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maria-scribbles · 4 years

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loyalty’s all i got | part two

three years ago, you had it all: great friends, good grades, and an almost perfect relationship with your boyfriend, jj. it all came crashing down when your mom relocated your family to california for work and you were forced to trade the outer banks for malibu, leaving your broken heart behind in the place you were just starting to think of as home. now you're back in town for college and to pick up the pieces, hoping to make things right again with your friends and the boy you never stopped loving.

word count: 8.6k+

ship: jj maybank x female!reader, pogue friendship

warnings n stuff: angst angst angst all around (with a happy ending tho!!), the reader being a v. sad girl, mentions of anxiety/depression, failed long distance relationship, drifting apart, self-inflicted loneliness/isolation, the classic trope of 'they broke up but they're still in love with each other' that gives me feels, swearing (it's not my writing unless someone says 'fuck' at least once), reconciliation/mended relationships, traditional cheesy rom-com rain scene 'cause i'm a Dramatic Hoe™

a/n: and here's the second and final part of this looooong two-shot! thank you all so much for reading and i hope you enjoy the finale even though i low key kind of hate it 🙃. fun fact: surfrider beach is a real place in malibu known for its great waves :) also i apologize for how long this took to post, i dropped my laptop and the screen broke so i had to wait for it to get fixed lmao. unbetaed as usual, any mistakes are my b.

~masterlist~

part two: like a ghost that no one knew

When you said goodbye to your friends three years ago, you should've known things would never be the same again. You were sixteen, still so young and naïve and full of an almost childlike hope that kept you from seeing the obvious: life wasn't fair. Sometimes, you could be holding all the right cards and still lose the game.

It should've been easy. You had a video chat schedule already figured out, promises of daily texts and Snapchats, a boyfriend willing -enthusiastically willing, in fact- to go long distance and make it work no matter what 'cause you both agreed that what you had was something worth fighting for. You and your friends had weathered many storms together, what was one more? It could've been easy but you underestimated just how cruel California would be.

You traded one coast for the other and watched the sun set over the Pacific alone when you would've given anything to watch it rise over the Atlantic with your friends. It hurt to surf solo but you did it anyway, even though it felt like a damn sucker punch each time you caught yourself scanning the sand for JJ and his proud smile when you successfully caught bigger and bigger waves at Surfrider Beach.

Long distance was hard. You had days where all you wanted to do was lay on your bed for hours, safely curled up in his arms as he ran his fingers through your hair but you had to settle for his voice over the phone and one of his shirts from your closet instead. You missed everything about him: his pretty eyes that looked like the clearest ocean, the cheeky grin he'd send your way after making a stupid joke that had you affectionately rolling your eyes in exasperation, that adorable flush that spread across his face without fail each and every time you said you loved him. You longed for his constant affection; the way he always wanted to keep you close somehow, his arm around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers entwined with yours; how he could never go a day without kissing you. Being apart was nothing short of torture.

"I fucking miss you." He said late one night during a rare FaceTime session -his phone was a piece of shit so he had to 'borrow' John B's whenever he could- and you smiled despite the knife twisting itself deeper and deeper into your heart as you played with the fraying sleeve of his old sweatshirt you wore.

"I fucking miss you more, J." You whispered back, giggling quietly when he scrunched up his nose in playful skepticism.

"Yeah, I don't think so, babe. There's no way."

"Yes, way!"

Although it hurt like hell, you imagined being tangled up with him in the hammock hanging in the Chateau's yard under the North Carolina sky -the light from the moon would turn his blond hair a pale silver as he grinned down at you and cupped your cheek in his hand, closing that final distance between you for a kiss that'd fuel the fire racing through your veins- and you let that fleeting happiness carry you through the night, long after you said goodbye. You fell asleep with your phone in your hand, unaware that your mother had been listening from the other side of your closed door.

You'd been distant from her and your dad in the months since the move, obviously going out of your way to avoid them both by spending all your spare time surfing at the beach, coming home well past sunset and heading straight to your room without a word. They'd taught you forgiveness wasn't something to be given willingly -it had to be earned- and since neither of them had done anything worthy to deserve an absolution, you simply pretended they didn't exist and let yourself stew in your justified anger.

Until the morning after your video date with JJ, they'd wisely given you your space so you were pretty blind sighted to find them both waiting for you at the dining room table, one of your dad's famous cinnamon rolls on a plate set in front of your usual chair. You paused in the middle of tying one of your boyfriend's worn bandanas in your hair before abruptly continuing toward the front door, acting like you didn't see the hopeful looks on their faces that made guilt slowly start to burrow its way into your chest.

"Y/N, wait," Your dad sprung from his seat and reached his hand out toward your elbow, his face falling when you instantly pulled back and crossed your arms. "Please, let's just talk for a second."

"I'm gonna be late for the bus," You lied and tried for the door again, sighing in frustration when he blocked your path and ushered you toward the table where your mom was sitting, biting her thumbnail. The guilt burrowed deeper: you thought she kicked that habit years ago but there she was, chewing her nail to shreds and it was all because of you (the empty satisfaction you felt knowing you were the cause of her stress made you hate yourself just a little more.).

"Jellybean, don't worry about that. I'll drive you."

You bristled at the old nickname but sat in the chair your dad pulled out for you anyway. The smell of the cinnamon roll he pushed your way made your mouth water but you refused to eat and kept your eyes down as you played with the stack of bracelets adorning your wrist. "You wanted to talk?" You asked, deciding to just rip the band-aid off all at once 'cause knowing your mom when she was anxious and your dad being allergic to any type of confrontation, you'd have sat there all day until one of them worked up the courage to speak.

"Talk, right." Bill said with a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he took a seat and swiped his own cinnamon roll from the pan in the middle of the table. "Uh, how are you?"

"Are you serious right now?" You asked incredulously, looking up from your lap with a raised eyebrow. "All this for 'how are you?'"

"How would we know?" Your mom finally spoke up as she pulled her ruined nail from her mouth, only to start instantly drumming her fingers on the table. "You're always holed up in your room or at the beach, Y/N. You never talk to us anymore."

You rolled your eyes before fixing her with a deadpan stare. "Hmm, I wonder why."

"Honey, you know I'm sorry-"

"Don't, okay? Just don't." You swallowed thickly and dumped the cinnamon roll back into the pan, blinking away the awful burning pressure building behind your eyes. "I can't listen to some half-assed apology that you don't mean!"

"Y/N, we are sorry. Everything's gonna get better, just give it time." Your dad's reply was muffled by a mouthful of pastry and any other time, you'd usually be laughing at his chipmunk cheeks but instead you just stared back down at your hands again, lip quivering as you tried and failed to hold yourself together. You would not cry. You would not cry. You would not-

"Please, honey." Your mom tentatively reached out one hand like she was approaching a wounded animal, her voice so soft you could barely hear it above the rush of blood in your ears. "It hurts us to see you like this-"

Oh, fuck this shit.

"You're hurt?! Are you kidding me?" Your chair scraped along the tile as you rocketed to your feet, vision blurring when the dam finally broke. "You promised we wouldn't move again until after I graduated and you broke that promise. I let myself make friends for once in my goddamn life -I fucking fell in love, Mom! I fell in love with the most amazing boy who, by some miracle loves me, too despite me being a...a complete loser!" You were rambling now but you couldn't find it in yourself to care about or stop the words flying from your mouth.

"God, I was happy -so, so disgustingly happy it kind of scared me, okay?" You laughed bitterly and roughly wiped the tears from your cheeks, only to have more immediately take their place. "And you didn't even stop to think before you took it all away from me! So don't even talk to me about being hurt 'cause you have no fucking idea!"

Your dad was frozen, eyes the same color as your own blown impossibly wide in the middle of another bite of cinnamon roll while your mom, two tears streaking perfect twin tracks down her cheeks, looked at you like you'd just told her the world was ending -to her, it just might've been but to you, it already had. Neither of them said another word as you snatched your backpack off the couch and stormed from the house, slamming the door behind you.

Halfway to the bus stop, you decided school just wasn't in the cards that day and doubled back, hiding behind the shed in your backyard until your tears had run dry and both of your parents left -Rebekah to the hospital, Bill to wherever he went while you were in class- before heading inside to change into your rash vest and grab your board. Despite it being early Friday morning, Surfrider Beach was full of life and you welcomed the hustle and bustle as you turned off your phone and buried it at the bottom of your bag, leaving your problems behind on the sand.

You spent the whole day at the beach, blissfully alone and free to do what you wanted, until the sun dipped low in the sky and you were too exhausted to even think about anything but dragging yourself home so you could pass the fuck out. You caught one final wave before heading back to shore, waving goodbye to the group of other kids you'd surfed with all day (the one thing you loved about California: everyone was so chill) and trudged through the sand toward your things where, just as you expected, your sister sat on your towel, clad in a baggy UCLA long-sleeve with her phone in hand.

"Bitch, you killed it out there!" She looked up as you dropped your board to the ground and sat down heavily beside her, slipping an old Kildare County High School sweatshirt -the first one you ever 'borrowed' from your boyfriend, much to his delight- over your head. "I mean, look at you go!"

You leaned closer to watch the video she took, the barest hint of a smile on your face when you watched yourself perform a near perfect cutback on the screen. "That's 'cause I had the best teacher."

Daisy tagged you and posted it to Instagram before you could protest, then tossed the phone back into her bag and turned to you with a forced cheerfulness that kind of made you want to smack her. "So..."

"Mom and Dad sent you to clean up their mess." You finished quietly, tucking your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as your sister sighed dramatically and offered a sympathetic wince.

"As always." She copied your position and you both stared out at the sun sinking over the water, its fading rays turning the sky brilliant shades of orange and pink. It was typical of your parents to send Daisy after you when you were upset -after all, you'd both been each other's only friend for over half your lives- and normally, you'd be glad to see your sister's friendly face instead of your mom's or dad's. That evening, though? All you felt was...disappointment.

"Guess they really don't give a shit about me." You mumbled under your breath, half-hoping Daisy didn't hear you but from the way she snapped her head in your direction, you didn't get your wish.

"Y/N, that's not it. They're just..."

"Just what? Pretending that they didn't stab me in the back? Acting like everything's all hunky-dory and they actually cared about my feelings?"

You hastily wiped at your face when your sister silently looped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you against her side, her fingers running soothingly through the ends of your damp hair as you vented all of your frustrations -everything you'd kept locked deep inside your heart- until your voice was hoarse and the sun had long disappeared from the horizon and you had no tears left to cry.

"You have no idea what it's like, being so lonely it hurts to breathe. It hurts knowing Mom and Dad have each other and you have Daniel and I'm alone all the time." You lifted your head from her shoulder and rubbed your red eyes with your sleeve. "Worst part is, they just keep acting like I'll wake up one day and magically be okay and everything'll be all sunshine and rainbows again."

"First off, I wanna say that I'm sorry for not making more time for you. I knew you were struggling and I'm a terrible big sister for not being here for you like I should have," You squeezed Daisy's other hand in thanks as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her voice soft and steady like the waves crashing against the shore. "Second, I definitely don't think Mom and Dad are handling this the way they should, but I think they're trying in the only way they know how. That should count for something, right?"

You sighed and tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands. "I guess, but they haven't even tried to see where I'm coming from and they don't get that I'm not the only one they hurt. If I have to hear one more half-assed apology, I'm gonna lose my shit. Again."

"I'm not saying you have to forgive them right away 'cause I sure as hell wouldn't until they say they're sorry and mean it. But..." She said, pulling you to your feet and shaking the sand from the towel you were sitting on, "you shouldn't keep shutting them out, okay? It's not healthy."

You tucked your board under your arm as Daisy grabbed your bag and swung it onto her shoulder before you both started walking toward the parking lot. "What if I'm never ready to forgive them?"

"That's a question I don't have the answer to." She said with a shrug. "You've gotta figure that one out for yourself."

So you followed your sister's advice. You were civil and gradually, your relationship with your parents improved until you could stand to be in the same room as them and even carry on a short conversation, even though you knew you'd probably never be able to fully trust them again. You caught them exchanging glances you could only describe as wounded when you often turned down their invitations to go to the movies or get ice cream or other things you used to love doing when you were younger but for the most part, they took it in stride and you were grateful for their little efforts. Forgiveness wasn't in the cards quite yet but with each passing day, you felt the icy wall around your heart slowly start to melt away.

But every time you thought you were taking one step forward, life pushed you two steps back. Just when you were getting things back on track with your family, the train went flying off the rails when it came to your friends and it was all your fault.

It wasn't like you didn't try -God, did you try- to keep yourself from falling back into old habits but Malibu just had a way of bringing out the absolute worst in you. Your old self, the girl who kept to herself and pushed everyone away, someone you thought you buried in the deepest grave, slowly came back from the dead with a vengeance little by little, so subtly you didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

One missed phone call turned into two, texts went unanswered for days or not at all, FaceTime sessions happened less and less. The last video chat had been with Kiara and it ended terribly, after you blew up at her for mending her friendship with Sarah Cameron in the near two years since you'd been gone, spitting words you couldn't quite remember -something along the lines of 'didn't take you too long to replace me, huh' and calling the blonde girl a 'heinous bitch'- but knew you regretted with everything you had and hanging up before she had a chance to explain. You couldn't even recall the last time you talked to Pope or John B aside from the occasional Snapchat and your daily calls with JJ had turned to once a week, if you were lucky.

He was trying, you could tell, and so were you but the deck was stacked against you and you were never very good at cards, anyway. It hurt to try, it hurt not to try, everything just hurt. Nearly two years apart had done their damage and coupled with your debilitating fear of being forgotten that clawed at your chest like a rabid dog, your relationship was on unstable ground and for the first time in almost four years, you were thinking about the end. It wasn't like you didn't love him anymore (holy shit, were you still completely head over heels in love). In fact, you loved him so much you realized that he could do so, so much better than you and the thought rested heavy and bittersweet on your mind, lurking in the shadows until you were ready to bring it to light.

It happened on New Year's Eve. Alone in your room, your hands shook as you answered JJ's call at midnight, his voice tired and a little hoarse from celebrating the new year three hours earlier on the opposite coast and you nearly started crying right then and there when you replied with a shaky "I think we need to talk."

"Babe, what's wrong?"

You took a deep breath and said quietly, "Everything."

"Talk to me." The pure concern in those three words nearly convinced you to call it off, to tell him to forget you said anything and that you were fine, everything was just fine but deep down, you knew you couldn't.

"I've been thinking about us and I...I just think that you deserve better than me. Someone who can actually be there for you when you need her and hold you when your dad's an asshole and see you every day. Someone who can laugh at your silly jokes and share a joint with you and clean you up when you get into fights defending your friends-"

"Babe, what are you talking about? That girl is you."

"Maybe I was but I'm not anymore and I don't think I have been since I left. I just can't be the girl you want, I can't be the girl you deserve, J -I'm a total fucking mess and you can do so, so much better than me."

"Y/N."

You didn't know you were crying until you heard the broken way he breathed your name and salt water dripped from your chin onto the bracelet around your wrist.

"...are you breaking up with me?" His voice was impossibly small, the quietest you'd ever heard it and the exact moment your battered heart shattered into pieces was when you realized he didn't even put up a fight.

"I think so." The words tore through you like a gunshot as you cried, curling into yourself on the bed in an effort to ward off the worst pain you'd ever felt in your life and you wondered if it was possible to die from a wound that wasn't even physical.

He was quiet for a long time, so long you thought he hung up without you noticing through your tears, until he sniffed on the other end of the line.

"Guess we had a pretty good run, huh?" He asked with a watery chuckle and you found yourself giving a tiny, shuddering giggle in response -God, even when you were breaking his heart he still managed to make you laugh.

"The best, baby." The pet name slipped out like second nature and you winced, hastily trying to cover your mistake with an awkward cough but from the sharp breath you heard him take, he'd heard it anyway.

("I'm sorry," you said, and it stood as an apology for more than just your slip-up.)

"I love you, Y/N. Probably always will."

"I'll never stop loving you, JJ. That's a promise."

You let yourself believe him as you laid there bleeding from a gash you couldn't see, a wound you knew would never heal, and you hoped he let himself believe you, too, even when you ended the call without another word and threw your phone away from you, not bothering to see where it landed. The sound of your heavy, broken sobs filled the room and you didn't even mind when your mom, who you knew had been listening from the other side of your closed door like always, barged in and took you into her arms, stroking your hair as you cried into her lap.

If you were supposed to avoid getting hurt by leaving first, why did it feel like everything in you was broken? If you were making the right choice, why did it feel so wrong? You didn't have the answers and no matter how hard you searched, you knew you'd ever find them.

So you tried to stay busy. You joined the surf club at school, got a part-time job at the local aquarium, did anything you could to distract yourself from the hurt and the guilt and the way getting out of bed every morning was the hardest thing to do. Surf club introduced you to Mackenzie, the one girl who was more ostracized at school -an even richer version of the kook academy you hated -than you, her for being freakishly tall and you for your East Coast attitude, and the two of you became fast, if reluctant friends. Mack didn't try to stitch the gaping hole in your heart caused by your absent friends but she numbed the pain just enough to make it bearable and you were grateful for her calm, steady presence at your side, even as you both tried to keep each other at arm's length.

Later, you found out she was just like you, friendless and awkward with no self-esteem and a tendency to push people away, and that just cemented your friendship through the summer and your final year of high school.

Mack told you all about her life, growing up with no siblings, having height that she never learned to deal with, and a debilitating social anxiety that made making friends near impossible, and in turn you told her about how you hopped from town to town on your mother's whims, the wonderful friends you let slip away, and the beautiful boyfriend you loved enough to let go, and you both cried together for the lives you could've led.

"You two looked so happy," She said during the first sleepover you hosted as she held one of the many picture frames littering your dresser, her lips turned upwards in a small smile.

You gently took the frame from her hands and ran your fingers over the grinning face of your ex-boyfriend, his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your painted lips planted a deep red kiss on his cheek, and the wave of longing washing over you was almost strong enough to bring you to your knees. "It was the happiest I've ever been."

"Do you miss him?"

"So much it hurts."

i miss you.

i'm so sorry.

i still love you.

You'd typed and erased those texts every day but never mustered the courage to hit send and you couldn't decide if that was a blessing in disguise or the worst possible curse. Of course you still loved JJ: you promised you would and even if you didn't, you couldn't stop if you tried. He was your first love, the boy you so willingly gave your whole heart and then some; you still kept his ring on your thumb -the one he gave you at the airport the day you left- and his bracelet around your wrist, his bandanas in your hair and his face in your dreams and you knew you always would.

Before you could blink, your eighteenth birthday flew by and graduation was upon you.

You thought the second you were done with high school you'd be gone, heading straight back to the Outer Banks and the life you left behind but you found yourself stalling on sending in an application to UNC -Chapel Hill until you missed the deadline for the fall semester. On the outside, you made up a semi-legit excuse about getting your basic courses done at a community college to save money but deep down you really knew why you procrastinated: you were terrified to go back. Ever since your break up with JJ, you hadn't spoken to him or any of your old friends other than the obligatory birthday wishes on Facebook and you wondered if the damage you'd done over the years was too much to come back from, even as you tried to work up the courage to find out for sure.

Another year passed: in between earning college credits, you and Daisy took a sister's trip to Disneyland, Mack asked you to tag along on a jaunt up the coast to San Francisco to see Alcatraz, your parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary (your gift was long-overdue forgiveness and they said it was the greatest thing you possibly could've given them). When the time came, you and Mack both sent out your applications to UNC -you for biology, her for chemistry- and the myriad of emotions you felt when you got in was nothing short of dizzying. The old you was terrified, screaming at you to rip up the letter and join your sister at UCLA instead of opening old wounds but the hopeful you, the girl who lived without fear, the girl who fell in love and let herself be loved, screamed louder.

And so you killed the old you once again, burying her even deeper than the last time in a locked chest and throwing the key as far as you could out into the Pacific where you knew you'd never find it. You clutched your acceptance letter close to your chest and took a step east, away from California and toward the place where your broken heart still rested, scattered in pieces across the sand.

Settling in at UNC was surprisingly easy. You and Mack already clicked pretty well as friends so making the transition to roommates was natural and, dare you say it, even a little fun and the two of you quickly fell into a comfortable routine in your tiny apartment off campus in Chapel Hill. Comfortable and yet...that happiness you once felt all those years ago was missing from your life and you found yourself just as restless as you were in Malibu. While you knew exactly what you needed to do, that fear kept rearing its ugly head in the back of your mind, poisoning your thoughts: what if they wouldn't be happy to see you, what if they forgot about you, what if they hated you? What if he hated you?

It was terrifying, picturing yourself turning up at the Chateau with a hopeful smile only to have the door slammed right in your face. Deep down, you knew they'd never do that to you no matter how badly you'd hurt them but when you'd spent your whole life expecting the worst, taking a leap of faith wasn't an easy feat -something Mack just couldn't wrap her head around.

"I don't get it."

You glanced up from where you were lounging on your bed, flipping through your biology notes in preparation for your lab exam the next morning and shot your roommate a confused look. "Get what?”

Mack sat at your desk, her own notebooks lying ignored as she spun the chair around to face you, arms crossed. "Why you haven't hopped on that ferry to go get your man yet!"

You froze for a moment too long before offering a half-hearted shrug as you fiddled with the beads at the end of your bracelet. "It's not that easy. He probably wants nothing to do with me and I don't blame him."

"How do you know? You haven't talked to JJ in over a year, right?" At your tight nod, she continued, "What if he's just like you-"

"Depressed?"

Mack fixed you with a flat, unamused look. "Still in love, dumbass."

You scoffed and propped your chin in your hand as you glanced back down at your study guide, trying not to latch onto that little thought -hope and pain all rolled into one- that sparked to life at her words. He'd said he would probably always love you that New Year's Eve and back then you'd let yourself believe him but now, you weren't so sure. "Yeah, right. No way he's still...still in love with me after I broke his heart."

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't," Your roommate said with a shrug, spinning around on the chair to grab her things. "You'll never know if you don't get over there, track his fine ass down, and talk to him."

You stared down at your notes without actually seeing anything, the slanted letters of your handwriting blurring before your eyes as the other girl flipped her chemistry book closed and stood, shooting you an warm smile that you didn't see.

"Listen, Y/N, you're my best friend and I want to see you happy more than anything but I can't take that jump for you. Yeah, it's scary and nerve wracking and you might end up hurt worse than before, so what? That's just...life."

Mack left after that, crossing the apartment to her room so she could get ready for a date with a girl from her psych class, leaving you alone with tears on your face and a million thoughts in your head, all of them terrifying and exciting and oh so loud.

She was right, of course -Mack always knew the right thing to say- and as you stared down at the bracelets on your wrists and the ring on your thumb, the pictures on your phone and the too-big shirt hanging off one shoulder, you realized sitting around moping wasn't gonna solve anything; if you wanted your happiness, your friends, the love of your life back, you needed to step up and fight for them with everything you had. And so you wiped the tears from your cheeks and walked to the cliff's edge with your head held high, ready for the fall and whatever came with it. You were ready to fix your mistakes, no matter how badly it might hurt.

Still, you couldn't do it all on your own. You needed some help to make things right again and while you knew just who to ask, you weren't quite sure if they'd be willing to lend a hand. Desperate times called for desperate measures though and you penned a good old-fashioned letter, feeling like a heroine in a Jane Austen novel as you poured all your thoughts -your dreams, wishes, hopes- onto a piece of paper in bold blue ink and sent it off to its destination on Figure 8, your Hail Mary for a happy ending sealed up neatly in a single envelope.

Mack, bless her heart, did her best to keep your spirits up as you waited on a response but even her ever reassuring presence couldn't keep you from worrying as one week passed by, then two. Halfway through the third you'd almost given up, already wracking your brain for another way to make your plan work when your phone chimed with a text from an unknown number.

i'll help you

And just like that, the moment you'd been waiting for was finally within your reach; you told your parents not to expect you for Thanksgiving break, called your sister for a much needed pep talk, and started counting down the days until you'd see your friends again, for better or worse.

When you left the Outer Banks three years ago, it was sunny. You were sixteen, young and in love and scared about the future.

