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quixtrix · 5 months

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rayman, eden's feel good american dream story; an analysis

guess who's back with taking ubisoft's silly guys and cutting them open. yknow, if you strip rayman of his personality, of all the behind the scenes we get of him, we get a run of the mill news reporter that is an immigrant, who by face alone serves as a shining ray of hope. he's easily something that by all means, can be classified as a diversity hire. immigrant, nonhuman (which in the world of clh can be considered to be equated with poc irl), and notably the only one in his work environment. don't believe me?

we rarely ever see anyone other than rayman on the show in the form of a coworker. the only time we do see other eden affiliated people, they are both white. "but you can't see red's face!!" there is a reason his dialogue makes you think of more right leaning people with their claims of 'wokeness is destroying everything' under something like april from tmnt being black and not ginger. he's a caricature meant to represent a specific group of people under fascism; those who have successfully consumed the fearmongering and have let it turn from fear of those that they are told are beneath them into hatred for them. there is also the fact that on live tv he throws up a middle finger, refers to an implied group of immigrant people as 'filthy interdimensional alien scum,' and seemingly gains no backlash for it. yes, the other reporter does try to give red a chance to go back on his words, but he sticks to it. and despite all of this, we get no indication that neither red nor the niji 6 had to apologise or received punishment for this. in fact, red is possibly given more chances by eden due to him being weirdly in charge of bullfrog's containment in a way? (i'm not entirely sure WHY he was there, but as he is one of eden's tv personalities, he's at a possibly televised trial of a terrorist.) now if you compare this to rayman, who also acted inappropriately on tv by literally saying fuck, you'd come to realise that rayman was treated so much more harshly. he was IMMEDIATELY replaced by a clone of himself, with no warning nor any indication that eden would do such a thing. it's very likely this was one of, if not the first time that rayman has slipped up like this on live tv. maybe it's a repeat offence considering his personality, but then you could argue that red is a repeat offender of the same shit and then you have to wonder why a soldier like red was not easily replaced but someone who is the literal face and voice of eden was with ease. it's because rayman made himself more than jus a story, he humanised himself by showing a peek of his raw feelings. remember that cute little exposition of the rayman kids show about hybrids? where we see all of these hybrids working as society's grunts and the kids are told to be thankful for hybrids? it's very sweet and gives a good message! now the rayman kids show is a product of eden propaganda, but rayman very much has a hand in it, most likely as a writer. he uses his platform to speak on issues that has happened and affected him. this can be seen in his biopic.

jus sit with this image for a moment. you ever think about why rayman is specifically made as an alien? why he's specifically an immigrant? in real life news reports and speeches, there is a difference in implications when people use immigrants and not aliens. you wanna know why?

as someone apart of an immigrant family myself, i live in a community of other immigrants. majority of them are hispanic, and while i myself am not hispanic, i am very aware of how hispanic immigrants were referred to and treated by politicians under trump's presidency. how couldn't i? even as children in middle school and elementary, we had discussions about what trump was saying because it directly targets my friends and their families. they are people targeted by a man who specifically uses derogatory terms to dehumanise them, to make it easier to justify in the average american mind that the government is doing the right thing by keeping out and protecting america from these so-called 'invading animals.' makes what red was saying earlier feel very on the nose, right? adi shankar, the showrunner for captain laserhawk, is also an immigrant man. immigrated from india, which by the way, did you know has a lot of people immigrating for the purpose of having a better life? that's a common sentiment that can be found in every single immigrant family's story. i've asked my filipino mother why she took an opportunity to live and work in america, and she told me it's because she wanted to give her children a better life than what we would have had in the philippines. hell, i bet if you share a similar background to me, you can ask your own parents the same thing and get the exact same answer, regardless if you came from latin america or africa, or asia. it's because of the concept of the american dream. everyone who has ever engaged with any degree of immigrant discussion has heard of the american dream. it's a concept that seems to be consistently proven via word of mouth, with the biggest examples being celebrities. they will always, without fail, eventually speak about the american dream within their backstories. and typically, they will use their platforms to further empower others within their community. it's why people from specific ethnicities tend to group together, why people make art meant as something akin to a homage to their people. it provides hope to the masses, makes you relate to the person on the screen, and believe that this society is truly a gracious one by providing opportunity. because yeah, it may be bad, but it could be worse. i mean we appreciate you! just look!

dont mind the fact that the majority of opportunities allotted to you is grunt work, the work where you at the base of the pyramid, with the harder jobs and the jobs no one wants to do. dont mind the fact you will be actively dehumanised, forced to work for hours in conditions we wouldn't put anyone else in, but hey. we appreciate you. we thank you. and yknow, you can become more than what you are. yknow, we let someone just like you be more than what you are! nevermind the fact that if they slip up, they'll be met with MUCH harsher criticism in comparison to someone who isn't you! aren't we so gracious? i probably sound a bit like matpat's insane out of context real world examples, but this show is filled with political imagery, so let me be. anyways, let's get back to eden and rayman. rayman, despite being specifically from dimension x as an alien, keeps hybrids in mind when he's doing his work.

people of colour tend to share solidarity with one another due to the fact that surface wise, we share similar struggles. to grossly oversimplify things, we all face discrimination through our appearances and are oppressed by the rules of a society created by our white oppressors. again, hybrids and dimension x immigrants can be equated to irl poc, and despite being different from each other, there is still community. rayman keeps them in mind, hoping to make things better for the overall nonhuman and nonnative (native as in naturally born) population of eden. but, rayman is not what he believes he is. because despite everything he has worked for, despite what he has tried to do, he is still a facilitator of the fascist regime that has an active hand in the perpetual oppression of his own people. one of the core concepts within fascism is us versus them. it's an easy way to instill fear (which is very much needed in fascism to make it easier to lie to the masses) and it's used in multiple layers, beginning with a large group (ex. us versus ussr, capitalism vs communism), then progressively sizing down (ex. saying all eastern europeans are communist, then going smaller and say all those affiliated with eastern europeans are communist) with the goal being to put people against each other and break up community since if you put your minds together, you'll start to realise that the fascist system is bullshit. what i've personally come to find is that in order to hide the fact that there is fascism lurking is that someone that can be considered a 'them,' an other, will be given a seat at the table. it's so they can be used as an excuse, a human shield, when they inevitably slip up and can be paraded to the masses as proof that the other is not as smart or powerful as 'us.' the 'other' within the 'us' is used as something to look down at, while also justifying to oneself that they have a place, that they are not being oppressed. they have an opportunity as much as anyone else! so long as they don't mess up. rayman messes up, and is shunned from 'us.' hes a mistake, impure, clearly not like 'us,' 'us' who had been so gracious to give this 'other' a place. he's cut out and discarded because he has well worn his purpose, and clearly, they can just get another little puppet. they'll dress him up and make him worthy of being one of 'us,' and make sure that this one won't fall to the fault of his little ideas. which is exactly what leads to rayman's transformation of ramon. being forcibly forced out and discarded by eden because he showed his true ideas makes him realise that there was no real place for him within the system. because what good is his work if it leads to what he tried not to create? it's worthless, just as the system it attempts to thrive in is.

tl;dr, rayman is a representation of the american dream, specifically celebrities. he tries to do what he can with his platform, but the fact is that within a fascist system, his impact is not entirely felt in the way he wants it to. that is why he becomes ramon.

anyways if you reached the end of THIS LONG ASS PIECE GOOD LORD thank you!! always open to discuss this and take criticism, my ask box is open in the lil 'who's asking' :^]

#this was a fucking long one my bad #this is inspired by saji sharma's video on mindy kailing #in the sense that it made a few things click nd well here we are #i'm on my fourth rewatch and yeah #yeah i had to say smth bc i dont think anyone has said shit abt this?#i blame the fact that i believe theres not that many poc doing the lil insane analysis thing i do #which is fine btw #also sorry if i got anything wrong !!#im slightly going off of my own memory sooo #captain laserhawk #rayman #clh rayman #captain laserhawk rayman #all the rayman tags bc idk what to do #character analysis

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epinebleue · 5 months

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for him (m) | 02

after a year abroad, you think summer back home can’t get any better. then, a charming ginger boy catches your eye.

pairing: nakamoto yuta x reader (female)

genre: rich kids!au, fluff, angst, mature.

warnings: mention of low self-esteem and racism.

chapter index | previous chapter | next chapter

Every summer, Jennifer’s parents spend two weeks in France to celebrate what they call their “annual honeymoon”.

Every summer, Jennifer throws a pool party while they’re away.

You’re supposed to be at her place at 10 AM to help her prep the space, but having stayed up late the night before, the annoying sound of the alarm does little to wake you up in the morning, Oliver doing so, instead.

You step into Jen’s patio exactly two hours later. She clicks her tongue at you, as if saying: “Finally!”.

Through the dark lenses of your sunglasses, you glance at her body as she approaches. The beautiful baby blue bikini she’s wearing fits her like a glove, as if it had been tailored with her in mind.

You’re used to feeling insecure whenever you’re around Jen. You know you shouldn’t, but you do.

It’s been this way since middle school, when one day the boys in your class rated the girls’ bodies from 1 to 10 on a piece of paper. You came second to last, while Jen’s name sat comfortably in first place.

“I know, I know.” You let out a sigh, allowing Jen to give you a tight hug. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny and Sooyoung wave at you from inside the pool and you wave back, walking to where the rest of your friends are. Wendy, who was sunbathing, sits beside you under the parasol. Victoria gets out of the pool and joins the group soon after.

Once settled on the lounger, you scan the space. Ten and Lucas are sitting on the edge of the pool with sunglasses on, swinging their legs in the water, immersed in what seems an intense conversation. Sooyoung and Johnny splash around as they try to drown each other, much to Yuta’s annoyance, who finds their game an obstacle to what he really wants: swim in peace.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but then, the switch in your mind flips: someone’s missing.

“Hey, where’s Chris?”

There’s a moment of silence where Wendy takes a sip of her lemonade, eye-siding Jen. “They argued yesterday.”

Your brunette friend looks away, missing your surprised expression. “Again?”

Chris’ parents are family friends, so you’ve known him for as far as you can remember. However, you had never interacted much until he became Jennifer’s first serious boyfriend.

Being an only child, Chris is expected to inherit his family’s wealth and business. If he’s famous for something, though, that’s his looks. You must admit he’s drop dead gorgeous. Of course, Jen wouldn’t settle for less.

Soon after they started dating, you realized that having a handsome partner had its drawbacks. Jennifer would whine in your group chat every week about how hard it was to stand girls checking him out, how some would go as far as to sneak papers with their phone numbers when she wasn’t looking.

Even if Chris politely rejected their approaches every time, Jennifer started to gradually get sick of the whole situation until, one day, it exploded.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He’s a Greek statue come to life, Jen, of course he will be hit on!” Wendy says. “You’ve got to learn to cope.”

Jen rolls her eyes at Wendy’s words, a sign she’s getting angry.

“On what side are you on, exactly?”

“We aren’t picking sides.” You try to mediate, making a gesture to your blonde friend, asking for her sun cream. Having prepared your bag in a rush, you must’ve left yours at home. “I know it’s hard to watch people flirt with him all the time. But Wendy has a point, too. Being good-looking isn’t his fault, you know?”

You end your statement with a glance in Victoria’s direction, but the girl doesn’t say a word. She’s the type to not participate in debates like this.

“Exactly!” Wendy agrees, pointing at you. “Besides, he always rejects those advances. He would never hurt your feelings on purpose, Jen. He’s literally the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.”

“Talking about me, I see.”

You turn around to find Yuta standing behind you, soaked from head to toe. A water drop on the tip of his hair falls on his shoulder and you follow it as it slides down his chest and reaches his happy trail.

You fan yourself. Good thing it’s hot today. Otherwise, what would you blame the fire in your belly on?

Jen chuckles as Yuta sits next to her, seeking protection from the aggressive sun. “Humble as always.”

“I thought I was the nicest boy you’ve ever met.” He shoves her with his shoulder, smiling. You’ve got the urge to look away. The fire in your belly is quickly replaced by an unsettling feeling you’re familiar with.

“After Chris.” Victoria finally speaks. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Not really, but I’ll get over it.” Yuta shrugs. “How come you’re still dry? It’s a pool party, ladies, come on!”

All your friends stand up, encouraged by his words and the terrible heat, and start walking to the pool. Except you. When Yuta notices, he gestures to you to join them.

“I’m not done.” You say, shaking the suncream bottle in the air.

“I’ll wait for you, then.”

“It’s fine.” He sits exactly where he was a few seconds ago. “Just go with the others.”

“Some more time in the shade never hurts.”

“So that’s why you’re here.” You find it hard to hide the disappointment in your tone. “You’ve fooled me. I thought you were a gentleman.”

Yuta leans back, his abs flexing as he speaks. He’s got such a tiny waist, adorned by a tattoo of a butterfly. You wonder if it carries any meaning.

“Oh, but I am.”

“I don’t believe it.” You finish extending the cream on your left arm. “You’ve hung around Ten for too long.”

“Other people’s personalities don’t change mine. I’m not Lucas.”

“Hey, don’t be mean to him.” You’re aware of the bad reputation that precedes Lucas. A drunk heart-to-heart conversation that happened before you went abroad helped you realize Lucas uses his behavior as a mask to hide his numerous insecurities. In a way, you can relate to that. Besides, being the youngest of five successful siblings makes him subject to his parents’ expectations, which tend to be unrealistic. And his brothers, far from supportive, are entitled assholes, straight-up bullies. No wonder he feels he has to act all tough to be taken seriously. “He’s a good kid.”

“Sorry, are we talking about the same person?” You’re about to defend Lucas again, but upon watching you struggle to apply the cream on your back, Yuta interrupts you before you can talk. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll get sunburnt there, anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Yuta grabs the bottle and sits right behind you, deaf to your words. At his insistence, you reach for your hair with trembling hands. Before you can even move it aside, he does so, his fingers brushing your back in the process.

You hold your breath at the sound of the cream coming out of the bottle. And then, his hands are on you.

You think your heart will jump out of your mouth and start running around the patio.

His warm palms delicately rub the cream into your skin, and you hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that bloom when he reaches the small of your back.

God, you’re so touch-starved it’s embarrassing.

You wonder if you’re tripping when Yuta takes a little longer to massage your shoulders. Trying to focus on anything else, your eyes land on Jen, who has joined Lucas and Ten by the edge of the pool. The bikini lets her flat stomach on display. Unconsciously, you suck in yours. She places her hair behind her shoulders as she laughs at something that Ten says.

Even her laugh sounds beautiful, everything about her is!

That must be why Yuta likes her so much.

You stand up, getting as far away from his hands as possible.

“I think that will do.” You say, eyes fixed on the floor, aware of how much you’ve just embarrassed yourself. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” His tone remains normal, but if you had looked at him, you would’ve seen him frown at the sudden mood change. Yuta leaves the bottle on the chair and follows you to the pool.

“About time you stopped playing handsies back there.”

