#they don’t understand the feeling of losing your mom and best friend on your 16th bday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thisnoodlewritesao3 · 3 years

Note

AAA HI IM HERE FOR THE LATE EVENT😙😙 COULD PLS HAVE KAGEYAMA + WITH THE AU WHERE "Everyone is born with a unique number only they and their soulmates have" + ANGST TO FLUFF PLS 🥺🥺 THAK YOU FOR LETTING ME DO THIS LATE I APPRECIATE YOU AND LOVE YOU MWAH HAVE A GOOD DAY DARLING

Okay, so, I sort of went on a wild one with this one. And I hope you like this because ya know, it is definitely angst and there is some fluff, but it was getting so long and it’s already like nearly 2k words i think. lemme check. yeah, 1.7k words. omg. i did love this little story i made so i hope you do skjfhdskjfhsdfsdkf

----

Life, for you, was perfect.

In a world of soulmates, you were one of the lucky few that had actually managed to meet your destined other half.

You met Fujinaga Souta when you were 8 years old - barely a second year in elementary school - you’d transferred to his school a few weeks into the year, when friend groups had been established and you were left to try and find a place where you could be.

It wasn’t like you were sitting in the seat next to him, and he picked up a pen you’d drop on the ground. It actually wouldn’t be until you were 10 years old that you’d ever talk to him.

Because Fujinaga Souta felt like he was a thousand miles ahead of you, so close yet so out of reach in everything he did. He played volleyball so beautifully, setting with ease and wonder that you couldn’t help but be captivated by him. You had a crush with a boy who didn’t know you existed, and back then it felt okay, because you could always imagine what it felt like to hold hands with him. When his blue eyes found yours, you’d melt, and feel the warm spread to your cheeks before turning away. Black hair that dangled in front of his eyes.

A small group - including him and you - were talking one day, and he started complaining about the way his hair fell in front of his eyes. Being the person you were, you offered a clip to keep it out of his eyes. Being the person he is, he accepted.

It was at that moment he finally paid attention to the numbers that traced along your jaw. 539268. The ones that matched his own perfectly. He almost screamed, pushing your head to the side so he could get a closer look and ensure he wasn’t reading it wrong (you’d complain later in life that this is where your neck problems came from, but you both knew it was from your posture). After he was done pointing and rambling, he pulled down his sock to reveal the numbers on his ankle. 539268.

You almost fainted. It was strange. Your friends exclaimed how lucky you were - because he was a popular boy, loved by so many.

You were 11 when you found out he was your soulmate.

When you told your mother, she immediately set up a celebration; you couldn’t have been more embarrassed, but Souta made it feel like the most normal thing in the world.

Souta was your world. That’s why when he started to get sick, you were by his side as often as you could be. Each day at school would be filled with messages you’d send to him about things you would do when he got out of the hospital.

Only he never got out of the hospital.

On February 16th, 2012, Souta passed away.

Ripped from your arms before you’d gotten a chance to live.

You spent so many months locked away in your room, crying and screaming from the physical pain losing him had caused you. Your only solace was the pile of shirts his mother had let you have because she recognised how painful it was to lose someone who would be the one to know you better than you knew yourself.

The first time you visited his grave made your soul weaker and you could only cry as you clawed at the dirt.

The first day at your high school - which you started months later than most - was like hell. Everyone had heard of you, of the girl who lost her soulmate. They offered empty condolences that you had to pretend made things better.

The first friend you made - a sweet girl named Yachi Hitoka - didn’t pretend she knew what it felt like. In fact, she didn’t even make you talk about Souta at all (for that, you were grateful). She filled up your world with notes and studying, a pleasant distraction from a world outside of your own.

Your friendship with Yachi remained in the classroom, but that was fine by you. She had her own worries and troubles.

A few months in, and you weren’t crying as much anymore. Your heart still yearned for his touch, but you found some love in visiting his grave and telling him about your days, hoping that, by some miracle, he could still hear you.

The first time you see someone that looks so much like him, you’re sure you’re hallucinating that it sends you back into a spiral.

Kageyama Tobio. That was his name. The one you’d silently curse when you saw him in the halls; the one that made you move further away from Yachi when you learnt she’d been tutoring him; the one that looked so much like your soulmate it opened up the tear in your heart.

It wasn’t like you had to interact with him, you didn’t, he wasn’t in your class, wasn’t in your club, you didn’t have anything in common with him. Not until you walked to the vending machine one lunch and stood for too long trying to work out what to get and heard his gruff voice, “can you hurry up?” He grumbled.

You didn’t even take the time to glare over your shoulder before you chose milk, just because it was easier - that, and it was the last carton and something about the blue on it made you think of Souta again. How were you supposed to know that milk just happened to be this boy's favourite drink? You weren’t.

That wasn’t the last run in you would have with Kageyama Tobio - much to your demise - it only got worse through your second and third years, where your visits to Souta’s grave became more filled with anxiety about your future.

It isn’t until one Summer day during your second year that you seem an all too familiar face standing next to Souta’s grave (or the one next to it).

You try your best to ignore Kageyama as you kneel down in front of your soulmate's grave, but his eyes seem to find you immediately. “Do you mind if I talk?” You ask, not looking up at him for fear you might break. He didn’t answer, so you took matters into your own hands.

You talked to Souta about this week. About how you visited his family the day before and how his mom said you were growing to be a lovely young woman. About how you hadn’t cried this week, and you were proud of yourself. You told him that nothing exciting had happened since he was gone, and that the world seemed to lose more colour with each passing day.

You were talking without realising you had someone actually listening.

“Does that help?” He asked without thinking. Maybe he made a mistake, because the light in your eyes seemed to flutter out, but you answered him nonetheless.

“I guess so, although I’m not doing it to help.” You sighed, brushing your fingers over the petals on the flowers placed there by someone. “I’m doing it because I love him, and he deserves to hear this. To talk to me. Ya know?” And he nodded as if he understood - but you knew he didn't.

That was the start of a small arrangement with Kageyama Tobio. Once a week, he’d show up at the graveyard (not just because you were there, but also because that was where his grandfather was buried). You’d both talk to your respective people, and it was nice.

You stopped seeing Kageyama as a wrong version of Souta and started seeing him for himself.

One day, near the end of your third year, you somehow end up arguing with Kageyama. “Yeah, well, you hated me for no reason all throughout my first year.” He bit back at a comment you made and you shoved your hands into your hair gripping the roots (why is the only thing you can think is how your Souta would never act like this).

“I didn’t hate you!” You cried back.

“Then what was it?” He hissed.

You wanted to explode, everything hurt all over again.

“You reminded me of him. Of Souta.” You said, hoping he wouldn’t ask for an explanation.

“But I’m not him, so how?”

That was enough for you to realise that Kageyama had never seen what Souta looked like. He wasn’t aware of the fact that he was the spitting image of your soulmate. So, as you’re rummaging through your bag for a picture you kept on you, you start explaining to him. “Because Souta was sweet, and kind, and considerate, and loving.” You say, and you can tell he’s confused. “And you’re sweet but blind, kind but dense. Not quite as considerate and loving, but you try even when it doesn’t look like you are.” You sigh, ignoring the pang of pain in your heart. “You play volleyball - a setter - and you play it so effortlessly. You remind me of him in every single way without knowing it, but I know it and it hurt me. It still hurts me. Because how am I meant to feel when I look up at you and somehow stopped seeing him and started seeing you?” You ask, though you aren’t really asking him. It’s a general question.

You manage to find the picture and pass it to him. His reaction speaks a thousand words, the way his eyes widen because this boy does look like the spitting image of him and he can see why you were hurt by him.

He explains that he didn’t understand what the big deal about soulmates was until he met you. That the reason he’d never really cared about that was because he was born without a soulmate mark (you traced the numbers on your jaw); he had to be like the many who just had to make their own soulmates, but he’d never even have the option to meet a soulmate. You almost felt ashamed. He told you you didn't need to feel ashamed.

That night, as you sat watching a movie to forget about the argument, you’d experience your first kiss with a boy that wasn’t your soulmate. You didn’t feel any guilt about it. Because you knew Souta would want you to be happy.

You and Kageyama had a rocky friendship; your relationship wasn’t any easier. But you made it work. Because soulmates normally don’t get to meet, but you can make soulmates with enough time and care. And, luckily for you, Kageyama was willing to give all the time in the world to you (as long as you didn't get in the way of volleyball, but you normally didn’t).

----

General Taglist:

@pies-writes-and-more @satan-ruler-of-hells @dekuspet @samkysnks @lucyheartfilias-wife @kaleidoscopekai

If you would like to be added to the taglist, send me a DM or an ask :D

#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #thisnoodlewrites #hq kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #hq x reader #hq writing

89 notes · View notes

not-all-dead · 3 years

Text

angstpril day twenty: the silent treatment

CW: mentions of a breakup but that’s pretty much the worst of it

fic under the cut

November 3rd, 142

Lin,

Mom made me promise I’d write to you, so here’s me doing that. Grandma and Grandpa say hi, and they want you to visit soon. School’s boring as ever and I have no friends here which is just great. Thanks for that. At least they have good food here, the chef is pretty amazing. Still, I think I’m going to run away soon, just for the sake of it. Maybe I’ll find a family actually worth keeping. Anyway, I don’t miss you or mom, have fun arresting people or whatever.

February 7th, 143

Lin,

Heard you’re chief now. Congrats I guess. Does mom finally pay attention to you? Who am I kidding, of course she doesn’t. Anyway, I left Grandma and Grandpa’s. I’m part of this cool travelling circus right now, but I think I’m going to try something new soon. It’s been fun though, lots of flying through the air above lava pits and other super dangerous things. I bet I’m having a better time than you are, stuck in the stupid city.

I call Grandma every week or two to keep her updated on what I’m doing, otherwise she’ll freak out and think I’m dead or something. She told me today that mom called her yesterday. Mom said she was going to Gaoling to drop off her things before travelling wherever just like I’m doing. Guess I have more in common with her than I thought. I also guess that means you’ve got the apartment to yourself now, must be nice.

How’s Tenzin? You two still madly in love? Actually, don’t tell me, I don’t really care. Not that you’re going to respond to this at all. Whatever. I’ve got a performance to get to, so bye.

December 19th, 145

Lin,

I wish you’d write back. I’m much older now, and I’d be happy to talk things out with you if you’d respond. But I guess that’s something you have to want too, and clearly you still hate me, so I won’t count on it.

I know I haven’t written in a while. I was on a pirate ship for a while, learning to sail and such, and we didn’t dock often. Any paper we had on board was constantly damp, too, so I didn’t see the point. After that I live in a sandbender commune. It was really interesting to see how different people lived, especially different earthbenders. I tried learning to sandbend but it didn’t go so well.

But that’s all past now. I’m building a city now, a city entirely of metal. I’ve got this wonderful architect named Baatar helping me with it, and thank goodness I do. I honestly don’t know how I’d execute my plans without him. I think I might ask him to marry me. I mean, I really do like him, and the idea of a family sounds so nice. If I did I’d really like for you to be there.

I hope everything in the city is alright. Last time I spoke to mom, a couple years ago now, she said you were still going steady with Tenzin. I don’t know how you two have stayed together this long already, you always seemed so different from one another to me. I guess opposites really do attract, as they always say. I’ll write again soon.

April 2nd, 146

Lin,

It would mean the world to me if you could make it. Please come if you can, I’d really like to see you again.

March 27th, 147

Lin,

You have a nephew! I was bummed that you didn’t come to the wedding, but it’s alright. Maybe you’d like to come and meet Baatar Jr. sometime this year… we’d welcome you here in Zaofu if you did. We’re still working on building up the outer cities, but the central hub where our house is is fully operational. I’d love to show you how it all works, we have metalbender staff in training to operate practically every part of the city. It’s a busy time, with the new baby and all the construction.

Please tell me you and your airhead of a boyfriend are getting married soon. I mean, come on! It’s been ten years already, I don’t see how you can possibly still be “taking it slow”. You make no sense to me sometimes, Lin. But then again, I’m sure you feel the same about me.

Mom’s been visiting Zaofu pretty regularly. She’s coming in next week to meet Baatar Jr. for the first time. She still seems to be holding a grudge against me. You two really are cut from the same cloth, you know. I might try to talk things out with her when she comes this time, or at least set a time sometime soon for us to flush things over. It would be great if you’d come too so we could put all this family drama nonsense behind us.

May 30th, 150

Lin,

I’m disappointed that you still refuse to answer. Honestly, mom and I have spent two years talking and figuring things out. We’re good now, and there were plenty of opportunities we gave you to join us. I’m sorry you’re still so bitter.

Baatar Jr. is three now, you’d know if you ever cared to visit. He hasn’t shown any signs of bending yet, but Baatar is a non-bender and I started bending late so that’s not too surprising. We’ve got another one on the way, due in a couple weeks actually. I think if it’s a boy we’ll name him Huan, and if it’s a girl probably Hei-Ran. Again, I wish you’d come and actually be a part of my kids’ lives, but you seem dead set against it.

Kya actually dropped by not too long ago. I hadn’t seen her in ages, so it was a nice surprise. She says her travels have been going well, and she’d visited practically every place on the planet! I loved my time travelling, but ultimately family life is what suited me best. She said she was heading back to Republic City soon, so maybe she’ll drop in on you, too. Anyway, hope the triads aren’t causing too too much havoc for you, Chief.

January 16th, 151

Lin,

Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ve given up. If you’re really that set on giving me the cold shoulder, so be it. I’ll stop writing at all.

Sorry you’re not mature enough to handle this like an adult.

If you were wondering, Huan is very healthy and strong. Baatar Jr. too. Baatar Sr. took ill a while back, but he’s alright now.

I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this when I know you don’t care. Well. Sorry I’m such a bother to you.

August 4th, 156

Lin,

Mom told me what happened with you and Tenzin. He’s an asshole, good on you for wrecking the island. You were always too good for him anyway. I know I haven’t written in a long time, I just didn’t see the point if you kept ignoring me. Maybe now you’ll come and see your family, it might be nice after losing Tenzin.

You’ve got a niece, now, too. And four nephews, the youngest being the twins. They’re only just over a year old now, and Opal recently turned three. I tell them stories about their Aunt Lin, you know. The older boys would really like to meet you, and I’m sure Opal and the twins will too when they’re a little bit more grown up. I want to see you again too, Lin, and I wish you’d at least try to let go of the past. Even just a letter back would make my day.