When you returned, it was in the middle of a storm. You were nineteen, a little bit older but no less in love and definitely still scared about what was waiting for you at the end of the road.

Rain pounded against the roof of Sarah Cameron's SUV as she drove away from the docks and toward the Chateau, her fingers tapping along to the music playing quietly through the radio. You sat in the passenger seat, soaked to the bone from your ferry ride from the mainland and shaking like a leaf despite the towel wrapped around your shoulders and the warm air flowing from the car's vents.

"Thanks for coming to get me," You said, wincing at the awkward lilt of your voice echoing in the small space as you spun JJ's ring around your thumb and stared out the windshield at the familiar sights streaking by in blurred shades of green and brown. Being back opened a Pandora's box of emotions in your head, both good and bad, and instead of trying to sort them out, you let them bounce around in your brain like a pinball machine and concentrated on methodically twirling the warm metal ring in circles on your finger.

Sarah briefly glanced away from the road to shoot you a small smile, her kind eyes softening at your visible nervousness. "Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure you hated me so when I got your letter it kinda...threw me for a loop. Sorry it took me so long to reply."

You wished the heated leather seat would swallow you whole as you winced again and wrapped the towel tighter around your shoulders. "For the longest time, I thought I did hate you but I realized I was just...scared of losing my friends and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve to be labeled the villain in my story when I was the one, um, sabotaging myself, I guess." You took a deep breath and picked at a loose thread tickling your arm. "And I'm really, really grateful for your help."

It was more than you wanted to admit out loud -nearly the same words were written in the letter peeking out from the center console of the car- but at the same time, you knew it was what needed to be said and from the way the blonde girl's fingers stopped tapping against the steering wheel, she knew she needed to hear it. At a red light, she quickly tapped out a text on her phone before tossing in back into her bag with another tiny grin in your direction.

"Happy to help. For what it's worth, I'm so sorry if I made you feel like you were being replaced, I never intended to hurt you or steal your friends or...or, I don't know, usurp-"

"Sarah, stop. Please," You held up a hand to cut off her apology and offered her a self-deprecating smile. "I'm the one who's sorry. I let my...jealousy get the best of me and I feel so bad about all the shit I said 'cause that wasn't fair to you at all and I hope you can forgive me-"

"Y/N, there's nothing to forgive! We all say stupid shit when we're mad -trust me, I know." She interrupted with a bubbly, contagious giggle that seemed to scare away the gloomy storm clouds gathered over your head for a moment in time. "But I was never pissed at you, ever. I just want you to know that."

Stunned, you settled deeper into the seat and started playing with your ring again as she kept driving on, unbothered by your lack of response. You felt like you were thirteen again, back when Sarah and Kiara were your only friends, before the birthday disaster and the whole pogue versus kook feud that got completely out of hand; it felt...nice and you found yourself hoping that the blonde girl would still want to be your friend again, no matter what the others thought about your sudden return.

"Thank you."

Sarah gave no indication she heard your quiet confession of gratitude but from the way you watched her smile grow out of the corner of your eye, you knew she did. The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence as you retreated into your own thoughts, your nerves getting worse and worse the closer you got to your destination.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose, feeling like your heart was trying to beat its way through your rib cage. You hadn't been this anxious in a long, long time, so long you almost forgot how much you hated the tightness in your chest, how your palms would start to sweat, the way you'd chew the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood on your tongue. By the time Sarah pulled into an open spot beside the achingly familiar Volkswagen parked in front of the Chateau, you were surprised you were still able to breathe.

The sight of the tiny house, one you spent so many carefree days and beautiful nights in alongside your friends, standing virtually unchanged in front of you was like a shot to the heart and your hands, curled into fists on your lap, began to shake without warning. Shit, you were a godforsaken mess; how the hell were you supposed to do this without having a mental breakdown?

"I'm so scared."

The whispered words, barely audible over the torrential rain against the roof, slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and Sarah slowly reached one hand over to give your trembling wrist a reassuring squeeze, the corners of her mouth curled upward in a slight smile.

"Don't be. They're gonna be so happy to see you!"

You turned to look at her, eyebrows knit together in disbelief. "How are you so sure they still care about me?"

"I'm sure 'cause I've seen it. My God, if only you could've heard all the times they talked about you -'I wish Y/N was here,' 'remember that time with Y/N,' hell, just straight 'I miss Y/N so fucking much,'" She said bluntly and shifted in the driver's seat to face you head on, smiling wider at the thunderstruck look on your face. "Pretty sure I haven't gone a week without JJ saying that last one at least once."

"I thought..." You paused, tongue darting out to run over your dry lips as you tried to put your jumbled feelings into words, "I thought he'd hate me -I mean, after all I've done, you think he still..."

"Loves you? Are you kidding?" Her reply was so enthusiastic it was hard not to believe her as she went on, her words like sunshine brightening the darkest corners of your mind. "He's still head over heels, I've never seen him even look at another girl in three damn years. You know he still wears your necklace, the one with the silver star? Kie told me all about it."

"I-I didn't." You remembered giving it to him the day you left, managing a shaky smile through your tears as you carefully clasped it around his neck, your fingers running over his skin as you settled the charm perfectly alongside that little shark tooth you'd grown to love.

('Be careful with this, baby. It's my favorite.' You had said, crying harder when he'd taken off one of his rings and slipped it onto your thumb.

'Well, this one's my favorite so take good care of it, okay?' His voice had been light but his eyes were heavy with unspoken words that you'd heard loud and clear because you knew your gaze said the exact same things.

don't let me go

don't break my heart

don't stop loving me)

You coughed to disguise the fat tears that started rolling down your face, quickly wiping them away with your sleeve but the blonde girl wasn't fooled as she gave your hand another friendly squeeze.

"Come on, they're probably wondering what's taking me so long," She sent a conspiratorial wink your way and grabbed her bag from the center console. "I told them I was picking up some pizzas but I have a funny feeling they won't be too pissed that I lied."

With a desperate grip on the strap of your backpack and your heart racing, you trailed behind Sarah through the rain to the front porch.

"Ready?" She glanced back where you lingered at the top of the stairs, anxiously shuffling from foot to foot, and shot you a smile that did little to calm your nerves. "Just wait here!"

She knocked on the door before you could reply and yelled loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain, "Hey, it's me! Can somebody get the door? My hands are kinda full."

"Got it!"

Your bag slipped from your fingers and fell onto the porch with a loud thump at the sound of the voice floating through the open windows, a voice you heard nearly every night as you slept, in your dreams of a future you wanted with everything you had. You knew it better than your knew your own, knew every pitch and tone and lilt; quiet and raspy in the mornings when you woke up in each other's arms, loud and carefree during long days spent under the golden sun with the rest of your friends, soft and warm and laid bare at night when he showed how much he loved you with more than just words.

Sarah gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping to the side just as the door opened and you suddenly found yourself struggling to breathe as you stared into the wide blue eyes of your ex-boyfriend. JJ stared right back, one of the hands you used to hold clenched so tight around the doorknob his knuckles were white, the lips you used to kiss parted in surprise, the blond hair you used to run your fingers through falling onto his forehead like always and the familiar, beautiful sight of him standing close enough to touch made your knees weak.

"You're not pizza."

It was such a JJ thing to say and you didn't know whether to laugh or cry as you swallowed thickly and shook your head. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not."

"Oh."

Hope flared white hot in your chest at his words but it quickly started to fade, replaced by fear when he made no move toward you, his fingers still gripping tight to the door, and you felt your face start to heat in embarrassment as Sarah looked back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match.

God, you were so stupid. What did you expect would happen, showing up out of the blue after over a year of no contact? Everything would fall into place again with just one long, heavy look? Believing it could be that easy turned you into a complete and total fool, tongue-tied and insecure and weak.

"Yo, what's the hold up?" John B's voice asked from inside the house and Sarah leaned down to call through the open window, "Come out here and find out!"

A wave of dizziness hit you like a truck and you took a sudden step back toward the stairs, arms wrapping around your stomach as it twisted itself into knots. "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake." You didn't notice the stricken look that crossed JJ's face or the three familiar, stunned expressions that appeared behind him in the darkened doorway before turning away and stumbling off the porch toward the road, leaving your bag behind and you definitely didn't notice how you barely made it off the bottom stair before a set of footsteps hastily gave chase.

"It wasn't a mistake, Y/N!" JJ's desperate voice stopped you in your tracks, halfway across the yard with more than just rain running down your face. "Not to me, never to me."

His soft touch on your wrist sent shockwaves through your body and you instantly became putty in his hands, letting him turn you around without a fight to face him, watching in fascination as the downpour started to darken his gray shirt and flatten his hair against his forehead. Three years hadn't changed much about him -he was a little taller, hair a little longer, the muscles in his arms a little more defined- and when you met his wide-eyed gaze, beads of rain dripping from his long eyelashes like diamonds, you wondered if he was thinking about the differences time created between the younger you of the past and the you of the right now, too.

"Oh." You repeated dumbly, struggling for something, anything to say that didn't make you sound like an illiterate fool. Even at nineteen, words still weren't your strong suit so you let your actions speak for you as your hand reached out on its own accord to caress the silver star still clasped around his neck, the thumb still wearing his ring brushing slowly against the dip between his collarbones; he shivered, and you weren't really sure if it was from your touch or the cold.

"Y/N." JJ said your name like a prayer, like he couldn't believe you were there in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when both of his hands slowly, carefully moved to cup your face, his calloused thumbs habitually wiping the tears from your cheeks over and over, even as more instantly replaced the ones he swept away. "I fucking missed you."

You stood there, looking like a damned drowned rat with your hair dripping into your eyes, shivering in your soaked jeans and Kildare County High School sweatshirt, the love of your life cradling your face so gently in his hands, and so many things you wanted to say flooding your brain but only the one that mattered the most managed to get by your trembling lips.

"I'm still in love with you."

You noticed a lot when you put your heart on the line: the steady, soothing sound of water falling through the trees, the bright, clean taste of rain on your tongue, how the sun was just barely starting to peek out from behind the stormy clouds, but they all paled in comparison to the little things you noticed about the boy in front of you; blue irises made even brighter by the red rimming his eyes, how he stepped closer on the wet grass until the tips of his scuffed boots touched your worn gray high tops, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly against your flushed face.

"Well, it's your lucky day 'cause I'm still in love with you, too."

All of the breath left your lungs in one big rush when JJ smiled hopefully -oh, how you loved everything about that smile: his slightly crooked teeth, that dimple in his cheek, the endearing pink blush swept across his nose- and you felt yourself return it without a second thought, your own hope once again burning bright in your chest.

"Even after...everything?" Your voice shook like the fingers you slid into the hair at his nape and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, close enough you could feel his breath on your lips when he spoke.

"I told you I'd always love you, didn't I?"

You nodded, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he tilted his head just so and gently bumped your nose with his. You remembered all the times he did that through the years, a dizzying slideshow of memories that flashed through your mind like lightning, and your fingers wove themselves deeper in his hair.

"I have so many things to apologize for," You said with a tiny, quiet shake of your head, tearing your eyes away from his in shame and staring over his shoulder toward where the rest of your friends watched from the porch, all crowded together at the top of the stairs with identical enthralled expressions on their faces. "There are so many mistakes I've made and people I've hurt and I have no idea how to even start saying sorry for it all."

"Babe."

The sound of your old pet name caused your gaze to snap right back to his and your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest when one of his hands trailed down the sensitive skin of your neck and then lower until it traced along the curve of your hip and left a line of fire in its wake.

"We'll figure that out later, okay?" JJ said as his fingers tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind your ear, a coy, ardent grin on his face. "'Cause I've been waiting three years to kiss you again and if I don't get to do it soon, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind."

You smiled -a wide, joyful, elated smile- and rose up on your tiptoes in anticipation. "Then kiss me."

You didn't have to tell him twice. His lips pressed against yours desperately, like he needed you to breathe, like you were the very air in his lungs, religiously, like your mouth was the altar and he was there to worship as he pulled you close, the fingers of one hand tangling in your hair while the others dug into your hip. You kissed him back just as hard and the familiar taste of him on your tongue -mint, smoke, salt- sent that dearly missed spark racing through your veins like wildfire.

It was a little cliché, having your long-awaited reunion kiss in the rain but it was honest and candid and real and so much better than anything you could've dreamed. You lost yourself in his touch like you used to, clinging to him like a lifeline and pouring your whole heart into every fierce brush of your lips against his, both of you pulling away for a moment only to dive right back in each time. It was addictive, intoxicating, and you could've spent the rest of your life standing there in the middle of the yard and kissing like there was no tomorrow if a loud, ear-piercing wolf whistle hadn't come from the direction of the porch.

The two of you broke apart just barely, with foreheads still pressed together and swollen lips, and you couldn't stop yourself from giggling when JJ blindly flipped the bird over his shoulder before pulling you back in for another eager kiss that filled your whole body with an exhilarating, heavenly heat that never faded, even after four enthusiastic voices suddenly surrounded you like an excited swarm of nosy, buzzing bees.

"You aren't the only one who missed her, J." Kiara said, smiling widely as you reached out to grab her hand and pull her into a powerful one-armed hug, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"Yeah, stop hogging all the love!" John B added, throwing himself into the pile along with Pope, who slung an arm around your shoulders as he said, "Great to have you back, Y/N."

Sarah was the last to join and she quietly tucked herself under John B's arm with a pleased grin on her face, nodding when you mouthed 'thank you' in her direction. The six of you stood there in the rain, smiling like fools, and as the sun started to scare away the dark clouds overhead and in your heart, a weight you didn't even realize had been crushing your chest slowly began to lift away with each freeing breath.

You still had a lot of work to do: wrongs to be righted, apologies to be made, explanations -not excuses- to be given for every shitty thing you did in your past. But as happy tears started streaming down your face once again and you felt the arms of the friends you’d thought were lost to you forever tighten around you at the sight, you knew in your bones all would be forgiven. You knew that after three long years, you'd finally come home.

let me know what you think! i read each and every one of your comments and cry because they mean so much to me! ❤

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @cordeliascrown @maysbanks @jjpogueprincess @bibliophilewednesday @k-n-e @jiaraendgame @alexa-playafricabytoto @heypearce @sexualparkour (send me an ask if you’d like to be added or removed!)

#outer banks #obx fic #jj maybank #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x y/n #obx imagine #obx netflix #outer banks imagine #jj maybank x you #kiara carrera #john b #john b routledge #pope heyward #sarah cameron

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choquejuergas · 3 years

Text

sally rooney, conversations with friends

“i had no plans as to my future financial sustainability: i never wanted to earn money for doing anything. i’d had various minimum-wage jobs in previous summers —sending emails, making cold calls, things like that — and i expected to have more of them after i graduated. though i knew that i would eventually have to enter full-time employment, i certainly never fantasised about a radiant future where i was paid to perform an economic role. sometimes this felt like a failure to take an interest in my own life, which depressed me. on the other hand, i felt that my disinterest in wealth was ideologically healthy. i’d checked what the average yearly income would be if the gross wold product were divided evenly among everyone, and according to wikipedia it would be $16,000. i saw no reason, political or financial, ever to male more money than that”

“i could perform each poem for a period of about six months after i’d written it, after which point i couldn’t stand to look at it, never mind read it aloud in public. i didn’t know what caused this process, but i was glad the poems were only ever performed and never published. they floated away ethereally to the sound of applause. real writers, and also painters, had to keep on looking at the ugly things they had done for good. i hated that everything i did was so ugly, but also that i lacked the courage to confront how ugly it was”

“i made myself take an hour before responding. i watched some cartoons on the internet and made a cup of coffee. then i read his email again several times. i was relieved he had put the whole thing in lower case like he always did. it would have been dramatic to introduce capitalisation at such a moment of tension”

“we always took the cheapest flights, early in the morning or late at night, and as a consequence we usually spent the first day of the trip feeling irritable and trying to find free wifi”

“the bus took us through verdant countryside, which a white mist had settled over, shot through with sunlight. on the bus radio, voices chatted lightly in french, laughing sometimes, and then there was music. we passed farmland on either side, vineyards with hand-painted signs and immaculate drive-through bakeries advertised in neat sans-serif lettering. very few cars were on the roads, it was early”

“i was lying on my front, so i couldn’t see the children’s faces, but occasionally in my peripheral vision i caught a blur of primary colour, a spade or bucket, or a flash of ankle”

“a searing anxiety developed inside me at this thought, in the same form it always took no matter what external stimulus triggered it: first the realisation that i would die, then that everyone else would die, and then that the universe itself would eventually experience heat death, a kind of thought sequence that expanded outward endlessly in forms too huge to be contained inside my body. i trembled, my hands were clammy, and i felt sure i would be sick again. i punched my leg meaninglessly as if that would prevent the death of the universe”

“i believed in small jobs, like raising children, picking fruit, cleaning. they were the jobs i considered the most valuable, the jobs that struck me as deserving the most respect of all"

“gradually the waiting began to feel less lie waiting and more like this was simply what life was: the distracting tasks undertaken while the thing you are waiting for continues not to happen. i applied for jobs and turned up for seminars. things went on”

“the church smelled of stale incense and dry air. columns of stained glass rose up behind the altar like long piano-playing fingers and the ceiling was the white and mint-green colour of confectionery”

“instead of thinking gigantic thoughts, i tried to focus on something small, the smallest thing i could think of. someone once made this pew i’m sitting on, i thought. someone sanded the wood and varnished it. someone carried it into the church. someone laid the tiles on the floor, someone fitted the windows. each brick was placed by human hands, each hinge fitted on each door, every road surface outside, every bulb in every streetlight. and even things built by machines were really built by human beings, who built the machines initially. and human beings themselves, made by other humans, struggling to create happy children and families. me, all the clothing i wear, all the language i know. who put me here in this church, thinking these thoughts? other people, some i know very well and others i have never met. am i myself, or am i them? is this me, frances? no, it is not me. it is the others. do i sometimes hurt and harm myself, do i abuse the unearned cultural privilege of whiteness, do i take the labour of others for granted, have i sometimes exploited a reductive iteration of gender theory to avoid serious moral engagement, do i have a troubled relationship with my body, yes. do i want to be free of pain and therefore demand that others also live free of pain, the pain which is mine and therefore also theirs, yes, yes. when i opened my eyes i felt that i had understood something, and the cells of my body seemed to light up like millions of glowing points of contact, and i was aware of something profound. then i stood up from my seat and collapsed”

“i got up from the table, put the kettle on, and emptied two spoonfuls of coffee into the french press. i took some painkillers, i drank the coffee, i watched a murder mystery on netflix. a certain peace had come to me and i wondered if it was god’s doing after all. not that god existed in any material way but as a shared cultural practice so widespread that it came to seem materially real, like language or gender”

“it was dark then, and everything was gathered around points of light: shop windows, faces flushed with cold, a row of taxis idling along the kerb. i heard a shake of reins and the sound of hooves across the street. entering the park through aside gate the noise of traffic seemed to turn itself down, like it caught in the bare branches and dissolved in air. my breath laid a white path in front of me”

#sally rooney #conversations with friends #literature

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katiebruce · 3 years

Text

adios, amigo.

Well, 2020. What is there to say that hasn’t already been said, tweeted or Instagram-ed a thousand and two times about you? I’ll save us all the generic stuff—“unprecedented,” “nightmarish,” “absurd”—yes, 2020 was all of those things, but on a deeper, more personal level, there is so much more I have to say that doesn’t fit quite into those clichés.

So, this will be my attempt to document and reflect upon one of the strangest years I’ve encountered in my thirty-one years on this planet. Buckle up, buttercup.

Like many others before me have frequently observed, the way I spend my New Year’s Eve has always set the tone for the year to come, and boy, was this year a picture-perfect example of exactly that. Because I had to work on January first, I spent my New Year’s Eve at home watching a depressing movie with T, quietly kissing on the cold back patio as fireworks went off in the distance. I remember feeling both happy and sad about this evening (a duality that was a major theme for me for the fifty-two weeks to come, if only I had known). I was sad not to be celebrating my favorite holiday and even remember telling T that I didn’t want the year to come to be one I spent not going out, staying home, and becoming reclusive as I finished up the stressful process of finishing my MFA thesis in the course of ten (or, what I thought would be ten) short months.

But on the other hand, being held in T’s arms, I remembered feeling so happy that I could have this little quiet holiday—something that felt so private and personal—so entirely our own. It really set the tone for our relationship for the year, and for the obstacles we not only overcame together but dominated, one right after the next.

January was cold, snowy, and full of flight cancellations, which I remember to be something worth celebration at the time. I stayed home and snuggled my way into Aquarius season, the time for me and my brethren to shine, feeling positive that I had lived my thirtieth year to one of great satisfaction and maximum travels taken. (If only I had known then that that late-January El Paso layover where my crew and I walked across the border into Juarez to eat street tacos and laugh over Mezcal would be one of the only times I would leave the country for the year, well, I might have taken a few shots of tequila and really enjoyed my stay abroad just a bit longer).

February came, and with it, the promise of friends. My darling Kristopher, as always, flew to Chicago on the day of (also the day I completed and passed my eighth recurrent [!]) and, thanks to my other darling baby, Nicole, scored tickets to one of the highly coveted format reunion tour shows happening in March* for me, her, and my momma.

(*It did not, in fact, take place in March).

I turned thirty-one in the way I’ve come accustomed too—surrounded by my favorite people (this year at Dorians—a jazz club to end all jazz clubs) too drunk and too smiley to even coherently remember the evening properly. As much fun as I remember having, I told T that I thought it was my last year to host some sort of birthday gathering, and to hold me to it come next year. (He did very well—a few weeks later, after spotting an ad in a discarded newspaper for the Chicago tour of Moulin Rouge happening on my birthday weekend, we bought tickets and I sat peacefully with the fact that one of my new year (or, new age) resolutions was so quickly and poignantly adapted).

By this time, I was already deep in the throes of my first thesis writing course, meaning that I was pretty stressed out all of the time and surely a misery to be around (sorry to those of you who were). Basically, in three semesters’ time, I was expected to draft, edit, and rewrite a fully formed novel (70,000+ words) and the idea of accomplishing such a feat felt like a ton of bricks being carried on my shoulders. I had at least four mental breakdowns in the beginning of the year (again, we all know what lays ahead for the year, I know—but at the time, this seemed like an unbearable amount of stress for one person to have to carry. The joke is not lost on me).

In the coming weeks, things began to get even weirder. Covid scares began sprouting up in cities all around us, and as the government asked people to stay at home, airline ticket prices became massively reduced, so more people began traveling. I mean, this shit was like spring break on acid—it was hugely stressful, and though the threat of the pandemic had yet to reach Chicago, I felt more and more at risk with each passing day as careless amounts of people cashed in on what they thought was the deal of a lifetime.

By the time March reached its midpoint, I, like so many others, was terrified. We had no PPE at work—literally nothing. No gloves, masks, or even hand wipes. Cleaning the aircraft still wasn’t considered a “no-go” item, as far as regulatory practices go. I remember watching the news on my layovers only to keep myself up at night wondering if the virus was going to take hold of me or anyone around me, and if so, how long until they would recover, or perhaps wouldn’t.

St. Patrick’s Day came, and after fighting about whether or not to go out with friends (we didn’t—and for the record, T and I rarely fight—but this was, after all, his first St. Patrick’s Day as a Chicagoan—so his resentment was more than justified) we saw a matinee movie (Onward) and while in the theater, read about how Chicago restaurants, as a precaution, were shutting down the next day due to rising concerns about the spread of the virus. We reacted by grabbing drinks & lunch at one of our favorite neighborhood eateries and tipping the waitstaff more heavily than I think I’ve ever tipped anyone in my life (not mentioning this to brag, or whatever—just remembering what it was like to feel utterly helpless and unsure of what to do or what was to come—we had to find our positivity in some way, and on that day, this was how we saw fit, and it helped).

Then it all sort of happened at once—Lauren’s store was closed with no impending reopening date. The grocery stores (and I swear to god, I will never forget this) became a madhouse—people taking things out of other people’s carts when they weren’t looking. I remember going into Mariano’s with T and insisiting we tie bandanas around our faces for safety, feeling like a goddamn bank robber about to make a heist. But there was nothing left to even take. Frantically, we got what we could and got out of there, and I went home to have a full-fledged panic attack about the state of the world we were currently living in and what we were going to do if things didn’t turn around quickly.

