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#but maybe also encourage your kid that someone other than Mom or Grandpa can open the snack container
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lol how do i tell my sister-in-law, who is currently complaining about this, that the reason none of her siblings or sibling-in-laws comment on the pics of her kids that she puts in the family chat is because her eldest (2.5yrs) was born in the height of covid and while she wanted to keep him safe, all she did was ensure that no one was allowed close to him (legit have never hugged/ held him, save for 5 min when he was 3weeks old and she had to pee), so now the kid has no rapport with anyone other than his mother and grandfather and will actively ignore everyone else, and her youngest is 4.5 months old and i've met him like twice. like, i'm sorry, but you have done nothing to encourage a relationship between your children and their relatives - going so far as to actively not include us in anything related to the kids (can't make name suggestions, never invites us over, actively hid that she was pregnant the second time around till she was 5.5 months in, started packing up her own child's little family birthday party when we pulled in the driveway because we arrived a bit later than she wanted after only telling us the plan for the evening that morning), and now you're cross we don't fawn over your kids? especially when you post about a dozen pics a day? there are people i follow on instagram who post pics of their kids, and i feel about the same level of reaction to those pics as i do to the pics of my own nephews because i have about the same level of interaction! but we can't say that because my SIL is one of those always-the-victim people who doesn't see herself as being part of the problem.
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citrinesparkles · 3 years
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cat.
jason todd, eventually x gender neutral reader. 1,388 words. notes: this is part one of i don't even know how many and i cannot believe how wildly out of hand this got. this was a 500 word idea and it's gonna be at least three parts someone help (thanks to @angelz-dust for being so patient with me and encouraging on this!!! would never have made it out of the drafts without you <3) warnings: danger to kids, mention of a couple arguing, animal illness (spoiler alert: it'll be fine i Promise), a little (lot) different than my usual edit: part two here!
"let me be perfectly clear: if you even think about showing back up here, i will know, and i will make your life a living hell until i finally put you out of your misery. understood?"
"yes! yeah man i get it. understood."
"then i'd get going, if i were you." the man scrambled to his feet and bolted off across the playground, leaving jason to shout after him. "and warn any buddies you might have, too!"
he picked up the discarded knife and pocketed it. he then turned around slowly, hands visibly empty in a careful attempt not to scare the two kids behind him- well, careful not to make it worse, anyway. they, understandably, seemed a little shaken already.
"are you both alright?" he asked softly, slouching just a little to seem as harmless as possible.
probably would have been easier if they hadn't just watched him threaten someone.
the older kid- probably fifteen, if jason had to place a bet- nodded silently before glancing back at the little girl he was still hovering in front of protectively, who was just... staring.
she couldn't have been older than six.
"jazz?" the boy asked, voice tight. "are you hurt?"
he was ignored. "are you superman?"
the question, innocent and earnest and a little timid, made jason laugh. "not quite, kiddo."
she tilted her head like a curious puppy, furrowing her brow. "why are you wearing a jacket?"
jason glanced up at the boy, who seemed comforted by her mini interrogation. good.
talking was a good sign, too, so jason crouched down to meet her at eye level.
"because it gets cold out here!" he said, raising his hands up with a small wiggle of his fingers. "gloves, too."
"well, duh," jazz said with a giggle- a win, jason thought. "no fingerprints."
he nodded. "also helpful."
"and the hat to hide your face!" she said proudly, stepping forward a little to point at his helmet.
"wow, you've got the whole thing figured out, huh?"
"mhm! my friend ricky loves batman and his friends. he talks about batman and nightwing and spoiler and robin and red robin and red hood and batgirl all the time! they hide their faces like you, ricky thinks it's because of bad guys."
"they're kinda cool, huh?"
"nightwing's my favorite," she said firmly, as though it was something she had considered at great length and was fully prepared to defend.
"not red hood?" jason smacked a hand to his chest in mock hurt, shifting back dramatically. "i'm crushed, truly."
"no, ricky says red hood used to be an alien, but then got bored and now he annoys batman for fun instead. that sounds mean."
...well, okay, maybe he did annoy the big guy for fun a little. "that's an interesting theory, all right."
"ricky's got all kinds of theories. he thinks batman's a robot-" jason snorted- "and that nightwing was like pinochle."
"you mean pinocchio," the boy corrected quietly. "pinochle's what gramma plays."
"pinocchio!" she exlaimed, with a "ch" sound in the middle that made jason smile. "a doll that got turned human. that's how he does all the flips and stuff, he's got magic."
"hm, ricky seems like an interesting guy," jason said thoughtfully, making a big show of rubbing the chin of his helmet. "what do y-"
he was cut off by a loud, insistent meow, and jazz gasping even louder before taking off to the bushes.
"w- hey, don't rush off like that!" he said, shooting up off the ground as the boy sighed.
"there's this cat that she's been taking care of," he explained quietly. "the thing's got attitude for days but i think it's sick or something. jasmine's been bringing it little bits of tuna and chicken, but it's not like we can get it to a vet."
jason hummed. "why do you think it's sick?"
"it's thin, with its eyes all watery and sunk."
"might just be malnourished," he muttered.
"she's been trying to find it a home, y'know."
there was a wink-wink-nudge-nudge quality to the kid's voice that did not go unnoticed.
on one hand, it was good to hear something other than fear from him, but on the other... "what part of the tactical armor makes you think i'm an option?"
"the part where you just stuck around to check on us instead of running after that guy."
okay. maybe the quiet thing hadn't been so bad. the cocky 'amateur psychologist' thing was a little grating.
"you the real red hood?" the kid asked suddenly, shaking jason from his internal grumbling.
"what do you think?"
"i think you just saved our lives, and i wanna know who i'm thanking."
jason turned to him with a flourish. "red hood, baby saver extraordinaire. at your service."
"baby- dude, i'm seventeen!"
okay, so he would have lost his bet. "noted. still a baby, trust me."
"what are you under there, twenty something? whatever, grandpa."
jason chuckled, turning back to watch jasmine pet a small cat under one of the yellow lights littering the park. "you did well, looking out for her with that guy. you got a name?"
he scoffed. "would've been better if i'd kicked him between the legs right when he opened his mouth, instead of letting him get started on the whole 'what're you kids doing out so late?' bit," he muttered darkly, pausing for a moment before answering. "my name's jordan."
"well, jordan, what are you guys doing out so late?"
"mom works nights, and the neighbors were fighting. it was loud enough to wake jazz up, and it wasn't the kind of thing she needed to hear. i figured a trip to see her cat would be less awful than hearing them call each other things i wouldn't even call my friends." the breeze picked up, rustling the trees and catching on jason's jacket. "and then the asshole with the knife decided to make a bad night worse."
"is jazz your sister?"
"yeah, she's a good kid," jordan said, fond and warm. "sorry about the whole ricky thing, though. he's obsessed with those vigilante conspiracy videos and tells her all about them at school."
"no, no, it's fine. i can't wait to tell wing about his new origin story, he'll love that."
jasmine suddenly came bounding back towards them, grabbing their hands and yanking them to follow her. "c'mon, you need to meet cat!"
"you call it cat?"
jordan bristled subtly. "is there a problem with that, red?"
"no, no, it's an appropriate name. just making sure." jason waved his spare hand at his head. "helmet makes me hear things sometimes."
jordan opened his mouth, but his sister plowed right over whatever he was going to say, pulling on jason's hand again. "cat, meet... what's your name?"
"red hood."
"you can't be red hood!" she whirled around, indignantly putting her hands on her hips. "there's already a red hood in gotham. besides, you're not even wearing a hood, so it doesn't fit anyway."
jason turned his head to jordan, who was smiling- a good sign, but probably a bad omen for whatever he was about to say. "she's right, man. it's not a hood."
"tough crowd," jason muttered. "uh... then you can call me, uh-"
"bucket!" jasmine suggested happily, tapping his helmet. "because this looks like a bucket."
if there was one thing vigilantism had taught him, it was that sometimes you actually do need to pick your battles. this...
this was not worth fighting.
"sure, fine, whatever. hi, cat, i'm red bucket." he turned away from the kids- both of whom looked entirely too happy about the whole 'bucket' thing, he thought- and crouched down to finally look at the cat.
it did look a little sick, actually.
it was gray, and thin, and-
and now it was headbutting his knee like it was trying to push him over.
"cat likes you!" jazz cheered.
"sure does," jordan said pointedly. "isn't that interesting?"
jason opened his mouth, but his snarky comment died in his throat when the cat settled down right in front of him and blinked slowly up at him with a sweet tilt to its head.
...shit.
just- shit.
he sighed, standing up and looking back to jordan and his stupid, entirely-too-pleased-with-himself grin. "so, jazz," jason grumbled reluctantly, "where does cat live?"
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leupagus · 4 years
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My Stationery Box, or: The Douche Chest, or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Being A Terrible Parody Of Myself
So I really love to write letters, and have since i was a kid — when i cleaned out my grandparents’ house I found a few I’d written in grade school, and my parents’ files are chocablock full of the weird collage type things I sent to them in college. 
I’ve also been a huge insufferable fucking snob about stationery since way too young (yes I did have a fountain pen phase, no it did not go well) and have been collecting fancy paper and cute cards and assorted weird writing paraphernalia forever. Up until recently, things were just kind of haphazardly stuffed in various drawers and shelves and I could never actually find any said fancy shit when I wanted it; but a couple of months ago I discovered an adorable little chest of my late mom’s that had previously housed, I think, her knitting and has mostly just been collecting dust since. And voila: The Douche Chest was born:
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(Pictured with my elderly laptop and coffee with my coffee warmer, which I STRONGLY ENCOURAGE everyone to buy one day when we’re not under worldwide quarantine, seriously it will change your life.)
Keep Reading for some top tier stationerdery
First off, the stuff that helps me write! I still use my family address book, which was purchased sometime in the early 80s and has the name and address of everyone my parents ever cared enough about to want their name and address, which is actually not that many people. I keep it updated and have added a few people, but mostly rely on my phone’s address book. Mostly I like it because it’s got a lot of my mom’s handwriting.
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My planner, which has a whole correspondence section where I keep a record of who I write to regularly, when I write to them, and what kind of stationery they usually get (because there are different types and you don’t want to give a correspondence an inconsistent letter-reading experience! Yes I know, I can’t believe I’m like this either) indicated by the m, s, x, l, b notations. That will be relevant later. Also yes the planner is where I scribble down both story ideas and my gratitude journal. This is what I’m saying in re: yikes.
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At my own house, I have a whole huge box of letters I’ve gotten over the years, mostly organized by sender and date. Since I’m at my aunt’s house for quarantine, my correspondence is all being kept in my dad’s old... I dunno what to call it, basically it’s a trapper-keeper type thing that I literally never saw him go to work without. (A running theme of this tour is that a whole lot of this stuff is inherited from/given to me by my parents and grandparents.) Inside is also various labels that have come in handy when addressing packages etc, as well as our local neighborhood directory.
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Next up is my pen bag, which is — I mean, it has my pens. I prefer writing with a black .5 tip rollerball type pen, and by “prefer” I mean “I cannot abide writing letters with anything else and will go to Staples and buy a new box rather than use a ballpoint pen except obv not right now, which makes the bag real important for keeping track of all my special pens.” Also pictured: my grandpa’s ancient letter opener that I’m pretty sure he stabbed multiple people with, and my blue Le Pen which I use to annotate my letters when I’m reading them through before sending. I KNOW.
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This is my assorted letter-writing stuff storage box (no we’re not even at the cards yet this is TERRIBLE); please note that I sort of jerryrigged this box together myself, which will be another running theme of this tour. Glue, roller whiteout thingies, washi tape (which I don’t really use but people keep sending me?) post-its and my address stamp because no matter what I do, the fuckin’ Audubon Society refuses to send me a single donation request with cute stickers showing my address even though they’ve sent my deceased dad like three THIS YEAR. Anyway. Also please note the incredibly awesome initial stamp thing — I came up with the rough design in college and use it in place of my name a lot, but I went to leoniebunch and they transformed it into this super professional and lovely design that I want to use for the rest of my life. Not pictured: the fucking wax seal I also had made with that design, because yes, I’m like this.
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WE’RE STILL NOT DONE WITH THE PARAPHERNALIA: here’s the other misc. stuff that I use on the regular. Cup with sponge because we’re not really licking envelopes these days: tons of weird stickers that I’ve collected, YET MORE PENS, including rainbow ones because one of these days I’m going to write to one of my friends with alternating rainbow colors and they’ll have to murder me. Also pictured: the letter opener which I forgot to put back in the pen bag, as well as my dog’s nail clippers and brush because that’s a handy place to keep them. Also also pictured: my dog, who does not help in any way with letter writing.
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OKAY FINALLY ONTO THE STATIONERY, Jesus just writing this all out is making me both proud and ashamed.
I’m sure you noticed in the first pic how everything is meticulously, not to say monomaniacally, labeled. Some stuff might require a little bit of explanation; some stuff is pretty wysiwyg though. For example, BEAR CARDS, which:
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(These are sent exclusively to my nephews, who go absolutely apeshit over them every time. Come to think of it, I have a LOT of cards/letter stock/etc that is just for one person or one set of people, which maybe I should talk to my therapist about.)
PUN CARDS are likewise exactly what you think they are; they’re the most recent addition to my hoard, having found them at Powells when I went to Portland in February. They are extremely My Kind Of Thing.
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Then you’ve got things like BIRTHDAY CARDS, THANKS, POSTCARDS which like — guess what:
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(Please note that of these birthday cards, all but two were actually inherited from my grandmother who passed away in 1986. See if you can guess which two are my purchases.) (Also I’m running out of thank-you cards but to be fair I am rarely grateful so this should last me another few years at least.) (Also shit, I didn’t take a picture of the postcards I don’t think? Whatever, they’re postcards that I’ve either inherited from my parents or collected over the years. There’s also a very odd collection of wolf-themed cards that SOMEONE in my family collected, and that I have been using exclusively for allighater because she’s the only one who could ever appreciate them enough.)
Then there’s the BLANK CARDS and BLANK AND WRITTEN CARDS WITH/WITHOUT ENVELOPES, because sometimes I just need to know what I’m getting into before opening the boxes. I’d say a good 50% of these were inherited from my folks, with the cutsier ones being my own purchases. The cards that these boxes originally contained are looooooooong since used up but they’re nice boxes and that meme about adulthood being an endless debate over whether or not you should keep a box because it’s a really good box is accurate as all hell. 
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(There are a lot of cards in here that I bought when I was like, in college — those square ones, for example, were purchased at Faces in Northampton when I was in college and I’m probably never going to actually send them which is kind of ridiculous but see: this entire post.)
And finally, the actual letter-letter stationery! Which I also have an embarrassing amount of! First up is what’s labelled MADOC TREE CARD/LETTER because I honestly had no idea how else to describe it; it was inherited from my grandma who everyone called MaDoc (on account of her being both a ma and a doctor, go figure) and it’s really lovely. I doubt it’s the original intention, but I like to unfold the paper and use both sides of it, because I always have a lot to say. These are used only for family members on MaDoc’s side, and of those, only the ones I really like, which accounts for there still being a lot left.
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Then there’s the X-LARGE paper, which isn’t actually that large — it’s just normal computer-sized — but in context is the biggest stuff I’ve got. All of this paper is from my mom, who loved using cute themed paper, and I use this stuff mostly for the friends of hers I keep in touch with (which is actually kind of a lot).
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Then there’s the letterhead I use for — okay, so like, we know by now that I’m deeply weird, but this is probably just DEEPLY WEIRD, but whatever, you came this far. So I found a metric shitton of 6 3/4 envelopes in amongst my parents’ office supplies — I have literally zero idea why they had about 5 100-count boxes of these envelopes but I’m one of those people who can never, ever throw shit out, so! I gathered together all the letterhead that they’d also collected over the years from the various universities and hospitals they worked at, cut said letterhead down so that it a) didn’t have University of Tacoma or whatever still on it and b) perfectly fit a 6 3/4 envelope if folded three times. The resulting shape is a little... odd, I’ll admit, but it pleases me greatly and that’s the important thing. In fact this has been my go-to correspondence choice for a couple of months now.
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(Also pictured: the cover for this hinky-ass box I made out of a Beekman 1802 box from when we went to their store for their Rose Apothecary popup shop. Zero regrets. Not pictured: the really cute pad of paper I also use for these envelopes that’s a more normal size and shape because where’s the fun in showing you normal stuff?)
And finally, my pride and joy, my Crane Stationery, some of which I have had since I was in high school and my mom bought me a box of it for my birthday (I told you, running theme). It comes in small, medium, and big; yes, I absolutely have rules as to who gets what size of these, too. The medium box kind of fell apart a few years ago so I cobbled a new one together; Crane stationery is notable for not being as exciting as that cover might imply. I’m also kind of pleased that I still have the airmail stationery that I got in college that apparently isn’t sold anymore, which I find baffling because what the fuck is the point of international correspondence if you don’t have to use special stationery? Anyway:
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(In re: the lined sheets — I actually have them for every size, because I loathe lined paper but also loathe writing crooked, hence these guides that I put under each sheet as I write. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )
So that’s the complete guided tour! If you aspire to have a collection as viscerally unnerving as mine, feel free to send any questions my way. You’re welcome/I’m sorry.
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artificialqueens · 3 years
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Gimme Love, 3/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder
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AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia
2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the
back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed
issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;
differing social circles (in my case, lack of),
her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,
her friends,
and, of course, my massive crush on her.