Hope you’re holding up as Chief there, not too much trouble with the triads or whomever else is committing crime these days.

November 7th, 158

Lin,

Baatar Jr. is now eleven, and seems to be quite the budding architect just like his father. Huan has taken up metalbending little sculptures, so for his eighth birthday he got a little studio just for his art. Opal is five now, and growing up fast. I’ve never seen a five year old read as well as she does. Wing and Wei are still just three, but they seem to enjoy throwing pebbles at one another. I think they’ll be strong benders when they're older.

Mom and I finally made up properly. It’s nice to see her with the kids. She said she wrote to you asking you to come and chat too, but you ignored her. No surprises there. I might stop writing again if you keep this up, so don’t act shocked.

October 21st, 160

Lin,

Mom’s here for a few weeks. Opal turned seven this year, Baatar Jr. thirteen, Huan ten, and the twins five. Wing and Wei invented a game for themselves to help with their metalbending training, they call it “power disk”.

I’m not sure what else to say to you anymore. I’m not sure why I’m even writing this now, after eighteen years. Eighteen years, Lin, and you haven’t even bothered to write back. At least I’ve tried to reach out. But now, I’m done. For real this time. Write if you want, I don’t care. I’m not going to keep sending these anymore.

December 6th, 170

Lin,

Are you alright?! Mom had to tell me about you losing your bending, and she only found out through Katara! I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like. All I can say is that it would undoubtedly be awful.

I miss you, you know. It’s been almost thirty years since we last spoke. I know mom misses you too, and my kids would really like to meet their Aunt. It makes me sad that you’re still so sour about what happened, even after so much time has passed. We’ve both grown and changed as people, and I don’t understand why you can’t see that. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it’s only me who’s changed at all. Even so, I do miss you, and I wish you’d write. Or visit.

I hope you’re alright, Lin, I really do.

53 notes · View notes

romeoandjulietyouwish · 4 years

Text

And when you get there is a family waiting for you?

By @romeoandjulietyouwish for @theherothechampiontheinquisitor

Rating: G

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Avengers Team

Summary: On Peter's 16th birthday he receives a letter from his mother that reveals life-changing information.

Ao3 link

Surprise! I’m pinch-hitting for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!

I used prompts 2 (Tony is Peter’s biological father) and 3 (Tony gets hurt protecting Peter)

Tag list: @justrepostandlove @gasplaughgasp @canonismybitch @shadedrose01 @baloobird @whatisawilltolive @a-liddell-alice @you-know-i-larb-you-3000 @hold-our-destiny @lyssismagical @spideygirl2003 @make-the-stars-stay

Peter’s birthday was never a big deal. Ben and May never had much money to spend on presents, and Peter never had enough friends to warrant a big birthday party. More often than not Peter’s birthdays always ended up with a movie night with either Ned or May (sometimes both) and Ben when he was alive. But this year Peter wants something different, he wants to celebrate with Tony as well.

When he proposed the casual dinner to Tony, he had been expecting a rejection, that Tony would have something better to do than celebrate his intern’s birthday. But Tony had just smiled and asked what time he should be over. Peter grinned and gave Tony a big hug.

That’s something they do now, hug. Peter was nervous about it at first, not wanting to pressure the man into affection when he clearly didn’t want it. But something changed after the building fell on him, Tony started inviting him around to the lab more and actually mentoring him. And Peter almost feels that Tony has taken on a parental role in his life, not that he would ever tell Tony that. Nonetheless, Peter has grown to care for the man, and he knows Tony feels the same about him.

The doorbell rings promptly at six. Peter bounds from the kitchen where he had been supervising May’s cooking. He flings the door open with a wide smile, Tony has a similar one when he sees Peter. Tony is wearing a worn t-shirt and scuffed up jeans, looking nothing at all like the man Peter sees in the press.

Tony pulls Peter into a quick hug, “Happy birthday, kid.”

Peter smiles, “Thank you!” He looks down at the bag of presents next to the man’s feet and sees it overflowing with brightly wrapped boxes and bags. “You didn’t have to…”

Tony waves him off and walks into the apartment, “Nonsense. It’s not every day you turn sixteen.” After dropping the presents on the coffee table, Tony walks into the kitchen, Peter following behind him, hopping up to sit on the counter while May finishes cooking. Tony kisses May’s cheek and tells her that dinner smells wonderful earning a smile from her.

After dinner, more edible than Peter had been expecting, May leads the boys into the living room, sitting Peter before the pile of presents on the coffee table. Peter blushes, bashful at the attention and the amount of money spent on him.

“You guys really didn’t have to,” Peter tries to say, but once again the adults wave him off, Tony pushing a present into his hands.

“Open that one first.”

Peter gives his mentor a questioning look but tears open the blue wrapping around a small box. The paper discarded, he carefully opens the box revealing a watch, a very fancy watch, or so Peter assumes.

“This needs a little explanation,” Tony says. “This watch is more of a gift for May and me than for you. It will tell us your vitals at any given moment and connects directly to our phones and it has a built-in tracker.”

“I like the sound of that,” May laughs, leaning over Peter’s shoulder to see the watch.

Peter glares at them, “I don’t like you two being friends, you keep ganging up against me.”

Tony chuckles, “It’s because we care about you, Spider-baby.” Peter rolls his eyes at the nickname, batting Tony’s hand away when he tries to ruffle it.

“Here,” May hands him a bigger box. “This is from me.” Peter curiously tears open the wrapping paper. His mouth drops wide open when he sees what’s inside.

“May, how did you find this?” He looks up at his aunt, eyes wide with excitement.

“I have my sources,” May says mysteriously.

Tony looks over, “Uh, what is it exactly?”

Peter gapes at Tony, “One of the rarest Star Wars Lego sets in existence! They only made like fifty of these! Oh my gosh, I can’t wait to tell Ned!” Tony and May share a fond smile over the boy’s head.

Half an hour later all of the presents are unwrapped and the living room is covered with wrapping and tissue paper. As Tony and Peter shove the paper into garbage bags, May disappears into her bedroom, only to return with an envelope in her hands.

May takes a deep breath, holding a letter to her chest, “Peter. I have something else for you.”

Peter frowns, sitting back on the couch, “You already gave me my gifts.”

She shakes her head, “No, Peter, this isn’t from me. It’s from your mother.”

“Really?” Peter’s eyes bug out.

May nods and hands him the letter, “I have no idea what it says, but it was part of her will that I was supposed to give it to you when you turned sixteen.”

Peter runs his fingers over the back, feeling the soft parchment. His name is printed neatly on the back with a small smiley face. Peter smiles softly. He takes a deep breath and breaks the seal, pulling out a letter in his mother’s handwriting.

Dear Peter,

Happy sixteenth birthday! If you are receiving this letter, that means your father and I didn’t make it to your sixteenth birthday. I’m sorry, Peter. Know that your father and I love you very very much and even though we are gone we are still with you, looking out for you.

At the time I am writing this, you have just passed your third birthday. You are such a curious child and you look at the world as if it is one big question you don’t understand. I hope you never lose that spark. You’re going to be a great leader someday, I can tell. But no matter what you choose to do with your life, your father and I will always be so proud of you.

I wanted to write this letter years in advance, just in case something happened to me or your father before we could tell you in person. Peter, no one knows what I am about to tell you, the only people who know are your dad and I.

Peter, Richard Parker is not your biological father. Anthony Stark is.

I know you’re probably upset by this news and rightfully so. I kept this secret from you your entire life. But I want you to know that Tony is a good man, despite what the media wants you to believe. He doesn’t know you exist, I didn’t tell him. I wanted this to be up to you, whether or not you want to include him in your life.

I love you, Peter. Don’t ever forget that.

With all the love in the world,

Mom

By the time Peter is done reading, his vision is obscured by tears. He gasps for breath, holding the letter tight to his chest. Could it really be true?

“Peter?” Tony squeezes his leg and Peter whips to look at him. “What’s going on, buddy?” Peter finds it impossible to look Tony in the eyes. Tony is his...father. Peter just shakes his head and pushes Tony away from him, pretending not to see the hurt look in the man’s eyes.

“Oh my god,” Peter says to himself. The two adults watch him nervously as he cries, reading over the letter again, maybe he read it wrong. He didn’t. Tony is his father.

“Peter, honey?” May kneels in front of him. “Are you okay?”

Peter shakily offers May the letter, she bypasses it and gives Peter a tight hug, letting him cry into her shoulder for a few seconds. May pulls back just enough to kiss Peter’s forehead. Peter pushes out of her embrace.

“Read this...please,” Peter forces the letter into her hand. She frowns at him, but nods, looking down at the page.

Peter stands slowly as May sits down on the couch. “I’m sorry,” he tells Tony before he bolts out of the living room and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Peter throws himself onto his bed, sobbing heavily into his pillows. Tony is his father.

Does that mean his mother cheated on his- Richard? Did May really not know? Did Tony really not know? Did Richard even love him? Or was Peter just a child he was forced into loving?

What is Tony going to think?

Does Tony want to be a dad? Is this going to destroy their relationship?

Questions keep rolling into Peter’s mind, he can’t seem to stop them. Nothing makes sense anymore. He feels as though his whole life has been knocked over with a gust of wind. Peter doesn’t know how long he sobs into his pillows, but eventually, the tears subside, and Peter curls into a ball, pulling his blankets over his head.

“Peter?” May knocks her knuckles lightly on the door. “Can I come in, sweetie?”

“It’s open,” Peter tells her.

He hears the door creak open and May’s feet padding across the carpet. May sits on the edge of his bed, “Tony’s gone. He thought it would be best to let us talk.”

“Did you tell him what’s going on?” Peter asks, his voice muffled from under his blankets.

“I didn’t,” May rubs his arm. “I figured that decision should be up to you when you’re ready.”

May lets silence fall between then, waiting for Peter to talk. Peter takes a deep breath and sits up, the blankets falling around his waist.

“Did my dad, Richard, love me?” Peter asks, his voice small.

“Oh, sweetheart,” May lifts Peter into her arms, letting herself bear his weight. “He loved you so much. He used to carry a picture of you in his wallet and whenever he felt stressed or anxious he would take it out and look at it for a few seconds, it always made him smile. I asked him about it once and he just smiled and said that he could never be sad or anxious or stressed when he saw your face. He loved you more than anything in the world, Peter.”

“Really?” Peter sniffs, looking up at his aunt with teary eyes.

May touches his cheek and nods, “If there was ever a man destined to be a father, it was Richard Parker.”

Peter hugs his aunt tightly then pulls back and looks at his aunt, struck with a sudden realization, “Wait...does that mean we’re not related? Because if Ben and my dad were brothers but Tony is my dad, then we’re not-”

May pulls him into a tight hug, “Shh… That doesn’t matter, Peter. You should know by now that family is so much more than blood. We make our own families. And if our family is a teenage boy and his weirdo aunt,” Peter laughs, “that’s okay. It doesn’t matter if we’re related, sweetheart, because I love you no matter what. Okay?”

Peter nods, “Is it okay...if I want Tony to be part of our family?”

May smiles and cups his cheeks, “Of course it is. Is that what you want?” Peter nods. “Then why don’t you call him and ask him to come back over tomorrow so we can tell him everything okay? You and me together.”

Peter nods again, giving May one more tight hug before she kisses his head, “Get some sleep, honey,” and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Peter takes a deep breath and grabs his phone. He quickly mops up his tears before pressing the button to call Tony.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony answers on the first ring. “You okay?”

“Um, I think so. I’m sorry about tonight, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” Peter tugs at a string on his pillowcase.

“It’s okay,” Tony says easily. “I still had a nice time tonight.”

“Would you be able to come by the apartment tomorrow? I-I need to talk to you.” Peter asks.

“Sure thing, is everything alright? You seemed kind of upset.”

Peter looks down, “I, uh, I got some really really big news in the letter my mom wrote me.”

“Okay, kid. I- shit!” Tony exclaims. All of a sudden Peter hears running feet. “How soon can you swing to Brooklyn?”

“I can be there in like...eight minutes. What’s going on?” Peter is already tugging on his suit.

“We don’t know, but it’s something big. We need all hands on deck.” Peter knows he means it. There is no chance in hell that Tony would let him tackle an Avengers level threat, especially after he broke down in front of the man, unless it was serious.

“I’m on my way,” Peter says quickly. “See you soon.” He hangs up and tugs on his mask, having Karen message his aunt as he leaps out the window. He swings to Brooklyn quickly, seeing flashes of yellow and green light in the distance.

“Hey, guys!” Peter lands on a rooftop, watching as the Avengers jump into action against what seems to be three wizards. “Where can I help?”

“Stay up high,” Steve commands. “Get any civilians out if you can, keep the area clear for us. Got it?”

“Got it!” Peter swings into action.

“If you feel too over your head, you tap out, okay?” Tony asks. “No one will judge you if you do.”

“Okay,” Peter agrees, though he knows he won’t. Tony asked him to be here, so here he’s going to be. Peter imagines himself tucking all of his feelings into a box, he doesn’t need to be distracted by his family drama right now. He then closes the box, wraps it in duct tape, and locks it in a vault in the back corner of his mind.

Peter swings through the streets, shouting down to civilians that they need to clear the streets. The wizards above him drag cars and signs and trash cans from the street, hurling them at the Avengers. It’s only Peter’s spider-sense that keeps him from getting hit by falling debris as he rushes to get people inside.

Peter snags a little girl around her waist and quickly shoves her into her mother’s waiting arms as a truck falls right where she had just been standing. “Get inside!” Peter tells her as he rushes to save someone else.

“Peter!” Tony shouts. “Watch your six!”

Peter turns around just in time to see the building behind him starting to collapse. He’s going to get crushed if he doesn’t get out of the way. He knows he can run fast, but probably not fast enough to be unscathed by the building. Peter is just about to try to run for it, when something slams into his side, shoving him clear out of the way by several feet. Peter jumps to his feet and looks to see who saved him. But all he can see is a flash of red and gold as the build collapses down.

“Tony!” Peter shrieks. He runs toward the fallen building, scrambling up the rubble. All he can see are bricks and dust. Panicked, Peter starts clawing at the bricks. He has to save Tony. Then someone grabs him around the waist, pulling him away. “No!” Peter tries to fight the person holding him, but they just hold tighter. He needs to help Tony.

“Calm down,” Steve tells him. “I’ve got you.” He crushes Peter to his chest, holding the boy in place as he tries to claw out of his grip.

“I need to get Tony!” Peter shouts.

