now, onto the heavy shit. In my case, I don’t know if I can call writing a “hobby.” It’s a coping mechanism. I know that sounds a little pretentious, but bear with me. I would write even if there was no one else left to read it, because I’ve grown my brain in that direction. It’s easier for me to work out shit on paper than it is to talk about. (Or at least, I can make it sound cooler and more coherent on paper than just putting it in stream of consciousness sort of blather.)

I started writing when I was 12. I have loved reading all my life, but up till then never considered myself that creative. I did some fiction writing before that, never very seriously and never with any intention to be a writer. It might have never caught my interest, but I have immigrant parents who had good intentions and terrible parenting skills.

In middle school, things were pretty terrible at home. I didn’t have outlets. I will flat out say they were abusive and crying got the response “I’ll give you something to cry about.” I was kind of crybaby when I was five (yes, even for a five year old). I had an excellent poker face by eleven.

I used to draw, but I wasn’t very good at it, and my parents didn’t encourage it, because I wasn’t very good, so what was the point? (Yes, I know that logic is wrong, but that’s what I got told.) And also, even if I was good, I wasn’t going to make any money. So don’t bother. I wasn’t allowed to play sports. I had no musical talent or inclination. I wasn’t really allowed to leave the house very often. If I wanted to go anywhere, I had to take my younger sisters (four and eight years younger than me) with me, because I was the oldest and what kind of sister was I if I went out with people and left them at home? (Ahem. More bad logic, I know.) No, they were hardcore serious about this. And if they didn’t want me to go somewhere, they’d just say that they didn’t trust those people with my sisters. And let’s not even get into the power dynamic with my sisters and how that worked. It wasn’t pretty, for any of us.

My parents, like the Asian stereotype goes, were obsessive on schoolwork. So if I was doing “homework,” they left me alone. And if I wanted to use the computer, I had better be doing homework. I started journaling, for both therapeutic and legal reasons. It was depressing as fuck recording the nonfiction events of my life. One day, I wrote a little fanfiction scene from Sailor Moon in crappy script format. It was so terrible. But I liked it. I reread it so many times. It was empowering. So I wrote another one. And then started a whole damn series. It was baaaaad. I filled multiple notebooks with this saga, in pencil, so it’s probably illegible now, though I have them in trunk somewhere. I wrote a more polished (but still bad) version for a Sailor Moon fanfic archive and was thrilled when people actually read it and kind of liked it. (...they had terrible taste, lol) But that’s how I passed the time. At home. At school. I just started writing when I was upset, or bored, or just because. It was melodramatic, self-indulgent, and a coping mechanism. My teachers encouraged it. (English teachers usually liked me.) And gradually, I got better at it. I stopped writing scripts, started writing proper stories. My characters became better, more fleshed out. I expanded into original fiction.

Now seriously, I’m not going to say that I don’t have issues because of it. But sharing this stuff doesn’t hurt me. It’s uncomfortable in the sense of “oversharing with people you don’t know super well should be uncomfortable...if only the person in the cubicle beside me would learn that.” It’s mostly just weird. So there’s no need for obligatory comforting comments. It’s cool. I talk to my parents every few months in a civil fashion, once a month if I’m unlucky. And it’s not anything to brag about, but there are boundaries in place and I’m good. So kind of a happy outcome.

But yeah, that’s why I started writing. It was that or kill real people.

*insert serial killer joke because I'm too tired*

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feadae · 6 years

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So I’m in the choir for a community production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame musical (my first community theater show, now that I think on it--!!!) and I’ve loved almost every second of it so far.

The only seconds I haven’t loved are the seconds when we rehearse (SPOILERS) Esmeralda’s death.

For those of you who haven’t seen the show (live or bootleg - I also am poor and nowhere near the coasts; I don’t judge), Quasi’s just poured molten lead on the square at Notre-Dame and he comes back into the bell tower, where he laid Esmeralda after taking her away from her pyre, and he’s being his heartbreakingly adorable self and she has a short reprise of “Top of the World.” That finishes, and Quasi tells Esmeralda, “Can stay inside here forever!” Coughing, voice weakening, she replies, “I don’t think...forever. You’re such a good friend, Quasimodo.” He smiles and says, “Yes. Your friend.” And Esmeralda dies and it’s heartwrenching, but this is where I stop, because I’ve reached the part that bugs me.

Every time our Esmeralda says, “You’re such a good friend, Quasimodo,” at least one person (usually more) in the cast and/or choir says something scolding Esmeralda for “friendzoning” Quasi on her deathbed. They’re never serious; it’s clearly a joke, but it still bugs me and I’m having trouble articulating why it bugs me, so if you don’t mind I’m going to try to figure out words here.

First off, the whole concept of “friendzoning” as a bad thing bugs me, partly because of its association with Nice Guy culture, which--ew--but also because of its implication that friendship is inferior to romance and/or sex.

It’s not.

Especially for Quasimodo, y’all! Poor boy’s lived twenty whole years with only Frollo for human contact and only the gargoyles’ voices in his head for friends. He’s grown up loving Frollo like a father, but that love hasn’t been returned, and on some level, I think he can tell--his body language whenever Frollo’s onstage with him, as well as the fact that he addresses Frollo as “Master” (probably at Frollo’s instruction), are indicators that he’s afraid of/intimidated by Frollo, and I’m sorry, but if you’re afraid of your parental figure(s), then they’re not doing their job very well, and they’re certainly not your friend(s). And they probably don’t consider you theirs.

All that to say, Quasimodo hasn’t had a friend his whole life, nor has anyone ever told him anything positive about him, so for Esmeralda to tell him he’s a good friend to her is h u g e. She is affirming that he is a person, that he is a good person, and that she’s grateful for all that he’s done for her in the few weeks he’s known her.

I put up a mild protest when it happened today (it had to be quick and quiet, because y’know rehearsal, and I didn’t want to ruffle too many feathers--I’m really good at ruining jokes and bringing down the mood), and the person next to me--still with that joking demeanor, but defending the joke--said that Esmeralda “friendzoned” Quasi in that he loved her and made his love known and she rejected him, chose Phœbus instead, and called Quasi her friend on her deathbed (the person asserted that the “dying friendzone” was worse than a normal one, because there was no chance for Esmeralda to change her mind).

And, like, yeah, he loved her and made his love known--wouldn’t you, too, if you’d lived your whole life only experiencing half-assed, bare-bones “kindness” from an authority figure who constantly told you that you were a deformed, ugly monster, unfit to even leave the building you grew up in, and then when you do leave and your worst fears are realized and people scorn and abuse you for looking different, this person you admire not only tells everyone to stop hurting you, but also defends you, helps you, and apologizes for inadvertently starting the whole ordeal?

I’d probably fall in love on the spot, too.

I mean, I’ve been very lucky to grow up with a family who loves me and tells me so all the time, and I’ve had friendships come and go and come to stay, and still I very nearly fall in love all the time with people who are decent human beings to me. In this very show, when the cast lets me linger on the edge of their conversations and occasionally contribute, I get this thrill of “holy shit I’m one of the gang,” and if someone goes so far as to address me by name? ??? I short-circuit. They know my name! These people are so much cooler than I’ll ever be, and so much better at being functioning, social human beings, but they know my name and they use it and I’m a person! It sounds strange and made-up when I write it down, but it’s seriously what goes on in my head. When people I admire take the half-second it takes to say my name.

And I didn’t grow up isolated and abused in a bell tower.

Back to the other points the person made: Esmeralda chose to pursue a relationship with Phœbus, yes, but she didn’t outright reject Quasimodo. She looked out for him and remained his friend, telling him she’d help him when he needed it (remember, that’s why she gave him the amulet map to the Court of Miracles--as a thank-you for him helping her hide Phœbus, she gave Quasi the amulet and told him, “And if you ever need help, come find me in the Court of Miracles”). Even when he asked her to stay with him and hide in the crypts under Notre-Dame, she made sure that he understood that she wasn’t turning him down because she didn’t like him, she was turning him down to protect him and herself (“I can’t, Quasimodo. It would be too dangerous--not just for me, but for you, too.”).

And I don’t think she chose Phœbus because he’s conventionally pretty. I don’t remember who posted it, but I saw a post on here (it might have been a quote, for all I know/remember) that said something along the lines of “Frollo saw Esmeralda as a devil. Quasimodo saw her as an angel. Phœbus saw her as Esmeralda. So she chose Phœbus.” That says it better and more concisely than I can. Frollo was never an option for Esmeralda romantically, so we’re leaving him at the door. And Quasimodo is an absolute sweetheart and loyal and kind to the core, but because he grew up so isolated and maltreated, he idolized the first person to show him true kindness, which wouldn’t have ended well even if Esmeralda had survived and had chosen to pursue a romance with Quasi--putting people on pedestals isn’t healthy for either person involved; at some point, whether knowingly (I doubt it, in this case) or otherwise, Esmeralda would have failed Quasi in some way--not because she doesn’t care, but just because she’s human, and humans can’t be perfect--and it would have crushed him. It’s not good for Esmeralda, either--through no fault of his own (see again the twenty-year isolation point: he doesn’t know any better), Quasi is basically objectifying her. This isn’t to say he has bad intentions, or that his love isn’t real--he’s not objectifying Esmeralda the way Frollo does--it’s just to say that Esmeralda recognized that in the end, neither she nor Quasi would be happy in a romantic relationship with each other, but she saw that he desperately needed and deserved a friend, so she became his friend. Phœbus initially compares Esmeralda to an angel in “Rhythm of the Tambourine,” but if we’re being honest I think it was just for the sake of the contrast to Frollo’s line “She dances like the Devil himself” when Phœbus meets her and talks to her, he begins to fall in love with the real her, the one who is trading witty remarks with him and also fiercely defending herself, her principles, her people, and Quasimodo, whom she’s just met maybe fifteen minutes ago. And her curiosity about this soldier whom she senses is not an orders-following machine but has a strong moral compass and who really listens to what she has to say turns to love while she has time to think about it, and they both act on it in “Tavern Song,” when they have a witty conversation that masks their true feelings but they’re each testing the waters to see if the other feels the way they do and when each has confirmed it, they kiss and it’s actually great.

Esmeralda loves both Phœbus and Quasimodo--she loves Phœbus romantically, which is arguably what he needed (since I sense that his “Rest and Recreation” self was a bit of a front and he needed someone to see past that), and she loves Quasimodo platonically, which is certainly what he needed--and let’s be real, Esmeralda needed both. It’s established that she loses friends quickly, probably because of how determined she is to right the wrongs she sees, so for both Phœbus and Quasimodo to admire that trait and to admire her is wonderful, because it opens doors for Esmeralda that were probably closed for quite some time. (Which sounds opportunistic and calculating when I write it down, but I think it’s true, and I’m not using it to diminish the emotional value of these relationships--I’m just trying to figure things out.)