As if overnight, everyone cancelled their airline tickets. It was for the better, and though it put my job in serious jeopardy, I was in massive support of it but still felt an eerie sadness looming around the countless empty airports, airplanes, hotels and city streets. There were times when my crew and I were the only guests in a place—times when I had zero passengers on a revenue flight. And then came the mass flight cancellations—and I mean mass. Everyday became a battle of anxiety as to what was going to happen to my job in the next twenty-four hours, and then cooing my stressed-out thoughts to sleep, only to relive the anxiety with every phone buzz waiting to find out if I had lost my job overnight. By mid-spring, I was hugely considering dropping out for a period of time, just due to the stress of it all, but thanks to support from my friends, family and T, I chose to stick it out and roll with as many punches as I could until I was finally knocked-out.

Quarantines were happening all around me, and without the ability to travel or the (former) grueling expectations of maintaining a social life, I started to reconnect with myself in ways that felt both organic and new, yet much like returning home after a long time away. Lauren taught me to knit, and we celebrated her birthday on the floor of our apartment in an Indian-food induced daze renting Emma and making thousands of tiny knots onto needles that would eventually become blankets. We took walks, did puzzles, and Lauren drove me to and from the airport on the rare occasion that I actually had a flight to work, as the CTA had, unfortunately, become a cesspool of targeted attacks on flight crew members (seriously) because they were often the only person in any given train car.

A rare glimpse of optimism then presented itself via two different opportunities: a chance to take a ninety-day leave from work, and a job offer in the form of editing a book for publication. I said yes to both and hoped that I would be able to take a step back and deal with the crumbling world around me easier with both of these opportunities now on my horizon.

This period of the year (May-July) started off swimmingly. Knitting, reading, and even smoking weed for the first time in nearly a decade (I took two hits and spent the rest of the evening sinking into the couch painfully aware of how bad I am at breathing and worrying that I might stop at any given moment). I fell in love with yoga and felt myself loosening up parts of my body and my mind that had been twisted into a series of knots for god only knows how long. I spent days reading in the sun, baking bread like everyone else in the world, and learning to make my own pies. Things were going really well, and I was even ahead in school, now on track to graduate in August—when things started getting heated.

I’m not going to go on a rant about race, although I very much could, but I will say this—the fact that we are still in a race war in this country in the year 2020 (and even now, a few days into 2021) makes me so sick to my stomach I don’t know what to do. Every injustice that passes by us, overshadowed by the next untimely death or wrongdoing makes me angry in ways that I cannot even fathom putting into words. It burns the color red that is so hot and so vibrant that I can see it soaking through my eyelids even when I squeeze them shut. This country lost a lot of love from me this year, and even more respect. There are not only things we can do better—there are things we must change. And honestly, most days, I don’t think most of the country is ready to not only admit that but to also work for. And that not only sickens me, but depresses the living hell out of me. I feel so stunted all of the time when I picture a world so at peace with its own injustice. It’s just so unfair.

I watched as the world was (rightfully, although woefully) destroyed around me. My neighborhood turned into a desolate, looted shadow of itself—one where Lauren and I could sit on our back patio safely until dusk, when the crime and gunfire became so rabid that on occasions, we sat in the living room in total darkness, listening only to the radio, afraid to let anybody at street level see that we were, indeed, at home. The opportunists that took advantage of the message of this movement made me numb to such a large demographic of the population, and I found myself crying myself to sleep enough times that I thought it might be time to leave the warzone that had become Chicago for a little while as escape down to Florida. So, we packed our bags and left. It is not lost on me that so many did not have this option, and for so many minorities, just simply existing during this time was enough to cause assault. I know I am fortunate—I carry it like lead in my pockets every day.

While in Florida, the first retailers began to reopen and I found myself waiting in an hour-long line to buy soaps and hand sanitizers, and to get a glimpse of what this “new normal” might look like when things started picking back up again. Like many, it was jarring to see empty tables, capacity limits on items, cashiers behind plexiglass sheets shouting to be heard over both the physical barrier and the cloth one strung across their faces.

By the time T & I arrived home, Lauren was already making plans to reopen her store “safely” and I felt sorry for her. How could anything be safe when nothing had changed? Why were companies acting as if business could go on like before—even though nothing had gotten better?

My final months of my MFA were just ahead of me, and I had one month remaining free from work to finish my first full-length novel, and I all I really remember is stress stress stress.

And then Andrew, being Andrew, offered a glimmer of hope, in the form of a drive-in concert celebrating fifteen years of Everything in Transit in southern California, a mere matter of hours from where Nicole had been working. It took a matter of two or maybe three text messages to confirm that we would be attending, and once the ticket was purchased I practically packed my bags and headed off to visit her and try and make light of my heart.

As suspected, the trip was magical. Being around Nicole, per usual, was magical. My heart felt so fully aligned seeing a little piece of her story and getting to experience her way of life once more—drunken hot springs and all their glory. There truly are few things in my life I love more than sitting in the passenger’s seat as Nicole drives us all over the country, and experiencing it again felt so right and so perfect that I honestly thought it was one of the happiest experiences of my life. Because I had requested so, she drove me all the way to Venice Beach the day of the concert so we could see where the infamous album cover was taken. We ate cbd gummies and listened to jack’s and ate in-n-out burger like our lives depended on it. When the concert began, it was eerie, yet hopeful to see all the new protocols of something that had become so familiar to me in my former life. Drinks were ordered through an app and delivered, as was merch, and clapping was replaced by the exuberant honking of car horns. We streamed the sound through the radio and laid the in the back of Nicole’s converted SUV as we cried and sang along to the songs that made everything, even just for one night, feel like it was all going to be okay again. We ended the evening marking ourselves with our first stick and poke tattoos—hers a sun to my moon, positioned to kiss one another when we stand next to each other on our preferred selfie side (lol). I left worried about how long it might be before I could feel her warm embrace again, the embrace of one of the truest friends I’ll ever know, but also recognizing that we were lucky to have had such an experience at all during such an insane year and feeling eternally grateful for its memory.

The last weeks of what I referred to as my Rumspringa were ahead of me, and one sunny afternoon I wrote the final pages of my novel. In a mad rush to edit, revise and complete my portfolio for official review, I never really sat with myself and what I had accomplished or congratulated myself; I wrote a book in seven months’ time, and even though I am unhappy with it (more on that later) there’s no denying that I actually did it. I did it, and nobody can ever take that away from me; it’s an accomplishment I will forever have, and it’s all my own. And I need to remind myself of that. I need to let myself feel proud.

I was back to work in September and taking a huge pay cut, though working the same hours. It was stressful, but once I found out my portfolio had been accepted and I, indeed, would be receiving my MFA I felt a bit at peace for a while. I had let my hair grow long all summer, and all but stopped wearing make-up (mascara makes me feel entirely dolled up now). I felt in an odd way free—almost bare.

The fall came and went fairly quickly—the weekends alone at home and grocery-store-only outings feeling more and more like normalcy. It had been such a tough, trying year, that it suddenly felt nice to just stand still for a bit. So, I did.

In a brief amount of time, I watched (safely) as friends got married, got sick, got older and fell in love. I watched, with great anxiety, as our country voted in the most important election of our lives so far and took the deepest breath I’d ever taken as I watched that man face defeat—although he’s yet to swallow it. I watched as ex-lovers had babies, got engaged and never really stopped to think twice about any of it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the safety (and not in a lame, “safety-net” sort of way) of having T in my life has turned me into someone who not only craves quiet time at home, but really also sort of fell right damn into it very easily, though unexpectedly. I’ve heard the saying so many times before, but you really don’t realize everything is different once you find the right fit because that place feels like it’s always been home. I am grateful to not only have that now and moving forward, but most certainly throughout the trying, unstable times of 2020. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without it.

The holidays always creep up on me, and after being dealt a shitty hand from work (don’t even get me started, I’m still fuming) they came that much quicker. T & I were lucky enough to spend the holidays back home in the swamp, visiting my parents and his Dad. The time went by fast but was relaxing, fun, and reenergizing. We spent New Year’s Eve playing giant Jenga and yard Yahtzee with my parents in the cool, tropical winter of Florida. It was nice. We got tired right around 11, so we laid in bed until midnight talking, staying awake just long enough to share our new year’s kiss. It felt right—a proper send off to such a strange and unusual year. I was exctly where I needed to be—wrapped up in a blanket of T’s embrace, comfy in a bed in my childhood bedroom.

So now, here it is: 2021—the supposed upgrade to 2020, or so everybody secretly hopes. So now, as I sit here, drinking a warm, soy-chai latte (homemade!) I find myself having great difficulty setting an intention for the days ahead of me. I feel so beaten and bruised and physically fatigued for no reason but the experiences of 2020 and the courses they ran all over my life. I’m feeling reflective of having finished yet another year of my life (and my Saturn return! Halleluj!) and finding it hard to be anything but fatigued. I guess it’s from the year that’s just finished—more so than any other year it physically pained me at times to be alive at times. I’m missing so many of my friends who I haven’t been able to see for extended months at a time now. I am craving a sense of normalcy, of safety, so that I can feel better about making plans, but as for right now I just don’t have it. I am quietly trying to make subtle changes within myself and how I react to the world around me, but just like the start of this new year, that process is a slow one.

One of my resolutions (though I’m growing to hate that word more and more with each passing year) is to get back to writing. I had a good, albeit stressful, thing going while still in school, and after finishing my novel and receiving feedback, I couldn’t shake the feeling of absolute failure. It’s still there—it’s really hard to try and celebrate an accomplishment when you don’t feel like your work was good enough to warrant anything at all—especially not a fine arts degree. I never said I was a fiction writer—I just wanted to get better at writing fiction—so I need to remember that and allow myself to veer away from that for a while, to work on something new. Something I’ve been saying I’m not ready to write for many years now, something that when I now say that is just a plain old lie: My memoir. I’m ready to close the chapter in my life where I am a flight attendant, so the timing feels more than perfect.

I learned so much about what I want to do within my career and what sort of boundaries I don’t want to place on myself—and I’m trying, I really am. T gifted me with my own pottery wheel for Christmas and we are going to set it up this weekend and I am so excited to get my hands muddy and start creating. Until this year, I didn’t realize how much I needed a creative outlet other than writing—I had been depending on it for too long, my little cup felt bone dry. So, I’m excited to see where this new hobby takes me and how it influences my ability to return to the blank page—quite literally.

I know this year will not be the quick fix that so many are hopeful for—I think quite the opposite, actually. But here are some things I know for sure will happen: I will move out of my apartment and in with T. We will then, immediately get a dog and a new apartment. This, alone, feels like enough to fill the pages of the blank year ahead of us. I will go long periods of time without seeing my loved ones, and without traveling (bleak as this lifestyle may be). I will write, even when it’s hard to. I will publish something—I’m at work submitting pieces as we speak, and though the process is slow, I can tell this is my opportunity—I am ready t fight for it. I will turn 32, and the numerology of my life will seem more aligned. I will spend my birthday at home, alone, because of course Moulin Rouge has now been cancelled (I’m fine with it). I will learn more about myself the more I use my hands to create, to plant, to sculpt, to mold. I will love with fervor. I will smile more, because it’s actually healthier for you, even though my black heart hates to admit it. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to attend a live concert, though I realize this might be wishful thinking at this point. I will do mushrooms and giggle with the colors. I will cry. I will hurt and I will cause harm. But through it all, I will persevere. Because if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that I am capable of regenerating into new versions of myself that I didn’t even have the time to dream up. I can adapt to whatever is thrown at me, though it will often times feel impossible. I can, and will, create. I can be reborn (as many times as I’d like to, too).

So, thanks, 2020, for teaching me more about myself than any other period of five years has ever taught me. I definitely feel like I’ve been through the ringer a couple of times, yet I find myself still standing day after day. It must be the way a domino feels, standing up, time after time, knowing that something right in front of you is about to knock you down. But instead of thinking about what I’m bringing down with me, I’m thinking of the entire collective as a whole—we are all experiencing this together. And maybe, just maybe, on the other side, there’s a kid with a smile waiting to do it all over again. And that’s perhaps where the beauty lays: we have to tear everything down in order to do better, be better, make change. Nobody likes to catch fire, but everyone loves rising from the ashes. We’ll all get to where we’re headed, one way or another. And eventually, I hope, we’ll see that the other side is better than we could have ever dreamt of.

I hope that 2021 is a bridge that brings us from destruction to creation. I hope the journey is long, so we all appreciate the outcome.

I love you all and wish you warmth and wellness into this year and beyond.

Happy new year—honor the circumstances you have around you and let them help you grow.

#me #personal

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shelvedsaints · 3 years

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ABOUT TARYN || A crimson headache, an aching blush━ you’ll surrender to the touch and you’ll know.

CHARACTER BASICS

NAME: Taryn Aldous Lynch

AGE: Twenty-Six

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis-female, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Sophie Cookson

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′8″

DATE OF BIRTH: December 28th

ZODIAC SIGN: Aries

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor’s in Finance & Art with a Minor in Accounting, Business, and Marketing

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: N/A

OCCUPATION: Tattoo Artist and Owner of Salt & Ink, Drug Dealer

HOMETOWN: Key West, FL

NEIGHBORHOOD: Newtown

CHARACTER HISTORY [TW: DRUGS]

The Lynch Family has been in the pharmaceutical business for generations but it wasn’t until Kristoff Lynch took charge that the business became less than legitimate. BetterCorp of Salem, Maine was the front to a business dealing drugs illegally, and with major success.

This lead to a life of ease for Taryn and her sister, Taylor. The girls attended private school until their graduation, and had even been accepted to other prestigious colleges for their postsecondary education.

Their father was very concerned about having a legacy, and therefore after his first born son from a previous marriage being less than adequate and not entirely stable, he pressured his wife into having more children. However, he knew that the wait between having another child came from the trauma of their first son’s upbringing and that she felt inadequate as a mother.

He took care of the twins their first two years of life, stressing the importance of balance, math, and science from a young age. He was always very reserved, but did take the twins surfing quite often even if he had to yell at them to stop complaining about the cold. He wanted his children resilient and ruthless, and he would mold them as such.

If you ever asked Taryn to draw her mother, a glass of wine and golden bangles would surely be included. Her mother didn’t drink much, but she always used hid behind a glass of wine to ease herself even though she sipped on it for hours. She was beautiful and cunning, a terrible cook but full of effort, and just as much of a snake in her husband’s ears as she collected secrets from others at parties as she was a trophy on his side.

However, she wasn’t a great mother. She was pressured by her husband to have another child for his legacy, and after the twins were born, she developed postpartum depression. She did not want to hold them, touch them, barely even feed them herself. The twins, in fact, spent more time with their father their first two years of life. Taylor needed her mother and easily won her favor while Taryn never truly developed a relationship with her as she was independent from a young age. It was easy to see that Taylor was her favorite.

Taylor, in particular, had been more inclined to join their father’s business than Taryn. But alas, Taryn and her sister have always been inseparable and she has always been her sister’s keeper. Taylor was always the more outspoken of the twins, but it was her mouth that got her into just as much trouble as it did success. She had just as many enemies as she has had friends. Taryn spent most of her life not in her shadow, but BEING it in order to protect her from not only others, but from herself. Even if enemies came with the territory of dealing drugs, Taylor was testing her limits since the day she was born.

The girls were cut off from their parents fortune and told that they had to earn their way back into the will. When the girls attended a private college, the only thing that would be paid for them, the struggled slightly to acclimate to being in charge of their own fortunes. Taryn transitioned better than Taylor. Taylor immediately turned to selling drugs to get more money to satisfy her heavy spending habits. Taryn followed suit to keep an eye on her and they found that they were quite good at it. The girls then agreed to drop out to attend a local college and used the leftover money from their expensive tuitions to buy a building where they would launder the money.

They returned to their hometown, not far from their former school so they kept their clientele, and worked directly for their father and BetterCorp.

Taylor at first began dealing marijuana and shrooms in an attempt to show her father she knew the business well and was careful, and eventually upgraded to higher drugs. At first she threatened to go on her own, but his father eventually gave in.

Taryn, on the other hand, wasn’t too keen on the idea but involved herself solely to keep an eye on her sister. While Taylor was eager and excited to make enemies just as much as friends, Taron was reserved and skeptical of everyone. Taryn eventually combed through her sister’s methods to perfect it and gain their father’s trust together.

Like many identical twins, the Lynch girls had more differences than similarities. Taylor’s first impression was usually that she was a force to be reckoned with, fully aware of her influence and the taste it left in someone’s mouth. She thrived in a social setting and looked for friends with the same intention she did as looking for enemies. Taryn, on the other hand, was always reserved and lived as her shadow in order to protect her from her own antics and their consequences. However, Taryn never really minded. He had his own troubles that Taylor had to take into his own hands to make up for it. If the twins were trouble on their own, they had a whole different breed of power together. From their own hybrid of sign language to similar traumas, they were a force of nature.

PRESENT DAY [TW: DRUGS, CAR ACCIDENT]

Two years ago, business took a south turn. In an attack against competitors, a few dealers were killed. The crime rolled over into a major case. It was revealed that it was done in a retaliation against the movement of the company into the hands of the twins. In order to ease the strife, and avoid further scandal, Kristoff sent the girls down the coast but after Taryn suspected more strife, she made a more permanent move down the coast.

In the Keys, she bought the local tattoo shop on Duval Street and cleaned up its reputation. She put her few years of tattoo apprenticeship, her hobby, into use and eventually the store became a front for the drug dealer she failed to turn away from. She had kept a secret since she knew better than to get into the very business that had driven not only a wedge between the life they knew, but had gotten them into trouble. It didn’t last long though, even more so when it came to secrets against her sister, and eventually the Lynch twins were reunited.

While Taryn seems much quieter than her sister, she reserves her outbursts for different forms of aggravation. Most girls tend to internalize it, but she unleashes it in illegal underground fighting that leaves her tainted in black and blue more often than not, but also winnings that add to more finances she has to cover up. It is suspected that he was never the same after their brother’s girlfriend perrished in a car accident that seemed rigged by the enemies of BetterCorp, a hit meant to take out the next generation of the heads of the company. It was a hit that would have been more useful against the twins, and Taryn holds some guilt because of it. The crash took his girlfriend’s life, and scarred Taryn in the explosion as she had sent him off. She has some of the scars tattooed over but it is the primary detail that sets the girls apart from the tattoos.

HEAD CANONS

In elementary school, Taylor was diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder (IED) which is a behavioral disorder. It took some time for Taryn to be diagnosed with it as it presented itself differently in both girls. While Taylor was constantly snapping and raising her voice as well as getting into physical altercations with his own friends, Taron seemed to solely take it out on his brother and it was easily written off as retaliation for many years.

They dabbled in drug dealing in high school and used their different positions in their social settings to do it. They dealt schedule III drugs as well as coke. Taryn had the private school social scene, while Taylor reigned the public school setting.

As for their disorder, the girls loved each other very much but they were each other’s weakness. One small comment set the other off, one on the floor in a choke hold and the other slamming them against the nearest piece of furniture. For Taryn in particular, she bottled up her feelings and her outbursts resulted in episodes so extreme that it became Taylor’s job to hold her sister back. Taron would go into full on fits and Taylor had taken responsibility of protecting her even from herself. Eventually the violence that satisfied this rage was fed into by illegal fighting.

Taylor’s vices, though, took a different form. When they began dealing, she started digging into their own supply. Taryn had been the one to revive her from an accidental overdose.

Due to another altercation in their youth, Taryn lost most of the hearing in her left ear. This was Taylor’s fault as in one fight she punched Taryn’s ear hard enough to shatter the small bones. Taron got her back, though, and ended up breaking Taylor’s wrist to the point that she needed surgery for the scaphoid fracture.

The older Lynch brother was never fit for BetterCorp and therefore the twins, youngest and girls, were viewed as the heirs but treated as henchmen for the company first and foremost. However, it didn’t mean that he was forgotten by the girls. They each take care of him and keep an eye on him and his erratic schedule, and always have even when they were encouraged to keep him at arm’s length. There is something off, but with their own poor self management skills, they have yet to identify what.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Clients (Salt & Ink and Dealing)

Co-workers

Sparring partners

Those who bet on her in underground fighting

#sevenmiles.intro #taryn.intro #sevenmiles.inro

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daydream-hobii · 5 years

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Hybrid Heart Attack | Chapter 1

Genre: Poly!AU; Hybrid!AU; Fluff; Angst

Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Human!Seokjin x Human!Reader; Eventual relationship with Snow Leopard!Yoongi, Red Panda!Hoseok, Koala!Namjoon, Calico Cat!Jimin, Husky!Taehyung, Doberman!Jungkook

Summary: Y/n finds her current fiance during college, his name is Seokjin. They fell in love and dated for three years before he proposed. Now, Seokjin is a lawyer for hybrids, and Y/n, well, she has the perfect stay at home job. When Seokjin invites her to move in, she wasn’t expecting that he has six hybrids. She doesn’t know why a hybrid lawyer wouldn’t have hybrids, she just didn’t think about it…. Y/n is petrified of hybrids, something happened to her when she was little…. Guess she’ll have to adapt… or leave.

Warning: Mentions of Animal Attacks, Abuse (Physical & Mental), Depression, Anxiety; Possible PTSD mentions; Suggestions of Smut; Read with caution. <3

Word Count: 1,353

// Previous // Next //

Author’s Note: I AM STILL SO VERY EXCITED ABOUT THIS!! I am back from Vacation and should have much more time. I hope you all enjoy it!! ^_^

Three years from our first meeting, we’re happily engaged. We both graduated and Seokjin was working at the number one hybrid law firm in the city. I had a quaint, stay-at-home job that just required a computer and a telephone, maybe even an office. It was perfect. The only problem….

Seokjin really loves hybrids. Any time we’re walking around at a park, he’ll stop and say hello to the hybrids, scratching behind their ears. I keep my distance, not making eye contact and trying not to show Seokjin my fears. I was worried he��d leave me if he knew I wasn’t a fan of them…. What if he wanted to adopt hybrids with me…?

Now, being engaged, it was the day I moved into his house. Looking at it, it was quite large, a farmhouse. He had quite a bit of land with a forest bordering the back. The house itself was far back off the road, the driveway up to it lined with more trees for privacy.

The giant moving truck with my things was sat in the driveway. Seokjin came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I placed my hands on top of his arms, smiling at the beautiful white house.

“It’s so gorgeous,” I whispered.

“It’s crazy that you hadn’t come before,” Seokjin said, chuckling. I shrugged, smiling again.

“My apartment was closer than your home. If you remember, you’re not very patient,” I said, making him groan and hide his face in my shoulder. After a while in the dorms, I found a cute apartment close to campus, one that I could have on my own. Seokjin became a regular guest there.

“I hate when you mention that,” Seokjin said, placing his chin on your shoulder. “How can I be patient when it comes to you? You’re just so delicious.” He smirked, making me roll my eyes.

“Alright, you nasty,” I said, shoving him off and smirking. “Let’s get this stuff inside.”

“Wait!” Seokjin exclaimed, making me raise an eyebrow. “I want you to meet some people first.” I stared in confusion as he grabbed my hand, dragging me inside. His family wasn’t here, were they? I know I haven’t met all of his family, but I had no clue why they’d pick such a busy day…? The inside of the house was stunning, and so large. Sat in the living room, however, were six people, six boys… all with animal ears.

My vision blurred as I gasped slightly, stepping back. Memories flooded through my head from when I was ten. The six hybrids who attacked me, they punched, kicked, scratched and bit. The pain and fear came back to me, the six new hybrids moving their heads to the side. I heard a couple whine in concern. Seokjin’s face was in front of me. I was having a panic attack.

I ran out the front door, heaving in the fresh air with my hands on my knees. Seokjin followed closely, shutting the door. He looked worried, but I held my hands up. I could get rid of it myself, I didn’t need him touching me, it would make it worse.

Once I had calmed down, tears streaming down my face, I looked at Seokjin with fear, no longer from the hybrids, but from him…. How did I not know he would have hybrids? How could I have been so naive? So stupid?