“We’re going to get him out,” Steve promises. “Let us handle it.”

“No! I didn’t tell him yet!” Peter doesn’t know if his vision is clouded from the dust of the tears building in his eyes. “He doesn’t-” Peter gasps for air, but it comes out as a tight wheeze, “-He doesn’t know yet. I have to tell him. He needs to know! He can’t die!”

“Peter,” Steve says calmly. “I need you to take a deep breath or you’re going to pass out, okay? Can you take a deep breath?” Peter shakes his head, he is honestly trying, but he can’t get his lungs to move any slower and take in any air. He clutches Steve’s uniform and falls into the soldier’s arms, his vision starts to go spotty. Distantly, Peter can hear someone telling him to breathe, but Peter just snaps into the blackness.

---

Peter wakes to fluorescent lights above him. He blinks slowly, adjusting to the harsh light. A soft noise comes from his throat as he digs his fingers into the bed under him, trying to adjust to his surroundings.

“Take it easy,” someone puts a hand on his chest and gently pushes him back into the bed as he tries to sit up. Peter looks to his left and finds Steve sitting in a chair beside him. That’s when it all comes crashing back down on Peter.

The letter, the battle, the building falling and crushing Tony.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Steve says quickly, realizing that Peter is starting to panic again. He sits down on the edge of Peter’s bed and takes Peter’s hands in his. “Everything is okay. We’re in the tower, Tony is alive.”

Peter searches Steve’s face for any trace of a lie, he saw the building crush Tony.

“Tony’s alive?” Peter asks slowly.

Steve nods, “We can go see him if you want. Bruce already cleared you.”

Peter nods and lets Steve help him out of bed. Once standing he finds he is no longer wearing his Spiderman suit, someone has dressed him in soft grey sweatpants and one of Tony’s old t-shirts that Peter had long since stolen from him.

Steve keeps an arm around Peter’s shoulders as they walk down the hallway. When they arrive at a door that Peter assumes is Tony’s, Steve asks him, “Do you want me to go in with you?”

“Can I be alone with him?” Peter asks, his voice small.

Steve nods, “Call if you need anything okay?”

Opening the door, Peter finds Bruce checking over Tony, making notes on his clipboard. At the sound of the door opening and shutting behind him, Bruce turns, smiling when he sees Peter. “How are you feeling?” Bruce asks.

Peter shrugs, “I feel fine. Is Tony okay?”

“Yeah,” Bruce smiles. “Thankfully the suit managed to protect most of him so there’s not as much damage as we were anticipating, a few cracked ribs, a broken ankle, and a concussion. He’ll be fine in a week or so.”

Peter lets out a sigh of relief. Tony really is okay. He’s going to be able to tell Tony that he is his son. He hasn’t lost another father figure. But before he tells Tony there's something he needs.

“Bruce?” The scientist looks up at Peter. “Um, you have my and Tony’s DNA on file right?” Bruce frowns in confusion, but nods. “Do you think you could run a paternity test before he wakes up?”

“You think that he…” Bruce’s eyes are wide as he comprehends what Peter is asking.

“Please, don’t tell anyone,” Peter begs. “I don’t want to tell Tony unless it’s absolutely true.”

Bruce nods and smiles at him, “It’ll be done as soon as possible.” As Bruce leaves he squeezes Peter’s shoulder reassuringly. It makes Peter feel a tiny bit better.

The slow beep of a heart monitor fills the room, ordinarily, it would hurt Peter’s head, but now it serves as a needed reminder that Tony is alive. Tony himself looks far worse for the wear. His face is bruised and cut all over and based on what Peter can see of the man’s body, the rest of him is the same.

Peter sinks into the chair beside the bed and takes Tony’s hand in his own. He doesn’t say anything, he just fights the building tears. He almost lost Tony, Tony would have died protecting him. Peter would never have been able to forgive himself if Tony died. Why does Peter deserve to live any more than Tony?

He doesn’t know the answer to the question.

Peter just sits there thinking. In his mind he imagines himself telling Tony that he’s his son. Tony reacts a different way every time, sometimes he shoves Peter away and tells him to go away, sometimes he smiles and hugs him, sometimes Tony freezes and Peter watches Tony’s hardened mask pull over his face.

Of all of them, that’s the one Peter hates the most, that he could become a stranger to Tony, someone he feels the need to wear a fake smile and false cockiness around. As Peter thinks, he feels his eyes grow heavy. Peter lays his head down on the soft bed and lets his eyes slip closed.

Peter wakes up to someone running their hand through his hair. Peter nudges the hand, trying to get closer, eliciting a deep chuckle from someone above him. Peter slowly lifts his head, Tony is awake. Before the man can say anything, Peter hugs him tightly, pressing his head into Tony’s chest.

Tony grunts in pain at the impact of the hug. “I’m sorry!” Peter tries to pull away but Tony won’t let him move.

“Just a little bit longer, kid,” Tony says into his hair. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

Peter nods into Tony’s chest, “I’m fine.” He sits up, pulling out of the hug and looks at Tony with sad eyes. “Why did you do that? Why did you push me out of the way? You knew there wouldn’t be enough time for you to get out.”

Tony smiles sadly, “Did you really think I would have stood by and let you be crushed by a building again?”

“Why do you think that my life is more important than yours?” Peter asks.

“Because you’re sixteen, you still have so much life left, I wasn’t about to let you die when I had the ability to save you.” Before Peter knows it, he’s crying. Tony wipes away Peter’s tears, “Hey, what are the tears for? I’m okay, Pete.”

Peter shakes his head, “I-I thought you were dead and you would have died saving me and I can’t-” Peter sobs. “I can’t let you die when you don’t know that you’re my dad and I didn’t tell you and if you had died before I could then I would have already lost my third father and I don’t think I could live through that again.”

Tony is frozen, staring at Peter with a stunned expression, “I-I’m your dad? What do you mean?”

Peter, still shaking, looks down at his hands, “In the letter from-from my mom she told me that you’re my biological dad.” Peter can’t stomach the thought of looking up at Tony’s face, seeing the disgust he must be feeling clear on his face. “I was going to tell you tomorrow. Bruce is running a paternity test right now,” Peter says softly. “I-I’m sorry, I know you don’t want kids and that I’m-”

“Peter,” Tony takes Peter’s hands in his own. “Can you look at me, bud?” Peter slowly brings his gaze up to meet Tony’s eyes. To his surprise, Tony smiles. “I didn’t want kids, but then I met you. You changed everything for me, kid. You made me realize that I can love people without hurting them and that I can be trusted to take care of a child.” Tony reaches up and cups Peter’s cheek, “I would be honored to be your father.”

Peter smiles warmly and leans into the touch as the door opens and Bruce walks in, “Peter, the results are back for the paternity test.” Peter and Tony exchange a hopeful glance and Tony nods to Bruce.

Bruce looks at the weepy pair in front of him and smiles, “It’s a match.” Tony gasps and crushes Peter into a hug, one hand tangled in his hair. Peter feels Tony’s warm tears fall onto his head, he smiles. Tony loves him. Tony wants to be his father. “Congratulations,” Bruce smiles. “I’ll give you boys another moment, and Tony I’ll check on you in a few, okay?”

“Thank you, Bruce,” Tony says over Peter’s head. Peter feels Tony press a kiss to the top of his head and he looks up with a smile. The way Tony looks at him is so... reverent it's almost painful.

"I have a kid," Tony says dreamily. "Oh my god."

"I have a dad," Peter smiles back. He lays his head back down on Tony's shoulder.

"And I'm not going anywhere," Tony promises. "You're going to be stuck with me for a long long time, kiddo."

Peter can't help the smile at the words and nuzzles closer to Tony as the man traps Peter’s head with his hand and kisses the top of his head. “I love you, kid,” Tony whispers.

“I love you too,” Peter responds, his voice just as low. Peter takes a deep breath. Everything is going to be fine.

#my fic #friendly neighborhood exchange #peter parker #tony stark #spiderman #iron man #spiderson #spiderson fic #irondad #irondad fic

113 notes · View notes

lxvesickreality · 4 years

Text

fix you

Request: Bucky x reader just absolute raging angst with the promise of a happy ending? ✨♥️

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of suicide

Word Count: 1866

Add on: song being used is called Fix You by Coldplay

gif is NOT mine, credits to owners

Please do not read if easily triggered by talk of suicide and dark pasts. If you are feeling in that way at all even if you didn’t read this, my inbox is always open and you can private message me anytime.

When you try your best but you don't succeed

When you get what you want but not what you need

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

You never had an easy childhood and you had no role models to look up to as you grew. Your parents got into a fatal car crash on the way to get induced to have you since your mother was almost two weeks past her due date. You almost didn’t make it because your mom was dying quickly. You were born on a street that 12 minutes away from the hospital and you were taken away from your mother the minute you came out. Your parents passed away that night. As you grew up, you were told this story by many social workers that made you jump home to home to live with foster homes. It devastated you and sent you to a dark place.

Many homes you grew up in weren’t very nice to you. When you were 8 years old, you were struck by the male figure in the house for not finishing your peas on your plate. He called you ungrateful, selfish, and even a bitch. You were sent to your room that was as small as a bathroom. Each time your social worker came, they put on a front and wouldn’t let them know you lived in a small room, not in the normal sized bedroom like they said. From 8 years old to 13, you lived in that place until you were able to get on the phone with your social worker to explain what had been going on. You left the next day to a different home. The next couple of years was like that until your 15th birthday. You found a home where they wanted you and made you feel welcomed by embracing you with open arms. They adopted you and gave you a better chance at an education so you can do what you wanted. You had everything you had ever wanted but something wasn’t right. You would try your damndest to show how happy and appreciative you were to find someone like them because you knew kids in the foster system either never made it out or stayed in a really bad home until they were considered an adult. You just missed your family.

You ended up in a really dark place by your 16th birthday. You caused your adoptive family a lot of money with the therapist and psychiatrist they provided you with. They knew how sad you were. Who wouldn’t be sad? What they didn’t know was you were depressed and developed PTSD along the way. Your psychiatrist put you on several different medications to help you stay focused in school, let you sleep properly, and feel okay for once. One day, you tossed and turned all night because that day was really bad for you. It was your birthday and though your adoptive family went all out for you, buying you a car and your own laptop so you could write down your thoughts, you were feeling weighed down. You felt sorry that you disrupted their lives and blamed yourself for it. You continuously would blame yourself for your parents’ death. You should’ve felt happy but instead it felt reversed so you did something you regretted; you took half the bottle of antidepressants.

When the tears come streaming down your face

'Cause you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone but it goes to waste

What could it be worse?

The person who wanted you to call mom came to check up on you when you unexpectedly left to go to bed at 8pm a few weeks after you attempted suicide, she caught you crying into your pillow. Her heart clenched at the sight of a girl she desperately wanted to be her daughter. She wasn’t able to have kids so she felt incredibly lucky to have you by her side. Your sobs were loud enough to draw her husband and their small Cockapoo, Pilot upstairs so the small family of theirs comforted you in every way they possibly could.

You told them, “I feel so alone. I miss my parents. I barely even knew them but I remember the safeness and security I felt around them. I was a baby, a newborn and they passed away. I didn’t even get to know them.” they wanted to know more but didn’t want to push you. You eventually continued, “The first family I lived with was a good family. I lived with them for 5 years I believe and it was so great. I was loved but they told social worker back then they no longer wanted me. Their explanation was they finally got pregnant. With twins! Three kids were too much so they let me go. I lost a family I loved but I guess they didn’t love me back, you know? It just went to waste. When I got to my first abusive home, I lost a part of my self-respect that day and I never got it back. I lost so much the first time that asshole struck me. He made me think the worst of myself at 8 years old up until I was 13. Did you know he beat me till I passed out because I started my period for the first time?”

You went on for awhile and they all listened to you until you fell asleep on your adoptive mother’s lap while she stroked your hair gently to get the knots out. That day was memorable for you because you started to feel more loved.

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

At 18, you felt different. It was as if you had this electricity surging through you dying to get out and to be used. You didn’t know what it was until you got into a fight with someone on the street for trying to pay you for a certain action no one in their right mind would want to do to some random old guy. He was found dead in the morning inside of a dark alley you dragged him to. Their diagnosis was that he was killed by 12,000 volts of electricity which must’ve been from the telephone pole near him. The police didn’t think anything of it but you did then a few days later, S.H.I.E.L.D. found you. It seems as your adoptive parents knew exactly what was going on. You became an agent that night with every intent on controlling and managing your powers. They called you Carmina, Latin word for electro.

Years rolled by in a blur but time stopped when you met him.

But high up above or down below

When you are too in love to let it show

Oh but if you never try you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Bucky Barnes was in no way perfect, in fact he was probably the most imperfect guy on this entire universe. His past was dark and foggy to him but he knew what had happened, of course, he did. Nobody would forget the murders they committed and he didn’t wish to be a part of anyone’s life. He barely let his best friend back in because of the things he did to him and his team but you were the most unique, gorgeous person he had ever met. He didn’t know what drew him in, maybe it was the sweet smile you gave everyone that you knew and didn’t know; or the twinkle in your eye when you talked about something you were very passionate about; maybe it was the same mutual darkness in the back of your brain that matched his. It was something and it made a change for everything.

You were the first to ask him out. It was a pretty big risk for you seeing as you didn’t trust people very often given your past but he had something separating him from every guy you’ve ever met. He was perfectly imperfect to you. Oh god was he imperfect. It just made you fall even more for him.

You both were very closed off people making it difficult to talk to one another without giving too much information about yourselves but you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent so you had a file. Bucky didn’t think twice to look at it and you did the same with his from H.Y.D.R.A. You both weren’t ready to mention the files you took a peek at because you wanted it to be told in your own way from the heart so it took a while to warm up to each other but eventually you did and it was epic. You fell head over heels in love with each other from one date, the very first date. But the moment you opened up was tragic.

5th date and you were crying but he didn’t understand why. Your past was nowhere near as bad as he was yet you felt like you were barely worth anything. He didn’t understand why you were crying so hard because you worth everything so he told you his past in bits and pieces. You cried in each others arms together, comforting and kissing each other to make yourselves feel better. You felt happy and content to find someone who loves you for you and vice versa.

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

From the very beginning, you felt unlucky and like you were bad luck because nothing good ever happened to you. Your parents passing away was the beginning of a tragic story or that’s what you thought before you found your adoptive family. The loneliness and constant worry about yourself followed you every home you went to. Your depression was something you never imagined you would have and it was the worst thing you imagined. You would never wish that upon your worst enemies because that was real and it controlled everything you did. You didn’t try to kill yourself because of it, you did it to get away from the pain and you were so lucky to still be here because you wouldn’t have died feeling loved. You would’ve died feeling sad and alone. You weren’t alone. You survived.