You simply lift your middle finger at Ten, quickly making your way towards the staircase, hoping the water will hide your body from the rest.

It’s close to midnight and you’re on the verge of begging your parents to leave.

You’re celebrating the promotion of someone you don’t even know; drinking alcohol-free champagne, which you don’t even like that much; and bored Robinson Crusoe level.

Oliver and Noa left the moment they found their friends. Oli had invited you to join them, but you kindly refused, knowing that you would feel like a babysitter around his friends.

So, here you are, glued to your parents’ side, forced to listen to important conversations with important people, interested in neither.

Why have you been forced to come if your presence isn’t even going to be acknowledged? Your dad said it would be rude not to attend after a year abroad. What you understood was that they wanted to show you off, and the party seemed to be the perfect occasion.

You gulp the remains of your drink and leave the empty glass on the nearer table. You open your mouth, about to ask when you will be heading out when your dad’s name comes from the crowd.

“Jonathan!” He exclaims in surprise, shaking the hand of the man that appears in front of him. “Natalie! I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Well, we didn’t know you were coming!” Natalie, or what you call her out of respect, Mrs. Fulger, kisses your mother’s cheeks before addressing you. “You’re back from your trip! How was it, darling?”

You deliver a polite smile to the Fulgers, saying how the trip was “absolutely fantastic” and “a truly enriching experience.”

“You must be proud of her.” Mr. Fulger tells your parents, placing his big hand on his son’s shoulder. “Chris will take a gap year after graduating. One last taste of freedom before joining the company.”

The Fulger marriage laughs and your parents join them, and in less than a minute you’re back to being ignored, business taking over the conversation. You awkwardly stand beside your mom until you decide it’s enough.

“I’ll get something to drink.” You excuse yourself. “I’ll be back.”

“Chris will be enchanted to go with you.”

His father pushes him forward slightly. Chris gives you his signature charming smile before saying: “Of course.”

You make your way towards the bar immersed in an awkward silence. Of all people, you had to bump into him.

“Are you liking this party so far?”

“I’m bored to death.”

“Me too.” You tap the bar counter with your long nails, laughing at his honest answer. “How’s life going?”

“Good, it’s good.” He looks around, playing with the glass he’s holding. “I’m in the training process to start working in my father’s company. He wants me to get familiar with the business and its processes before stepping in.”

There’s nothing worse than inheriting a position in a family business, but that’s just your opinion.

“You must be excited.”

“I am, yeah.” Chris nods, taking a sip of his drink. Even if you’re both trying hard to ignore the elephant in the room, Chris gives in first. “Have you talked to Jennifer, by the way?”

“She’s my best friend, Chris.”

He gives you a half-smile, only realizing now how stupid his question must’ve sounded.

“She won’t return my calls or my texts. She has blocked me on every social media, she doesn’t even want to see me! I don’t know where we stand right now.”

You’re not sure of what to answer, afraid you may say the wrong thing. One thing you know, though, is that even if you’ll always be loyal to Jen, you must admit she’s handling this whole thing terribly wrong.

“I’m sure it sucks.”

Chris genuinely laughs for the first time tonight.

“Yeah, a little.” You laugh at his irony-filled tone, too, and the atmosphere feels much lighter now. “Relationships are so fucking complicated. Don’t ever get into one.”

“I’ll be fine.” You say, taking a sip of the drink the waiter has just served you. “It’s not like there’s a long line of men dying to date me.”

“Now, that’s surprising.”

Much to your delight, he’s too invested in his problem to notice how the blood has rushed to your cheeks.

A certain someone comes to your mind and with him a question you’re dying to ask.

“Please, don’t take this the wrong way.” Chris straightens his back, shoving a hand into the pocket of his suit pants, nodding. “Have you and Jen argued due to a… third person?”

It’s just like when people yell at a character to not go into the room where the killer awaits. But it’s just you in the cinema, screaming at yourself to stop talking.

“Of course not! What the fuck?” Chris’ blue eyes open wide in shock as he reaches for his phone. “Did she tell you that? Does she think I’m cheating?”

“No, Chris.” You place a hand on his arm in an attempt to stop him from texting Jen, who will murder you if she finds out you have planted a new suspicion in Chris’ mind. “God, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry. It was just a question! I swear-”

“Hey.”

You aren’t sure if you should celebrate or bury a hole in the floor and hide when Yuta appears out of thin air, his eyes falling on Chris’ arm, where your hand is. You quickly move it away, which is exactly what is needed to make everything look suspicious.

“Hi.” Chris greets, not interested in Yuta’s presence at all. His head is elsewhere now that you’ve completely fucked up. “I’m leaving, I need to call her.”

Chris disappears in the crowd before you have the chance to say goodbye, leaving you behind with Yuta, who raises an eyebrow at you.

“Um, what was that?”

Whatever he’s insinuating offends you terribly. Do you look like the type to steal your best friends’ guys?

“That was nothing.” You snap. “He’s Jen’s boyfriend.”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“It’s a rough patch, they’ll end up getting back together.”

“Hopefully, they won't.” Your heart drops at his remark, but Yuta’s too busy looking in the direction Chris has disappeared, resting an elbow on the bar. “I hate that guy.”

Chris has always seemed kind and very down to earth. You wonder what could he have possibly done to gain Yuta’s resentment. To that question, you’ve got a theory. And you’d hate being right.

“I think he’s nice.”

“Oh, you think he’s nice?” Yuta snorts at your words. “You don’t know him that well at all, then.”

Yuta glances around the room, which allows you to scan him for a while. He looks really handsome in a suit. He reminds you of those vintage Hollywood stars.

“Why do you hate Chris? Is it because you like Jennifer?”

The question shocks you both. Again, you’re alone in the cinema begging yourself to just shut the fuck up.

“What?” He lets out a laugh of disbelief. “What does Jen have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know...”

“Oh, you do know. What have you seen that made you think that?”

Congratulations! You’ve just dug your own grave.

“Nothing in particular.” You answer, shrugging. “You seem to get along really well, now you hate her boyfriend...”

“First of all, I don’t like Chris because he’s a racist piece of shit. And I get along really well with Johnny, too. Do you think I want to fuck him, too?”

You can feel the color draining from your face.

“I don’t know what you like.”

If there’s something you’ve learned about Yuta, it’s that he’s the straightforward type. He’s unbothered and an expert when it comes to turning around the conversation to make it beneficial for him. He’s something like a mastermind, you’d say.

“Do you like me?”

“What?!” You shriek, trying to hide your shaky voice with a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

“Why then would you ask me about Jen?” Yuta presses, tilting his head to the side. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m not! I was just curious!”

“You’re full of shit.” You’d be lying if you said you don’t find his smirk insanely attractive. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind. I would be very glad, actually.”

It’s at this point that your head starts spinning.

You see, you have never been confident. Out of the friend group, you’ve always been the shiest one. You don’t smile in pictures because you think your smile is ugly, and you don’t wear tight clothes because you hate your body.

You have had a single relationship in your life, at sixteen, and it crushed your self-esteem even further. A promise to yourself was made after that: no one would put you through that hell again.

Is that what Yuta is playing at? Making you believe he likes you just to laugh in your face once you take the bait?

He had seemed genuine when he defended you the night you met. Had it just been to give a good first impression?

You hold your purse tight, hold your head high.

“I hope the rest of your night goes well, Yuta.”

And you walk away with your dignity intact.

No reposting or translations allowed.

#yuta smut #nct smut #nct fic #nct yuta #nct yuta smut #yuta angst #yuta fluff #nct yuta angst #nct yuta fluff #nct angst #nct fluff #nakamoto yuta #yuta imagine

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billkaulitzwife · 10 months

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More Stupid Shit My Friends and I Have Said Feat. The Outsiders

Ponyboy

"Are you seriously on fucking Tomodachi life rn."

"What's your tit size? I MEANT KITTEN BITE. I MEANT WHAT DOES YOUR KITTEN BITE."

"If I had a nickel for every time I got confused I'd be a fucking millionaire."

Sodapop

"I'm mad at you now. I was watching a Livestream of a bird eating and I had to click on your notification."

"I don't own the cat. The cat owns me"

"I love fruit. Why? My boyfriends a fucking fruitbowl, c'mon now."

Darry

"Shit I burnt the grilled cheese." *Goes outside and throws it at a squirrel* "Eat it or I'll kill you."

"What the fuck do you mean Johnny's getting married to Elvis??"

"I've never had a soda so when my mom brings soda home we all worry."

"You caused a Chain reaction. You got suspended last week then Pony tells me 10 girls got suspended today."

Addie

"I tried to quit smoking. Yeah didn't last long."

"What animal are Teletubbies?"

"They call me grilled cheese cuz I make a mean one."

Dallas

"They call you queen bee cuz u been fuckin all of 'em."

"Next time I see Cherry Valance I'm throwing a box of cherries at her. Bitch."

"What animal is Mickey Mouse?"

Johnny

"How the fuck do people on Discord have my Snapchat, too."

"If I had a nickel for everytime I worried you guys I'd be in California."

"Guys I'm almost 17 :)"

Two-Bit

"Nuh-uh."

"I guess you could say that I am... a little silly in the morning."

*Talking to Steve while high* "Did you see how high Addie was this morning at school?"

"If I had a Nickel."

Steve

"I had a grilled cheese for breakfast."

"I'm not gay but my boyfriend is."

"If I had a Nickel for everytime I had something on my face I'd be on a yacht right now instead of staring at y'all's ugly bitch asses."

-_-_-_-_-_-

Addie: I know how to shoot a shotgun.

Darry: HOW?

Steve and Dallas, in the corner: 😳

-_-_-_-_-_-

Steve: That grilled cheese was good. Thanks Ads.

Addie: I made one and you live a mile away.

-_-_-_-_-_-

*Dallas and his mom in an argument*

His Gramma: *Sends a weird Facebook meme.*

Dallas: 🤓

-_-_-_-_-_-

Dallas: I remember when I used to sit on Santa's lap.

Johnny: Just like when some adult man made me sit on his!

Everyone else: 😥

-_-_-_-_-_-

Steve: Hey, hun did you check on the kids?

Sodapop: Hey, twins, Johnny, dinner's almost ready.

-_-_-_-_-_-

Darry: Top four animals

Addie: Kittens, frogs, turtles... Beluga.

Two-Bit: Birds-

Addie: BIRDSSSSSS OH MY GOD HOWD I FORGE-

-_-_-_-_-_-

Steve: I want a toasted cheese sandwich.

Pony: A fucking grilled cheese?

-_-_-_-_-_-

*Curtises hanging with their cousins*

The ginger cousin: I need to know what animal I would be and why.

Sodapop: LEPRECHAUN

Pony: A whale.

Cousin: HEY

-_-_-_-_-_-

Darry Curtis (active 4 hours ago): Phones on the tabke when you get home.

Ponyboy McLovin Curtis (Active Now): WHAT DID I DO

addie curtis (Active Now): are you serious.

Coca-Cola (Active Now): what happened

Darry Curtis (Active Now): None of you. Dallas and Steve.

Daddy dallas winston(Active.): is it cuz I took addie out to dinner or because we went to the shooting range after

Stevie (Active): I wasnt thwre i promise

Darry Curtis: what is this then *sends a picture of addie and dallas holding guns like bonnie and clyde while Steve is in the middle smiling huge*

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

guys i made a grilled cheese for the first time so These are mostly shit ive said. also ive found tumblr to actually be a safe space so idk.

#darry curtis #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #dallas winston #steve randle #two bit mathews #the outsiders 1983 #greasers #addie curtis #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders incorrect quotes #incorrect quote #i am suffering #Spotify

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

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Chapter Eight (Part 2)

The thing I simultaneously love and hate about St. Stephen’s night is that you get to see everyone you’ve ever known on the streets of your hometown. There’s the kids you knew in primary school, the girls from your swimming club, your 5th year maths teacher, everyone and anyone you’ve encountered in your life is somewhere among the heaving crowds of one hopping pub or the other, and if everyone has had enough to drink they might even feel moved to speak to each other.

Claire and I squeeze into a pub that we frequented a lot during 6th year and the moment we’re inside I know that finding a seat will be a rare chance. People are everywhere and the sound is utterly cacophonous. She reaches for my hand and together we wrestle through the crowd and eventually find ourselves spit out into the smoking area where there’s a tiny corner of space just enough for us to squeeze into. Claire takes out her phone and immediately starts tapping out a message.

“For Shane.” She explains. “He’s already here… somewhere.” Sure enough within moments he appears holding three pints in his hands with the skill and precision of an Oktoberfest beer maid. He holds his laden hands out to me and when I hesitate unsure what to do he says “The middle one there, grab the middle one off me.” I gingerly slip it out of his hands and then he gives the other one to Claire along with a kiss on the forehead.

“Heineken?” I whine when I realise what he’s given me. “I hate Heineken.”

“Don’t drink it then.” He rolls his eyes. “Here, give it back, I’ll have it.”

“No.” I say, holding it out of his reach, because far be it from me to deny free beer. “It’s fine, I’ll suffer through it.”

“You’re such a baby.”

I give him the finger as I take a drink from my pint, not enjoying one moment of it and Claire sighs impatiently. “You two.” she says. “You act like children, did you know that?”

“No, Evie does.” Shane rebuttals, which makes me snort.

“You’re way worse.”

“Nah.”

“Yes! I’ll never forgive you for pelting me with stones in your driveway. You were such a bold child.”

“Ah yeah, like ten years ago.”

“You wish you still could sometimes.” I say gleefully. “You get the same look on your face whenever I’m annoying you. Like right now! I know you would if you could. Go on, grab a handful of gravel, there.”

“You’d swear you were actual siblings.” Claire drawls, and Shane pulls a horrible face at me that makes me want to burst out laughing. He really has been the closest thing to a brother that I’ve ever had, just like Kelly used to feel like a sister to me sometimes, but if someone had told me just two years ago that I’d be closer to him than I was to her I wouldn’t have believed them. When I remember Kelly I get a terrible, sick feeling inside and I wonder to myself whether she’s here tonight. I find myself scanning quickly over the crowd for a sign of her, but there isn’t one. Feeling more subdued all of a sudden, I go back to drinking my pint.

I’m only an hour into the night when I realise I am not there to actually enjoy myself and catch up with old acquaintances. At one moment as I tussle into the bar for the fourth time I realise that I am there to get drunk, extremely, mind altering drunk so that I can forget about the shambles of my Christmas and get to a point that I’m too incoherent to keep repeating the same lie to people about how I had a nice time with my family, and pretend that I didn’t spend it sulking in bed while the rest of them played awkward scrabble downstairs next to my dad who was passed out in an armchair by five o’clock.