So, why was Blair the second reason as to why I dragged myself to school? Her smile. That was enough. As much as I tried to avoid her, the world decided to do a big "fuck you" on me and sometimes put us into situations together. And every time, I'd be internally freaking out. The worst was when we were both 16. It was that time of the year when the school would invite someone to subject us to the most humiliating moment of our lives. How the fuck were you supposed to put a condom on a banana without bursting out laughing? How the fuck were you supposed to sit there and keep a straight face when the educator used words like 'flaps'? We filed into the class, Jujubee and me taking seats at the back of the room. We knew this was going to be hilarious, so best to avoid the attention of the teacher. "Juju, I know you are dying to make jokes during this, but I'm begging you. Please don't." I spoke quietly to her as other students filed in. "But you know I'm going to, right?" Jujubee smirked, putting her bag on the ground. "No. We wanna keep a low profile. If we laugh, we draw attention, and then we risk being singled out. You know? We'll be at the front of the class demonstrating whatever this bitch asks us." Obviously, I was referring to putting condoms on bananas and the like. Juju, however, raised a brow, "I wouldn't mind that, babe. Don't worry. We won't need to take our clothes off." I stared at her for a few seconds, unable to think of how to respond to that. Jujubee winked, and I forced myself to look away. "That's not what I meant." Blair strolled in with Denali and Rosé, already I could feel my stomach knotting. They went to sit together somewhere in the middle. "Ugh, nope. I don't think so, ladies." Ah, Miss Jaida Hall, if only I could have warned you not to say what you were about to say. Somehow Blair and the two others knew she was speaking to them. She continued, "This is an important class, and I'm not gonna have you all laughing and snickering during it." She had a point. The three girls usually whispered to each other in class, giggling about all sorts of shit. It was never anything malicious about the lesson or teachers, just inside jokes with each other, pretty harmless stuff. But it pissed the teachers off so much. "You can't be serious, right?" Denali replied, clearly scandalised. "Very serious, actually." Ms Hall nodded, "Denali, sit with Brian. Rosé, with Gigi. Blair, with Brianna." I grabbed Jujubee by the wrist, the pressure making her squeak. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Blair was not rolling her eyes as she made her way to the back towards me. This was not fucking happening. As instructed, Jujubee stood up and let Blair sit down, moving to sit somewhere else. I was alone with the one person I tried my hardest to avoid. She slouched down in her chair, arms folded like she was already over it. I wanted so badly to ask if she was OK. But I couldn't bring myself to. And as the lights turned off and the sex-ed lady pressed play on the video player, I wished I had said something. As the way too enthusiastic narrator explained step by step the act of sexual intercourse, I tried hiding the blush on my face with my hair. I tried so hard to focus on what I was being taught. The truth was, I was still a virgin, as were many of the others in the room, I'm sure. But unlike them, I had no idea how sex worked. It wasn't something I ever gave time to think about. I felt a tapping on my hand. My body tensed as I glanced to the side. Blair was looking at the screen, then at me, then her fingers brushed against my hand. I stared back, unsure of what was happening but also knowing full well what she was doing. She leaned closer and pressed her lips on mine. … OK, that's not what happened. Life wasn't a movie. This was the beginning of the fantasies. Was I ashamed because I was thinking about Blair like that? Or was I ashamed that I enjoyed thinking of Blair like that? "This is ridiculous," Blair whispered. Was I supposed to say something back? "What do you mean?" I
whispered back. "Do they actually think we're that dumb? We all know how sex works. We don't need this stupid class." Blair rolled her eyes. I almost told her that I belonged to the small percentage that didn't know. But I stopped myself. I couldn't bear her knowing that information. Instead, I went with the awkward, "haha. Yeaaahhhh…" For the rest of the film, we sat in silence. Still trying to focus on the screen. Not the absolute stunner sitting next to me. And as if by magic, the video ended. I wanted to say I was relieved, but I couldn't lie; what I learned from the film left me nauseous. He puts his hoo-ha in her what, now?? "Well, that was really cool and hip, right?" The educator enthused. I cringed internally. No woman wearing a crucifix necklace and ankle-length skirt has the right to use words like 'cool' and 'hip'. "I know it's probably all so confusing. So that's why I'm here to answer any of your questions, dudes and dudettes." Already, one of the boys put a hand up. "Go ahead, homie." "What about the other hole?" He said with a straight face before his friends started laughing. He laughed back as he fired one of them. "You know. The back door?" Ms Hall shot him the 'look'. He was toast. The sex educator fixed her hair quite uncomfortable, "Well, there's a reason that is an out hole, young man. I warn all of you, do not go down that road. You will get aids and die. Now, does anybody else have a question?" The educator rambled, fixing her hair awkwardly. I heard the rustling of clothes beside me, and glancing around, Blair had her hand straight up in the air. "Yes, sweetheart?" Sex Ed lady pointed to her. "OK, so this is interesting and all, but I was just wondering, what about non-heterosexual sex?" Her brows knit for a moment. I looked around at her now. The breath caught in my throat. "I'm sorry?" Sex Ed lady asked. "You know. Man on man. Girl on girl. What about all of that?" Blair raised a brow. "I mean, you gotta know there's more than just heterosexual people out there. Maybe some even in this room right now." "Blair." Ms Hall began. "Because, if you disagree, then that's ridiculous. Oh, and if you think aids is some kind of death sentence, then you seriously need to educate yourself." Sex ed lady looked appalled, her Christian beliefs quite clearly threatened. "That's it. Get out." Ms Hall stood up. Blair huffed, pushing her seat back, lifted her bag and left the room, Ms Hall following behind. "OK. So, any other questions? Reasonable questions only, please." Jujubee was looking over her shoulder at me now, sharing the same expression I did. Thank God for lunch next period. Jujubee and I were hiding at the back of the school, in an alley between the building itself and the old workshops. The perfect hiding place for a smoke and to freak the fuck out about specific events. "Juju, she knows. She knows I'm a lesbian. She knows I like her." I paced. "I'm moving. That's it." I stopped. "But why would she speak up for me of all people? It doesn't make sense." My eyes widened. "Unless she's also a lesbian. I mean, that makes sense, right?" Jujubee had been sitting on the wall, patiently listening to my manic ramblings. The first few minutes, she was just as astounded. But the more I theorised, rambling on and on, she was over it. "I highly doubt that considering the boyfriend." "Then she must know. Why else would she say it? I highly doubt there are other gays in that class. Speaking of which, I had no idea lesbians could have sex like; how does that work. I'm gonna look into that somehow. But getting back to the point, if she did know, why would she speak out for me of all people?" My ramblings were non-stop. I tried my best to avoid Blair for the rest of the day, not that I could, considering we were both in the same last period. Blair's outburst was the talk of the school. I wasn't sure if it was a positive response or not. The only thing I did know was Trevor was pissed. "Brie, look." Jujubee tapped me. I turned from my locker and looked where everyone else seemed to be
looking. Just down the corridor, Trevor was standing over Blair, their conversation clearly heated. People were shamelessly moving closer, Jujubee following in their path. "Juju, don't," I whispered. But she didn't listen. I went after her as if it would stop her. "Trevor, this isn't that big of a deal," Blair said. "Not a big deal? Blair, do you know what the guys are saying? They think you're gonna dump me for a girl. Do you know how humiliating that is?" Trevor held a hand to his chest "And what if I did?" Blair challenged. The few people standing around cooed with excitement. "Oh, please. Don't get all cocky now that you have an audience." Trevor pointed. But Blair took a step closer to him. "What, 'cause you know you're the one who looks like an idiot? Maybe if you weren't so insecure, you'd know I would never do that to you." "Don't call me an idiot." Trevor lowered his tone, choosing purposely to ignore her reassurance. "Fine. But don't criticise me for a valid question I asked in a class you weren't even a part of. It's none of your business, no one's business for that matter." Blair bit back. "I can do what I want, Blair." "OK. Whatever." Blair brushed past him. Trevor quickly spun around, grabbing her arm. "No, we're not done having this conversation." My stomach twisted. "Let go of my arm, Trevor." Blair tugged, her voice cracking. Trevor did as was told now that the air was thick with tension, "We are not done talking," he stressed. Blair took a step back, "Yeah, we are, actually," and she turned to walk away. "If you walk away right now, we're finished." Trevor threatened. It was as if time was at a standstill, waiting for her reaction. But at the same time, it felt as though time was counting down. Like we were in a competition show. The contestant has to decide before time runs out, while the audience yells, 'DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!' No one was shouting, but you could feel everyone's excitement. Blair's lip curled upwards. "OK. Fine by me." And, finally, she walked off. The people were cooing with excitement again. "Shut up!" Trevor shouted. I grabbed Jujubee by the shoulder and ushered her back. Trevor kicked his locker, the thud echoing through the halls. That was the last straw. Knowing Trevor, he'd take his anger out on us. It was time to flee the scene. It was all Jujubee wanted to talk about for the rest of the day. Now I knew how she felt during my smoke break. But I couldn't blame her. The scene played in my head over and over again, leading to so many questions. Was there more to this breakup? Did he grab Blair like that all the time? What would happen now? Would she find a new guy? A girl, maybe? I came to the conclusion that Blair and Trevor's breakup was neither good nor bad. Bad because, as I said before, now he had more pent up anger from the humiliation of being so publicly dumped. Therefore, Jujubee and I would most likely be subject to more harassment. Good, because maybe Blair did like girls. Maybe there was still some little chance for us to be together. But if we were going to be together, there was one issue; I still had no fucking idea how lesbian sex worked. Cut to later that night, I'm in my room, sitting in front of my computer. I needed to distract myself from my thoughts of the breakup. While the scratchy dial-up tones emitted the machine, I psyched myself up. Even though I knew sex was normal to learn about at that age, it was still daunting. With shaky hands, I searched 'lesbian sex'. And fuck was it a mistake. What I wanted was educational articles, guides, etc. And what I got was porn. I watched all but a few minutes, all the painfully bad acting scenes that took place before the main event. Upon hearing the first moan, I clicked out as fast as I could. Looking behind me, Piggie was just playing with a stuffed animal on my bed. "You saw that, right?" He looked at me with perked ears. I still felt judged, so I opened my bedroom door and let him out. I needed to be exact. 'How do lesbians have sex?' And Brianna Caldwell was never the
same. My mind was opened that night. This was no mistake. This was a surprise. I couldn't look away from the computer screen, no matter how slow the Internet connection was. All of this information was all too much but not enough at the same time. And it made me feel less nauseated than I felt after watching that stupid video in class. And I built up the courage to go back to that porn site. And I watched every damn second. Then I watched another one. And another. And just one more 'cause why the fuck not? My bedroom door opened. "Brianna, I'm ordering - -" "Get out," I shouted, closing the site down like my life depended on it. But she stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide and hand still on the door frame. "Honey, are you - -" "Mom, oh my god. Can you just - -" I couldn't even form a proper sentence. She gave an apologetic look and closed the door. But she remained on the other side. "I just wanted you to know that I'm ordering pizza for Grandpa and me. Do you want some?" My forehead was in my hand now. "Yes." "What kind?" "Just…" I wanted to shout, "Pepperoni." And with that, she left. But that wasn't the end of it. When the food arrived, I waited a few minutes before going downstairs to grab a few slices. Grandpa was in the living room watching an old rerun of The A-Team. But she was there, in the kitchen, as if she was waiting for me. "Honey, look. I know you're getting to that age where you're curious about certain things and - -" "Mom, no. Please, don't do this." I whined. "I know. I know. I just wanted to let you know that this is natural, and…" she continued to deliver the same talk we all got in class. My eyes were wide, face red with humiliation. -_-_-_- 2020 I picked up a slice of pepperoni pizza, instantly reminded of the traumatic event. OK, maybe that was too strong of a word to use. But of course, you are going to dread the thought of that time your parent talked to you about sex. I walked into the living room, pizza slice in hand, trying not to dwell on the memory. "So, Brianna. Any update on the love life?" Tamisha asked. I loved that bitch; being one of Mom's closest friends, she was present for most of my life. But she always had a tendency to ask questions I wasn't up for answering. I took a bite from my pizza and answered with a full mouth, "dry." "Girl, you're almost 40." She continued. I was ready to challenge her because I was actually just 33 when Mom took her turn to speak. "Yeah, get yourself a man and make me a Grandma already." She wasn't serious. She knew I hated these types of talks, but that didn't stop her from encouraging the others. The funny thing about the time she caught me watching porn, she never clocked it was girl on girl. Of all the years I've been on this planet, I hadn't given her a clue that I was a lesbian. Would I ever tell her? I didn't see the point. From previous failed relationships and being too busy with my job, I wouldn't end up with someone anyway. But of course, I'd make an exception for a certain someone. Monét poured the first round of shots. I already knew I'd hate myself the next day. I wasn't drunk already. Just sort of buzzed. But that changed within an hour. I was hammered. Mom, Monét and all her friends were singing all the old songs in the living room. I was out in the kitchen, trying to drink 8 glasses of water. I only managed 3. Piggie ran in and put his paws up on my knee. "There he is. My baby. My fucking son." I slid down to the ground and let him sit in my lap. "How is your night going?" Just great, Brianna! Anyway, how about that Blair girl, huh? Piggie's non-existent voice said. "Oh yeah," my eyes narrowed. I unlocked my phone and opened up Facebook. And I bravely searched up her name. I say bravely because it does take some balls to go and stalk your crushes social media accounts. All it took to fuck everything up was the slip of a finger, and before you know it, you've liked a post or sent a friend request. "Let's do some digging, Piggie." I cuddled him. Immediately, she was the top result, with Jujubee
being the only mutual friend. "Yeah, girl. Infiltration." I commented as I clicked into her profile. And then her profile picture. "Holy shit." She hadn't aged. She still looked as young and radiant as she did back in high school. "What do you think, Piggie?" I showed him the screen. He glanced at it before tucking his head under his arms. The enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes. I looked at her info. 'Single'. Promising. Scrolling down to her timeline, I noticed she didn't post a lot. Fair enough. Facebook was becoming a dead site in recent years. There were just your average Facebook posts, sharing giveaway posts, a post from an old lady saying, 'Blair, this is Granny. Could you go to Walmart and get me some applesauce? Love granny xx', a shared post from a guy called George Miller. And my finger stopped scrolling upon seeing Blair holding a baby. "Oh God, we've encountered our first obstacle, Piggie," I whined. I clicked into the comments. That George Miller guy commented, 'congrats, Blair!' She replied, 'thank you, but she's my cousin's lol'. "Thank you, Jesus." I put my phone down for a moment to put my hand up to the good lord. I scrolled some more, seeing many inspirational quotes, a link to Adore You by Harry Styles. And a picture of her. With that George Miller guy. With his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her temple. I could feel my heart sink the more I studied it. Yeah, I knew Blair and I were never meant to be anyway. But it was still upsetting. Relax. They could be friends. Yeah, that's right. Friends hold each other and act all affectionate, right?? I cuddle with Jujubee sometimes. That doesn't mean anything. Right? I needed evidence, just anything, to make it not true. I scrolled some more. There was a video, she was sitting on her sofa, with a girl playing the guitar sitting on the other end. "I've been running races on empty, Pour it up 'cause my cup so empty. Gotta make time for the real me. I've been running, I've been running on empty." And my nerves were settled again. I had only heard Blair sing a few times. She and her friends would pretend they were famous singers in early elementary years, and she'd always be the best. Then another time was in high school, at the winter talent show. I specifically remember it being A moment like this by Kelly Clarkson. It was unreal. 'Jujubee 💋💅🏽 is typing…' I clicked into Snapchat before she even had a chance to type the whole message. "Do you remember Jujubee?" I asked Piggie. Again, he was silent. 'I hope you're having fun, babe ❤ lv u'. "Thanks," was all I could manage to type. A shadow cast over me. I looked up to see Monét join me on the ground. "Hey, girl." She greeted me. "Hi, Aunt Monét." I smiled. Piggie hopped off my lap and onto hers. "Aunt Monét? Honey, you haven't called me that since middle school." She smiled. I returned the smile, only mine probably looking goofy. "I'm just wasted." "I noticed. No more shots for you anyway." She noted, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Anyway, how's the project?" "We got fucking Ed Sheeran involved." I then cursed myself internally for bringing it up. "I heard. Your Mom was telling me. Ugh, girl, why him? Why not someone like…" she paused to think, "like Beyonce. Or Lady Gaga." "OK, man-hater." I quipped, reaching over to pet Piggie. "Not true. Not all men are bad." Monét pointed out. "Speaking of which, when are you getting yourself one?" I could have given her the usual 'I don't have time for men's talk. But the alcohol said no. "Monét, I like girls." And I felt no shame in saying it. A moment of silence fell between us before she asked, "for real?" "Yeah." I nodded. "Does anyone else know?" "Yeah. Juju. And Piggie probably." I replied, leaving one more name out for the sole purpose I didn't want to get into that. "And Mom?" "Nope." She nodded. "I guess this is one of these aunty-niece confidentiality things?" "Uh-huh." I smiled. Bless Aunt Monét. "Well, no matter who you live, we still love you." She laughed for a moment before taking another drink. I knew
she was right. Maybe coming out to Mom wasn't such a bad idea. "You know what, Brianna?" She paused, "Grandpa would be so proud of you, right?" My smile slowly began to drop. Fuck, the touchy subject. "Oh, I...thanks." I thought the change in my mood was hard to miss, but Monét clearly had. "You and I ain't ever talked about him since...you know." "OK," I said quietly, feeling like my chest was a fist, beginning to clench tighter and tighter. "And sometimes, it's just good to look back on - -" "I gotta go." I quickly stood up, feeling the dark fog already come over me. I rushed from the room, my aunty calling my name and apologising. I avoided going into the living room, rushing up the stairs and racing for the bathroom. As soon as the door was locked, I let myself crumble, my face hidden beneath shaking hands, a cry clogged in my throat just begging to belt out. Mom would definitely hear it. I wasn't going to ruin her day. Absolutely not. Tags: rpdr fanfiction // s10 // as5 // miz cracker // jujubee // blair st clair // blair x cracker // denali foxx // rose // fluff // coming of age // hurt/comfort // lesbian au // highschool au // grinder // tw grief // tw homophobia [Cover image here] AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia [read more] 2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me
closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as
friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;
differing social circles (in my case, lack of),
her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,
her friends,
and, of course, my massive crush on her.