And we’ve already covered that the “friendzone” is a ridiculous concept, but the “dying friendzone”? When else was she going to tell Quasi that he was a good friend? She was just getting to know him for most of the show, and she was away from him for huge chunks of it, too--her last minutes, dying in Quasi’s arms, were her last chance to help Quasi understand that he wasn’t the monster he’d grown up being told he was (and I’d like to see you try to say more than six words when you’ve just been nearly burned at the stake and are dying from excessive smoke inhalation).

Please let me know if there’s anything you think I missed; there are several points here that I’m not 100% solid on, and I might have expressed any of this quite poorly, because I’m tired.

TL;DR: I’ve been stewing over a throwaway joke people made in Hunchback rehearsal for approximately Way Too Long and needed to put my thoughts down somewhere

#hunchback of notre dame #cali.txt #wall of text

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twelvesignsrp · 6 years

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congratulations logan, aries is now dane duclos with the faceclaim santiago segura !

Character Sign: Aries

Character name: Dane Duclos Birthday: 04/01/1997 Sexuality: Straight-Curious Gender: Male Moon Sign: Capricorn Faceclaim: Santiago Segura

Fire Absorption: The ability to absorb fire and utilize it in some way. It’s fairly straight forward, like fire negation, but I like the idea of his sign being under the house of fire that instead of destroying or dismissing fire—he could instead absorb it. I imagine him quench accidental fires, magical explosions, or generally take fire in a way to enhance him. Personally the only enhancement I’d want is when he absorbs fire he has a stamina boost. Like a extra shot of espresso or something. I know most absorption powers can be too wonky making the person invinicble the more than can absorb but for me… I just want it to be a leveling ability that can minor cancel problems while being minorly effective or influential for Dane.

Sub power—Thermal Control:The power is broad stating you can control temperature, lack there of aka cold or ice or an increased amount heat. Personally I can see Dane having the ability to do both but for now he can’t. Perhaps a few more months after Aries season he might, for now his powers are that of cold manipulation on the scale of Thermal control. Much like the beginning his absorption made the room feel cooler or the fact that lack of heat producing a cooling element—that’s only manifested cold/ice. Dane’s powers now can produce levels of ice, cooling the air, and generally lowering temperatures around him until a freezing point. It’s problematic since the more energy he uses to decrease other people’s temperatures or areas, the more his crave to absorb heat increases. It’s a double edged sword really.

What do they study: Architecture, I like the idea of him being in the department or school of design at Durham. For him architecture is this unlimited space to create something long lasting, to have a physical imprint on history. In high school is when he learned that creating homes to bridges, to the newest or most advance buildings gave him this passion he never expected to have. Before that his family assumed he’d go into law or politics, but the way he spoke about design made them lenient on letting him explore that.

Biography: (TW: Abortion, TW: Pregnancy )

Etched from the finest marble, details were in the hands of your master on that day since you would become their perfect creation. Son of a diplomat and a lawyer, he was shoved into a light he had to learn to soak up. For Dane, every moment from the age of nine until now has had a plan, a certain design to be finished out. His schooling, his friends, down to his extracurricular choices would pave the way to what he thought was his goals. His parents weren’t that overbearing as most would think, they were firm but supportive yet in the eyes of their son they were two of the hardest people to make proud. His mind clouded love as a test to pass. He took strides in everything he did to be the best—to climb the rankings as the one to look at. In his heart he believed he could do anything, that all the compliments and congratulations as a child were fabricated into the crown he wears on his head this day. He’d be royalty, he’d be the golden ichor that the gods spoke of.

He’d be unstoppable.

However one thing almost derailed that for him, the outlier to his future—the one girl that would have halted it all. Lillian Alcott was the one thing that he never expected. She was an angel with a vixen’s heart, she spoke in riddles, and caused every minute that Dane was with her to be complicated but intriguing. The straight forward, overachiever had met the one that didn’t fit into his world—which then became the one thing that couldn’t be unhinged from it either. For three years they dated, loved, and spent every moment working a way to have her in his life forever. Days would become months and Dane’s design for himself grew into a design for them. However The Fates were always fickle women, as it seemed he was destined for something else, as a choice; no a forced decision would cause the two to break. It was four months before graduation, before Dane would head to Durham on early scholarship and Lilian would attend a university close to him, when they found out she was pregnant. The news was tough at first but he grew to love the idea—as such Lilian grew on him. Once again he began to edit his plans for the future, until his parents got hold of what was happening. “How could you? Were you even thinking? You are too young!”; They’d argue and try to berate him onto their view points, yet Dane stood his ground. He wanted the child, wanted her, and didn’t give a damn about how he’d do it all—but he would. Disappointingly though, his parents with their wealth and connections would make that reality into a fantasy.

Graduation rolled around and Dane found himself alone across the stage. Months before Lilian would have found herself up state, losing the only reason that would tether their lives together any longer, and a promise to never come back at the price of his father’s bank account. Broken, confused, and bitter he tried to live out his last few weeks in his home town. with his family acting like nothing happened, until he could escape to college. To a fresh start. That was when he promised himself that nothing—no one—would cause him to give up everything he wanted ever again. His parents were distant from him, he continued to excel at what he did with pride and hard work, yet as every superficial accomplishment he gained his heart grew harder and harder. He began to replace dates with screwing others, replacing committed to casual, and focused on a life he thought he needed….a life solely about him and his ambitions. An empty one at that….

Five interesting facts about your character:

Dane is multilingual as he knows Canadian-French, Arabic, English, and Spanish

At a young age he was the youngest fencer to be nationally ranked in the top ten in over 30 years. He was fourth in Canada before the age of sixteen, and won several championships.

Thanks to his father’s position he has a clean record, not even a speeding ticket. Thanks to the little more than a decade of diplomatic immunity he and his family received. Dane is very much like a golden boy or boy-scout, cause he only pushes the envelope just enough to not break it but get what he wants.

He’s allergic to pears and white chocolate. Something he hated as a kid but now barely affects him. Though at times have asked girls to not where certain perfumes cause even the scent of pears makes him sneeze

Is a horror junkie and fanatic, being able to quote almost all the scream and Jason movies by heart.

Character Quote: “Got hands like an ocean, push you out, pull you back in”

If your character had a patronus what would it be? and why?: Probably would be a hawk. Hawks are clever creatures but their precision to detail and focus is what makes me feel like Dane would inevitably muster up this corporal sign. Focused, executing plan lethally and effectively….yeah, reminds me of my boy a lot.

WRITING SAMPLE

“God damn it Imogen can you just shut up!” he screamed, causing his magic to lunge behind the girl—igniting, torching the lamp post. It was a long night and being forced with the girl caused his blood to finally boil over. At first spark, the fire caused her to jump on her heels and away from the accident.

“What the fuck Dane, control yourself.” she replied, like a viper, while her eyes cut deeply into him.

Seeing her judge him like that almost caused him to scorch another object around them, yet he took a breath instead. Almost as hot as he felt he exhaled while turning away. You’d think both signs, both ruled under their elemental house would have had a stronger bond—yet it was opposite. Their hearts and soul might burn with the same passion fueled by fire, but their minds were too differential.Sporadic, popular, care free…a child through and through, while Dane’s was fabricated, steely focused on the next task, aggressive. They were frankly oil and water, hell even gasoline and an open flame. Combustible, volatile, the two’s presence could cause others around them to feel the pressure and heat from the fire and vigor they could muster. Dane’s glances were still out and away from her, but with another breath he turned to look at her—more calculated and reserved. “I am under control, but I don’t think you understand how important it is to realize what’s happening to us; to all of us.” he started, her smug grin only making him want to smear it across her features. “This isn’t just ooooh we are witches or some shit, this isn’t fucking Harry Potter…what we have, what we can do!” his hand pointing behind her as the post was barely smoldering at that point. “We are dangerous….so fucking grow up.”

Would his words change her? Would they form chains of reason that would bind her to their world and not whatever world she vacationed to? Probably not but since the twelve had met things have been escalating, their powers were magnificent yet deeply strong. Some were more passive than the others but like Dane’s they were active,aggressive and made him worry. Was he the only one taking things seriously? Since most have been acting like they were still college students, still going to Frat parties, and cramming for studies. However his mind was clouded, his plans were altered, and this architect needed things to go as he envisioned them.

“Dane seriously, you need to stop worrying. All you do is bitch, brood, or suck any fun out of everything. This is a gift not some responsibility, so worry about that than all of us. You aren’t our babysitter.” she responded with such an air that it teetered or the truth and arrogance, “Even so, I think you are the one that needs more control.” smiling before she walked passed him and back into the party.

ANYTHING ELSE?

My favorite colour is slate.

#accepted #aries

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venusparker · 7 years

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dinner date ↬ p.p

prompt: “i know your mom hates me” (either one of them) for tom holland, thanks

warnings: cursing, fluff

notes: i did a whole answer to this anon on why i choose not to write about real people as themselves rather than their characters that they play! but thank you for this request :) please send in more and i hope you enjoy

Peter rarely left Queens, unless it was important like the “retreat” to Berlin, or Aunt May wanted to take them on vacation. Usually, he stayed in his neighborhood, not too far from everything he grew up with and around. It was pitiful (Ned’s words, not his), but it was nice and he hadn’t ever really felt the need to go out as himself to just eat somewhere fancy in Times Square or Manhattan.

Tonight, however, was different.

He had never felt more uncomfortable in his own apartment. He was frantic, cleaning every crook and crevice, wishing that he somehow had the power to turn his kitchen into a gourmet fine dining area—maybe that would be more impressive.

It was dinner night. The dinner night that Peter had spent weeks stressing over, constantly babbling about it to May and Ned, and really, even Tony Stark—because he was that nervous and needed someone to talk to. He would constantly trip over himself, more than usual, trying to get his mind off it and calm down, struggling to keep his chill.

What do I wear, what do I say, oh, God, do I shake their hands?

Peter was a mess. He had known you for years, ever since school started, and he was one of your best friends—so why was he so sweaty? You were his girlfriend, one of the best friends he ever had, and it was as though he were meeting you for the first time.

He runs a hand through his hair before sighing and going over to the bathroom mirror to fix it again. It’s natural curl is showing from how much he’d been tugging at it anxiously, and he’s surprised his lip hadn’t yet bled from how much he’d bitten it.

“Peter,” Aunt May says, rolling her eyes at him and he gives her a distracted glance, “You look fine and [Y/N]’s parents will absolutely adore you. And with that adorable face? Who wouldn’t?”