Uncle Sean gave me a hundred euro for Christmas, but after about an hour I’ve whittled it down by half, and I’m sure by the end of the night the rest of it will be spent too. At a certain point I give up on pints, which are just making me need to pee every fifteen minutes, and make the switch to spirits. I order another two whiskeys and fill them up with ginger ale and then I go and stand with a group of people who I knew in school so that I don’t appear to be drinking alone. They’re talking about something that I find boring. Every conversation I’ve dipped into tonight has been boring and I wonder if it really is true what people in Dublin say about those from the country, that it’s all shallow, dull conversation that either centres around sports or their family’s farm. A girl next to me is recycling some gossipy story about someone from school that I heard two years ago and at that point I can’t stand it anymore. I down both whiskies one after another and slink off to find something else to do.

“Woah, slow down there Evie.” I hear one of them say as I turn away and they all laugh. I’m already reaching that dizzy, double vision stage of drunkenness and I welcome it openly, allowing the numbing drowsiness to envelop me wholly and feel my coordination lapse. I don’t want to think anymore.

At some point I find myself back at the bar, and I stand and wait for what feels like eternity as the barmen ignore me continuously. I reach out my hand as one of them comes close “Sorry there, can I get-” He serves the person behind me instead. I find the barstool behind my legs and slump into it hoping that it might anchor me a bit as the room starts to tilt.

“Gin and tonic, please.” There is a familiar voice beside me and I turn my head to see a fuzzy version of Kelly standing nearby. I wonder if she’s seen me yet. Her features are moving around her face in front of my eyes, but I know it’s her. She looks different with her hair straightened and I kind of want to tell her that. I also don’t want her to be angry with me anymore, and I see this as a good moment to start that conversation.

“Kelly.” I say, and she snaps around to look at me. It must be the first time we’ve made eye contact in a year. “Hi.” I say, and I can see her mouth tighten into a thin line as she hands her debit card to the barman. She says nothing to me.

I try again and I reach out to touch her arm and am aware of how sweaty my hand is against her smooth skin. She flinches away immediately, eyes blazing. “What do you want?” I drop my hand onto my lap pathetically. “I wanted to say hello.”

“The state of you.” She retorts. “I wouldn’t be seen in public hanging over a bar pissed drunk like that.” I can tell she wants to leave but the bartender is still making her drink so she can’t. She starts looking at the exit, over my shoulder for someone else to talk to, anything to get away from this conversation I’ve roped her into. It makes me feel unbearably sad.

“Why do you always run away from me?” I say miserably. “You never want to talk about why we aren’t friends.”

“There isn’t anything to say.”

“It’s not fair, you can’t just walk away from it all. I didn’t do anything wrong-”

“You were an awful friend.” She cuts in. “Hanging out with you was fucking shit, alright?”

“Not always.” I say, offended, and then she ignores me and takes out her phone to scroll through it as a last resort. I feel like I’m going to start crying as the gravity of it all comes crashing over me. How we were so close for so many years, we shared everything with each other, I know everything about this girl and yet we’re strangers now. It makes my heart feel like it’s breaking.

With a last ditch effort, I attempt to compliment her. “Your hair is nice like that.” I say, and I reach out to touch it, only she doesn’t hear me, and as she flinches away from me in alarm some of it gets tangled in my rings and I end up yanking it.

She makes a horrified, furious face. “Ouch!” She exclaims, and I see her eyes blaze, wide with disbelief as she holds onto the part of her scalp that I wrenched. “Did you just pull my hair?”

“No!” I start to protest, but there are murmurs in the crowd around us. I look over my shoulder and two girls are whispering about me while someone else is shaking their head. Kelly steps in closer to me, leaning over a barstool so that we’re almost nose to nose. “You’re a bitch.” She hisses. “Go fucking die.” She takes someone’s warm, discarded pint off the bar and throws it over my top and I cry out in shock. Everyone is looking, everyone is laughing, and then something terrible happens to me.

I start to get angry. Really angry.

I lash out at her before I can stop myself, and my hands shove her arms away from me, sending the pint glass straight to the floor where it shatters into smithereens, then I lunge towards her and shove her into the crowd of men behind her. “You’re a bitch!” I shriek. She looks like she’s going to murder me then, and comes, coming at me with her hands clawing at the air and her face contorted like a wild animal. As time slows down I ask myself, am I really about to get into a fist fight with Kelly? I’m bracing myself for her nails on me when I am yanked from the scene with violent speed, and all of a sudden Shane is in my face instead.

“What is wrong with you?” He’s shouting, and the ferocity in his voice brings startled tears to my eyes. I don’t know what to say. He’s holding me by my upper arms and squeezing me and it hurts but I don’t dare say anything about it. “Get outside.” He kicks open a side door and throws me outside into an alley filled with used beer kegs and plastic crates. My legs almost give out underneath me and I stumble backwards into the wall.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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coffeebanana · 10 months

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15 Questions 15 Mutuals

Thanks for the tag @ladyofthenoodle and @kasienda

1. Are you named after anyone?

No, although my middle name is a family name.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I think a few weeks ago? I watched "Everything, Everywhere, All at Once" and KJBSDFKBJD. Like that movie is such a fun mix of WTF is even going on craziness and contemplating the point of existence and exploring complicated family feelings and the end is weirdly heartwarming--particularly the interactions between the mother and daughter, which is what really got me. And I was watching with one of my best friends and like right after the movie ended he was like "if we were rocks you'd be the googly eyes"--which makes no sense if you haven't seen the movie but that made me cry again because kajdfbksjbf it was so oddly sweet. (Though that was a mixture of hysterical laughter and crying ajsdjfsvjhv in a good way though!)

3. Do you have kids?

nope. maybe one day if i ever get my life together LOL

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

idk if it's a lot?? though i'm probably single-handedly responsible for teaching my brother sarcasm (he's 7 years younger than me so when he was learning would have been right as i was entering those peak sarcasm years LOL)

sarcasm is still deeply engrained in me though, and i nowadays when i use it i definitely pay more attention to how people react to it (ie whether they picked up on it) because i tend to deliver it in a very matter-of-fact voice. like, one of my favourite stupid sarcastic comments to make is whenever something weird weather-wise happens i'll be "but thank god climate change is fake, right?" and KJABFDKSJBD i've gotten some WEIRD LOOKS saying that one around ppl who don't know me that well and then i have to explain myself 😭

5. What sports do you play/have played?

i used to figure skate!! my mom was a coach when i was growing up, so i would joke that i lived part-time at the ice rink. it was kind of inevitable 😂. but i was never good at the jumps. i prefered ice dance or synchronized skating (think synchronized swimming but on the ice)

and i also used to play hockey!? very different environment LOL and my hockey teammates would sometimes tease me for showing up to a game in a dress after skating practice on days i had both but it was all in good fun

now...now i really SHOULD do something kajsdkbfsj

6. What’s the first thing you notice about someone?

i...really have no idea.

7. What’s your eye color?

hazel? i think?

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

happy endings. scary movies don't really freak me out but i guess i just find them sort of...low-reward? i'm not a movie person to begin with because it's hard for me to get invested in the characters in such a short amount of time. with horror movies that's even harder because they're all about shock value instead of getting to know the characters

9. Any special talents?

i am very very good at puns. does that count? 😂

10. Where were you born?

canada. on the west coast

11. What are your hobbies?

when i have energy/motivation i really enjoy cooking (or baking, but with baking i have to actually measure ingredients and with cooking i just sort of go with the flow). my new apartment is going to have space for a dishwasher--which really is the most exciting thing in my life right now--so i'm hoping that motivates me to cook more!!

12. Do you have pets?

yes!!! i have a ginger cat and her name is Curie (namesake Marie Curie because i'm a proud little nerd like that). I love her she's so stupid and has tried to eat plastic TOO MANY TIMES but every morning and night she will curl up on my chest when i'm in bed and she's just a precious bean

13. How tall are you?

5'5.5 (166cm). but i would have been taller if my spine had known how to grow straight 😔

14. Favorite subject in school?

science!! i had the same science teacher in high school from grades 8-10 (aka the only teacher in the french immersion department who was really qualified to teach it 😂) and i ADORED HER. from day one i was hooked--like she even made syllabus day fun. so i owe my love of science in part to her, really.

in university i realized i liked chemistry best amongst the sciences, so that was my major. and my favourite class i ever took was intro to quantum chemistry (which is really just quantum physics but the math was geared more towards what us chemistry students were familiar with)

15. Dream job?

okay, avoiding the typical "i do not dream of labour" answer...i really don't know. which is a problem. like i genuinely have no idea what i could do long-term that would actually make me happy and i just hope i figure it out at some point akjsdkfsjbd ... I feel like I was not supposed to leave paragraph responses for some of these but akjfkdsjbgd i can admit i like to talk about myself, okay? Anyways! I think I can find 15 mutuals who as far as i know haven't been tagged yet.

@ck2k18, @wackus-bonkus-maximus, @redundant-lava, @maridotnet, @celestialtitania, @talkstoself, @saiikavon, @sunfoxfic, @rosiesared, @mexicancat-girl, @tiredfloridianbutverygay, @fortuna-et-cataclysmos, @zenniaphoenix, @eggothemusicalwaffle, @bocadelicate

#tag game #about me

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 years

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Superhero Stranger Things AU (1)

Sooo. A superhero Stranger Things AU (Steddie will be included in next posts, yeah, sue me). But nothing Spider-man-esque or in a large city. Just a small town trying to contain its villains, heroes and unchecked superpowers. Hear me out. I have way too many ideas but I need to sleep, so I will be splitting this into parts.

The toxic spill from the Hawkins lab is real, there was an experimental substance involved and all effects are not fully explored. Sure, the resident lab rat/kid, subject Eleven, seems to develop powers of telekinesis, but a single result is hardly conclusive. Except then Eleven accidentally damages one of the liquid containers, causes the leak and runs away while Papa and his science buddies try to contain it. And guess who are the two people who happen to live nearby and suddenly start feeling different after taking a stroll in the woods. Yep, Will Byers and Steve Harrington.

Will develops a weird connection to the spilled chemical, the more it spreads, the more he feels what is happening in the town. When someone steps on a contaminated area, he shudders and feels like ants are walking on his skin. He has no clue what's going on, but suddenly he just knows that his mom is driving home and what route she is taking, he knows that Jonathan is staring at Nancy Wheeler in school like she was the newest model of a camera and he's very quietly freaking out because he doesn't want to know all of this. He knows that Lucas has a crush on the new girl in their class with ginger hair and he knows that Dustin found a weirdly colored lizard and named him after nougat and he just wants some peace and quiet to draw, but it's just so loud in his head!

Steve, the King of Hawkins High, develops the gift of disastrous precognition. More like a curse, because where his main concern used to be how to get around his dad's demands and how to be on the top of the high school social ladder, he now has responsibilities (Steve Harrington Trademark). He sees a random kid from middle school, carrying something small in his palm, and suddenly there are huge red letters flashing in his head, screaming DANGER. He catches up with the kid - Dustin Henderson - and with very poorly hidden panic, persuades Dustin to show his discovery to the science teacher. Lo and behold, the small lizard may be cute, but its color is caused by some strange goo sticking to its skin, scales or whatever and it should definitely be examined before being handled barehanded. A bit too late for that. The warning signs now go off nonstop in Steve's head and he goes from Mr. Popular to Mr. What-the-fuck-are-you-doing-wait-for-that-green-light-little-shithead in a few weeks.

Steve meets the Party when he sees them heading to the woods and the radar in his head nearly explodes. He asks them where they're going and they very unwillingly inform him they're off to the junkyard to play. He tries to stop them, comes off as an absolute lunatic, but the smallest boy looks very nervous and tries to get the others listen to Steve, in vain. Of course these brats would rather pull their teeth out than listen to an (almost) adult. So Steve just swallows several choice words, grabs a baseball bat from his trunk ("for practice, not to beat up people! I swear to god, Wheeler, you little shit, it's not like that-!") and follows the kids, just to keep an eye on them because he can't relax anyway. When the small boy (Will Byers, Steve learns) shudders and suddenly announces there is a black bear nearby, others don't believe him, but Steve's danger radar is going off and he drags the kids to the abandoned bus, barricades them inside and watches over them until he is sure it is safe to come out. He and Will don't talk then, but they share a few meaningful looks. And when Will says it's fine to leave the bus now, Steve immediately accepts it as a fact.

The rest of the party is not fully sure what happened, but Dustin's eyes sparkle when he looks at Steve now. And Steve starts liking the boy too because hey, he saved his health/life or whatever two times already and the kid is really smart, even though too cheeky for his own good. So when Dustin and Will pound on his door two days later, explaining (too quickly and in a very confusing way) that there was probably something wrong with Dart ("the lizard, pay attention, Steve!") and that Dustin is gradually becoming something akin to a human radio, hearing various frequencies in his head and being able to flip through them at will, Steve just sighs and lets them in because sure, a human radio? That's new, but not surprising.

(Dustin also tries to give them superhero names when they share that they might have some powers, but Steve vehemently objects to Danger-man and Will just says "no" to Sludge Boy, so the jury is still out on that one)

#stranger things #strangerthings #stranger things drabble #strangerthingsdrabble #stranger things au #strangerthingsau #steve harrington #will byers #dustin henderson

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tate-lin · 1 year

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15 Questions with Ly Minh

Thanks for the tag Cee! 🥰

Tagging @justahalfling @ihaventpickedausername @iced-ginger-tea @andromeda-grace @kaiyo @iriswords @yors-truly @words-after-midnight @islanded-in-a-stream-of-stars @sabels-small-sphere @leebrontide @pure-solomon @mattresses-and-macaroni @thepixiediaries @poetinprose @arowanaprincess @hd-literature @freedominique @mariahwritesstuff @ls-daydreams @mrbexwrites @wildswrites @thecrookedwriterspath and anyone else who wants to do it!

[Not pictured are her numerous burn scars]

1) Are you named after anyone?

Heyy I'm Ly Thi Minh, and nope I'm not named after anyone. Honestly though, with how common my name is in Vietnam, I very well could be lmao

2) When was the last time you cried?

Well that escalated quickly.

3) Do you have kids?

I only just turned 15 so if I do have one, be sure to attend my funeral tomorrow!

(P.S. Bring plum blossoms or I'll rise out of my grave and eat you :))))

(P.P.S. Nom nom nom slurp slurp slurp)

4) Do you use sarcasm?

No ♥️ /s

5) What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their threat levels. Practically speaking, what else would you notice?

6) What's your eye colour?

Dark brown. There's not much variety in Southeast Asia, I'm afraid.

7) Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. Why would I want to deliberately make myself miserable?? Please, if I wanna scare myself, all I need to do is look in the mirror 😂

8) Any special talents?

I recently discovered that I'm freakishly good at dodging shit, so let's go with that.

9) Where were you born?

Vietnam, in New Hanoi! It was my childhood home and 75% of it got reduced to rubble :)

Now I live in Lorelei, United States. It kinda sucks but it's also kinda cool. You can say that I have a... Love-hate relationship towards it, I guess. I had to leave, obviously, of course I had to, but it's not exactly a crime to miss it, y'know??

10) What are your hobbies?

