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anxiousstark · 4 years

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Can you stay a little longer? | JJ MAYBANK

Warnings: Sadness, angst, pain, mentions of death.

Word Count: 1635

A/N: If you guys like Teen Wolf or Dylan O’Brien, I have a Teen Wolf Rewrite. I would be so happy if you guys check it out.

BIG MASTERLIST

You were freezing, but those were the consequences of going out on the boat pretty late at night. Nevertheless, sometimes you needed to be on your own to recollect yourself. The smooth movements of the boat being moved by the gentle waves made you feel a little more relaxed. A chill running through your body, cursing yourself for not bringing a cloth to put over your trembling body.

You had turned off the engine of the boat, letting it float freely. You were a little farther from the usual, and it wasn't intelligent of you to do so, especially so late at night. But you were convincing yourself that you would know how to go back and that everything would be alright. Well, not everything.

Getting up from when you were sitting, you walked closer to one of the sides of the boat, peering down at the dark water. It seemed like the waves were luring you in, telling you to jump. But of course, that wasn't a smart idea.

"Hey," A whisper startled you, turning around you saw a pair of blue eyes, which made you question yourself how they could be so bright when it was so dark, maybe it was the moon illuminating his stunning eyes. He went closer, arms embracing your waist. "Shouldn't you go back to the Chateau?"

You shook your head. "They won't stop fighting." The tension between all pogues could be cut with a knife. Kie wasn't talking, ignoring everyone, and walking away as soon as she could. Pope tried to be strong, running after her all the time, trying to comfort the girl he was in love with. Then, things between John B and Sarah didn't seem to go well. It made you think that they would end up breaking up, which would tear both of them even more.

You couldn't stand that tension anymore, that is why you were now in the middle of the sea, on the boat all the pogues cherished. However, John B would be so mad. Everyone would be mad, but he was your own blood, your big brother.

You sat down, sighing, blinking as quickly as possible to avoid tears falling down your cheeks. Luckily enough, if you couldn't hold back the tears, the dark night would do so for you.

JJ Maybank sat down next to you, arm around your waist, bringing you closer to his cold body, which was strange because JJ was always warm. Every winter, when both of you were lying together on your shared bed in the Chateau, you would press your cold feet on his warm legs, trying to heat your feet.

"Mmh, you know what I really really really want right now?" His fingers caressed your hair, sometimes getting stuck between some knots. "One of those milkshakes you love so much, damn, my mouth is watering."

You laughed, eyes closed, nose nuzzling on the crook of his neck. Every summer you bought this banana milkshakes, they were delicious. The first time you asked John B to buy you one in front of JJ, the blond guy laughed loudly, thinking you were childish because milkshakes were for little kids. As days went by, his curiosity got the best of him, looking at your milkshakes with a little envy and interest. The time came when JJ was brave enough to ask for a sip, from that day onwards he decided you had to give him a couple of sips, not wanting to buy his own because he wanted to share with you. But you didn't mind, you never did.

You opened your eyes when you felt some drops against your arm. "Fuck," He muttered. "You need to go back. A storm is coming, and fast." His eyes left the sky, now holding your gaze and seeing how you were shaking your head. He whispered, offering you a little smile. "It's dangerous," He got up, his warmth leaving your body. You walked closer to him while he turned the engine of the boat on. "You need to go back." He repeated while turning the boat around, determined to carry you back to the Chateau.

You couldn't hold back anymore, sobbing violently. "I-I don't want to." Gosh, you probably looked like a disaster. Wet hair due to the rain, runny nose, red eyes, etc.

"I don't want you to go back neither." His hands ended up on your cheeks, thumbs rubbing your cheekbone. His teary eyes took turns, looking between your eyes and your mouth, trying o decide where to focus his attention. "It's dangerous. I want you back home safely. I want you back home with all the pogues." His lips and breath caressed yours. Your hands grabbed his neck, pulling him closer while his lips seemed terrified of kissing you deeply, but you weren't so you put him as closely as possible.

The way back to the Chateau was full of tears, heartbreaking sobs, and bodies clutching to each other, embracing. JJ's biggest fear came when the boat had stopped, meaning you guys were back, and that you had to go back before John B and the others would have a heart attack searching for you.

On the distance, you saw the other pogues, they seemed to be stressed. Kiara was the first one to notice you, pointing, which made the other pogues look in your direction, running towards you. Before they could come closer, you turned around, glancing at JJ that was now behind you, hand on your lower back. "Can you stay a little longer?" He shook his head, making you whimper.

"I want to," His lower lip trembled. You saw JJ's vulnerable side again, his hands going to his mouth, he bit it, trying to control his tears. "But I can't."

"Y/N!" Your head snapped back. Your brother was running towards you, eyes full of tears, hair a mess. Your boyfriend helped you get down off the boat, but he stayed. A body collided with yours. "Are you crazy?" Over his shoulder, you were met by the glances of your friends, full of worry, embracing each other. It was the first time in a couple of months since you had seen them so close to each other. "It's 1 a.m! What were you thinking, uh?" His hands were now on your shoulders, shaking you lightly. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"I was with JJ." Everyone stopped on their tracks, not daring to say or do anything.

"John B," Kiara moved him away, going closer to you and hugging you as tightly as she could.

"No," He firmly stated when he guessed what Kiara's intentions were. "This is not the first time you've done this." He was in front of you again, eyes glaring deeply into your eyes. "Do you know how worried we were? Haven't you thought about us?"

"Haven't you thought about me?" You replied, shocking everyone with your firm voice. "You guys are constantly arguing, and I'm tired of it." Your voice got louder. "You," You pointed at your brother. "You have Sarah, you guys love each other so fucking much, but you are wasting your time in stupid arguments that will tear you both apart if you don't stop!" Tears filled with rage and sadness ran down your cheeks. "Pope," The boy jumped a little when he thought about you yelling at him. "When are you going to tell Kiara that you are in love with her?" Now, you looked at the other girl. "When are you going to stop concealing your feeling for him?" Both of them glanced at each other sadly.

"Y/N..."

"Why him?" Your voice cracked. "There are so many people in the world. There are murderers out there, and people who have done disgusting things." Sarah took a step closer to you, her heart breaking for you. "However, whatever is up there," You glanced at the sky for a couple of seconds. "Decided to take JJ."

"Let's go back, okay?" Your big brother out his arms around your shoulders, letting you rest your head against his chest. "It's raining and you are freezing."