“Oh, God,” Peter groaned, closing his eyes in embarrassment, “Please don’t say anything weird or mortifying. And definitely do not offer to show them baby pictures.”

Aunt May clicked her tongue as they both walked back to the living room, Peter bouncing off the hardwood floors. “Shame, guess I’ll have to put away all the albums again.”

The doorbell suddenly rings and Peter is dashing towards the door, his black sweater clinging onto his body for dear life. He goes to open it, but then pauses and takes a minute to register himself. Okay, Peter: be cool, be cool, don’t open the door too quick or else you’ll look like you’ve been waiting and that’s creepy.

He opens it slowly and sees you and your parents standing there. He instantly smiles as you gaze up at him and for a moment he forgets that he’s two seconds away from fully shitting his pants. He lets you all in as he watches Aunt May introduce herself to your parents.

“Wow, you clean up nice,” you compliment teasingly, grinning. You stayed back and Peter closed the door, shaking his head at you.

“Babe, that hurts, why do you sound so shocked?” He asks in mock disbelief and you two walk over to the table.

Both of you are whispering and you know it’s because he’s apprehensive. He wants to impress your parents, dazzle them, let them know that he’s perfect for you and that he’ll treat you right—but he doesn’t know how. You can tell by the expression on his face.

“Babe? Huh, you must be getting confident, Parker,” You tell him and his cheeks are pink instantly.

“Peter,” your mother says suddenly when Aunt May seats all of you and brings out the food Peter begged her to order from the five-star Italian delivery restaurant. “It’s good to see that you’re okay.”

Your eyes widen and Peter lifts a brow. “Pardon?”

“After the Washington Monument incident,” you add on quickly, glancing at your boyfriend. You turn to your parents, “Peter wasn’t there, thankfully. Remember, I told you I wasn’t either. We weren’t together in the same room, of course. I was on the ground with MJ, and yeah…”

Everyone begins eating and Peter shifts awkwardly in his seat. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to charm your parents with his wit and intellect, but nothing is coming out. And if something did, it’d only be his stammers.

“So, what’s been going on at school?” Aunt May asks, encouraging to clear the air. “[Y/N], your mom and dad told me about the volunteering you’ve been doing for service hours.”

You bite your tongue. Your parents loved to brag about you whenever they weren’t complaining. Peter lit up, turning to you, practically throwing you his undivided attention.

“School’s been great, really. After we won nationals, Flash just keeps bragging about how he rightfully deserved that trophy,” you start, and Peter looks at you and laughs.

“Flash couldn’t have won it even if he tried.”

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t even there,” you point out, rolling your eyes playfully. “You were off playing—”

“Playing what?” Your Dad joined in and you bit your lip at his authoritative tone.

He had the voice whenever he talked to Peter, or any boy that even looked at you for that matter. Your dad was probably the biggest ball of sunshine that ever existed, and to see him try and act like the bad cop to your mom’s good cop was ridiculous.

“Um, I was out…playing—” Peter stutters and you quickly rush in to save him.

“Zelda!”

The whole table looks to you and while Aunt May gives Peter confused look, your parents do the same to you. You bit a bite out of some pasta and took a sip of water, your hand finding Peter’s under the table. He squeezed and you shrugged at your parents.

“Peter wasn’t feeling well, which was unexpected, and he didn’t go to nationals. So he just played Zelda in his hotel room,” you reassured, lying through your teeth.

Who knows how your parents would react if you told them you were dating the masked hero by the name of Spider-Man? Sure, they probably wouldn’t believe you and laugh at your attempt to make your geeky (your dad’s words) boyfriend sound cooler, but on the off-chance they took you seriously—you’d probably never be allowed to see Peter again. At least not in the way you wanted.

“Peter has a tendency of being unpredictable,” Aunt May jokes with your parents and they actually laugh, making you think that this whole thing is actually going well.

Your heart would break if it didn’t, but right now you could only hope for the best.

Luckily, the adults became enveloped into their own conversation, bonding over how insatiable and complicated raising teenagers was. Apart from your father’s daggers at Peter (which were, at most, simply warning glares), you and him were unnoticed. You just couldn’t leave the dinner table.

“Crap, crap, crap,” Peter repeats over to you, “I think I’m going to pass out if your dad asks me another question. He’s so scary! You told me he was a huge nerd. Why’d you lie?”

You scoffed and hit him lightly on the chest (gaining another head-shake from your father).

“Peter, he literally gushes about the Avengers and Spider-Man all the time. He’s just not exactly comfortable with me dating so young. Not everyone is as cool as your aunt.”

“Please never call her cool again, her ego might blow through the roof,” Peter tells you and you chuckle. “But seriously, I think they hate me. They’re going to forbid you from seeing me and—yup, your mom? I know your mom hates me.”

“Yeah, okay, sure. That’s why she says that you’re handsome and smart all the time, right?” You confess to him, “Trust me, they like you.”

“Are you sure? Because I can clean up nicer, you know, and I can be funnier—I have a couple jokes that Ned and I have been working on—”

“Peter, stop! If you do tell a joke that was made up by you and Ned, then my parents will really hate you.”

He licks his lips nervously and huffs, “Gee, thanks.”

“They could never hate you, Peter. You’re…you. You’re adorable and sweet and kind. You’re our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. I mean, that’s pretty awesome,” you say, smiling at him. “Just don’t break my heart, Parker. Or else, they’ll have your head on a pike.”

He blushes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His phone suddenly rings, interrupting everyone’s conversation. He pulls out his phone and both of you can see the caller ID.

Happy Hogan.

“[Y/N]…” He whispers, ignoring the stares he’s getting from May and your mother and father.

You nod, “Peter, go. Just come back in one piece.”

He takes the call and goes to his room, leaving you alone at the table with three adults. You awkwardly take a bite out of Peter’s untouched dinner roll, chewing hesistantly.

“Thank you for having me over for dinner, Aunt May,” you acknowledge, trying to steer the topic away from the elephant in the room.

“What happened, is everything alright?” Your mom asks and Aunt May looks annoyed and disappointed. Your dad is picking at his food.

“Yeah, everything’s alright!” You said truthfully. You were more than okay with Peter’s frequent disappearances; it’s not like he couldn’t just refuse to help out and use his abilities for the common good. All you wanted was for him to be alive at the end of the day.

“Remember I told you about the Stark Internship he has,” you continued, watching your mom’s face light up with recollection of the memory. “"I told Dad about it too, but I don’t know if he was actually listening.”

Your dad looks up, “I wasn’t.”

May shakes her head. “I am so sorry, [Y/N]. I’ve talked to him about this whole internship thing and he just—do you want me to talk to him right now?”

You almost jump up. “No! No, it’s fine. Completely. Mom, Dad, we should get going now anyways, right? You both have work tomorrow and I’ve got homework. Thank you so much, May, I hope we can come over another time.”

Aunt May sighs, but lets the Peter thing go. “Of course, sweetheart! Come over anytime you like! And [Y/PARENTS’/N], it was glad to meet the both of you for the first time!”

You wait as your mom and dad return her affections, thanking her and giving her a small friendly hug. Despite you displaying full support, May still flashed you an apologetic and sympathetic look as she hugged you goodbye and shut the door. You couldn’t blame her; she still had yet to find out that the boy who she practically raised as her own son was constantly running into imminent danger.

As you walk to the car, thinking of how your boyfriend was currently saving lives and helping people, your mom gives you a concerned look.

“Do you know what that was about?” She questions and you take a moment to respond.

Peter in his suit flashes through your mind, and you shake your head.

“Nope. Not a clue.”

312 notes · View notes

stilinski-jpeg · 7 years

Text

The Void Inside Me (NSFW 18+)

A/N: This idea was sprouted by one of those ads we’re the two people are texting about something really agnsty or suspenseful and you have to download the app to see the whole story. I loved the idea so much and thought no one would be more suited for it than Void. I want to thank @writing-obrien for seriously helping me out with this when I was completely stumped. Also @celestial-writing because this fic would not be finished if it weren’t for her motivating me to push through up until the very end. And @sarcasticallystilinski too for all her feedback. I think they all edited this at some point too so thank you beautiful babes, I love you all more than most. Lastly, Koneko is Japanese for kitten so says google translater. I’m sorry if I got that wrong.

Warnings: Smut; choking.

Word Count: 6860

|Masterlist|

Remember when you were little and someone, whether it be your parents or your teacher, asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up? It was always a riveting question that shattered all boundaries of insightful questions. Well people would say things like: A doctor, a ballerina, or a pop star. Because when you're that young you don't grasp the reality of life and that more than likely you'd be in high school not doing any of the things you thought you’d be doing and working at failing clothing boutique or lame record shops that no one went too. Or like me you could be working at a local grocery store.

Being new to Beacon Hills, a lot of cooler jobs were taken. So I was landed with the only job available that would accommodate me with my school hours. So cashier girl is what I was formerly know as at school. Frustrating as it was, no one bother to learn my name properly. Different variations of the unprecedented nickname surfaced anywhere from girl to cashier. But not for Stiles.

No, Stiles Stilinski noticed me the second I walked into Beacon Hills High School. The halls were empty except from him when I pulled open the doors that morning. He was standing at his locker, staring aimlessly into it, when the sudden rush of outside light caught his attention. He squinted, his head tilting slightly, as he tried to make out the newcomer only to find it was me. His expression changed from confused to surprised, his eyebrows raised and his mouth hung open slightly.

I blushed as I passed him, clinging on to my books as I tried to force my smile to withdraw. Since that moment, I had a thing for Stiles. And I liked to think that he had a thing for me too. But Stiles and I’s relationship, platonic or otherwise, felt like one that could never make it off the ground. Like something always stopped us from connecting. Like fate was trying to tell us something. But I didn't want to listen to old lady fate. It was hard to ignore the intense feeling I had when he was around and I didn't want that feeling to go away.

For a while his crush on Lydia, made it difficult for him to have an eye for anyone else. I became his venting buddy when we were paired up together one day in Biology. The only thing worse about having to listen to your crush talk about another person was dissecting a frog while doing it.

“I just don't know how, no matter how hard I try, that she just rejects my feelings for her.” He whined as I slide the scalpel down the frog's stomach, cringing the entire time.

“Mhmm.” I responded absentmindedly.

“It just so frustrating you know? Like why doesn't she love me back?”

“OH MY GOD!” I covered my nose with the back of my hand as all of the innards of the amphibian could be seen.

“I know, right!” Stiles agreed, his mind clearly away from the task at hand.

Stomach turning, I set down the tool and faced him. His words just now hitting me as I processed them. He was still talking when interrupted him in the middle of telling me for the umpteenth time how he'd loved her since grade school and there was no one like that strawberry blonde and that Aiden was just a minor setback but he'd end up on top.