So, why was Blair the second reason as to why I dragged myself to school? Her smile. That was enough. As much as I tried to avoid her, the world decided to do a big "fuck you" on me and sometimes put us into situations together. And every time, I'd be internally freaking out. The worst was when we were both 16. It was that time of the year when the school would invite someone to subject us to the most humiliating moment of our lives. How the fuck were you supposed to put a condom on a banana without bursting out laughing? How the fuck were you supposed to sit there and keep a straight face when the educator used words like 'flaps'? We filed into the class, Jujubee and me taking seats at the back of the room. We knew this was going to be hilarious, so best to avoid the attention of the teacher. "Juju, I know you are dying to make jokes during this, but I'm begging you. Please don't." I spoke quietly to her as other students filed in. "But you know I'm going to, right?" Jujubee smirked, putting her bag on the ground. "No. We wanna keep a low profile. If we laugh, we draw attention, and then we risk being singled out. You know? We'll be at the front of the class demonstrating whatever this bitch asks us." Obviously, I was referring to putting condoms on bananas and the like. Juju, however, raised a brow, "I wouldn't mind that, babe. Don't worry. We won't need to take our clothes off." I stared at her for a few seconds, unable to think of how to respond to that. Jujubee winked, and I forced myself to look away. "That's not what I meant." Blair strolled in with Denali and Rosé, already I could feel my stomach knotting. They went to sit together somewhere in the middle. "Ugh, nope. I don't think so, ladies." Ah, Miss Jaida Hall, if only I could have warned you not to say what you were about to say. Somehow Blair and the two others knew she was speaking to them. She continued, "This is an important class, and I'm not gonna have you all laughing and snickering during it." She had a point. The three girls usually whispered to each other in class, giggling about all sorts of shit. It was never anything malicious about the lesson or teachers, just inside jokes with each other, pretty harmless stuff. But it pissed the teachers off so much. "You can't be serious, right?" Denali replied, clearly scandalised. "Very serious, actually." Ms Hall nodded, "Denali, sit with Brian. Rosé, with Gigi. Blair, with Brianna." I grabbed Jujubee by the wrist, the pressure making her squeak. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Blair was not rolling her eyes as she made her way to the back towards me. This was not fucking happening. As instructed, Jujubee stood up and let Blair sit down, moving to sit somewhere else. I was alone with the one person I tried my hardest to avoid. She slouched down in her chair, arms folded like she was already over it. I wanted so badly to ask if she was OK. But I couldn't bring myself to. And as the lights turned off and the sex-ed lady pressed play on the video player, I wished I had said something. As the way too enthusiastic narrator explained step by step the act of sexual intercourse, I tried hiding the blush on my face with my hair. I tried so hard to focus on what I was being taught. The truth was, I was still a virgin, as were many of the others in the room, I'm sure. But unlike them, I had no idea how sex worked. It wasn't something I ever gave time to think about. I felt a tapping on my hand. My body tensed as I glanced to the side. Blair was looking at the screen, then at me, then her fingers brushed against my hand. I stared back, unsure of what was happening but also knowing full well what she was doing. She leaned closer and pressed her lips on mine. … OK, that's not what happened. Life wasn't a movie. This was the beginning of the fantasies. Was I ashamed because I was thinking about Blair like that? Or was I ashamed that I enjoyed thinking of Blair like that? "This is ridiculous," Blair whispered. Was I supposed to say something back? "What do you mean?" I
whispered back. "Do they actually think we're that dumb? We all know how sex works. We don't need this stupid class." Blair rolled her eyes. I almost told her that I belonged to the small percentage that didn't know. But I stopped myself. I couldn't bear her knowing that information. Instead, I went with the awkward, "haha. Yeaaahhhh…" For the rest of the film, we sat in silence. Still trying to focus on the screen. Not the absolute stunner sitting next to me. And as if by magic, the video ended. I wanted to say I was relieved, but I couldn't lie; what I learned from the film left me nauseous. He puts his hoo-ha in her what, now?? "Well, that was really cool and hip, right?" The educator enthused. I cringed internally. No woman wearing a crucifix necklace and ankle-length skirt has the right to use words like 'cool' and 'hip'. "I know it's probably all so confusing. So that's why I'm here to answer any of your questions, dudes and dudettes." Already, one of the boys put a hand up. "Go ahead, homie." "What about the other hole?" He said with a straight face before his friends started laughing. He laughed back as he fired one of them. "You know. The back door?" Ms Hall shot him the 'look'. He was toast. The sex educator fixed her hair quite uncomfortable, "Well, there's a reason that is an out hole, young man. I warn all of you, do not go down that road. You will get aids and die. Now, does anybody else have a question?" The educator rambled, fixing her hair awkwardly. I heard the rustling of clothes beside me, and glancing around, Blair had her hand straight up in the air. "Yes, sweetheart?" Sex Ed lady pointed to her. "OK, so this is interesting and all, but I was just wondering, what about non-heterosexual sex?" Her brows knit for a moment. I looked around at her now. The breath caught in my throat. "I'm sorry?" Sex Ed lady asked. "You know. Man on man. Girl on girl. What about all of that?" Blair raised a brow. "I mean, you gotta know there's more than just heterosexual people out there. Maybe some even in this room right now." "Blair." Ms Hall began. "Because, if you disagree, then that's ridiculous. Oh, and if you think aids is some kind of death sentence, then you seriously need to educate yourself." Sex ed lady looked appalled, her Christian beliefs quite clearly threatened. "That's it. Get out." Ms Hall stood up. Blair huffed, pushing her seat back, lifted her bag and left the room, Ms Hall following behind. "OK. So, any other questions? Reasonable questions only, please." Jujubee was looking over her shoulder at me now, sharing the same expression I did. Thank God for lunch next period. Jujubee and I were hiding at the back of the school, in an alley between the building itself and the old workshops. The perfect hiding place for a smoke and to freak the fuck out about specific events. "Juju, she knows. She knows I'm a lesbian. She knows I like her." I paced. "I'm moving. That's it." I stopped. "But why would she speak up for me of all people? It doesn't make sense." My eyes widened. "Unless she's also a lesbian. I mean, that makes sense, right?" Jujubee had been sitting on the wall, patiently listening to my manic ramblings. The first few minutes, she was just as astounded. But the more I theorised, rambling on and on, she was over it. "I highly doubt that considering the boyfriend." "Then she must know. Why else would she say it? I highly doubt there are other gays in that class. Speaking of which, I had no idea lesbians could have sex like; how does that work. I'm gonna look into that somehow. But getting back to the point, if she did know, why would she speak out for me of all people?" My ramblings were non-stop. I tried my best to avoid Blair for the rest of the day, not that I could, considering we were both in the same last period. Blair's outburst was the talk of the school. I wasn't sure if it was a positive response or not. The only thing I did know was Trevor was pissed. "Brie, look." Jujubee tapped me. I turned from my locker and looked where everyone else seemed to be
looking. Just down the corridor, Trevor was standing over Blair, their conversation clearly heated. People were shamelessly moving closer, Jujubee following in their path. "Juju, don't," I whispered. But she didn't listen. I went after her as if it would stop her. "Trevor, this isn't that big of a deal," Blair said. "Not a big deal? Blair, do you know what the guys are saying? They think you're gonna dump me for a girl. Do you know how humiliating that is?" Trevor held a hand to his chest "And what if I did?" Blair challenged. The few people standing around cooed with excitement. "Oh, please. Don't get all cocky now that you have an audience." Trevor pointed. But Blair took a step closer to him. "What, 'cause you know you're the one who looks like an idiot? Maybe if you weren't so insecure, you'd know I would never do that to you." "Don't call me an idiot." Trevor lowered his tone, choosing purposely to ignore her reassurance. "Fine. But don't criticise me for a valid question I asked in a class you weren't even a part of. It's none of your business, no one's business for that matter." Blair bit back. "I can do what I want, Blair." "OK. Whatever." Blair brushed past him. Trevor quickly spun around, grabbing her arm. "No, we're not done having this conversation." My stomach twisted. "Let go of my arm, Trevor." Blair tugged, her voice cracking. Trevor did as was told now that the air was thick with tension, "We are not done talking," he stressed. Blair took a step back, "Yeah, we are, actually," and she turned to walk away. "If you walk away right now, we're finished." Trevor threatened. It was as if time was at a standstill, waiting for her reaction. But at the same time, it felt as though time was counting down. Like we were in a competition show. The contestant has to decide before time runs out, while the audience yells, 'DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!' No one was shouting, but you could feel everyone's excitement. Blair's lip curled upwards. "OK. Fine by me." And, finally, she walked off. The people were cooing with excitement again. "Shut up!" Trevor shouted. I grabbed Jujubee by the shoulder and ushered her back. Trevor kicked his locker, the thud echoing through the halls. That was the last straw. Knowing Trevor, he'd take his anger out on us. It was time to flee the scene. It was all Jujubee wanted to talk about for the rest of the day. Now I knew how she felt during my smoke break. But I couldn't blame her. The scene played in my head over and over again, leading to so many questions. Was there more to this breakup? Did he grab Blair like that all the time? What would happen now? Would she find a new guy? A girl, maybe? I came to the conclusion that Blair and Trevor's breakup was neither good nor bad. Bad because, as I said before, now he had more pent up anger from the humiliation of being so publicly dumped. Therefore, Jujubee and I would most likely be subject to more harassment. Good, because maybe Blair did like girls. Maybe there was still some little chance for us to be together. But if we were going to be together, there was one issue; I still had no fucking idea how lesbian sex worked. Cut to later that night, I'm in my room, sitting in front of my computer. I needed to distract myself from my thoughts of the breakup. While the scratchy dial-up tones emitted the machine, I psyched myself up. Even though I knew sex was normal to learn about at that age, it was still daunting. With shaky hands, I searched 'lesbian sex'. And fuck was it a mistake. What I wanted was educational articles, guides, etc. And what I got was porn. I watched all but a few minutes, all the painfully bad acting scenes that took place before the main event. Upon hearing the first moan, I clicked out as fast as I could. Looking behind me, Piggie was just playing with a stuffed animal on my bed. "You saw that, right?" He looked at me with perked ears. I still felt judged, so I opened my bedroom door and let him out. I needed to be exact. 'How do lesbians have sex?' And Brianna Caldwell was never the
same. My mind was opened that night. This was no mistake. This was a surprise. I couldn't look away from the computer screen, no matter how slow the Internet connection was. All of this information was all too much but not enough at the same time. And it made me feel less nauseated than I felt after watching that stupid video in class. And I built up the courage to go back to that porn site. And I watched every damn second. Then I watched another one. And another. And just one more 'cause why the fuck not? My bedroom door opened. "Brianna, I'm ordering - -" "Get out," I shouted, closing the site down like my life depended on it. But she stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide and hand still on the door frame. "Honey, are you - -" "Mom, oh my god. Can you just - -" I couldn't even form a proper sentence. She gave an apologetic look and closed the door. But she remained on the other side. "I just wanted you to know that I'm ordering pizza for Grandpa and me. Do you want some?" My forehead was in my hand now. "Yes." "What kind?" "Just…" I wanted to shout, "Pepperoni." And with that, she left. But that wasn't the end of it. When the food arrived, I waited a few minutes before going downstairs to grab a few slices. Grandpa was in the living room watching an old rerun of The A-Team. But she was there, in the kitchen, as if she was waiting for me. "Honey, look. I know you're getting to that age where you're curious about certain things and - -" "Mom, no. Please, don't do this." I whined. "I know. I know. I just wanted to let you know that this is natural, and…" she continued to deliver the same talk we all got in class. My eyes were wide, face red with humiliation. -_-_-_- 2020 I picked up a slice of pepperoni pizza, instantly reminded of the traumatic event. OK, maybe that was too strong of a word to use. But of course, you are going to dread the thought of that time your parent talked to you about sex. I walked into the living room, pizza slice in hand, trying not to dwell on the memory. "So, Brianna. Any update on the love life?" Tamisha asked. I loved that bitch; being one of Mom's closest friends, she was present for most of my life. But she always had a tendency to ask questions I wasn't up for answering. I took a bite from my pizza and answered with a full mouth, "dry." "Girl, you're almost 40." She continued. I was ready to challenge her because I was actually just 33 when Mom took her turn to speak. "Yeah, get yourself a man and make me a Grandma already." She wasn't serious. She knew I hated these types of talks, but that didn't stop her from encouraging the others. The funny thing about the time she caught me watching porn, she never clocked it was girl on girl. Of all the years I've been on this planet, I hadn't given her a clue that I was a lesbian. Would I ever tell her? I didn't see the point. From previous failed relationships and being too busy with my job, I wouldn't end up with someone anyway. But of course, I'd make an exception for a certain someone. Monét poured the first round of shots. I already knew I'd hate myself the next day. I wasn't drunk already. Just sort of buzzed. But that changed within an hour. I was hammered. Mom, Monét and all her friends were singing all the old songs in the living room. I was out in the kitchen, trying to drink 8 glasses of water. I only managed 3. Piggie ran in and put his paws up on my knee. "There he is. My baby. My fucking son." I slid down to the ground and let him sit in my lap. "How is your night going?" Just great, Brianna! Anyway, how about that Blair girl, huh? Piggie's non-existent voice said. "Oh yeah," my eyes narrowed. I unlocked my phone and opened up Facebook. And I bravely searched up her name. I say bravely because it does take some balls to go and stalk your crushes social media accounts. All it took to fuck everything up was the slip of a finger, and before you know it, you've liked a post or sent a friend request. "Let's do some digging, Piggie." I cuddled him. Immediately, she was the top result, with Jujubee
being the only mutual friend. "Yeah, girl. Infiltration." I commented as I clicked into her profile. And then her profile picture. "Holy shit." She hadn't aged. She still looked as young and radiant as she did back in high school. "What do you think, Piggie?" I showed him the screen. He glanced at it before tucking his head under his arms. The enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes. I looked at her info. 'Single'. Promising. Scrolling down to her timeline, I noticed she didn't post a lot. Fair enough. Facebook was becoming a dead site in recent years. There were just your average Facebook posts, sharing giveaway posts, a post from an old lady saying, 'Blair, this is Granny. Could you go to Walmart and get me some applesauce? Love granny xx', a shared post from a guy called George Miller. And my finger stopped scrolling upon seeing Blair holding a baby. "Oh God, we've encountered our first obstacle, Piggie," I whined. I clicked into the comments. That George Miller guy commented, 'congrats, Blair!' She replied, 'thank you, but she's my cousin's lol'. "Thank you, Jesus." I put my phone down for a moment to put my hand up to the good lord. I scrolled some more, seeing many inspirational quotes, a link to Adore You by Harry Styles. And a picture of her. With that George Miller guy. With his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her temple. I could feel my heart sink the more I studied it. Yeah, I knew Blair and I were never meant to be anyway. But it was still upsetting. Relax. They could be friends. Yeah, that's right. Friends hold each other and act all affectionate, right?? I cuddle with Jujubee sometimes. That doesn't mean anything. Right? I needed evidence, just anything, to make it not true. I scrolled some more. There was a video, she was sitting on her sofa, with a girl playing the guitar sitting on the other end. "I've been running races on empty, Pour it up 'cause my cup so empty. Gotta make time for the real me. I've been running, I've been running on empty." And my nerves were settled again. I had only heard Blair sing a few times. She and her friends would pretend they were famous singers in early elementary years, and she'd always be the best. Then another time was in high school, at the winter talent show. I specifically remember it being A moment like this by Kelly Clarkson. It was unreal. 'Jujubee 💋💅🏽 is typing…' I clicked into Snapchat before she even had a chance to type the whole message. "Do you remember Jujubee?" I asked Piggie. Again, he was silent. 'I hope you're having fun, babe ❤ lv u'. "Thanks," was all I could manage to type. A shadow cast over me. I looked up to see Monét join me on the ground. "Hey, girl." She greeted me. "Hi, Aunt Monét." I smiled. Piggie hopped off my lap and onto hers. "Aunt Monét? Honey, you haven't called me that since middle school." She smiled. I returned the smile, only mine probably looking goofy. "I'm just wasted." "I noticed. No more shots for you anyway." She noted, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Anyway, how's the project?" "We got fucking Ed Sheeran involved." I then cursed myself internally for bringing it up. "I heard. Your Mom was telling me. Ugh, girl, why him? Why not someone like…" she paused to think, "like Beyonce. Or Lady Gaga." "OK, man-hater." I quipped, reaching over to pet Piggie. "Not true. Not all men are bad." Monét pointed out. "Speaking of which, when are you getting yourself one?" I could have given her the usual 'I don't have time for men's talk. But the alcohol said no. "Monét, I like girls." And I felt no shame in saying it. A moment of silence fell between us before she asked, "for real?" "Yeah." I nodded. "Does anyone else know?" "Yeah. Juju. And Piggie probably." I replied, leaving one more name out for the sole purpose I didn't want to get into that. "And Mom?" "Nope." She nodded. "I guess this is one of these aunty-niece confidentiality things?" "Uh-huh." I smiled. Bless Aunt Monét. "Well, no matter who you live, we still love you." She laughed for a moment before taking another drink. I knew
she was right. Maybe coming out to Mom wasn't such a bad idea. "You know what, Brianna?" She paused, "Grandpa would be so proud of you, right?" My smile slowly began to drop. Fuck, the touchy subject. "Oh, I...thanks." I thought the change in my mood was hard to miss, but Monét clearly had. "You and I ain't ever talked about him since...you know." "OK," I said quietly, feeling like my chest was a fist, beginning to clench tighter and tighter. "And sometimes, it's just good to look back on - -" "I gotta go." I quickly stood up, feeling the dark fog already come over me. I rushed from the room, my aunty calling my name and apologising. I avoided going into the living room, rushing up the stairs and racing for the bathroom. As soon as the door was locked, I let myself crumble, my face hidden beneath shaking hands, a cry clogged in my throat just begging to belt out. Mom would definitely hear it. I wasn't going to ruin her day. Absolutely not.
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fangirlxwritesx67 · 4 years
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Paper Rings
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au college Sam Winchester x OFC Dani  Word Count: 1300 Tags: none, literally, this is a fluff bomb of cute fluffy love and soft baby Sammy feels, stationery shopping, kisses. *** This one is for the best fanfic reviewer in the whole world, @dawnie1988​. Her request: Fluff. All the fluff. I want to be smothered in it. I’m thinking Sam this time, either canon or canon adjacent Sam or something a little more in the stratosphere of your au ‘Show Me How’ type Sam, dealer’s choice on that one Song Inspiration: Paper Rings by: Taylor Swift *** "There's nothing like a brand new notebook to make you feel like anything is possible, right?" Sam started. Was she talking to him? He turned his head to see a dark haired girl smiling eagerly at him. "It's the best part of a new school year. The new notebooks, the new pens. Even though we're in college now, I still love it." She was looking at him, her dark eyes sparkling, clearly expecting him to say something. "Uh, no." He stammered out. "Oh, yeah, I guess maybe dudes aren't as into that?" Before he could answer, she continued. "Anyway, hi, I'm Dani. I'm so excited to be in this class. Aren't you?"
“No, I mean, yes.” Sam wasn’t usually this flustered. “No, it’s just, my parents weren’t really the ‘back to school’ shopping type. But yes, I’m looking forward to Educational Psychology.” Apparently that answer was enough to encourage Dani.
“Are you going to be a teacher? I am. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. It runs in my family. My grandpa taught high school, and my dad is a professor. Even my mom teaches music. I want to teach Middle School. I feel like those kids just have so much potential, you know? Like, if you catch them there, you can change the course of their lives.”
“Uh, I’m Pre-Law.” Sam was trying to keep up and formulate some kind of response. “I’m Sam.” 
“Nice to meet you, Sam.” Dani flashed him a bright smile and then turned to the front of the room as the professor walked in and called Educational Psychology to order. Sam was relieved to settle into the familiar territory of lecture, reading and taking notes. It was much easier than keeping up with Dani’s endless stream of chatter. 
At the end of the class, he had to hurry to his next one, which he had unwisely scheduled across campus. But the next time he walked into the classroom, there was Dani. She seemed to have been waiting for him, hardly letting him sit down before she launched into a discussion that covered the last class as well as the homework for this class. 
Sam was surprised to discover, in the flow of her words, that she had an astute grasp of the topic. He found himself agreeing with what she had to say, mostly in his head, of course, because she didn’t give him much chance to answer. When the class started, she responded to the professor’s questions with the same kind of enthusiasm - verbose, but knowledgeable. 
From that day, Sam and Dani seemed to fall into easy companionship. They sat side by side in class, they studied together for tests, and they managed to team up for group projects. 
They were friends, nothing more, but Sam treasured it. Dani was everything he was not: confident, chatty, secure in herself. He could tell that she was grounded by the support of her parents, who were present and caring, affirming her and encouraging her interests. It was a sharp contrast to his lost mother and distant father. 
Sam and Dani studied for finals together like they had for everything else. For Educational Psychology, of course, but also for their other classes, sharing study tips and quizzing one another. The library was closing for the night when Sam stretched and looked at her. They had been lost in their books for hours.
“I don’t know about you, but I can only learn so much on an empty stomach. Wanna hit the diner?” Sam stood up and stretched. Dani agreed eagerly. 
Once they were seated at a booth, Sam declared a study-free zone. He was launching into one of his favorite topics, about how brains need time to process, when Dani interrupted.  
“I agree, Sam. No more school work.” She reached out and took his hand. He startled into silence. “Let’s just talk about us.”
As usual, Dani talked the most, saying ten words for every one of his. But the words he did say were honest, heartfelt. She made him feel comfortable enough to tell a little bit of the truth about his life. Dani listened intently, her expressive face displaying every emotion: sadness, confusion, and ultimately, concern. 
“So the day we met, when you said your parents were not really the back to school shopping type, this is what you were talking about?”
“I… guess.” Sam wasn’t used to talking this much about himself. He felt himself get quiet, retreat back inward. He felt like maybe he had shared too much. 
“That’s too bad. You really deserve better, you know?” 
Sam was unsure how to react to such honest caring, so he shrugged. “It is what it is.” He answered dismissively.  He paid for dinner and drove Dani back to her dorm. Like a gentleman, he got out of the car to open her door. 
He was caught off guard when she threw her arms around his neck. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him. 
Kissing Dani was the easiest thing in the world. Sam already knew her, trusted her. Kissing her felt right. And at the same time-
“Dani, you don’t have to-”
She pulled back, her hands still locked around his neck, to look him full in the face. “Sam Winchester, I don’t do anything because someone thinks I have to. I want to, I want this, I want you.” 
Sam wasn’t used to anyone knowing him, seeing him, much less wanting him. For a long moment he was silent, leaning his forehead against hers without speaking, their lips barely brushing.
“Kiss me once,” she whispered,  “Kiss me twice, I’ve been waiting for this.”
He knew Dani, trusted her, so he let himself get lost in the moment. When she finally pulled away, reluctantly, the only thing he could find to say was, “Thank you.” 
***
Sam and Dani finished at the top of their class in Educational Psychology. That class was the rule rather than the exception. Sam ended the semester with grades that would get him on the Dean’s List and guarantee two more years of scholarships. That was what he needed, to prove himself, to make this work. 
Dani went home to her family, to enjoy the break and celebrate the holidays together. Sam took an overnight bus to the last town Dean had mentioned, and when his brother wasn’t there, he hitch hiked until he found him. 
Dean greeted him with a giant hug. 
“College boy, huh? Hope you’re not too fancy for spaghetti-os and some bad TV reruns with your big brother, huh?” 
“Never.” Sam answered quickly.
*** Sam moved back to college for the spring semester at his earliest chance. He had kept in touch with Dani by text over the break, so he was not surprised when she returned to campus. What did surprise him was her insistence that they go to Target. 
“I need things for my dorm,” she said. But when they got there, she skipped the housewares section entirely and headed straight to the office supplies. 