Bucky Barnes helped you through your journey of recovery after dropping your therapist and psychiatrist for good. He and your family guided you through the tunnel that you couldn’t see in. Your family taught you to love. He taught you to open up. Life wasn’t all that bad anymore. You weren’t unlucky nor were you a bad charm to anyone. You started that way but it didn’t define who you were.

Bucky and you tied the knot 6 years of being together and had the biggest family. You felt at peace. That’s what life wanted you to have. It just gave you a dark tunnel in the beginning and you found your way through. You were finally happy.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the avengers #the avengers imagine

44 notes · View notes

afoolforatook · 4 years

Text

Thank you, Wellies

So. I’ve been trying to do both class work and working on wips and just nothing is clicking. So, I thought I should go ahead and do this post, that I’ve been putting off, because.....it’s next week y’all.... So here goes.

Here’s my original post, that explains what this comic meant to me four years ago.

And here’s what it means to me now. (this is really long, sorry)

Man, I don’t really even know where to start this. How to start to say thank you. To Ngozi, to all of you.... It’s not possible to fully express what all of you have been for me the past four years. What this story has been for me.

So many things have changed since I made this post almost four years ago.

So many things haven’t.

I’ve been way less active in the fandom since starting at SCAD, and I really was never that incredibly active to begin with, outside of my small group of friends on a discord server.

And at times I feel bad about that.

But it’s not because I don’t care about or need this community anymore.

Rather it’s because this community, this story, gave me the strength to keep moving, and now I want to keep doing so, and make something that might one day even barely begin to show my gratitude.

So until then, all I can do is say thank you over and over. I can never possibly say it enough.

But still I wanted to thank you now, and try to explain to you what this comic about hockey and pies has meant to me, one last time before it ends. So that’s what I’ll try to do.

It was surreal rereading this old post earlier this week. Reading

“I think I could write a book just of our history and everything leading up to now and the details of this whole event”

When I wrote this post four years ago, I honestly couldn’t imagine a future where I’d be anything other than incomplete.Or even a future at all. Everyday was just getting up and making myself keep breathing, keep trying to push towards something, even though I had no idea what that could ever be.

For the first year I wrote daily journal entries, telling Emma about what happened that day, screaming at the universe for doing this, trying to help my future self remember little things, because everything was so hard to hold on to.

Update days were always something nearly sacred to me. And really not even from a fan point of view. I don’t read them around other people. I sit somewhere quiet, by myself, and read slowly. Because they are little moments I try to share with her still. The only person I want with me when I read them that first time is her, in whatever capacity I can bring myself to imagine.

A few months after the crash, I found one of Emma’s Spotify playlists. She made playlists for everything; birthday and Christmas presents, mood playlists, friend playlists, monthly playlists.

This was her May 2016 playlist. Last updated May 16th. Two days before the crash.

That playlist was literally the only thing I listened to for months on end. 38 songs.Over and over.

And as I listened I started to think that, just maybe, some of these songs she put there for me.

West Coast; the song me and Emma would send to each other after high school whenever we wanted to let the other know how much we missed them.

All I Want is to Be Your Girl. I mean??

Slowly I found lyrics in every song that even if just in my own fantasy, were little messages from Emma, telling me to keep going, how to stay strong.

I was always looking for stories, books, movies, songs, anything about someone grieving the kind of loss I was. Nothing I found felt like it really represented me. If it was about someone young, it was due to suicide or violence or illness. If it was a car crash, it was about a parent or child. If it somehow fit my other demographics, it was never queer.

I felt totally alone in the exact manifestation of my grief. Like no one else could understand all the tiny details that seemed, to me, to make this all more and more cartoonishly cruel.

(though one of the most touching moments of my life will always be when Emma’s step mom, the only person in her family who knows about us, sent me a book about grieving a spouse. I cried for hours when I opened that.)

I didn’t have outside representation, support. But I had journals. I had Emma’s songs. I had poems and a handful of inktober drawings. I had my little update moments of connection. And I had so much to say.

Months, years, of isolation gives you a lot of time to examine your feelings, to question the meaning of things, to think about what exactly grief looked like to you and about how you wanted to live the rest of your life, as someone grieving a love.

And slowly I began to connect those thoughts to individual lyrics from Emma’s playlist and that helped me actually write all those thoughts out, organize them.

And that’s how The Mixtape Project started (I still hate using the word memoir. I had to find something else to call it). A book about us. About Emma. About all those thoughts I’d had so long to sit with. Structured around the songs from her playlist.

I remember the exact moment that I realized that Check Please was going to actively change my life. I was talking to my dad about it, about why I loved the storytelling, the characters, the art, so much.

I’d told him many times before. But it was always tied to Emma in a way, or to the reasons that I identified with Jack. It was always a little sad in some way.

But this time. This time it was just excitement. It was just a kid who has always loved words, gushing about a story that fascinated them.

And I realized. It was the first time I had been just happy, excited, in the months since losing Emma. I remembered all those ideas Emma helped me with in high school, how we gushed over stories like that. I remembered what it was like to just love something and want to create, just because it made you happy.

I knew I couldn’t go back to UNCA, and none of the other creative writing programs I had looked at seemed like they would fit the new person I was.

So, for the hell of it, looking for some idea at how to start my life over, I looked at Ngozi’s personal story. And there was SCAD. There was sequential art.

Now. I’d never ever considered myself an artist. I went to an art high school, I knew art kids. I was never one of them. But that sequential part? That. THAT was what I wanted. That was what I could still be excited about.

That was how I could pull the Mixtape Project together. The writing, the poems, the art, the music. Comics. Sequential art. A graphic memoir that played with the format. That was the project that kept me going. That was what I was working for. That was the first future I was able to see now that Emma was gone.

So, for the first time since literally elementary school, I took an art class (also took a mythology class at the same time, which really helped keep my art and storytelling tied).

I loved it. I was actually happy with my work, surprised by my work and how quickly I felt like I improved (I wouldn’t learn about aphantasia until I got to SCAD, and understand that that drawing 1 class had been so fun, and in a way, easy, because it was all direct observation, and that drawing from memory and imagination would be a much steeper learning curve for me.)

So, when the class ended I thought ‘you know, maybe some kind of art school could be a good idea.’

And then one of my life long best friends, a SCAD animation student, encouraged me to apply, to just go for it.

And I did. It was a long shot, I was sure. We couldn’t afford it. Why would I get that in that kind of commitment, debt, after 1 art class? It wasn’t logical. But it felt good. So I did.

And then I got accepted, and the initial excitement soon fell away, to me and my parents knowing that it really wasn’t doable.

But we went to admitted students day, just to see. And when we got home, both of my parents cried for a long time. The first happy cry in our house for over two years.

Because they had decided that they had to figure out a way to make it work.

Because standing in Haymans hall was the first time they had seen me excited about the future since Emma died. It was the first time they’d seen me feel like there was somewhere I was meant to be, that there was somewhere I could fit again.

So we made it happen. I’ll still be in debt for years, and it’s not necessarily something I’d wholeheartedly recommend to kids getting out of high school, that debt isn’t worth it for many people.

For me it wasn’t really even worth it exactly for SCAD itself, and you’ll have plenty of professors tell you here that really what you pay for isn’t the education but the networking.

But for me. For me it was worth it.

Because I wasn’t wasting away in my basement.

And I really wasn’t where I’d have liked to have been, ideally, before starting. I was a BRAND new artist. My portfolio for my application was solely my writing work. I hadn’t ever done anything more than scribbled fan comics in my sketchbook. I was coming in wayyyyy behind where most other people were. But I couldn’t wait to feel like I was good enough to be there. There was a strong chance that it was quite literally, a matter of survival. I was reaching a breaking point after nearly three years of isolation and grief with no outlet. The future debt was less of a concern than making sure I didn’t have a complete mental breakdown or worse.

Now, of course, it hasn’t all been easy or fun or happy once I got here. I’ve doubted myself, I’ve had awful weeks, months, been stressed, unmotivated, in pain, near burnout.

The first quarter I was absolutely miserable because I had literally no social life.

Because I was an agoraphobic 23 yr old, living with 17/18 yr olds fresh out of high school. And if I wasn’t careful, I’d dissociate so easily. I’d let myself believe that I was still a teenager fresh from high school. That the past three years of agony hadn’t happened. That I could call Emma and it would ring again. She would answer again. And that illusion was a dangerous pit to fall into.

And it wasn’t until this fall that my social life really started to improve, beyond one or two close friends. And even still, while it’s much better, it’s nothing like UNCA, like the tight knit family I had that made me identify with SMH and the Haus atmosphere so much.

But I was moving forward. Agonizingly slowly sometimes. But still forward.

And then last Spring quarter, just about a year ago, I was in Survey for SEQA. Basically comic book history class. And our final was a 4 page research comic on a comic artist we admired. So of course, I was going to do mine on Ngozi.

The comic was due at the end of the quarter, the end of May.

Now, that quarter was the first time I was actually in SEQA classes; Survey, and Intro.

And those four pages would be the first fully colored, refined comic pages I had EVER done. It was intimidating. I didn’t want to mess it up. Especially because this wasn’t some big name of some far off artist you would never have any connection to. This was someone who all my professors knew.

I ended up getting extremely lucky and had the chance to email Ngozi and ask if she’d be able to give for a quote for the project, advice for current SCAD students.

She replied to my email the weekend of the 3rd anniversary. (I then spent hours on a thank you email - because that’s who I am, I can’t not over analyze anything I’m sending to someone important - and then I managed to save it to drafts instead of actually sending it...something I would not notice until literally months later and be absolutely mortified about my apparent rudeness of never thanking her.)

I still am not really happy with how that project came out. I still had (and have) a lot to learn, and it shows. I have, in no way, become an amazing comic artist overnight. I wasn’t expecting to.

But that short email exchange, falling on that weekend; it felt special. It felt like some speck of proof that I was doing the right thing. That things could actually go well in my life again. That if I kept going, I might actually get somewhere that I wanted to be. That maybe I really could make The Mixtape Project happen, if I just kept at it here.

And then I found out that in the fall, Ngozi would be the SEQA mentor.

Unfortunately by the time I had all the details about how to apply, the quarter had started and there were only a couple of weeks before it was due, and the only pages I had even anywhere close to being portfolio ready were either my research comic or a few older Check Please fan comics, none of which I would even have considered putting in that portfolio (I’m not 100% certain it would actually have come across as sucking up but it sure felt like it would have). And despite my best efforts, it just wasn’t possible, with how slow I work and having to keep up with classwork, for me to get a portfolio ready in time.

That hurt for a while. I felt like I had this clear sign of perfect timing. How could I pass up that chance? How could I forgive myself for not doing everything I could to earn that experience? How was I not letting Emma down if I ruined this opportunity?

It took a while to get out of that negative thought spiral. But I did, and it’s still a bummer, but it’s okay.

And something that really helped?

In October, Ngozi still came to campus to give a lecture. And that would have been good enough; just sitting in on that helped me feel excited, encouraged again. But then, after the lecture (with my amazing roommate waiting patiently behind with me, to make sure I didn’t actually have a panic attack on the way home) I got to talk to her.

We all hope to one day get to talk to the people who inspired us, whose work we love, to tell them how much they mean to us. And yes, I was a little version of starstruck.

But that wasn’t why I was shaking. That wasn’t why I told her I was going to do my best to get this out without crying (and I did, I’m proud to say).

It was because I had the opportunity, while at the school that had given me a chance to start my life again, to thank the woman who was in all likelihood, one of the main reasons I was even still alive. If it had not been for Check Please I wouldn’t have had that good thing to keep sharing with Emma. I wouldn’t have found sequential art, at least not for a while longer probably. I wouldn’t have been able to finally picture a future I wanted to get to.

And I’ll be honest, I don’t remember 90% of what I actually said that night to Ngozi.

But I told her my story. I told her about Emma. About how Check Please was the last thing we got to share. I thanked her. And she was wonderful and kind and emotional and hugged me a couple of times, and even though I don’t remember a lot of what I actually said; it was something that will be one of the most important, affirming moments of my life.

I didn’t have a panic attack on the way home. I somehow managed to not cry until we were back to our dorm. But I was stunned.

Not even because of the amazing moment I had been able to have with Ngozi.

But because it hit me.

I was doing it. I was there. I had actually made it this far.

Somewhere that just over a year ago I never would have believed was possible.

A time when, two years before, I hadn’t even been sure I could make it to alive.

That weekend was my 24th birthday. And it was the first birthday since I left UNCA at 19, that I didn’t just hate the fact that I was getting older. That I was moving away from the happiest parts of my life so far.

Yes it still hurt getting further from Emma, putting another tick on the years that I got that she didn’t.

But I was actually finally excited at the idea of even having a future, let alone having an idea of what it could be.

February was a difficult month for me. I have another (entirely way too long) post about why everything that happened with RWBY and Fairgame was so difficult for me, but to put it simply; my hope for the future was shaken.

I was back in the toxic negative thought spirals I had fought for years to train myself out of.

I was seeing Emma, or her brother, or her mom, in crowds; something I hadn’t experienced since the first few months after the crash. I was in one of the biggest crisis moments I’d had since Emma’s death.

But I was more experienced than when I was 20.

It wasn’t fun, a lot of it probably wasn’t the ideal way to cope, but I did it. And I kept up with my work. I isolated more, but not completely. I made myself vent on snapchat or tumblr, and not worry about oversharing or annoying people, because it was either get it out or let it fester in my head. And I couldn’t afford to let that happen.

In mid March, I made a pitch packet for my comic scripting final.

It was for The Mixtape Project. It was hard, and nerve-wracking, and there’s still mountains of work to be done.

But after my initial synopsis (first of like seven versions, cause trying to put this thing in a good synopsis format is a nightmare) my professor told me that he thought my story had potential.

That he could see it being published. He suggested, knowing that I was planning on taking his advanced scripting course this quarter (hey remember how mid march was only a few weeks ago?? Huh?? wild), that I keep working on it, and see about taking it to Editor’s day (SEQA students’ opportunity to basically pitch themselves and their ideas to publishers).

Now, my professor is by no means an overly harsh critic, and is plenty supportive in general.

But I also knew that that was not just something he said to students all the time. That he meant it.