"He took JJ." Your sobs were even harsher than before. They whimpered, missing their blond. They had lost a friend, a pogue, a family member, but you lost all that and a boyfriend, for sure the love of your life.

You turned around, still in John B's arm. JJ was looking at all of his friends, crying violently. His face was red, hands between his locks, gripping it hard. He was still on the boat. His eyes met yours, droplets of tears wetted his lips that were trying to offer a smile to calm you down.

"Let's go inside." Sarah decided to talk for the first time. "We can play your favorite film on the background, I will cook your favorite dish, and we will cuddle, okay?" She hoped to comfort you, but nothing could, at least she tried, and you knew you were loved. Furthermore, you noticed how her hand grabbed John B's hand tightly, sometimes sharing glances full of love. They finally understood that if they were together, it would be easier to go through JJ's death.

Kiara and Pope walked in front of the three of you, their hands lightly touching until Pope was brave enough to interlock his fingers with Kiara's ones. They also understood.

For the last time, you turned around. JJ Maybank wasn't in the boat anymore. You knew what that meant. It meant you had to let go. You wept, worrying your friends as they thought you were more peaceful now. Shaking legs made you fall to the floor, thankfully your brother was holding tightly onto you. Questions of your well-being were drowned by your cries.

JJ Maybank couldn't stay a little longer.

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kate04us · 3 years

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Walking Away

More prompt fic! I got two really awesome angst prompts, one from @virtualtaleinternet (”Do you even still love me?”) and one as an anonymous request (”Nobody has seen you in days”), and they happened to find a shared home in this story. Thank you so much for the fun prompts!

This is for @kadi219, because she loves Sharon/Jack angst, and because it’s her birthday, and because she’s the bestest twin in the whole world. Happy Birthday, lady! 😘💙

“Where the hell have you been, Jack?”

Sharon had lost count of the number of times she had asked that question over the last several years. She should be used to it by now. Ever since Ricky had been a baby, Jack had spent less and less time at home. It had started with late nights at work that turned into even later nights at the bar. Those had slowly become all-nighters that morphed into entire weekends away. So far, he’d had the curtesy to at least let someone know where he was, even if she had to make half a dozen calls before she found out.

This time, however, he had been gone for almost a week, and no one had known where he was. She always worried about him when he was gone. He drank too much, and while he wasn’t a violent drunk, he did have a big mouth. It was only a matter of time before he had words with the wrong person, or got hit by a car, or got robbed, or passed out and hit his head. There was no end to the horrifying scenarios her mind, aided by her job experience, provided, and she had spent countless nights tossing and turning, waiting for him to come home.

“I was out with a few friends,” he replied, his tone dismissive, as if he had merely missed dinner by half an hour.

Sharon shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her as she stared at him. “Jack, nobody has seen you in days.

It was a struggle to keep her voice down. She wanted to yell at him for scaring her, for making Emily cry because he had missed her recital, but she knew that it would be useless. He was still drunk, he looked like he hadn’t seen a shower or a razor in days, and his shirt and tie were probably beyond even their drycleaner’s considerable skills. It was the red and black silk tie she had gotten him for his last birthday, she noted. That he had ruined it seemed to be just one more thing he didn’t care about.

“What about it? Tom just thought it’d be fun to go to Vegas for a day or two, so we went,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders, and looking at her as if he really didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. “Can’t a guy spend some time with his friends anymore?”

Closing her eyes, Sharon took a deep, calming breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she felt a headache building up behind her eyes.

“Yes, Jack, of course you can spend time with your friends. However, it would be appreciated if you let me know about it, so that I don’t have to sit at home wondering if I’m going to get a call from the police asking me to identify your dead body.” Her voice hitched slightly at that thought. She had gone down that road in too many of her nightmares. With a quieter voice she continued, “It would also be nice if you checked whether we have anything scheduled before you vanish. I had to ask someone to swap on-call nights because I couldn’t find anyone to watch the children on such short notice. And you’ll have to think of something to make it up to Emily that you missed the recital you promised to go to. I told her you had to go on a work trip, and I gave her some flowers from you, but she was heartbroken.”

It wasn’t the first time that Sharon had been forced to cover for her husband, and it was only a matter of time before the children would be too old to fall for it. A year, or even a few months earlier, she might have held on to the hope that he would get better, that he would keep his word, cut back on the drinking, and be there for them. That time had passed, however. She would keep fighting for their marriage, because that was what she was supposed to do, but it was exhausting to do it alone.

“Yeah, I’ll take her for ice cream or something tomorrow,” he suggested, sounding as if caring for his own daughter was an imposition. It angered Sharon more than all the inconsiderate behavior he had aimed at her over the years.

“You promised not to do this anymore, Jack,” she reminded him, suddenly tired of rehashing the same argument over and over again. “You said you would be here more, that we’d do this together. We’re supposed to be a team, remember?”

He rolled his eyes and heaved a deep sigh as he leaned against wall next to the stairs. “Do we have to do this now? I’m tired and I have a headache, and your nagging only makes it worse.” When he looked at her and saw her thunderous expression, he sighed again, his tone a little more conciliatory when he went on. “I’m here now, okay? I’ll watch the kids this week if you’re on call. Is that what you want?”

His words felt like a slap in the face, and she swallowed past the tears she refused to shed in front of him. She knew that he didn’t try to hurt her or to be cruel, but that didn’t lessen the pain he inflicted with his dismissive words.

“You don’t even remember, do you?”

Throwing his arms up, Jack shook his head. “What? Did I forget some school fundraiser or the church fair? What is it this time, Sharon?”

She shook her head in resignation at his annoyance. She couldn’t do this anymore. This was how it always went between them these days. It had been for almost five years. She had tried so hard to understand him, to figure out what she was doing wrong, why it was so difficult for him to be with her, with his family, but no matter what she did, no matter how many concessions she made, he seemed to be unable or unwilling to change. Maybe it was time she admitted defeat and stopped expecting him to be the husband and father she wished for.

“You know what? Forget about it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

She didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. All she felt was overwhelming hurt and a sense of hopelessness that made her eyes sting with tears. What was the point of reminding him that it had been their eighth wedding anniversary three days ago? If he couldn’t recall that they had planned a romantic evening at a nice restaurant, or that they had tickets to see his favorite opera, what would it accomplish if she brought it up now? He didn’t seem to care, so there was no use in talking about any of it.

Without another word, Sharon turned around, intending to go outside, to sit on the patio and stare at the starless sky until the splinters of her shattered heart stopped cutting into her. Or at least until Jack had gone upstairs and passed out. She took a few steps away from him but paused in the doorway to the living room.