Sam stood in the aisle between the sharpies and the binders, taking in the color coordinated staplers and stationery. 
“It’s not back to school season, really.” Dani said. “But pick your notebooks.”
Sam shook his head, baffled. “No, I can get what I need at the dollar store.” 
Dani almost stomped her foot. “C’mon Sam. This is my favorite thing, and I want to share it with you.” She took in his expression. “You can have nice things. You deserve this.”
At her urging, he picked up a few notebooks, a folder or two, and then a set of pens. 
She held his hand as they left the store. “See, now that you have new school supplies, don’t you feel like anything is possible? ” 
Sam took her face in both hands and kissed her, right there outside of Target. 
“Wrap your arms around me, baby boy,” she murmured as she sank into his embrace. 
“With you, Dani,” he murmured finally, “You’re the one I want. Yeah, anything is possible.”  *** This one’s unbeta’d so all the mistakes are on me. *** SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @divadinag @emoryhemsworth @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @kalesrebellion @kickingitwithkirk @maddiepants @magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff @lilsylvia @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ Gay Screaming: @boondoctorwho​, @cracksinthewalls​, @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​, @justcallmeasmodeus​, @lastactiontricia​ @mskathywriteswords​, @rockhoochie​, @there-must-be-a-lock​, @thoughtslikeaminefield​
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beybladeimagines · 4 years
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Your writing is sooo good! :o have been following you for a short while now and you do the requests so perfectly! Was wondering if it would be possible to get some family related headcanons for the blade breakers? Like your thoughts on how they interact with their families? Also congrats on the new job role! :)
Mod Note: Thank you so much, bby! I hope you’re doing well and are having an amazing start to your new year. :)
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TYSON: Tyson has a very interesting relationship and take on his family. First things first, we have to acknowledge how his father and brother essentially left him behind and forced his grandfather to raise him. These are the ugly facts, but Tyson kind of…pushes that out of his mind. I imagine, in an attempt to cope with this abandonment, he decided to appropriate the narrative that he was exposed to. In other words, he told himself that sometimes people need to leave others behind if they’re going to achieve their dreams - but he always told himself that they’d come back, because… why wouldn’t they? He’s tried to convince himself that all of these things happened for a reason. Although Tyson attempts to be optimistic about his situation and claims it doesn’t affect him negatively, he has become rather clingy and takes people leaving him rather personally. He loves his grandfather and although Tyson travels a lot, he greatly encourages his grandfather to come see just about every match he’s in. And grandpa does just that… He goes to every match, watches it on TV, and thinks about his grandson often. He really worries about him. And although he loves his own son and Hiro unconditionally, he doesn’t want Tyson to pick up on the same habits as them.
When Tyson sees Hiro again, he’s elated in such a way that we’ve never seen before. We don’t see that much emotion when his own team comes back together. I think Tyson has always known that his friends would come back to him, but when it comes to family… He was probably deeply terrified that he’d never see them again. He holds Hiro to such a high standard and once saw him as someone who could do no wrong. After all, he returned to help him train and become world champion, right? Well… Hiro has some questionable ways of pushing Tyson. As an outsider, their interactions aren’t that healthy and are borderline manipulative. Tyson slowly begins to see this, but doesn’t allow himself to really showcase his disappointment. However, it does motivate him to become a better person and to not let his own team down. Think about it. Throughout G-Rev, we see Tyson’s selfishness and how he’s constantly trying to improve. And then Hiro comes along and is basically doing whatever he wants at Tyson’s expense. Tyson gets to see, first hand, just how much his own actions deeply hurt others. He doesn’t want to be like his brother anymore, or probably his own dad. He’s more likely to keep his grandfather close (even closer now, after all the bullshit) and see his own friends as family members.
MAX: In the manga, you really see just how much Max loves and misses his mom. He gets defensive about her picture, and often locks himself in his room to reflect upon his memories of her. You can tell it’s still a fresh wound and not one that he simply internalizes like Tyson. The sad truth is, she kinda left him behind as well to do her own thing. Additionally, she essentially formed a brand new team that consisted of children who’s only goal was to meet her expectations. Upon seeing this, Max honestly felt like he had to compete for his own mothers attention and approval, despite being her blood. Instead of being devastated by this blatant act of being replaced, Max actually continues to strive for her approval. He truly sees her as someone who can do no wrong and he probably interprets her actions as her motivating him to become stronger. It’s not that Judy doesn’t like her son… Rather, I think she’s so wrapped up in her work that she’s literally forgotten how to raise a child. Alternatively, maybe she just wasn’t ready, maybe she never knew how, maybe she placed that burden on Max’s dad because she was making good money for them. Regardless, something happened to make her so distant from her own child. She’s honestly surprised to see how persistent Max is for her affection. 
I do imagine that it does impact her. I do think she loves him, but has a very strange and arguably cold way of showing it. However, Max is literally sunshine incarnate. He refuses to see her as something to hate and is extremely grateful for what she’s been able to do for him. Max’s father is also seen in a positive light. In truth, Max is so amazed by how hard his dad worked to raise him, put food on the table, support his hobby, and help him travel. There’s no denying the amount of love Max has for his own dad, but I think he clings to his mom so much, because he just wants there to be both. He doesn’t want one parent working more or harder than the other. He just craves a sense of stability where everyone is just…happy and here and eating at the same table without worrying about research or making deadlines. Although he gets along great with both folks, it’s evident that the dynamic does take a toll on him, but he thinks he has to keep smiling in order for everything to seem like its really okay.
RAY: We don’t know that much about his family, except for the uncle in France. However, we do know that he spent much of his childhood with his friends moreso than any blood relatives. I imagine Ray didn’t have much of a connection with his family. As a child, he’s somewhat of a wild one. He often goes where he pleases, does what he pleases, and most likely sneaks out just to see his friends for a little longer. Perhaps his parents just weren’t there, or maybe they didn’t approve of his newfound fascination for blading. When we find out that Ray left the White Tigers, we have to realize that this also means he left his entire village behind too (including his own home and family). And it was…relatively easy. I imagine he suspected he’d come across his team again, but he probably wasn’t too concerned with what his family thought. They probably thought he was reckless or maybe didn’t apply the same amount of significance to Driger. I’m not trying to imply that his family didn’t love him; rather, I think their ideas of success and genuine goals just clashed. Ray’s family most likely came to peace with his departure as years progressed. They’re probably mindful of his success, but do their best not to speak of it. Perhaps its out of embarrassment (like, they feel ashamed for not having more faith) or maybe they just don’t want to think about their son leaving them.
When Ray returns, I imagine the reunion is rather intense. Although his friends are the first to greet him, I suspect he came across his parents during the evening. They exchange moments of silence, but I envision his mother breaking down and wrapping her arms around Ray out of relief. This is probably one of the first times that his parents were vulnerable around him. Ray doesn’t really know how to feel, but he returns the hug anyway. A weight practically leaves him when they have this moment. Like they finally get it, like he doesn’t have to explain himself. I imagine they’re working on restoring a sense of normalcy amongst one another, but Ray’s actually really excited about having even more supportive forces in his life.
KAI: Kai actually…really fucking loves his family. I’ve only ever seen him smile when he was around them. Granted, there is a rather complicated and traumatic past concerning the relatives in his life. Kai wants nothing to do with his grandfather, although he appreciates the expensive opportunities and power that he gave him. Despite these “gifts,” Kai just wants to take everything from Voltaire, replace him, and show him how better off he is without his manipulative meddling. Kai is also in the process of rebuilding his connection with his father and seeing him in a better light. For so long, Kai thought that his father chose his dream over him, but this became another manipulated narrative spun by his own grandfather. Later on, Kai realized that his father just didn’t want to be like Voltaire and chose to follow his own path, which he hoped Kai would eventually do as well. Kai realizes the genuine intentions his father had and how he also wanted the best for him (and not just a bunch of random kids). 
When it comes to his mother, I imagine Kai is extremely close with her. She was really trying her best to keep things stable in the house and give Kai the love he so desperately needed. I see him rejecting her efforts at first. He was probably worried that she’d leave him too. But she probably spent so many sleepless nights waiting up for him when he’d sneak out and making sure he had enough to eat. There were many times when she thought he’d never come home. She practically sunk to the floor with relief every time she cracked his bedroom door open and saw him there sleeping. Now that his family is back together and his life isn’t based off a series of lies, Kai actually looks forward to coming home. He’s rather quiet and actually avoids his parents gaze, especially at the dinner table. It’s when he’s with family that he realizes just how much crazy shit he’s done or gotten into - so he feels ashamed. His parents only look at him with complete pride and admiration. I imagine they hug him so tightly the moment he walks through the door and he’s got to fight back so many tears because damn… He feels the love and attention he’s been so desperately craving.
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purplesurveys · 5 years
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Have you ever been served breakfast in bed? Sure. When we don’t feel like having breakfast at the table together as a family, my mom just brings up food for us when we wake up. What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked? I don’t cook or bake at all but back when we had to do it in home ec, I remember how hard macarons were to make (if this counts). Baking in general demands precision, it’s just that the skill needed to make macarons is pumped up to the max. Are you one to approach others, or let them approach you first? I let people approach me because I’m shy most of the time. When was the last time you took painkillers? Saturday. My toothaches struck once again and I didn’t want to be burdened while at dinner with Gab, so I had to take a painkiller for the second time that day. Have you ever picked flowers out of someone else's garden without asking? No. That’s kind of a dick move.
Who did you give them to, or did you keep them for yourself? What is your favorite thing to do as a little kid? I loved being allowed to play outside. My grandma was very strict with us and would sometimes not allow us to go outside and play with our neighbors – if we were allowed, we only could from 4 to 6 PM. So whenever we got to go out and play it was always really fun, even though I almost always went home sporting a new gash, cut, or wound. Then when we came back home, Nickelodeon would usually have an awesome program schedule, followed by changing the channel to Cartoon Network at 7 so we could watch Pokemon, then we’d flick the channel to Disney because Mr. Bean airs around 9 PM. Are holidays as fun for you now as they were when you were younger? I looked forward to holidays more when I was a kid because it was before a bunch of my relatives migrated to different countries. It’s never the same without them, which is often the case these days. Do you find non-fiction to be boring? I find fictional works to be boring, but I can spend hours reading non-fiction content. Are you a punctual person? Or are you always late? Yes, I hate being late.  Do you own a thesaurus? Do you actually use it? I owned a thesaurus because I had to back in grade school, but I’m not sure if I actually ever threw it out or not. Nowadays Google can easily be a thesaurus if I need it for that purpose. What is the longest essay or research paper you have written? It was our final paper for my communication research class last semester. If I remember correctly, it has about 90 pages.  Do you ever write your own short stories? I tried doing it when I was 12 or 13, but I didn’t find it fun. Also I was never creative enough for it and got bored real quick. I envy people who can write very good short stories. Have you ever won money by entering a contest/raffle? Raffles are a Filipino favorite and we have a lot of them, so yeah I’ve won some cash here and there. Have you ever lost something very valuable? Of course. The first valuable thing I ever lost was my first ever cellphone, given to me as a 7th birthday gift by my parents; I lost it while on a school field trip. I’ve always felt bad about that. Have you ever lost something with a lot of sentimental value? In high school, I lost a watch that my mom gave me. It was a super pretty watch and again, I haaaaated myself when I realized I had misplaced it.   Have you ever been close to drowning? Yes. When I was nine, my cousins and I went for a swim in our clubhouse’s pool. I was swimming at the deep end – which I normally could handle by myself – but suddenly one of my cousins grabbed at my legs which kept me from being able to lift my head above water because it felt like I was being dragged further down. Have you ever had a panic attack? Yes. I haven’t had one in a couple of years though, so I guess that’s good. What stores do you go into when you go to mall? I’m not a big store person when I go malling, but when I do stop by shops, it’s usually stationery stores, bookstores, or stores that sell cute novelty stuff like weird coasters, flasks, alarm clocks, etc. Do you ever stop to eat in the food court? Only if we want a quick snack to get by, like shawarma or corndogs. As much as possible I like eating in sitdown restaurants. Do you find it easy to relate to other people? These days, yeah. I’ll admit that when I was younger, I used to put a premium on being ‘not like other teenagers’ BAHAHAHAHA YUCK, but tbh there’s no shame in being able to relate to many others in terms of music or TV shows or other similar interests. It helps me gain friends, which is always a plus. Who is your favorite philosopher? I hate philosophy more than anything else in this planet. What is your favorite song to sing? OMG Thinking of You by Katy Perry easily takes the cake for this one. Do you consciously try to be unique, or do you just be you? I’m just me for the most part. Do you worry about being judged by other people? Sometimes, but it’s usually for stuff like having to borrow a pen in class, or having to ask for a piece of yellow pad – basically stuff that would make people think I was irresponsible haha. If someone doesn't like you, do you usually want to know the reason? Yes, just out of curiosity. But I wouldn’t feel like it’s the end of the world if I never got to know why. When was the last time you told someone something really important? A couple of weeks ago; I had to tell Gab I passed out quietly for a few minutes in the restroom in the middle of PE. The workout was too difficult and I didn’t have my water bottle with me that day, so I felt queasy quickly. Have you ever lost a large amount of money? Thankfully, no. The only time I lost my wallet, there was only around ₱600 in it. Have you ever tried to blame something you did on someone else? I mostly did it when I was a kid and blamed my little sister or brother for something. Did that person get in trouble, or did the plan fail? Failed, obviously.
What is the weirdest hairstyle you have ever had? I never went with weird hairstyles but my worst look will always be rebonded hair. I have a square face with a very strong jaw; completely straight hair has never suited me. Describe the ugliest pair of shoes you own? I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to wear shoes I thought were ugly, haha. How many times a day do you look in the mirror? For how long? Maybe a few times. Once before I leave the house, then maybe one or two times from my webcam just so I know how I currently look while in school, then again when I get home. Are you ashamed to leave the house when not looking your best? Not ashamed, just uncomfortable. If you are antisocial, WHY are you that way? That’s a legitimate personality disorder and I prefer we didn’t throw that word around like it’s nothing. Are you modest? Well I used to be, back when I was in Catholic school. I still hold some traditional sentiments here and there but I wouldn’t call myself modest. What is your favorite singer? Beyonce or Hayley Williams, for sure. If you could relive one day from last year, what day would it be? Why? April 21, 2018! It was my birthday and my first time driving out of town by myself. Gab and I went to Nasugbu for a day trip to the beach and Tagaytay for dinner. It was soooooo so fun even though we were exhausted afterwards and I was fighting to keep my eyes open while driving by that evening.   What is something that you are afraid to fail at? Something I’m supposed to be really good at, like writing. What would happen if you did fail at it? I’d feel insecure for a long time and for that period, no one would be able to encourage me and make me feel better. Do you ever worry about your loved ones dying? Ever since my grandpa and now Nacho passed away, yes. What is the cutest thing a guy could do for a girl? The cutest thing anyone* can do for anyone* is making time for them, I guess. I’m not very picky when it comes to showing love. Stuffed animals--immature, or should everyone have one? Neither. I don’t mind them but I don’t hate them. What do you like in your breakfast burritos? I don’t think I’ve ever had a breakfast burrito. What restaurant would you choose to go to for breakfast? Rustic Mornings, La Creperie, or Eggs For Breakfast! How much money do you think you cost your parents? Millions. Do you have good hand/eye coordination? Only when it comes to table tennis. I generally wouldn’t call myself skilled at catching stuff. Can you do a flip on a trampoline? I haven’t tried, and I think I’d be too scared to anyway. Do you remember the last time you climbed a tree? I don’t think I’ve ever climbed a tree...most trees here are riddled with red ants. Did you ever lie on your back and pick shapes out of clouds as a kid? Sure, but I didn’t do it all the time nor does it feel nostalgic to me. Do you watch any Japanese anime? Other than watching Pokemon when I was a kid, no. Is there a foreign culture you are interested in learning more about? I’m always interested in learning all foreign cultures. Do you let your emotions get the best of you in a fight? Sometimes. Do you know anyone whose reputation has recently been ruined? That’s what happened to Nach. It’s why I was always more gentle in dealing with him than everyone else, because I knew just how damaged his rep was after what happened. I didn’t want to add to that anymore. When did you first get a cellphone? I got my first one on my 7th birthday. Do you have your own laptop computer? Yes. How about your own digital computer? Like...a cellphone or calculator? I guess, yeah lmao. Do you drive your own car, or your parents? I’ve been given my own car for me to drive, but my parents bought it and own it. Say something inappropriate? Cunt. Always been my least favorite bad word. What were you doing before you started taking this survey? I washed the dishes. Describe the best summer you ever had? I don’t like my summers. It’s not a part of the year I look fondly on. Do you eat any meat other than turkey on Thanksgiving? I don’t celebrate that holiday. Did you attend a pre-school? My only other school apart from UP has a preschool, elementary, and high school. I studied there for 14 years. We also have a college, but it’s in our Makati campus.  Do you remember what it was like to learn to count to 100? Not really. What is something you lost in the process of growing up? The concept of looking to my mom if I have any problems. Do you wear any wristbands? If so, what's on them? Nope, I do not. What was the last picture you were in? We took a family photo over lunch yesterday. Did you have required reading material in high-school? We had required reading material from Prep all the way to senior year in high school. Do you keep your room organized? I try to. It becomes messy slowly over time but I always end up tidying my room. Do you vacuum daily? I don’t. How many board games do you own? A couple. I have Scrabble, Pictionary, and Trivial Pursuit. Own any books? ...Of course. Recently checked any books out from the library? Nah that was about a month ago. I recently returned a (overdue) book though. Does your cat give you kitty kisses? My dog gives me a single lick to the face whenever I come home from school. What’s in your make-up bag? I don’t have one.
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humourtalia · 5 years
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[Hi, Admin here! I’ve put this under a cut because it’s long, and it's got some heavy stuff in there--look at the tags to decide if it’s safe for you to read. The following is what anon wrote, and my response will be signposted beneath. Okay, let’s go!]
*The submit box wouldn’t let me submit without a picture, so I thought this rant picture would be kind of appropriate?
Anon Submission:
Hi there! First of all, I wanted to thank everyone on the blog for holding this event, I’ve already submitted a couple of rants and it’s been super helpful to write things out and see what advice others may have. I wanted to use the submit for this one though because it may get a little long and I didn’t want to send several asks. Sorry in advance!
So I recently graduated from college and I’ve moved back in with my parents. I’ve noticed that my moods have really deteriorated since I’ve been home. Like I get into these funks and I tend to isolate myself until I feel better. They do pass, but my bad mental health days are awful. I’m not sure if I have depression or if it’s just a case of the blues coming by often, but sometimes it seems like every other day I have them. My parents don’t think I have depression, but I do wonder sometimes. 
My dad was raised “traditionally” and honestly, he’s pretty conservative (i.e he believes the mom should raise the kids and do house work and the dad should get an income, etc.) and honestly, part of me thinks that he believes his kids should be seen and not heard, or that he thinks he’s above me because I’m his daughter (or maybe because he’s a man, idk.). He sometimes also uses racial slurs and when I tell him not to use those words, he gets angry. A few weeks ago, there was an incident where he got a little physical when he was angry. It never happened before, so I was stunned. Like my mom and dad needed to resolve an issue on the phone and the company we called hung up on us. So, my dad calls them back and mimicked the loud, blaring sound that played when we got disconnected. I told him to stop it because I didn’t want him to deafen the person on the other line, but then he got mad at me. When he handed the phone over to my mom, he shoved me and then got into my face and told me never to “override him”. I thought he was going to hit me, so I was really scared. I talked to him about the incident, and apparently when I told him to stop he thought I was yelling at him? I don’t remember yelling at him as loud as he said, and part of me thinks he’s gaslighting me and trying to excuse his actions. He did end up apologizing for upsetting me, but it felt insincere. Like he said “I’m sorry you took offense”. He also kept making excuses for his behavior, like he was in a hurry and that he couldn’t say excuse me when he was on the other line and that apparently I was yelling at him. He said that he still loved me, but that wasn’t my main concern. I’m afraid that anytime he gets mad now, he’s going to use intimidation tactics on me and the whole thing just leaves an icky feeling inside of me and I’m having a difficult time moving past this bad memory. And honestly, he just seemed to want to move on from it. Almost like he was being kind of dismissive? I’m trying to remember that my dad is human and that he makes mistakes, but I don’t want to excuse his behavior either. I feel bad for dwelling on it because he’s done a lot of good for me like paying for college and financially supporting me and encouraging me but it’s just hard to see some of his less than ideal qualities. I don’t feel like I got all of the closure I needed from talking about the incident, and I kind of want to talk to him about it again, but I don’t want to open a can of worms.