“Stiles.” I said, holding a hand up to halt his rambling. “You say you've loved Lydia forever right?”

He nodded his attention fully on me now, making me kind of nervous.

“Well,” I swallowed thickly forcing myself to continue. “How come after forever and all the ‘bonding’ you say you've done, she's still going after the bad boys?”

He mulled this over, thinking intently about the question. If I'd learned anything about Stiles is that this was the sign of a boy making a case to support his argument. But I was tired of him lusting after the popular girl who didn't care about him.

“Before you say anything, think about this.” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “If she does end up with you, whenever that may be, will she ever love you as much as you love her?”

His eyes widened with understanding as my question loomed between us. His eyes scanned over my face, but I could tell he was really considering the question. Before he could respond however, Scott McCall flung open the door. He was obviously winded as he tried to explain to the teacher that he needed Stiles urgently for a lacrosse meeting with Coach. That was all the persuading the teacher needed to dismiss Stiles from class. The only thing was, that if it were a meeting for the lacrosse team, why were they headed the opposite way of the locker rooms?

That was most of my encounters with him. Constantly just on the cusp of breaking through the wall of friendship to something more, when he was ripped away by his friends for one bad excuse or another. At first, I thought he didn't like me and his friend (at his request) were saving him from me. But that proved not to be true after one instance where he deliberately kissed my cheek, promising to text me later before running off to meet his friends who were anxiously waiting for him at his jeep.

It seemed like every meeting Stiles and I had was always interrupted by some big emergency that had him scrambling out of the nearest door. This was true even on the day that I would remember for the rest of my life. The day that changed me as a normal everyday girl.

On this day, I sat in the courtyard on my free period. I was reviewing some physics notes, preparing for the test that was later that day. He sat next me, plopping dramatically in the picnic like table and wait led for me to notice him.

“Hi Stiles.” I droned, flipping the page of my notebook and doing my best to avoid those perfectly golden orbs.

He sighed again in response, begging for my attention in the way only Stiles did. I bit the inside of my cheek trying to subside my smile. After another overly dramatic sigh, I looked at him with a pointed glare that quickly grew to a smile.

“Yes Stiles. How can I help you today?”

He smiled back, the corners of his lips turning up just so and making my heart flutter.

“How would you like to accompany me on a secret mission?” He said seriously, but if you knew anything about Stiles you'd know he was rarely serious.

“Secret mission, huh?” I mused, turning slightly so I was facing him better.

“Mhmm.” He hummed. “Top secret. Highly classified. No one can know.”

“Sounds like it.” I smirked, “And what is this oh so secret-”

“Top secret!” He interrupted.

“Top secret, mission that you're embarking on?” I corrected myself as I continued.

Stiles looked around us, checking to see if the coast was clear, before ducking his head and leaning in towards me until his lips were inches from my ear. I felt a pleasurable chill run down my spine as he began speaking, his words expelling warm washes of breath when they hit my ear.

“Frozen yogurt. My treat.”

He pulled away, checking again to make sure no one heard his super secret message to me. I smiled at him, bigger than I probably should have. It was happening. Stiles and I were finally going to be alone just the two of us. Away from distractions or friends that could steal us away. I should have known better than that, though. As soon as I opened my mouth to say yes, someone in the distance called his name out making us both jump. We looked in the direction of the voice to find Scott standing with fellow lacrosse teammate, Isaac Lahey. They waved him over emphatically, looking like they had something urgent to tell him.

He dropped his head, clearly as disappointed as I felt that our timing was never right. They called his name again and he yell from them to hold on, a tinge of anger in his voice.

“I'm sorry-” he started but for fear of crying I stopped him.

“It's fine. You're a busy guy, I get it.” I shrugged, choosing to find the hem of my skirt more interesting than looking at him.

He lifted my chin though, forcing our eyes to meet. It's like he knew that his eyes were my kryptonite. He leaned in a fraction, so we were both breathing the same air. “I'll make this up to you, I promise.”

I was nodding in agreement before I knew what I was agreeing too. He leaned in, pressing his lips to my cheek and his kiss seared on my skin even after he pulled away. He was gone before I could get a word in and I was left alone once again.

The high I was on from Stiles kissing me, was gone before I hit last period. I spent my whole test thinking about him. At first I thought about how much I liked him and cute we would be together. But then that changed when I really thought about how little time we'd actually spent together. The universe was clearly trying to tell me something, but I would not listen.

As class went on though, the realisation that maybe Stiles really didn't like me set in. Yes, he had kiss me twice but it was only on the cheek. Maybe he was being polite? Then there was the mild flirting whenever we're together. We gravitated to each other like magnets and in those moments I felt free, invincible.

I guess I was being dramatic when I said that every time Stiles and I had time together it was interrupted. There were times that in class or at lunch that we spent that whole hour together. Talking about school, joking around, and my favourite flirting. But those were easily forgotten in the shadow of the ones where he did leave. The next day when I saw him after those times, he would always make up some weird excuse like Scott’s cat died or Lydia lost her phone or Allison needed help with her archery. But Scott didn't seem to upset for someone who just lost his cat and was ‘forcing’ his friend to come console him, Lydia was usually using her phone while he was telling me she’d lost it, and Allison was like a master archer (I'd seen her at the archery club shooting one day, she's fantastic) so she really didn't need Stiles, who could barely hold a pencil without dropping it, to help her with archery.

As I walked home, the only thing I could come up with was maybe he's ashamed of me. I was the new girl and I wasn't sure of people's opinions of me yet. Maybe they were all bad and maybe Stiles did like me but didn't want to get made fun of. I sighed loudly, adjusting my backpack on my shoulders. It was a depressing thought but it was the only one I could come up with that made sense. My mood had dropped significantly and I felt like nothing could change it.

But then, my phone started buzzing from inside of my pocket. I was going to ignore it before the thought accrued to me that it could be Stiles! He had said that he would talk me later and now that school was over, it /had/ to be him, right? I smashed the green button as soon as I pulled it out, producing an over excited and rather shaky hello.

“Honey?” My mom’s voice called out from the other side of the receiver.

“Oh hi mom.” I responded, my tone dropping significantly.

“Hi honey, listen the dog got into the bread again. Do you mind picking some up on your way home from school?”

I rolled my eyes annoyedly knowing she couldn't see me. “Sure, mom. Just expect me a little later than usual, then.”

She gushed some thanks and I love yous before getting off the phone, leaving my thoroughly disappointed and greatly annoyed.

I grabbed a basket once inside the store and rushed over to the bread aisle. I just wanted to be home, in my bed with a tub of ice cream and my phone close by just in case ‘someone’ decided to text me. I frown when I realised it had been several hours since I'd last talked to Stiles and he still hadn't called or even texted. That boy was sending me mixed signals and I couldn't be more confused as to what he wanted.

The bread was easy enough to find since I worked at the grocery store and usually got landed the job of stocking it when new shipments arrived. I walked right to the spot I knew the bread would be and grabbed a loaf. I was halted though by another hand reaching for the same loaf of bread. I glared at the hand that had at least a hundred other breads to choose from and was now playing tug of war for the one that was clearly mine. My eyes roamed up to the owner of the hand as I prepared a long winded rant I would surely unleash upon the person.

I didn't realise it was him at first. When my eyes met his, they were different than I had remembered. They were dark and cold and looked upon me with an intensity I could not read. He looked worn, like the day had taken more of a toll on him then he would have liked. His hair was slightly more disheveled than usual, but I'd never seen Stiles Stilinski outside of school so I didn't know what to expect when I finally did. He'd changed clothes since school, once clad in dark blue pants and matching plaid shirt, he was now wearing a maroon t-shirt and khaki pants. He's worn this outfit before and it was still my favourite one.

“Stiles!” My voice was too high of a pitch to sound normal, but I hoped he overlooked it.

“Hey there, gorgeous.”

My stomach did at least four backflips and an aerial. Stiles and I had talked many times, but I couldn't remember a time that he'd ever called me gorgeous. I was starting to think that I liked after school Stiles more. I smiled as a response, not really trusting myself to say something intelligent.

“Sorry about earlier today. I forgot I promised to help Scott with a pest problem.” He said, his voice like silk as he talked.

“P-pest problem?” I stuttered, and I mentally berated myself for doing so.

“Yeah. Apparently there's a bunch of wolves running around Beacon Hills.” He said without missing a beat.

His tone was so casual for such a bold statement. He talked like he actually believed there were wolves in California. Which was impossible because there hadn't been wolves here in years. I raised an eyebrow at him, studying his face a little further than I had before. It was strange for Stiles of all people to get such a basic fact wrong. He smirked at me, eyeing me over and I blushed in response. Was he checking me out?

“Right, wolves.” I dismissed the inaccuracy as a fluke. I couldn't risk scaring him off. “So, what brings you in today?”

He grabbed the loaf of bread we both were after from my grasp and held it up, his smirk returning. “I was hungry for some grilled cheese and we were out of bread. You?”

“Grilled cheese, huh? With what kind of cheese?” I challenged, knowing the only correct answer was not American cheese.

“Anything but American.” He answered correctly.

I smiled brightly at him, grabbing my own loaf of bread and tossing it into my basket. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Stilinski.”

A glint of something flashed behind his dark eyes. It was so quick if I hadn't already been looking I might have missed it. My smiled faded as I tried to assess what it was that I'd seen. There was something there, I knew it but I was distracted as Stiles placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me towards the registers.

“So you're telling me that you slept with a baby blanket until like last year?” I laughed.

Stiles had graciously offered to walk me home, and what kind of girl would I be if I declined? A dumb one that's what kind. Now we were playing a very innocent game of truth or dare, which had really been a game of truth or truth because neither one of us had picked anything else.

“If you tell anyone I will deny it.” He said almost seriously, but he's smile gave him away.

I laughed out loud again, harder than before. Whatever had gotten into Stiles tonight, I liked it. Maybe without the pressure of his obviously overbearing friends, he could finally be himself. Or maybe this was just Stiles after hours? Either way I was enjoying him.

“Okay, so truth or dare?” He asked, continuing our game.

I knew what he expected me to do. He knew I'd play it safe and say truth, because that's the kind of girl someone would expect me to be: the safe girl. But safe can also mean boring and I didn't want the only boy that was paying this amount of attention to be bored. Beside, we were steadily approaching my house so what's the worst he could do if I just picked…

“Dare.”

I stopped walking and turn to face him. I was hoping to see a look of surprise on his face when he stopped too, but if anything he looked indifferent.

“You sure you want to do that?”

His voice was different from anything I'd ever heard from him before. It was deep and gruffly, with a harshness to it. I search his face for any ounce of humour, but found none. I got this sickening feeling in my stomach that something was off here, but that feeling was overpowered by the feeling pooling in my lower abdomen.