Editor’s Day (now online) is in mid May. The week of the 4th anniversary of Emma’s death, to be exact.

Everything is a mess right now, and I’m stressed and tired and scared and heartbroken (this will be the first time since I was 9 that I have not had Merlefest; the highlight of my year, and since Emma’s death; the last big happy thing before I plunge into the nightmare that is May).

Tuesday will come. Check Please will end. I will continue to support Ngozi and her work after Bitty’s story ends.

But it will be sad. It won’t be easy.

This thing that has been my tether to the most important person in my life, will still be there, but it will be over.

It will have a concrete end. It will no longer be part of the future I am pushing towards.

But I am a different person than the shattered kid who wrote this post four years ago.

I’m not who I was before Emma died. I never will be. I’d never try to be. I want Emma back more than anything. But that won’t happen. And as long as this is all real, I never want to pretend this didn’t happen.

That I didn’t shatter in a way that will never heal like people expect.

I’m still all those shattered pieces that wrote this post. Maybe a few have had the edges dulled, maybe I’ve lost a few, glued a few together perfectly, maybe picked up a few stray pieces that didn’t come from the me from before.

But I will be those shattered pieces for the rest of my life.

They won’t magically fuse back together. I work every day to hold them, to keep myself in some shape that resembles a functioning person.

Some days I fail. Some days, I am too tired to even try. Some days, I am so angry, I’d rather hurl the pieces at whatever power or fate or god or chaos decided that I got to live and she didn’t.

But those days pass.

And I learn how to hold the pieces better, how to avoid the sharpest edges, how to take care of the wounds when I inevitably cut myself on one, how to allow other people to help me hold them, how to accept that some pieces may feel safe and smooth and comforting but they are traps, illusions that are the easy way to do things, but not the healthy way, not the way that will help me achieve my goals.

That person, made of all those unholdable pieces, four years ago, was staying alive for everyone else but themself.

And some days I still am.

For my parents. For Emma. For all the other queer, mentally ill, grieving kids and young adults and just people, who are looking for the same representation I was, who feel as alone as I still do so often.

But some days.

On those really good days.

I’m alive, carrying all those pieces, just because I want to be. For me.

I want to spin around in the morning, singing along to my bluegrass spotify. I want to get excited over finally figuring out how to write that line that was giving me so much trouble, or finish that sketch that I never thought I could manage. I want to hope that despite how awful everything seems, there’s still a good future out there. It’s still possible to be happy some days.

I want to cry because I get to see Jack and Bitty get the happy ending that me and Emma didn’t.

And now, unlike that version of me from four years ago, when it ends, I will have things still.

Things that I have worked everyday to reach, to deserve, to hold out to people and say

“Hey, sometimes everything hurts and you know that things will never be what they were, and parts of you will always miss that. But there are still things you can find that hurt less, that ease the hurt, that teach you how to better hold the hurt, to stop trying to say it doesn’t exist or trying to get rid of it completely and hating yourself when you can’t. You can still be hurt, be irreparably broken in so many places, and still find the happy things. You are still worthy of love, no matter how broken you are. Your worth is not tied to how much you are able to heal. You are worthy of so much love, just because you are still here, no matter how many tiny pieces you are in.”

The thing is, I will still always have a future that includes Emma. Because I couldn’t tell you exactly which of my pieces are from her, but so many of them are.

There is no version of me, from here on to the day I die, that does not have her influence embedded in every piece.

These days I try to be a little kinder to myself. It doesn’t always work, but I try.

Because, to Emma, I was Bitty. I radiated that “thing”.

Whether or not I saw it in myself, doesn’t matter, because she did.

But to me she was the one who radiated.

And she is a part of me. She can’t radiate that “thing” herself anymore.

But I can, at least I can try.

Because If this person I loved and trusted so immensely, saw something worth loving in me? There must be something there worth loving, right?

And if she is a part of me for the rest of my life, how can I hate myself? How can I do anything but keep going so that, even if just in my head, a part of her gets to keep going too.

My family and friends joke that every friend group I’ve ever had calls me something different. And really it’s not a joke. In middle school I was CB #4 (that’s a long, terribly embarrassing, story). In high school I was Pond (and many variations there of: Pondala, Pondy, Raindrop, Puddle, you get the picture). At UNCA, when I came out as nonbinary, I started going by Auden. When I went home it was back to Meagan; Meagan always felt right with my parents.

With Emma I was always Meagan. We were Meagan and Emma. Megma. Meagan and Emma have online adventures!

After she was gone, Meagan didn’t really feel like me anymore. I loved Meagan, I missed Meagan, I wished I could still really fully be Meagan, and I’m okay still being Meagan sometimes.

But that real Meagan. The Meagan that was Emma’s Meagan. Doesn’t exist anymore. I lost that Meagan somewhere in that first night of screaming and trying to break my hand against the wall, so I could just feel something other than the agony of Emma being gone.

When I joined a Check Please chat group, a few months after the crash, we gave each other hockey nicknames. I was Farley.

My second quarter at SCAD, I started going by Farley. It stuck.

That’s who this version of me is. This new artist, still figuring things out, but still going.

I may not always stay Farley (other than ya’know artist ‘branding’. We’ll see) but that’s okay. Farley is who I need to be right now.

Farley is who will finish The Mixtape Project.

(because of two people mishearing both my nickname and last name I will, at least once in my career, use the pseudonym Fartley McFarmland and no one will stop me).

I can’t imagine what, who, will come after Farley, if anything.

But Check Please will always be a part of making Farley, and every future version of me, exist.

I could go on and on about how beautiful this story and these characters are, how inspiring Ngozi is, how genius her storytelling is, how powerful and important her work is. I could go on for days about all of that. But this is already so long, and I know that so many of you can go on about that probably way better than I could currently.

But, as many of my professors tell us over and over, only I can tell this story. My story. Emma’s story. Our story. And it’s one I plan on telling for the rest of my life.

And Check Please, Ngozi, will forever be the thing that made that possible.

So thank you. Those two words that are way too small to say it all.

Thank you.

Every fic writer

Every artist

Every rper

Every chat friend

Every shitposter

Every theorist or meta poster

Every fan

Thank you.

B. “Shitty” Knight.

Larissa “Lardo” Duan

Adam “Holster” Birkholtz

Justin “Ransom” Oluransi

John Johnson

Ollie O'Meara

Pacer Wicks

Jenny and Mandy

Nicholas and Jean-Claude

Coach Hall

Coach Murray

Suzanne Bittle

Richard “Coach” Bittle

William “Dex” Poindexter

Derek “Nursey” Nurse

Chris “Chowder” Chow

Kent Parson

Alicia Zimmermann

“Bad” Bob Zimmermann

Tony “Tango” Tangredi

Connor “Whiskey” Whisk

Denice “Foxtrot” Ford

Fry Guy

Georgia “Georgie” Martin

Alexei “Tater” Mashkov

Sebastian “Marty” St. Martin

Dustin “Snowy” Snow

Poots

Randall “Thirdy” Robinson

Jonathan “Hops” Hopper

River “Bully” Bullard

Lukas “Louis” Landmann

(I’m almost certain I had to have missed someone)

Thank you.

Jack “Zimmboni” Laurent Zimmermann

Thank you.

Eric “Bitty” Richard Bittle

Thank you.

Ngozi Ukazu

Thank you. For everything.

For having my back. I’ll always have yours.

Always yours,

Farley M.

#Check Please #omgcp #my person #my writing #meagan and emma have online adventures #-slaps me- you can fit so many confused emotions in this thing

8 notes · View notes

despressolattes · 4 years

Text

AFTERMATH | CHAPTER ELEVEN | LEGACIES

BOOK ONE—SIDE CHARACTER

AFTERMATH MASTERLIST

< CHAPTER EIGHT < CHAPTER NINE < CHAPTER TEN

I'm straying from the show a bit so enjoy my version of legacies

---

More recap, there was a dryad that came for the knife that called Alaric out on his tragic love life. Ouch, tree lady, he so didn't need that.

A student council was created, Josie, Hope, MG, Rafael, and I are all on it. Josie represents the witches, Hope represents the tribrid, or herself, MG represents the vampires, Rafael represents the werewolves-he's the alpha now, by the way- and I represent the Original. I'm not too sure what my interests would be since literally nothing can kill me, but hey, my mother is alive, maybe I can die. Landon was sent away. It was only Rafael and I voting to keep him.

The twin's bio mom made a guest appearance at their 16th birthday party. Don't you just love it when the dead come back?

Time to be a walking reality show, not that my life hasn't already been one.

- Lilah Mikaelson

Hope and I were finally on speaking terms again, after our huge fight. She told me that she has come to terms with the fact that Roman "aided in the murder of her mother". I think part of that decision had to do with Landon getting sent away. She acted like she hated him, but in reality she was covering up the fact that she had feelings for the townie.

Plus, she and I were Mikaelsons. We would protect always and forever, it was our family's legacy. The aftermath of our dads' deaths was that always and forever was ours to uphold now.

"What are you going to do about your mom? Just let her stay in New Orleans while you deal with the trouble here at the school?"

I ran my hands through my disheveled hair, and nodded. I held my knees to my chest, and stared out the window. We had a nice view of the field, and I caught a glimpse of the Wickery match going on. Roman was out there, shirtless, enjoying himself being on the winning team as always, him and Rafael beasts on the field together. He looked towards our window, our eyes meeting for a second. He smiled and waved, and I sent one back before he was back paying attention to the game.

Hope sat down next to me, and leaned her head on my shoulder. I glanced down at the bracelet she had. I guess the fact that it hasn't glowed yet means Landon was safe and sound in New Orleans. Hope sent him that way, but I was assuming that he didn't actually end up there. I had no calls from Damon, Elena, or Bonnie that he had arrived to get help.

Hope showed me a picture of Seylah, his mom. I had a feeling he went to find her on his own instead.

"You should go and figure out what's going on with them," Hope told me. "She's your mom."

"We have problems here at the school," I said. "I'm not leaving you, Alaric, Roman, the twins, and literally everyone else to fend for yourselves. I'm the only one here who can't die, which means I'm the best weapon this school got. Lorelle is fine in New Orleans, Aunt Bex and Uncle Kol are there."

Hope squeezed my hand.

"I'm here," she said. "Always and forever."

I walked outside with a book in my hand. I had no homework and things were quiet. It was the first amount of peace I had in a while. I had my favorite playlist going, and I picked up on the last page I was on.

I got ten pages in before someone took the book from me. I looked up, taking out earbud out to see Rafael standing there with a smile, examining the book.

"The Hate U Give," he read the book's title, and nodded approvingly before handing it back to me. "It's a good one."

"You've read it?" I asked him, and he nodded.

In the time of all the craziness, Rafael and I definitely got closer. When his ex girlfriend showed up from the dead, and he went through his grieving for a second time, he and I had a heart to heart with Alaric. Alaric had let Jo go so many times, but I knew this last time was the worst because he had to watch his daughters lose their mother.

Rafael was there whenever I needed to talk about how weird it is for me knowing Lorelle was out there. Roman was, too, but there were emotions and feelings he wouldn't understand.

He sat down next to me as I reopened my book, moving in a position so that he could also see the pages. He picked up the earbud that I took out, and wiped it first, then put it into his own ear. He also nodded approvingly with the song I was playing.

"Where's Sienna?" he asked.

Since being here, he and Rafael started calling each other by their last names. They were almost friends, but I guess more of rivals in a way. They worked well together, but loved to compete, loved to one up the other.

I pointed with my head to the field. Rafael smirked and stood up, running towards saying he had the next game. Roman saw him and smiled. They fist bumped, and Rafael waited on the sidelines until the next game started. Roman glanced over at me, and before the next game started, he ran over.

He tried to hug me, which I moved away because he was sweating.

"Oh, c'mon," he laughed, and I gave in, leaving into him. "You feeling okay today?"

"I am," I said.

He moved a piece of hair out of my face.

"Good," he said. "I'll let you get back to your reading."

He placed a quick kiss to my forehead before running back onto the field. I looked at Rafael who sent me a teasing smile, and I smiled and shook my head, redirecting my attention to my book.

I really wished that things could go back to days like this. But I was a Mikaelson, what did I expect?

CHAPTER TWELVE

#doppleganger #Legacies #elijah mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #Kol mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #mikaelson #freya mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #hopesoriginal #hope mikaelson #landon kirby #saltzman #alaric saltzman #saltzman twins #josie saltzman #josie saltz #lizzie saltzman #rafael waithe

4 notes · View notes

sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years

Text

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Seven

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

June 16th, 2017

“Mom, I’m not trying to start anything, I swear, I just want my hair short for the summer!” Logan pleaded.

But his mom just shook her head. “You look lovely with long hair, Jessica. If it gets too hot you can just put your hair up in a ponytail.”

“What about a bob?” Logan bargained. “I could put that in a ponytail by the end of summer, and it would stay off my neck most of the time! I just...I want it short.”

“You’d regret cutting your hair in an instant, young lady,” his mom said. “If you wanted your hair up again, or wanted to braid it, you wouldn’t be able to. We’re not cutting your hair.”

Logan did his best to not storm off in a huff after that declaration. Sure, he was still in the closet, but a bob would be better than this horrible ponytail he always had to wear.

January 20th, 2019

Logan was singing the song as he worked on his homework, his voice light and lilting in the afternoon sun. He heard a small gasp come from the doorway, and turned to see Roman standing there, jaw agape. “I didn’t know you could sing,” Roman said, voice raspy.

Reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear that he realized was still in his ponytail, Logan tugged on his ear instead. “I don’t, usually. I don’t like how high my voice is. I guess I was just in a good mood.”

“What was the song?” Roman asked, his voice continuing to rasp a little.

“It’s called Welcome to the Black Parade,” Logan said. “Some of the students I know from school listen to a band called My Chemical Romance. I checked out some of their songs, and not all of them are kid friendly, but I do like that one.”

Roman cleared his throat and walked over slowly. “Do you think...do you think you could teach me the song?”

Logan nodded slowly. “Do you mind my asking...why?” Roman glanced toward the doorway, and Logan was quick to reassure him. “I won’t tell Mister Picani. Either of them.”

Roman swallowed. “I...my mom. It reminded me of my mom.”

Logan nodded in understanding. “Oh. Yeah, when you lose someone important, sometimes music is a good release. I can let you listen to the song on my phone while I work?”