My mom wasn’t happy about the incident either but the thing with her is that she treats me as her personal therapist sometimes. Like anytime she has a problem with my dad, she’ll talk to me about it (this is probably at least partially because my dad loves to avoid conflict and he doesn’t like talking about issues. Also he tends to dismiss things sometimes.). She makes excuses that her mom (my grandma) told her about her own marital problems, but that doesn’t mean it’s healthy. My mom constantly sees my grandma anyway because my mom is basically my grandma’s caregiver. Like my grandma is very dependent and now that my grandpa has passed away, my grandma relies on my mom to help out. It seems like my mom doesn’t live for herself, only doing things for other people. She doesn’t really have any hobbies, she just kind of vegetates when she has free time and watches TV or eats or buys stuff off of ebay (which I introduced her to). So now the house is cluttered and despite saying she’ll purge, my mom never does. And that has also caused friction in the house because my dad complains to my mom about how messy the house is and then she complains to me.
I feel obligated for my mom’s happiness because she claims that I’m the only good thing in her life and honestly, I feel like she would be a lot happier without me. She basically gave up her life to raise my sister and I and I feel like she solely identifies herself as a mother. Nothing else. Like if she doesn’t have someone to take care of, she’s lost. I feel like by being born, I robbed my mom of her life and happiness because she always had to look out for her kids and she didn’t do anything for herself. Without me, I feel like my mom and dad would have gotten out of their failed marriage sooner but I don’t think they’ll ever divorce now. I’ve told both of them that I wish they’d never had me but they both insist that they love me and they’re happy to have me. I still feel like a burden though. When I have my bad mental health days, I just want to sleep forever. I’ve asked my mom not to tell me about her marital problems, but then I feel bad for leaving her to fend for herself because she has no one else to talk to. She also continues to talk to me about her problems, but it’s tiring and it usually sours my mood. So for now I just try to tune her out when she complains.
Moving out isn’t an option right now because of housing costs and the fact that I don’t have a paying job yet. But I’m working on getting one though! In the meantime, I can help my parents with cooking and cleaning, even if they drive me up a wall sometimes. If anyone has any advice on dealing with this, I would really appreciate it, but if not, I think that just writing everything down has done wonders for my mood. Again, thank you so, so much for holding this event. I really appreciate the place to vent and I hope you all have a happy 2019!
Admin’s response:
First things first, I am so sorry about all of this. It’s a really difficult situation, and I’m not sure how much I can help, but I’ll try! At the very least, I’m glad writing it out helped.
Putting my psychology hat on, I can’t say for certain you have depression, but it seems very likely to me. What makes me think that are your feelings of guilt and fatigue (i.e. seeing yourself as a burden, wanting to not exist). Those are very worrying thought patterns, and tend to come with depression. Combined with the low moods, it’s pretty clear you’re suffering a depressive episode.
Fortunately, it sounds like it might be temporary--at least at this severity--rather than lifelong. What I mean by that is that it’s been triggered by a life event, and that means you have a good chance of recovery. The general life event is obvious: moving back home and being caught in the middle of your parent’s problems. More specifically, I think it might be the fact that you’re unable to talk these things out with anyone. Your father dismissed you, and your mother has issues that you don’t want to worsen by piling on your own. However, when you can’t talk about your emotions properly, you can’t process them properly, and your mind struggles to carry around open wounds like that. It doesn’t know what to do with all those unresolved emotions, so it shuts down, and you get a low mood.
The immediate solution, then, is to talk this stuff out. Mum and dad aren’t options, but any good friends would be perfect. If you don’t want to share with them, though, I’m happy to hear your rants. Whatever helps you to get them out, process what you’re feeling, and allows you to move on.
(However, if this explanation doesn’t sound right, and you don’t think it matches up with what you’re going through, that’s okay. This might not be the right explanation, but there is one! This is just one possibility based on what you’ve told me.)
As for what to do about your life situation, that’s incredibly difficult. Your father’s escalation in his behaviour is deeply worrying, and you should not feel bad for dwelling on it at all. Humans make mistakes, yes, but good humans own up to them. By the sounds of it, he didn’t. Just because he’s financially provided for you, it doesn’t mean you owe him the benefit of the doubt. As a parent, providing for his children is his responsibility. It’s a duty he has to you, not a gift he gives to you. You’re allowed to be critical and wary of him, and given what he did, I think it’s incredibly appropriate to be. You seem like a good person, who wants to challenge his immoral behaviour, but don’t do it if it puts you in danger. You need to focus on keeping yourself and your mother safe.
Speaking of your mother, I know it’s really difficult to care for someone else’s mental health when your own is in tatters, but I think it’s important that you do. Even if you nod sympathetically throughout her complaints and do nothing else, that’s helpful. She’s clearly going through so much, and she needs support just as much as you do. Hopefully, if you can take care of yourself, you should have more energy to help her. This is horrible to say, but as an ulterior motive, if things do escalate further with your father, having her on your side could be a lifesaver.
As for the guilt you feel about your mother, you needn’t feel it. A mother feels accomplished if she can give her children a better life than she had. It sounds like she’s proud of you, proud of what you’ve done with your life so far, and that is why you’re the one good thing in her life--because you are the proof that it all wasn’t in vain. I think as well, perhaps, that the potential for your parents to divorce is still there. Sounds weird to say that like it’s a good thing. Once you move out, that may make your mother reconsider staying with your father, since the thing tying them together is now gone. And this is really horrible and morbid to say, but your grandmother will one day pass away, and your mother will regain some of her independence again. Life doesn’t end when you settle down and have kids, there’s still potential for her to do plenty more with hers.
Anyway, overall, I just want to say props to you for dealing with all this--your parents problems, as well as your own. And the fact that you’re still working on getting a job and helping around the house despite all of this is so impressive. You are strong, and resilient, and you will recover. If you can live through this, you can do absolutely anything. I am so proud of you and like I said, I am always willing to hear you out if you need to rant. I hope you have a much better 2019 <3
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swanderful1 · 7 years
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A Cold Awakening: Ch 14/?
Summary:  Modern crime AU. Twenty years have gone by since Storybrooke was shaken to the core by a gruesome crime that went unsolved. Sheriff David Nolan and his partner, daughter Emma are forced to revisit the crime. At the same time, Killian Jones and his older brother Liam have been drawn back to the town they had longed to never see again, struggling to find their own answers. As taunting notes and clues show up they are taken on a journey to finally bring justice for the Jones family. And Emma Nolan finds herself caught in a situation more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.
Notes: Since today is my birthday I decided to update before the festivities later. I realize I didn't post last week so I made this one a bit longer than usual. I hope you all enjoy and thank you so much once again for the continued support and encouragement. It means everything. Feel free to like, comment, message, etc. I love hearing from people. 
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all rights to OUAT.
Rated: M
Word Count: ~10,000
Whole story can be read on AO3 or ffnet
Saturday morning Emma awoke slowly. She hadn’t realized how tired she had been until her head hit the pillow after Killian left and she immediately fell into a deep sleep. Killian. Emma felt her body begin to tingle at the thought of her night with him. The whole evening had been rather PG, the food, the game, the talking, had all just been tame. Then why was she still infatuated with it? The mere thought causing her blood to flow faster. The delicate way with which he touched her was no less jarring than a few nights ago when he had fucked her up against a wall.
When she sat up in her bed she looked to the foot of the mattress and saw Killian’s dog Princess resting peacefully. A warm feeling spread through Emma. It was a nice gesture, a kind one. She reached forward to the dog and began to pet her. The dog picked her head up, gave a sleepy look to Emma, and then rested on the mattress again.
“Thank you for keeping me company,” she whispered to the dog before she got up to dress for the day.
By the time Emma had showered, blow dried her hair, and gotten dressed, the dog was waiting patiently by the closed bedroom door.
Ultimately the dog was a nice companion for Emma. She followed at her heels most anywhere she went. After breakfast Emma took the dog for a walk and let her roam around a bit. She was active and liked to play. So after Princess was done running around she decided to walk over to Neal’s to let the dog meet Henry.
Neal’s two bedroom apartment was on the second story of a building on Main Street. He had lived there ever since they had broken up years ago. It was smaller, it was simple, but that was Neal. He didn’t keep much around. Just enough for Henry to have his own space and some room for when Emma came over.
Neal had looked a little confused when Emma had shown up at the door with a dog. But he warmed up quickly when Princess was friendly with both he and Henry. Especially Henry, who was now sprawled out on the knit rug in the living room, playing tug with her.
“Where did she come from? Are we keeping her?” Henry was a little more enthusiastic than Emma had anticipated. She would have gotten the kid a dog years ago had she known he would be so excited.
“I’m watching her for a friend,” Emma said neutrally. Henry didn’t seem to notice but as she looked up at the brown leather couch on the other side of the room, she read Neal’s face… and it didn’t seem like he was buying that excuse.
“How long is she staying at the house?” Henry tugged against the rope Princess had her grip on. She was far stronger than the kid but she was still letting him win.
“A few days at most. I thought she might be good to have around after everything that’s been going on…” Emma pondered her next words carefully but inevitably said, “if it works out, maybe we can adopt a dog of our own.”
“Really?” Her son’s face lit up. Okay now she had to get a dog there was no way she could resist how happy that thought made the kid.
“Yes really, and if you want to come back to my house to help me take care of her now I think that would be okay.” Emma had been skeptical about letting Henry come back. The other night had been bizarre and unsettling, but after last night and knowing the dog would be there she felt a bit better. Plus she had no plans to leave Henry’s side so as long as she was with him it would be okay. Emma would like to try to see someone come at her son, whoever did would be gutted on the floor before they knew what hit them.
“I’ll grab my things.” Henry raced out of the room and down the hall to his bedroom. Leaving only Emma, Neal, and Princess.
“So,” Neal was the one to break the silence, “you’re watching her for a friend?”
A knowing look on his face told Emma he had a feeling the dog had not come from such an innocent source. But it broke into a smile a few seconds later that reached his eyes.
“It’s complicated,” she replied. Trying not to give anything away with her face, but after all this time Neal still knew her pretty well.
“It always is with you, Em,” he joked and stood. She shook her head at him, aware that he wasn’t trying to be nasty or nosy. He was just pushing her buttons, as you are allowed to do with someone when you’ve known them most of your life.
Henry returned to the room with his duffel bag over his shoulder. Princess stood up and went to his side immediately. At least they were getting along. That was a good sign.
“Are you coming to my mom’s tomorrow for brunch?” Emma asked as she, Henry and the dog were halfway down the hall. Sunday was Mother’s Day. A tough one for Neal, for many reasons. And for as long as Emma could remember he spent it with she and her parents and Henry. It wasn’t traditional, or normal, she understood that. But it was what they had always done.
“Yeah, do you need me to bring anything?” Neal asked.
“No. You know my dad, he’s got it all covered.”
“Alright, see you then, Em. Bye, Henry.” He waved and was closing the door to his apartment when someone enter the hall. Robert Gold. Followed quickly by his wife Belle.
“Hi grandpa, Belle,” Henry greeted the two but was immediately pulled by Princess’s leash as she lunged for Mr. Gold, releasing a wildly unfriendly growl.
“Hey!” Emma grabbed the leash and tugged the dog to her side. Having never seen the dog act that way she was shocked. “Sorry about that.”
“Never was much of a dog person, myself,” Mr. Gold said calmly as he looked down at the dog who was now under control but still baring her teeth. Belle looked entirely uncomfortable and her back was pressed firmly up against the wall.
The dog stilled at Emma’s side but she noticed that the fur on the back of Princess’s neck was standing straight up. She tightened her grip on the leash as Mr. Gold walked past them to get to Neal’s front door.
“I take it my son’s around?” the man asked before pulling a ring of keys from his pocket to unlock the door.
“Yeah, he’s there.” Emma turned and began to walk away. “Sorry about the dog, she’s a friend’s.”
“I’m sure.” Was the last thing Robert Gold said to her before entering his son’s apartment with his wife. Princess wasn’t the only one who felt unsettled by the whole thing.
The rest of the day was nice. Emma had her son back in their house and everything felt, for the most part, right. She was able to get some work done, mostly administrative tasks she had been too busy to look at. She opened all of the windows to let fresh air in, the light lull of birds chirping mixed with rustling leaves.
Henry and Princess played in the yard for a while, wearing one another out until they came in to relax. Her son on the couch by the window and the dog panting on the cool hardwood floor. They had hit it off pretty easily despite the minor hiccup at had occurred outside of Neal’s apartment. How Princess had been so quick to react to Neal’s father, when she had seen the dog be nothing but lovely to anyone else. It didn’t sit well with Emma. And it certainly didn’t help when the dog went back to being pleasantly loyal as soon as they left the building.
Mother’s Day had arrived. She didn’t love the holiday altogether but she did enjoy spending time with her family. Her father had organized a large spread at the Nolan farmhouse. The kitchen island was filled with pastries and eggs and bacon and pancakes. Flutes of champagne and orange juice were handed out to everyone but Henry. Neal showed up a few minutes after Emma did with a case of donuts. Princess stood at Emma’s feet trying to catch dropped bits of food. Her mother and father had looked questioningly at Emma when she had rolled up with a dog that didn’t belong to her. But she fed them the ‘dogsitting for a friend’ line and they took the explanation… at least on the outside. On the inside Emma read her mother’s face like a book and she could tell Mary Margaret was about to burst at the seams holding in what she wanted to say.
It was quite the scene. The five of them (well six if you include the dog) gathered around the table, laughing and smiling over a brunch they had every year together. But coincidentally it was also Sunday. The day Killian was supposed to return from New York. She thought about whether or not he would want to see her like he had said. Her mind wandered to that place, the place she had last been with him. Her porch the night she had come back to her home, after the craziest, most bizarre week he had eased the burden of it. That’s not to say she wasn’t also thinking about certain other activities with him.
It wasn’t fair. He was like a male lead from some sappy romance novel. All height and dark hair, thick and gorgeous accent, just open enough that you see he’s complicated, just closed off enough that he’s still a mystery. Everything about the man intrigued her, but if she let herself she could feel more for him and that was terrifying. The thought of placing her vulnerable heart in the hands of someone she had only encountered a short time ago. Sure she had known who he was growing up but that wasn’t like knowing him. Not the way she felt herself gravitate toward him now. Each time she was with him a deep pull from inside her made her want to be near him. With him. Ravaged by him.
“Emma, honey, pass the salt.” Her father’s voice, the one he used when he had to repeat things brought her back to where she was. Mother’s Day brunch in her parents’ dining room. With her ex-boyfriend and son. Now was not the time to be focusing on her most recent affair with Killian Jones, whose dog sat at Emma’s feet eyeing her like she knew what Emma was thinking about.
“Yeah sure.” Emma hurriedly reached out and grabbed the salt to hand to her father. Her skin warming as she did. Maybe no one noticed.
Later they exchanged gifts. Henry had gotten Mary Margaret a lovely necklace with a blue bird trinket on the chain. It was cute, it was quirky and ultimately something his grandmother would be proud to wear. She put it on immediately, asking for David the ever doting husband to help her secure the clasp.
“It’s lovely, Henry, thank you.” Mary Margaret beamed.
“And this one’s for you, mom,” Henry smiled as he handed Emma a small black velvet box and a card.
“Thanks, kid. You really didn’t have to get me anything.” She ruffled his hair and took the box, opening the card to find a heartfelt message from her son that made her tear up. And then she opened the black box. Inside was a beautiful but simple ring. Of faded metal and central pearl. The same one she had seen Henry holding in his grandfather’s shop. The one that had caught her eye. She smiled, she wore sparse amounts of jewelry but it was beautiful in it’s simplicity.
“It’s so pretty, Henry. Thank you.” As she slipped it on her finger she wrapped her arm around Henry and kissed his head, though now that he was older he didn’t find this to be as cute as she did.
“I know you don’t wear jewelry, but I thought it was small enough that it wouldn’t get in your way.”
He knew her so well.
Later that day she, Neal and Henry left with boxes of leftovers as they always did when coming from her parents’ house. Henry walked ahead of them with the dog by his side, not even using the leash, she just stayed with him. Emma’s heart warmed. The kid needed a dog.
“This kind of stuff could get weird if either of us ever decides to date anyone else…” Neal joked as they walked a few feet behind Henry and the dog.
“God forbid either of us ever get married. Then what do we do?”
“You guys are like family to me… I would probably still come.” He looked at Emma, his brown eyes kind with sincerity. If nothing else Neal was a wonderful father to Henry and a pretty decent friend to her as well. It was just a shame they were a toxic couple.
“You know you’re always welcome here. You’re like the son my dad never had.”
“And your mom’s been more of a mother to me than my own ever was.”
“Has she ever reached out to you?” They slowed a bit further, hanging back to not burden Henry with the topic of his absent grandmother. It wasn’t something usually brought up, but it was hard not to on Mother’s Day. A holiday solely dedicated to the woman who had abandoned him.
“Once or twice.” He kicked a rock with his foot as they made their way down the gravel driveway. “But it never amounts to much in my mind. She never did come back.”
“Maybe now that you’re older….” Emma didn’t know exactly what she was suggesting until she did. “You could be the one to try.”
“I have little to no interest in it.”
He was lying. She could tell. But she wouldn’t push him on the subject. It was entirely his decision as to whether or not he wanted to reconnect with Milah.
“Well if you ever want help finding her… I’m here.”
“Thanks Em.” He put his arm around her, they walked side by side, friend by friend behind their son… and Killian Jones’ dog. “Luckily, my own son has a far better mom.”
“Yeah, well. We have a good kid. He makes it easy.”
Later that night, Emma waited. She hadn’t waited on a man literally ever but she felt really unsure about what she should do. Killian had said he would see her when he came back, but in all fairness she didn’t know what time that was. Or if it was still happening. She hadn’t heard from him since he left her house on Friday (technically Saturday morning) and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit… on edge.
Henry went up to his room around 10:30 for bed, taking the dog with him. The two had taken to each other quickly. Emma wondered if Killian would want his dog back today now that he was back in town.
To calm her nerves she went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine. She had settled into shorts and a white tank top as the weather had been warm today. Her hair, which was a bit wild from the heat, was knotted into a braid that fell down her back. Emma leaned back against the farmhouse sink, sipping her wine when there was a knock on the door. She stilled, knowing that it was most likely him. He hadn’t warned her he was coming but she had a gut feeling.
Walking toward the front door she realized she had been right. On her porch stood Killian Jones, still dressed in a full suit, this time with a tie, looking like a GQ model in his effortless handsomeness.
“Hi,” she said quietly when she opened the door. Emma wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet in any scenario but for whatever reason, there was a flutter in her stomach when she saw that he was smiling. At her.
“Hi, love. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
“No, not at all.” The flush on her neck and cheeks was free for him to look at, being that her tank top did very little to hide her skin. “Did you come straight from the airport?”
The fact that he hadn’t even changed from his suit made her wonder, was he just as interested as she was?
“Aye, is that alright?” The way he asked her was measured, clearly he was still trying to decipher whether or not he was stepping over any boundaries she had set by being here.