“Y-yes.” I muttered.

He chuckled darkly, taking a step towards me. “Dare means you have to do anything I say.”

“Do your worst.” I said breathily trying to sound more confident then I felt.

One more step and we were so close that I could feel his breath fanning over my face. My own breathing was shallow and slightly stuttered as I waited for Stiles to make his move. His eyes were darker than ever and the ghost of a deadly smile was playing on his lips. This boy was dangerous to my panties and to my heart. Was it even healthy for your heart to skip that many beats?

“Close your eyes.” He demanded and I obeyed without forethought.

Nothing happened for several minutes, I could feel his breath still over me like he hadn't moved from in front of me. Just as I was about ask what he was doing, his lips connected with mine. They were rough and slightly chapped but they made me melt all the same. This is the thing I'd been wanting from Stiles since the day I'd met him. This exact moment was everything I'd ever wanted.

I pulled away, my eyes still closed not wanting forget the way his lips blended with mine. But when I finally did open them, he was gone. Like the wind, there one second and gone the next, he was gone. I had half a mind to call out for him, but I knew he was gone. I smiled to myself, wondering idly as I walked to my house, unlocked my door, set the groceries on the counter and headed up to my room if he'd planned this the entire time.

As I closed my door, I giggled thinking to myself how I must have ruined his plan to kiss me by never picking dare. I could remember everything he told me that night like it was a movie on replay. He was melted into my brain and there was no way of getting him out.

It only took me three minutes after I finished brushing my teeth to decide that I was going to text him. He didn't say goodnight or even goodbye after all. Plus I wanted to ensure that tomorrow at school would be just as casual as tonight was, so I had to text him right?

Me: Thank for tonight. It will go down in history as my favourite night. :)

I sent it. Knowing that Stiles was already contemplating a witty comeback. It took a little longer than I would have like but eventually I felt my phone buzz in my hand.

Stiles: what??

Not his best witty retort, but I couldn't expect him to be completely normal after we just kissed right.

Me: haha. Very funny. Where did you run off to anyways? We could've watched a movie or something.

Stiles: Seriously, what are you talking about? I've been with Scott all day.

I reread the words several times. He's been with Scott all day? Was this another joke? Because I was one hundred and ten percent sure that he kissed me a half an hour ago. Before I had a chance to write back, my phone rang. It was Stiles. I relaxed a little, surely he was calling me to tell me he was joking and that he had a good time time too. I answered it barely getting my bright and cheery hello out before Stiles interrupted me.

“What was I wearing?” He almost hollered from the other side of the phone. His voice was lower than usual, his words running into each other like did when he was upset.

“What?” I questioned, frowning.

“You said we were hanging out tonight, what was I wearing?”

I began pacing the room, biting my lip nervously. What the hell was going on? This wasn't the boy I was walking home with less than an hour ago. No this boy was scared, worried even.

“Uhhh, red - no, maroon shirt with khaki pants.”

The line was silent for a moment and I was worried he'd hang up before I could ask what was happening.

“My eyes!” He urged. “Did you notice anything about my eyes?”

I frown at this question, mostly because I had but I was sure it was just my imagination. Was this some sort of prank?

“Stiles I don't-”

“Listen,” he interjected,”Meet me and Scott at the preserves in ten minutes. We’ll be there in five. I'll be wearing a blue baseball hat. If it's not blue, do not talk to me. Understand?”

I tried to listen intently to his instructions but they weren't making sense. Why would he tell me he's wearing a blue hat if he might not wear one? I scrambled around my room nevertheless, pulling shorts, slipping on shoes and grabbing my keys before I was halted by something outside of window. I could barely hear Stiles voice as I peer down at the person standing in my driveway.

It was him, it was Stiles.

“Stiles, I thought you said you were 5 minutes away from the woods?” I said, as the Stiles out my window looked up at me and smiled.

“What? I am? Wait is he there? Listen, whatever you do don't-” I barely caught the last of his words as I ended the call.

I tiptoed down the stairs, cringing as the deadbolt on my front door made a loud clicking noise when I unlocked it. Stiles was already there, dressed like before, with a beautiful smile lazily draped across his face. It was odd though. Maybe it was the dim light that only came from the moon or maybe it was the lack of it, but he looked even more tired, worn even. There were shades of dark circle eclipsing his eyes. His skin was pale, which I hadn't noticed earlier. Something about his overall presence made my stomach twist into knots, but I wasn't sure if that was from fear or excitement.

He took a step toward me, inviting himself into my house. I stepped back allowing him in, captivated by the hunger at which he gaze upon me with. I grabbed his hand, guiding him up my stairs and into my bedroom silently.

Once the door was shut, I pressed my back into it, watching as he moved about my room. I couldn't believe Stiles Stilinski was actually here. He walked past my bed, his fingers trailing across its surface. I half promised myself that I'd never wash the comforter.

“Where'd you run off to earlier?” I asked, finally breaking the silence.

He glanced over his shoulder, his feature dark and almost menacing but that didn't stop the water park in my panties.

“He's always thought about being in your room.” I heard him vaguely mumble.

The phrase was foreign to me, I wasn't sure who the ‘he’ that he was referring to was. Maybe he just misspoke? There was no doubt in my mind that he was any less nervous than I was. And this was Stiles we were talking about, it's wasn’t unlike him to say outlandish things.

“Well he's here now. So what's he going to do?”

I felt the sultry tone coarse through my words, but I wasn't sure where it came from. Stiles turned to face me. His expression unreadable, but he seemed intrigued by the way he tilted his head. Another unholy and almost sinful smile appeared on his face. If this was any other situation, or person of that matter, I would have been frightened but I was only criminally turned on.

He was in front of me before I'd even realised that he'd moved. His eyes were dark like they had been all night but now I was sure it was because his hands were on my hips slowly trailing up the side of my body. I didn't move or make a sound as they did, rejoicing in the feeling of his hands on me. He didn't stop moving upwards until both hands were around my neck, giving the slightest amount of pressure to it. He leaned his head forward just enough that our lips were barely touching, his eyes flickered to them and back.

“I'm going to fuck you.” He growled, before smashing his lips against mine.

His body pressed into mine, pushing me further into the door. I groaned as his rough lips tore against mine. The feel of them were unlike anything else. His grip on my neck tightened slightly more as I felt his hard cock pushing into my thigh and I moaned again. Suddenly something came over me, the want for him was insatiable and I clawed at his clothes trying to rid him body of them.

He stopped me before I could even pop a button, pinning my hands to the door. His lips trailed along my jawline, all the way to my ear.

“Don't. Fucking. Move.” He growled and it resonated through my whole body.

I obeyed as his coarse lips ran along my neck, sucking hard, making me hiss in pain. One of his hands played with the band of my pajama shorts, dipping his fingers in them and playing with the lace of my panties. My stomach tensed at his touch and I closed my eyes taking in the way his callused fingers danced along my skin.

He relented on the attack he was casting on my neck to look at me. I kept my eyes shut, knowing if our lust filled eyes met I may just come right there. I could feel him watching me as he dipped his whole hand down my pants, past my panties and connected with me clit causing a filthy moan to spewed out of my mouth.

“You like that?” He asked menacingly, rubbing slow deliberately circles into my bundle of nerves.

“Fuck!” Was all I could manage as a response. He sped up, changing up his patterns and I could feel an orgasm steadily approaching.

With his other hand he kneaded my breast over my shirt adding to the pleasure. My peaks harden under his touch protruding from beneath my shirt. I couldn't stop the sounds protruding from my mouth as he ripped my shirt upwards. The bra that I hadn't put on after I changed into my night clothes, left my chest bare and exposed to him. I wrenched my eyes open, watching as he ducked down latching on to breast.

“God Stiles.” I mewled, tangling my fingers into his hair and pushing him into me.

A sharp pain on the sensitive skin of my breast made me cry out. The tormenting motion of his fingers stopped too as he lifted his head to meet mine.

“I thought I told you not move.” The dangerous look in his eyes had me swallowing thickly.

“I uhh- I'm sorry.” I tried to apologise.

He wrapped his hands around my wrist roughly then pinned them back against the door. The menacing look in his eyes was warning enough to not move again. I could feel the wetness pooling in my panties because even though he was kind of intimidating; this other side to Stiles that was aggressive and demanding turned me on like no other. He maintained eye contact as he removed his hand from my wrists and began tugging my shorts and panties down my legs. I stepped out of them when they hit the floor and he kicked them aside to somewhere unknown.

“Remember what I said.” He warned as he nudged his leg in between mine, spreading them apart. I felt the most pleasurable of twinges in my core as he did. I wanted to lunge at him, not caring if the consequences, and kiss him until he was begging for air. But I did care about the consequences because Stiles had shown another side of himself tonight and who knew what he was capable of.

In my idle thoughts, he'd unzipped his pants letting his aching erection fall through the slit. “Now Koneko, sit still and let me fuck you.”

His cock slipped between the narrow gap of my thighs that were slick with from my own wetness. His tip rubbed against my clit making my hiss upon contact. He passed over it a few more times teasingly. I almost begged him for more when he grabbed my hips and plunged inside of me, filling me to the hilt with his member. I didn't have time to against to his size before he began moving and I relied solely on gravity and the door for support as he slammed into me relentlessly. His hands gripped my waist with such a force that I was sure I could feel the bruises forming.

“You feel so fucking good around my dick.” He said through gritted teeth.

It became increasingly harder to containing my moans. My bottom lip was raw from my teeth wearing into it for so long. I could feel the burning ball of desire intensifying as my orgasm steadily approached.

“Stiles, I'm gonna, gonna-”

“Not yet.” He growled, pulling out of me causing me to almost cry out.

“No, please. I was so close.” I whined as he peeled me off the door he'd just banged me into and guided me over to the bed.

“Don't worry, gorgeous. I will make sure you come.” He smirked as he basically threw me on the bed.

I landed on my back, bouncing lightly. Stiles stood at the edge of the bed, staring over my half naked body with a hunger in his eyes.

“Come here.” He rolled me over to my stomach before grabbing me by the waist and forcing my ass in the air. His cock was hard against my pussy and he played teasingly with my entrance. He roamed over my ass with his hand, touching the soft skin there. He dragged his hand down to my clit swirling his fingers over the sensitive bundle.

“Please Stiles.” I begged, pushing back into him. “I need you.”

He didn't respond, just rubbed soft slow patterns. The pressure was just enough to make my body spark but not enough to make me come. I pushed back into him again, eager for him to bring me some relief. Satisfied that I was, he eased his cock back into my dripping pussy while still working over my clit. We both sighed, the new angle allowing him to sink deeper. He wrapped his arm around my waist forcing me to sit up and started up a rhythm, moving hard and deliberately inside of me.