Roman nodded with a grateful smile. Logan passed him the phone, earbuds plugged in, and Roman set himself up on Logan’s bed, listening to the song with rapt attention. Logan pretended not to notice the tears that leaked through Roman’s façade as he continued to listen to the song.

They sat in silence a while, Logan working on his homework, and Roman listening to the song, mouthing the words to the lyrics. When Logan’s homework was done, he stood, and Roman pulled the earbuds out of his ears. “You can keep listening, if you want. I’m not going anywhere,” Logan said.

“It’s okay, I think I have most of it memorized anyway,” Roman said.

“You sure?” Logan asked.

Roman nodded. “I pick up songs pretty quick. And I don’t want to leave you without your phone. Worst comes to worst, I look it up on my own phone.”

Logan shrugged. “All right.” Roman headed towards the door, but Logan put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Hey, Roman...”

Roman looked at him expectantly, eyes red and just a little puffy.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” he finished. That was neutral enough. Hopefully Roman wouldn’t get suspicious or try to shut Logan out after this.

Roman gave him a flicker of a smile and nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

The boys stood there in silence a moment before Roman mumbled a, “I’ll be downstairs,” and the spell was broken. Logan picked up one of his for-pleasure books from the nightstand in the room and settled down to relax and let his mind wander for a half hour, before they left for the barber’s.

When he heard the muffled voice of Mister Remy calling, “Logan, it’s time to go!” he replaced his book mark and left the book itself on the bed, heading downstairs and out the door with a grin. This would be the first time he had his hair short in literal years.

When the three of them were in the car, Mister Emile waving them off from the doorway, Mister Remy drove off. Logan resisted the urge to excitedly squirm...for the most part. He couldn’t help the grin nearly splitting his face in two at the prospect of once again having short hair. It was such a small thing to be excited about, but he couldn’t help himself.

Roman was sending him odd looks from the back. “Hey, Logan, when’s the last time you had short hair?” he asked.

Logan thought back on it and shrugged. “I’m not sure, honestly. I think it might have been when I was in second grade.”

“And you’re in tenth now?” Roman confirmed.

“Yeah,” Logan said. “So this is a big moment.”

“Do you know what style you want to get?” Mister Remy asked. “Since you finally got a phone plan that allows you to use the Internet again?”

Logan shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know exactly what I want, and I might hate what I do with my hair for this, but...” he ducked his head, ears tinged pink. “I kinda want to try a pompadour.”

“Hey, I think it’d look good on you,” Mister Remy said with a smile. “Give it a go if you want. And if you wind up not liking it, you never have to get it again once it grows out.”

Logan nodded, ears still pink. “It just...feels really weird thinking about having short hair again. I keep on second-guessing myself...but I always hated having long hair. And even if I don’t like this style, there has to be another men’s style that could work.”

Roman shot him a grin. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d look like a complete dork no matter what.”

“You’re just mad that I’m older than you,” Logan shot back with a smirk.

“As if! I’ll always be the more creative one, so I don’t need to be older than you!” Roman challenged.

“Yeah? Well, I’m planning on being an astronomer, maybe an astrophysicist. So I think I’ll always be the smarter one in terms of schooling. I don’t need to prove myself to you,” Logan replied easily.

“Boys, be careful that this doesn’t get out of hand,” Mister Remy warned. “We don’t want any hurt feelings.”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan said. “You cool, Roman?”

“Yeah. I don’t care about book smarts all that much,” Roman said. “I’ve seen some of the people at my school rehearse lines for the school play and I want to try out for it next year. It could be fun.”

“It’s hard to make a career out of acting,” Logan warned.

“Maybe, but right now, it’s not a career, it’s just a little fun,” Roman brushed off.

Logan made a noise in the back of his throat. “What’s the point in fun if you can’t get good at it and make something of yourself for it?”

Roman shrugged. “I dunno. I just want to have a good time, meet some new people, have a few friends. Fun doesn’t have to have a point. And you don’t have to be wildly successful to be happy.”

Logan frowned and chewed that thought. His parents had been wrong about a lot of things before. Could this have been another thing they had lied about?

“We’re here,” Mister Remy said, pulling into the parking lot of a small shopping outlet.

Logan was nervous as they walked into the barbershop. Everyone there was presenting as male or gender non-conforming, and it felt odd to be sporting a ponytail in here. A man walked over and said, “Remy!” in a booming voice, crushing the man in a hug. “When I heard your call, I could barely believe it. You wound up with kids?!”

Remy shrugged. “Domestic life has its perks, apparently, Dominic,” he said easily. “This is Roman, and that’s Logan. Roman said he just wants a trim, but Logan...he’s gonna need some serious cuts. His old family was rather strict about his hair.”

Dominic scoffed. “Ridiculous! Hair is an expression of yourself! To restrict that is just cruel! Come on, young man, we’ll get you whatever cut you like.”

Logan was led to a chair in front of a mirror and he took his glasses off as Dominic draped a plastic covering over his shoulders. “Now then, Logan, what would you like today?”

“I’d like a pompadour, if that’s all right,” Logan said, voice trembling only slightly. “Preferably only a few inches long, at most.”

“Logan, in this shop the customer is always allowed to choose their own hair style,” Dominic said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you want that, I can do it. First, we should chop off that ponytail, don’t you think?”

“Please,” Logan all but begged. “I’ve had it for seven years at least and I’ve hated every second it’s been there. Chop it off.”

Dominic nodded and grabbed a pair of scissors. Logan took out his ponytail and let his hair fall over the chair, down to his shoulder blades. Dominic used his scissors with exact precision, and soon Logan’s hair was falling to the ground, a broken halo he no longer needed. Once the hair was at about a short bob, Dominic brought out an electric razor, and started shearing off the hair on the sides and very back of Logan’s head. “Is that short enough?” he asked Logan.

Logan brought out his glasses and looked at the shaved hair in the mirror, feeling it. It couldn’t be more than a quarter of an inch long. “That’s perfect,” Logan said. “Can you show me how to style the top?”

“Certainly,” Dominic said, grabbing scissors as Logan took off his glasses again. “I’ll cut the last of it and then I’ll show you how to gel it and comb it back.”

And true to his word, when Logan was pleased with the length of his hair Dominic explained how much hair gel to use, and how to comb it into his hair, and consequently wash it out at the end of the day.

At the end of the haircut, Logan put on his glasses and grinned genuinely at what he saw. “I don’t believe it,” he said, reaching to look closer into the mirror and feel his hair. “I look like myself. For once in my life, I actually look like myself. Thank you so much!”

“Logan, it was my pleasure,” Dominic said. “Come back when you need a trim, all right?”

“Definitely,” Logan said, grinning and shaking Dominic’s hand.

He walked over to where Roman and Mister Remy were waiting. Roman only had a few inches taken off his already-long spikes, and he looked about how Logan expected he would. Mister Remy looked up and whistled. “Looking sharp, Logan!”

Unable to help himself, Logan laughed and brought a hand up to his mouth, covering his grin. “I look like myself, finally!” he exclaimed.

“You look like a dork,” Roman said. “So I agree.”

Logan simply laughed in response. “You wish you could look this good!” he said, striking a pose.

Mister Remy led them out after thanking Dominic, and they headed back to the car. “Are we gonna need to invest in hair gel, Logan?” Mister Remy asked.

“Maybe a little,” Logan said. “If you want me to keep this look.”

“If you want to keep it, we’ll grab some,” Mister Remy promised. “For now, let’s go home.”

Logan and Roman agreed and no sooner did they get back than Emile walked out of the house and nearly squealed in delight. “Love the hair, Logan!”

“Thanks,” Logan said, beaming with pride. “I really like it. I actually look like myself for once!”

“That’s amazing!” Emile said. “Should we watch some celebratory cartoons?”

“Maybe some Steven Universe is in order,” Logan said with a grin.

Emile cheered and Remy leaned over to Logan, stage-whispering, “You’re enabling him. Never a good idea.”

Logan just laughed as they all headed inside. He sat down next to Emile on the couch and they watched some Steven Universe, belting out the lyrics to the theme song because why not, nobody was going to judge them!

His conversation earlier with Roman floated to the forefront of his mind, and his expression turned thoughtful. Sometime, he’d have to ask Roman more about that. He didn’t want to pry too much so soon, but one day he’d have to figure out what was wrong. He could help, but he needed to know what was up first.

As one episode turned into the next, Logan put those thoughts out of his mind. Right now, he wanted to ride the high of his gender euphoria for as long as possible. If he could milk more seconds of joy out of this experience, he definitely wanted them.

#we'll carry on #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #roman sanders #remy sanders #our creations #danger gays

16 notes · View notes

5hfanfiction · 6 years

Text

Broken - Chapter 2

A/N: Trigger Warning: Blood, Death

Lauren can feel the cool breeze against her cheek as she tilts her head out of the car window, laughing with her sister.

Her mother looks back at the two of them, smiling as the sun hits their faces. Mike laughs at his daughters goofing around with each other, lovingly teasing one another. Even Chris can't help but smile at them, chuckling to himself as he puts his headphones back in.

For the first time in a long time, Lauren feels like she can breathe. She feels happy. No stress, no bad feelings. She can actually feel something besides numbness as she sits in the car, surrounded by the people she loves most.

Mike turns around to smile back at her, sensing that the green-eyed girl was finally feeling at peace. His eyes sparkle as they connect with Lauren’s, and she can see how much he loves her. She smiles back at him, wishing this moment with her family could last forever.

But it can’t.

“Dad, look out!” Taylor exclaims, pointing in front of her as another car comes hurdling towards them.

Mike swerves, trying to avoid the collision, and the car starts to spin out of control. Lauren can’t feel anything but terror, grabbing onto her sister and shielding her as tears flow down her face.

Suddenly, the car slams into something hard, lurching them all forward in the vehicle.

Lauren slams her head against the seat in front of her, momentarily losing her sight. Everything is blurry when she opens her eyes, and she can’t hear anything except for a high-pitched ringing noise.

She shakes her head, trying to regain focus, and realizes what happened.

Frantically, she looks next to her at her siblings, both covered in blood. She can feel her blood rushing to her head and her heart pounding as she reaches to them, trying to get them to open their eyes, their blood staining her clothes.

“Taylor, Chris, you guys…Please wake up…,” she begs them, tears blurring her vision as she tries to prod them awake, her breathing getting more shallow and desperate.

“Wake up! Come on!” the green-eyed girl screams at them, shaking them as hard as she can. She can barely breathe at this point, adrenaline taking over.

There’s no way this can be happening; not to her, not to her family. They have to wake up. They will wake up. Why aren’t they waking up?

Sobs wracking her body, Lauren pushes the car door open and stumbles out of the vehicle. She tries to slow her breathing, but the crying just gets worse. She can’t help but feel like this is all her fault. Why is everything always her fault? Why-

“Lauren…,” a voice calls from beside the car, interrupting her thoughts.

Lauren whips her head around to see her mom lying on the ground, obviously injured. Clara slowly reaches a hand toward her daughter, motioning for her to come closer.

Lauren runs to her mom, the tears flowing faster now as she crouches down beside her.

“M-mom? What happened? What do we do? They’re hurt mom, I don’t know what to do, there’s blood everywhere, they won’t wake up, please make them wake up…,” Lauren rambles, unable to stop herself as all the pain and sadness comes pushing forward.

“Lauren?”

Lauren hears her name called again, but it’s not coming from her mother this time. She can’t bring herself to move from Clara’s side, holding her and weeping.

Clara looks up at her daughter, smiling softly as Lauren holds her. Their eyes meet, and Lauren can see Clara doesn’t have much time left.

“No! No, you can’t leave me! Please!” Lauren screams, unable to breathe now. Her world starts to twist as she loses oxygen, feeling her mom fall from her grasp. “Please…Please don’t go again…,” Lauren croaks, feeling weaker and losing consciousness.

“Lauren!”

Lauren snaps awake, sitting straight up and trying to catch her breath. Her vision is still blurry, and she can’t place where she is. She feels two arms try to wrap around her and pushes them away quickly, standing shakily on her feet.

“Lauren, it’s me…it’s Camila.”

Hearing the name brings Lauren back to the present. She is in Miss Grant’s office. She is with Camila.

Her family is dead.

She looks at Camila and says nothing. Miss Grant tries to speak to her about arrangements for leaving the rehab center, but Lauren doesn’t hear a word. She stares blankly in front of her, completely shutting down.

She walks out with Miss Grant and Camila, letting Miss Grant hug her, but not reciprocating the gesture. She goes to her room and packs her things silently, Camila trying not to hover over her protectively.

“Look, Lauren, I know this is a lot for you right now, but I was thinking maybe we could talk…about what happened…,” Camila’s voice trails off, looking down and playing with her fingers.

The green-eyed girl abruptly stops what she’s doing and turns on her heel to look at the smaller girl in front of her. She notes how Camila has grown slightly, but not much else as changed about her.

She’s wearing the hoodie Lauren got her for her 16th birthday, and her hair is tied up in a messy ponytail. Her face looks the same, except more tired than Lauren remembers. It’s still the same Camila.

The same Camila that betrayed her.

Lauren feels her anger building and marches up to Camila until their faces are inches away, looking down at her for a moment before speaking.

“What happened is that you did the one thing I asked you not to do, Camila,” Lauren says, getting angrier, “The one thing that you knew would break my heart, and you did it anyway!” Lauren scoffs as Camila looks down, tears brimming at her eyes.

For a moment, Lauren’s heart breaks at seeing the other girl upset. She remembers what it was like before all of this happened, before the rehab center, before that day Camila found her in the bathroom.

Unfortunately, that moment doesn’t last long.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Lauren says sternly, “I’m not staying with you. I don’t care if that’s what they told you, that wasn’t my decision. I’m going to get in your car, and you’re going to take me back to my house.” She jabs a finger into the smaller girl’s chest as she continues.

“And then you’re going to leave me the fuck alone.”

Camila can’t hold in her tears anymore and runs out of the room, not even looking back at the girl she used to know. She gets to her car and slides in the driver’s seat, trying to get the tears out before Lauren sees her.

They told her she might lash out, but Camila never thought Lauren would be like this. She thought maybe this was her chance to make it up to the older girl for betraying her, and maybe even help her understand that she was only trying to save Lauren’s life.

Now she knows this might be the last time she ever sees Lauren again.

The passenger car door opens and slams shut, interrupting her thoughts. Camila looks at Lauren sadly, wishing she could get her to talk to her, to understand that Camila loves her.