“Jagiya, what happened?” Seokjin asked, taking a step forward. I grabbed his hands, frowning and letting out a shaky sigh.

“I didn’t know you had hybrids,” I whispered, blinking away tears. “I don’t know why, it just never came up and I just thought maybe not!” I was rambling now.

“Y/n, please talk to me,” Seokjin whispered, placing his hands on my arms, keeping my eyes to his. I let out another long, shaky sigh.

“When I was ten, a pack of six hybrids attacked me…. They used their human and animal instincts: kicking, punching… scratching and biting…. I was in the hospital for a long time, I still have some scars from it…” I whispered, fear engulfing me.

“Jagiya,” He whispered. “I’m the stupid one here…. How did I not notice? You not petting any hybrids or keeping your distance…. I didn’t even notice your scars….” He looked disappointed in himself….

“The lights were always off,” I said, smiling softly. “I don’t hate them! I wouldn’t wish them dead or harmed or anything…. I’m just terrified…. I’m so scared….”

Seokjin stood there for a moment, thinking to himself. Another wave of fear rolled through me. What if this changes how he views me? What if he doesn’t want to get married anymore? God, I’m such an idiot, why didn’t I think about him having hybrids? It’s the logical thing to think for his career! I steadied my breathing before coming to terms with myself.

“I’d never ask you to choose between them or me,” I said, making him look up in surprise. “I know that a lot of hybrids are in bad situations, and you’re the best person they’ll ever have. I’d want you to choose them.”

“What if I want to choose both of you?” He questioned, coming back and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Seokjin,” I started, but he stopped me.

“Wait here,” He said, running back inside the house. When he returned, there was a tall man following him. He had light gray, bluish ears that were rounded and fluffy. He didn’t have a visible tail, so it must’ve been a stub. I held up my hands, panic rolling through my veins as more tears flew down my cheeks.

“No no no, it’s okay,” Seokjin said, gently. He got between me and the hybrid, holding my hands gently. “I promise, nothing will happen to you…. This is Namjoon, he’s a koala hybrid. He’s the least intimidating out of the group.”

My breathing was heavy and I was shaking, but I peeked over Seokjin’s shoulder at the large hybrid. He seemed a bit shy, looking at the ground and frowning. He kept a good distance from me, and it actually made me feel a bit more calm. If I wanted to stay with Seokjin, I had to at least try, no matter how terrified I was….

I gulped, holding my hands together to stop them from shaking as I stepped around Seokjin, standing next to him. He put his hand on my lower back to relax me. It worked. Namjoon looked surprised as he watched me. He held out his hand, making me wide eyed and shake my head slightly.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I-I,” I stuttered, still trembling, but he shook his head, taking his hand away.

“I get it. Jin told me you were attacked by some hybrids when you were younger,” He said, softly. He had such a smooth voice, it was relaxing. “I’m sorry you experienced that. You seem like such a nice person…. Seokjin has told us a lot about you….”

“Things happen,” I whispered, trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working.

“When I was younger, I was put into a really abusive household,” Namjoon explained, making me look him in the eye. “There were the parents and a couple kids. They were very aggressive towards me, beat me. My bed was a cage in their living room….”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, curiously. It sounded ruder than I wanted, but Namjoon didn’t look offended, just thoughtful. My shaking hands were becoming smoother, calmer.

“I understand your fear,” He said, keeping my eyes. “I was so scared of humans…. No one at the shelter could come near me without me screaming. Seokjin… he just saw me once and adopted me. No matter how scared I was… he kept trying.”

“He can be pretty stubborn,” I whispered, showing a small smile. Namjoon chuckled, nodding in agreement.

“He can be,” Namjoon said. “The point is… if he could help me, along with the other five in there, adapt from the horrible situations we’ve all been through… he can help you too….”

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0kayblue · 5 years

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A Peace Offering

Summary: You’ve graduated from Hawkins High and summer has officially begun, bringing new beginnings with it. You’re focused on turning over a new leaf and becoming an actual adult, putting your Queen of Hawkins High title behind you.

So far it’s turned out in your favor. You’ve got a job, your parents almost off your back about college, and a best friend who works for the ice cream shop up stairs.

Adulthood is proving itself to be pretty fruitful, but one day when you go to visit your best friend, Robin, you cross paths with the former King of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. You and Steve were most definitely not strangers but you wished you were as memories flood both yours and Steve’s minds

Word count: 10k

Notes: Anything written in italics is a memory. It is either a memory from you, Robin, or Steve. I understand how that can be pretty straight forward as you read, but the groundwork for this piece is the memories.

Character Relations: Robin x reader (best friend), Steve x reader (romantic interest), Billy x reader (close acquaintance)

A/N: Hi! This isn’t the first imagine I’ve ever written, but it is the first Stranger Things centered one. It’s also one of the first imagines I’ve ever even posted. I really enjoyed writing this and I also feel a little accomplished, lol. There might be a part two? I haven’t decided if I really want to dive deeply into this or not yet. Anyway, if you read thank you so much! Critiques and comments are welcomed with open arms!

WARNINGS: Cursing, lots of cursing. Fluff? Angst? A mix of emotions.

……………

As you flashed an obviously fake smile at the dusty blonde man who “complimented” you on your ruby red lipstick, you felt the urge to jump across the table and strangle him.

“Well, I thank you. It’s a new shade I’ve decided to try out. Now, is that all I can grab for ya?” You said with a tone too sweet to indicate how venomous it actually was. The fake twang seemed to echo in your head and you wondered how anyone with a natural accent could handle the sound of their own voice.

“Ah, no thank you dear. I’m afraid that’ll be it.” He smirked and you simply nodded as you turned and walked up to the diner window. Your cheery facade fading as you glared at the cook behind the open order window.

Sal, the cook, chuckled as he analyzed how upset you were starting to get. You weren’t a stranger to the irritation you felt every time you stepped foot in this damn diner.

You clipped the order onto one of clothespins and let out a deep sigh as you rested your head on the cool smooth steel counter. Sal just smiled as he threw a hamburger patty on the grill. You looked up at him and he just continued to chuckle.

“Y’know I think you should drop that fake twang, you might be less miserable.” Sal was a bigger built man, he reminded you of your father, just bald.

“I might be less miserable if I didn’t have to wear scratchy outdated themed clothes that do nothing but irritate the irritable.” You huffed out laying your head flat on the counter.

“Mhm.” He just groaned out. “Only way you are getting rid of that poodle skirt is if you quit.” You groaned in defeat knowing quitting was not an option.

“Then it’s empty pockets.” You said as you stood up straight, the snickering of table five being overheard. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

“I’m serious, kid. I don’t know why you are here. You should be enjoying your summer and going to college in the fall. You’re smart enough for it.” You rolled your eyes.

College seemed to be the only thing that people wanted out of you. A nice college education and maybe you could make something out of yourself. You couldn’t help but scoff and give Sal a look of distaste.

“I’ve been over this with you. And my parents. And my grandparents. And basically everyone. I don’t want to go, at least not yet. I want the experience of working first.” This wasn’t an exact lie per say, it was more of a beefed up truth. You didn’t want to go back into the school system mainly because it just made you feel like shit, and you believed knowing all sides is better than just one. So an honest job was not only a way to get experience and out of college pressure, but to also to hold onto to this fleeting feeling of youth.

“Besides, this is also to fund potential college endeavors.” You smiled as he placed two plated burgers on the counter in front of you.

“Yeah, right. You better take this to table five so you can take your break.” You rolled your eyes as you picked up the plates and walked over to table five with a painful fake smile.

“One double cheeseburger with fries and a single hamburger with extra ketchup and fries.” You sat the plates in front of the correct recipients of their order. “Is there anything else I can get ya? Refills, maybe a milkshake?”

“A strawberry milkshake, but only if we can share, doll face.” You looked at the black haired man as the blonde across from him stifled a laugh. You bit your inner lip taking a deep breath and tried not to break your smile.

“So you won’t be needing anything else. Wonderful.” You reached into your apron pocket and pulled out your order book. You ripped out their order and lightly slammed it on there table. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to check you out due to the fact that my break is about to start, so just take your receipt up to the register and Sal will check ya out.”

The black haired man sent a glare but quickly recomposed himself with a smirk. “No problem, doll. A milkshake tomorrow, then?” You unwillingly bit your tongue and just smiled.

“We’ll see.” You said and turned. You tried to not stomp as you walked back and pushed open the kitchen door, but it didn’t work. You could hear them laughing as you yanked your punch card off the wall.

“Don’t let them get ya.” Sal said as you went ahead and punched your time card into the machine signaling you were officially off the clock. You yanked off your apron and threw it on the clean counter by the freezer.

“Yeah, uh huh, I’m headed to Scoops. You want me to bring you back anything?” You said as you took your hair out of that headache inducing high ponytail. As you fluffed your hair out you took a deep breath and exhaled, clearly exhausted from working the morning and afternoon shifts.

“No thank you. Watching my figure.” You chuckled as you walked past him patting him on the back.

“Suit yourself.” You said as you walked out into the nearly dead mall. You figured the heat index was keeping everyone either inside or at the pool, but you honestly didn’t expect the mall to look this empty. It was weird to only have to walk past people and not forcefully push your way past.

Starcourt was Hawkins newest addition and it’s busiest. Which was sort of sad as you saw local businesses close one by one. You overheard of a scheduled protest to take place on the lawn of City Hall, but other than that, nothing was really being done to help savage Hawkin’s local flare. You weren't doing much to help it either, I mean hell, you worked for Starcourt. There wasn’t anything you could really do, you tried to get a job down main street, but alas no one would hire you. Mainly because they couldn’t afford to pay you for any work you might actually stumble upon.

So, naturally, you ended up working in Prime Time 50s Diner on the first floor right across from Hot Dog On A Stick. Which was just as depressing as it sounded. Hot Dog On A Stick was busier than the diner nine times out of ten and you legitimately thought about moving across the way just for something more to do.

As you stepped on the escalator you spotted the bright flashing bulbs of the big Scoops Ahoy sign. You enjoyed ice cream and even though you had ice cream at your job you couldn’t resist the getaway from the smell of greasy cheeseburgers and the constant repeat of the same old songs. You walked your way into Scoops Ahoy glancing at the few people eating ice cream inside. No employee in sight as you approached the front counter. You smirked and began to ring the front bell in front of the register rather obnoxiously. You loved this stupid little bell it was a great way to get under Robin’s skin. You stopped ringing the bell and just stood there for a split second and rang it one more time. You snickered and headed over to look at the ice cream flavors they had today. Contemplating on trying something new or not, you wouldn’t, but it was always nice to look.

Your ears perked up as you heard shuffling to the door, a thud, and then a sliding window open.

“Ahoy!” Robin said with a tone of annoyance in her voice. Her face sarcastically fell realizing it was just you and you smiled. A slight smirk found her face when you giggled at her.

“Ahoy there!” You said as you lazily gave her a two finger salute. You both let out a laugh and she walked around and met you on the other side of the counter.

“What are you up to?” She asked and you just shrugged.

“Same old, same old.” You smirked as you saw Robin grab your favorite flavor. “You know I could’ve changed my mind, I could’ve wanted the U.S.S. Butterscotch.”

“As if.” Robin said as she rolled her eyes. You always knew of Robin, you, of course, went to high school together and knew each other through passing. But you never were friends. You simply just knew of each other and that was that, until one day during your lunch break you guys started talking.

The food court was packed and almost every seat was filled, except for two right across from each other. You sat on one side and Robin sat across from you on the other side. You started friendly conversation not expecting much of anything to come from it.

“So, you work at the 50s place?” She asked trying to keep her gaze towards you limited. You wondered what she actually thought of you. You hoped that you never did anything to offend or hurt her in high school because she was proving to be pretty cool and not just the band geek you originally thought.

“Yeah.” You said with a friendly smile, wondering how much she remembered of you from high school.

You were the Queen of Hawkins and the ruthless truth rang down the halls as you called people out on their bullshit. If they started something you would sure as hell would end it. Not in any physically violent way, but words do cut like knives.

You understood that, but you couldn’t stop yourself once the thought entered your brain. People liked seeing you be a bitch, so you were a bitch. For six hours a day five days a week, you were Queen of Hawkins High, the Bitch of Indy, not (Y/N).

“You should stop by, it’ll be on me.” You smiled honestly wanting to give Robin a chance. You were tired of being lonely and pretending. You wanted a friend, an actual friend, something you haven’t had in a long time. It was time to be an adult.

Robin’s head shot up as her eyes meet with yours. There was some sort of gleam in her eyes, like she was finally able to hang out with the popular girl. Your eyes met hers with a shared excitement.

Now, this was something new and you planned to just let the walls you built crumble a bit and you were genuinely excited. High school was over and you could be who you wanted to be, who you should have been.

“Maybe tomorrow, lunch?” You questioned and she nodded. You stood up and apologized due to the fact your break was over. “Great. I have to get going. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.” Robin said with a smirk as she returned to her Chinese food.

The next day she met you for lunch and you gave being open a chance. You didn’t expect Robin to stay after that, but she did. She put up with your stubbornness and your tendencies to shut down, and actually stuck around and helped you out of that hole you were stuck in for so long.

You told each other everything and you both knew everything about each other. Even Robin’s biggest secret which was actually pretty funny because you thought she was dying when she very mysteriously “had something she needed to tell you before your friendship could continue”.

“Seriously? That’s it?” You questioned.

“Yeah.” She said shakily and she was so nervous. “I’m a lesbian and I understand if that’s a problem and you don’t want to be friends-.”

“Robin.” You cut her off abruptly. “I thought you were dying. Dying. You being gay doesn’t matter to me. As long as you are happy I will always support you. You are my best friend and I have no idea where I’d be without you.” You pulled her into a hug, holding back tears. Robin let a few slip, but would never admit it. As you parted you put your hands on her shoulders.

“Movie night?” You asked smiling.

“Movie night.” She affirmed.

“What are you up to tonight?” You asked her.

“Not much of anything. Movie night?” She asked as she handed you ice cream and as you took it you nodded. You shoved money into the tip jar knowing that she wouldn’t take it. She rolled her eyes and you heard another thud from the back. You raised an eyebrow and tried to glance around her. She quickly fidgeted so you couldn’t take a peak, not that you’d be able to see into the break room that was down the hall.

“What is going on back there? Did they finally hire some help?”

“Just some shelf assembly.” Robin said and you raised an eyebrow quizzically. What type of shelf was being put together? What idiot was assembling it? “But, yeah they finally hired help. What movies are you thinking of for tonight? I was thinking maybe a classic or something along those lines.” She tried to gently ease the conversation away from the noise that came from the back. You just shrugged.

“Anything works tonight.” You said taking a lick from the ice cream cone as you studied Robin. She’s hiding something and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Robin knew something you didn’t. “Who is your new co-worker? It isn’t Tommy is it?” You stifled a laugh picturing Tommy in the sailor uniform. You leaned against the counter continuing to eat your ice cream.

“Ah ha, no. So, about this movie how do you feel about Dargonslayer, I heard-.”

“So you are avoiding the co-worker conversation.” You cut her off and grinned. “Do I know them? Is it Tammy? C’mon just tell me-.” You went to finish but was cut off by the loudest thud thus far.

All conversation stopped in Scoops Ahoy as you and Robin made desperate eye contact before you both ran into the back. As you both took a sharp turn into the break room your eyes locked with the complete and utter idiot who was laying underneath the poorly constructed steel shelf.

“Harrington?” You spat, your actions not correlating with your wicked tone as you went to pull the shelf back onto its four legs.

“(Y/L/N)?” He questioned his eyes not leaving you as he pushed the shelf off of him as you pulled it up. The shelf wasn’t completed therefore it wasn’t that heavy but it was in fact tall. When you had it back and up straight you crossed your arms as Robin gave Steve a helping hand up.

You crossed your arms and glared at him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as he dusted himself off. Robin chewed the inside of her cheek knowing it was only a matter of time before you and Steve crossed paths.

“Why are you failing to assemble a simple shelf?” You questioned and he mocked you. You could cut the tension in the room it was so thick.

“Ha, well I think it’s time for you to scurry out of here. Besides you aren’t supposed to back here anyways..” Robin said with a clap trying to relive some of that bottled up tension, being no stranger to the rocky relationship you and Steve had.

“Yeah, Scoops Ahoy employees only.” Steve said as he went back to the shelf and its instructions. Steve wanted to continue to look at you, but knew it was best to turn away.

“Right.” You said not wanting to hang around anyway.

“Right.” He said as he picked up a screw driver.

“I’ll see you tonight, Robin. 7 as usual.” You said as you left. You took a lick of your ice cream cone and shuttered. It no longer tasted as sweet nor as refreshing as it usually did. You couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington was the newest Scoops Ahoy employee. Throwing the ice cream in the trash you left Scoops Ahoy with mixed emotions.

Robin went to call after you but decided to let it go. She glared at Steve and Steve just looked back at her somewhat confused.

“What did I do? Are you guys friends?” Steve asked as he put the last screw into the shelf to make it sturdy. He was clearly disgruntled, something Robin hasn’t really seen on Steve. He was just fine not too long ago, going on about how Dustin was to be coming back from camp soon.

“What is with you two? You guys have been bickering back and forth, since, well the whole King and Queen thing started.” Robin said as she began to help Steve by putting boxes of plastic utensils on the newly constructed shelf. You never told Robin the real reason you and Steve were at each other's throat, she asked one time, but didn’t get anywhere.

“Some people just don’t get along.” Steve grunted, a hint of sadness lingering. It was out of character, well as far as Robin was concerned, to see Steve get so upset so fast. Not to mention stay upset about something.

“Something has to have happened. I believe you guys were fairly close in middle school.” Robin said and Steve just sighed.

“Harrington!” You yelled from the end of the middle school hallway as kids tried to rush past you and out the school.

“(Y/L/N)!” Steve yelled back as he shut his locker and lightly jogged down to the end of the hall to meet you. As he met you with a smile you both walked out of the school and continued on the way down to the end of the street. You and Steve both walked home and went in the same general direction, so it just made sense to Steve for you both to just walk together. Thus, a friendship was born.

“Did you see Mrs. Karly today? What was the deal with those glasses? They made her look like an owl.” He said and you both laughed picturing the big bright orange circular glasses on Mr. Karly’s thin and brittle face.

“Well it was nothing compared to Carol’s new braces.” You chuckled smiling at Steve as both your laughter died down.

Once you guys where further away from the school you sighed and your head fell. Steve could sense that something wasn’t quite right with you and he playfully pushed your shoulder.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked as he could feel a type of fear grow in his stomach.

“It’s nothing really. I think I’m just worrying for no reason…Maybe?” You questioned facing him.

“Spill the beans, (Y/N).” He said and you just sighed.

“Do you think we will still be friends, Steve. In high school? I mean we only have one more semester of middle school, one, and then a new cycle of everything begins.” You let the words fall from your mouth as you tugged on your back pack straps.

Steve looked at you baffled wondering why you would think he’d leave you. Steve really liked you, really liked you. You were funny, and honest, and not to mention very pretty. What would bring him to not have you around him in the slightest had to end.

“Of course we will.” He said in a stern tone unsure of how to exactly convince you he didn’t want to be anywhere you weren't. You laughed and the way he looked at you with such seriousness made your checks warm.

“Yeah, of course, we will.” You said with a smile as you looked at Steve. He coughed and looked away as a hand found the back of his neck, his body temperature rising causing him to flush red. You laughed and punched him in the shoulder and you both just died of laughter.

When you both parted ways that night to your proper houses, you both had a lot to think about.

“Just forget about it.” Steve said, clearly cranky and an out of place redness to his face. “She’s your friend, why don’t you ask her.”

“After how upset you just made her, with only saying, what, eleven words in total to her. I’m clearly afraid to ask her anything.” Robin and Steve finished putting the multiple boxes from the floor onto the shelves. “So, go on, what exactly happened? High school is over, right?” Steve rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair from the break room table and sat down. Steve hasn’t really talked about you since his last rant about you to Nancy Wheeler.

“I just don’t understand! It’s like she’s lost her goddamn mind! What is she thinking getting between Carol and Tommy like that?” Steve exclaimed to Nancy. Nancy was listening to Steve, but her mind was also going elsewhere with thoughts of Barb’s parents and how her and Steve had to cancel dinner, yet again. “She’s not stupid, Nance. She has to know that Carol isn’t taking this lightly.” Steve said with frustration as he ran his hand through his hair. Nancy just nodded making a noise of affirmation.

Steve was trying to focus on the road and wrap his head around your actions and why all of a sudden you chose to mess around with Tommy. Tommy, of all people, Tommy. Really? It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his blood boil at just the thought of Tommy.

He was a giant prick! If anyone knew that, you did! You constantly reprimanded Tommy. He couldn’t believe it when he first overheard some people in the hallway gossiping about it. You hated Tommy, you have since fifth grade. Tommy! Who’s next, that new guy, Billy? Steve’s hand moved from his hair as he put it out of the car window. Steve grunted as subconsciously his foot put more weight on the gas.

Why are you fucking around and acting like a child? Is it because he hasn’t apologized for what he said at that party junior year? Is it because you needed some type of drama? What ever happened to Michael McEvers? Were you just lonely and would just take anyone? What was he chopped liver?!

“Steve!” Nancy shouted and Steve brought his full attention back to the road and the stop sign fast approaching. Steve’s foot slammed on the break as he watched the blue Camaro race past their four way stop. Steve and Nancy both caught their breath and looked at each other. Steve took a deep breath and just slammed his hands against the steering wheel. Nancy, finally pulled out of her own thoughts of guilt began to comfort Steve as he laid his head against the steering wheel and sighed.

Somehow, he managed to make it through a lecture from his father this morning, starting yet another college application, a rough basketball practice with Billy joining the team, and a deep conversation with Nancy that nearly avoided a break up. And this, this was just the icing on the cake. Steve’s eyes started to water.

“Steve, honey, it’s okay.” Nancy’s brows furrowed as she cooed and rubbed Steve’s back.

“She just-. I just-.” Steve began but kept getting cut off by his own sobs. “I should’ve stuck around. I shouldn’t have blown her off. I kept meaning to call. I keep meaning to show up at her door and talk with her. I should’ve been there for (Y/N), Nancy. Why wasn’t I there?” Steve sat up and put the car in park. “O-Oh yeah, that’s right I was too busy being an absolute a-ass.” Steve sniffed trying to pull it together. Nancy leaned against Steve’s shoulder and ran her hand up and down his arm.

“Steve, things happen. People get busy, especially after what we just went through. You can’t let yourself be responsible for everyone. It’s okay.” Nancy said as she placed a kiss on his cheek and genuinely felt bad for Steve. Steve just sighed out a chuckle and shook his head slowly. He could’ve fixed things with you. Steve took another big sniff and without even thinking he just started speaking.

“I just miss (Y/N), so much, Nance. If I could go back and get her, I would. In a heartbeat.” Steve rubbed his red and irritated eyes and his mind just focused on you.

They sat there as Nancy seriously began to contemplate on her and Steve’s relationship, and the relationships they didn’t take.

Steve regretfully looked at Robin as she sat on the edge of her seat. Steve sighed and took a deep breath.

“We just got into a fight. That’s all.”

“You can’t just leave it at that. I need to know the details.” Robin said with a raging curiosity in her mind. Robin knew that you would tell her in your own time, but she wanted to know now. It was hard to admit but Steve’s goofiness was growing on her and the fact that he actually did stuff at Scoops and she wasn’t alone anymore made her life a lot easier. Robin looked furiously at Steve and he just sighed.

“Take a seat.” He said and gestured to the other seat. As Robin took a seat, Steve thought about where to begin. It’s funny how you can recall things in such vivid detail and once someone asks you what happened you can’t find the words to say to describe it.

A laugh escaped both yours and Steve’s lips as you flopped down on the king sized bed that belonged to Tammy Thompson’s parents. You both laid next to each other on the bed. Neither of you were drunk, just a little tipsy. You both had drunk enough just to find each other and sneak off together.

As you stared at the ceiling Steve’s eyes were glued to you. He took in the way your hair fanned out onto the bed and how it looked against the dark purple comforter. He wondered what was going on in that head of yours and how he could work his way in there and take up as much of your attention as he could.