I used to do jigsaw puzzles. I even got into a Facebook group where we borrowed puzzles from a shared collection and Kalisha would help me frame up my pieces 'round the house. We haven't done that in a while though... The last one I did was a really cool piece of various Pokémon with a stained glass window effect. Kalisha bought it for my birthday and she even helped me put it together. I don't think puzzles are really her thing though haha

11) Have you any pets?

Má got a goldfish for me once and I named him Lucky. He died the next day though, so I guess he was actually Unlucky.

12) What sports do you play/have you played?

Barrier Ball! I don't know if you've heard of it but it's a popular game in America where there are goal posts on the ground, in the middle of the air, and high up in the sky. I know that there are other sports where you can use barriers to run around in the air but this is extra fun cause there are some volleyball elements too, like our setter-like midfielder. I actually wanted to do that, but I got forward instead. It's not bad though; it's kinda fun to 'disappear' and come out of nowhere with a shot. Like a sniper :)

Freaks out the opposing team every time haha

13) How tall are you?

5'5... I can't believe I think in feet and inches now; what have I become???

14) Favourite subject in school?

Math, I guess. Once you get into the rhythm, your brain kinda just switches off. It's actually really relaxing.

15) Dream job?

Uhhhhh I don't know. Does anyone really know what they wanna do at this age?

Besides Má, I guess, but that's cause she's crazy over ethreasts. Not everyone has such an obvious passion though, and especially not me :/

#joker of ashes #ly minh #tate lin writes #tag game #15 oc questions

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lover4st · 2 years

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“i thought you wouldn’t have changed.” ”i thought you would be the same.” -steve harrington x henderson!reader

Warnings: Cursing, somewhat angst.

Words:2,217

NOT MY GIF

Placed during season 2.

Got most of the lines from some of the season 2 episodes, if I accidentally copied something from someone else’s story I am so sorry, and it would be great for me to be notified if I can maybe change it.

+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+

Where the hell did my brother go?

I look into his room and find nothing. No sign of where he went. Or well he might have tried to hide if he went out for a certain reason. My first instinct is to look in the closest, so I do.

Holy. Hell.

Why is Mews in his fucking closet? And have a fucking bleeding whole in the middle of them.

Now I have to find Dustin; cause he either had something to do with this, or he had no idea and maybe he was running. I have to get him no matter what.

Where would he go?

I realize I would not know where he would hide.

So, I just go to a place some kids go to to get away sometimes. Or well, the people I know go there to get away.

The Junkyard.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I pull up and it’s so foggy I can barely see the random pieces of meat laying on the ground.

What the hell are people doing here?

And the old bus is boarded up.

Is someone trying to drag something out here?

I hear rustling behind me and all I can see is the fog. There is something here and I don’t want to be anywhere near it. I just want to find my little brother.

I hear something that sounds something like Dustin in the bus. I finally get a look and see that there are 2 kids on the roof of the bus.

“Hold on!” Says the little boy that is there. He is looking through binoculars and I see the girl with ginger hair look behind him with her eyes squinted so she could try to somewhat see what he was seeing.

I hear a low growl from across the fog, and I realize I want to get the hell in that bus. Not giving a shit of who was in there at this point.

“I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock!” He stutters for a quick moment, “Ten o’clock!” That stutter told me that he was scared, so whoever else was in there might be to.

I make my move over to the bus and start banging on it.

“Can I please get in!! I didn’t mean to get in on your hunting grounds, but I want to be the farthest I can from that thing!” Banging so hard I was surprised the thing hasn’t attack me yet cause of the loud noise. Cause I’m annoying myself by how loud it is.

“Who the hell is she?!” I hear someone say. I don’t know who they are, but they sound sort of young. They also sound sort of familiar. Then again this is a small town, everyone knows everyone. Most people in this town have a raspy voice from smoking, but they have a nice voice. That also tells me he is maybe near my age.

“What is my sister doing here?!” I hear Dustin say. I don’t care he knows I’m here. I continuously bang because I don’t want to get eaten alive, but with how they are trying to make the decision to let me in or not. I’m not going to be surprised if I get straight up slaughtered right now.

“You have a sister?!”

“No one cares that I’m his fucking sister! But I prefer not to get murdered while you guys are making the decision if to let me in or not! I prefer an answer now otherwise I’m gonna start running,” I hear rumbling.

I get pulled in by my brother and I turn to see a man with a bat with nails waiting for me to get dragged in so he can go out. Oh my. It was him.

Steve Harrington.

No wonder he sounds familiar. He used to be my high school bully. Would push me over, ruin my homework, and then some.

I don’t care enough at the moment. I’ll worry about that later. Right now I cling to one of the seats to try to stop myself from hyperventilating.

“Why are you here?!” I turn and see my brother, who is pissed at me for some reason.

“Me?! You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving! I was looking for you! I was scared.” I somehow got that out without sounding like I’m about to have a breakdown. I just sounded like I was out of breath.

He turns and hears something that blows past me. My ears are ringing so I could barely register what Dustin was saying. I sit here before I see these things trying to get inside. I see the boys yelling and panicking. And over to my right the teenage boy was fighting a weird science project disaster, thing.

I hear stomping over the roof and see the red hair girl’s eyes fill with fear and she screams. I run over and try to put myself in danger instead of her. Even without any weapons, I can throw a few punches maybe before this thing eats me.

“Out of the way! Out of the way!” And I somewhat push her away and stand in front of this demonic looking creature, I feel like it is piercing me with its gaze, though has no eyes. Just teeth. “You want some! Come get this!”

I brace myself for something bad to happen and something I didn’t even possibly think about, though I had no time to even have 3 thoughts at most in my mind.

It growls at me and then runs away.

Holy shit.

I want to pass out at the moment.

I want to wake up from this crap.

Nope instead I can’t even notice anything going on around me. I block it out.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

They started walking in the woods and at this point I just start following. I don’t know what is happening, but they seem to somewhat have an idea.

“Are you okay?” I turn and see Steve on my left holding a flashlight in his right hand, and the bat in his left with his backpack on his back. He was looking at me awaiting my answer.

“I’m confused by everything, that is going on at the moment.” I say staring back at the ground. “All I know was I saw my cat half eaten alive in my little brother’s closet and went to go find him and all I saw was this weird shit.”

“Wait what?! Your cat? You never told us it ate Mews.” I heard the little boy that wasn’t my brother sound shocked. “Wait so you were hiding it from us? You kept it!” He turned to my brother now frustrated.

Steve didn’t care anymore and started walking into a different direction. To a ledge of a mount. I followed him. And there is building there. We heard something, and he yelled at the kids stopping their yelling conversation.

We all started to follow him. But there was still so much running through my head.

“What are y’all’s names?” I ask.

“Max,” says the ginger.

“Lucas,” says the little boy that wasn’t my brother.

“I’m Steve.”

“I know who you are dumbass, I never forget the bullies at our high school. Especially the ones that ruined my year.” I said with harshness in my voice.

“You are the asshole she was talking about the whole time!” Dustin says with a little chuckle and also somewhat loud, like he’s trying to make a funny joke.

Steve is quiet for a moment just paying attention to where we are supposed to be going.

“Well, if you can’t tell I’ve changed. I was in a bad crowd at the time which didn’t help improve my character. I am sorry for that.” Steve said it with guilt in his tone. Like he actually felt bad. I shouldn’t have brought that up.

“It’s fine, I got over it mostly.” I didn’t really want to apologize to the one person who bullied me in my early high school years.

Everything is pretty quiet for a little bit. Til we get to the facility.

There is so much shit going on, it all blocks out again.

Then we get to the Byer’s household. And I don’t want to be apart of this anymore. I want to leave. They are talking of a plan, no. Let me go.

“What the hell are you doing! What is this shit! I just saw some fucking wild things, that I don’t even know have fucking names! Who’s are those?! Is God trying to send me to hell early?! How long has this been happening!” I yell while throwing my arms. Everyone is still quiet. “Can I get somewhat of an explanation?!” I sound crazy but everything that is going on is crazy so I’m perfectly fine. Everyone just stars at me.

“I’ll take you home, this is clearly too much for you.” Steve says grabbing all his stuff. “I’ll tell you in the car.” He is packed up and ready to get in and he heads to the door waiting for me.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“You see it’s very confusing and you probably still don’t get it. But that’s fine.” Steve summed up everything that’s going on, and we are only halfway there to my house. I don’t know what to say at all.

“I’m sorry for everything. Honestly. I was such a dick to you, or well anyone. I just hope you know I don’t plan on ever being that person again. I would actually think it would be pretty cool to be your friend.” Steve says, which catches me by surprised. He gave me a few quick glances before his eyes were back on the road. I looked at him with my eyes wide at first and then they went back to normal. I am somewhat blushing at the moment.

“I’m not that upset anymore. I’m glad you realized you had the wrong friends. But you already have you own friend group at school with your girlfriend and everything. We wouldn’t talk much anyway, even though we have a few classes together.” I said looking out the window.

“I don’t plan on dating her anymore.” I look at him with surprise all over my face. “Or well, she didn’t on dating me anymore. She likes Jonathon more than me.” I shake my head thinking why she would, Steve is nice and handsome. And he changed for her, and she just runs away? “Don’t try to tell me she doesn’t. I see how she looks at him. She hasn’t looked at me like that for a little bit. I’m just happy she found someone that fits her perfectly.”

Wow.

Steve Harrington, sounding so mature and nice in this moment is blowing my mind. But I only knew freshman and sophomore Steve. Not the older version of him. He seems like a really great guy.

“You are an amazing human being,” he turns to me seemed kind of surprised by what came out of my mouth. To be honest, I didn’t mean for that to come out. “Sorry,” I chuckled looking down at my lap embarrassed. “You just seem like a great person trying to understand her point of view and trying to not make it a big thing, just trying to make sure she is fine in the end. That is the best thing I have heard from anyone our age about that stuff. I hope my brother somewhat things like that when he’s older.” Now Steve is blown by what I’m saying. Like he didn’t expect me to be nice. Maybe he was expecting hostility from me, but I don’t want to be that person.

The car stops, I turn and see my house.

“Thank you for the ride.” I turn and give him a smile.

He raises his hand a little bit of the arm rest somewhat giving a wave trying to say, ‘No problem.’

“If you ever want to talk to anyone, I mean about anything. You can come over. Or wait,” trying to find something to write with and write on. I found a napkin and a pen. I write down my number on it. “You can call me, just 2 friends talking about their lives.” I hand him the napkin. He looks at it.

“Thank you for that. I will most likely call you later when all this blows over and I can actually comprehend my feelings of this.” He says while still looking at and then looking at me.

I launch at him and give him a quick hug.

“I’m sorry, I’ll always answer. Don’t hesitate.” Giving him a pat on the back. He finally accepts my arms around him. He rubs his arms on my back. We stay for a minute.

We let go and I look at him.

“I thought you wouldn’t have changed.”

“I thought you would be the same.”

They both mean the same thing technically, but to us it means something different.

We stare at each other for another moment.

Then I realize we’ve been staring to long and snap myself out of it.

I gave him a quick ‘bye,’ and a wave and headed into the house. I turn and see him driving off. Having somewhat of a blush on my face.

Well, he definitely changed, but in the good way.

#steve harrington #steve #harrington #fluff #steve fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #yn #pov #henderson!reader #reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x you #you #fanfic

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orchestratedemotion · 11 months

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i was tagged by @thetightwhiteshirt !

are you named after anyone? My first name is my own, one of my middle names is my mum’s mum and one is a feminine derivative of my dad’s dad.

when was the last time you cried? Oh, yesterday. Absolutely. It’s finals week in my 2nd last semester, I haven’t slept and I’m waiting on job offers. I don’t know if I’m moving interstate or not, life is WEIRD right now!

do you have kids? No, and I don’t want them. I do want more pets!

do you use sarcasm a lot? Oh for sure

what sports do you play/have you played? Orchestra was my sport. I did a little bit of gymnastics and swimming but stopped when I was still pretty young. It was a sports or music situation in my household. I didn’t start following sports at all until I was an adult, 16 year old me would drop dead if you told her I’m basically a sports blog now!

what’s the first thing you notice about other people? ... I genuinely can’t think of an answer for this one. How open and approachable they seem, maybe?

scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, I’m an absolute wimp who can’t do horror!

any special talents? Getting a science degree when I’m really an arts kid. Hyperfixating on the most ‘some guy’ middle aged man you’ve ever seen and driving my friends insane about it.

where were you born? Rural Australia

what are your hobbies? Thirsting over men on the internet, going to as many musicals and concerts as humanly possible, having symphony season tickets, looking at my instruments saying ‘I’ll play again one day’, buying books I don’t have time to read.

do you have any pets? Not with me, sadly. My parents have my 12 year old ginger cat (baby boyyyy!) and 8 year old black cat (who’s decided he hates me since I moved away a few years ago). I MISS MY PETS!

how tall are you? 5'4

fave subject in school? Music, English, Biology

dream job? I do not dream of labour, I do dream of travelling. In fantasy, an orchestral musician who plays for film scores. In reality, I’m aiming for a genetic counselling masters and think it’ll be fulfilling! Also the typical ‘I want to own a book store/record store/florist/bakery/cafe in one’. Is that a burnout symptom???

eye colour? Blue

i'm double tagging @formationlaps (no pressure ofc!) and tagging anyone else who wants to let me be nosy!

#I love these!#Ask games #Tag games #About me #Text post

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mymindisacage · 1 month

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A DAISY PUSHER — CHAPTER TWO

The Painting at the End of the Stairs

Word Count: 5,964

description: sylvia goes away for the week.

a/n: hey guys please tell me if theres inconsistencies in my writing. usually theres a literal month or two between when i write each chapter because i forget my book exists and im worried i forget things ive solidified in canon... please do enjoy this because i keep forgetting abt this even though its my lifes work...........

“—And I told her that she can suck my big fat balls.” Anastasia chuckled.

“You don’t have balls, Anastasia,” I responded.

“The point still stands, you weirdo.”

“Yeah, stop being a big fat party pooper, Syl’,” Emily told me.

I picked up my lunch. I had a homemade ham and cheese sandwich, pineapple chunks, and a bag of salted almonds. Zorion always tried to convince me that the school lunch was the best thing on the planet, but I never believed him. During freshman year, I got food poisoning from the school’s food. I don’t remember what it was, but it was gross.

“Sylvia,” Klara started, chewing and covering her mouth. “Did anything cool happen in class today?”

“Um…” I mumbled.

“While we’re young, Sylvia.” Anastasia groaned.

“Sorry. Some girls looked at me like I stabbed their mother when I walked into the bathroom. They were doing their makeup or something, I don’t remember.”

“Wow, I hate chicks like that.” Emily nodded.

“Thank god I use the dude’s restroom.” Zorion groaned. “They just fingerboard on my stall and turn all the lights off.”

“Whoa. They do what?” I gaped.

“They… fingerboard and turn all the lights off?”

“Yeah, why?”