“Yeah.” She smiled, and he did the same. His angular face giving way to a genuine grin.
“Might I come in then?” He wasn’t mocking her when he said it, she could tell, the inquiry was real.
She didn’t say anything back, simply stepping out of the way and opening the door further to allow him inside. Quietly she closed the door behind him, hoping he got the hint that she didn’t want him to leave just yet. He looked good in the entryway. His suit tailored to his thin but muscular frame. His hair tamed for once, slicked back into a mature style. His beard was trimmed but still evident and Emma wondered what the hairs on his chin would feel like between her thighs.
Killian turned to look at her. It was an odd situation they had put themselves in. They weren’t dating, it wasn’t like she could just leap into his arms cooing ‘welcome back, baby’ because he wasn’t hers. Yet they had been so intimate… so heated. The next move was not clear to either of them.
“Did you manage to keep my dog alive this weekend, Emma?” he joked, looking around and a bit concerned when Princess hadn’t run down to greet him.
“She’s fine… she’s upstairs sleeping with Henry in his room.”
“Your boy is here?” His eyebrow shot up, he obviously hadn’t expected her son to be around. Probably because she had kept that part of her life so private from him. And most people who weren’t her close friends. “Shall I go then?”
“What?” Emma was surprised, the idea of him leaving already, when she had… desires that needed taken care of, was not something she was willing to give in to.
“Emma, I’m not here to intrude… if you want to postpone this until a time when the lad isn’t upstairs I-”
She stepped closer to him. The hint of cologne on his clothes an intoxicatingly appealing smell. But there was something else, a scent entirely his own, that she had come to enjoy during their times together. Her hands drew up the lapels of his suit jacket. She didn’t miss the twitch in his demeanor as she did. The quirk of his lip.
“Do you want to leave, Killian?” She asked, moving her hands across him, doing her best to elicit the kind of reaction she knew she could. For once it wouldn’t be him who used smooth dialogue to effect her. No, this time it was her turn.
“No, I don’t want to leave.” His breath was caught as she touched him, though it was through his clothes he felt the natural pull toward her. The desperation he felt to be skin to skin.
“Then don’t.” She leaned in, taking the reigns, kissing him slowly but passionately. Melting their mouths together until she felt her core so built up she needed him immediately. “So why don’t you take me upstairs, and I’ll try my best not to scream your name.”
“Mmmm..” he groaned into her mouth, their lips not touching but close enough. “Lead the way, darling.”
Her hands fell from his jacket to his tie, pulling him toward the stairs up to where her bedroom was. Luckily her bedroom didn’t share a wall with Henry’s. She knew as much as she would probably try to keep quiet, there was only so much she could do.
Still leading him by his tie, she took him into her bedroom. Coincidentally she had changed her sheets that day and made sure her room was clean (coincidentally my ass, she thought to herself). The room was bathed in moonlight, the curtains of the windows entirely open on the warm spring night. She made it to the edge of her bed before she felt Killian behind her. Her back pressed to his front, his fully erect front.
“Lovely place you have here, darling.” His lips fell to her neck, a trail of kisses running over her exposed shoulder. The hair on his chin tickling her in the most erotic way. Her skin alight with desire, her center aching for him. This was not like the last time, there was no brick wall, no sense of urgency, no public. It was just he and her, in her room. The most intimate place to have him. And all she could think about was how badly she wanted him.
His lips went from her shoulder to her neck, kneading into her skin, his tongue painting her with arousal. She spun and wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting his lips with hers. Their mouths moving together in a hungry motion for each other. His hands went from her waist to her ass, giving a playful squeeze that made her gasp. Almost a little too loud. His touch traveled lower, with a look of victory on his face, grasping her thighs aggressively and pulling her up around him. Her legs wrapping around his waist so he was the only thing keeping her off the ground.
They continued to kiss fervidly, Emma’s insides feeling like they may explode if she kept all of these clothes on. His strong arms had her, so she released his neck grasping as the tie around his throat. In two quick moves it was off, giving her full access to the buttons of his white dress shirt. She began undoing them, hoping to reach his glorious chest, but ended up ripping the entire shirt off and half of the buttons flew in every direction. Hitting the hardwood floor one by one.
“Eager, are we?” he mumbled between kisses. In that confident voice she found so appealing.
“I just got tired of waiting,” she responded. Wrapping her legs even tighter around him, grinding her center against his to ease the ache she was feeling. The desire she felt for the friction between them. “I like… rough,” she said the word as if she were almost ashamed of it.
He ceased contact between his lips and hers to look directly into her eyes. He wondered if she had ever had a lover who had made her feel embarrassed for enjoying the rougher side of things. But her face fell a bit, she wondered if maybe she had taken things too far by saying that.
“Do you trust me, Emma?” His deep blue eyes, hooded and sincere met hers. Her legs still holding her up, his hands still under her thighs.
“Yes,” she whispered. And the truth of it was she did. She knew he could bring her to the fathomless depths of her pleasures. He already had before. And she knew he would do it again.
He didn’t say anything but his eyes didn’t leave hers as he set her down. Feet planted on the floor, his hands went to the hem of her tank top, tugging it slowly over her head. She was bare beneath it, not bothering to wear a bra… or underwear but he would find that soon enough as he moved to pull her shorts off of her. His fingers lightly brushed her skin and she felt she would combust.
“So beautiful,” he groaned, dragging a finger up her bare now bare body, slow enough that she felt every bit of it, fast enough that her blood raced along with it. “Rough, you say?”
“Yes.” She could barely get the word out. Every inch of her wishing it was up against him. Her folds dripping with desire for the man before her. He looked like a God. His white shirt open and flowing, revealing his chest, fully to her, for the first time. The dark hair on his chest trailed all the way down to the waistband of his dress pants. She was certain he caught her staring but instead he only said one thing.
“As you wish.” His tongue roved over his teeth beneath his lips. A dangerous look in his eye that both frightened and excited her. He slid the shirt off of his shoulders and it fell in a heap onto the floor. Emma’s eyes followed his hands as they began to undo his pants. Every motion deliberate as he removed his belt, the pants and underwear on the ground on top of his shirt. He was now bare in front of her. His toned body. His broad shoulders. His completely hardened cock that was… massive. She gulped looking at it. Wondering how in the world that had once been inside of her.
“Something wrong, love?”
“You’re huge.” She didn’t want to say it, his ego did not need any more inflation. But it was a fact. He was packin.
“It’s been in you before, Emma. No need to be nervous.” He stepped closer to her. Electricity between them. His face was mischievous like at any moment he would pounce. The anticipation was killing her. His fingers swiped across her aching center. Still wet with want for him, as it always was. He really did not have to do much to work her up. And he knew it. “Always so wet for me, Emma. It’s flattering really.”
She stood still as a sculpture, knowing he was going to do something, but not knowing what it was irked her. He was calculating. The tingle in her chest moving down to the place his fingers now were. Working her in and out, building the desire she felt for him.
“You’re so ready for me, love, I could fuck you right now,” he whispered in her ear. She felt her knees begin to weaken at the thought. She just needed release.
“So do it.” She ground against his fingers hoping to relieve the heat pent up in her body. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more.
He let out a laugh. A dark gaze on her. It was overwhelming. The way his eyes traced her body before slowly backing her against the post of the bed. She only realized she had hit the thick mahogany of the four post bed when the rolls of the wood dug into her back.
“Ooomf,” she let out a sound as soon as she hit the post. He stood inches from her. All dark hair and passion. She reached her arms up to place her hands on his bare chest. The thick black hair feeling electric on her fingers.
“Ah ah ah.” He grabbed her wrists and removed them from his chest. Emma bit back a moan at the loss of contact. “Allow me.” He took her wrists, delicately kissing each one, before wrapping them behind her back around the bedpost and securing them with a silk tie.
“What the hell?” Her hands were literally tied behind her back. She struggled to free herself but she couldn’t. “Killian… what are you doing?”
“A taste of your own medicine, my darling.” His voice lingered in her ear as he kissed just beneath it. Following the line of her neck, working his mouth downward. Slowly, excruciatingly. She was completely at his mercy, entirely vulnerable. Naked. Tied. Wanton.
“Tease.” She groaned as his kisses made their way down her body. Slowing at her breasts, his mouth latching onto one while his hand worked the other. The pink buds fully erect in seconds, her chest heaving with want as his filthy mouth nipped, sucked, licked her skin as it buzzed.
“Trust me.” Was all he murmured as his mouth left her nipples, now fully hard and wishing he would go back. But as his mouth got closer and closer to her core, she moaned. “Your body seems to.”
He wasn’t wrong. Every limb of hers curled in toward him for some form of contact. She couldn’t deny the effect he had on her. His mouth finally reached the top of her thighs. The apex now dripping in anticipation. His lips met her folds, plundering without much warning, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.
Emma’s leg rested on top of his shoulder. His mouth invading her most intimate place with such confidence and such force she could barely hold herself up. His beard scratched at her skin. Her other leg found its way to his shoulder so he was the only thing holding her up.
“You taste delicious, love.”
“Killian… please…” she begged as he continued to work her, but not letting her fall. Teetering her on the edge as his tongue explored her. Sucking on the juices pouring from within. “Killian…. My god…”
It was enough to fuel him. Her begging. His hunger. Killian rose from his knees to stand in front of her, fully hard. His pink lips puffy from his kisses, his hair disheveled. She thought he would untie her, take her to the bed to fuck her. But instead he readied himself and grabbed her legs. They wrapped around his waist instinctively. Her lack of release still built inside of her. She thought she may come just from their centers meeting. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to grab onto his hair, to touch every part of him she could but her arms were still tied.
He aligned himself with her dripping folds, the tip teasing the entrance. He groaned though it was the barest of touches. His eyes fluttered closed, he seemed to be composing himself. His handsome face twisted into a devilish smirk as his baby blues revealed themselves again. Without warning he plunged deep within her. Emma cried out not thinking. The sensation at first shocking but then immense. He bottomed out immediately.
“Though it would have been a pleasure to make you come with only my mouth, I couldn’t spend another second without being inside of you… so bloody tight.” As he spoke he took a second to let her adjust to his size. Emma eyed him. He had the oddest ways of displaying how he was a gentleman.
“Just fuck me, Killian. I can’t…” all of her strength was currently dedicated to holding her legs around him. Her back pressed against the post. Her body ravaged with passion. Her breath heavy, chest heaving, hair falling from its braid. She must have looked a mess. His hands found her ass, caressing the skin there.
“You’re being awfully loud, darling. Perhaps a punishment is in order.”
Before she could respond, her wit not as quick when she was on the cusp of climaxing, he removed one hand from her ass and brought it back down with a smack. Her head fell back against the post. The pain and the pleasure so overstimulating. His lips found her neck, licking over her. His hand smacked her again causing waves of sensation through her.
He pulled out and slammed back in again, her body shuddering as he found his rhythm. Fucking. Grinding at her center. No holds barred. Rough. Sex. The friction on her clit causing her eyes to roll back into her head. It was so much. It was too much. But she wanted more.
“You have a fantastic ass,” he whispered as he continued the aggressive roll of his hips. He bit her earlobe, and her neck. Most certainly not being gentle. Her ass would be red for days, the bruises on her hips from his hands would appear.
His hand slipped from her ass to her core, teasing her. Emma’s hands pulled at the ties, those would bruise too. But she didn’t care. He ripped her hair entirely from its braid, setting it free around them. Running his fingers through it. Only to pull it into his hand and wrap it around his own wrist.
“I like something to hold onto,” he thrusted, so close, “My beautiful, Emma.”
His stubble brushed her chin as his lips met hers in one final surge of passion, a bruising kiss, as she reached her peak. The pleasure so intense and so overwhelming she could hardly breathe as she ground into him while he released himself into her. They fucked each other through, not stopping until the throbbing ceased.
Emma felt like she might faint. Never having experienced passion like that, her body so overcome by it. Her legs fell from his waist too weak to hold the position any longer. Blood coursed through her veins, heart racing, his release dripping down her leg.
“Emma, love, are you alright?” His face had gone from devilish to concerned in a matter of seconds as he realized she couldn’t stand on her own. He untied her, her wrists stiff and sore from being wrapped for so long. And he caught her as she stumbled.
“Sorry, I’m just not…” She couldn’t even remember if she had ever had sex that good. “It’s never been that…”
“I’ll take your speechlessness as a compliment.” He was still holding her. Such a chaste gesture after such raucous behavior. She looked up at him and smiled a bit, a little embarrassed at just how good he had been. “Here, lay down.”
He scooped her up in his strong arms and laid her down on the sheets. Leaving the room only to return with a wet washcloth to clean her off.
“Well aren’t you a gentleman,” she joked as he carefully wiped away the evidence of their encounter.
“I’m always a gentleman.” He smirked.
“Do all gentleman tie women up in their own homes?”
He leaned down close to her face. His features dark and stormy. God was he attractive. “Only when the woman begs for it.” He winked before rising back up and picking up his previously shed clothes. Killian began to redress himself and as Emma watched him she considered asking him to stay. After all, if she could get another round like that out of him he could stay for a whole week.
He caught her staring at him… again. “I’m just following the rules,” he said straightening the collar of his shirt. Though he couldn’t button it, and he shot her a sardonic look when he remembered all of the buttons were dispersed on her bedroom floor. Once sufficiently clothed he leaned back down to her, without hesitation, and kissing her. The hunger beneath his lips evident as he begged entrance to her mouth. She moaned, grabbing his hair, as she had wanted to do the whole time.
When he pulled away they were both out of breath. The sexual tension still there though they had just thoroughly fucked one another.
“Remember, darling. No sleepovers.”
Her mind cursed her own rule she had given him, wishing he would stay for another round. But her stubbornness and sheer exhaustion took over. She remained silent as she watched him leave her bedroom, not even staying awake long enough to hear him start his car to drive off.
It was like that for two weeks. He never asked to stay over, though they were together almost every night. The floodgates had opened. Each night with him was different, unique in and of itself. Her sexual experiences with him unlike any she had ever had. It had been so long since she had had good sex, it wasn’t something she was willing to back down on. And he didn’t seem to want to back down either. Spending hours lazily kissing one another in bed, alternating between positions, taking turns pleasuring one another until they could no longer breathe.
During the day she would work. Fully focused on the task at hand. Doing her best not to reveal to anyone else she worked with what was going on between she and Killian. Emma researched as much as possible. The clues at a standstill since the one at her door. Sometimes after they finished having sex, the two would lay together for a while just to talk. He often spoke of his early years, his childhood far different from hers. Killian always expressed wanting to help find the murderer of his parents but some things were far too personal for him to dive into. It provided a closeness between the two. A foundation for conversation that would allow them to get to know each other better.
But this was not always the case. There was one night in particular where she went over to his hotel for their nightly encounter, and not one single word was spoken between the two before fucking.
It was late, as it usually was with them, they hadn’t seen each other the night before because Emma had fallen asleep. The combination of long nights with Killian and long days spent on the investigation taxing her body relentlessly. But she wanted to see him again, the thought of missing another night in his bed upsetting her more than she would ever admit. So nonchalantly she had told him she would come over that night.
The man at the front desk of Killian’s hotel had come to recognize her by now, giving her a subtle wave as she made her way to the elevator that would take her to his penthouse. Anticipation bubbling within her as the pleasure that was to come.
The elevator dinged and let her out in the foyer of his hotel suite. A large empty space, dimly lit by the overhead chandelier. She wasn’t two steps inside before seeing Killian descend the spiral staircase, looking more like a royal than a man. His gaze pointed, piercing. Heat boiled within her veins, her stomach, her aching core. With purpose he crossed the floor to where she was, not wasting another second before mounting her on the circular wooden table central to the room. The vase of flowers atop crashing to the floor as he pushed her over the surface. Thrusting into her with all of the force her body could take. His lips all over her, trailing her skin, fucking her wordlessly. His hands rough on her hips, his cock pumping into her. She could barely catch her breath.
“Already so wet for me, Emma. You’re just as filthy as I am.” He breathed into her ear, continuing to fuck her through to her peak. “Say my name, love.”
“Killian…” she moaned. Weak to any command he gave her at this point.
“There’s a good girl.” The more she cried out for him the harder he thrust, until finally the table beneath them gave way. Collapsing from the passionate tryst it had been subjected to. Killian caught her, not missing a beat, before continuing his motions on the marble floor.
Emma boldly flipped over so he was on his back and she was on top. Still fully sheathed inside of her, Emma began to grind her hips, taking control.
“That’s it, darling. Ride me.” His eyes shut, allowing her to fuck him, his hands on her hips steadying her, keeping pace with her. Emma could barely contain herself anymore.
“Killian… I’m gonna…” was all she was able to croak out as she reached her peak. The wave of passion crashing through her body. She shook as she climaxed, and felt him do the same. Her pussy milking his cock of its seed as he too fell. Kissing her breasts, neck, arms, mouth, anything he could reach.
She stared at him breathlessly in the wake of their passions, wondering if she would ever in her life find another man who could even compete.
“Emma, love, what have you done to me?” he asked in the afterglow. Expressing once again how all consuming their encounters had been.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
And now, two weeks from that night in her bed when he had tied her up, they lay together amongst ruffled sheets. It was a Friday night. Henry was with Neal for the weekend fishing. She had the house to herself. Well that was, until Killian came over. Tonight had been different. Emma wasn’t sure if it was because they had the house to themselves or because it was a Friday and neither of them had to be at work in the morning, but the entire encounter had been so… slow. And not in a bad way. Their usual biting had become kissing, scratching had turned to caressing.
From the time he walked in the door there wasn’t a striking urgency to fuck each other into oblivion. They took their time. Eventually making their way to the bedroom, where they fucked long, slow, excruciating. If she didn’t know any better she would call it something else entirely. Because it felt less like fucking and more like… well like something else.
“You know, I haven’t had anyone in this bed… ever.” Emma didn’t meet his eyes as she said it. She was curled up against his chest. His arm hanging loosely on her hip. His other bent to hold his head up. Post sex. His seed dried between her thighs, sweat coating both of their bodies. She played with the hair on his chest, probably one of her favorite features on him. Or at the very least it was in the top 5. “I don’t know why I said that… it probably doesn’t reflect too kindly on the kind fuck I am.”
His hand went from her hip, reaching up to cup her cheek. The motion so gentle, as if she were made of porcelain. “Darling, you are a phenomenal lover.”
Lover. Was that was this was now? The title not the worst thing in the world. But the use of the word ‘love’ so foreign to her.
“And it’s an honor to be in your bed.” His gaze finally connected with hers. She tried to find the slightest bit of deception. Of mockery. But came up with nothing. He was being honest. He always was with her. Killian bent his head down and kissed her forehead. So lightly. But she felt it all over.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asked, walking outside of her comfort zone to learn a bit more about him.
“Excuse me?” He was confused, such a light and simple question not usually in their vocabulary, the circumstances of their time together heavier than usual small talk.
“Your favorite color, I want to know what it is.”
He smiled a bit, almost like no one ever took the time to know such a small thing. Meeting her eyes directly he whispered, “Green… and yours?”
“Blue,” she said without hesitation.
“People don’t really ask me questions like that,” he offered honestly. Just as she had suspected. “I think I may come off as a bit… intimidating.”
“You? Never!” she joked. Remembering the first day she had seen him in the office. His suit. His smoldering frown. He came off hard. But she assumed that was from years of closing himself off to survive the aftermath of losing his parents. “It’s okay. No one ever asks me that kind of stuff either.”
“Aren’t we quite the pair?” the air of his voice when he referred to them as a pair was so light but quickly his face darkened. “Emma I didn’t mean to insinuate that…”
“Why don’t you stay tonight?” she blurted out.
“Emma...” He seemed a bit hesitant. Maybe she had read him wrong. Maybe he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with her. But then his face softened and a smile that reached his eyes overtook his features. “I would love to.”