“Do you even still love me?”

Her voice was quiet, no more than a whisper, raspy and shaking as she forced the words out. She didn’t dare look at him, her eyes fixed on the ground. The silence was oppressive. The only sounds she heard was the whirring of the air-conditioning unit and the wild beating of her own heart. With every passing second, another piece broke off her heart, and when she couldn’t take it anymore, she looked at him over her shoulder.

Sharon didn’t know what she had expected. She had hoped for an unequivocal yes, but braced herself for a dismissive shrug or a more or less subtle no. The shock and heartbreak she saw on his face, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, was much worse. She saw it all right there. He did still love her, and he knew he was hurting her, but he didn’t know how to be what she needed. He feared losing her, and maybe he was right to. What was she supposed to do with this, with a one-sided marriage that wasn’t short on love, because, God help her, she did love this man, but on everything else? Was it even still worth fighting for? It would have been easier if he had told her that he didn’t love her anymore. It would have hurt, but at least it would have made the way ahead clearer.

With a short nod and a sad smile, Sharon turned away from him and walked back into the living room. She hesitated at the patio doors, one hand on the doorknob, watching his reflection in the glass. He had started to follow her but paused in the doorway. Their eyes met for a breathless moment, until his shoulders sagged, and his gaze dropped to the floor at his feet before he turned around and trudged up the stairs.

Sharon let out a shuddering breath, screwing her eyes closed. Her throat felt tight, and she tried to swallow past it, to keep her emotions bottled up, but it was no use. Pressing her hand against her mouth, she leaned her head against the doorframe. Her shoulders shook with her quiet sobs as she finally allowed the tears to fall.

The moment he had turned around, she realized that she had wanted him to come after her, but once again, he had chosen to walk away. Once again, he had left her alone with her fears, and pain, and broken heart. Once again, he had left her to make the decisions. Once again, he had left her.

Maybe it was time she learned how to leave.

~FIN~

#Major Crimes #major crimes fanfiction #MajorCrimes Shandy #shandy #sharon x andy #sharon raydor #andy flynn #sharon and andy #fanfic prompt #fanfic

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local80smotel · 4 years

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All knowing love

pairing; V x Trans Man! Reader

summary; being under V's loving and watchful eye.

requested; Anonymous

rating; T

warnings; transphobia, parental abuse (physical), hints of suicide (but never outright said)

word count; 2185

A/N; this isn't wasn't the fluffiest thing I could write but once talking to my trans boyfriend I couldn't help but feel having a bit of angst was acceptable.

When Y/N was still just a child, he knew something was off about him. Not something "bad" or "wrong" that people would call this feeling when he'd tell them. "It's just a phase" was a comment that was thrown at them mostly by their parents when they were still in their teens, just before high Chancellor Sutler was ever in the eye of politics. Oh, how those days would seem like a humid southern summer walk compared to when Sutler came into the picture. The transphobia he had experienced grew like how weeds grow in futile soil.

The comments like "You're confused" slowly started to warp into something more demeaning to the boy as the Chancellor candidate's toxic grip on the people of England started to squeeze any "unwanted" life out of it. "Undesirable" life as he would call it. When hair was cut after Sutler was elected, there weren't small arguments anymore that would be fixed when he'd be asked if he were hungry and wanted to eat supper with them. It became violent and unlike the people who had raised him for the last 15 years. Having handfuls of freshly cut hair be ripped out because his mother was holding him by his scalp just to yell in his face how much of a monster he was broke his heart.

Was it fear that caused this? Were they scared of losing their only child as many other families had? Was their bundle of joy in their life really an undesirable and the cause of this virus outbreak? Just why? He'd ask himself that as he was packing his bags in preparation to leave the family home for good.

Three long years had passed and at the ripe age of 18, he moved out into the busy streets of London. A small pit in his stomach began to form as the sickening feeling came back. The cause of it was from one simple but yet complex question; could he survive in this fascist regime? Sadness also fueled this emotional fire, sadness from knowing he'd have to use so many things he knew was wrong and didn't describe him truthfully just so he could get a place to come to when curfew hit; The name that was long dead to him the second it was given to him and female pronouns. He'd be signing his own death certificate if he put Y/N instead of his deadname on his application to rent.

They'd look it up and find no Y/N L/N in England and call the police on him in a split second. Shivers ran down his spine as he imagined what would happen to him if that became a reality. No one knew what happened when you were deemed "undesired" but everyone after having Sulter for three years knew that they would go missing and would be never seen of or heard from again. You were just wiped off the face of the Earth.

Y/N lucky had enough money saved from working in retail for the past 2 years to get a small apartment. When he was finally given the keys to the place he couldn't help but sigh in relief. At least in this tiny space, he could be his true self without shaking in fear as he had in his past while being stuck in his parents' home. The next three years were some of the worse when it came to dysphoria. Being forced to go to work almost every day and be called ma'am or miss and be deadnamed constantly damaged his mental health to the point it felt easier just to be open with his identity.

Anything would be better than being forced to hide in this shell of terror. Nights of panic attacks and sobbing that sounded like a wounded animal as he laid on the rotten wooden floor became a routine. On the morning of his 21st birthday, he woke up in the late afternoon. There was no panic in him when he realized he was late for work, how could someone care when this would be their last day on Earth?

With scissors in his hand, he grabbed his hair and began to chop it off sloppily but that didn't matter to him as long as it was finally short like it was when he was a child, and that was enough for him. The thought that when the police would see him, that'd see a man instead of what society had deemed him brought a smile to the young adult. The feeling of freedom pumped through his veins as he went on with his day. It felt odd but refreshing to feel the cold air from his AC on his neck as he fixed himself some bacon and eggs. It wasn't the fanciest thing someone could eat on this day, but it was enough for him.

Around ten AM he left his flat, walking with newfound confidence due to his hair and now his wrapped chest. He had heard from the grapevine that wrapping one's chest in medical bandages could cause serious damage like nerve loss but one this final day he decided to risk it so he could pass in normal daily life. Being called sir by ticket seller at the movies brought him so much joy as he grabbed his "Count of Monte Cristo" tickets and wished them a good day as he went deeper into the movie theater to find theater four to watch the movie. Y/N was somewhat surprised to see only one other person in the audience. Sure, he was 10 minutes late but this was a classic film that was finally being let out of the vault to be watched again! Nevertheless, the man sat down a few rows in front of the figure, settling down into the uncomfortable chair.