As you rolled your head over to look at him and you had a big goofy smile on your face. A redness started to become present on your cheeks.

“What?” You questioned as you playfully punched him on the shoulder. You focused on blinking as if your eyes were cameras taking pictures of this moment and capturing it so you could put those pictures into a scrapbook.

“You are beautiful, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” He said with rose tinted cheeks that he blamed the booze on. He also blamed the booze on this need to be close to you, this need to tell you how wonderful you are, and how he had to be touching you. As his hand laid against yours his eyes studied the way your lips looked, and he couldn’t help but wonder what flavor chapstick they tasted like.

“Shut up, Steve. You’re drunk.” You stated as you snuck a glance at his lips telling yourself not to linger for too long. You couldn’t make that mistake tonight, even though the thought of both your lips synchronized in harmony against each other warmed you to your core.

“What, and you’re not?” Steve asked as he looked into your eyes. You bit your lip, like a tease, and Steve swore on God that you were going to be the death of him. He wanted your body pressed against his, he wanted his hands to roam over every square inch of your body, he needed to know how your lips felt against his. As his thoughts drove him insane he came to the conclusion that tonight, wasn’t the night for that. Not while you both of you were almost off your asses, you deserved better. He wanted to give you better.

You turned on your side as you propped yourself up you began to think about that one conversation you had on that one walk home from school. Your mind quick to distract yourself from the intrusive thoughts of Steve.

“Why didn’t we stay friends, Steve?” You questioned sadly, not exactly wanting to take that road. It was too late now and now you had to know.

“We still are friends.” Steve lied looking up at the ceiling and away from you. Steve couldn’t look at you and lie, he couldn’t handle the way your features settled into disappointment.

“Bullshit. We really aren’t, Steve. This is the first night in, like, forever that we have had an actual fragment of a conversation.” You said exasperated, beginning to get annoyed.

“(Y/N), can we not, can we just-.” You sighed and sat up. As sadness filled the room where drunken laughter once rang out. Steve followed you quickly and reached for your wrist. “Hey. C’mon, (Y/N), what does it matter? We are friends right now. Stay with me.” You yanked your arm away from his gentle grip.

“What does it matter?” You said standing up and Steve sighed. Your heart broke. Steve sat up straight up as he felt the consequences of what he said.

He fucked up, he royally fucked up.

“It matters because I’ve tried calling and everytime I did your mom answered and said you were out. Or that- that you had a friend over to help you study.” You said putting air quotes around the words “out” and “study”.

“I’ve been busy.” Steve said, and he has been. Trying to navigate his way through his feelings and thoughts. Evaluating what he wanted and building a reputation along the way. You just chuckled and Steve stood up annoyed. “Like you haven’t?” He questioned with an edge to his voice. Trying to keep the volume down not wanting anyone to overhear.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned and Steve stood there dumbfounded. You weren’t with him, therefore you had to have been busy.

“You know what it’s supposed to mean. I’ve seen you around with Michael and his crew of football cronies!” His voice raised and stern, any thought of keeping anyone from hearing gone. You let out a sharp laugh. “Which has apparently given you a complex to just go and call anyone out. You yelled at Tommy just this past week.”

“Tommy needed to be yelled at! He was ogling up Barb and Nancy like they were greasy hamburgers fresh off the grill!”

“That’s what Tommy does! He’s harmless!” Steve bickered back.

“So that’s supposed to make it okay?” You questioned raising your brows and looking at him in disbelief.

“What? No, of course not!” You just shook your head and rolled your eyes.

“Then why don’t you say anything? Why don’t you call Tommy out on his bullshit? Ever! You just stand there with this look on your face. It’s like you know what you are doing is wrong but you don’t do anything about it! You just stand there with this shit eating grin and it’s not you! It’s not you.” You yelled and Steve was left speechless. He didn’t know what to say and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to say it. Tears were threatening to start to pour, but you just sniffed refusing to start crying.

Steve wanted to apologize. Steve knew you were right. Steve understood that his actions weren’t a true reflection of who he was. He was just lost and the attention he was getting wasn’t something he wanted to give up, yet. So as most things go.

“Not me? (Y/N), you don’t know me! You don’t know shit about me and you can’t stand here and lecture me when you have your own title you don’t even live up too! Queen of Hawkins my ass! You show off this fake face to everyone and feed into their obsession of seeing if they can please you or not. They see this mean character that you mask around as and you love it!” He yelled and you just laughed because you knew he was right to a point.

“Yeah, well, at least they get honesty from me!” You shouted back at him.

“Do they get the complete honest you, though?” Steve asked his voice lowering, selfishly hoping that he was the only one that knew this you. The real you. You stood there refusing to give him the ‘no’ he wanted and you gritted your teeth as you headed for the door. As your hand gripped the door knob you took a deep shaky breath and then exhaled. As you faced Steve with a couple tears leaking out of your eyes. Steve’s demeanor softened and he regretted everything he just said. He went to bring you into a him but stopped as you flinched away from him. You longed for his embrace but you knew it would shatter your already broken pieces. Steve stood frozen, broken, and hesitantly awaiting for you to say something. Anything.

“Like you said, ‘what does it matter’? We all put on these facades and we don’t get hurt. I don’t get hurt.” You said as strongly as you could as you opened the door and began to walk away from the room as quickly as you could without alerting the rest of the party that something had happened in that room. Steve just looked at the empty doorway and his jaw tightened. He paced the length of the bed thinking.

“Shit.” He shouted frustrated with himself. What was he doing? Maybe it wasn’t too late to change. Maybe he could fix things, fix this. Steve took strong strives out the door and he began to scan the hall for you. His pace quickened as he repeated your name.

“(Y/N).” He tried to say audible enough for you to hear over the blaring music as you made a beeline for the stairs.

“(Y/N)! I need-!” Steve was cut off by a sharp hit on his shoulders. It was Tommy.

“You slept with (Y/N)?” He asked with a sinister grin and a light laugh.

“What? No, Tommy I need to get-.” Steve went to begin.

“You dog!” Tommy shouted. “King Steve! King Steve! King Steve!” As Tommy began to chant the whole party started to join in. With their chants getting louder and louder you turned and glared at Steve.

Steve’s heart broke and your glassy eyes told him enough. You stumbled down the stairs and away from the chanting upstairs.

“(Y/N), wait!” Steve shouted as he began to take off after you. The chanting followed Steve down the stairs, Tommy sinsterly lurking behind him. His eyes glued to the back of your head as he tried to get as close as he could to you. He didn’t want to let go, he wanted to fix this.

As you were almost out the door you tripped over the now stained welcome mat and into Michael McEvers arms.

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Michael asked concerned pulling you up and you just nodded while trying to dry your eyes and sniffling. Steve was so close to touching you when Michael’s eyes met Steve’s he knew Steve did something. “Get away from her, Harrington!” Michael shouted as he pulled you out into the porch and slammed the door behind you. Steve went to go after you to make things right but Tommy’s hand found Steve’s shoulder holding him back.

“Let the slut go. C’mon we can get you another.” Tommy said wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Maybe it was best that he let you go. He’d only say the wrong things and hurt you even more. He couldn’t fix this, he couldn’t make things right, it was just too late. He had to accept that. Michael was a good guy anyway, he could give you things Steve couldn’t. Steve took a deep breath furrowing his brows as a headache started to form.

“Let’s get you wasted.” Tommy said as he went to go get Steve a drink. Being wasted and feeling as light as air sounded a hell of a lot better than how heavy and broken he felt now.

As Steve finished his brief synopsis of your guys’s argument to Robin, guilt settled in his stomach.

“And you didn’t say anything after that night?”

“No, I figured it was best to leave her be. She didn’t need me anymore. Or at all to be completely honest.” Steve said as the bell from outside rang and he stood up pushing in the chair and working his way to the front. Robin followed him on his heels. He silently thanked whatever customer rang the front bell.

“Are you serious?” She questioned wondering how someone could be so stupid.

“I wasn’t going to waste my breath.” Steve said. He thought about making it up to you countless times. But, one time he called when he really needed you, desperately needed you, you couldn’t get to the phone.

“You are joking?” Robin was astounded with how much of an idiot Steve was being.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” You strained out through a hick-up as you leaned against Robin’s shoulder looking at both of your reflections in the pool. Robin just laughed.

“Let me just waltz up to Tammy Thompson and say, ‘Hey! I really like you and I think you should’ve been gazing into my eyes instead of at that stupid Steve Harrington!’ yeah, you do that and then tell me how well it works for you.” Robin continued to laugh. It was a movie night and for some reason you couldn’t focus on that dumb rom-com you picked. Which lead to you sneaking some beers from your dad's “secret” stash and hiding out in the backyard wasted with Robin. Sitting on the side of the pool with your bare feet in the water and you smiled sadly. Steve, “the hair”, Harrington. King Steve. You snickered at the thought of him and you could almost smell a faint hint of Farrier Fawcett hairspray.

“What made you two go at each other’s throats all the time?” Robin just asked. You looked at her confused.

“You and Steve. You guys were always bickering and it literally made no sense. I mean you were Queen and he was King of Hawkins. Why didn’t you guys run the place together?” You nodded sadly understanding what Robin was saying.

“Yeah, I really liked, Steve. Like I mean I liked him.” You said with an emphasis on “liked”, but it was so much more than the simple like.

“Oh.” Robin said shortly understanding fully well how that stuff works.

“But then he turned into ass hat McAsserton and everything changed. He just pissed me off so much, and it wasn't him, like, I know Steve Harrington. He is such a goof and he was being someone I knew, I knew he wasn’t and I just couldn’t stand it. He’s such an-.”

“He’s changed, y’know.” Robin cut you off. “He’s lonely.” Steve had just hired in at Scoops Ahoy and Robin could tell that something had changed and for the better. You scoffed and slid off of her shoulder as you laid on the wood deck connected to the above ground pool.

“Okay.” You snorted refusing to get your hopes up.

“If you could change why couldn’t he?” Robin stated as she leaned back to joining you. “Think about it.” Robin was right as she usually was. You took a deep breath and thought about that night. You should talk to him. You should go see him. You should be there. Then maybe this weight on your chest would be gone. This summer you would finally patch things up with Steve Harrington once and for all. A creed you pushed aside in the morning once the hangover was gone.

“Well, I think you could do better than Tammy anyway.” You said as you turned your head and looked at her with a smile.

“You think?” Robin asked knowing what you were doing, but she just let it be. She wasn’t going to force you to talk about anything you didn’t want to talk about.

“Oh my god, definitely, Robin.” You both laughed as your thoughts wondered about Steve.

“Don’t you miss her?” Robin asked, her tone giving away her confusion.

“Of course I miss her, Robin.” Steve said in a matter of fact tone. “What can I get for you?” Steve asked as he pulled out his ice cream scoop from it’s holster around his waist. He twirled it in his hand as the old lady examined the flavors.

“You do understand that all of this could be solved by just talking to her. Right?” Robin said with her hands on her hips and a serious look in her eyes.

“Gee, I never thought of that.” Steve said with an airy laugh.

“How about the mint chocolate chip?” The lady said squinting trying to figure out who exactly she was talking to.

“You could have fooled me, Steve.” Steve made a ‘tsk’ sound as he shook his head and began scooping up some ice cream.

“It’s a lot easier said than done when you have that much history with someone, especially someone as stubborn as her. Also, she could come to me, y’know.” Steve said putting the ice cream into a sugar cone and taking it down to the register handing it to the old lady not even bothering to ring her up. “It’s on the house.” Steve said frustrated, what if you didn’t want him around anyway.

“Why thank you, Miss.” She said taking it and hobiling away. Robin stifled a laugh as Steve threw his hands in the air out of frustration. Today has not been his day.

“Steve.” Robin said straightening up bringing her focus back to the matter at hand. “Do you honestly think the Queen of Hawkins would go to you first? Especially when she was in the height of her high school career? Honestly? Especially after the whole school branded her a slut after that party. Which you totally should have done something about, by the way. Jumping from you to Michael when she didn’t even have a thing with either of you.” Steve stood up straight.

“She didn’t have a thing with Michael? They were dating, holding hands in the hall and everything.” Steve said feeling completely and utterly confused.

“No, dingus. Michael’s-. (Y/N) fake dated him to keep it from getting out that him and Tyler were, well,-.” Robin said not exactly knowing how to phrase what she was saying. She tried to be cautious not knowing how Steve would take the news that Michael McEvers was totally gay. “A thing.” She said with little fear while she scanned Scoops Ahoy with her prefils hoping the two people there weren’t catching on.

“Michael McEvers?” Steve questioned wondering how he didn’t pick up on it. Then again he could’ve sworn Jonathan Byers was gay, but he was currently seriously invoved with Nancy. “Wait, how do you know that?” Steve asked Robin with an eyebrow raised.

“(Y/N) told me.” Robin said quick to get any suspicious thoughts about herself away from the conversation.

“Shit.” Steve mumbled.

“Y’know I think that pale yellow looks great on you, Mike.” You said as you straightened up Michael’s cardigan.

“Really?” He questioned.

“Of course.” You said as you leaned against the lockers. “Tyler doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Michael shut his locker as he awkwardly took your hand.

“Thank you, for all this.” Michael said quietly and you just smiled.

“Please don’t mention it.” You smiled softly as you both walked down the hall.

“Do you want to go to the movies tonight? Tyler will meet us there.”

“Yeah. Of course.” You said and Michael continued to talk. As you and Michael walked to Algebra you both passed Nancy and Steve. Yours and Steve’s eyes locked, a sadness lingering over the noisy hall. As you passed you looked straight ahead while Steve looked back.

“Steve?” Nancy questioned.

“Uh huh.” Steve said and looked back at Nancy.

“You have basketball tonight, right?”

“Right.” Steve said as he let go of Nancy’s hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“So a double cheeseburger with a side of onion rings and a large coke to go.” You read off the order to Billy while simultaneously ringing it up.

“You got it, Queen.” Billy said with a wink and you rolled your eyes. Billy had a fascination with you and he couldn’t just place his finger on what made you so different. He liked your attitude and he liked the way you handled yourself.

You and Billy never got together, together, and maybe that’s why he liked you, you weren't throwing yourself at his feet.

Usually when Billy was around you were open and gentle with him, because you could tell he was dealing with something that he couldn’t handle. You wanted Billy to know if, or when, he wanted to talk that you were here.

“What’s the matter, doll?” Billy asked before he could even think about why he even asked.

“Nothing, Billy.” You sighed as you sent the order to Sal. The diner still as empty as it was an hour ago.

“C’mon. I haven’t seen you this frustrated since I almost T-boned Harrington’s car.” Billy laughed.

“That wasn’t funny, he and Nancy could’ve really gotten hurt. Not to mention we could’ve really gotten hurt.” You said leaning against the counter facing him.

“It was an adrenaline trip and you can’t deny that. Almost had you in my lap.” He laughed and you smirked.

“You and I remember that drive very differently then.” You laughed and crossed your arms. Billy smirked trying to think of something that might cheer you up. Maybe keep that smile around.

“Do you remember that Halloween party? Do you remember Tommy being shit faced and his face just colliding with the porch cement out back. He always was a giant prick.” Billy laughed and you did to. You didn’t go to that Halloween party but you had heard about it. You were appreciating what Billy was trying to do so you just went along with it nodding and laughing.

“Mom! Get the phone, please! I’m kind of busy!” You yelled as the phone rang off the hook and you tried to paint your nails with your non dominant hand and flip a page in your magazine at the same time. The last thing you wanted to do was answer the phone to a drunk sobbing Carol asking why you weren’t at this party to comfort her while Tommy hit on anything with a pulse. Steve was also there with Nancy and you didn’t feel like feeling like shit for once. You didn’t want to be jealous of Nancy anymore. You didn’t want to see them. As the phone stopped ringing, your mom obviously not grabbing it, you just sighed. Finally, just some time by yourself. Nice and quiet-. Your thoughts suddenly interrupted by the phone ringing again.

“Mom!” You yelled as your aggravation got the better of you.

“Hold on!” Your mom yelled from downstairs as she shut the door on a couple of trick or treaters in ghostbuster costumes. As she sauntered her way over to the phone she picked it up with a friendly hello.

“The (Y/L/N) residents, (Y/M/N) speaking.”

“H-Hey, Mrs. (Y/L/N). I-It’s a- um Steve. Is (Y/N) around by any chance?” Steve choked out through tears.

“Steve Harrington?” Your mom questioned with an edge to her voice.

“Uh,-.” Steve coughed. “Yeah, Steve Harrington.” He said his voice breaking while he was hoping to God you were home. Your mom chewed the inside of her cheek as she contemplated her next few words as wisely as she could. She knew Steve and she knew that he sent you into multiple whirl winds of consent confusion.

“Mr. Harrington, if you know what is good for you, you’d leave (Y/N) alone and you wouldn’t dare to call this number again.” She threatened and hung up the phone.

Steve on the other end was a mess of tears while his heart felt like a black hole. Steve nodded swallowing back tears. His house was empty, it was just him and the mind numbing silence.

You got up from your desk and went down the stairs to see your mom glaring at the telephone and you were completely bewildered by her strange and unusual attitude. The doorbell rang and as you went to the kitchen she went towards the door.

What could that phone call possibly be about to make your mother's whole attitude change on a dime.

“One double cheeseburger with side onion rings to go!” Sal shouted and as you picked up the to go bag and coke you glanced at the clock. Only 30 minutes left to your shift then Jessica comes in to replace you.

“Well, Billy here you go.” You said as you handed Billy his to go bag of grease.

“(Y/N), if you need a time out, you know my number.” Billy said with a sly smile. His intentions were truly pure, maybe Billy was also growing old of the part he used to play. You smiled at him not breaking eye contact.

“I know, Billy. I know.” you said as Billy completely took the bag and gave you a cheeky wink.

“I’ll see you later, alright?” He said as he turned and left.

“Whatever you say, Billy.” You chuckled and waved. As you watched him leave you heard Sal whistle.

“What?” You snapped as you had a light glare targeted at him.

“You two would be cute together, that’s all.” You rolled your eyes, unfortunately a lover wasn’t on the agenda for you. But, when did your agenda ever go as planned?

Steve was on the escalator on his way down to the first floor to grab himself and Robin a corn dog as a little snack that wasn’t ice cream. On his way over there he peered into the diner and saw Billy leaving. Steve just scoffed as he hopped off the elevator peering through the big open entrance of the diner catching glimpses of you. As he headed towards Hot Dog On A Stick he stopped. He could see your full frame as you laughed at something someone must’ve said. As he leaned against the pillar near him he examined how when you laughed your hand found your mouth. Steve chuckled as his cheeks grew pink and his stomach flipped excitedly.

He wanted to make things better and that’s all he’s been able to think about since hearing your voice earlier. Since he saw you earlier.

Steve didn’t think he’d ever even see you again. He thought for sure you’d be packed up and out on your own, away from Hawkins, away from him. College bound with the world at your feet. Maybe it was a sign? Maybe it was time. It’s been so long, too long. A peace offering. He needed a peace offering. His brain told him to move, to get going. To use this excitement that was coursing through his veins to pull something together. But his body didn’t move, instead he continued to lean against that pillar and look at you. Just look at you and the way when you really started to laugh you you would throw your head back. He just wanted to look at you for a while longer.

“I swear you just want me to leave.” You said as your laughter died down. You glanced out into the mall and your eyes unexpectedly locked with Steve’s. A light smile on your face as Steve quickly looked away and took off towards Hot Dog On A Stick. You sighed, just talk to him. He wasn’t going to bite, quit being stubborn and grow up.

“Hey, Sal, I’ll be right back. I’ve got something I have to do real quick.” You said and began to lightly jog out of the restaurant and catch up with Steve.

“Hey. Hey!” Sal called and you just waved. Sal rolled his eyes as your eyes locked on the back of Steve’s head. Enough is enough. You are an adult now. You can pick up after yourself and mend relationships. As you finally caught up to Steve and stood behind him in line, and you were about to touch his shoulder to get his attention when all of that confidence left and was replaced with doubt. What if he was still mad? What are you doing? He should be coming to you. He’s the one that fucked up, not you. Turn around and go back.

“I can help you over here, ma’am.” Said a spunky looking teenage girl in a bright and obnoxious primary colored uniform. She pulled you out of your thoughts causing Steve to glance behind him.

“I, uh-.” You began but was cut off by Steve.

“She’s with me.” Steve said quickly, praying that you actually were with him. If you said yes it would make it easier to explain the apology corn dog, if not he’d probably get cold feet and give not only your corn dog to Robin, but his own.

“Uh, um, yeah.” You said awkwardly and he smiled letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I’m with him.” So cold feet weren’t an option. Steve had to go through with this long over do make up conversation. You smiled and the girl at the other register just rolled her eyes.

“Three corn dogs.” Said a man in front of Steve holding them between his fingers. Steve broke eye contact with you, turned, and grabbed the corn dogs.

“Thanks.” He said with a smile and handed over some cash. “Keep the change.” Steve spit out quickly as he turned back to you.

“Let’s go for a walk.” You stated not giving Steve the option to turn you down.

“Definitely.” As you both walked out into the nearly empty food court you held your hands behind your back. How did this work? How do you talk to someone you know so well, but were mere strangers with.

“This.” Steve said holding out a corn dog. “This is for you. If you want it of course. I wanted to get you one so we could start talking. Well, I could start talking to you, make it less awkward and maybe soften you up a bit.” Steve let out an awkward laugh and you just smiled. “I don’t even know if you really like corn dogs. I know you used to. I remember when we went to the state fair and you got one that was the size of your head. You said it was good, but people's taste buds change. I guess I should’ve gone with candy, or maybe flowers. I should’ve thought this out-.”

“Steve, you’re beginning to ramble.” You said taking the corn dog. Only Steve Harrington, only Steve Harrington.

“Right, so.” He said before starting in on his corn dog. God, this was hard. You both walked in an awkwardly comfortable silence and before too long Steve’s corn dog was gone. Steve’s always been a nervous eater, it was quite an adorable little quirk he had. You took a bite of your corn dog and held the corn dog closer to him, signaling you’d share yours with him.

“This is a bit weird.” You said as Steve leaned and took a bite of your corn dog. He didn’t say anything but he did agree. It’s been almost two years since you didn’t snap at him the first time you saw him and he didn’t run away. You took another bite of your corn dog and then passed it back to Steve.

“Y’know, I think the sailor uniform fits you, it’s kind of cute.” You laughed and Steve almost choked.

“S-Seriously?” He laughed and you couldn’t wipe the grin from your face.

“Seriously.” You said with a nod as you guys continued to walk down through the food court. No idea where you were going or how much time has passed. It felt like you’ve been walking for hours, both your corn dogs gone and Robin’s getting cold. When in reality it was only mere minutes since you’ve left the register at Hot Dog On A Stick. You caught a glimpse of Jessica walking into the diner.

“Steve, I, uh, I’ve got to go. Maybe-.” You started trying to break away from this until you had yourself together and you could put together what you wanted to say and how you wanted to say it.

“I’m sorry.” Steve blurted out. He had to say this before you left. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve called. I was scared you wouldn’t want to listen to me. I’m still afraid you don’t want to listen to me. I should’ve came around, I just. I thought I was-. I’m a schmuck. I was a real asshole and I’m so sorry. You looked like you had everything figured out. I didn’t think you’d want to deal with me. I tried calling one time and your mom answered, she told me to leave you alone. I mean, I couldn’t blame her, in fact I could even agree with her. I already put you through a lot. It felt wrong, but you seemed to be doing alright and I thought that maybe if I searched for you elsewhere I wouldn’t miss you as much. It didn’t work, I mean it helped, but it didn’t work. I miss you so much. I want to make things right, I have got to make things right with you. You don’t have to stay around, I just need to know how you feel. I get it if you don’t want to see me again. I’ll leave right now if you want me too. I’ll pack up my sailor hat and I’ll-.” Steve started to speak quickly not even really thinking about the words coming out of his mouth. He just had so much to say and it was pointless for him to try and organize all of it. He wanted you to know every thought that ran through his mind.