“They’re crazy.”

“God, dudes are scary—”

“Oh, that’s not even it!”

“Here we go again…”

“I remember in eighth grade, some kids would run full-force at the door. The locks rarely ever worked, so a lot of the time they’d just burst in while I was trying to take a shit. Now, because I’m trans, they were probably just attacking me because they recognized me by my shoes. Middle school dudes are a million times worse than high school dudes because they have so many of the worst aspects one could have. Audacity.”

“At least dudes let you know they hate you.” Anastasia groaned, talking while chewing. “Chicks just stare at you and giggle.”

“Anastasia, I hope you get jumped today.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

I looked over at everyone else’s plates as they talked. They were nearly finished with their lunches, and I was barely starting. I took nibbles at my sandwich, but I wasn’t particularly thrilled to eat it. I took the fork out of my lunchbox and began eating my pineapple chunks, but I still wouldn’t eat them. I just sat and played with them.

I ended up eating my bag of almonds. I never got hungry during school. I had a small stomach and quickly digested food, so I wasn’t very suited for meals. I snacked through the day. People would say it wasn’t healthy for me, but I tried to mix in fruits and nuts and lunch meat during the day. I would always eat what people deemed sides at meals because the main dishes were harsh on my stomach. I always felt rude.

I zipped my sandwich back into its bag and closed the plastic container my pineapple was in, zipping it into my lunchbox. I kept my almonds out and munched on them as the chatter filled my ears and I sat, listening.

“My brother got a girlfriend.�� Emily groaned.

“Woah, woah,” Anastasia gaped. “You have a brother?”

“Anastasia. You have been friends with me since you were in elementary school. Tell me you know my goddamn brother.”

“Dude,” Klara cackled, banging on the table. “You didn’t know about her brother?”

“No?” Anastasia responded, shock filling her face. “Who the hell is he?”

“He’s probably in your classes. He’s that ginger Freshman.” Emily told her.

Emily sat up from her place in her seat and looked around the cafeteria so she could search for her brother. She sat down and began speaking again.

“Okay, Anastasia,” Klara said, turning around and pointing. “Look for a tall, skinny, ginger kid over yonder.”

“Um…” Anastasia mumbled. “Holy shit, Andrew’s your brother?”

“What, you know him?”

“Yeah, my girl Savannah is dating him.”

“Oh, my god. Small world, I guess.”

“We live in the middle of nowhere. It is a small world.”

I checked my watch. It read twelve thirteen, which was two minutes before lunch ended. I began putting my things away and into my bag, and everyone at the table followed. I wouldn’t tell them, but I loved eating with them. I loved sitting with them and learning about how Anastasia didn’t know Emily’s brother until now. I was grateful to have friendship, no matter how little I showed it to others.

“Guys, I’m going to my class,” I began. “I’ll see you later.”

I began walking, but Zorion followed.

“Don’t forget, you have little ol’ me in your fifth period!” He beamed.

“Thanks, Zorion,” I mumbled. “You ruined math class for me.”

I walked to class as he rambled on about things I didn’t care enough about to take an interest in on my own, but he was my brother. I cared about what he liked, so I let him ramble.

“So me and Klara—” He started.

“Klara and I, Zorion.” I corrected him.

“Klara and I were hanging out yesterday, remember? We went to McDonald’s or Wendy’s or something…”

“You went to Subway, Zorion.”

“Same thing!”

“Those aren’t remotely similar.”

“They sell sandwiches. We were at Subway and I was eating my footlong, and we were talking about something I don’t remember, but the funniest song came on over the speakers while I was talking, so we just stared at each other for a few seconds before I started laughing. Then, I started choking on my sandwich.”

“Ah. That was so interesting, thank you for that.”

“Dude, you’re so mean to me sometimes, you—”

He ran into the door trying to turn into it. It swung in his face because it didn’t have a stopper.

“Ow! Fuck, that hurt!” He whimpered, holding his head in his hands.

“Language, Zorion.” I reminded him, hitting his arm.

“Oh, bite me.”

We walked to our table, where we sat next to each other. He sat to my left. I unpacked the contents of my backpack needed for math class. My graph paper notebook, pencil case, and laptop. Zorion seemed neglectful of what he had to do in that class and was doodling on his hand with a dry-erase marker. The teacher started attendance and Zorion continued doodling with his chin against the table. It was astonishing how he could sit like that all day. Though he did have horrible back pain he made a point of complaining about it, so it’s not like he’s free of ailments.

“Sylvia? Sylvia Becker?” The teacher called.

“Oh, I’m here,” I replied, shooting my hand up.

“Okay. Zoe Becker?”

“I’m here,” Zorion mumbled, putting his head down on the table.

I looked at him. He congested his posture and moved his hands to the top of his head, clutching his hair lightly and letting his cheek rest on the cold table. I put my hand on his back and patted him gently. I tried to be comforting.

“It’s— I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

I wanted to say “It’s okay”, but it wasn’t okay. He had told the teacher many times about his name since the first day of school, even emailing his teachers in advance. He tried so hard just for that to happen. It wasn’t okay.

“No, it’s not your fault,” He mumbled. “Don’t be sorry, Syl’.”

“Oh, sorry.”

I did it again. I would always apologize to people. I would apologize to the point where sorry wasn’t a word I meant anything through anymore. He sat up and began rummaging through his backpack for something. He pulled his sketchbook out and began doodling when the teacher began her lesson. I watched Zorion doodle for quite some time as the teacher gave us notes to take. He poured his feelings into art, I knew he did.

I never had anything to pour my feelings into. I had music, but I couldn’t write music if my life depended on it. I often tried to explain my feelings through instrumental songs, ones where the guitars told the story. Or I had songs where the lyrics were there for the ambiance.

We were told to pull our computers out, and I followed through. Zorion did too, but he was way more off-task than I was. He just sat and played MineSweeper or other games, while I tried to do my work.

Maybe I poured my feelings into my work. I would often find myself doing my homework, a habit many wished for. I would put everything I had into my work because it was all I had. In band, I tried so hard to be the best trumpet player in the band. I dreamt of going into drum corps, but those programs exceeded four thousand dollars.

I looked again at Zorion to see him asleep on his desk. His head was in between the nook of his arms and the back of his pink head of hair faced me. I could hear him breathing, but I could hear everybody breathing. I decided to leave him alone.

Students began to pack up their belongings as the clock ticked ever closer to the end of fifth period, so I nudged Zorion on his shoulder and he shot up, mumbling about something he was dreaming about. He packed up his things quickly and stood by the door, waiting as if nothing had happened. I rushed to meet with him and he was swaying on his feet.

“That’s so embarrassing!” He groaned.

“You just fell asleep,” I muttered. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyways—” He said, getting cut off by the bell as students began filing out. “—See you at home.”

“Bye, Zorion,” I responded.

I had one more class to get through. American Sign Language II. If I could just get through sixth period, I would be free to go home. I didn’t have a seventh period class, I made it so I wouldn’t. I took four core classes and two electives, but Marching Band gave me credit for P.E., so I didn’t take it. However, during concert season, I had zero period, so a free seventh period didn’t really shorten my school day, it just kept them at their usual time.

I sat at my desk and listened to the teacher bore on to those who would listen, while occasionally reminding the class that she was the one in charge. Next to me were people whispering to each other in an attempt not to get caught by the teacher, but we all knew it was them filling the classroom with noise. It was always so painfully obvious who was talking that whispering was just for fun at that point.

Eventually, the class began to pack up and I finally got the chance to be alone. Emily had a free period the year before, but her ambitions were not fit for a seven-period schedule, so she took the extra class: Psychology. I’d wanted to take it, but the class was limited to Juniors and Seniors.

I pulled my headphones over my head as I left campus, walking at what I deemed a “leisurely pace”. I made my way through campus and left the doors of the school and began enjoying the scenery of the outside world. Despite what everyone else thought, I could hear through my headphones, and I heard my name through muffled conversation.

“Dude… Sylvia’s right there!” I caught through the muffled noise of my headphones, prompting me to turn the song off and walk slowly so I could hear them.

“Shut up, she can’t hear us,” The second voice said. “She has her headphones on.”

I turned my head around to see Zorion and Anastasia, who appeared to be walking somewhere I wasn’t going. We made brief eye contact before Anastasia and Zorion attempted to run off, but Anastasia fell flat on her face in the wet grass.

“God dammit!” She yelped, shooting up and clutching her skirt in her hands. “Is my hair okay?”

“Is it ever okay?” Zorion laughed.

“Shut up, Zorion,” She spat, turning to me. “If you say anything to Ma, you’re dead.”

“You guys do know I don’t care if you ditch, right?” I interjected, staring at Anastasia.

“Oh. C’mon Zorion, let’s go.”

“Ope, bye, Sylvia!” Zorion grinned, running off.

They always saw me as this rule-abiding saint, when that wasn’t who I was. I wasn’t the kid to remind you of the syllabus or the student handbook, I would just mind my own business; It’s what worked best for me. To stay as inconspicuous as possible and go unnoticed was often the ‘goal’ of the social aspect of school, as I never liked people having opinions about me.

Of course, school was more than that to me, I loved many aspects of school. I loved band, I loved math, and I loved things that made sense to me. I loved performing. When I said that, nobody would understand, but I loved performing. I lived for performance. Since Freshman year, I have found an unusual fondness for field shows. I loved field show and the nature of tournaments.

As I walked down residential roads, the trees narrowed in closer to the street, the leaves covering the hot September sun. Though, at the end of this street, there was a blinking stop sign. It ruined the general look of the street, but what did I care?

Cars revved by me and I passed other students, students I recognized and could tell you nothing about. Parents parked on this street, so I passed many students sitting on the curb in front of houses, or maybe standing on the sidewalk. I walked home, I loved walking. Marching band combined with my love to walk gave me chiseled, masculine calves. I wasn’t fond of it.

Soon enough, I pushed my way onto my street and entered through the back to see someone I didn’t expect to see so early. My mother.

“Mom?” I mumbled, wondering why she was home so early. Worrying why she was home so early. “What happened, are you okay?”

I set my things down as she began to talk, her accent thin from her time in the Midwest. While it had been spread out over time, her dull tone still revealed her Russian heritage when she said certain words.

“Nothing, Sylvia, it is nothing.” She said, shooing me away. “We’ll talk later, I am on the phone.”

“Oh. Okay.” I muttered, picking my things off the floor.

Ma began shuffling papers together, and I noticed a picture frame on the table before it quickly joined her pile. I looked around and a frame from above the television was missing. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what the picture was, thinking for a few seconds to no avail. I turned to the stairs and for the first time noticed the painting. It was a grayscale image of a living room with a colored, glowing bassinet in the middle. In the bottom right was a signature, the signature of my mother.

I walked up to my room, ignoring the painting as it took a permanent space in my subconscious. I changed into flowier clothes that allowed me to lounge better, consisting of no shirt, a sweater, and no pants. I lay on my bed and quickly escaped into unconsciousness. The bed, blanket, and pillow wrapped around me as my body consumed my conscious mind in its effort to recharge.

To no surprise, I was awoken too soon by Zorion calling my name. I checked my clock and it was four o'clock. I grumbled, itching my eyes, and Zorion called my name and ordered me to come downstairs. I, somewhat begrudgingly, left my bed and grabbed a skirt from my dresser. As I ran down the stairs, I pulled it over my legs and fastened the zipper. I glanced at the painting again. It had gained a residence in my mind until I talked about it. I stood next to the stairs and Zorion, Anastasia, and Ma were sitting on the couch.

“Dude, finally, Ma said she wanted to tell us something,” Zorion groaned, putting his phone down. “Sylvia, this is an intervention!”

“No it’s not, Zorion, please be serious,” Ma scolded with her hands in her lap. “Sit down, Sylvia.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said, finger-combing my hair and sitting down on the couch.

She cleared her throat and began talking. “I know you all noticed I am home quite early, and I have called you here to tell you that you are going to need to take the next few days off of school. I am traveling abroad to take care of family business, simply formalities. You three will be staying with your uncle.”

Groans emerged from Zorion and Anastasia, while I remained unphased.

“Uncle Nick, Ma?” Zorion whined, clutching his face and throwing his head off of the arm of the loveseat he was lying on.

“Yes, and you need to stop complaining or I will make your stay much worse. I have emailed your teachers and they said that you can do your work online and that any tests will be made up next week because I know you three would not do it if I did not.”

I got the point. We would go to Uncle Nick’s for four days, not including Tuesday night and Sunday morning. Zorion and Anastasia complained as Ma rattled on about how she hadn’t seen her family in decades, but I snapped back to the conversation when Ma started talking about packing bags.

“If you three would pack now and we leave by five, I will pick up dinner for you.”

“Ooh! Guys, hurry, I want Sonic.” Anastasia yelped, running up to her room.

“Hell no! I want chicken!” Zorion yelled, following suit.

I hated chicken. It was rarely made well and was often too dry and stringy for my liking. I did not want chicken, but I also didn’t want to go to Uncle Nick’s, so I assume nobody gets what they want in this world. I quickly rushed to my room and began packing. I brought a jacket, two sweaters, six shirts, four pairs of pants, two pairs of shorts, eight pairs of underwear and five bras. I packed my school computer, school binder, music binder, and sketchbook, as well as my trumpet. I brought chargers for my phone, computer, and headphones, as well as an extra phone charger in case Zorion or Anastasia needed one.

I walked downstairs to wait on the couch to see that Zorion had finished before I did. I sat down and put my hands on my lap.

“Zorion, did you pack?” I queried.

“Yeah, why do you think I’m here?” He scoffed.

I picked up his duffle bag and it felt like the only thing in it was his computer and a pair of socks.

“Zorion, what’s in this?”

“Clothes, my laptop, chargers.”

“How many shirts?”

“One.” He said, not looking up from his phone.

“One? One?”

“Yeah, the two I’m wearing now equals three but...”

“Did you pack any underwear?”

“Yeah. Two pairs.”

“Two?! You are insufferable.”

“Well… front side, backside, inside-out, backside inside out? A single item of clothing can last me a week as long as I shower.”

“Shut up, Zorion.”

Time went by. When I sat on the couch, it was four thirty-six, and the clock ticked to five, and when it hit four fifty, I called for Anastasia.

“Anastasia, come down!” I called.

“Wait, I’m almost done!” She huffed loudly.

“You’re not even finished?” Zorion laughed.

Anastasia came barreling downstairs, holding her bag across her body. She was leaning as if when she stood up straight she’d fall over.

“Anastasia, what is in there?” I groaned.

“Huh..?” She mumbled, blinking quickly at me before responding. “Oh! My bag, my bag! Yeah, I packed clothes, makeup, clothes… Um… A jacket.”

“Gosh… Am I the only sensible person right now?” I groaned, holding the bridge of my nose. “Ma, we’re done!”

“Good, please get in the car,” Ma called from her room, audibly gathering her things.