“I didn't expect you to come.”

He could tell from how the figure's words were muffled that they were wearing a mask. Y/N turned to them with a confused look on their face.

“Excused me?” Y/N asked but their confusion just deepened as he saw that the figure was wearing.

A Guy Fawkes mask with a matching hat while wearing pitch-black clothing. The man under the mask chuckled as they stood up, Y/N couldn't help but be slightly intimidated by the height of this masked figure.

“I should have done this first so you wouldn't be so perplexed, ” he cleared his throat as began monologing, using many words that start with the letter V in his speech which in turn slightly impressed the 21-year-old.

“But you can simply call me V.”

"V" said while taking a bow

Y/N couldn't help but snicker at this display of some kind of knightship which in turn had V cocked his head in slight confusion on what could be so funny

“Well, Mr. V, might I ask why you're here alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing, but as I am apparently on a tight schedule I won't elaborate”

“Tight sch-” the man interrupted them by placing his leather glove covered finger on top of their lips

“Yes, very much tight schedule as I only have 2 hours till your self made demise am I correct?”

He was blown away at the fact this random stranger knew of his most shameful plan, but the feeling of shock was soon replaced with anger. This creep was stalking me! He thought as he slapped away the masked man, getting up from his chair as he did so.

“You have some right talking to me like that!” he yelled as he started to march away from them.

V reached out and grabbed their hair in a somewhat gentle way

“Y/N wait please, ” he sighed as Y/N stopped who's face was twisted in bitterness “I understand how you feel Y/N, I truly do. I was labeled an undesirable so please don't think that I've been keeping an eye on you in for any other reason than just to keep you safe.”

When he said this Y/N rage seemed to melt away slowly. How was he able to survive being an undesirable? So many questions filled the male's head but the only word he could speak was

“How?”

V let go of his hair as he straightened his posture “If you come with me I'll tell you.”

The more sensible side of the man told him to run away from this masked freak and enjoy what little time you had left in peace but something stopped him. After a moment of silence, he nodded to V's pleasure. He took the 21-year old by the hand and lead them to the back exit. The two walked down the alley and what drew Y/N's eye other than the 6'3 black mass was the posters. Every single one they pasted seemed to have a V cut into them.

He broke the long silence with another question “Did you mark those posters?”

“Does a raven speak?”

“But why?”

V didn't stop walking but he could feel his eyes on him. For being an undesirable he sure seems fine being out after curfew Y/N thought as they waited for the answer.

“The people deserve a symbol. Something to get them through this.”

He opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that but quickly shut it once the meanings of the words came to mind. Maybe he wasn't this creep, more like this country's guardian angel that would save them all from high Chancellor Sutler. It didn't take long for him to reach what Y/N guessed as V's home which turned out to be an abandoned Victoria station. Y/N looked over at him with an eyebrow raised as V opened the hatch that kept the station locked to the public who had originally thought it was abandoned. V turned back to the man and gave him his hand simply saying "follow me, sir Y/N".

Once V was given the curious man's hand he rubbed his thumb over their knuckles before tenderly pulling them inside. He held the hand as they walked in the pitch black, guiding them until they found a giant door which to Y/N's touch felt like it had complex carvings in them. When the masked man opened the door Y/N couldn't help but wince as golden light hit his E/C eyes that had just gotten used to the dark. He had expected V to let go of his hand once they reached his "lair" but he didn't. Oh, what a perplexing and mysterious man he was.

Y/N would be lying if he said his face wasn't blushing at this moment in time. V led them deeper into his beautiful home until both of them to were behind his couch which was black leather. In front of the said couch was a glass coffee table with a box on it. Y/N's hand was finally let go of as V sat on the couch.

“Come sit, I have something to give you.”

“But you said-”

“Please?”

He sighed as he complied, arms folded as he sat next to him. V opened the box and to Y/N's surprise, there was a biner in it. Once again, all he could ask was "How?" as all production and selling of items that could help trans folk was banned just as the Koran was. The masked man took the folded bundle into his giant hands and gave it to them once again shocked male.

“Life has been tough enough on you even if we don't add our government into it. Thank you for holding on. For surviving this long and not letting them take away your love for life and your fighting spirit.”

Without any hesitation, Y/N pulled V into a tight embrace with tears threatening to fall. No one had ever put their life in danger to give them this piece of happiness like this stranger had. All he could do was whimper out a "thank you" as a sob shook his chest deeply.

“Since I showed you my lair, you're going to have to stay till the next November the fifth, is that okay?”

Y/N couldn't help but nod immediately. He could finally be somewhere he was truly accepted for who he really was; a man who was just simply given the wrong body at birth.

V placed his hands on top of the weeping H/C man, stroking the uneven hair and placed his head onto the others.

“I'm cooking ham, is that okay?”

“mmhmm..”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

#v for vendetta x reader #v for vendetta imagine #v for vendetta #anonymous #anon ask #anonymous request #anon request #imagine requests #imagine #imagine request #trans reader #trans!reader #V x reader

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troop-scoop · 4 years

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Mistakes & Regrets XIX

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

Warnings: Swearing probably,

• • •

Clutching the side of the jacket you let your mind wander, walking along the abandoned train tracks shivering.

Every few minutes you’d bump shoulders with Steve, taking the right side of him because the middle schoolers were on the left, and while you usually liked to be around people at night, especially under these circumstances, you just felt crowded, and wanted to be near someone familiar.

The zipped up jacket was practically stabbing into your throat with it’s zipper, the unbuttoned collar also getting on your nerves with how it brushed against your cheeks whenever you let your head hang.

When you were little you could remember your dad and pa giving you their jackets when you were cold, and they were comically too big on you then, going down to your ankles when you were super little, and then to your knees when you were about five.

You’d stolen your brother’s jackets a few times but most of the time you opted for your dad’s hoodies that weren’t too big on you when you stopped growing in sixth grade. But your dad and pa still towered over you then.

You were used to jackets that weren’t yours, but you’d never worn someone’s clothing that wasn’t family, so when Steve stopped everyone to give you his jacket because he noticed that you were freezing, it was awkward, with you shivering and shaking your head to try and refuse it before he’d grabbed your face to make you look at him, telling you “You’re gonna freeze, put on the jacket.”

Aggressive caring.

“Thanks, by the way.” You told him. Sometimes it was hard to accept that people actually cared about you. It didn’t used to be, but it was now. And Joyce and Jonathan were too nice and worried about you to get aggressive or irritated by your refusal to accept their affection or nice gestures.