My back hit his chest and the hand attached to the arm skidding along my skin, palming roughly over one of my breasts and his fingers tweaked harshly at my nipple. His teeth moved over my neck, biting, lips sucking and bringing dozens of red marks to the surface, all of which would be purple by tomorrow.

“Fuck, Stiles, please.” I begged, hips shaking as my climax built, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on. His hand left my chest and his lips left my shoulder, fingers pushing my head around and his lips slanted hotly over mine. It was all tongue and teeth, moans being shared between us and he pulled back to pant breathlessly.

He picked up his pace, slamming into me quickly and roughly, fingers rubbing harsh curled on my clit as the other hand wrapped tightly in my hair, holding my head in place so he could watch as I came. My eyes rolled back, sounds near screams leaving my lips and it wasn't long until he was throbbing between my clenched walls, cumming so hard he groaned almost as loud as me.

He fell forwards, pinning me beneath him before rolling over to the side and pulling out, an arm over his head and his mouth hung slack. The room smelt of sweat and sex, and I grinned lazily, turning to curl into his side.

My phone vibrated rapidly from the floor, the device being momentarily forgotten about in all the chaos. I lifted my head to glare at my phone with intent to get up and not so nicely tell the person on the other line to call me in the morning. As I moved, Stiles stopped me turning his body towards mine and capturing my lips with his. I moaned sweetly into the kiss, pulling my arms around him in attempt to get as close as possible to him.

I was startled when my door was slammed opened, thumping against the wall loudly. I dragging my lips away from Stiles so I could see who had made the intrusion. Much to my surprise standing in my doorway was Scott, mouth hanging open.

“What the hell Scott?” I yelled, scrambling off the bed and searching the floor for my shorts.

I expected Scott to realise his mistake and back out of the room covering his eyes. But he didn't, in fact his eyes never left Stiles who was now sitting on the bed with a smirk on his face. I pulled on my shorts just as Scott called over his shoulder, without taking his eyes off Stiles, down the hall.

“He's in here.”

I frown at him, placing my hands on my hips. “Scott, you can't just barge into my house and- what the fuck?”

I had to blink a few times to makes sure that what I was seeing was real. Stiles, different from the one sitting on my bed, was standing in my door way with Scott looking from the Stiles on my bed to me. His expression was hard, almost angry as one last time he looked me over then turned to the Stiles on my bed.

The difference between the two were obvious now with the addition of the new Stiles. The one on my bed was sickly pale, with shadows under his eyes that were just as dark as his irises. His hair, upon further investigation, was improperly disheveled compared to the other Stiles.

“You son of a bitch.” The Stiles standing with Scott roared taking a step toward the Stiles on my bed. Scott put his arm out to stop him. The Stiles on my bed just smiled moving to a standing position.

“Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” I yelled sending all three boys attention my way.

“You see, Stiles, shielding the girl you love from your life does have its disadvantages.” There was a twinge of excitement in his tone, that made me stomach turn. “How are you going to explain to her that the person that just fucked her wasn't her sweet precious Stiles? It was a thousand year old fox, a nogitsune.”

I couldn't understand the other Stiles’s words. What the hell was he talking about? What was Stiles supposedly shielding me from?

“You're nothing. You're void, a useless, bare, version of me!” Stiles growled trying again to go towards, but Scott held him back again.

A void Stiles? My head started to hurt and I leaned against the wall in case I fainted, which was a good possibility.

“Useless, huh? I'm sure that toy over that wouldn't say so.” He thumbed at me over his shoulder, sending a devilish grin with it.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Stiles shouted running at the Void Stiles so fast that Scott didn't have a chance to stop him. Stiles cocked back his fist, heading full speed when the Void Stiles stopped him by his neck, squeezing it tightly.

What happened next was unbelievable, incrediblely impossible. But impossibly true. Scott's eyes changed from their usual brown to a bright red. This hands resembled claws now that long dark nails shot out from the tips of his fingers. When I blinked again, hair began sprouting out at an alarming rate around his face and down his neck. His ears and teeth both grew out into a point, making him look like a wolf.

A werewolf.

Just thinking the words made me feel crazy. But how could I ever believe I wasn't? In front of me was Stiles choking someone that looked identical to him while Scott pounced looking like something out of a teen movie and I was caught in the crossfires. So I did the only logical thing to do, I ran. Out of my room, out of my back door, and straight into the woods behind my house. I ran and ran, the woods too dark and thick to see more than a few feet in front of me. I heard shouting behind me and looked over my shoulder to see what or whom it might be. Almost instantly tripping over something and I landed chest first on a very large, very old stump. I could feel a bruise already forming around my rib cage, as I struggled to stand again.

“Hey!” I turned quickly in the direction of the voice, not really knowing who I'd find. From in the general direction of which I just came, Stiles appeared. In the darkness, it was hard to make out much of his features but he was wearing a plaid shirt for sure. I relaxed knowing that this wasn't the void Stiles or wolf Scott, just human Stiles.

“Stiles.” I breathed, rushing over to him as he held his arms open to embrace me. We collided a little harder than expected, hitting the newfound soreness on my ribs.

“Are you alright?” He asked, noticing the tenseness when we met.

“I am now.” I muttered into his shoulder.

“I’m here Koneko and I won't let anyone hurt you.” I moved my head to smile up at him. He smile back, ducking down to place a soft kiss on my lips. I was home in his arms now and I'd never felt safer.

“Will you tell me what's going on? What's really going on Stiles?” I asked, trying to search his eyes but the darkness loomed to heavy and I could barely make them out.

“I will but let's get you back, Koneko.” His warm voice soothing me instantly. I nodded, curling into him as he wrapped his arms around me and we headed back to my house.

My mind raced, replaying the night over in my head as we walked. Stiles held me so close to him, his knuckles were turning white. But out of all the things that happened that night, the only thing that stood out to me in that moment was that I couldn't remember a time before tonight that Stiles had ever called me Koneko.

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wordsofcleo · 4 years

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Best Friend The Hero (12/4/19)

There are some things I’m almost sure we don’t deserve in life, as human beings. Think about it. Dogs, cake, bubble baths, and best friends. Okay, maybe we do deserve those things and I’m just being hard on myself as per usual. But you get the idea.

I consider a best friend to be someone who would do nearly anything for you, strives for your happiness, and wants the very best for you. I consider it to be someone who is in your life for more than a temporary moment. A best friend is someone who sticks around no matter what happens or how bad times get. They are part of your journey in this thing called life.

I have two best friends. One is Cassie; we’ve been best friends for maybe seventeen years. Yes, we were small children who never parted. This post is about my other best friend, Ian, who also has a very sweet and unexpected twist about him.

I started working for Exxon some time in early 2017. Yes, I had a gas station job. Go me. Judge me all you want, but truth be told, it was literally the most amazing job I’ve ever had. I made almost all of my valued friendships there, my boss was superb and genuinely cared about her workers, and there was always laughter and fun. I never questioned myself or my worth in the workplace because I never had a reason to. I was safe. It was enjoyable. I always came to work with a smile on my face, and went home without worry in my mind. Some time after I’d been working there, I noticed a new face coming around. A new customer. I’d grown close to all of my customers, and got to know the occasional new-comers and/or tourists. But this guy was new, and soon enough he would become another regular. I realized that there was something different about him that I couldn’t quite place my finger on. He had long blonde hair, wore combat boots (that probably isn’t the correct term of boot, but what do I know about boots?), and almost always got the same thing when he stopped in. An Arizona tea. After studying what was so different about him for some time, I was able to place my finger on it. He always spoke with a genuine smile, asked how my day was going, and took the time from his day to seriously care. I was just another employee behind a counter, how special was I, really? With this customer, he made me feel special. He genuinely wanted to know things. Another thing that was different was the way that he always stood off to the side of the counter, if there were other customers in line, to proceed in conversation with me. For me, at first, I found it a bit strange. He was a talker, that was fine. However, most of the customers that lingered around for conversation were people that I’d known for a while being there. He was still new to me. Even then, I enjoyed his conversation and never hesitated. It went very naturally. When he found himself to the door, he would make sure I had eye contact with him before he said, “Alright, take care now.”

Honestly, Florida’s nice folk are very few and far between. This guy was very genuine and kind. That is a major thing that made him different. And I appreciated that about him.

One day, the guy came in and asked me if we were hiring. We were always hiring, because we had so many people land the job and leave soon enough. (Sucks for them, because it was an awesome place.) He’d asked if I had an application, but I didn’t, and directed him to the online application link. Again, he got his Arizona tea, stayed around for a while to chat, and he was back out into the world again. He came back a few times after that saying he’d has issues with the online application, and I told him he’d be better off speaking to the manager. So, assumably he did. My manager wasn’t from our area, so she didn’t know many people personally. I was born and raised there, and we had a cool relationship, so when she would get new applications, she would ask me if I knew of such and such.

“Do you know an Anthony?” She asked me one day. My mind immediately darted to my very first relationship in school; my first serious boyfriend. His name was Anthony. “Anthony who?!” And no, it was not the same Anthony. It was Ian. I didn’t learn until later that he went by both names. So, one day I came into work and the newly-reg customer that I’d found so intriguing was there with a name tag on the job. “Oh hey, you got the job!” I noticed that no one else was speaking to him much. I was already warmed up to him, and our conversations came very naturally. He was a cool dude.

The Exxon I worked was a tiny building, but it had two parts to it: Exxon (gas station) and Subway (for obviously - sub sandwiches). Ian had been hired onto Subway side. That would mean we worked in the same place, but he was just a counter space over from me.

At this point in time, my best friend Cassie had gone off to college and stayed busy. She would always visit me of course when she was down, but I stopped seeing her as much. That was okay because I was married at the time and busy with work and other things, but I still missed her terribly. She was my ride or die!

Almost immediately, Ian and I became great friends. I feel as though some people were hesitant of him because he was different. It could have been for the same reasons that I listed above with myself trying to figure him out, but who knows. He was an intriguing man. He was genuine. He was kind. He was a talker. You didn’t get a lot of that in Florida. Everyone is always rude, in a rush, and panties in a wad for the most part. I said for the most part; don’t hurt me, Floridians.

I learned that Ian moved to Florida from Alabama approximately four years from the time we met at work, which would explain why I didn’t know of him. Most people in our small community knew everyone simply because we all grew up together. Sally knew Bob, and Bob had a cousin named Trevor that had a brother named Thomas and Thomas ended up being Sally’s husband. Eventually, Sally and Thomas have kids that go to school with Bob and Trevor’s kids and so on and so forth. Okay, you get the idea. Small town mentality. I totally pulled that out of my ass.