Anastasia, Zorion, and I ran out to the car, Zorion, and Anastasia arguing over the front seat. Ma came out, her suitcase in hand. She clicked her keys, unlocking the driver’s seat.

“Mom, can I have the front seat?” Zorion whined.

“No, I want it!” Anastasia cried.

“Neither of you two gets it now, Sylvia can sit up front,” Ma said coldly.

Thank the stars. I would always get nauseous if I sat in the backseat. As Ma opened the trunk, she unlocked the other doors of the car. I preferred to sit with my things, but the others put them in the back. We started driving and Zorion and Anastasia argued about where they wanted to eat, but Ma pulled into Sonic, not bothering to ask anybody in the car.

“Hell yeah!” Anastasia exclaimed, telling Ma her exact order.

Zorion groaned, but I just zoned out before telling my mother that I wanted a corn dog. After I ate my food, I sank into my seat and shut my eyes, longing for the touch of sleep once again. My eyes drifted back into my skull as the dark vignette of sleep consumed my brain.

“Sylvia, wake up, we are here.” My mother whispered, shaking me lightly.

“Huh..?” I mumbled, opening my eyes. “Oh. Uncle Nick’s.”

I grabbed my things and checked my watch. It read seven forty-eight. I shuffled the limbs of my body to wake them up, quickly grabbing my bag off the floor of the car and stepping out. Anastasia stood with her arms crossed, making quiet conversation with Zorion as they both awaited being let into the house.

The sun just barely dipped below the horizon, painting streaks of pink across the sky before fading off into a deep blue. The dark, warm air hugged my skin as I mindlessly approached Zorion and Anastasia. They were rattling on about how much they wanted to go back home until someone emerged from the front door of the house. It was Nicolai.

He said nothing, simply gestured that we could come in with his hand, and went back inside. His dark blonde hair was gelled down to his scalp and he wore a light blue button-up shirt with a pair of khaki dress pants. He walked back into the house and the three of us followed quickly.

“Fuck, man, I don’t want to be here.” Zorion groaned quietly.

“Shh… Shh…” Anastasia hushed. “He’s right there.”

A chill ran through my spine as we walked into the front door and we were all addressed.

“Zoechka, Silvushka, Nastya! Hello, you three.” Uncle Nicolai spoke. His use of diminutives showed his love for us, as they were used with affection.

His accent was thick, and as the feeling of uncertainty and distance set in, I felt alone. I felt different. Different from everyone in my whole family, my whole world. He stood next to the stove, cooking what was dinner for seven.

“Masha, you are here.” He smiled, his face lighting up.

My mother’s name was Mariya, but her family referred to her as Masha. His tone had more inflection than I had ever heard in a voice like his as he talked with my mother in Russian. His cold expression was one I couldn’t read, one I couldn’t learn. Ma’s, however, was distressed as she rambled on with only simple words flooding to me as she spoke.

Uncle Nick simply looked at his son to signal to him what he wanted, and he followed his silent request. He shooed us out of the kitchen, pushing us to the living room. Amelia sat on a cushion closest to the wall on the couch that faced the back windows. As Zorion and Anastasia sat on the couch, she tensed in fear at the sudden interruption.

“Oh. Hello, you two.” She grinned, her soft voice reflecting an accent as well.

They clamored on, but I quickly sat down at a chair facing the living room entrance. Nicolai stood to the right of it, the side without couches, with his hands behind his back. He had a cold expression on his face as he stood, looking dead as always. His face resembled his father's every time I saw him.

As I stared more and more intensely, we locked eyes. I quickly looked away, making sure I couldn’t see any part of his body at all. I did the one thing I could do: Pull my headphones over my head and play on my phone. I was always the outcast. Unlike Nicolai, who had things to do and people to relate to, I had nothing and nobody. Nothing to do and nobody to relate to.

I wasn’t tired. I’d slept so many times that day that sleep became something unimportant to me. I stared off into space as I fully grasped the situation around me as if my eyes were sucked into my brain for just a brief moment, but I was finally alive and could process what was going on. My mind rattled, a disgusting, eerie sound, as my mind raced, yet I came up fruitless. No reasons could come to my mind as to why I was there.

Then, it clicked in my mind. The one person I was sure knew was Nicolai. Yet he saw me as someone otherworldly, not in a good way. He saw everyone as inferior, especially women, so getting a straight answer out of him would be one of the hardest social interactions I’d have to have. I had to do it, though, and I knew I would.

Eventually, I mustered up what little courage I had to talk to the one relative my age who genuinely frightened me. I got up from my seat in the oddly comfortable chair I was sitting in and approached Nicolai, still standing next to the doorway.

“What do you want?” He spat, his cold gaze unmoving. His accent was nearly as thick as his father’s.

“Why am I here?” I asked, quietly. “Why are any of us here?”

Nicolai physically turned his head to look at me, and the look he wore was pure disgust and shock.

“Do not act that way, Sylvia, you are not dumb.” He said, looking away from me and back to the wall. He was ungiving.

“Listen, you need to tell me, I don’t under—”

“You do not understand? What is there not to understand?”

“Hey don’t cut me off.”

“Sylvia, you will follow the same path your father has. It has been laid out in front of you like a devastating work of art.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“If you are too idiotic to understand that, I guess you are just like him. Now, get.” He shooed me off with his hands, but I remained relentless and stood where I was.

“What do you not understand, Sylvia? Get.”

“No! Not until you tell me what is going on here.”

He looked at me weirdly before he called his father in his mother tongue, something about dinner. Quickly, he left his post next to the entryway and went into the kitchen to set up the dinner table. Zorion, Anastasia, and Amelia sat on the couch, laughing. I sat quietly next to them on the floor, playing with my hair.

“Look who joined the party!” Anastasia laughed.

“Hi, Amelia,” I said, ignoring Anastasia.

“Hello, Silvushka!” Amelia responded, her face lighting up. “Oh, you three, it is almost dinner time, I see Kolya setting up the table.”

She had referred to me with a diminutive, which warmed me, as I knew the history behind them. It took me a bit to understand who Kolya was, but I saw Nicolai setting up the table in the background. It was a weird nickname in my opinion, as it had a K and a Y, and completely rearranged the other letters of his name.

She got up from her seat and I looked at what she was wearing. She wore a black, short-sleeved button-up and an ankle-length, brown, pleated skirt. Her wavy, brunette hair was different from her brother's straight blonde hair, something I had never noticed before. It was shoulder length, but the back was up in a small tuft of a ponytail. She clearly hadn’t brushed her hair in a few days, but I understood. Hair is awful, sometimes.

She made an indiscernible conversation with her father, who just stared at her with the same look Nicolai had looked at me. It was like it was genetic, the only face the two of them could make. His son, however, walked not past the entrance of the kitchen to alert us that dinner was ready and that we needed to come to the table.

As I sat at the dinner table, my body tensed. The atmosphere was rigid and thick like I was swimming in snow. There was a bench that touched the wall, two chairs facing the wall, and two more chairs on the sides of the table. I sat in the chair closest to the basement, the one on the side of the table. Ma was sitting to my right in a chair, and as everyone picked their seats, Uncle Nicolai began serving food in the seven bowls his son had laid out.

Nicolai sat down before the other three did, and he stared at me the whole time. He looked at me above his glasses, which had a beaded chain that went around his neck. For the brief moment we locked eyes, I felt uneasy.

Zorion sat next to me, Anastasia sat next to him, and Amelia sat next to her. Unlike Zorion and Anastasia, she was silent. Her hands were on the table, staring blankly. As Uncle Nicolai finally plated his bowl of food, he somewhat awkwardly patted my mother’s back. Something was wrong. I knew something was wrong and I didn’t know. I didn’t know what was wrong.

“Masha would like to speak about our arrangement before we begin eating.” Uncle Nicolai said, sitting down.

“Yes, I would, thank you,” Ma said. “I know I haven’t always been on the… best terms with my family, so you three have my eternal gratitude for taking care of my children on such short notice. I am leaving for Germany to take care of family business tomorrow morning. I expect you three to respect my brother and the rules of his home, please.”

Uncle Nicolai made a gesture, in which Amelia and Nicolai started eating. I followed, picking at the odd sausage and gravy mixture in my bowl. Chatter made its way across the table, but it wasn’t much. Somehow, even Zorion and Anastasia were reduced to whispers. The loudest anyone would talk was Uncle Nicolai scolding anybody who put their elbows on his table.

Amelia and Zorion ate quickly like they had somewhere to be. Nicolai, much like his mannerisms, ate slowly, yet faster than I did. Ma ate with haste, as she did have somewhere to be in the morning. As Zorion and Amelia finished their food, the four others were only halfway done. I, however, wasn’t close to halfway done. As everyone finished their dinner, I found myself just halfway done with my food, eventually sitting alone at the table.

“Uncle Nicolai, I can’t eat all this food,” I mumbled.

“I made that for you, you will sit at this table until you are done.” He said coldly.

“Kolka, she has a small stomach,” Ma said, washing her dish.

“No, Masha, she will eat what I made for her.”

“You’ve always been like this Nicolai, you won’t listen.”

They continued to fight in Russian as I tried to eat the rest of my soup, but my mother took it from me.

“Sylvia, I’ll eat it,” She said, a cold smile on her face. “Please, go set up in the living room, it’s almost time for bed.”

I hurried off in fear to the living room, where Anastasia was blowing up an air mattress she pulled out of god knows where. I stared blankly as she pumped air into the mattress, Amelia bouncing her hands on it every few seconds.

“Oh my— Anastasia, where did you get that?” I sighed.

“Well,” She giggled. “If it matters so much, I brought it. This couch messes up my back.”

“Dude. You brought a whole mattress?”

“Yeah. Are you mad you have to sleep on the furniture?”

“No.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Anastasia set the pump down and lay on the mattress, loudly groaning. She was trying to flaunt her one smart moment to everyone.

“Oh, you three, it is time for bed. Goodnight.” Amelia sputtered, rushing to her room as quickly as she could without running.

The heels of Nicolai’s shoes clicked quietly against the wood of the hallway, and he quietly walked off to his room. As the noise from the four of us died down, the hushed argument from the kitchen dripped into the living room. I listened, trying to understand what little words I knew, but Zorion and Anastasia were too loud.

“Shut up Zorion!” Anastasia giggled, bouncing on her bed.

“You shut up, this is why you’re adopted!” Zorion spat back.

“Oh my god,” Anastasia gasped satirically. “I’m adopted?”

The volume of her statement was unknown to herself and even Zorion, who kept talking. I, however, noticed that once Anastasia said what she said, the argument stopped. The hard clacks of Uncle Nicolai’s shoes were much different than his son’s, though it might have been because he was upset.

“We do not yell past ten.” He yelled, quite hypocritically.

Anastasia stared and nodded her head, while Zorion fiddled with his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Anastasia mumbled.

Uncle Nicolai scoffed and turned the ceiling light off, walking to his room. He left Ma in the kitchen, but I didn’t want to wait for her to come out. Zorion turned onto his side, looking away from us and onto the couch. Anastasia tossed and turned until Ma came into the doorway, where she shot up.

“Goodnight, you three.” She whispered, walking off.

“Night, Ma,” Zorion mumbled, somehow already nearing sleep.

I said nothing. I sat upright for some time, listening to Anastasia tossing around and Zorion’s soft snoring. Honestly, some would just describe it as heavy breathing. The shirt I wore irritated my neck, but no matter how many times I pulled it away from me, it came back just as fast. I laid down on the throw pillow on the couch, too lazy to bring out my own.

I stared at the ceiling. It wasn’t mine, it was different. The couch wasn’t mine, the room wasn’t mine. None of this was as familiar as my room and that made it so hard to sleep no matter my exhaustion. I was always like this when I went to someone’s house, but it was worse here because I couldn’t stay up until I dropped, I had things to do.

The air conditioning whirred, Anastasia mumbled, and Zorion breathed. So many noises in that one room accompanied by the sound of my breathing was too much to handle. I reached for my phone and headphones on the floor. In the time it took me to turn my headphones on and play music through them, my heartbeat was strong and I was sweating cold.

Soft guitar filled my ears, and while the shirt still bothered my neck, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything outside of what I was doing. I stared at the ceiling once more, longing for my room. The longest week of my life was ahead of me, I knew it.

#꒰ a daisy pusher ꒱#— 🌐 ꒰ chapter ꒱#original work #original story #original character lore #original character #oc #oc lore #writer #artist #fiction #writeblr #creative writing #content creation

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watery-pancake · 2 months

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A Look Back at Growing Up

I think I had a decent chance at being popular. It's not as if I'm unshapely, something my low self confidence can even admit. With makeup I could fake the look of natural beauty, and hours of effort could make my hair look decent. Even now that I'm in college with wearing casual clothing, I look less put up than I did back in high school, and get hit on.

I wonder how I would have ended up if I wasn't abused. It still feels strange to say that, or to admit it to any degree. I remember as a kid watching animations and stories of abuse and finding a solemn comfort into it, but always saying how what I was experiencing wasn't nearly bad enough to compare.

I remember in elementary school when I made my first friend, Michael. He invited me to hang out, and my mom said no. Not allowed to make friends. It was later in middle school that a girl told me she put an invite to her birthday party in my mailbox, but I never received it. I told her it must have gotten lost, but she herself it it in there. I found out then that the only other option was that my mother threw it out. I couldn't even have birthday parties or be allowed to be invited to any, despite my brother having free reign. By high school I was extremely lonely. You can only go so many years of not being allowed to leave the house, hours and days and weeks and months of stuck within the 4 walls of my room before my social skills became that of a toddler. Every ounce of attention from a friend I was desperate for. It was to the degree that a girl I befriended back in elementary school told me to leave her alone since she was being called a loser for having me trail behind her. She begged me not to cry. I cried, and she didn't comfort me. She awkwardly walked away, and everyone in the recess field looked at me a freak.

Highschool came around and I had just cut off all my friends from middle school. I was terrified of how close I was to them. I self sabotaged everything. With Tristen, I fell in love with her and I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle having a person who actively enjoyed my time. It destroyed me mentally and I exploded. It makes sense why she ghosted me. For Sam, I replaced her with online friends. I was devastated for 8 months after my first relationship, and she told me if we didn't talk every day, we might as well not even be friends. Even when I tried to rekindle the friendship a year later, she treated me as if I was a stranger. Her family still loved me, but she replaced me with her new guy best friend. I was easy to replace to her, first with our mutual friend, then her new ginger friend, then him. I was fun when she was bored, but any more? Not so much. For Jenna, she switched high schools, so we only saw each other so often. I was truly alone, Covid didn't help. I spent hours and hours alone in my room. Even in middle school, alone in my room. In elementary school, alone in my room. Any attempt to leave would be met with my family yelling at me for doing *something* wrong, or being fat, or being stupid, or just being a punching bag for whatever problem they had, which was the most common one.