“Steve.” You interrupted him and as he caught his breath you grabbed ahold of one of his hands. “I’m sorry too, so unbelievably sorry. I miss you too.” You smiled lightly and Steve let out a nervous sigh as his eyes traveled to your hands holding one of his.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Jessica yell from the diner. You whipped your head around.

“In a minute!” You yelled across the mall. You faced Steve and followed his eyes down to your hands. You quickly let go with an awkward chuckle. Steve let a small smile escape as he saw your cheeks go a rosy red and you playfully pushed him away.

“Truce?” He asked holding out his hand. You smirked and took it both of your hands gliding down each others wrist as your pinkies enter locked. You both had wicked smirks plastered on your faces as you both chuckled.

“You dork.” You said and Steve’s mouth hung open dramatically.

“I’m the dork? You did it too.” He laughed and you both just felt so at peace that it didn’t matter that your fingers were starting to intertwine.

“(Y/N)! Come clock out!” Jessica obnoxiously yelled from the opening of the diner.

“Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.” You said as you began to head off towards the diner, your heart lighter than air.

“Movie night tonight, right?” He shouted.

“That’s up to Robin not me!” You shouted turning and walking backwards. “I don’t think she’s sold on you, yet!” You joked and turned back around and entered the diner.

Steve chuckled taking a bite of the other corn dog in his hand. Not sold on him, yet? How could she not be sold on him yet. As Steve swallowed his bite of corn dog he realized that Robin wasn’t going to be sold on him if he went back upstairs with a cold corn dog with a bite taken out of it.

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kiridork · 5 years

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Kyo’s Take on His Relationship With Yuki

This is a few months old so bare with me if I get something wrong

Because I don’t have any specialties in Yuki and his take on this relationship, I’m going to talk about Kyo’s side of things. It’s early on into his life that we see him compared to Yuki. He talks about this on the roof with Tohru in volume 2 and we see an image of him as a child. “‘Children born in the year of the rat are special.’ ‘Of course he’s special’ ‘especially compared to the cat boy…’” (vol. 2 pg.51). It gets worse for him as he grows up and his mom commits suicide. According to Akito “apparently she left a will -- if you can call it that. Something like, ‘being with him became too painful. Maybe if he’d been born as the rat things would’ve been a little happier.’ Something like that.” (vol. 15 pg. 45) I personally think combined with losing his mom, these rumors going around, and sadly just having his dad’s genes, he snapped and that’s when he attained his anger and distaste for Yuki. Because he can “blame” Yuki for it (unconsciously, I don’t think he would be 100% aware of what he was doing at this point).

He moves in with Kazuma and he meets Kyoko and all that happens (between these points is where he meets Yuki the two times we see it in Yuki’s childhood in volume 15). Let’s move into the hat scene. Tohru is lost, Kyo actually meets Kyoko, makes his promise, and goes to find Tohru. He comes back and he sees the red cap the she has in her hand and instantly knows it Yuki because it’s the exact same hat that shishou bought for him (though anyone could have that hat so I don’t know why kyo took a shot in the dark and assumed that it was yuki). Kyo blows up in Kyoko’s face, calling him a jerk even if Yuki saved Tohru because he’s bad and that’s it nothing else matters. Kyoko, obviously, calls him out on this, “If you don’t have someone to hate you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself would you?” (vol. 20 pg. 187) “If you live your life and only focus on those things you’ll be wasting what you do have.” (vol. 20 pg. 188). Again, Kyo blows up in her face a leaves because of a mixture of not understanding and again, the unconscious grab of holding Yuki accountable for everything bad in his life.

Fast forward again, he’s a teenager, still hating Yuki. Kyoko’s accident happens, he falls into a depression. Kazuma takes him to the mountains to make him feel better. It doesn’t. “Nothing worked. I felt like the only thing I could do was die like she had.” (vol. 21 pg. 21) In his thoughts of committing suicide, he realizes that there’s another way to get out of it. And that is to blame Yuki. “I told myself it was Yuki’s fault. I made up some sort of bad guy. And I shoved all the responsibility onto him.” (vol. 21 pg. 22) “It was so… simple. I couldn’t believe how much better I felt. I just shifted the blame.” (vol. 21 pg. 22). So Kyo is now knowing what he was doing. And he doesn’t care because he feels better. This is the key element to his problems of his character in itself that will soon be taken care of. This moment is exactly him acting like his father, which is something I discussed before on here. Anyways, he’s better, he leaves the mountains to end of meeting with Akito and then they make the bet. The bet of if Kyo can beat Yuki before they graduate, then he is free of confinement. Which just seals the deal for him. “Maybe… deep down, I was really happy. To be told that, I mean. Not because it meant I could join the zodiac. But because I had another reason to beat Yuki.” (vol. 21 pg. 24). Kyo not has a legitimate reason to hate Yuki and something he can fall onto as his “main” reason why he hates him so much.

Kyo goes to Shigure’s, breaks into his ceiling, meets Tohru, and somehow gets roped to living with her, shigure, and yuki. Tohru is a god send and helps them become closer. Well at this point, they still hate each other, but everyone is starting to notice how much calmer they have become. “Before, they gave off a more intense… ‘Stay away from me’ vibe. But now it feels like it softened.” (Haru vol. 3 pg. 57). And it’s because they have one thing in common: how much they care about Tohru. Now when Kagura brings up how she’d like them to continue to get along, Kyo, who was in sweet bliss for months, is unnerved by this and goes off. “It sucks hanging out with him all the time. I hate Yuki!! And I like hating him!!” (vol. 3 pg. 88) Again, alluding to how hating Yuki gives him a purpose. Shigure shakes him to his core by telling him, “I wonder why? You speak as though you’re obligated to hate him. But your eyes… your eyes tell a different story. They tell me that you’re afraid to find out.” (vol. 3 pg. 89). And he has it on the nose. If he starts liking him, then who is going to carry his baggage? Kyo freaks out and leaves, Tohru goes to console him and Kyo tells her that he’s not ready to deal with his feelings.

I’m not sure if I’m going to be missing anything, but Kyo’s feelings about Kyoko and Yuki don’t pop up again until volume 15. The whole time skip, what is most important from this Kyo and Yuki figuring out their feelings of Tohru, Yuki starting to open his lid and confront his feelings while Kyo’s only thing even dealing with his crap is the fact that he wants to spend as much time with Tohru and that at this point he doesn’t give a shit about trying to beat Yuki or about the bet. Volume 15 is pretty important to both of their developments. Yuki realizing he doesn’t want to compare to Kyo anymore and wants to be his own person. Yuki wants to deal with his crap and resolve it once and for all. Kyo literally wants to stay in the dark. This is truly evident when Yuki brings up the cap to Kyo. “About the hat. Honda-san has it right now. You wouldn’t mind if I don’t give it back, will you?” (vol. 15 pg. 98). Instead of what he would usually do, Kyo just goes up the stairs wanting to skip dinner. This encounter just stirs up all the pent up memories that Kyo was trying to forget. And it does not affect him well at all. This is shown again in volume 15 when Yuki encounters Kyo and calls him out for not going to play rehearsals and in doing so, hurting Tohru (which is Yuki’s mission now for Kyo to not hurt her). Kyo, again, fucking snap and starts screaming at Yuki that he doesn’t know him and he won’t ever know what he’s dealt because he’s perfect. I the middle of his tangent, he remembers what Kyoko had told him before (I reference above, vol. 20 pg. 187) and just cuts off. His response is to immediately punch his fist through the window to snap out of it and walks away. Yuki obviously knows something is up and he knows that whatever it is, Kyo needs to work on it himself. Yuki bluntly says this to Kyo during the play, “Prince Charming I won’t ask what you wish for. I only hope it comes true by your own two hands.” (vol. 15 pg. 163). Which, again, shakes Kyo up.

Nothing really happens for a while dealing with Yuki and Kyo, but a large amount happens to Kyo. Kyo has his nightmare and resolves not to think that Tohru likes him and to keep his distance, him visiting Kyoko’s grave and talking to Tohru’s Grandfather, Tohru telling him of her problems and him telling her “ It’s okay, really. Talk that way as much as you want. It’s not gonna… disillusion me or anything.” (vol. 19 pg. 67). Yuki having his meltdown about tohru and kyo being like his mom and her boyfriend. Other than that nothing until Kyo explains everything to Tohru. Which, even though Yuki and Kyo haven’t had it out yet, that conversation really starts changing their relationship already. Once Kyo takes the blame and puts it onto himself rather than Yuki, it immediately shifts Yuki from being this villain to just a guy that he is supposed to hate but doesn’t and that Kyo actually admires. Tohru tells him she loves him, kyo saying he’s disillusioned, runs off, Tohru falls off the cliff. Once he finds her, it’s all over for him. This point he feels like he’s responsible, his nightmare came true, he shouldn’t be around her or he’ll hurt her. She goes to the hospital and he doesn’t come along. Yuki finds him later in his room sulking. Kyo says to him, after yuki gives him shit about not going to the hospital, “Say what you want. Even if I was there I’d only hurt her. I can’t protect her. She’s better off with you.” (vol. 21 pg. 120). Though Kyo doesn’t know, it’s an insult to Yuki and he’s journey as a person. Here Kyo is, telling him Tohru should be with him, even though Yuki 100% knows that he sees Tohru as his mom and Kyo is the only one that can make Tohru happy the way that he does? That doesn’t fly. Yuki ends up beating the shit out of Kyo and tells him that he’s not a superhero (which in the Tokyopop version he brings up about her being hit by a car and I always found that confusing because it seems as though he’s talking about Kyoko but it logically wouldn’t make sense that he knew about that). The peak of their relationship change happens here: when they confess their feelings for each other (and… not in that way). Kyo literally screams at Yuki “I wanted to be you!” (vol. 21 pg. 124). Yuki, again, beats the shit out of him and tells him to cut his crap (I personally like the fan translation better where he’s just screaming fuck you to him, but I digress). Yuki screams it back, though in this case, he’s telling Kyo to not use this as another excuse. He tells him how much he’s done for Tohru to try and show him how full of shit he is. “... You were protecting her! Open your eyes! You were! You made her laugh! You made her happy! Maybe it was only the little things. It doesn’t have to mean being a superhero. You don’t have to be strong. When you’re with her… just look at her! She’s always smiling around you!” (vol. 21 pg. 28-29). And then he just… tells him that if he admired him so much, and to listen to him. Yuki is the one to get Kyo’s shit together. Maybe it was only for Tohru, maybe he actually did it for the both of them. Whatever it is, it changes their views on each other. They now both understand how they both wanted to be the other and how all of this time, hating each other just wasn’t worth it. At this point on, Kyo now taking Yuki’s advice and Yuki now calling out Kyo’s shit (he doesn’t hold back and actually teases him). If it wasn’t for Yuki, Kyo would have still felt sorry for himself and probably wouldn’t find it in himself to change his life around. Their dynamic changed even with that because Yuki doesn’t look up to Kyo but Kyo is still influence by Yuki. Which is part of Kyo’s character development. Yuki really influenced it. Yuki helped Kyo to get the courage to talk to his dad and for him to realize that he didn’t want to be like that (that key point that I mentioned earlier). This climax of their relationship ends up with them being really close and that is evident by Fruits Basket Another and how Mutsuki and Hajime are really close and spent a lot of their childhood together with their parents.

In the end I still think Kyo admires Yuki at least in the slightest. They are on equal footing but Yuki has himself put more together then Kyo and I can see him going to Yuki for advice. Their relationship is really on equal footing after the curse breaks but I don’t think that it’s necessary for their relationship. They’re more like pushing each other's buttons for shits and giggles now instead of hate. Kyo’s relationship with Yuki is one of the most important factors of Kyo’s character development because Yuki is the one to call him out and to get him to clean up his act. Kyo really owes it to him.

#fruits basket #kyo sohma #yuki sohma #analysis #i wrote this awhile back for my discord server #and was meaning to post it on here #and i just rembered #so have at it

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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618

How old are you? I am 21. But I’m turning 22 in less than four months HOLY SHIT time just flies from here on out. That’s crazy. Are you married? Definitely not. Are you engaged? Nope. Are you dating someone? That I am. Do you have kids? Also no.

What's your favorite alcoholic beverage? I’m a cocktail girl at heart, and Zombie will always be my guilty pleasure. Runners-up include Baileys, Cuervo, and mudshake. Are you happy with your life overall? I wouldn’t say overall, or that I’m happy at all. I’m satisfied with like 40% of it. The rest I still have to work on. Do you have a lot of things that bother you? I’m a perpetual worrier, so yes. Do you think for yourself? Sure, it’s always good to have control in that way. But there are still a lot of things I’m also just as indecisive about so I let my close friends think for me too sometimes. What's a lesson you have learned in the past year? That I should avoid saying I’ll never do a certain thing because I end up doing it anyway and either surprising or disappointing myself. That, and cancel culture is bullshit. What's something you are learning or thinking about currently? Because of my previous answer, I’m now thinking of Nacho. Otherwise, my head’s pretty focused on taking this survey. Are you a Christian? Are you American? Are you happy with the government? I am none of these things. Seems like a waste to just keep saying no to each question so might as well bundle them together haha. Do you follow politics? I do. As much as I hate my country, I’m still concerned about what’s happening to it. Also I kinda have to follow politics considering I’m a journalism student lol. Do you go to church? Yes but there’s zero commitment attached to it. I go because my mom makes our entire family attend mass every Sunday. What is one thing you hate about churches? Majority of the people who attend it are hypocrites. I’m also always repulsed whenever a priest gets all preachy about outdated stuff, like how Filipinos should always just be, at best, tolerant but not accepting of LGBT people, or talking about how wives must always obey their husbands. Ugh YUCK. What school subject did you hate the most? Back in high school, I disliked English but was good at it. Like I didn’t like reading old literature and analyzing texts, but since memorization and writing essays are my fortes I performed well in exams anyway. I did well to get good marks but wasn’t passionate about the subject matter itself, to put it simply. I don’t know if that makes sense. I also hated chemistry, physics, calculus, and trigonometry. Do you want to punch someone in the face? Right now, yes. My uncle is spending a couple of nights in jail for drunk driving on CHRISTMAS DAY and I want to sock him so fucking hard. Are you established in a career? No, not yet. If so, what is your career? If not, what career do you want to have? I want to be able to work in the PR/advertising/marketing world. I’m not yet quite sure where I’d fit in best. Do you have any significant health problems? I have scoliosis, which makes carrying bags difficult. I also can’t stay in the same position for too long because it’ll eventually hurt. Do you wish you could go back to high school? I do think about this quite often these days, yep. Is your life hard? Isn’t it for everyone? I try not to think that way though and to just think about whatever good is going on in my life. Can you trust anyone? I trust everyone I let into my life. That’s the way it is with me: I either trust you or you’re out of my life completely. What's your favorite swear word? Fuck.

Do you swear? Kinda just did, dude. Are you happy with the way you look? For the most part. Do you have any big regrets? I have regrets, just not big ones. Do you have a lot of unpopular opinions? I’m not sure if it counts as a lot but I definitely have my share of unpopular opinions that have never seen the light of day that is social media lololol. Do you think for yourself? Most of the time I don’t. Gab scolds me sometimes for being too ‘selfless,’ or at least that’s the word she uses. What was your favorite toy as a child? I liked toy soldiers, cash registers, and kitchen sets. What year did you graduate high school? 2016.

What chore do you hate the most? Among the ones I do, it’ll probably be folding clothes cos I can never do it as neatly as my mom does. Do you cook? Nope. Do you bake? I do not. I wish I can start, though. I feel like that could survive as a hobby of mine haha. What do you do for exercise? I used to have a PE class that made me exercise rigorously twice a week, but the class is already over and I haven’t done anything to exercise since. Such a shame to be honest, because that class really was useful for me. Are you on a diet? Never been on one. How many pounds do you want to lose? I’m a bit underweight so that’s not my goal at all lmao. Coffee or tea? Coffee. What's your favorite flavor of tea? I don’t like tea. What's your favorite latte? I don’t have lattes a lot either. What do you usually order at Starbucks? Caramel macchiato. Are you living your dreams? Some aspects of it, sure. Are you angry at someone right now? Not really. I’m disgusted with my uncle, but he had it coming to him that I’m not even angry at what happened lol. How do you deal with stress? It varies. I’ll watch videos, take a survey or two, study, rant to a friend, pig out, etc. Are you stressed? Not right now. What do you miss the most about high school? HOW EASY IT WAS. I had BALLS complaining about high school when I was still in it. What do you miss the most about college? The free time. I spent my freshman year horribly depressed and wasted an entire year being a loner and not making the most of it. By the time I bloomed, I was already too busy to just be a college girl and go to bars every night. Who are you mad at? Nobody. You asked this already. Do you have many regrets? No. Are you hopeful? Always. Are you scared? At the back of my head, yes. Did you have imaginary friends? Nope. Which do you like better: being an adult or being a kid? Adult. I miss being a kid of course, but I do enjoy the freedom that comes with being a grownup.

#survey #surveys

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creativity-is-rebellion · 4 years

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Top 10 Favourite Movies I Have Seen (So Far)

How to Make an American Quilt (1994)

I’m not sure exactly why, but I have always had a thing for intergenerational movies that go back and forth in time, which I think that this movie does superbly. You get to know each of the character’s backstories, and it is also a coming-of-age film where the main protagonist must choose a path and be happy with the one she goes down. This was a film I would watch again and again as a teenager when I was sad (movie marathons were always the cure for my blues back then). More recently, there are other reasons why this movie appeals to me; I can relate to Finn’s thesis-writing (I know it’s frustrating and easy to distract yourself from), and I can also relate with her dilemma in choosing what kind of future she will have. Also, Winona Ryder can do no wrong. Winona forever.

The Joy Luck Club (1993)

Another intergenerational film, I think it does a great job of juxtaposing the difference between parents who immigrate to another country and their children who do not really understand the sacrifices they have made to actually get there, which can cause rifts and divides. It does this specifically with the Chinese culture in mind, which is fascinating in its own right, and quite different to the US, which is where they immigrate to. The daughters who try to understand their mothers are able to bridge the divide when they are able to empathise with where their parents are coming from, by the parents telling them tales of their origins. My favourite character is hands-down Ying-Ying St. Clair, whose backstory is definitely the most tragic. In China, Ying-Ying was happily married to Lin-Xiao (Russell Wong) with a baby boy in China until Lin-Xiao abuses her and abandons her for an opera singer. Overwhelmed by her depression, Ying-Ying begins to dissociate and accidentally drowns their baby son in the bathtub during one of these episodes, which haunts her ever afterwards. Years later, she has emigrated to America and suffers from trauma of her past, worrying her new family, including her daughter Lena. When she is able to get Lena find her voice and to leave her own abusive husband, Harold. I have nothing but love for this film, which breathes life into Amy Tan’s equally beautiful novel. This film adaptation does the novel proud; It’s well-acted, well-told, and simply just heart-warming.

Sinister (2008)

I love myself a good horror movie, and Sinister flips the script by starting out as a crime mystery before going bananas and introducing Mr. Boogie (or Bughuul), a pagan demon who manipulates the lives of children, having them kill their families, until he can consume the child's soul. Ethan Hawke, who both directs and stars in this film, does a phenomenal acting job as washed-up crime author Ellison Oswalt, who moves his family into one of the homes which was the scene of one of the ‘crimes’, where a whole family has been massacred and one child is missing. It isn’t long until he finds a bunch of 8mm tapes in the attic, which represent the equivalent of snuff films, detailing previous family massacres occurring elsewhere. Seriously, some of these 8mm tapes are both difficult but strangely thrilling to watch, due to their haunting quality. It takes him a while before he becomes aware of Bughuul, who he discovers hiding in the corner of one of the tapes, and who he is able to get to know about with the help of a rookie cop and a professor. The ending is also a delicious twist, and indicates the inevitability of not being able to escape evil. Seriously, it’s a must-watch, as it breathes rare new life into the tired horror genre.

Insidious, Chapter One (2010)

Another worthy 21st century horror addition, the Insidious franchise (especially the first film) delivers some great twists, and creates a rich universe way beyond any ordinary haunted house or child-plagued-by-demon trope, by introducing some genuinely scary characters (The Lipstick Demon, Doll Girl, and the Bride in Black, anyone?!), and also introducing The Further, a dark and timeless astral world filled with tortured dead souls and nightmarish spirits. I love the twist that the end of this movie delivers, and also the appropriate jump-scares throughout. It is yet another horror movie that breathes life into a somewhat tired genre. 10/10, I highly recommend this movie, even if The Lipstick Demon looks kinda like Darth Maul, lol.

Reality Bites (1994)

Although it’s kind of aged badly, due to advancing technology, this movie was one of the first to introduce the idea of reality television, whilst also capturing the zeitgeist of Generation X, with it’s rather nihilist message about life after college, and the trials and tribulations of growing up. Some of the characters (especially Lelaina and Troy) are self-indulgent, immature, intellectually snobby and navel-gazing, but you root for Lelaina to succeed because she is played with enough sympathy by the amazing and incomparable Winona Ryder that we believe she deserves better. This is one of the reasons I hate that she ends up with Troy, even if he is the broody bad boy we are all expected to swoon over. Seriously, he treats Lelaina so badly that I just want to punch him in the face. It also has some great side characters, like Vicky, who works at The Gap, but is scared to find a real job, and Sammy, who is gay and afraid that he may have HIV. It is also relatable for me as a Millenial who graduated from university when the Global Financial Crisis (GFC) hit, making it complicated to find a good job, mirroring the recession that these characters graduated into. I love that it talks about pivotal Generation X issues, as well as universal issues that encompass growing up and moving into adulthood. Also, again, Winona forever.

Candyman (1992)

Candyman is a horror film that subverts horror movie expectations whilst still managing to deliver some great scares. Being set in the long-gone notorious Chicago housing projects Cabrini Green, a name synonymous with vice, violence and murder, and a place which instils non-supernatural horror in an individual all on its own, tells the story of thesis student Helen, who is researching urban legends, and through her participants, she learns the story of Candyman, a vengeful rendition of the classic Bloody Mary, who will split you from groin to gullet with his hook for a hand if you say his name five times in the mirror.

The people who recount this legend go on to recount a notorious murder that has taken place recently in Cabrini Green which has been attributed to Candyman, and Helen chooses to investigate the claim. Helen rationalises that the residents of Cabrini Green use the legend of Candy Man to cope with their stressful daily lives. Before visiting Cabrini Green, Helen and her research associate decide to test the theory by saying ‘Candy Man’ five times in a mirror, but nothing happens, at least not yet. In real life, the murder rate in Cabrini Green peaked in 1992, the same year that Candy Man was made. Candy Man himself (played with great aplomb by the legendary Tony Todd) doesn’t show up until around 44 minutes into the movie, but when he does, he steals the show with his dangerous charisma.

In total, Candy Man subverts 3 horror rules: Number one, that you need to have a high body count to keep audiences engaged. By doing so, it stretches out the tension for as long as it can. Number two, there is a Black antagonist. There were some issues addressed by Black critics that this depiction played into some racist stereotypes, such as the idea that Black people need a White saviour, that Black people are especially superstitious, and that Black men prefer to pursue White women. But one could say that Candy Man is more a depiction of the White fears associated with Black poverty, and specifically, White Liberal fears that Black poverty can’t be helped, despite their best efforts. Helen doesn’t mean any harm (some may even call her an ally), yet she dies anyway.

By making the antagonist Black, the film becomes about so much more than just visceral horror, it is about societal, racial and historical horror as well, albeit told from a White perspective. It also plays into the fear that Black people, through no fault of their own, could be killed for no reason at all but panicky neighbours. Finally, number three, this film is more sad than scary; sadness tends to be the most common negative emotion that I experience, so I am drawn to movies that have something to say about it. The only reason Candy Man gives for wanting to kill Helen is that she demystified him, which seems pretty petty and vindictive. She is also supposed to resemble his long-lost love that got him killed in the first place. When Candy Man kills the psychiatrist in the movie, it is literally the only on-screen proof we have that Candy Man isn’t just a figment of Helen’s imagination. Candy Man, like my most favourite horror film, The Shining, begs the question: Are there really supernatural elements at play here, or is the main character simply going insane? Phew, this was more than I planned to write, but I guess this film is complex enough to warrant it. See it for yourself.