That’s why I didn’t recognize Ian. He was from Alabama, and still fairly new to the block. They say it’s always important to have a work buddy. A best friend buddy. Well, Ian ended up being my best friend buddy. If he wasn’t working the same time I was, it wasn’t exactly the same. Sure, I had other work buddies, but he kind of ended up being my special work buddy. My best friend. To be fair, all of the coworkers laughed and had fun together, but we were all different in our own ways. Ian was not only fun to be around, we had more of a connection. The others were more “Hey, we work together, so let’s love each other, have fun, and go home. Come back again the next day.” With Ian, we could talk to one another outside of work, be there for one another, and really just be good friends both in and outside of the work place. His parents came into the store frequently to pick on him (they’re silly like that and I love it) and just say hello. They took me in immediately! Growing up with a crooked and crumbly family, it was nice to know that I’d be accepted in somewhere else. It just went to show that you don’t have to be blood related to have family. I made family where I worked. I was brought into people’s circles and families that I’d never expected. Ian’s family being the main prospect. They were silly, goofy, honest, genuine, true, and everything that family folk should be. Everything that I’d ever wanted to be part of. They made me feel loved and appreciated. They cared. “If you ever need anything, you know you can call me or come by the house,” his mother would always say. Heck, from the beginning this was the lingo that was used. I was just another girl at a job. But they made me feel like home. To this day, that is true.

About a year into working for Exxon, my pre-existing back injuries began to flare once more. I knew I had a bad back, but the pain had come and gone. I needed a job, and the one before Exxon simply wasn’t working out anymore, so I had to suck it up and find something. Exxon was great, I loved it, but the good ole Return Of The Shit Spine was taking over once more. Nevertheless, I attempted powering through my work duties despite how badly I was pained. I didn’t want to lose my job because I couldn’t complete tasks. Ian caught onto this, and naturally, he wanted to help. I wasn’t supposed to have help on my tasks at work, but it was offered, so I didn’t decline. Ian didn’t work on Exxon side; he worked on Subway side, but regardless of that, he made time and effort to help me with my tasks. Tasks like, lifting heavy trash, moving heavy crates of product, loading cases of beer onto a pulley so that I could transport them into the cooler to stock. I never asked for his help, but any time he saw me groaning in pain or about to lift something, there he was. Ready to help me, even when he wasn’t supposed to.

My spinal injuries got so serious to the point that I was losing the ability to stand for hours at a time at the register, I could no longer stock items, or do majority of my job duties. Many days, I had to leave work early because I could only handle so much of the pain. I have a high pain tolerance. That’s how you know it was out of control. I finally gave in, saw a doctor, got an x-ray and MRI completed. This is when I first learned that I had herniated and bulging discs in my spine, and that my spinal cord was narrowing and becoming compressed. No freaking wonder I hurt so bad. With that being said, I was placed on forced medical leave. The idea was to get fixed up and return to work, but that never happened. Why? Because I had no health insurance or money, and that simply wasn’t possible. My husband’s income alone was not enough for what I needed done to my spine.

When Ian started working with us at Exxon, my husband had not long come home from one of his long departed journeys. Yes, the ones where he left me out of the blue with no rhyme, reason, or explanation. This was something that I could share with Ian, having been good friends, and he was very understanding of my dedication to my husband as well as my fears. Ian was someone I could trust. I could always tell by the expression on his face that he was disappointed with my husband, but always danced around telling me so. I’m sure that he didn’t want to go there, and that’s okay. He wanted to respect my marriage, and I respect him for that. Things went well for a long time with my husband before they started declining rapidly again. Many nights when my husband and I got into arguments, I felt completely alone. I couldn’t just run up to my best friend Cassie and be with her, because she was off at college. She was busy and away, and that’s okay. Ian was always able to tell when something sounded “off” in our texts. I didn’t ever want to splurge off about the problems between my husband and I, but I also couldn’t hold it in forever. I was keeping it bottled inside, and that’s never good. So lucky for me, Ian would be my hero. There were so many nights that my husband totally disregarded the pain he’d caused me, and I’d sit in the bathroom (or my car) for hours, crying until I couldn’t anymore. I would get suicidal. I’d feel hopeless. I felt unloved. Ian would offer to meet up with me some place and talk, so I usually would. Some times it was 11 at night, other times it was three in the morning. Either way, he was always there for me, and he would stay and talk with me as long as I needed it. No matter the time, no matter if he had work the next morning. Ian was always there.

Shortly after leaving my job on medical leave, Hurricane Michael struck the Panhandle. We were ground zero. We got totally destroyed, and my precious job went with it. Of course, most everyone I knew was displaced for a long time, and that included Ian and his family.

Between the hurricane, losing my grandfather a month after, and all of the other chaos in between, Ian and I weren’t seeing each other as much. His family’s home got totally ruined, where mine and my grandparent’s got minimal damage. Because of that, we were able to come home sooner than Ian and his family. And once they did come home, they had to live out of travel trailers because their damage was so extensive. Even with being displaced like everyone else and far away from each other, our friendship remained. He was busy focusing on working in an unfamiliar territory and helping provide for his family, and I was dealing with the death of the man who raised me. It was hard times. Still, we remained best friends. We talked each other through it all. A lot of the talking we did were the hopeless nights I laid awake, questioning myself and my worth because of the emotionally abusive marriage I was in. Ian was my best friend, and he wanted to respect my marriage, but he hated to see me that way. On days that my husband wouldn’t even acknowledge me, Ian was keeping me sane through it. He cared. He wanted me to be happy and not miserable. He was always there. And I can say without a care in the world to admit here publicly that Ian helped save me from suicide more than once. He didn’t know it at the time, but he did. When my husband made me feel like the scum of the Earth, when I felt like there was no reason to live anymore, Ian is who saved my life. He talked me through the bad, nasty moments of my darkness and got me into my right head again. He was my hero. I can say with total seriousness that Ian helped save my life when no one else would/could.

My husband knew that Ian was my best friend, and he was fine with that. (He better had been. Just because I’m a woman does not mean I can’t have a male best friend). Despite being okay with my very valued friendship, my husband always made remarks about him. Whether it was his looks, the things he said; just any little thing that he could find to over exaggerate in a wrongful way and make him out to be a wonky person. My husband was a “secret bully” to my best friend. And the truth of it is; my husband was jealous of Ian. When he started catching on that Ian did more for me as a friend than he ever would as a husband, he grew somewhat jealous. The other truth is; that was not Ian’s fault, nor was he ever trying to out-do my husband. That’s just how Ian always was. Not just for me, mind you, but he was a helpful, caring person to everyone. That was his nature. The one thing that ticked me off with my husband and that situation was that even though he made constant negative remarks about the man, he eventually warmed up to him enough to start talking to him as his own friend. Not that I didn’t want that, but I felt as though he was being two faced. I knew how my husband could be. One moment he was one way; next he was another. So, one night my husband comes up with the random idea to have Ian over for a “guy’s night”. Yes, in our home (a tiny house). We had a double recliner as the only furniture set, and the bed upstairs in the loft (all open concept like a studio apartment). How can you go from making such hideous remarks about someone, and then invite them over for a guy’s night? Whatever. Of course, Ian was thrilled. I’m sure he wanted to have a friendship with both me and my husband. That would be nice for anyone, you’d think. So, Ian came over, we cooked dinner, they played video games (that mainly consisted of my husband hogging the controller and making Ian watch), and the guys took the recliners down stairs and I slept in the loft upstairs alone. I remember laying there thinking, “This is weird.”

That morning, I was barely awake but still laying in bed. I was listening closely to the guys moving around downstairs before I tried to get up. Then Ian said, “I can run to the store and get breakfast and we can cook for Sav.” And then I heard my husband decline him. “She will be asleep for a long time,” (lies) “so it’ll be fine.”

Yeah, that meant “No”. Ian kept offering, but the answer was still no. Of course Ian left after that, and I got up immediately. I confronted my husband. I couldn’t have the luxury of a nice breakfast from my husband and best friend? Sheesh. I thought it was a nice gesture! And yes, my husband didn’t know I’d heard all of that. But I did.

After that, Ian didn’t come over for “guy’s nights” anymore. Not that he didn’t want to, but my husband never invited him again. He went back on his “I’m not Ian’s biggest fan” streak or whatever. Still, Ian helped with things just the same. I could beg my husband for six months to do something that he’d promise he’d do, and he never did it. And if he did finally do it because I begged, it was done totally wrong and shortcuts made. With Ian, he never hesitated. He got it done right then, and the right way. He was a natural helper. Maybe my husband saw that as a threat, but it wasn’t one. It was my best friend being himself. And I admire him for that.

Back at our work place, our coworkers would always make jokes to me. “Sav, you should give Ian a chance!” Of course, I was married at the time, and that wasn’t right. Even with everything my husband was doing and had been doing to me. I wasn’t trying to slice things off with my husband just to be with someone else. Plus, he was my best friend, and that thought never even crossed my mind as an idea alone. Never. I valued him as my true friend, and nothing more. “Sav, you need to drop your husband forever because he’s a piece of garbage and go for Ian. Look at all he does for you! Look how good he treats you!”

These are things I heard on a nearly regular basis at work. I thought these people were crazy. I didn’t look at Ian that way. I looked at him as my best friend. And I was, at the time, fighting for my marriage by the thin hairs of its ass.

Ian had never been in a serious relationship. Long distance had been his thing a few times, but it didn’t work out. I remember wishing for him, as his bestie, that he would find an amazing woman some day. Someone that would treat him as wonderfully as he treated me, and others. A thought I had more times than not was, ��Why does my best friend care more about me than my own husband?” It was a validated concern. To this day, that is something that is always heavy on my mind. Ian was always more of a good man to me than my own significant other. Ian was the person that I could call at any time of day or night for anything and he would be there. I once had a good friend in a bad relationship that needed out. She needed help moving furniture out with an additional police escort, and Ian overheard the conversation on the phone with her. He offered to use his vehicle to help load and transport her things. Along with him, he brought his entire family to help. I was blown away. That’s a real man.