But Steve wasn’t, and that's why you didn’t want to tell him about the truth. He could not only be killed, but you didn’t want him to coddle you like they tried to.

“Yeah.” Steve responded, looking at you as you looked back up. “Stop being so stubborn all the time.”

From movies to acts of kindness, you were stubborn about all of it. You were sure you got it from Pa.

You smiled, looking ahead of you, reaching for his hand, taking the flashlight. “You too.” Grasping onto his hand you could see him smile and shake his head from beside you while you pointed the flashlight. “You also need to accept help sometimes.”

“You’re positive that was Dart?” Lucas asked Dustin.

“Yes. He had the same exact yellow pattern on his butt.”

“But he was tiny two days ago.” Max pointed out, confused by it all. Just like you all had been a year prior. But the Demogorgon was scarier than a single one of Dart. But five of them? Forget it, you wanted to move. You technically could, but you were sure the government didn’t want you to.

“Well, he’s molted three times already.”

“Malted?”

“Molted.” Dustin corrected. “Shed his skin to make room for growth like hornworms.”

“Thinking about milkshakes, Harrington?” You teased quietly, feeling his grip on your hand playfully tighten before rolling your knuckles. “Ow,” You hissed, elbowing his arm.

“Well, when’s he gonna molt again?”

“It’s gotta be soon. When he does, he’ll be fully grown or close to it. So will his friends”

“Yeah, and he’s gonna eat a lot more than just cats.” Steve pointed out, making you shake your head a bit, sad for the poor cat you’d brought back to Dustin’s once when he got out in January.

Lucas grabbed Dustin’s shoulder, “Wait, a cat?” Did he not already know? “Dart ate a cat?”

“No, what? No.” Dustin stuttered, while you, Steve and Max stopped as well, staring back at the two boys.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews.”

“Mews? Who’s Mews?”

“Mrs. Henderson’s cat. Poor thing.” You said sadly, leaning your head on Steve’s shoulder and holding onto his forearm with the hand holding the flashlight.

“Y/n!”

“I knew it! You kept him!” Lucas accused.

Looking up at Steve you both had semi wide eyes, “I think we said stuff we weren’t supposed to.” He gave you a nod as if to say that was obvious.

“No. No, I. . . No, I. . . He missed me. He wanted to come home.”

“Bullshit!”

Growing up, out of your dad and his friends, it was always Uncle Lucas to call someone on their shit. You supposed it was no different when he was thirteen.

“I didn’t know he was Demogorgon, okay?”

“Oh, so now you admit it?”

“Guys, who cares? We have to go?” And Aunt Max was always the voice of reason.

“I care!” Lucas was always the one to dwell on things. “You put the party in jeopardy!” Now you just wanted to hum the Jeopardy theme. “You broke the rule of law!

“So did you!”

The three of you who weren’t arguing were just staring, mouths slightly open and forming a semi circle to watch.

“What?”

Dustin flashed Max’s face with his light. “You told a stranger the truth!”

Now Max was involved with the argument. “A stranger?” SHe demanded, walking the few steps to them on the tracks.

“You wanted to tell her, too!”

Steve looked to the right, over your head, and when you noticed, you did too, hearing the faint screeching from far away.

Steve let go of your hand, leaving you with the flashlight pointed in the direction of the sound as he stepped off the tracks to look deeper into the woods. “Hey guys,” Steve tried, but the trio continued to argue. “Guys!” He yelled, turning to look at them and you.

The screeching continued, and you both looked at each other before you stepped off the tracks, taking the gun from your waist and following him into the treeline, hearing Lucas and Dustin follow behind you in a hurry while Max’s voice could be heard asking you all the question you often asked while watching horror movies. “Why are you headed towards the sound!”

You followed Steve until you reached a clearing on a hill, the small downtown of Hawkins in the distance with the winding roads dark except for the few headlights you could see from where you were.

“I don’t see him.” Dustin spoke.

Lucas grabbed his binoculars, looking out over the landscape. “It’s the lab. They were going back home.”

Suddenly you got a shiver up your spine, and that sinking feeling came. The one you kept comparing to being on a rollercoaster. You hadn’t felt it for awhile. In fact the last time you felt it was when the Demogorgon was at the middle school, and before that, was when Will was-

You didn’t have time to process anything, you took off running in the direction of the lab, fear powering a surge of adrenaline that pushed you in the direction of the dark laboratory.

“Y-Y/n! Hey!” Steve yelled after you, and you could hear all four sets of feet following after you. THe last time it was this bad, this feeling, where it felt like you were going to freeze and vomit and start violently sobbing all at the same time was when Will was at the wall when you tore the wallpaper. When he was in danger.

“Hello? Who’s there?” a deepened voice yelled as you came out from the tree line. You stopped dead in your tracks, seeing Jonathan and Nancy, the old ford parked outside the closed gate of the lab.

“Y/n?” They both asked you in unison. Dropping both the gun and the flashlight you began to run again.

“Uncle Jon!”

You saw the worry on his face, both of them approaching you too, he opened his arm to embrace you, holding you tight in a hug once you’d reached them.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Jonathan admitted, his grip on you almost suffocating.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” You asked, pulling away, looking up at him with a questioning gaze.

“Our house was trashed, and there were polaroid cartridges all around, someone was there, and when we went to your apartment it was trashed to and I-” Jonathan was talking so fast that you could barely understand him. He looked past you and up the hill you’d come down from.

“Steve?” Once again both he and Nancy asked at the same time.

“Jonathan?”

“Nancy?”

“What are you doing here?” Nancy asked, approaching the group while Jonathan stayed with you, finally noticing the jacket you were wearing.

“Is this Steve’s?” He asked, grabbing the side pockets.

“That doesn’t matter! WIll’s in there, I know it!” You told him. “And something bad happened or is going to happen, I just know it!”

“Okay, okay.” He tried comfort, grabbing your shoulder and walking over to where Steve and Nancy were along with the thirteen year olds.

The loud screeching started again, and you could feel tears well up in your eyes, they went into arguing, and explaining themselves on how they got there, the tweens arguing with each other about Dart, you held onto Jonathan’s arm in a death grip, staring at the building, wanting to go in even if there was a gate that wouldn’t open and barbed wire on top of the fence.

But when you saw the lights turn back on, you then tried to grab Steve. You didn’t like feeling weak, like you couldn’t control anything. Like you were a scared little kid.