At that rate, I preferred the solitude. The constant berating and fear of my own family made me fearful of any person, and Sam and Tristen had only proved my point. I would be used or use, which too destroyed me mentally. Any attention I wanted I sought after online, since at least if I messed up I could block and delete them and forget it. I never did, I was only on the hurting end, since it was so much easier to be myself when I wasn't physically looking at someone and being scared of what they could do. I learned how to function as a human online, and when college came around, it was just enough.

It'll never stop haunting me. How for years and years I've had to get over my trauma and fear of people. How I've trained myself all the way from being able to go outside my door. I used to be scared of going in my front yard. Years of trauma of being watched for my every move and unable to move comfortably... to this day I still feel like I have a camera secretly placed somewhere watching me, judging me. Maybe it's just mental illness. I don't know how else to explain it, since being a kid every single thing I did was wrong. Now I watch myself. Then I tried walking the park across my house. I remember covering my entire body in sweatpants and a sweatshirt and a hat, feeling ridiculously embarrassed that I'm existing in public. Then was the grocery store, where I would train myself by buying a single energy drink while on a call with internet friends for moral support. Eventually, I could just leave the house (with permission) but be able to go outside without going into a complete panic attack.

But yet, now, even now, I'm stunted. I'm having all these new experiences with friends, but it's happening again. Getting fucked over by terrible people, as it always happens. It's making me recluse myself, removing people off social media, only speaking when spoken to. It's terrifying me, that I'm regressing. I once the other day stuttered as I ordered a grilled cheese and hot americano. I felt my heart jump with anxiety, not for social anxiety, I realized how terrified I was that I was going back to my old self. I never want to again. It scares me, so much, that a day will come again where the mere thought of stepping outside my door causes me to break into a full sweat.

I'm doing better. I'll keep doing better. I can't go back, ever again.

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spookman404 · 1 year

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The Library NaNoWriMo C1 11/11/22

Mason’s dad. The Hunt Woods murders. The Hag of Shoal Creek Manor? Really? I’ve read all those stories before; they weren’t what I was looking for. I needed something new. It’s been a while since I’d stumbled on something I hadn’t already read through. I flicked further back in time, the newspapers swapping out as the years counted back.

“Seen it, seen it, seen it.” I thought to myself.

After a few more minutes of doom scrolling I finally admitted defeat. I don’t really know if I should be proud or ashamed, but I’m convinced I’d finally read the entirety of the town’s archive, well everything that wasn’t painfully boring at least. Either way, I shouldn’t get bent out of shape about it, it was bound to happen eventually considering how long I’ve been coming here. I’m honestly surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

I leaned back in my chair to take a break and give my eyes a rest. I’d been staring at the old dingy microfilm at the back of the library for a good two hours now, flipping through newspapers dating all the way back to a time when newspapers were still cutting edge. That’s how I spent most of my Sunday nights, most of my nights if I’m being painfully honest. I liked it. The library was like a musty second home to me. It was quiet, clean, and I knew most of the other regulars who would stop by. Just one quick glance around the room and I could spot a few regulars waiting out the clock until the place closed.

Mr. Rutherford sat in the same corner he always does, reading the same copy of war and peace he’s been trying to finish for weeks now. Mrs. Pickens was sat behind the counter grinding away at the next big Facebook game all the other grandma’s in town were hooked on. Even Buford and his mom were there. He couldn’t read yet but he liked to look at the covers.

As I looked around the room though, something out of the ordinary caught my eye. Something that I wasn’t used to seeing, not here. A flash of red just over top one of the bookshelves. A head of dyed ginger hair.

I felt a little rude staring, but I had no other choice, I needed to figure out who it was, because if it was who I thought it was, it meant I had to leave, fast. I watched as they picked out a book, giving me the tiniest glimpse of the person on the other side. It was her alright: Ginger Prescott.

I mentioned earlier that she was a little eccentric. Well, that didn’t go away, at least not at first. Ginger always loved making sure everyone was painfully aware that she was different. All throughout elementary school every few weeks she’d manage to dupe our class into thinking that she was the long lost heir to the coke empire, or princess diana’s next next next cousin. She’d change up the lie every so often once she got bored or when kids started getting too nosey, whichever came first. Once someone called her out on something she couldn’t prove, she’d move onto the next lie. The one thing she never let go of though, the one thing she insisted on everyone believing no matter what, was that she was psychic. I don’t know if she still does that. I doubt it. She was dragged through the ringer for it through middle school. It was so bad that she didn’t just drop her act, she flipped it on its head. She quickly learned that in highschool, she might not be able to convince people she could read minds, but she could sure as hell spread a rumor like wildfire. She could talk you inside and out, and have half the school talking about you too if you weren’t careful.

She was even the reason one of my old friends had to start homeschooling. Kate made the mistake of crossing her when she asked the boy Ginger was after out to prom. The day after the night in question, Ginger made sure the whole school knew Kate had blacked out, which was pretty taboo for freshmen, not so much anymore.

What I’m trying to say is, she scared me, which is why I panicked when she spotted me staring at her and sauntered her way down the aisle and towards my table.

“Hey. You’re Henry right? Henry Fitzgerald?”

I thought about lying, but I reminded myself that this town was way too small to pretend like I wasn’t who I was. Besides, her bullshit detector was top of the line. Even if I did have the guts to lie, she’d catch it.

“Yeah, that’s me.” I mumbled.

She shot me a smile. “Cool, I’m-”

“You’re Ginger,” I interrupted, “I know.”

I wasn’t trying to be rude, I was nervous. I hoped she realized that too. Either way, she was caught off guard.

“Oh, well do you mind if I sit down since we know each other?”

I glanced at the empty chair next to me and pulled my bag out of the seat. She sat down and dropped the book on the table. Moby Dick? I thought it was an odd choice. I always pinned her as the type to be into mystery novels or thrillers, not so much the classics.

I pointed at it and asked, “Do you like it so far?”

She glanced down at the book and said, “Oh, it’s not mine. I’m picking it up for a friend.”

“Well do they like it?”

She shrugged, “Probably. He’s rented it out more times than I can count. I keep telling him to just buy a copy but he refuses. He’s too stubborn to make the drive to the bookstore, but somehow he’s perfectly fine with driving here every few months to pick it back up.”

I tried to think of a way to draw the conversation out, but I fell short. Instead neither of us said anything for a moment. I knew what she was doing, she was letting me stew. She knew I wasn’t exactly exceptional at making small talk, but there was one thing she didn’t know.

We both might’ve changed a lot, but one thing stayed the same. I never bought into whatever she was trying to sell, be it her supposed extended royal family or her rumors. I never have, never will. I knew that whatever small talk she was trying to get through was only a front to something else. She wanted something from me, and that thought alone terrified me enough to keep my guard up.

“You hang out here a lot don’t you?” She said, taking another swing at the ice.

“Yep, I sure do.” I replied quickly.

She looked around, first at the books, then at the people, then back at me.

“Why?”

Ouch.

“I like it here. It’s nice.”

“Yeah, but what do you do here?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know, read?”

“Read what?”

“Books. Mostly old newspapers.”

She flared her eyes, “Exciting.”

Again, I could tell she was lying.

She let her eyes wander, this time keeping them close to the table.

“Is that what this machine is for? Looking at newspapers?”

“Yeah. It’s a microfilm.”

“Well, whatcha reading?”

I glanced down at the screen ‘couple killed in murder suicide’ not exactly the greatest thing to be caught in the middle of reading, “Nothing. Just some town history for a paper.”

She threw a thumb over her shoulder and asked, “Wouldn’t it be easier if you used one of those computers?”

The old computers she was referring to sat at the back of the room. There were three of them, and they were all built before the dawn of time. They were too slow to handle anything more than two tabs of firefox, she’d know that if she came here often, but she doesn’t so she didn’t.

“I’m old school. I like these better. I’ll zone out if I look at the computer. If I have to use the dials it forces me to stay focused. It’s kinda just my way of tricking my brain into paying attention.”

She looked me up and down, “That’s smart.”

She leaned in a little, “You’re pretty smart, aren't you?”

Did she really think I was that gullible? Flirting? Really? Should I be insulted? That was a low blow, even for her.

I leaned back, “Uh, yeah. I guess so.”

“Well,” She began, “Since you're so smart and you’re already working on a history paper, you wouldn’t mind helping me with a tiny history question would you?”

There it was. That’s what she was after. Now that I could see the light at the end of the tunnel I felt my shoulders relax a little.

“Sure, what do you need to know?”

She grinned, “What can you tell me about the Kincannon?”

Now that was one I hadn’t read in a while. The sinking of the Kincannon. A real classic. I thought it was a little weird that Ginger of all people wanted to know about it, but I didn’t really care, it was an excuse to revisit an old story, one I hadn’t read in a long time.

I couldn’t help it, I felt a matching grin tug at the corners of my mouth.

“Hold on a second.”

I turned my attention back to the microfilm. After sifting through the cards for a while, I finally found the one I was looking for. I slotted it in the machine and waited for it to whir to life. While I did, Ginger scooted her chair next to mine. I tried to catch her eyes, but she wouldn’t look away from the screen. When the paper finally came up, Ginger leaned in even closer, squinting her eyes. I then zoomed in on the start of the article and she sat back down. I sat in silence, patiently waiting for her to finish reading as her eyes darted back and forth across the page. She reached about to the middle of the paper when she leaned back and let out a sigh, “You know what, you’re dying to explain it anyway. I might as well let you do it.”

I felt my smile flicker a bit when she said that. I tried to tone down my excitement a little. I took a deep breath, leaned back in my chair, and told her everything I knew.

“The Kincannon, or the SS Gerard Kincannon if you want to be specific, was a freighter that used to make regular trips to the next town over back in the day. Seven hundred feet long and seventy feet wide, it was a monster, one of the largest ships on the great lakes at the time. For twenty years it was the lifeblood of port cities on the shores of Superior. The Kincannon and ships like it are the reason most of those little towns existed at all, ferrying precious metals from their mines so they could be sold.”

I could tell I was losing her. She didn’t need to butt in, but she did anyway.

“I’m sure that’s all very fascinating, but can we skip to the good parts?”

“Like what?”

“You know, the juicy stuff.” She flashed her eyebrows, “Like how it sunk.”

I was getting to that, but I guess I could shorten things a little. I shifted a bit in my chair and got ready to spin my tale.

“Well, it was a dark and stormy night.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I can’t help it, it was.” I apologized, “The night the Kincannon sunk was one of the worst storms seen this side of the upper peninsula in decades. We’re talking hurricane force winds, thirty foot waves, and freezing waters; About the worst conditions you could ever have to sail through. It’s during storms like those that the lake starts to eat ships, swallowing them whole; The Kincannon, was no exception.”

She leaned in a little closer.

“It was at the tail end of one of its last routes, sailing close to shore to try to make it to the docks in the next town over.”

“Agawa Bay?”

“Yeah, Agawa Bay.”

She scoffed, “Rich pricks.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “But they’re rich for a reason. The copper mines they have up there are the only reason the Kincannon bothered stopping at all. Every few months it would come back for a fresh shipment from the mines to go sell off, and every time it did it would pass by our town just close enough to see the lighthouse up on redfish point. That lighthouse between our two towns was the Kincannon's lifeline. In storms like the one it was in, you could hardly see much of anything at all. The coast was just a dark blob if you were lucky enough to be able to see it at all, the rain and the waves made sure of that, but as long as that lighthouse was on, sailors could manage to get to port in even the worst conditions.”

As I got into the meat of the story I really started to draw her in. Her eyes didn’t wander and her foot didn’t tap, not anymore.

“Now the captain of the Kincannon knew this. He’d been sailing for the majority of his life. He’d seen his fair share of storms, a few high waves and a little bit of rain wasn’t going to stop him from making the run he’d made thousands of times before. He made the mistake of believing he was unsinkable, and at the helm of a ship the size of the Kincannon, I don’t really blame him. He got cocky, or maybe he was jaded, either way the point is, he underestimated the lake, and that night the lake reminded him of his place.”

Ginger lifted a finger to the corner of her mouth and started to nip at her acrylic nails. I hadn’t seen her bite her nails since middle school. What was she so worried about? It was just a story. I thought about toning it down, but I couldn’t help myself, I was having too much fun.

“We don’t know what it was that physically sank the ship, we never will. It could’ve been a number of things. Could’ve been a rogue wave, or maybe it was high winds, or maybe they ran aground. Whatever it was, when the divers found it, it was in two pieces at the bottom of the lake, split down the middle in a mess of twisted metal. None of that matters though. It doesn’t matter how it sank, the part that’s really interesting is why it did.”

“The lighthouse.” She said, jumping the gun.

I nodded, “It went out. The bulb burst and for eight minutes, the Kincannon sailed blind. That was all it took. By the time the lighthouse keepers managed to fix the bulb, All 35 sailors were already treading water, watching their ship disappear beneath the waves bit by bit every time that light came back around. In just eight minutes, the lake swallowed the unsinkable vessel whole, and took every last man down with it.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, spooky stuff, but do you wanna know what really gets me?”

“What?” She asked, begging for more.

“Well, like every other tragedy in this town, the sinking of the Kincannon has a ghost story too. Rumor has it that if you take the long drive up to Redfish Point and you stand at the cliff’s edge during a storm, if you listen hard enough you can still hear the the sailors screams bleeding through the howl of the wind, and if you’re really lucky, you might even catch a glimpse of the ship itself; sailing in two halves in between the flash of lightning strikes.”

“Bullshit.” She swore.

I raised a hand and wrapped up, “I swear to god. Ask any one of the old timer’s in town. They’ll tell you the exact same thing.”

“You don’t actually believe that do you?”

I did. Deep down I knew I did, but I couldn’t tell her that.

“Not really. Part of me wished I did, but I don’t.”

“Well, have you at least tried it?”

“Tried what?”

“Going to Redfish Point, during a storm.”

I thought about lying, but I reminded myself of her bullshit detector.

“Once,” I answered.

“And…”

“And I didn’t hear anything.”

She leaned back in her chair and exhaled, “Well that’s disappointing.”

“I mean, not really.” I remarked, “It’s still a great story. One of my favorites.”

I only caught my words after I let them slip.

“One of your favorites?” She asked, scrunching up her face, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I felt my nerves flare up again. The last thing I wanted was to give her the impression that I was one of those true crime freaks. I don’t read the old newspapers because I get off on the tragedy, I read them because they’re ghost stories. Mason’s dad, the Kincannon, the Hunt Woods Murders, everything I read has some sort of tale attached to it, some urban legend thats been told time and time again around the town’s campfires. I like to sift back through the papers to find out what really happened. Most of the time I wind up debunking the stories I’ve heard, but sometimes, if I’m lucky, I’ll get one that stays a mystery. That’s why I’ve made it to the bottom of the library’s stack of newspaper slides. I’m a sucker for a good ghost story, and the sinking of the Kincannon was one of the best, but I couldn’t tell her that.

I shrugged trying to seem more nonchalant about it than I was, “I don’t know. It’s just a hobby. History’s interesting. Big events like that can leave shockwaves through time that can still be felt today. I think it’s neat.”