Seeing Lauren’s icy glare makes Camila give up on that immediately. She sighs, turning the key in the ignition and starting the long drive back to Lauren’s house.

The ride back is silent, neither of the girls attempting to make conversation. Camila watches Lauren out of the corner of her eye, making sure she’s okay - or at least as okay as she can be right now.

They finally arrive at Lauren’s house and the older girl doesn’t even wait for the car to come to a complete stop before she gets out, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Wait- Lauren!” Camila says, putting the car in park and getting out to follow the girl up her driveway.

“Look, Lauren, I know things ended badly but I was just trying to help you- I just wanted you to be okay.” Camila can hear the green-eyed girl laugh coldly in front of her as they near Lauren’s front door.

Lauren opens her door and turns around, looking at the small girl in front of her, not saying a word.

Camila sighs, tiredly looking up at the girl who was once her best friend. “Lauren, I really am sorry, but I did what I had to do. Please don’t shut me out.”

The older girl looks at Camila, her face expressionless. It feels like an eternity before she finally speaks up.

“They’re dead because I wasn’t there to save them, Camila,” Lauren says, her words barely more than a whisper.

“And I wasn’t there to save them because you put me in that place.”

Lauren walks inside her house, shutting the door in Camila��s face and locking it before she can say anything in response.

All of the days emotions finally start to hit Lauren and she sinks down onto her knees, putting her head in her hands.

And she starts to cry.

A/N: I originally wrote this on Wattpad and I just wanted to post it here to see if anyone enjoyed it! My Wattpad username is @camilasjaureguiii so feel free to read it on there and let me know if you want me to keep updating!

#UPDATE #series #slash #trigger warning #camren #angst drama #submission #Broken

11 notes · View notes

whippedkoalas · 6 years

Text

Skamfr - episode 3

life kind of got in the way and I forgot to post my reactions to the clips but, I still want to do it because it’s fun. So!

Après coups.

The guy who tells his friend what happened to Alex is hilarious.

I love that Emma isn’t laughing when she says that Charles was with a girl.

The contrast between Daphné’s worry and Charles’ answer is really telling, and thanks to the way she delivers that line, you can definitely see that Daphné knows that. She knows that his answer isn’t great.

“donc ça va” I laughed. Lula is so talented.

Charles and Alex are not in the hospital! plot twist. They’re at school.

It’s cool to see someone stopping Alex to talk to him. It kind of shows that they have friends/are sociable.

Charles doesn’t care about that girl, tho, because ... oh. Manon is here.

The way Manon is looking twice at him, while Daphné is still talking about the mysterious girl is great. I think it shows their connection well.

Manon’s silence throughout the exchange is even more telling than Noora’s I think because Manon talks a lot and never hesitates to tell Daphné what she’s thinking. She doesn’t even seem to be afraid of Daphné knowing about the date, she seems a bit lost in her own thoughts and then, when she spots Charles, you can guess she was... putting all the pieces together.

Daphné asking Emma to ask Camille and Emma saying she’s gonna ask is great. They unapologetically love gossip.

Petit gabarit

Daphné... Maybe you could avoid talking about Yann hookup to Emma? but nice first impression Anna, see you later.

Daphné doesn’t stop, does she?

Emma sliding away from Daphné when she sits down too close... same. She seems really bored.

“like you” “nonsense” Manon, can I remind you that Charles, in fact, likes you best? I mean... I know it’s a tricky situation, but I feel really bad for Daphné because there are so many occasions when the girls could have acknowledged that Charles is just... not interested in Daphné like she wants him to, and the girls just do not and every time they’re letting her build her own reality in her head and it’s sad. Even sadder because I know that in like, one week, Manon is gonna prove her right.

Manon... nobody said you had to go to that party, but okay! and now that you made sure the girls know you’re not going, you can’t find an excuse, lol.

Look, I say it all the time but Emma is my favorite. The moment it clicks in her head is so clear.

and suddenly, her love for gossip wakes her up.

I love how excited she gets because she busted Manon. We know she struggled a bit with her grades so that makes sense.

‘You understand why I can’t go?’ ‘no’ Oh my god, the way she says ‘no’.

Manon, your explanation does not make sense.

Emma is so funny.

Manon not being able to calm Emma down is so interesting because it’s like... the moment she loses control.

Bonne nuit, Manon.

I’m Lisa, Lisa is me.

but also, Lisa’s rant is so... fitting right now with all the problems in the universities, here. That’s truly something someone could say.

Apparently, she can’t bring you a drink, sorry Lisa.

T’as du chocolat chaud?

Emma's reactions are so great. I love her.

So, Charles rejected Daphné, who cried and left, and neither Emma or Manon are going to try to find her? send her a message? It still doesn’t make a lot of sense, like in Skam.

Yann and Emma are cute.

Ok so Charles lies to the policemen.

Everyone says goodbye to Charles. I don’t know if it’s a French thing or not, but I was surprised that nobody said bye to William when I first watched Skam, so it does make sense to me. He’s so friendly with everyone, too.

Yann and Emma are surprisingly friendly with him. I love the little interactions between them.

It’s not a big deal, but you can guess that part was a bit improvised because Charles says they can go to Léo’s and you can hear Yann (Léo in real life) saying “Yes you can” and laughing.

Noora, Manon..... Linn/Lisa explicitly told you they were staying home. So you can go home without Eskild/Mika. You just don’t want to.

Charles’ smile when he tells Alex and the girls to go, though.

I love that he acknowledges the girls' existence.

I miss Chris

Manon, you didn’t even try to call Emma? but okay.

Charles, unsurprisingly, lied to the policemen because his dad is in London and her mother is in the 16th district with one of her new boyfriends. The fact that he thought of lying, and corrected himself, shows how unusual his situation is. And “one of her new boyfriends” is... interesting.

Charles is so cute when she asks for hot chocolate.

Enfin seul avec toi

The talk about Charles’ mother is interesting, like in og because... why would you ask someone why they don’t live with their parents (especially when you don’t either) and why are you expecting a ‘great’ answer? if Charles doesn’t live with his mom, it surely is because their relationship is not great. He won’t sit on the couch and tell you everything that happened in his life and lead him in this situation. So he goes straight to the point. ‘she’s a bitch”. And like, I get Manon’s reaction because yes, it’s violent and he shouldn’t use that term, and even less about his mom. But when someone says that about their mom, is it really fair to defend the mom, even when you don’t know why he’s using that term? I mean... Manon doesn’t know the whole story. She doesn’t even ask. So, yes, that term is not great. But the fact that it’s the first word that comes to his mind is a bit more concerning, at least to me. Ok, Charles is a jerk. but for a guy to say casually that his mother is a bitch, there has to be some dark history. I don’t know. Defending someone you don’t know just in the name of feminism, in this context, doesn’t seem necessary to me, but that’s just me. I get it, but at the same time....eh.

Manon is angry because she asked him about his mom and he answered? okay?

Like Noora with William, she doesn’t believe him,

I love how playful Charles actually is. He respects some boundaries but still teases her and answers her back and forth.

Manon, in case you didn’t notice, you’re flirting with him.

“sometimes, even before the end of the first verse” Charles, I love you.

Manon, you asked him to show you his technique. You asked you received.

Great line, Charles.

she doesn’t even hesitate to lie, though.

Their faces at the end, aaah.

Tu m’aimes bien

Who goes to bed at 23:36? Not me, that’s sure,

Manon, if you don’t want him to know you like him, you should have taken his offer to sleep on the couch.

Doesn’t Nicolas have a room?

the thing about the bed being all his etc is funny in every language.

The limit!!!! Manon! Look at her facing him when she says that. She just put a single pillow between them????’

‘I THOUGHT YOU WERE IN FAVOR OF THE ABOLITION OF BORDERS’

I probably will never get over that sentence. that was so... witty? funny. I’m sorry, but... like... really.

Manon, it’s okay, we all looked at him.

‘I saw you looking at me’ wink wink.

he seems so happy when he says she likes him, it’s so sweet.

‘the border, the border’ still not over it, I’m sorry

Manon’s face... oops?

their faces with Ready for love playing in the backgroud are so telling.

We should also talk about the number of books Charles has in his apartment. We really should. I know it’s part of a typical parisian apartment’s aesthetic but, still, it makes his apartment feel more 'alive’. According to Alexia, Manon has always a book with her, so that’s interesting. I wish they had talked about it.

#skamfr

23 notes · View notes

avarp · 3 years

Text

Morningstar (DEMO) (SPOILERS AHEAD)

Hello everybody, Sarah Rose here, I am going to share with you a Demo Fanfiction of the Netflix series Lucifer, this is the story of Luci Morningstar, the daughter of a detective and a devil (Lucifer), Luci is 15, the only problem is she doesn't know the history of her family and that she would one day gain powers of her own. On the night of her 16th birthday, her powers reveal themselves and they get out of control, she pushes herself into the past before she was even born.

ps. please do not steal my ideas or ocs! Also I'm bad at Grammer, I'm working on it.

------------------------------------------

My name is Luci Morningstar, and I am the daughter of the Devil, well technically his name is Lucifer Morningstar, anyway… my whole life I grew up thinking that I had a completely normal life, I knew the Devil existed and lived on earth and I knew what Heaven was, but I never thought, I would become this thing, whatever I am. when I found out I felt like I was losing myself, my true self, but I also felt like my true self wasn’t really who I was inside. “And what about your family Luci?” She nodded looking down a little “Before all this, I had the perfect family, a sister that is always looking out for me but was never exactly perfect..”, and my best friend Charlie wasn’t being reckless” The Doctor looked at her “and what about your father? What’s your relationship with Lucifer?” Luci looked down as she played with her necklace “That’s complicated” The Doctor looked at her with sincerity “Luci look at me and tell me when this all started” Luci looked up at her “My 16th birthday”.

Luci walked downstairs all dressed for her free day of doing nothing, She walked over to the counter to pour some cereal as her parents walked downstairs about to head out to work “wait wait, Dad, Can I please go to work with you today?” Lucifer thought for a moment “hmm let me think” he then looked over at the Detective “ask your mother” he said rather quickly as he grabbed the car keys. Luci sighed knowing her mom was going to say no “fine I’ll just stay here with Trixie and… do something” she sits down on the couch, Lucifer kisses her head “bye Angel” he says before they both leave.

Luci looked around as soon as they left she sighed and called out for her sister “Trixie!? Can you come down here please!”, Soon enough her sister comes down “what’s up? Did they leave?” she said mischievously, Luci nodded and stood up “let’s go get dressed and we’ll go somewhere fun” Trixie nodded in agreement “sounds like a plan”. Luci walked upstairs to her room she walked over to her closet and noticed the window was open she looks at it for a moment but just shrugs ignoring it. She made her way downstairs all ready to go out, she stops into her parents’ bedroom while whistling a tune, she bends down to open the safe, once she cracked the code which was her birthday “5-6-22” she opened it pulling out a gold credit card she smiles putting it in her bag gently.

Luci made her way downstairs, “okay Trix you know the rules, and the rules are stupid, so like usual I grabbed my fathers’ golden card, and we are going to do whatever the hell we want” she smirked, Trixie smiled wide “Oh hell yeah I’m definitely in” she grabs her car keys, they both walk out to the car.

Luci opens the car door jumping inside the driver’s seat, as she started the car, Trixie plugged her phone into the Bluetooth “wow this car is so old” Luci rolled her eyes as she looked in the mirror pulling out of the driveway “oh please respect the classics, I just pray I get a car like this one day” Trixie smiled “yeah and if you do you are definitely letting me drive it” she said in a cheeky tone. Luci laughed lightly “are you kidding? as soon as I get a car we are hitting the road and heading to Las Vegas” Trixie smiled as she leaned back with her sunglasses on watching all the clouds pass by.

Luci pulls up to the parking spot that was empty in front of the Diner, she got out of the car along with her sister, walking into the Diner they both sat down, Luci looks at the Menu “jeez I’m starving, now let’s see what we have for breakfast” she smiled, Trixie points out the milkshake “how do milkshakes for breakfast sound?’ Luci smiled brightly “sounds like my type of breakfast and with that-“. The waitress walked up to their table “Welcome to the smokehouse I will be your waitress today, have you decided yet?’ Luci looked up at her “I will have a double bacon cheeseburger with a strawberry Milkshake” she smiled sweetly.

Trixie spoke up “and I will have a burger with a chocolate milkshake, the waitress smiled “ill be back as soon as possible,” she said as she walked away, Luci moved her Menu off to the side “so I was thinking after we eat we could go shopping downtown” Trixie nodded “oo yeah I could definitely use some new tops, especially for….work”. Luci smiled and shook her head “speaking of..how is work exactly? I know you always come home super stressed:” Trixie didn’t look like she wanted to confess about her workday” she finally gave up “look. if I tell you this you cannot tell mom and you definitely can’t tell Lucifer” Luci shook her head eagerly “well come on spit it out”. Trixie sighed and looked up at her “I quit my job… and I’m going back to college” she said with a sigh. Luci looked at her “that’s great… but you don’t look happy”. “Trixie,” she said seriously and grabbed her arm “tell me what’s bothering you” she looked at her like she was compelled to tell her she almost had tears in her eyes “i..i” she shook her head fighting herself “I feel like I’m a disappointment”

Luci shook her head “what are you talking about?” she sighed letting go of her sister’s arm “my dad..he would be so disappointed in me” she looked at Trixie “hey don’t think like that I never met him…but I know that he would love you no matter what” she sighed as their food came " I’m a college drop-out and I dropped out of high school once and I’ve been arrested like 10 times..or more, while you…you’re” Luci looked at her confused, Trixie then sighed “just don’t be like me okay?” Luci shook her head “I promise” she said as she then started to eat her burger quickly. Sometimes she didn’t quite understand her sister

#lucifer #netflix #lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #oc #fanfiction #wattpad

0 notes

thetrumpdebacle · 6 years

Link

When she heard the news story of the 13 siblings allegedly held captive in their California home by their parents, Susanne Reisenbichler’s said her first reaction was, “Oh no. Somebody else.”

Interested in California Captivity Case?

Add California Captivity Case as an interest to stay up to date on the latest California Captivity Case news, video, and analysis from ABC News.

Reisenbichler and her sons Govinda Angulo and Josef Reisenbichler said hearing the reports on the Turpin siblings brought back memories of what they experienced while being confined to a cramped New York City apartment until just a few years ago.

The Riverside County Sheriff’s Department said 13 siblings — ages 2 to 29 — were allegedly being held captive at their home in Perris, California, by their parents David and Louis Turpin. When discovered, several of the children were “shackled to their beds with chains and padlocks in dark and foul-smelling surroundings,” the sheriff’s office said.