But you were a kid, maybe not little enough to wear a hoodie as a dress, but you knew that you weren’t fully developed yet, and wouldn’t be for a long time. It was cruel that the moment you didn’t have your dad, this is how you felt, terrified of anything the dark had to offer, when that was usually a child’s thing.

You should have had that phase as a child, so Dad or Pa could have held you and told you it was alright, that there were no monsters under the bed, and back then? You could have believed them. Now? You’d call anyone who tried to say that, ‘a fucking liar.’

But instead you started walking back to the Ford, where the security box was, the type you’d see at payed parking lots or at drive-in. When you turned your head to look back at the group, they started running, Jonathan grabbed your arm, dragging you along until you both reached the box, the others arriving seconds after while he began to press the button.

“Lemme try.” You told him not articulating your first two words of the scentence, stepping into the box and hip checking him to move. You pressed the red button, and nothing happened. You continued to press it like you would a crosswalk button, that was until Dustin came over.

“Let me try.” He offered, trying to step into the box. He grabbed your shoulder trying to move you.

“Hang on-” You and Jonathan both tried to tell him before Dustin pushed you back as gently as he could.

“What the fuck, dude? This isn’t like the arcade!” You told him, shoving the back of his shoulder, while he proceeded to hit the button over and over again like the two of you had tried to do already.

Looking over at Steve, he only shrugged.

“Son of a bitch! You know what-” Dustin started when the gate didn’t open.

“It’s not an IPhone dude, it doesn’t care who you are.” you grumbled while he continued.

“A what?” Jonathan questioned while you shook your head and put your hands on your hips and started to bounce your right foot out of anxiety, impatience and irritation, for a second your brought it up and kicked the back of Dustin’s ankle, earning a loud “Ow!”

You heard the gate, and looked up at it, seeing it slowly begin to open. “Hey! I got it!” Dustin laughed while you and Jonathan pushed past him and out towards the car.

“You stay here.” Jonathan told you, opening the driver’s door, looking back at you.

“Are you insane? I’m coming with you!” You told him as Nancy went to the passenger side.

Jonathan shook his head. “If something bad happened I don’t want you to see it, you stay here.” He told you. Joyce told you that if it came down to it, Jonathan was incharge of you even though right now, biologically he was only a year older than you, and you were both equally responsible. “Steve, make sure she stays here.” He told the oldest male who nodded and walked over, trying to grab your arm, but you swatted his hand away.

“Don’t put your responsibility on him! I’m going!” You told him.

“It’s dangerous!”

“I don’t care!”

“You could get hurt!”

“Y/n, he’s right, I don’t feel-” Steve tried.

“I don’t care if I get hurt, we’re family Jonathan, we protect each other!”

Everyone went quiet, and you finally realized what you’d said, and even you went quiet, your brows now resting normally on your face while Nancy looked at you, wide eyes and then looked at Steve. “Keep her here.”

• • •

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orbemnews · 3 years

Link

How today's kids 'profile' potential mass shooters -- and why it's reason for hope But Monday’s news out of Boulder — that 10 people were fatally shot in a grocery store — makes that good stuff harder to see. Especially when another shooting took place less than a week ago in Atlanta, killing eight people, six of whom were Asian. There have been seven US mass shootings in the past seven days. For American kids, the incidents are all too familiar. “I’m horrified to tell you I feel nothing,” a Chicago-area teen client told me Monday night after the Boulder shooting. “This kind of trauma feels so normal. Of course, we experience mass shootings again once we see the light at the end of Covid, and we are just cleaning up after an insurrection at the Capitol. Clearly, we are broken.” What happens to us when trauma like this becomes normal? What happens when, like my client, we feel nothing when we hear about a mass shooting? What happens to our children when a report of a mass shooting seems as common as a weather report? ‘Profiling’ one another I’m fortunate to be a therapist working with young people, many of them teenagers. And teenagers today are thoughtful, hopeful problem-solvers. I trust their sensibilities. I also have the luxury of asking these kids what they think of these events. They tell me we can make the mistake of focusing on the shooter and his motive in the moment, as we tend to do after each of these events. “He was a quiet guy. Kept to himself.” But most of my young clientele would suggest we are missing the broader point. We are not thinking “upstream” enough. They tell me they know the kids in their schools, right now, who might be the future shooter. Those kids are expressing hate and rage; full of self-loathing; or fearing the world, women or those different from themselves. They unwittingly profile these kids. I began my career in psychology in Chicago in 1999. It was in the wake of the shootings at Columbine High School, located a 40-mile drive from Boulder. We collectively thought we were profiling potential shooters among young people as well, by seeking out those who expressed an intent to kill, had access to firearms in the home or wore trench coats. But many teenagers today instead seek out those kids who are disenfranchised, bullied or marginalized. They befriend them. The teens I know befriend these kids, and often make sure no child is left behind. They are tired of our failures to solve a problem that seems to affect schools more than any other spaces, and recognize on their way to class that they are quickly returning to the scenes of potential future crimes. They refuse to ignore our collective, violent reality. We can arm every public space, and create a paramilitary society, thinking that a good guy with a gun is the only thing that will stop a bad guy with a gun. But that, kids tell me, is the lazy argument. We are not just dealing with bad guys, but sad guys, hurt guys, guys who haven’t been taught to handle their feelings. Making connections as prevention As it turns out, the kids are better profilers than we are. Their thinking may very well fail to prevent the next mass shooting. Or the one following the next one. But they are onto something. Forging a connection, they know as teenagers, is an inoculation from this type of violence. Connection is prevention. So, if we are counting, at least in part, on our kids playing a significant role in changing this trend, it behooves us to listen to them. Here’s how to get the conversation started. Be honest with them. At most any age, our kids have access to so much data. They will assume a situation is even worse than they had imagined if we are not fully honest about the facts of a situation like this, as much as we know them. Ease their fears. We want to be sure we are not fostering anxiety about going to school beyond the pandemic. More and more, our kids are heading into the classroom, so point out that there are people working on ensuring their safety every day. They have enough variables to focus on in the school building. Fearing for their safety should not have to be among them. Solicit their thoughts. Kids want to be heard in situations like this and are traumatized by the news much as we are. They fare better emotionally when they are fully heard and allowed to express their thoughts and feelings. And, as noted above, your kids may very well have solutions in mind rooted in connection. Source link Orbem News #Health #Hope #Kids #mass #Massshootingsolutions:Whyyoushouldlistentowhatkidshavetosay-CNN #Potential #Profile #Reason #shooters #Todays

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randomfandomimagine · 7 years

Text

Time Bomb (Stiles x Reader)

Character: Stiles Stilinski

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader, Songfic, Angst

Title: Time Bomb

Requested by @jakefromstatefarm143:

Can you do a stiles or scott from teen wolf image based on the song Time bomb by all time low? Also love your stories :)

A/N: I remember seeing All Time Low posters on Stiles’ room, so I thought this request was so much better for him. Enjoy, you guys! :D

WARNING: Kinda angsty.