Ginger stayed quiet for a moment, thought over my words, and finally said, “You’re into some weird shit Henry. Thanks.”

I didn’t know what to respond to; the insult or the thank you. I settled for both.

“Happy to help?”

Before I could say anything else to her, she got up to leave. I let out a sigh of relief, but nearly choked on the end of it when she turned back around.

“One more thing.” She said, “Was there an obituary in that paper by any chance?”

I wracked my brain for a moment. There wasn’t an obituary, I knew that. The families of the victims wanted it removed. I glossed over that detail when I told her the story. I didn’t think she’d care as much about the details as I did. Regardless, the obituary might not be in the paper, but that doesn't mean I didn’t know where to find it.

I nudged my head towards the door behind the reception desk and told her, “They keep it back there, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The families of the sailors were very adamant about not publishing their deaths. The records in that room are one-offs, they don’t just hand them out to anyone.”

Ginger thought over my words for a moment before asking, “What about you? You hang out here all the time. Can you get your hands on them?”

I probably could have, but I’d have to do some sweet talking, which wasn't exactly my strong suit.

“I don’t know. Mrs. Pickens and I may go way back, but I’ve tried to get in that room before and she still wouldn’t let me.”

I couldn’t help but notice the way Ginger’s eyes narrowed on the door. I think it was the intensity of it that caught my attention, the way she burned holes in the cheap particle board door. It was so strange.

“What did you say you needed this for again?” I asked.

Without breaking her gaze she replied, “A summer paper.”

“What class is it for?”

“Robinson’s, why.” She said dismissively, training her eyes on me.

I shrugged, “Just curious. I heard it's doozy.”

Thankfully that was enough for her. She scooped up her things from my desk and replied, “Yeah, it really is. Listen, I’ve gotta run, thanks for your help.”

“No problem.”

She turned on her heels and walked out the door, oblivious that I’d just beaten her at her own game. I caught her in a lie. I was in Robinson’s class too. I got the seating chart last night for the first day on Monday. I sat three seats back and two rows over from her, but she didn’t know that, not yet at least. We were in the same class, and last time I checked, there was no summer paper due. Why would there be? Mr. Robinson taught Calculus.

#nanowrimo

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sulcrafatejackets · 2 years

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OK here’s my question because usually Catherine doesn’t call me and you guys certainly have read plenty of my other blogs well I mean that’s where I needed help from people not so obvious the problem is that when you’re risking big things like your freedom you know Dr. James Heltsley never fought for our freedom‘s we’re fighting for them now aren’t you? No you’re goddamn right I know and every other woman knows as well and intelligent women especially intelligent women of a certain age you know I’m thinking maybe more sucking OK that’s fine that’s fine but I feel like an angry little kid who’s about to kill somebody can’t be that way cannot be that way yeah I mean you can and you can survive but you can’t be feeling that way is this the Middle East or something oh my gosh it feels like the Middle East pretty much anymore and all the worst ways

So we got a reaction out of TJ Health Pavilion does that mean that you guys are going to stop seeing every patient of another ethnicity every time they ask a question do you guys all feel so uncomfortable with questions about race question mark oh yeah I know he does that’s just to Mark Saderholm is a misogynist and a racist what is shame he knows what shame is William get off of my fucking thing asshole

Is that true? Never mind I’ll ask some other time. Well I guess it’s probably a good thing that they’re getting scared because even if you guys press charges you know they were going to be all these other kids who are going to be right behind me and I think that a lot of adults will be right behind me and really I don’t understand how I have an army situation at all it seems like my army is a lot fucking bigger than your medical school army in anyway I talked to Dartmouth college not that long ago and I think that they seem like a really really fun school I’m just saying

So Catherine’s got the situation of TJ Health Pavilion feeling like they are in danger because I told children on Facebook to not act out against them in violence

But TJ Health Pavilion what danger could you have possibly found in my blog it does it have anything to do with that somebody should kill some of you? If you wanna know my personal opinions I do think that some of you should be killed and honestly do you know that a medical doctor is the one who told me how to treat sociopathy? Ha ha hey Stephanie there’s one for you… It’s true I could get a second opinion but I think I believe the first opinion well I was a smart doctor it’s true it was a little along the lines of Dr. T

#SociopathyCure #AMedicalDoctorToldMeOnce #TJHealthPavilion #TJHealthConcerns #TJRacialConcerns #SkankAssLosers #FairMedicine

#Graciousness #Jealousy #MedicalExcellence #VersusMedicalMediocrity #VersusMedicalNightmare

#MedicalNightmareGlasgowKentucky

#Isn’tMelindaMillerSuchAPeach

#BlogSecretlySoTheyDon’tDenyYouServices

Well I already know her number enough to say that she’s got that same manipulative kind of bullshit it’s a very small minded thing they have here Mr. Gregg is very familiar with their thing but he may not know why I’m thinking in terms of us having issues then again he may know because I believe in feminism Mr. Gregg and even though what I did to you in the laundry room was bullshit don’t tell me how to do laundry ever I’ve done laundry since I was a little girl but I had no right to act that way and I can’t afford to act that way actually

Catherine apparently can afford to act that way to people she doesn’t know if I’m just a ginger piece of shit or what and you know what I can tell you Catherine with some confidence that you are not going to get inside of my pants so even though you guys may know that I’m an Asian American are you need to fuck yourselves

*Right right chewing chewing gum here in my head*

If it were up to some of these manipulative medical doctors they would suggest that people shouldn’t have opinions because if they can’t twist those opinions to suit their own agendas then how will we ever stop people from getting truth and information out to people simple answer is you won’t

And I am sorry to a couple of medical doctors out there who have been very very brave people and some of those people I did not attempt to bite the hand which feeds me but I did tell Katherine right here right now that in fact a medical doctor told me the cure for sociopathy amongst medical doctors in particular

I’m in if you guys can be such apathetic assholes… I guess I meant with gangsters Catherine do you know who I’m in with I know that I’m in with a couple of people that you’re not in with but who

Do I know that man? He’s awfully familiar but no well Red you know the color red it’s yeah do you know I’m always down with it we are one crap because Red‘s actually have to stick together somehow probably just cause of the trafficking and you know all of this abuse gingers actually need to be their own goddamn race I guess that’s what I’m trying to say but there’s not enough awareness or people in America think they can pick on gingers and say like they don’t have souls in all of this and it’s like that’s not any different than acting like a racist and it’s not true

So I didn’t cuss out a man today so I think I’ll be OK

I mean you think that we’re supposed to just put up with abuse abuse abuse abuse from medical doctors forever? And when they lie to you do you think that lie is acceptable or do you think that perhaps you should analyze whether or not you are insulting yourself? I think that you should strongly consider how your doctors have been insulting you doctors and therapists get a complex about them because they already are very well aware of the corruption within the medical industry.

My hair is falling out of my head at a rapid rate and a medical doctor refused me treatment Catherine. How would you feel if you had hair falling out of your head in chunks and a medical doctor decided I don’t wanna see you because I know that you brought up doctors in your blog… But I didn’t threaten Doctors I simply mentioned them for the bullshit they did to me and now you guys want to say that that is not my right and then you say well well we will find that petty little place where we can catch you so if you said that you believe a doctor killed

… And I do believe that a few of you are going to be killed and if I am the person who does it then I will find that information out later and I will be paid a lot of money and the president of the United States will shake my hand sometimes that’s how these stories go

#I love that for y’all #People are human #War against machine wannabes #Mark Saderholm #Life skills Inc.#Gaslighting #Gingers

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erinskeldon · 2 years

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The Giver : Lois Lowry - Review

In 1993 author Lois Lowry published her book "The Giver", an American Young Adult Dystopian novel, written from the perspective of the main character 12-year-old Jonas.

In the beginning of the book the world and the society that Jonas lives in is described as a utopian, it's safe, their is no police, no military, no crime, nothing. The community has done this to take away pain and strife by ultimately converting to "sameness" everyone's house looks the same and or similar, all of the kids, and parents are alike in some ways, and everyone wears similar clothing.

Jonas goes on to describe that the kids go through years in school as normal, but the "years" are different to what were used to. Where as we say, oh I remember Kindergarten, or I remember middle school/6th grade (and for those who are in Europe, or live in Europe; Secondary 9/Year 9) Jonas says that the early years in school are where they learn "appropriate behaviors", colors, shapes, etc.

For Jonas's year, which is the last year that kids his age go through for school, they spend their time volunteering around the community. This is observed by the elders of the community where at a ceremony, called The Ceremony of 12, they assign these kids jobs within the community based off where they mostly did their volunteer hours.

Jonas during a dinner with his family, expressed his feelings of worry and being unsure of where he will be placed. Even in this scene described in the book we can see exactly how different families are in this dystopia, where during their meal the father asks the family to share certain details of their day including how they felt today.

When it comes time for Jonas to attend The Ceremony of 12 Jonas is assigned the elders to the next "Receiver of Memory", which is a very rare and held at an upmost respected role in the community. Jonas however, is described as not disappointed but confused. Later when Jonas has his first day with the current Receiver, he notes that he is very old. The Receiver is essentially the one and only person in the community who holds memories that the others are not allowed to have.

The current Receiver gives Jonas's memories of riding a sleigh down a hill, seeing a rainbow, seeing color, war, anguish, etc. Jonas goes through the motions of trying to deal with what he is feeling about having these new found memories.

We see that Jonas begins to view his world differently, at first what I would describe as a steady incline, quickly to a drastic change in just a couple of chapters. The changes he notices are subtle, like when he learns about color, he notices the color of the grass, the water, the hair color of the girl he's crushing on which is presumably a red head / ginger.

However, the story is not really about Jonas learning the truth behind why his community is the way it is, although it plays a big part, the story also focuses on the little baby apart of a twin set that his father has volunteered to nurture in his own home.

Jonas's father has the role of "Nurturer", his father essentially is like a doctor, he helps delivers babies and decides whether a baby is "released" or is allowed to continue to be raised in the community. It's through Jonas's father that we learn that the children are born through a group of mothers who are referred to as "Birthmothers", they're only job is to give birth to kids for the community and are not allowed to apply for what is called a "Family Unit" nor have spouses after their training.

These birthmothers are essentially the mothers of most of the kids that are in the community, and when two people are married they are able to go to the elders and apply for what is called a "Family Unit" which is essentially kinda like a application to adopt a kid.

If they are approved they get to select from the newborns, the newborns are already named so the parents don't get to name them. The baby that Jonas's father has taken in has not been named as he is described as being smaller than his twin brother and not falling asleep quickly and not staying asleep, often waking up in the middle of the night crying(like a normal baby).

Jonas's father explains that if the young baby, to which the family secretly names Gabriel, doesn't start sleeping well he may have to be released. Jonas at first doesn't really care baby Jonas, focusing more on his own problems, but later does develop a relationship with him, even resulting in passing on a peaceful memory to Gabriel to help him go back to sleep.

Jonas also finds out through the Receiver that he is not the first child to have been chosen in recent years, although reluctant the Receiver eventually tells Jonas that a young girl, Rosemary. Was chosen before him, and finds out that Rosemary didn't complete her training in becoming the Receiver. We find out that the horrible memories that Rosemary inherited from the Receiver had drove her to voluntarily be "Released".

Jonas not knowing what being "released" really means and having told the Receiver about Gabriel says that his dad had to release a child earlier that day, the Receiver explains to Jonas that as the Receiver he has access to all the private records and events that happen in the community, to which Jonas then watches his father essentially kill and through a baby through a chute, which is revealed to be the process of being released.

Jonas now viewing his world drastically different, he decides to take baby Gabriel and run away from the community.

Of course, I left out A LOT of details about this book and this story as I don't want to spoil it, but I absolutely love this book, I've read this book a total of three times, and have fallen more in love with this book.

The community resembles certain aspects that I can see in real life, a lot of which has to do with racism and even the horrible events of world war II.

This book reflects a lot of what I feel people fear and connects to what I've read from other books oddly. If any of you have read The Great Gatsby, one of the most famous quotes from that book comes from the female lead, Daisy where in a conversation with her cousin, the narrator and other main character she states that "The best thing a girl can be, is a beautiful little fool." Which I admit is an odd quote to think of in this case, but let me explain.

I thought of this quote, because I think about how the community has essentially erased and abolished any knowledge or memory (besides the receiver) of war, anguish, hurt, etc. and how if we has people didn't have any knowledge of that, even now today-you turn on the news more than likely they are reporting something along the lines of what's going on the world, like what's happening in Ukraine, the on-going civil fights in Africa, and of course most recently the fight against Roe v. Wade being overturned.

If you grew up your whole life without knowing of any of the terrible things that have happened, or that are happening, would you be happier than you are right now? I have had seen people online and have had personal conversations with friends where they have stated that their anxiety wouldn't be as bad as it is right now if they didn't know what was going on in the world.

In the book it's not clearly flat-out stated but it is revealed that the community purposefully removed any knowledge of events like war from their community so that they could live a life without pain. Anything that makes someone feel "indifferent" they want it removed.

I definitely think that I'd be a lot happier if the world was more at peace and if I could just live my life without having to worry about something happening to me, worrying about events that although not likely to happen have happened, and could happen any moment I'm out and about. But I also think this relates to the topic of history and why it's very important to learn, we need classes and teachers who teach about History in order to learn from past mistakes but also to learn that *obviously* actions and words have consequences. But sometimes, I feel as though as humans, if we don't learn about what affect those words or consequences can have, we can naturally revert back. In the 21st century we are the living the effects of the affects of past humans who were uneducated about how their words and consequences can change the world.

To wrap up my review which is probably confusing and not very well structured, I apologize it's been a couple months since I re-read this book. But, again like I said I purposefully left out a lot of the details from this book purely because I want who ever see's this post and thinks my overall summery is interesting will go and read this book and experience it for themselves. But I also tried to explain the main point/plot of the book and review and reflect on that without spoiling to much.

Which clearly I'm not good at, I very much phrased everything as if I'm talking with a friend who's heard me do this time in and time again and will just "naturally" understand what I mean. But, I do hope you enjoyed it to some extent and if you are interested in reading The Giver, you can definitely find this book at Barnes & Noble and off of Amazon. I also recommend if you don't have a B&N to call up your local bookstore to see if they have a copy or better yet your local library.

But, if you have read this story I'd love to see and hear what your thoughts were on The Giver and what kind of things you took from it.

#the giver #lois lowry #writerscommunity #women writers #writerscorner #writer things #writers on tumblr #books & libraries #booksbooksbooks #bookstore #best seller books #book quotes #book blog #bookshelf #bookblr #book review

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edwardskhakipants · 3 years

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Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested. Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to.

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats.

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo. “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

#this bad boy had been swimming around in my head for awhile #please enjoy #my other fics havent been cullen centric enough for me lately #so i had to do something #twilight fic #twilight fan fiction #and thank you to the editing queen edwardsmate4ever for beta'ing for me #youre a queen

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