Final Destination (2000)

As time wore on, the Final Destination franchise became more well-known for its gruesome deaths (and tired plot) than anything else, but the first addition was a fresh take on the inescapability of death, and the vengance Death Itself may take if you screw with his Design. The first 15 minutes of the film are truly thrilling through the main character Alex’s premonition, and the wait after the gang have been kicked off the airline for the plane to blow up without them on board. Seriously, that scene gave me aerophobia more than any Air Crash Investigation episode. What follows are some truly twisted, macabre domino-like deaths that prove that Death has a wicked, dark sense of humour. That every character in this franchise dies eventually is kind of disappointing, and definitely places Death in this franchise as possibly the most diabolical villain in all of the horror genre (move over, Jason and Michael and Freddy). The mysterious undertaker played with delightful maliciousness again by Tony Todd adds to the mystery of understanding Death’s Design. and the reality that no matter what the survivors do, Death will eventually come for them, really adds to the overall hopelessness and nihilism of the whole situation. The way that the last film of the Final Destination franchise, which is really a prequel to the first film, rounded out the franchise really well, and provided a twist as good as the original film was epic. If you are going to watch any of the films in this franchise, I cannot recommend the first and last film enough.

Now and Then (1996)

I love this film more for the cheesy, feel-good memories of my childhood it gives me. Christina Ricci is also one of my all-time favourite actresses (I absolutely loved her as Wednesday Addams), which just bolsters this movie in my eyes. Thora Birch does a good job as well. But seriously, I can pop this movie on any time and it’ll just make me instantly happy for a simpler era. Even if I wasn’t born in the 60′s or 70′s, there is a lot to relate to about bridging the gaps between childhood and the inevitable teen cross-over. I mean, who didn’t have seances in graveyards with their friends as a 12-year-old girl? No-one?! Just me then. OK. Ahem. I think my favourite character was hands-down Gabby Hoffman’s Sam, who is trying to cope with her parent’s divorce in a town and time when divorce is unheard of. I like that her grown-up character played by Demi Moore is a successful writer, and is also the narrator of the entire movie. If you want to watch a truly feel-good movie that promotes feminist ideals, this movie is for you.

IT: Chapter One (2017)

Since I watched the 1990 TV miniseries in 1992 at the tender age of 7 (my parents never monitored what I watched - which sometimes led to some gnarly nightmares), I have been waiting for a worthy remake. I, like most of the aficionados that watched the miniseries, loved Tim Curry’s rendition of the demonic entity of IT, but weren’t quite happy about the spider ending. If you’ve seen it, you know what I mean. You may be asking why I haven’t included Chapter Two that came out this year (2019), and the reason is, despite Bill Hader’s wonderful performance as the grown-up Ritchie, a cameo by Stephen King himself, and more screen-time for Bill Skarsgaard’s scary clown, the ending here was also disappointing. IT’s true form just doesn’t seem to translate well onto screen. It was adequate. Meh. Anywho.

IT Chapter One, however, is awesome. Instead of jumping back-and-forth in time like both the mini-series and the book did, it focuses on the well-acted ‘Loser’s Club’ as kids, and is truly scary like this story should be. The bully Henry Bowers is truly sociopathic, and Bill Skarsgaard as IT truly nails the fact that IT is so much more than just a killer clown. The death scene with Georgie at the beginning of the film is quite subversive and daring, as it actually shows you the death of a child in all its gory detail. My verdict? Watch the first with gusto, but do not expect anything great from Part Two. Part Two has to exist for continuity, but the first film outshines the second installment in every way possible.

Lady Bird (2017)

For an Indie sleeper film, this story is fantastic as both a coming-of-age film and a depiction of separating from your parents and becoming your own person. Ladybird’s mum is overprotective, and Ladybird needs to break free, whilst also trying not to cause a permanent rift. She’s a different kind of gal, sensitive, intelligent, artistic, and so not meant for a dead-end small town. Her transition toward independence is extremely relatable to me, as I grew up with an over-bearing, interfering mother myself. Also, it’s set in 2002, the year I graduated, with adds to my feelings of nostalgia. It’s the relatablity of Ladybird that makes it so re-watchable to me. I grew up in a dead-end town, was creative and different to my peers, and went to a fancy private school that I didn’t fit into as well. So Ladybird is a cinematic delight as you see her progress to something more hopeful in the future. A must-watch.

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newamericanaroleplay · 4 years

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“Loneliness is the fire she holds close to her skin, to see how long she can survive without running to the water.”

N A M E → sarabeth walton-rowe

S T A T U S → ★★★

A G E → 29

P R O N O U N S → female / she/her

N E I G H B O R H O O D → Upper East Side

O C C U P A T I O N → ceo of walton-rowe inc. / ceo of ophelia by walton-rowe / investor at the sullinger group luxury hotels and resort

TRIGGERS: death, plane crash, depression, survivor’s guilt

P A S T →

sarabeth’s life is filled with a lot of shiny things. from the silver that is constantly polished, marble banisters that always have a certain glint to them, the chandeliers that always seem to dance in the light, and the most important one of all: the diamonds. the walton-rowe ltd. is a huge player in the mining business; be it oil, ores containing copper, silver, and gold, and at the core center of the business itself is the diamond. the most prominent product of walton-rowe’s mines.

it all started when henry rowe, a british businessman, founded rowe mining corporation in the 1800s, becoming one of the major owners of diamond mines such as the de beers, rowe mining’s major competitor and the parameter of all diamond companies in the future are measured. the companies were competing healthily and both continued to become a billion-dollar company until the great depression hit. while an advertising campaign saved the de beers from destitute, a marriage was what saved the rowe mining co.

abraham rowe and margaret walton’s marriage brought upon the strongest joint venture in history, the merge between rowe mining co. and john walton inc, creating walton-rowe ltd. john walton inc. was a mining company whose focus was to mine for ores containing copper, silver, and gold and they also had oil drilling mines across the world. john walton inc. funded the entire operations of rowe mining’s diamond ventures, who was also benefited by piggybacking the de beer’s advertising campaign and abraham and margaret’s own brilliant strategic business planning. now, diamonds are the main venture for walton-rowe ltd.’s business.

reginald walton-rowe is the sole heir of the company. reginald was not the typical rich boy whose face would appear in tabloids every week with a girl by his side. he did everything right; graduated summa cum laude from wharton business school, earned his mba in stanford with a 4.0 gpa, took on the family business right after university, and have stayed away from being featured in sleazy tabloids looking to build controversies around him, because his life was clean from the common rich bachelor vices such as women, booze, drugs, gambling, and more.

his entire life changed when he met ophelia, however. a spontaneous, smart, and ambitious jet-setting heiress of the american luxury hotel and resorts company, the sullinger group. she had many connections and friends across the globe; some tabloids even reported a boyfriend in each continent for every time she visits, but whether that was true or not remained unknown by the public. while reginald had his entire life planned, ophelia was the type to roll with the punches, going with where life leads her and improvise to achieve her ambitions. she brought a whole new meaning to reginald’s carefully-planned life, essentially throwing his manual out the window and showing him a whole new world.

the couple were married in an extravagant wedding in lake como, italy. a few years later, they were gifted with a beautiful baby girl, sarabeth orla cordelia walton-rowe. but pregnancy was not the easiest thing that ophelia went through. ophelia had two miscarriages before they finally had sarabeth, and even then the journey was rough; it started with an increasingly tough phase of morning sickness to the point that ophelia was barely able to keep anything down so she had to be injected with an iv every other week. then, she was bedridden for the entire last trimester of the pregnancy, she had to undergo an emergency c-section, and recovery was a tough road. this added to the love ophelia and reginald had for their only daughter.

reginald and ophelia walton-rowe’s whole world revolved around sarabeth. she entered the best schools, had the best tutors, and was allowed to explore any hobby she liked. piano, painting, ballet, gymnastics, violin, and even origami for a few months. sarabeth was allowed to take a fashion course after school when she was sixteen for an entire year and then interned for vogue when she was seventeen.

sarabeth acquired many skills in her pocket, but her true calling was becoming a businesswoman just like her mother and her father. sarabeth had a knack for business; able to sell whatever products was given her way, and she was able to build connections and she had a lot of friends. a lot of people were jealous, of course, of the girl who was spoiled even more than british royalty.

every holiday, sarabeth would go to a different country and bring home many interesting stories of skiing at the alps or staying in a yacht in the french riviera, getting to take a photo with the winner of the monaco grand prix, and more. every fashion season, sarabeth would own pieces even before they were available in store, even had haute couture pieces designed just for her. she was a regular attendee of fashion weeks ever since she turned twenty-one.

like her father, she graduated magna cum laude from wharton business school and an mba at harvard. she had ambitions and goals, and she worked hard to achieve them. but, like her mother, sarabeth was spontaneous and gregarious. she had friends from all over the world with various occupations––actors, models, businesswomen, businessmen, lawyers, hoteliers, even doctors. life was perfect for sarabeth. even a pimple was a rare issue for the girl, not that it does not happen.

that was until three years ago, when a plane crash on their private jet killed both her parents on way back from london to new york for christmas. sarabeth was not on the plane with them, although she was supposed to be. sarabeth was in paris for fashion week, of which she was a regular attendee. but after one of her best friends went to labor early, the socialite decided to stay another day instead of joining her parents in london, and would fly back to new york on her own. she was supposed to be in the flight that killed her parents.

she was about to board the private jet when she heard of the tragedy. her security detail escorted her back to the hotel, where sarabeth spent the next five days as search parties tried to recover her parents’ remains. the funeral and the wake went by quickly, and although sarabeth managed the best possible smile she could for the guests, every single person there knew that a part of her died along with her parents.

the will-reading came after that. the whole walton-rowe and sullinger family came to the event––ophelia’s siblings and reginald’s cousins mainly––anticipating that they will get a share of what reginald and ophelia had. alas, the entire ownership of walton-rowe’s estate, money, investments, and the walton-rowe company was left to their only daughter, even forty percent of the walton-rowe’s share of the sullinger group, making sarabeth the owner of the largest share of the company.

this created the classic family feud over money. all of them aimed their deadly stares at the girl they thought was just another pretty blonde girl who knows nothing about running a business as large as walton-rowe and the sullinger group. sarabeth was bombarded with aunts and uncles who tried to make her renounce the inheritance, insensitive of her grief. that was when randolph walton-rowe, sarabeth’s grandfather who decided to return from retirement and come to new york all the way from london, stepped in. keeping sarabeth’s aunts, uncles, and cousins who craved for the inheritance at bay, allowing sarabeth to run away to paris, the city she found solace in when she heard of her parents’ death.

for an entire year, the girl stayed in the penthouse at george v and avoided every part of the family’s drama. she found the time to deal with her own grief, depression, and the most painful one of all, the survivor’s guilt.

sarabeth attended therapy sessions, did exercises, hung out more with her friends as per her therapist’s prescriptions, and even tried to be more involved in the company she was supposed to be running. one year later, sarabeth was able to not cry every time she was alone, but she also knew that sitting around at her house and going out on brunches or parties would not help. as long as her mind is not preoccupied, it allows the memory of her parents and the guilt she felt to creep back in to her mind. she was not going to let that happen. that was how she decided that she needed to get back to the states.

sarabeth needed to run her empire, to prove the people who underestimated her wrong, but most importantly, she wanted nothing more than to get her original stride back. she wanted to work, to do something with her life instead of just laying around feeling miserable and wasting time.

it has been two years since sarabeth first came back to the states and started to become more involved in the legacy her parents left her. sarabeth had focused more on walton-rowe when she returned; after all, the company was left without a ceo. she focused on restructuring the company, eliminating personnels she knew to have no good intentions, people her father had always wanted to eliminate. she recruited a number of young people into her team, people who bring a new perspective into the company who desperately needed to approach the business world in a new light––a light where businesses need to keep up with the ever-growing and ever-changing trends of the world––and a fresh new perspective.

P R E S E N T →

it started with sarabeth realizing that walton-rowe needed a face to connect with the people who bought their diamonds. of course, ever since it started, walton-rowe had always been a supplier of diamonds to large jewelry stores such as harry winston, tiffany & co., and cartier. it exclusively collaborated with renowned jewelers for the people who are willing to pay more for a custom-designed piece of jewelry exclusively from the walton-rowe house. but sarabeth knew that simply making exclusive collections for people who can afford it is not enough to ensure that walton-rowe will remain a powerful game-changer in the business––and the only way to do that is for their brand to have a face––to allow not just the rich 1% of the world’s population be able to afford their diamonds, but anyone who can afford the most beautiful declaration of love.

sarabeth opened walton-rowe’s first flagship jewelry boutique on fifth avenue called ophelia by walton-rowe, with customers pouring in to take in the beautiful collection that has been advertised and teased for months. sales continued to skyrocket, with celebrities becoming the face of the advertisement and the brand ambassadors. even with prices given at a discount, and random lucky customers treated into getting a jewelry more than their budget, letting the fame of the new walton-rowe jewels to spread like wildfire through word-of-mouth and of course through the digital world, the most effective method of advertisement today.

however, even with ophelia gaining so much popularity, the scrutiny sarabeth continued to heighten; either jealousy or the fact that they are in denial that the young businesswoman was actually capable, but either way they continued to undermine sarabeth’s ability––blinded by her age, her lack of experience, and maybe even her gender.

but the excitement of the new venture is not the only thing keeping sarabeth busy. new developments have emerged from her parents’ plane crash to prove that it was not an accident at all. evidence suggests that her parents’ planes were rigged to plummet the way it did. recordings from the black box that was finally discovered indicated that the pilots knew the private jet was rigged as soon as the whole system started to break down.

with her inheritance and the connections she has, sarabeth hired a private investigator to help the fbi with the case that would crack the mystery of who was behind the death of her parents and ensured that everything is kept in secret; only between her, her security detail, and the fbi. her heart was set to find the people responsible and make sure the receive the consequences.

P E R S O N A L I T Y →

+ articulate, diligent, loyal, intuitive

– detached, spoiled, impatient, perfectionist

SARABETH WALTON-ROWE (Lily James) is written by DELLAZIA (she/her→ gmt+7)

#sarabeth #lily james #town rp #town rpg #city rpg #fame rpg #bio

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mythicallore · 5 years

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The Black Monk

Hauntings and poltergeist acitvity are nothing new, and the lore of paranormal research holds countless examples. Yet, every once in a while a case will truly bubble up from the rest to present an extremely strange and strong account. Lying within the country of England is an unassuming, normal looking house, which nevertheless has managed to go on to accrue a reputation as one of the most haunted locations in the nation. Here at this abode we have a rather volatile, frightening, and violent entity that has come to be known as the Black Monk.

The year was 1966, and a family consisting of Jean and Joe Pritchard and their two children, Phillip, 15, and Diane, 12, moved into a quiet house on 30 East Drive, in Pontefract, West Yorkshire, England. It was not long after they had settled in that strange things began to happen around the home, starting, as these things tend to, rather innocently enough. The first main incident started on September 1, 1966, when the son Philip was staying at the home with his grandmother, Sarah Scholes, while the rest of the family was away on a trip to Devon. One day they they felt a strange gust of cold wind pass through despite the summer heat, shortly after which they witnessed what seemed to be a white powder or mist snowing down from the ceiling as the sounds of footsteps echoed from above. When they went to investigate, along with Scholes’ sister Marie Kelley, there were found to be inexplicable pools of water spreading on the floor of the kitchen, and even as they stared at this new development that bumping noise continued from the next floor up and that dust rained down upon them.

30 East Drive

At the time it was thought that the water was merely the result of a broken pipe, and a repairman from the water company was called in to take a look. However, after a thorough inspection of the kitchen there was found to be no sign of anything amiss, and the repairman had no idea of where the water could be coming from, even as it seemed to pool up even more as he was there. The pools would eventually stop, but everyone present was left completely baffled as to what was going on.

Later that same evening, the pools began to form again from nowhere, and this time this phenomenon was joined by a violent, jolting rattling of various cutlery and pots and pans around the kitchen. In addition to this, the whole area was sprayed with tea as some unseen force repeatedly depressed the button on the tea dispenser with great force and increasing speed. The cupboards and furniture of the kitchen also began to vibrate and move about without explanation or apparent cause. This was all followed by a thunderous bang from the outside hallway, but when they looked to see what it could be nothing was there, even though the hallway light began to turn on and off by itself even as they surveyed it. It was further noticed that a plant that was normally positioned at the foot of the stairs was now inexplicably sitting at the top of the stairs, and neither of them had moved it.

As they examined the hall, the crockery and cupboards in the kitchen began to vibrate again with greater vigor, and Kelley was once again brought over to observe the frightening show for herself. The activity once again died down, but when a heavy chest of drawers began to sway on its own volition later that night, both Philip and his grandmother packed a few things and headed to a neighbor’s house for the night, terrified of what was going on. Interestingly, by the time the rest of the family returned from their trip the strange phenomena seemed to have stopped. At the time they all thought that there had to be some normal explanation for what had happened, especially as there were no further disturbances. Indeed, it would not be for another 2 years that anything else out of the ordinary would happen on the premises, but when it did it did so with a vengeance.

Interior of the house

The long period of silence made it all the more shocking when pools of water started forming again all over the house, furniture was moved or rattled on its own, odd green foam would seep out of water taps, loud thuds and bangs would sound out from all over the house, doors would slam open or shut by themselves, and more ominously, family portraits and furniture would be found demolished or slashed and disfigured as with a knife. There were also unidentified sickening odors that would waft through the home, as well as anomalous noises including heaving breathing and, oddly, the sound of barnyard animals. Such things happened nearly everyday, and it all became so commonplace that the family took to calling the invisible entity “Fred,” putting an innocuous nickname to the faceless and gradually threatening intruder.

All of this steadily graduated in intensity, with things being smashed or broken by unseen hands, or objects flying across the room even in the presence of guests. Indeed, whenever people came over the phenomena seemed to actually get worse and more violent, and this apparently even happened in the presence of local police officers and the town vicar, leaving everyone dumbfounded and authorities unable to find any rational explanation. In particular Dianne seemed to be targeted, often waking up to the sound of heavy breathing or undefined voices in her ears, and there were times when she was allegedly downright physically assaulted by the entity, such as being pushed, having her hair pulled, and even on several occasions being dragged across the room. The entity was not above lashing out at others as well, and reports of being held down, pushed, slapped, or punched by the specter were common, even from those just visiting.

The phenomena seemed to work in cycles, with times when this would happen on a daily basis interspersed with long absences, sometimes for weeks at a time, but return it always did. In the face of the escalating malevolent activity, the Pritchard family reached out to the Church for help, and there were several exorcisms performed on the house, all of which seemed to just make the spirit even angrier. During these attempted exorcisms crucifixes were supposedly knocked out of hands or smashed to pieces, and inverted crosses were sometimes found painted or scrawled upon the walls in red and black ink, neither of which were kept in the house. In one particularly frightening incident an invisible force picked up a candlestick and held it in front of the priest’s face, which was enough to send the man of the cloth running away to never come back.

In addition to this, the malicious spirit began to make itself known and visible as a full apparition. At first these visitations took the form of Jean and Joe waking in the middle of the night to see a dark shape standing at the foot of their bed staring at them, which would then blink out of existence. On another occasion, Joe claimed to have awoken to see a figure in flowing black robes hovering over his bed. This strange entity was more often than not described this way, as dressed in black robes and with a hood covering his face, not unlike what a medieval monk might wear and which would earn the wraith the nickname “The Black Monk.”

Before long the Black Monk was seen lurking about by everyone in the family, and was even claimed to have been spotted prowling the property by neighbors and other locals. To make it all even creepier, the phantom would sometimes change things up by appearing wearing women’s fur gloves. Through this all it seemed to still have it in for the daughter Diane, and its attacks on her grew in ferocity. The girl would sometimes wake up with scratches and bruises on her body or be completely thrown from her bed, and on at least one occasion was actively choked and slapped around by an unseen force in full view of witnesses, who were often themselves not immune to these outbursts. Perhaps the scariest incident happened when Diane’s hair was seen to stand up as if someone were pulling and yanking on it, after which the girl was forcefully dragged up the stairs screaming.

The desperate family had paranormal investigators called in, and some interesting things were found out on the history of the land the house sat upon. For instance, investigator Tom Cuniff found that not only had the area once been the site of a battle, but also that it had once been used as the town gallows, and that hundreds of people had been executed here. In particular, there was supposedly a Cluniac monk who had met his end by hanging here, after being found guilty of raping and killing a young girl around Diane’s age back in the 16th century, and Cuniff believed that this was the spirit haunting the home.

Strangely, despite all of the intense paranormal activity that permeated this home, it would all one day suddenly cease just as abruptly as it had started. The weeks would go on with the family bracing for the Black Monk to rear his sinister head yet again, but it was completely quiet for no apparent reason, as if he had just gotten bored and stopped. The Pritchards would nevertheless eventually move out, and the house would go on to be a popular destination for paranormal investigators, several of whom would apparently uncover the fact that indeed the Black Monk was still around and as active as ever, perhaps perturbed by new trespassers to his domain.

A very well-known and harrowing investigation of the premises was carried out by seasoned paranormal researchers Nick Groff and Katrina Weidman, of the TV series Paranormal Lockdown, who recklessly decided to actually spend a few days locked up inside of the home, and almost as soon as the doors closed there were purportedly strange goings on. It started with a sense of an indefinable dread and a door being slammed shut almost immediately, which could have been attributed to a draft if it weren’t for what would transpire over the next 100 hours. Groff would say of his initial impression of the house thus:

Right when we stepped on the property it felt different. There’s an energy about it. When you take a step into that location it’s haunting, it really is, without anything really even occurring you just feel it, you feel the energy and the sense that something is there lurking in the shadows.

They would go on to be woken by slamming or banging noises in the house, and the next day they actually reached out to the entity, called it Fred, and asked if it would move a ball. Sure enough, the ball apparently began rolling across the floor of its own volition. It all almost seemed rather playful at first, but then things started to get knocked off of stands, thrown across the room, or broken, and a clock dropped off the wall. When Groff reached out to ask the spirit “Do you need a lot of energy [to move things]?,” it was captured in an EVP recording saying in Latin “desperata,” meaning “hopeless.”

On top of this, whenever the team asked the entity something it would remain silent, but the room temperature would drop dramatically. In addition, a shadowy figure was allegedly filmed moving across a room, and the nighttime noises occurred with increased amplification. To make it all even more menacing, a knife was inexplicably left on the stairs, and the crew began to complain of being pushed or shoved by something, with the co-host Katrina actually claiming to have been held in place, attacked, and scratched. Groff would say:

We’ve captured this solid figure moving past one of the doors, things moving on their own. My co-host Katrina, she got scratched too at one point so it got really scary as it escalated through our investigation of a hundred hours. When I was living there for 100 hours there were moments when I was terrified, like when I was sleeping and I was really deep in sleep. And anybody, I don’t care how strong you are or how big you are, you will be startled in the darkness, and you’re all alone, and something bangs really loud in the room and the door opens on its own, and you see an apparition – you’re going to get startled.

Other researchers have had similarly bizarre experiences on the property, with numerous instances of the ghost’s voice caught on tape and quite a few pieces of photographic evidence as well. Many of these investigators have expressed shock at the sheer magnitude of sinister paranormal activity at the residence, with some even claiming that they actually feared for their lives while there, and the Black Monk has earned a reputation for being one of the most violent and evil poltergeists around. Another pair of investigators from the TV show Ghost Dimension said:

When we arrived at the house I had been so excited to finally be filming at 30 East Drive. I had heard so many stories about what went on here through the 60s and seen so many photos of monk-like figures. We had never experienced so many paranormal happenings going in one place and in such quick succession.

The house itself was purchased by a man named Phillip Pritchard and later sold to the British advertiser and film producer Bil Bungay, who turned it into a sort of macabre tourist destination. He would later have the story made into the 2012 horror film When The Lights Go Out, directed by Pat Holden, and which is loosely based on the real events. The film crew apparently had quite a few paranormal experiences making the movie, which was supposedly partly filmed on location, and to this day it has remained a hotspot for debate, discussion, and investigation.