Even Scott, our best friend, still couldn’t believe it was working out between Stiles and me. We were very different, that was for sure, but we were still dating.

Sometimes, opposites attract and others they clash. It seemed like we were getting a bit of each, because we had our ups and our downs.

However, lately it was nothing but downs. Every single thing we did seemed to bother the other, and no matter how much we tried to get over it or hide it, we were upset.

I sighed as I walked into my room, glad that the tiring school day was over. I couldn’t take Stiles out of my mind, for better or worse, so I wanted to distract myself because I knew it would definitely be worse if I started overthinking.

I was scared that, if I gave it too much importance, I would regret dating him. Because I really loved him, I needed to have him by my side even if our relationship was so unstable.

Even if our romance felt like a bomb about to explode, despite our many arguments it still felt like any time we could have a huge argument in which we would snap and break up, ending it in hating the other.

Telling myself that I just needed a small break for him, I threw my bag on the floor and stretched my neck in an attempt to rid my muscles from the lingering tension within them.

“Surprise!” A voice cheerfully exclaimed behind me, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

“Stiles!” I squeaked, turning around to look at him. “What are you doing here?!”

He had actually sneaked into my room and nearly gave me a freaking heart attack trying to be all cute to surprise me.

“I…” For a moment, my boyfriend was flustered by my annoyed rejection. “I just wanted to see you again, I didn’t want to leave things like that”

Of course, we had argued in class. Lately he was a little clingy, he insisted on following me around all the time.

Scott told me that he was just worried that something could happen to me, taking in consideration all the things they had gone through in the supernatural beacon we lived in. But my train of thought always led me to the conclusion that we were in a time of peace in which nothing was going to attack us for a change and Stiles was getting paranoid.

To which Scott always responded with ‘exactly’. I never quite caught what he meant with that, but I let it go.

“So you sneak into my bedroom and give me a freaking heart attack?!”

“C’mon” He told me playfully, poking my sides with his fingers. “Don’t be so grumpy!”

“Ow, stop!” Instead of tickling me, he had been painfully digging them in my skin. “You’re hurting me!”

“You’re so sensitive!” Stiles whined, tiredly plopping down on my bed.

“Sorry if your bony fingers were hurting my ribs” I bitterly replied, starting to get changed into my pijamas.

I absently thought about the fact that we were really close. Neither of us had any problem in things like that, which were so simple and natural to us, but so huge for others.

We were intimate, we were very close, and getting changed in front of the other was no big deal. Just like they weren’t many of the things we did together.

Yet there we were, constantly arguing despite our undeniable attraction and connection. I guessed that opposites clash more than they attract each other.

“I mean lately, about everything” When I looked at him over my shoulder, I noticed he seemed tense.

Obviously, none of us actually enjoyed being so sulky all the time. It broke our hearts a little every time we argued.

And Stiles was looking down with sad eyes, playing with his hands in a nervous and pitiful gesture.

I finished getting changed and heaved a sigh as I sat next to him. I was tired of colliding with him and wanted to settle our differences, because we loved each other too much.

“We need to do something, we can’t keep this up” I hoped my words didn’t hurt his feelings, but I needed to get it off my chest. “I just can’t take it anymore”

Our relationship, which started blissfully and filled with happiness and cheesiness, had evolved into a burden. We weren’t a couple anymore, we were… I didn’t even know what we were anymore, despite the fact that we were supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Okay, let’s forget about it” My boyfriend wrapped his arms around me and kissed me in the cheek, which I usually would have melted right into. But I found myself being annoyed with it, probably because he was all over me all the time.

I just grimaced in displease and softly pushed him away. I heard a sarcastic chuckle of outrage coming from him, feeling his eyes glaring at me with intensity.

“Okay, why are you so pissed?” Judging by his tone, he was getting seriously annoyed as well.

“I try to shrug it off, I really do” I cringed at the thought of everything he was doing without even realizing. “But you make me so mad, you just keep doing it!”

“Doing what?!”

“That! You keep doing it! Offending my friends when they get too close to me! Pushing people away when they try to approach me!”

“Excuse me for being caring and protective of my freaking girlfriend!”

“That’s not being protective, Stiles! That’s being controlling!”

Stiles sat up so quickly and so angrily that I jumped back a little, surprised. That was it, that was the moment when everything exploded.

The moment I had been fearing would come and in which we started saying things we didn’t mean, in which we offended each other and broke up. In which we started hating each other.

I could see it in his eyes, in those eyes that were usually so filled with sweetness and love when they looked at me. Now they were filled with a blind anger that almost scared me, such a negative and ugly emotion that was never supposed to reach my Stiles.

My own eyes were filled with tears in anticipation, knowing what was coming next. Luckily, that sight seemed to calm Stiles as he sighed to control himself and lowered his tone.

None of us had realized we had been screaming violently up until it got quiet. Until Stiles spoke up and he consciously lowered his tone almost to a whisper to make up for the shouting.

“I don’t think you realize all the… fucked up things that happen here in Beacon Hills, Y/N” He mumbled, looking hurt and offended. “You don’t understand, do you?”

“I don’t? Even though I lived some of them?” His accusations caused a pang of betrayal in my chest, like he was demeaning all the pain and suffering I had gone through.

“Even then, you don’t” By the way he shook his head, I was convinced.

I had arrived in Beacon Hills long after Scott was bit by a werewolf. Stiles and the pack had gone through so much, things that they wouldn’t tell me, things that were too painful and horrible to relive.

I was aware of that, but I never realized they were that bad. I only did when I read the horror in his caramel eyes as he thought back to them.

“I do, but you don’t trust me!” It didn’t change anything, though. It didn’t change the fact that Stiles was smothering me. “Why can’t you trust me, Stiles?!”

“It’s not you I don’t trust, Y/N! It’s everyone else!” Furious, he averted his glance from me. “I can’t trust anyone… Scott already trusts everyone without thinking twice, and I can’t go around trusting anyone but you guys”

I finally understood what Scott meant when he bitterly agreed to my statements with a simple ‘exactly’. Nothing had happened in a long time, things were calm and nothing evil had tried to kill us for a while. That was nice, it was enough for me.