He grabbed her face with both hands and pulled her into a kiss that turned heated in mere seconds. Tangled together in the sweat stained sheets, they lazily kissed for what felt like hours before he took her again. Bringing her to completion before they fell into a deep and comfortable sleep. Wrapped in his arms, her back to his front, she felt safe.
Saturday morning Emma awoke expecting panic. She expected the usual anxiety she felt when she slept with a man. But this wasn’t just any man, this was Killian. He was still fast asleep in the early morning light. Handsome as ever. His face looked young, relaxed. His dark brows, hair and beard unruly with sleep. Her hand absentmindedly went to his cheek.
“See something you like, love?” his voice was scratchy with morning, accent thick. Her breath caught at the sound. How was it possible his voice was even more gorgeous in the morning?
“Good morning, Killian.” She smiled. His eyes slowly opening to look up at her. They were both still naked from the night before. But she didn’t feel exposed.
“Good morning, darling.” He sat up. His hair stuck out in all directions and Emma had to fight back a laugh at how disheveled he was.
“Last night was…” she didn’t know what to say. Because it was everything. But she didn’t want to say that, at the risk of sounding like a maniac. “Amazing.”
“Aye, it was. My life has been far more…. Pleasurable with you in it.” He was holding back too she could tell. Two incredibly stubborn humans. She didn’t have time to say anything more because her phone was ringing. Looking at the screen it was Henry. She had been adamant about him checking in during his weekend away. She hadn’t spent much time apart from Henry since the day he returned after the mysterious note distributor had paid a visit to their home.
“I have to take this, it’s Henry,” she said to Killian.
“Of course, love, mind if I put on a pot of coffee?”
“Sure, filters are above the fridge, coffee’s in the cupboard next to it,” she finished explaining to Killian just as she swiped to answer the phone.
“Hey kid, how’s fishing?” Killian left the room, slipping on a pair of briefs before heading downstairs to make the coffee. Henry launched into a detailed explanation of the entire 18 hours since he and Neal had arrived at the camp. Everything from the weather to the cabin to the morning they had spent at the lake. On and on. It was amusing to Emma, but eventually after 3 minutes of straight talking Henry told his mother he had to go. That they were going back out on the boat.
“Alright, kid call me later okay?” She managed to get out before they hung up. As she set her phone back on her nightstand she reached for Killian’s button up that was strewn on the floor. It smelled like him. Slipping it on it felt nice. Her calmness was short lived when she heard a voice calling to her from downstairs. Her whole body went still. The hair on her arms standing up.
“Emma. Marie. Nolan.” Her father.
Emma moved quickly. Once the shock to her system had settled in she needed to get downstairs as quickly as possible. Because if what she thought was happening in her kitchen was actually happening, then Killian Jones was standing next to her coffee maker on a Saturday morning in nothing but his briefs. And her father was there too.
Which was exactly what she walked into when she came down the stairs and rounded the corner to the kitchen. Except it was worse. Much worse. Because not only was David Nolan standing there, grocery bag in hand. To his right was her mother, whose face was visibly red. And last but not least Killian who was, in fact, right next to the coffee pot. Shirtless. Pantsless. Looking like a deer in the headlights.
“What are you guys doing here?” Was the first thing out of Emma’s mouth when she had her bearings.
“We thought it would be nice to come over and cook you breakfast…” her mother spoke. David on the other hand was staring at the half naked man in Emma’s kitchen. He looked so mad she was certain fumes were coming from the top of his head.
“You didn’t think to call first?” Emma responded. She glanced at her parents, then to Killian, who had never looked so shy in the entire time she had known him.
“We, uh, we didn’t think we had to.” Mary Margaret, clearly not knowing what to do with herself, began fiddling with the bag in her hands.
“Dad…?” David finally looked at her. His face a wash of anger, disappointment, protectiveness. In all fairness, her father had only ever seen her with one guy. He was in no way used to the notion of her having a man in her life. If that’s what Killian could be called. “Why don’t you guys start breakfast, and give us a minute?”
It probably didn’t help that Emma was obviously wearing a shirt that did not belong to her and had a hickey the size of a chicken nugget on her neck but her father didn’t say another word. He just set the bags on the counter, getting ready to cook breakfast. Mary Margaret looked over at Emma, her mother not nearly as angry as her father. She watched her mom grab her dad’s wrist, and whisper something that apparently eased his temper a bit. Because the redness faded from his face and he came off a bit lighter than when she had first entered the room.
Emma motioned for Killian to walk over to her. Mr. Suave had completely lost any bravado in this compromising position. He walked over to her, a sense of urgency in his step as they tucked themselves in the hallway to have a private moment.
“Emma, I tried to.. They came in without knocking I couldn’t hide fast enough,” his speech was frantic. It was endearing. How nervous he had gotten at the sight of her parents. Killian had met David plenty of times before, but not in this kind of scenario.
“Shh, it’s okay. It isn’t your fault. I’m sorry, I really didn’t know they were coming here. You can leave if you want.”
But just as she gave him the way out she heard her mother call from the other room. “Killian, honey would you like to stay for breakfast?”
Emma’s head fell back and hit the wall. The torture being inflicted on her right now was most certainly karmic repayment for letting him sleepover.
“Perhaps, we should go get dressed, love.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt that she was wearing. When she put it on she assumed it would be like a fun, sexy, normal thing to do the morning after sex. But again. The universe had slapped her in the face for it. “Though I must say it looks better on you.” He winked at her. The embarrassment leaving him the more time they were out of view.
“You can’t do this right now…” she put her hands on his bare chest. Trying to push him away but found herself drawn to how warm he was. Fuck.
“Do what?” He inched closer. Eyebrow up, tongue exposed.
“Flirt with me… they’re right there.”
“I hate to break it to you, love, but I think our cover is blown,” he whispered. How he had gone from shy, blushing, Killian in the kitchen to this insatiable flirt she would never understand.
“Just… let’s go get dressed. We don’t need to make this any worse than it is.”
She pulled away from him, wishing she didn’t have to. While against the wall she wondered whether or not he would have fucked her right there if her parents hadn’t crashed their morning. Something she would never know, she thought, as she walked up the creaky wooden stairs to her bedroom. She and Killian did their best to appear presentable for breakfast but it was truly a lost effort. Mary Margaret and David knew what was going on. Even as they tried to ignore the elephant in the room, sitting around the kitchen table eating breakfast.
Emma’s mother, at the very least, spoke to Killian. Clearly trying to make him feel more comfortable. Mary Margaret far more open to this situation. While David just frowned, eating his pancakes bit by bit. Emma’s spine felt like it had a rod through it, she was so stiff from the tension between she and her father. For the first time in a very long time he was not pleased with her.
After breakfast, Killian dismissed himself. Telling everyone he needed to get back to his hotel and to his dog. Mary Margaret and David both looked at each other, knowingly. Probably putting the pieces together about the dog that had been at their house on Mother’s Day two weeks ago. If Emma melted into a puddle right then and there she truly would not have minded. It would save her the task of having to talk to her parents after Killian left.
She walked him to the door. Feeling far too embarrassed about the way their first overnight visit had gone to even hug him. Luckily he took his own liberties with her.
“I’ll call you later, darling.” His hands went around her waist. Pulling her to him. She couldn’t help but feel the charge that surged through her.
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“Ah but I want to. That’s the thing.” His smirk challenged her. As much as she tried to fence herself off she knew Killian Jones didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do.
“This morning was kind of… weird.”
“Interestingly enough I don’t blame you for that.” He reached up, twirling a piece of blonde hair between his fingers. “Besides, I think your mother is starting to like me.”
Him making light of the situation made her feel the slightest bit better. But she still wasn’t thrilled. As much as she wanted to use this morning as an excuse to never have him stay over again, she knew 99% of their night had been… incredible.
“Emma, I don’t want to upset you… or make you uncomfortable. If last night was too much we can just go back to-”
She cut him off with her lips. Kissing him as she had wanted to since she woke up. His soft mouth moving with hers. Emma hoped this gave him enough of an answer without having to say any more.
“Alright then.” When he pulled away his hand found his lips, certain he felt the buzz she did when their skin met. “I’ll call you later.”
“Thank you for staying, Killian!” Emma’s mother’s voice came from the kitchen. There was no way the woman hadn’t been eavesdropping the entire time. Emma rolled her eyes.
“Thank you for having me!” He yelled back. An amused look on his face as he slipped out the door.
When Emma walked back into the bright kitchen her father was at the sink washing dishes and her mother was sitting at the table setting down her mug of coffee. A massive grin on Mary Margaret’s face.
“There’s an envelope on the table for you. It arrived this morning,” David said, finishing up the last of the dishes. The air seemed to lighten between the two of them. Whatever was inside the envelope a peace offering from her dad.
Emma’s eyes scanned the package, relief washing over her when she realized it was a real piece of mail. From a real person. Not some manipulative coward who dropped clues on her porch instead of just coming forward. No, this was exactly what she had been waiting for. The drawings Archibald Hopper had promised her. The ones Moira Jones did during her sessions with him.
“It’s the sketches,” Emma said aloud to no one in particular. Tearing through the seal to reveal a stack of art.
“I’ve looked through them but nothing stuck out to me. I figured you have a better eye than me.” Her dad looked apologetic as he said it. Neither one of them could stay mad at the other for long. They were too similar. “Take some time, look through them, see what you think.” David put his arm around her, kissing her forehead before leaving the house with his wife in toe.
To say Emma was relieved was an understatement. The morning had been… trying. And now she had some time alone to focus. She could get some work done, look at Moira’s sketches. Take in all there was to analyze. Enjoy the quiet. She almost wished Killian was still here so he could see the talent his mother had. Chances are he had never seen any of her work.
Emma posted up at her table, flipping through the stack of drawings. The morning and afternoon went by slowly as she picked through the art. Amongst them were sketches of their home. The flowers that lined the driveway in full bloom, an antique car parked in front. A picturesque scene. Two little boys running through the landscaping, an image of innocence Emma could only assume was a depiction of Liam and Killian.
Another showed a tea kettle, atop an antique stove, spouting steam. A simple mug shadowed in the corner. The attention to detail in each picture astounding for someone who managed to do these during weekly therapy sessions.
The last drawing in the stack showed hands. Four to be exact. Two dainty, soft hands resting over a belly. A simple wedding band on the left hand. Slightly covered by the rough hands of a more masculine entity. It looked like a close up of a maternity photo shoot, the shading of the belly appearing rotund. But there was something on the other hand. The right hand of the woman had a ring in the mirror position of the wedding band. She had to look once, twice, three times to ensure what she saw was correct. Holding her own hand in comparison, the ring in the drawing was the exact same ring she wore on her own finger.
The simple, unique pearl ring Henry had given her as a gift for Mother’s Day. The ring that had come from Neal’s father’s shop…
Emma gulped. It added up. The odd behavior, the constant arrogance associated with the investigation, the reclusivity from society. Emma did the math in her head, the ages were certainly plausible. Moira Jones would have been almost identical in age to Mr. Gold had she still been alive. She thought back to the way in which Killian’s dog had reacted so negatively to the sight of only one man. The same exact ring that had been in his shop, was the one in a drawing from over twenty years ago. And she had her suspect. Robert Gold.
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Riverdale 1x09 thoughts
Under the cut bcos its super long, read at your own risk
Jughead’s opening narrative
Blossoms have controlled the maple syrup business since the town’s founding? No mention of the Cooper’s/ Hal grandpa
AAAnnnd we don’t hear Jason speak yet again.  
The sickly, sweet smell was inescapable - allusion to the Blossom’s influence on the town, how all-pervading their power is? And how they leave their mark on everything? That last comment by Cheryl after she kisses Archie - about her lipstick being Maple Red and the sweet taste being because of it? Was it really necessary? Is it some sort of clue? I love how Maple Syrup stands for so many things in this town - For the Blossoms, its obviously power and legacy; and its also the symbol for slut shaming so does that link slut shaming to the Blossom clan somehow? Its sweet, its sticky, its red - hmmm, blood is sticky and red too....
Bughead scene in Betty’s room  
THEY’RE SITTING ON HER BED LITERALLY ON TOP OF EACH OTHER (*DYING WHALE NOISE*)
SHE IMMEDIATELY AIRS HER CONCERNS TO HIM
HE’S HER ROCK, HE’S THERE TO LISTEN AND HELP HER AND ASSUAGE HER FEARS AND BUILD HER UP AND SHE KNOWS THIS!
WE’LL FIGURE IT OUT - BETTY IS NOT ALONE ANYMORE, JUGHEAD IS WITH HER IN ALL OF THIS SHIT SHE’S GOING THROUGH
COME HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (BRB - BUSY DYING)
HER SMILE AND LEANING TOWARDS HIM, HIS HAND SLIDING DOWN HER THIGH, HER HAND GOING UP TO HIS FACE, HIS SMILE, THE KISS
ALICE COOPER, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!
THE STARTLED JUMP, HURRIEDLY BREAKING APART, THE LOOK OF IRRITATION ON BETTY’S FACE!
Alice shows no surprise at Juggie being there, means she knows, or she let him in. So Bughead already has the stamp of approval from Mama Cooper! It could be that Alice saw how their extreme disapproval had affected Polly (and Jason) and hence she decided not to do the same to Betty? Or maybe she genuinely likes Juggie like Madchen has said? 
Her deciding to go after the Blossoms reeks of anger about her own failure to get her daughter back. She talks about the Cooper-Blossoms feud, but its really something else, something we will know only in ep 12. What the Blossoms really did to the Coopers. Why would Alice hate the Blossoms so much for what they did to her husband’s grandpa? This is personal (Hal says as much)
“According to your milquetoast father”- what’s with Alice calling Hal all these coward names? What did Hal do or didn’t do that was so cowardly? She brought this up earlier - when Betty questioned Hal if he had killed Jason - she said he wouldn’t have the stomach for it. 
Seriously did Alice hate Jason so much just because he knocked up her daughter? She was hoping he’d rot in hell when they found his body, she was positively gloating when the coroner told her about scavenger activity and him being tortured, she thinks killing him would be a brave thing to do. This much hatred for a boy who got her daughter pregnant? Alice can be dramatic I know, but this is a bit too much, even for her.
Ronnie and Hermione
I’m glad Hermione told Ronnie exactly what was happening with Fred and how Hiram had gotten to know about them
Seriously the kids in this show seem so much more mature than the adults, Ronnie tells her mom to come clean - this is a small town, tell him before he gets to know from anyone else.
Cheryl and Archie
What’s with all this sudden interest in Archie, Cheryl? Has she always been interested? Remember Betty warning Ronnie in the pilot not to talk about Archie when Cheryl approaches them? Do they have a history? I don’t want Kevin or Reggie, I want you. She makes it seem as though it was all about him defending her to Sheriff Keller, but idk.
Ethel and Ronnie
Ronnie recognized Ethel’s poem for what it was - a cry for help. Then her confession to Kevin about what she and her BFF at Spence did to a girl called Paige (and the girl had to have therapy and transfer schools). Clearly she feels guilty as hell. Ronnie is trying to change and that’s what’s the best thing about her. She hardly ever backslides on her mission, in fact the only glimpses we see of the old Ronnie is possibly the regret laced in her voice when she talks about what they lost. 
I love that she immediately talked to Ethel and offered compassion and kindness. Ronnie is such friendship goals - really! 
Archie and Penelope Blossom
That far angle camera shot with both of them standing made me think they were gonna kiss! Archie - you truly are a ginger stallion offering rides to anyone who cares to get on!
Penelope brought up that jersey thing again - not only brought it up - they actually showed us that moment from the funeral when Archie offered her Jason’s jersey which makes me think this is important somehow. The fact that Penelope commented on his resemblance to Jason yet again - ‘i swear when the light hits you just right” - makes me wonder if that theory about him being the victim might not be true? Or the resemblance may not be concerned with the murder itself but to some other secrets that maybe revealed as to the truth of these kids’ real parentage? If Cheryl and Jason are not really Blossoms, then the whole legacy plot-line fails. Jason is not the heir, neither is Cheryl. 
Why does everyone need to reiterate the fact that Archie is good and decent unlike everyone else in this town??? Show us, don’t tell us. We had Cheryl, Mr and Mrs Blossom all talk about his great character and his goodness. Why are they rubbing in that fact? Is it not obvious? Or is it foreshadowing that he really is not good and decent and is going to do something dastardly? Or is it that in the Blossom’s book, good and decent people can be bought and /or used to their advantage? Like maybe they used some other good and decent people? Eg; Mary Andrews. What if Penelope was barren and couldn’t have children and since it was so important for the Blossoms to have a heir, Clifford had Jason and Cheryl with Mary (they need not have slept together, IVF and surrogacy were viable options) or someone else entirely? Maybe Fred needed money to set up the business and Mary was paid handsomely for it. And Fred wasn’t entirely on board with it, hence the tension between him and Mary and also the reason why they separated years later? Could this be the secret Fred is keeping? It was said that Cheryl and Jason’s twincest would be explored in this episode, but not quite in the way we expect. Was it an allusion to Cheryl kissing Archie? I know this theory has a hole because why would Clifford and Penelope actively encourage Archie to hang out with Cheryl? But I’m excited at the possibility that there maybe a link somewhere - Archie resembling Jason cannot just be a coincidence. The theory that Archie may not really be Fred’s son but Mary and Clifford’s has already been talked about. This could also be a reason for Fred and Mary to split if he found out years later. And maybe Cliff didn’t know, Mary never told him cause she was already married to Fred or something? But they’re drawn to Archie because he reminds them of Jason. Else its hard to understand the Blossom’s fixation with him! Archie’s loyalty to his dad keeps coming up too, he was willing to give up his musical career if Cliff would help his dad’’s business. It would be poetic if Fred wasn’t really his dad, yet they have this inextricable bond.
Archie was very believably seduced by the promise of a great musical future at the Bradenburg school and who wouldn’t be?
The kids in the common room
Jughead being the first to deduce that Mrs Blossom offering something to Archie cannot be without any strings attached - he’s so razor sharp, this boy!
Okay with you being a gigolo?
Ronnie is wise - she knows its hard to get by without connections but also that these connections come with a price-tag.
She looks to Betty for support, but Betty thinks its a great idea. Throwback to Archie asking Ronnie for support when Betty was attacking him about the Grundy thing, and Ronnie sides with Betty! Methinks Betty wasn’t thinking about Archie here, she wanted someone to get info on her sister for her, which is okay!
Maple syrup tapping scene
That scroll thing was ludicrous!
Cheryl was so nervous about the tree tapping thing, Archie’s encouragement got her going. Cheryl demeanor is a facade, she’s lost and lonely and also bitter and jealous. She wanted her parents’ attention, but Jason got it, he became the Golden boy. So she resorted to wild erratic behavior to get her parents’ attention. Inside, she’s just messed up, she craves approval and attention. Like all attention hungry kids she will do whatever it takes to ensure that all eyes are on her. She loves flattery and is immediately susceptible to anyone who even shows her a modicum of kindness, which shows she hasn’t had much growing up. Her parents are horrible to her, her brother was good to her, but he died. I wonder if her yearning for her parents’ approval made her hate Jason to deep down? Or at least resent him for being the favorite? Did she inwardly rejoice when he decided to run away, knowing that now her parents would now rely on her with Jason gone? Maybe they’d even cut him off from their legacy and she could be the heir? I did support the Cheryl killed Jason theory because of this notion. She does have a motive. If it were to come out that she actually really hated Jason and was jealous of him, she would have a very good reason to do away with him. It could also be that she loved him just like she says she does, and still thinks Polly killed her brother. That’s why she reddened Polly’s face and why she was the one to ask her to come stay with them in Thornhill. 
Polly thinks the Blossoms killed Jason, Cheryl thinks Polly did and the Blossoms just want their heirs aka Jason’s children that Polly’s carrying. Ugh! What a mess!