There have of course been plenty of allegations that this was all a hoax or a publicity stunt, and that there was never any haunting at all. However, this ignores the fact that the whole town knew of this haunting, and it was witnessed by numerous people, including neighbors, friends, police officers, and at least two priests. So concentrated was the haunting and so violent, that the case of the Black Monk of Pontefract has gone on to become one of the most well-documented and aggressive hauntings England has ever seen, with the house this day said to be ground zero for all manner of strange happenings. Whatever is going on here, be that an expansive hoax or a very angry and vehement spirit, the case has never been solved.

#black monk #paranormal #supernatural

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renegaderoots · 6 years

Photo

BASIC INFORMATION

☠┋FULL NAME: Avery J. Williams ☠┋PRONUNCIATION: A-vree ☠┋NICKNAME(S): Avy, Av, AJ ☠┋TITLE: The Sleepwalker ☠┋OCCUPATION: Drug dealer ( see also: fortune teller, singer, waiter) ☠┋~AGE: 18-28. Plot dependent. ☠┋DATE OF BIRTH: 23rd October ☠┋GENDER: Cisgender ☠┋PRONOUNS: He/Him/His ☠┋ORIENTATION: Homoromantic Homosexual ☠┋NATIONALITY: English ☠┋RELIGION: Christian ☠┋SPECIES: Human ☠┋THREAT LEVEL: Moderate (not malicious, sometimes violent, defensive and aggressive)

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

☠┋FACE CLAIM: Andy Biersack / Ash Stymest ☠┋EYE COLOUR: Light-blue ☠┋HAIR COLOUR: Naturally ginger but dyes it black ☠┋DOMINANT HAND: Right ☠┋HEIGHT: 5’4 or 162 centimeters ☠┋WEIGHT: 48 kg. ☠┋TATTOOS: He is literally a tattoo landscape, so describing his ink collection would take an entire century, but the roses on his hands are most notable along with a quote from Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf circling around his collarbone. ☠┋SCARS: The most notable ones along with a constellation of burns are on his upper back, though there are other scarred areas as well. Most were souvenirs from an accident whereas others were self-inflicted. ☠┋PIERCINGS: one lip piercing, one nose ring ( usually wears studs), several ear piercings (Industrial, conch, auricle, upper lobe, helix, tragus, graduate lobe, smiley – honestly just ask me what part of his body isn’t pierced and we can all go home sooner) ☠┋GLASSES: Avery doesn’t need glasses.

PSYCHOLOGY INFORMATION

☠┋JUNG TYPE: INFJ ☠┋SUBTYPE: Intuitive Subtype ☠┋ENNEATYPE: 6w5 SX/SP ☠┋MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral ☠┋TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic/Choleric ☠┋SCHEMA: (NP) Negativity/Pessimism, (MA) Mistrust/Abuse, (EP) Emotional Deprivation (form C)

☠ ┋INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Visual/Spatial Intelligence

☠┋~IQ: 110 ☠┋NEUROTYPE: Definitely not neurotypical. ☠┋AT RISK? Possibly, although I can’t say for sure at this conjuncture. Likely depression, insomnia and Biploar Disorder II, as there’s a genetic predisposition on the maternal side of his family (his great-grandma had it, along with his mother.)

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

☠┋HOMETOWN: Dartford, England, though he was born in Boston. ☠┋CURRENT: Visual-Spatial Intelligence, Intrapersonal Intelligence, Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence ☠┋LANGUAGE(S): English ( native language), German ☠┋SOCIAL CLASS: working class ☠┋EDUCATIONAL LEVEL: GCSE ☠┋PARENT #1: John Williams ☠┋PARENT #2: Allison (Alisa) Williams neé Little (Klein) ☠┋SIBLING(S): Samantha Williams, 24, alive, estranged

☠┋MAIN SHIP: I ship Avery with stability and getting his shit together. ☠┋RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single ☠┋CHILDREN: None

☠┋PET(S): Pet rats called Muffin, Sugar and Berry. ☠┋ADOPTED? No. ☠┋RAP SHEET? Surprisingly not, no. ☠┋PRISON TIME? No.

VICES / HABITS

☠┋SMOKES? Yes. He’s a chain smoker, in fact. ☠┋DRINKS? Yes, excessively. Might’ve developed an addiction, though it’s unsure to know for certain as this conjuncture. ☠┋DOES DRUGS? Only soft drugs. ☠┋IS VIOLENT? Yes, he is. Avery’s type of violence is most often just on one level, namely the physical one. Unafraid to mess up somebody’s face twice his size, he’ll do so if and when he feels threatened – or, alternatively, when he really doesn’t like you. It’s not necessarily that he’s pone to violence, nor is he quick to hit and punch without first weighing the consequences, but it does happen. Only on rare occasions such as intimate settings is he emotionally violent if fearing abandonment.

☠┋HAS AN ADDICTION? Possibly. Alcoholism. ☠┋IS SELF-DESTRUCTIVE? Yes. Self-harm (among which multiple suicide attempts number. Most frequently, these patterns are implemented through cutting, burning or scratching), habitual lying and high-risk reckless behavior along with excessive promiscuity. ☠┋HABITS: swearing, smoking, cracking knuckles, a sweet tooth that’ll probably rot his teeth down to nothing one day, picking at nail polish, habitual lying, procrastination to the highest level imaginable, forgetting names of people (mostly because he doesn’t bother to remember them in the first place), purposefully argumentative, double-checks everything more often than Nolan (which is an accomplishment in and of itself bordering on obsessive), bites fingernails, snarls for no, grunts for yes and shrugs his shoulders for maybe (not the most communicative sort, obviously), drinks energy drinks and sugary stuff like water to stay away because he’s close to mortified by sleeping or the process of falling asleep (three to four hours of light sleep tops), leave him alone for a while and chances are he’ll have been playing with whatever object is in front of him for many minutes already, will use movie references to retro movies nobody knows (except maybe movie nerds themselves) when around somebody he can tolerate

☠┋HOBBIES: customizing his own clothing, drawing, sleeping in late, organizing everything to a T, cleaning, woodwork, collecting used up pencil stumps, skateboarding, street painting, collecting bibles without any attention to read through them, reading psychology books ☠┋TICS: none

☠┋OBSESSION(S): Avery is downright obsessed with establishing a thoroughly organized system and often can’t resist eliminating any and all ounce of disorder either in his flat or at the shop. He also has a great aversion towards unclean people and therefore spends a lot of time in the bathroom washing his hands. ☠┋COMPULSION(S): hoarding

MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION

☠┋HOUSE: Slytherin ☠┋VICE: Wrath ☠┋VIRTUE: Kindness ☠┋ELEMENT: Air

☠┋ANGEL: Gabriel

☠┋MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURE: Sirens

☠┋ANIMAL: Scorpion

☠┋MUTATION: Invisibility, Air manipulation ☠┋WOULD SURVIVE POST-APOC? Yes.

STATUS INFORMATION

☠┋DEVELOPMENT: Developed ☠┋SHIPPING: Multiship ☠┋VERSE: Multiverse ☠┋VERSE TYPE: realism, magical realism, crime

☠┋CANON: His tattoo shop verse. ☠┋PLOTTING: Open ☠┋CREATION DATE: May 2014

CHARACTER SUMMARY

If you think you’ll encounter an angel because you’ve judged him by his looks alone, you will be deeply disappointed. In lieu of sweet tunes, you’ll get an earful of pirate-like swearing, profanity, and absolutely no filters. For better or worse, Avery is honest - sometimes brutally so - and doesn’t know the first thing about propriety. His morals are his pillars despite the dysfunctional mess that is his past; however, his own integrity is merciless and predominantly black or white. Regardless, you shouldn’t mistake him for level-headed or even cerebral; Avery is a complicated, contradictory clusterfuck of a person --- all white-knuckled protests aside, he is a very emotional lad, prone to anger issues, and an even poorer developed impulse control.

As somebody who became homeless when still a minor, Avery is no stranger to the ends to which some had to go in order to survive. He might not be gallant, buoyant or even very talkative, but he is humble, charitable and noticeably protective over those who have no means of defense. Nowadays, Avery stays afloat working odd jobs, the most notably one being his position as a drug dealer for the Morrison family. Beyond that, his ability to ascertain how full of shit people are has proved rather lucrative, too. In the end, he has been through too much, has seen too much and heard too much to be fazed by humanity’s depravity anymore, and thereby doesn’t dare reach for the stars. He still lives in an abusive home mentally sitting at disconcertingly silent dinner tables, and making tired excuses for angry welts under layers for him to have any motivation other than to simply sleepwalk through life.

APPEARANCE DESCRIPTION

Swinging calloused fists, throwing uncouth threats left and right…at the imposing height of 5’4. Although Avery will still feed you your teeth if you reckon it’s cute to call him pipsqueak or any other derogatory remark as to his height, he has come to think of his lanky, tiny, and largely androgynous appearance as an advantage. Looks can deceive, his in particular, because if there’s anything he’s not, it’s helpless. Be that as it may, there are self-image issues along with a deeply-seated insecurity at play regarding his physique, and overall gentle aura, which he contrasts with a collection of tattoos. For attentive listeners, you will hear a mostly Bostoner accent mixed with a faint German undertone while his voice is deep, masculine, and has a raspy current to it. It is not a shock, though, that Avery’s demeanour doesn’t exactly inspire pedestrians to chat him up at a park. As for clothes: just be on the lookout for a scowling, tiny lad in black from head to toe.

PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION

Contrary to his cantankerous tunes, Avery knows when words of thanks are in order, and he is not at all too prideful to express his gratitude. Anything you give him freely, whether time, trust, or tears is valuable to him. Generally speaking, however, he is best described as being of a melancholic-choleric temperament, a man of few words but decidedly strong convictions who won’t hesitate to play devil’s advocate in order to call you out on your own hypocrisy. What he isn’t, though is deceiving because honesty is an integral part of his belief system; the engine without which the machine would come to a complete standstill. What’s most important to note about his general disposition, additionally, is how much of a duality Avery can be. Endearing at times, and then downright base. This boils down to his anxiety frequently expressed through rage, and insecurity. Ambivalent doesn’t even begin to cover how his personality oscillates between aggressive and dependent absolutes. As enigmatic as he is towards others and himself, though, there’s nothing uncertain about the fact that he is secretly an idealist in a misanthropic realist’s clothing. He wants to believe only the best in people, but also knows when there’s nothing to be done other than to turn some away. In the same vein, Avery struggles with emotional expression – full stop. Due to trauma, genetic factors, and environmental influences, trust is nearly an impossible feat for him; that goes both ways: towards others and himself, thus, while fiercely instinctive, it requires a game guide to unlock personal dialogue, resulting in suspicion and rebellious behaviour to cover up the fear of abandonment.

SKILLS / COMPETENCES

By general standards, Avery’s academic gap in his CV doesn’t speak well for his skills or competences, as one would be quick to presume he’s got none at all, which isn’t true. Regardless of having only done the utmost necessary before dropping out of school, he’s not a monolingual. Since his mother has German roots, their household was bilingual, with English being the primary language in their earlier developmental stages, and German introduced at around six to eight years old respectively. His level of proficiency is high in both languages, making him bilingual despite no linguistic talent or inclination to broaden his horizon. There’s also something to note about his dexterity, for his hands aren’t only his most important tools in his career. Indeed, most of his hobbies revolve around crafting or creating something – woodwork being one example. He is also, perforce, an amazing cook and is known to hand out free food to friends who are, unfortunately, still homeless. What’s more, he has been blessed with an impeccable singing voice --- hard, soft, raspy currents like ripples in a river. Up until middle school, too, Avery used to participate in competitive running marathons, along with a penchant for precarious hobbies like skateboarding and parkour, the latter of which he gave up after too many unsuccessful attempts and stays in the hospital. Lastly, and this is vital, he has a natural gift for reading others; he is not easily deceived.

INTERPERSONAL MANNER

How Avery approaches you or comes across is entirely dependent on you – because when he smells bullshit or feels in any way lied to, threatened or manipulated, you’ll encounter his belligerent, patronizing and stubbornly righteous side. If you’re straightforward with your intentions, Avery is more likely to warm and loosen up around you. All in all, he is easy to like, but hardly few really know him. Since his family is a subject best not breached and linked to survivor’s guilt, Avery, for now, is on his own, excluding Lin, Trish, and Síle. Sometimes, even, the lad refers to his own room as a coffin. Unsurprisingly, his sexual relations are strictly physical, and any romantic interest is generally suppressed. If he were actively searching, however, Avery would best respond to unabashedly frank men who are assertive or creative – physically, he likes his men tall, muscular, preferably inked, and not afraid to straight up ask him to fuck. Moreover, given his demons, Avery works very hard to keep the shreds of stability he has in his life, which is why you will not hear him argue unless it’s something he categorizes as fundamentally wrong; he absolutely detests screaming or raised voices.

Additional notes:

His voice claim is the same, i.e. Andy. Is anyone surprised?

Frequently lewd and downright tactless towards men, which is not reminiscent of his bad flirting skills but rather an indicator to please leave him the fuck alone.

Sugary sweets as bribery? 100% effective

Drinks an unhealthy amount of energy drinks to doze rather to deeply fall asleep because the feeling of falling asleep makes him incredibly anxious - night terrors are common.

Listens to bad German punk band and dub step. Definitely don’t allow him to play his music should he ever be in your car lest you’ll suffer profusely.

Has the almost compulsive need to play with items directly in front of him.

His younger sister detests him for walking out on her and leaving her with an alcoholic, abusive dad. Years prior, their mother left one day and never returned. She hopes he’s dead in a ditch.

His relationship with religion is...complicated, to make use of a gross understatement as his family were zealots who only accepted their truth as the way to live. Consequently, Avery also has self-image issues and low self-esteem.

He feels more comfortable and considerably safer around women as far as platonic relationships go, and has an easier time opening up to them.

Natural ginger. Heat and Avery? Not a good mix.

Smells faintly of turpentine oil and citrus-scented utensils for cleaning because he is a neat freak.

Do not allow him anywhere near paper because he will doodle on anything.

Utilizes his art as a means to express himself emotionally.

#profile;Avery #abuse mention tw #my son is finally home i am CRYING

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castawxayaway · 6 years

Text

afraid to admit

requested by an anon earlier this evening, kind of got my motivation back (hence why this is the second piece of the day.) no idea how long it’ll last, but feedback is appreciated. oh, and I know it might not be accurate, I am not a medical student.

collection of writing

also this is about a car crash so please read with caution!

Everything that night occurred in an instant. No one had time to change what happened, even if we wished the events had happened in a different order. If I hadn’t come out of the restaurant first and walked ahead, giggling with him after celebrating my graduation maybe it’d be a different story. Perhaps if he caught up with me then someone else could be lying still here. What if that driver hadn’t ruined a families life by drinking away his sorrows before attempting to pick up his children?

The events that lead me to lie lifelessly to this hospital room could have all been avoided, but sometimes things don’t work out that way. All I hear is the monotone beeping of my heart monitor, I can smell the antibacterial sprays and gels that have embedded themselves in my nostrils along with the over fragrant flowers that multiply by each passing day. But out of everything here, the one person I can’t hear, I haven’t heard since being emitted is him.

All I know is I am asleep, comatose. Yet, I can hear everything. I’ve only ever seen such a thing on TV and now I damn my past self for changing the channel, maybe they had some solution for this and how to force myself awake. It’s not an If I stay situation, I am stable from the accident but the Doctors claim it’s a waiting game until I wake up. I’m trapped, unable to move or let anyone know. I’m stuck with myself, my own thoughts which is more painful than the accident itself.

The routine since being ‘awake’ is being checked various times by different people each day. I can feel monitors being checked, my temperature being taken along with checks that tire me mentally. My family visit as often as they can, they share stories in hope of me waking up. Yesterday my Dad promised a holiday of my choice, Kyle came in and told me he’d take me to any gig I wish for. The others come in, but he can’t. Apparently, it hurts him too much, though on the surface he left the accident unscathed, emotionally it damaged him deeply knowing he couldn’t save me.

Will sits with me for an hour every few days, he keeps me updated. He likes to tell me about the news, no matter how much it bores me I enjoy his company. Today he discussed his current state, he gets as far as entering the hospital before breaking down each time. He never gets as far as asking how I am by Nurses or speaking to anyone else. The thought of him blaming himself makes my heart sink, the damages I suffer are nothing compared to the pain I feel for him thinking he is guilty. “The guy who did this is to blame. Did anyone tell you what happened to him?” Will asks, knowing he won’t get a response.

We all know what happened to the driver. The issues he caused and resolved with that accident. He broke both my legs, knocked me unconscious and risked me having brain damage. Furthermore, he crashed into another car, a Father and his two children, both under the age of five. The driver himself, who was called Robert King and was an abusive husband. He died on arrival. No one will miss him. No one cared to know he died.

“I think he is finding it easier each day,” Kyle starts, my next visit for the day. They’re all told that visitors and voices will encourage me to wake up. Though they’re unsure if I can hear anything they are all trying their hardest, no matter how stupid it may seem. “this morning he got out of bed and went for a walk. He played some piano too.” If I were awake I’d smile at the thought of him making progress. But I’m stuck and apparently, I look pained as I lie bruised and permanently scarred.

“Do you think she’ll wake up soon?” Another voice of concern, Charlie. I rarely hear him anymore, he tells me he’s been busy prepping for his own tour. He hopes I’ll be awake to see him, and knows I’ll be front row cheering him on.

A loud disheartened sigh echoes through the room, interrupting the monitors beeping for less than a second. “I don’t know mate. The doctors don’t seem to know either.” All becomes silent. No one speaks up. Usually, this is when I’d interject with a joke, lighten the mood. It’s marginally hard to do such a thing when I am the only one who can hear my voice, I have one-sided conversations with everyone who walks in. “Do you think she can hear us?”

“If she can then she’s being bloody rude not waking up.” Charlie jokes and Kyle laughs for a moment, something I’ve missed hearing. Everyone who comes in here is down, depressed or longing for me to wake up. No one comes in here to joke or brighten the spirits that wither with the flowers on my table by the window with a view I cannot see.

It’s been almost a month. At least that is what I hear them say. Outside it has become colder, snow comes and goes, but it never sticks. I can now clearly differentiate the nurses and the doctors’ voices, even by the sigh after they do their checks. I’ve heard them say I have frequent brain activity, that perhaps it’ll be any day now that I wake up. But then again, they’ve been saying that for two weeks.

“Any news from the other person involved?” One of the Nurses asks another. This is something I’ve learnt they like to do, they gossip frequently in front of me since I cannot punch them for talking about my closest friend in the way they do.

The other nurse sighs, “Nope. He hasn’t gotten past the front doors. Sometimes he tries to sit outside her room, but he doesn’t manage that. Wonder if something was happening between the two.” My heart monitor speeds up and the two go quiet. “Do you think?”

“No.” The other one quickly shuns her down for a correct suspicion. “Let’s leave her be. She needs her rest.” Internally I scoff, I’m done resting.

Another doctor visits, no changes since this morning it seems. “You have a visitor. I’ll let them in.” He never normally announces my visitors. Usually, they just come and come as they please. The longest silence is in the night when I hear those who are more emergency based be wheeled on by, sometimes I hear screams whilst everyone is fast asleep.

My door closes behind him and then I patiently wait since I have no other choice. After what feels like a good ten minutes it slowly opens, the hinges creak suggesting hesitation, but after the first week, no one has been afraid to see me. They’ve all witnessed the scratches that are healing, the scars that are kept in neat stitches and the casting across both my legs that pokes out of my blankets.

Shuffling across the streaked tiles sharpens my ears, a new sound. I can hear heavy breathing, fear. He’s here. Mentally I brush myself down, sit upright and smile at him to ease the nerves. Instead, I lie lifelessly, damaged and with pain written in my expression rather than happiness to know he’s made it.

A chair scrapes across the floor and is placed to my left, back to the door. “Hi.” He sounds tired, drained. Usually he’d smile brightly, fidget in his seat or come and hug me. But he sits too still, too quiet and is keeping a safe distance as if I’m contagious.

“No one has told me if you responded to them. Your parents hoped someone else could evoke some response from you as, as they, they,” He struggles to make his words coherent and without a quiver of his lips. Pausing I can hear him taking a deep breath, one he would take before walking on stage.

I remember his first performance. He was forced to play the piano for a local play, I was the one who encouraged him to do so, face his fears. Now he does that most days of the year, he walks on excited with adrenaline pumped through his body not thinking of the feeling that used to hold him back.

Yet, hearing him now he sounds like he did before his first performance. He’s too afraid to say or do the wrong thing. He needs me to tell him it’ll be alright. If only I could move my fingers towards his, hold his hand or nod. Anything to ease him into talking, tell me how he feels about this, anything.

“They’re hoping that I might be able to get you back.” He whispers so quietly doubting himself as he trails off. “I don’t know why. I mean, your parents have been here every day.” He continues to doubt, I can hear him arguing with himself about whether to leave or stay. “About, about that night.” I can hear the defiance trying to push through his voice.

That night. We planned it months in advance. I knew he wasn’t able to get much time off with their new tour coming up, he was in the studio most days or asleep. He wanted to do something for my graduation, a way to celebrate his best friend achieving her dream. The two of us got ready like old times, we listened to the music of our childhoods and felt out of place in a restaurant that seemed too fancy for the both of us. I felt like I was a child dressing in her Mums posh clothes. He didn’t look like himself. He styled his hair, he wore a suit and kept his glasses in the pocket and pulled them out to read the wine menu.

“We couldn’t stay there, despite the reservation.” He spoke up. “You suggested we leave, that we go for something more us.” I remember him taking his glasses and putting them back on, he told the waiter to not bother as we got up and left like giddy children.

That was when I opened the door first, I held it open for him to follow and muttered how cold it was. I watched as he paused under the streetlamps, but I turned around and began to walk ahead. “I was taking my jacket off for you, I didn’t want you to be cold.” The events that I never saw. “That was when I heard the noises, the screeching of tires and beeping.” He pauses, I can hear the pain as he recollects what happens.

All I saw was the bonnet coming straight towards me. “It went straight for you as if you were the only target. I screamed for you to move, I tried running for you but it happened in an instant. I, I thought you, you,” He can’t say it.

He thought I was dead. Everyone did.

“That night I was going, to be honest. All the stress of your dissertation and the drama that occurred with Jack was over. You were happy and I just wanted to tell you how happy that made me.” Mentally I switch on, any other noise is shut down as I listen to every word he says. I can feel his lips moving and his hands fidgeting as he digs his nails into each other. “When we were younger you always helped me face my fears, I helped you try to learn the keyboard and you encouraged me to put myself out there for my passion.”

I can hear him sniff. He’s upset, he’s struggling to say these words that I should respond to. I should be looking him deep into those blue eyes and help him through. “I disappeared for years, I missed you getting into uni and those hard months. Whenever I called you all you did was push positivity onto me, you deflected it as all you cared about was how I was.”

Those were my worst months, and I can tell those are what he is currently enduring. All I care about is how he is, I want to be there to hold his hand, but mine remain too lifeless. “You were always so strong, and I feel that I’ve failed you.” No, no. “I wanted to be here for you. I have been trying so hard. Seeing what happened to you broke my heart, seeing you so mangled and hurt broke my heart and I thought for a moment I’d never get to tell you how much I really care for you.”

His voice takes a more serious tone, I can feel his warm slightly sweaty palm take my hand in his. I feel his cool breath on top of my hand, then a warm sweet kiss before wiping it. “I don’t just care for you, I am in love with you.” My heart beat intensifies as my mind want to shut down. I want to wake up, I want to talk to him I don’t want to doubt him, I don’t want to question this or am I just dreaming?

“I know you can’t hear me. But I guess I’ll never know how you’d answer.” His hand begins to slip out of mine, but I try my hardest to hold on. My forceful words do nothing to make my hand hold his, not even a flinch. I remain too lifeless for him to even think I know he’s here. “I’ll be back soon, I promise I won’t leave you again. Goodnight.” He mutters as I hear his chair slide across the tiles.

No, he can’t leave. “Dan! Dan!” My mind screams, but nothing. He says nothing else as I hear the door close and I am left in the deafening silence of my own thoughts.

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