But it wasn’t enough for Stiles.

He was getting paranoid, he was getting afraid. He was terrified that, right when we lowered our guards, it would strike again. That, as soon as we trusted someone, things would get bad again.

Stiles was basically the only one that kept us safer when we were safe. The only one that made sure that the truce wasn’t broken, that we didn’t trust someone we shouldn’t. He kept the guard up when we all didn’t.

That must have been exhausting. No wonder he wouldn’t leave my side, not only to protect me – he needed the affection.

“You just want to protect us” I mumbled, feeling stupid once I understood. “Because you love us too much”

“And you just push me away all the time” His glance still wouldn’t meet me as he showed me a sad and forced grin. “You remind me of that All Time Low song”

His flat voice was making my heart ache, so I stood up and took a few steps until I stopped right in front of him. Mere inches away from the other, our bodies almost gracing.

“What song?”

“Time Bomb… You know, because our relationship feels like it’s about to explode”

“That’s what we were, a time bomb” It was the perfect way to describe our relationship. “Let’s defuse it then”

Stiles looked up right when the smirk arrived to my lips, and a goofy grin crept to his own lips.

“This is not healthy... Just tell me if I do something that upsets you, okay?” He tenderly kissed me in the forehead, his arms holding me close to him. “But… you know… all within measure”

“Can’t promise it, Stilinski” I joked, sighing in relief once I felt the weight being lifted, the burden disappearing. “But you need to talk to me too”

“Just stop being so grumpy all the time” He cutely booped my nose with his. “If I wanted a sourwolf, I’d call Derek”

The unexpected comment made me laugh out loud, which caused a warm and cozy feeling to engulf me whole. It had been a long time since Stiles made me laugh.

It felt nice to be in that playful mood with him again, I had missed it. I guessed we got carried away by the feeling of dread, by the anguish that living in Beacon Hills and being dragged into all its craziness gave us.

“Is that it? You like Derek then, don’t you?” I humored him, making him laugh as well.

His chest convulsed with laughter as he lovingly squeezed me.

We got silent after that, but it was a calm and peaceful silence, a comfortable one in which we treasured the magic of the moment. The calm after the storm.

“Thanks for understanding, Stiles, and sorry for everything” I piped up, needing to tell him.

“You too” With sweet hands, he guided my head until it rested against his chest and then leaned his chin on top of my crown. “I’m not gonna let you go”

I hugged him tight, embraced by the arms that were giving me that sense of peace and safety again.

#imagine #oneshot #requested #reader insert #stiles #stiles imagine #stiles oneshot #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski oneshot #tw #tw imagine #tw oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf oneshot #songfic

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dipulb3 · 3 years

Text

How today's kids 'profile' potential mass shooters -- and why it's reason for hope

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/how-todays-kids-profile-potential-mass-shooters-and-why-its-reason-for-hope/

How today's kids 'profile' potential mass shooters -- and why it's reason for hope

But Monday’s news out of Boulder — that 10 people were fatally shot in a grocery store — makes that good stuff harder to see. Especially when another shooting took place less than a week ago in Atlanta, killing eight people, six of whom were Asian.

There have been seven US mass shootings in the past seven days. For American kids, the incidents are all too familiar.

“I’m horrified to tell you I feel nothing,” a Chicago-area teen client told me Monday night after the Boulder shooting. “This kind of trauma feels so normal. Of course, we experience mass shootings again once we see the light at the end of Covid, and we are just cleaning up after an insurrection at the Capitol. Clearly, we are broken.”

What happens to us when trauma like this becomes normal? What happens when, like my client, we feel nothing when we hear about a mass shooting? What happens to our children when a report of a mass shooting seems as common as a weather report?

‘Profiling’ one another

I’m fortunate to be a therapist working with young people, many of them teenagers. And teenagers today are thoughtful, hopeful problem-solvers. I trust their sensibilities.

I also have the luxury of asking these kids what they think of these events. They tell me we can make the mistake of focusing on the shooter and his motive in the moment, as we tend to do after each of these events. “He was a quiet guy. Kept to himself.”

But most of my young clientele would suggest we are missing the broader point. We are not thinking “upstream” enough. They tell me they know the kids in their schools, right now, who might be the future shooter. Those kids are expressing hate and rage; full of self-loathing; or fearing the world, women or those different from themselves.

They unwittingly profile these kids.

I began my career in psychology in Chicago in 1999. It was in the wake of the shootings at Columbine High School, located a 40-mile drive from Boulder. We collectively thought we were profiling potential shooters among young people as well, by seeking out those who expressed an intent to kill, had access to firearms in the home or wore trench coats.

But many teenagers today instead seek out those kids who are disenfranchised, bullied or marginalized. They befriend them. The teens I know befriend these kids, and often make sure no child is left behind. They are tired of our failures to solve a problem that seems to affect schools more than any other spaces, and recognize on their way to class that they are quickly returning to the scenes of potential future crimes. They refuse to ignore our collective, violent reality.

We can arm every public space, and create a paramilitary society, thinking that a good guy with a gun is the only thing that will stop a bad guy with a gun.

But that, kids tell me, is the lazy argument. We are not just dealing with bad guys, but sad guys, hurt guys, guys who haven’t been taught to handle their feelings.

Making connections as prevention

As it turns out, the kids are better profilers than we are. Their thinking may very well fail to prevent the next mass shooting. Or the one following the next one.

But they are onto something. Forging a connection, they know as teenagers, is an inoculation from this type of violence. Connection is prevention.

So, if we are counting, at least in part, on our kids playing a significant role in changing this trend, it behooves us to listen to them. Here’s how to get the conversation started.

Be honest with them. At most any age, our kids have access to so much data. They will assume a situation is even worse than they had imagined if we are not fully honest about the facts of a situation like this, as much as we know them.

Ease their fears. We want to be sure we are not fostering anxiety about going to school beyond the pandemic. More and more, our kids are heading into the classroom, so point out that there are people working on ensuring their safety every day. They have enough variables to focus on in the school building. Fearing for their safety should not have to be among them.

Solicit their thoughts. Kids want to be heard in situations like this and are traumatized by the news much as we are. They fare better emotionally when they are fully heard and allowed to express their thoughts and feelings. And, as noted above, your kids may very well have solutions in mind rooted in connection.

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