Archie standing up for Cheryl was sweet  and very Archie-like but it was a tad overdone - “Don’t underestimate Cheryl”? Don’t bet against her”? I think its foreshadowing about how crazed, dangerous and vindictive Cheryl really can be if you get on her wrong side which Archie managed to do by the end of the episode! Also her prompting him about her 4.0 GPA was so Cheryl!!! 
Archie gets sucked into escorting Cheryl to a banquet. And he’s going to have a suit tailor-fitted for the occasion! Poor sod!
So Ethel’s grandpa and dad are both called Manfred?
Hermione and Fred
Hermione finally came clean to Fred and told him about the land and the Lodges being the anonymous buyers. Fred was understandably pissed. Hermione is a smart cookie, maybe her business acumen is actually better than her husband’s and she’s the one calling all the shots while pretending to be this helpless, hapless woman. Didn’t Penelope say at the end that they should’ve sent Hermione to jail instead of Hiram?
So Clifford told Hiram that Hermione and Fred were together? Why? Just to gloat? Or to get him to sabotage his own building which is precisely what he did. So he knows exactly how Hiram would react. I’m curious about Hiram. If he was this cold-blooded businessman that everyone says he is, he wouldn’t react so impractically to his wife seeing Fred. He wouldn’t sabotage himself just for getting back at his wife’s lover, he could’ve thought up of other ways to deal with Fred. So Hiram loves Hermione, but does Hermione love Hiram? Was she just playing a game with Fred so he would get on board SoDale? But Fred was interested in SoDale anyway, She could’ve got him on board even without playing cootchie-coo with him. So did she really care? 
Fred toughened up and asked for a 20% stake and also ended things with him and Hermione. Which was great. Showed backbone and also his - I’m sick of you people using me and my family as pawns- speaks about his righteous anger against being taken for a ride. Hermione wasn’t pleased but had to grin and bear it for now. Hiram is certainly not going to be pleased. 
Back to Bughead and Cheryl (and I’m back to capslock)
POWER COUPLE WALK IN STEP
BETTY LOOKING TO JUGGIE FOR REASSURANCE SINCE SHE FINDS HER COURAGE FALTERING WHEN SHE CONFRONTS CHERYL
HE LOOKS BACK AT HER WITH A -YOU’VE GOT THIS BABE
AND OUR BABE ATTACKS - WHAT STOCKHOLM SYNDROME SPELL HAVE YOU CAST OVER MY SISTER?
JUGGIE LOOKS ON ADMIRINGLY AT WIFEY WITH A SMILE
THEN ATTACKS WITH HIS OWN - HOSTAGES DO NOT GET TO MAKE OUTGOING CALLS!
SO NANA BLOSSOM’S POWERS ARE TRUE, POLLY IS HAVING TWINS!
Cheryl mentions a Dr Patel, Is he Raj and Tina Patel’s dad? If yes, will we see them in Riverdale S2? Sidenote: Isn’t Tina one of Cheryl’s friends already?  
CHERYL DID YOU JUST CALL MY SON A HOBO YOU WITCH!!! (I love Cheryl btw, she’s so extra and Madelaine plays her so well)
SHE LITERALLY CUTS THROUGH THEM, PUSHING THEM APART! I already mentioned I think this is foreshadowing that she will be responsible for the conflict that creates a rift between Bughead.
BUT FEAR NOT, IT’S ONLY MOMENTARY. SINCE OUR BOY’S HAND IS BACK ON HIS GIRL’S BACK ALMOST THE IMMEDIATE NEXT SECOND! WHICH ALSO MEANS THE BUGHEAD RIFT IS GOING TO BE VERY VERY MOMENTARY AND THEY WILL BE BACK TOGETHER ALMOST IMMEDIATELY AND STRONGER THAN EVER!
Ronnie and Ethel
Ronnie telling Ethel her dad used to buy her expensive gifts whenever he did something wrong. Poor Ronnie. Her heartbreak at finding out Ethel’s dad had attempted suicide was so genuine, that scene was powerful and Camila played it very well, pulling apart the beads from her neck, symbolically destroying her dad’s hold over her. And her finally telling her mom she as done lying for him. It was a touch choice for Ronnie to make, loyalty to family or doing the right thing. I’m so glad she had the strength of character to make the more difficult choice!
Cheryl at Archie’s house
OMG Cheryl is really so extra. She called Fred DILF!
The Icewoman cometh!
Bribing Archie with an ‘84 Les Paul in their signature colour. Swoon!
I soo love Jughead’s expressions all through this exchange!
‘My claustrophobia acts up in small houses’. Is this going to come up again? Cheryl’s claustrophobia? Is someone going to lock her up in dark, dingy closeted space and that triggers something in her? Is she the one in danger that they’re trying to rescue in that snow scene like so many have already pointed out?
Cheryl kisses Archie twice and leaves a lipstick mark in this episode - on his cheeks and lips. Is this foreshadowing/ symbolism of some sort?
‘He’s also pimping himself out to Cheryl’ - Forsythe ‘subtle’ Jones everyone!
Hal and Alice
So Hal fired Alice and blocked her password? Really? He went there? And Alice calls him milquetoast?? More like fearless warrior to me! Hal showed his petty, vindictive side too, so there’s that!
So what’s this, Hal? You hate the Blossoms more than anyone, you don’t want to raise a child with Blossom blood, you have a personal vendetta against the Blossoms from before you were even born! And you’re telling Alice you won’t support her in HER personal vendetta? What even??? 
Okay, theory time! We know that Alice was mad at Hal for what he did to her - the same thing he did to Polly. But he only made an appointment for Polly. He may have done the same for Alice, but does that make it obvious she actually aborted the child? Maybe she gave it up for adoption (this was a choice the Coopers were on board with even for Polly)? Maybe the child was Cliff Blossom’s and that’s why Hal’s extreme hatred for any child with Blossom blood? Maybe Cliff raped Alice and got away because of his powerful connections and that’s why Alice’s extreme hatred for Cliff? I know it sounds crazy but it could explain a lot. I initially thought that Jason and Cheryl could be Alice’s kids (with Clifford) and they gave them up to the Blossoms to raise since Penelope was barren or whatever, but then Polly and Jason incest - yewww! But it would be delicious if the twins thing were actually a Cooper family thing and not a Blossom family one like everyone’s thinking, no??
Alice certainly has rage issues, throwing a brick at your husband, calling him a bastard all in front of your teenage daughter? WTF Alice?
Bughead at the Blue and Gold!
BETTY TELLING JUGGIE ABOUT HER PARENTS FIGHTING AND HOW ALICE THREW A BRICK AT HAL. LIKE I SAID, HE’S HER ROCK AND SHE CANNOT HIDE ANYTHING FROM HIM NO MATTER HOW UGLY!
JUGHEAD BEING JUGHEAD WHEN HE SAYS I WISH I’D SEEN THAT. HIS HUMOUR AND SARCASM ARE SO PART OF HIM NOW, THEY’RE NOT AN ARMOUR ANYMORE
BETTY ROLLING HER EYES AT HIM AND HE IMMEDIATELY APOLOGIZING FOR BEING INSENSITIVE - MARRIED!!!!!
BETTY BREAKING DOWN - THE COOPERS WON’T EXIST ANYMORE. SHE’S TIRED OF FIGHTING, POOR BABY, SHE’S EXHAUSTED AND SHE DOESN’T KNOW WHERE IT’S ALL GOING AND NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE
*SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND MODE ACTIVATED* - YOU ARE STRONGER THAN THE WHITE NOISE, STRONGER THAN YOUR FATHER, STRONGER THAN YOUR MOTHER, YOU’RE HOLDING YOUR FAMILY TOGETHER, DON’T GIVE UP, DON’T 
 THAT COLLAR GRAB, THE EARNESTNESS, THE URGENCY IN HIS TONE, HE CANNOT SEE HER BREAK APART, SHE IS HIS CONVICTION, HER FIGHT IS HIS FIGHT TOO. HIS FAITH IN HER ABILITY TO HOLD HER FAMILY TOGETHER IS AN ASSERTION THAT IF HE COULDN’T DO IT SHE COULD! SHE HAS TO SUCCEED, THEN MAYBE SOMEWHERE THERE WOULD BE SOME HOPE FOR HIM TOO!
DID YOU NOTICE HE SAID YOU’RE HOLDING “THIS” FAMILY TOGETHER - NOT “YOUR” FAMILY BUT “THIS” FAMILY- HE CONSIDERS HIMSELF A PART OF HER FAMILY. SHE’S HOLDING HIM TOGETHER TOO! SHE MADE HIM WHOLE, FIXED ALL HIS BROKEN PIECES. HIS “DON’T LET GO” WAS A PLEA FOR HER NOT TO LET GO OF HERSELF - BETTY COOPER, OF WHO SHE WAS DEEP UNDERNEATH AND WHAT SHE’S CAPABLE OF AND WHAT SHE BELIEVES IN. 
SHE IS IMMEDIATELY CONVINCED BECAUSE “I WON’T” IS A PROMISE SHE MAKES TO HIM. A PROMISE THAT SHE WILL BE WHOLE, UNBROKEN AND STRONG FOR HIS SAKE AND WILL CONTINUE TO KEEP HIS FAITH IN HER ALIVE!
THE HUG!
THAT’S ALL - GO HOME
Val and Archie
WHAT DID CHERYL SAY TO VALERIE??
The Blossoms are buying you!
If you have to ask - you don’t know me at all! Slay, Valerie!
Val blowing off Archie - good for you, Val!
Archie at Thornhill
Cliff Blossom thinks Archie by his daughter’s side could improve her image? Why Archie again? 
What were Cheryl and her dad arguing about when Archie was dancing with Polly?
Polly was playing Nancy Drew, I was right! But she’s being foolish. She’s heavily pregnant (with twins!) and she needs to protect her babies first. She entered the enemy’s lair without a thought for her own protection? She’s scared, she doesn’t want the Blossoms to know, which means she thinks they are dangerous. Why would she put herself and her babies willingly in harm’s way just because of the Cooper penchant for sleuthing? Also don’t understand how Betty and Alice can be okay with this madcap scheme?
Cheryl again with the you’re-the-only-good-person-in-this-town which changed the minute Archie wanted to leave. So she’s susceptible to flattery and also petty and vindictive when rejected. Did she kill Jason because he was kind of ‘rejecting’ her for Polly? Or was she secretly happy he was out of the picture so now she could become the focus for her parents?
There could be 2 reasons Cheryl hates Polly. One because Polly’s kids would be the heirs to the Blossom legacy and not her. After Jason she may have thought herself to be the sole claimant. But Polly being pregnant ruined everything for her. Btw, did they do a DNA/ paternity test yet to find if Polly is telling the truth about Jason being the father? The Blossoms are just taking Polly’s (and the Cooper’s) word for it? I think they would smell something underhanded knowing the Coopers are involved. Also Cheryl could hate Polly because she still thinks Polly killed Jason and wants to exact her own revenge on Polly. 
So Clifford sent Hiram to jail and that makes Hiram a suspect. But does this mean Hiram is really innocent? Or that Clifford just exposed his guilty ass?
Bughead and Alice
BETTY LOOKING AT JUGGIE TO INVITE HER MOM TO THE BLUE AND GOLD!
*SON-IN-LAW MODE ACTIVATED*
BLUE AND GOLD HAS A HIGHER ANNUAL OPERATING BUDGET THAN THE REGISTER? IS THAT POSSIBLE?
BUGHEAD BUGHEAD BUGHEAD
*SCREAMING*
BYE
ETA:
The last scene with Bughead realizing Hiram Lodge could be a suspect, Archie looking on clueless, while Betty and Jughead go back and forth completing each other’s sentences - OMG they’re so fucking attuned to each other!!
They have Hermione Lodge, the Blossoms, The Coopers, Hiram Lodge and Reggie Mantle (???? Why??) as probable suspects already. Why is FP Jones not on the murder board???? Because they don’t know about the jacket? 
THE PROMO FOR 110
JUGHEAD LOOKING UPSET AT THE MENTION OF A BIRTHDAY PARTY (MAYBE HE HASN’T HAD ONE IN FOREVER BCOS OF HIS DAD OR SOMETHING BAD HAPPENED AT THE LAST PARTY HE HAD AND HE DECIDED NEVER TO HAVE ONE BCOS IT BRINGS BACK BAD MEMORIES? *SOBBING*)
BURGER CAKE
BETTY IN A CROWN SWEATER
BUGHEAD ADORING LOOKS
ETHEL LOOKING SHADY AF
CHUCK CLAYTON GETTING SLAPPED BY BETTY
JUGGIE PUNCHING CHUCK
JUGGIE BRUISED ON HIS FACE (WHO’S A BRUISER NOW, MOOSE?)
RONNIE LOOKING UP WORRIEDLY (IS SOMEONE UPSTAIRS IN THE ROOM?)
SOMEONE IN A WHITE FUR COAT UNLOCKING (OR LOCKING) A DOOR - CHERYL?
ARCHIE AND RONNIE MAKING OUT
EVERYONE IS WASTED
WTF is happening?
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kayparker20 · 7 years
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Speaking of Reading
This is an essay I wrote for english and I honestly really love it so here you can read it 13 Feb 2017 Speak: to say words in order to express your thoughts, feelings, opinions, and so on. A verb. This is what people think of when they hear that word. They think of an action; of a moving mouth. I think of a name; Melinda. I think of an amazing, loving, caring author. I think of page turning. I think of not being able to put it down. I think of what Laurie said to me. I think of the book that changed everything for me: Speak.     I felt the tears come to my eyes as Laurie signed the book that saved me. The feeling of the tremble in my voice made it so hard to think as I tried to tell her how much this book helped me through a similar situation. I’ve never trust someone so quickly after the incident like I had instantaneously trusted this woman as she tightly wrapped her arms around me. Trust had been such a hard thing for me to give even after almost seven years. I will try to make a traumatic event simple (if that is possible). When I was nine, my Grandfather had tried to touch me in ways that were too friendly. I shut down. If I couldn’t trust family, who could I trust? I (or my parents) couldn’t even trust the law to keep me safe either. Thanks, all I wanted was a protective order. The judge apologized- maybe Grandpa could too? No. I had a rough time coping, as anyone would. Someone who I trusted and spent so much time with had tried to abuse me. None of us saw it coming, but I suppose no one ever does in situations like that. Because of this, I did more than empathize with Melinda as I read Speak. I knew. I knew exactly how she felt first hand. Scared. Distrustful. Violated. Betrayed. Alone. That feeling gave me a whole new meaning and purpose for reading. Until that point, reading was done for amusement. It was just something I enjoyed to pass time. I didn’t have a preference for what I read. I read fact books, mysteries, series, animal books, fantasy, realistic fiction. I never read anything that affected me at all, let alone in the brusque and unassailable way Speak had affected me. Revelling in that feeling of being understood, I craved to read more books that would create that same feeling. I craved to read more books I could relate to. Speak had showed me this whole new idea that still helps me today. Everyone says reading helps them escape from reality, but for me, not so much. Reading taught me to face my problems head-on. Reading taught me and reading showed me this whole new idea of dealing with life. I purposely sought out books with teen conflicts and such because I was able to relate to them. Reading literally rips my emotions out of me. I don’t talk about things very much. Well, no. I don’t let my emotions out as much as I should. Yes, I face my problems. However, I do it with it a lot of unhealthy emotional suppression. Reading books with characters I can relate and get attached to literally tears me open inside. The emotional reaction I get when a character dies or when I literally feel the same heartbreak they feel, is like the crack on a dam giving in and all that water bursting out of control. I imagine it is because I give a damn. Books have literally broken my heart but they are one of the only things that keep me from having a mental break. It is something with how the lines that make me crack are written. The more I can relate, the more emotion is pulls. It is a coping mechanism that works like a charm because I can cry without being judged. All that suppression just bursts out the dam and I feel okay again. I don’t fully understand how or why this helps so much.. It just does.     Reading is amazing. I can’t express how much reading helps me. Reading is the one things that instantly calms me. A book, a hot cup of coffee, a big comforter, and a soft bed is the best way I can think of to ease any anxiety. I could be on the brink of an anxiety attack and that exact activity will stop it from going into full blown panic.     I remember this one time, I was walking home in the dark. It was seven o’clock on a winter night. No stars dark. I swore I kept hearing noises and it was sending literal shivers down my spine, and it was not even that cold. Maybe 40 degrees. I know I wouldn’t have been shivering. I thought I heard footsteps at one point and cut across to the other side of the street. I felt like a cat with their fur standing straight up. I had been so aware to the point that it had really been paranoia. I couldn’t stop moving my hands and looking around me. I started to feel the beat of my heart banging against my sternum and my breath catching my in my throat. Just as my eyes started to sting with the salts of fear, I pounded up the four steps at my door upon arrival. I darted straight to my room. I had been reading The Impossible Knife of Memory at the time. I snatched the book and soared into the comforts of my bed. I quickly got under my pink and purple leopard print comforter. I read. I just read. I read until I couldn’t hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I read until my eyes weren’t stinging with fearful tears. I read until I couldn’t feel the vein in my right wrist twitching. I read until the throbbing in my left temple had soothed. I read until my chest stopped doing jumping jacks. I read until I gasped and let out a breath, the relief of that panic leaving my shoulders flowing through me. I had only read two pages, five minutes.     I am beyond thankful for reading for these things and even more.     Persistence. Vexatious. Insinuate. Secret. Ankh. (Noun. Adjective. Verb. Noun. Object.) These are words. Vocabulary. Facts.  I love learning new things, especially words. Those are words I learned from books, well a small few of them. The idea of words first interested me when we first started learning about antonyms and synonyms. Why is there more than one word to say the same thing? Laugh and giggle. Words have opposites? Love and hate. Words can have two meanings? Bowl and bowl. They sound and spell out the same- but one you roll toward random pins down an alley for sport. The other you eat out of. This whole idea was so fascinating to me as a kid and still is. Our english language is so complicated. It made me focus more on what I wanted to say. I quickly learned that asking and demanding are not the same, they are almost opposites. Good thing I never had to ask for books in the beginning, I suppose. It may not have gone as well as I would have wanted.     My Mom had started my book collection before I had even been born. I had all these different varieties. She had collected Little Golden Books, Dr. Suess books, Berenstein Bears books, these rainbow fish books (I could never remember her name and my Grandma doesn’t remember either?), and even disney themed books. I was always surrounded by books. And surrounded by people reading. Grandma read recipe books and magazines. My Grandpa had  always been reading the Bible or something biblical. Maybe a fishing magazine. My Mom had always been reading fantasy books. My Dad read comics and anything I was unable to read on the computer. I grew up being read to by all of them.  Typical, I know. But bedtime stories were my favourite thing. Grandma read to me whenever I stayed over until things started changing. Once I reached the first grade, my Dad’s new favourite thing to say to me was “Sound it out.”(Cause you know, you learn all that stuff in kindergarten, may as well use it, right? He sure thought so.) It used to be so annoying until I listened. After that, I wanted to read EVERYTHING. I had began forcing my Mom to listen to me read all those books she had collected years prior. My Dad too. I was always encouraged by them. “Good job!” “You did great!” “Wow! That was a big word, kiddo!” Why would I ever stop reading after all that? I never have stopped. Next thing we all knew, I was reading to Grandma at night. I was reading to all of them. I had one time read a whole book in three hours to my Grandparents and my sister (I didn’t really give them a choice. I was extremely persistent about this new skill.). I was a third grader and the book was about 100 pages, no more than at least.     If you think three hours is a long time, try whole entire days. I can read a 300 page book in six hours when I do nothing but read. I really enjoy trying to increase my reading speed. It’s a challenge to me, and I love to challenge myself.     Basically, reading isn’t just reading. Reading isn’t a big thing; reading is a bunch of small things. Reading is teaching. Reading is relatable. Reading is therapeutic. Reading is comfort. Reading is that thing that makes you face your problems. Reading is learning. Reading is coping. Reading is calming.     Reading is fun. I will always speak of it because Speak was the book that made me realize all those things. Reading is fun, but it is also so, so, so much more.
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