My husband left me, again, for the fourth time recently on August 18, 2019. It was four times too many, and the last of times. It has been difficult, but I know I can’t be the puppet on the string anymore. I can’t suffer anymore. I can’t hurt anymore. My divorce papers have been filed, and I will be a future divorced woman from the man who emotionally and mentally ruined me for the last four years of my life. The beautiful thing about it? My best friend has been my hero. That’s literally it. Ian is my hero. He was from the beginning, and he still is. Now, don’t take me the wrong way. I don’t want it to sound like it’s been Ian’s job or responsibility to lift me up every time I face plant into shit. It’s not. It never has been. I made that clear to him not to ever feel obligated to pick me up when I’m down. Nevertheless, he always does. Because he cares and he loves me for who I am. And I love him for that. Once my husband did me wrong again this go around, Ian and I started hanging out more. We didn’t for the longest time because of everything going on between me and my husband. There was too much stress and fighting going on. Ian was always there for me, but we weren’t hanging out. We mostly talked over the phone. That changed, and picked back up again in the midst of my runaway spouse. He’s been there for me through it all. And with a shot in the dark, kind of, we became even closer than before. I didn’t think that was possible, but I was wrong. I could tell that Ian had a thing for me, and so I asked him about it. He was honest with me. He told me that he saw me more as a best friend only, but he always did have feelings there. The reason that I never knew of these feelings was because he wanted to respect me, my husband, and my marriage. He, as my best friend, saw that I wanted to fight for my marriage, and he wanted to respect that. So, I never knew about the feelings he had until recently. I appreciated the truth from him. There is no reason on this Earth that any woman should have ever denied Ian. He is a beautiful, caring soul. I never did understand how he wasn’t scooped up beforehand, but what do I know? Do women just love assholes? Maybe so. This go around, we mutually agreed that it was time to satisfy all of our coworkers’ playful suggestions over time about giving each other a chance. And so, we did. It’s been natural. It’s been great. It’s been everything and more. The thing is, I loved my best friend for who he was. I knew who he was, and I knew him well. And that makes me be even more appreciative of what we have now. He has always been genuine and loving, kind and caring, and that has not changed. This last time that my husband left, where people rooted me on in fighting previously, they assured me not to fight anymore. To let him go. People have told me this go around that they saw doors closing and new ones opening for me. And they were right. At first, I didn’t want to believe it. I thought that could never possibly be true. And it was. I never saw myself in any type of romantic relationship with my best friend. Here we are. He is real, emotionally available, trustworthy, promising, caring, protective, supportive, hilarious, fun, and everything else amazing that I can’t even list all in one sentence. He is a wonderful man, and an even better man at heart. I went from counting my days to live with emotional and mental turmoil to thinking I may have a chance at happiness in this life. Am I only a bit guarded? Yes. To be expected. Will I heal with time? Yes, absolutely. My best friend is my hero, and he is now my significant other. I couldn’t have asked for a better door to have opened.

#savnotion #best friend #romance #BFF #personal

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the-record-columns · 5 years

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June 19, 2019: Columns

The ‘World’s Hottest Pepper’

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

We are blessed in Wilkes to have Farmers' Markets so readily available to us.

On Fridays from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m., a group of vendors gather in front of the YMCA on Hwy. 268 in Wilkesboro. Then, on Tuesdays from 3:30 p.m. -5:30 p.m., and Saturday mornings 7:30 a.m. until noon, the Farmers' Market in North Wilkesboro is held at the Yadkin Valley Marketplace on the CBD Loop in Downtown North Wilkesboro. As more and more fruits and vegetables come in, each week they should just continue to get better and better as the season progresses.

Today I want to mention a couple of purchases I made on Tuesday afternoon of last week at the North Wilkesboro Market. As I perused the various tables, I stopped and bought a bag of peaches from Tom Lowe with the Brushy Mountain Orchard at the crest of Kilby Gap on Hwy 16 South. While there we also spent a few minutes remembering his wonderful parents, the late Jane and Caney Lowe.

As I moved on down the line, I stopped to speak to Earth and Creations owner Brenda Dembowski of Roaring River, who sells an assortment of goodies, all handmade with locally grown fruits and vegetables. As we talked, I noticed a few jars of chow chow, and, knowing that I had a pot of pinto beans about ready for dinner, I inquired about the chow chow. As I picked up a pint jar, Brenda smiled and asked, "Do you like your chow chow hot?'

"The hotter the better," I answered.

She went on to say that this stuff was really hot, and I went on to tell her that, in effect, I was tougher than woodpecker lips when it came to spicy foods and she assured me I had better be.

By now I had read the label and it said "Carolina Reaper," and when I inquired about that, Brenda said it was one of the hottest peppers ever.

Now, I will confess that a very limited number of folks are aware of the ONE time I ordered something so hot I could only eat half of it. I really think I was set up, and I did eat the rest of it the next day, so nothing was wasted. However, with that episode in mind, I must confess that I began my dinner that evening with a bit of apprehension that I may have again let my mouth overload by butt, as the saying goes.

Well, the Carolina Reaper Chow Chow was as advertised, hot, really hot; but good -it was the perfect thing to go with a good ole' pot pinto beans. As of this writing, I have eaten about half the jar, and can assure you I will not waste a bit of it. My curiosity got the best of me and I checked out this pepper and found that it is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the "World's Hottest Pepper," and by a long shot, at that. Actually, the fist time I typed Carolina Reaper onto the search bar a product called Blair's Ultra Death Sauce popped up.

Turns out that the pepper was developed by a man named "Smokin'" Ed Currie who owns the PuckerButt Pepper Company (no kidding) in Fort Mill, S.C. It has often been described as the initial bite actually being sweet and then turning into molten lava. It has been used to spice up any number of dishes, giving heat without changing the flavor of the original dish.

It is really becoming downright popular, and I've got to say, that Carolina Reaper Chow Chow is some good stuff.

Netanyahu Draws Strength from the Bible

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

Few people know that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu readily admits that he draws his strength from the Bible. Some years back Netanyahu was interviewed on CNN. Here's an excerpt: “You live in the center of a hostile world. Are you ever able to relax?” To which the Prime Minister replied: “Yes, Sir, I am. Every Saturday on our Sabbath, I have a day off. So every Saturday, I take an hour and a half to read the Bible. I draw enormous strength as well as relaxation from this quiet time.”

As Christians, we are greatly encouraged by this admission. It is great to know that the Prime Minister of Israel faithfully spends time in the Bible, since we believe it is vitally important to understand Israel — past, present and future. The divine influence of the God of Israel is the key to the history of the Jewish people and their nation, Israel.

The interview started off with the question, “Why can’t you and the Palestinian Arabs get together?” The Prime Minister answered, “The basic problem is their failure to recognize our Jewish state.” He continued, “I am prepared to make peace with the Palestinians as we did with Egypt and with Jordan. I am prepared to have a demilitarized Palestinian state existing next to Israel. And I am prepared to meet with the Palestinians without any pre-conditions.”

The interviewer added, “So you do favor having a Palestinian state?” Netanyahu answered, “Yes, but not a state that will keep firing rockets and missiles into our land. It will have to be a demilitarized, peaceful state. And of course, they will have to recognize our state.”

When asked if he would sit down and negotiate with Hamas, Netanyahu replied: “I will sit down with anyone who will recognize our state. As you know, Hamas has refused to do that. They are true terrorists who even terrorize their own people in Gaza.” He added, “I want the world to look at what we have done in the past few years to help the Palestinians in the West Bank. We have helped them in so many ways economically.”

The interviewer went on to state that Israel’s image around the world is constantly under attack and that has to be troublesome to Israel. Netanyahu stressed that there is a big difference between the world’s perceptions and reality, saying, “Israel has suffered oppression ever since its independence, and we have never had one day of real peace, yet the world continues to see us as oppressors.” He then added, “But we are a people of peace. We have always wanted peace with our neighbors, and we still do. The truth is, they do not seem to want peace with us.”

Next came the question, “How much do you fear Iran’s intentions to destroy you?” The Prime Minister replied, “We have learned from history to take seriously their calls to destroy the Jewish State."

Netanyahu was then asked, “Would you attack Iran?” He replied, “We will always reserve the right to defend ourselves. We will always keep all options on the table.” He went on to say, “Iran is the greatest threat to humanity today. It is important to the whole world that we do not allow the most dangerous weapons in the world fall into the hands of, or be manufactured by, the most dangerous people in the world.... We cannot trust Iran to be peaceful.”

“In your lifetime," the interviewer asked, "do you think you will see peace in the Middle East?” The Prime Minister answered: “I will say yes, with conviction. Not in all of the Middle East, but I think we will have peace with the Palestinians.” He stressed, “It will take a lot of courage. We are ready now, and we hope that the Palestinians will soon also respond with the same courage.”

With Trump's "Deal of the Century" soon to be unveiled, the world will have a chance to see if the Palestinians are viable partners at the negotiating table or if Israel will again "go it alone" as they did back in 2005 with the Gaza Disengagement.

Up the Mountain

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

It was a perfect time to visit the mountains. It always seems to be 10 to 15 degrees cooler than the foothills and even more so compared to the Sand Hills and Low Country.

Clear skies with a few clouds for a bit of contrast were above, and a winding county road was my path up the mountain to visit the quaint little town of Sparta.

When driving, I often listen to podcasts or CD’s that artists have sent or given me after or before an interview. On this day, I was enjoying the music of the group The Arcadian Wild, and as I grew closer to my destination, I noticed an increased sense of calm.

As I became mindful of this reality, the song Millstatt played with lyrics, “This must be where God comes to rest.” It was one of those moments when you feel yourself smiling, and life seems to balance out a bit.

Based on the never-ending request list, I’m not sure if God has a lot of time for much resting; however, I am confident that the rest of us are indeed most likely better off when we take time to rest, refuel and reflect. It may not be that way for everyone, but it is for me.

Soon I found myself on Main Street in Sparta. Sparta is one of those mountain towns that you are glad you found. If you like the idea of quaint streets, good people, great food options and a slower pace, then Sparta is a place for you to visit.

On this trip, I visited several of the shops in town including a charming used bookstore that always seems to have a good deal on something I can add to my Carolinas reference book. And with the Backwoods Beans Coffee Shop right down the street, it’s easy to be satisfied.

I cannot stress enough the importance of slowing down when visiting small towns in the Carolinas. When we slow down, we reap the benefits of uncovering great treasures of all sorts and delightful interactions with locals and visitors alike.

It was great visiting with Bob Bamberg, the current editor of the Alleghany News. They have been around since 1889, and they are still publishing a newspaper today. They have seen it all, or at least most of it.

A visit to the Visitors Center and Chamber of Commerce was enjoyable. I learned a lot from Executive Director Katee Hettleman, who also introduced me to “Gertie,” the artistic interactive alpaca. Sparta is known for its Fiber enthusiasts, so much so that they now host the annual Blue Ridge Fiber Fest that attracts attendees from multiple states.

There are several events throughout the year in Sparta, so if your travels bring you to this mountain town on event days, you will get a nice bonus for your travel journal.

Good news for the people of Sparta and us guests. Within a year or so, their new Street Scape program should be finished. It’s always nice to see history preserved and protected for the future.

I look forward to my next visit up the mountain, and you never know who might be taking their rest at higher elevations.

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