Authorities were alerted to the situation when a 17-year-old girl, who apparently escaped from the home, called 911 and said her 12 brothers and sisters were still being held captive there, the sheriff’s office said.

The parents David Turpin, 57, and Louise Turpin, 49, have each been charged with 12 counts of torture, 12 counts of false imprisonment, seven counts of abuse of a dependent adult and six counts of child abuse. David Turpin was also charged with one count of a lewd act on a child under the age of 14 by force, fear or duress. They have pleaded not guilty.

“I was horrified, and beyond that, it brought just a flood of emotions and memories and thoughts of my own experience and my children’s experience,” Reisenbichler told ABC News’ “20/20.” “It really was more than shocking. It was just so many emotions at once: a lot of compassion and empathy and also understanding and knowing exactly what they went through, what those children were feeling.”

Susanne Reisenbichler says since the documentary “The Wolfpack” was released she’s been working on her memoir and writing children’s books.

“It definitely struck a lot of chords throughout the years since that story has been told from our family. I’ve done what I can to put it away, but it’s brought back a lot of memories,” Govina Angulo, now 25, told “20/20.”

For more than a decade, Reisenbichler shared an apartment with her now-estranged husband Oscar Angulo, her oldest child and only daughter Visnu and her sons Govinda, his twin Narayana (who now goes by Josef), Mukunda, Bhagavan, Krsna (who now goes by Glenn) and Jagadesh (who now goes by Eddie).

Oscar Angulo, a Hare Krishna devotee from Peru, forbade his children and wife from leaving their apartment and held the front door’s only key. Aside from the few trips outside allowed for appointments or strictly controlled visits to New York tourist destinations, the children had no contact with the outside world.

ABC News

Twin bothers Govinda Angulo and Josef Reisenbichler reflected on their life since leaving the small New York City apartment they were confined to for over a decade.

“Our father was pretty paranoid about a lot of things,” Govinda said.

On the 16th floor of a public housing development which the family of nine called home in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, the children were raised in four small rooms, homeschooled by their mother. Neighbors told “20/20” they didn’t see the children.

By the time the children had reached their mid-teens, Angulo had covered the windows of the apartment with blankets, and claustrophobia began to take a hold on the brothers. It wasn’t until one day in 2010, that Mukunda, the third youngest who was 15 at the time, found the courage to step outside alone for the first time.

Though her family had more freedom and less harsh conditions than the Turpin siblings allegedly lived in, Reisenbichler said she found similarities between her family’s experiences and that of the Turpins.

“When I heard the 17-year-old, I thought, ‘Mukunda was 15 when he broke out, so it’s a very close age,’” Reisenbichler said.

Magnolia Pictures

Until five years ago, the six Angulo brothers were rarely let outside.

“I can’t, you know, speak for every family who’s gone through similar experiences. But I guess … with anybody who’s … confined you only know people from that world that you’ve been confined to,” Josef, now 25, said. “I think we knew in our gut that our situation was not right and we just didn’t fully understand it and but… because you have only each other to reach out to and to make the best you can out of it with whatever you can because a bond happens.”

After the boys, known as “the Wolfpack,” started leaving the apartment more often, they eventually gained more freedom to explore the outside world.

For years, the family didn’t have any outside friends until the brothers met director Crystal Moselle, who befriended them after she saw the boys walking down the streets of the Manhattan with their waist-long dark hair and sunglasses.

Moselle turned the family’s story into the documentary, “The Wolfpack,” which debuted at the Sundance Film Festival in 2015. And their lives haven’t been the same since.

Reisenbichler said it’s a complex question to ask why her children didn’t leave their homes sooner.

“Most people have that thought, ‘Why didn’t you leave? Why didn’t you get out?’ And that is whether the questioner realizes it or not,” Reisenbichler said. “It’s projecting blame onto the victim or the survivor, you know, asking, ‘Why didn’t you do this?’ Because it’s a very, very complex situation and it’s not easy to understand.”

Govinda Angulo

The Angulo brothers who starred in the documentary “The Wolfpack” say they continue to adjust to life outside of their apartment.

Josef said it’s fear of the outside world fostered by his father that made it especially hard to leave.

“That’s why it’s hard to break out and why you hold back for so long and why you hold back from any kind of help that may be possible, because it’s the conditioning, whether you realize it or whether you feel in your gut that it’s wrong. It’s very hard to break that especially when you become used to it your whole life,” Josef said.

Josef said that as his family met more people and slowly got to know more of what it was outside of their apartment, he feared what would happen in the future.

“’Do we go back? Do we break away from it forever?’” Josef recalled thinking. “It’s a break in your reality and you don’t know what’s going to happen and you don’t really know especially how to feel about it. You don’t know that you feel that this is a good thing or if this could just be a road to some [worse] thing.”

Though they said their lives have since changed for the better, Govinda said the experience will always be a part of them.

“In a way, it’s shaped us for who we are… I don’t know how we would’ve turned out if it had been something with the Turpins we went through,” Govinda said.

Govinda Angulo

Govinda Angulo, left, and two of his brothers are pictured together riding the train.

Reisenbichler said she watched as her sons overcame the hurdles of learning “how the everyday little details of a normal society are carried out.”

“They had to learn directions and how to go places and what subway lines went where and how to pay for a subway card and how to use the subway card. That was a really big thing, and just things like paying for food in the grocery store or going to buy a notebook … let alone preparing for job applications,” Reisenbichler said. “If you’ve never seen it and you’ve never dealt with it, it’s overwhelming. And I really have to give my children a lot of credit in how extremely well they’ve just handled everything, and just, you know, bounced through and they’ve just embraced all of the things that they’ve had to learn and catch up on, that people who are 10 years old already know normally in our society.”

“Some of the hardest adjustments I think mostly is having personal connections with other people because you feel you don’t,” Josef said. “Your own reality and our reality was so far removed.”

“In reality, we’re still adjusting,” Govinda said.

Today, many of the brothers have moved out of the apartment, and Oscar Angulo no longer lives there.

“My husband is no longer living at the apartment, and there was a big celebration for that. And I am still little by little continuing to work on a memoir of my life and my time with my children. And I’m also in the middle of working on some children’s books,” Reisenbichler said.

Both Josef and Govinda share an apartment with a friend.

When asked if they had a message for the Turpin siblings, Reisenbichler said, “I would like to say to the family that, don’t lose faith and don’t lose hope.”

“And however hard it will be, don’t be afraid to connect, to reach to people,” Govinda said.

via The Trump Debacle

#IFTTT #The Trump Debacle

9 notes · View notes

inspobyphae · 4 years

Text

100 questions

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name? “phaedra chiara cattaneo.”

Where and when were you born? “i was born on the amalfi coast july 16th, 1995.”

Who are/were your parents? "my dad, agostino cattaneo, is a shipping heir from italy and my mom, sophia lamond cattaneo, is an artist, specifically a painter! she kept her other last name as her middle name because she had a name before she met my father. they’re wonderful, oh god! i could go on for an entire hour about the both of them. they met in santorini around new years eve back in like 1993. it was one of those whirlwind loves, you know? they met and it was like fireworks were going off from every angle of the earth. they fell madly in love and got married on new years eve 1994 going into 1995, no one knew my mom was already pregnant with me but she was! my grandparents on my dad’s side were super pissed mostly because they’re traditional old italians whereas my mother was a pretty, young girl from australia who fell in love with a man like, 15 years her senior...they quickly got over it, though. my mom did everything to make them happy! she learned italian, she married him before having me! ugh, i’m going to text them now.”

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? “i have one half-sibling from my dad’s first marriage when he was just 18. we’re sort of close, but i rarely see him! he’s an investment banker, totally opposite of what i do! he never misses an opening show of my tour, though. what a sweetie.”

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. “i live in beverly hills with my three dogs and my best friend actually moved in when everything happened a year and a half ago. my dogs are john jeanes but jj for short in honor of...well, you know! then i have severus & minerva from harry potter, but i call them sevy and mini! my house is super earthy on the outside, it has vines growing up for an aesthetic look and privacy. the inside is more modern.”

What is your occupation? “i’m a singer!”

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks. “so, i’m a tiny gal! i’m only five feet tall, it’s quite rude to ask about weight, though don't you think? silly! my natural hair is brown and my eyes are hazel. i’m italian and australian, thanks to my lovely parents! my style? it’s all over the place, but i love comfy clothes that are bigger when i’m not on stage cause i kind of look like a bad bitch on stage or for photoshoots. i also wear a lot of jj’s clothes that i have because they make me feel good and happy. i kind of just wear whatever i feel like wearing. i do love a cute dress, too! i have a ton of tattoos?! i recently got a butterfly on my arm. i’ve got honeymoon on my finger after my song! i’ve got a bunch of random finger tattoos, a movie character on my arm, stars and moon on my hand, and also baby on my arm.”

To which social class do you belong? “definitely the upper class, by birth and by my own career.”

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? “i honestly, don't? unless you count depression as a disease because i see it that way. i’m doing my best to work through that, though.”

Are you right- or left-handed? “right handed!”

What does your voice sound like? “this is my speaking voice and y’all obviously know my singing voice!”

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? “i say whatever a lot, next, okay, baby, all of those! i also say blessed at least twice a day.”

What do you have in your pockets? “i have some chapstick in my left pocket and $20 in my right.”

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? “i squint my eyes a lot because i should wear glasses, haha.”

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general? “amazing, wonderful, blessed.”

What is your earliest memory? “my earliest memory is running around on the coast when i was like three with my neighbor boyfriend who totally wasn't my real boyfriend but i loved him.”

How much schooling have you had? “i graduated high school.”

Did you enjoy school? “i did, honestly. some classes more than others. i was trash at mathematics, always. thrived at history and languages, though.”

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? “through trial and error but also from my mother.”

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. “my mother!”

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family?

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? “i wanted to be whatever i could be! it ranged from a ballerina to going to the olympics to a princess.”

As a child, what were your favorite activities? “i loved to dance, run around outdoors, explore new places.”

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? “i was very impatient which has changed now! i also loved to say no, my mom joked that was my first word.”

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? “i was rather loved as a child, thank god. i had three close friends, one was my cousin adelaide! we’re still extremely fucking close to this day. the other was kate drummond who lives with me now and then tyson warby aka ty! we’re all extremely close still, not a day goes by we don't talk.”

When and with whom was your first kiss? “my first kiss was greg parsons on the school yard in middle school. so embarrassing, but it was a dare! i never turn down a dare!”

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? “i’m not a virgin. i lost it to my friend boyfriend who was a legendary rockstar’s son! his name is blue, y’all surely know him. i love him still, but not in that same way. he’s always the first one to check on me throughout my day.”

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? “probably meeting jj.”

Who has had the most influence on you? “my mother, jj, and myself.”

What do you consider your greatest achievement? “winning a grammy!”

What is your greatest regret? “my biggest regret is going to paris in august 2018.”

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? “the most evil thing i’ve done was in high school and there was a girl who did not get along with me and i completely embarrassed her by having her kicked out of a party. she wasn't even doing anything, we just had beef.”

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? “nope!”

When was the time you were the most frightened? “when jj died.”

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? “i fall down on stage often, honestly.”

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? “i’d change going to paris. i don't think you really need to know why because that’s rather fucking obvious.”

What is your best memory? “there was one night after the academy awards that jj and i were a bit drunk at home and this beautiful song came on over the speakers. it was an alt-j song! we were up on the rooftop and he just took my hand and started to slow dance with me. i remember laying my head into his chest and crying, i wasn't sure why i was crying but i was and he was so tender with me.”

What is your worst memory? “i don't want to answer this.”

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? “i try to be the most optimistic i can be.”

What is your greatest fear? “i have faced that, it was losing a loved one.”

What are your religious views? “there’s a higher power, but i do not believe that it is a man in the sky. i don't shame anyone for believing what they do, though. it’s everyone’s world to build themselves and so it’s fine if you think what you think.”

What are your political views? “next.”

What are your views on sex? “it’s beautiful and essential.”

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? “i think i would only be able to if it were in self-defense.”

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? “purposely break someones heart! that’s pure evil energy.”

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? “yes, absofuckinglutely yes!”

What do you believe makes a successful life? “being dedicated and loving whatever it is you're trying to be successful at.”

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? “completely honest. i try not to let the public know too much because i like to keep my life a bit private, but i’m generally honest when asked about things.”

Do you have any biases or prejudices? “i am biased towards my family because they are the best.”

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? “pose nude, i know that i could do it but i do not want the backlash.”

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? “i’d probably die to let jj come back, that’s weird isn't it?”

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? “i’m a sweet little baby and i know it. i think that life is so fragile and you absolutely never understand what others are going through to be the way that they are, so why waste energy being a bitch? don’t get me wrong, i will stand my ground given that i need to, but in general until i am tested i am polite and sweet.”

Who is the most important person in your life, and why? “i would say my dogs because they’re literally my emotional support! my mother and father as well, as my close friend group.”

Who is the person you respect the most, and why? “i respect me the most because i have been through the ringer and deserve the best life i can have.”

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. “i have been in love multiple times. each love is grand and very different, though i have not felt love since jj’s ascension to heaven or the after life. i haven't allowed myself to feel that way, though. i know i am keeping myself in a box over that, it’s confining and keeping me from my full life but i am not ready yet.”

What do you look for in a potential lover? “someone tender and who can love all of me, my past included. i need someone who understands i will always feel deeply for jj and all things in my life and someone who can deal with my emotions.”

How close are you to your family? “very!”

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? “i have not, aside from my dogs. i will eventually love to have children, but not right now i have so much more to do before that.”

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? “my mother.”

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? “i do! anyone in my close circle because they have been there for me to protect me before.”

If you died or went missing, who would miss you? “i think that anyone in my life would miss me? i’d love to think that anyways.”

Who is the person you despise the most, and why? “i’m not really sure? maybe the president.”

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? “i tend to avoid it unless it’s something i truly stand up for and believe it and then i will fight for it.”

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? “ definitely! i think that’s a good quality to have.”

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? “i have a love/hate relationship with that? i get anxiety sometimes now but i try to do my best with it. sometimes i’ve got to smoke before dealing with large crowds.”

Do you care what others think of you? “not really, honestly. it’s my life and not theirs, so what is it to them? nothing.”

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? “i like to swim, explore new places, go on hikes! i’ve learned to love cooking, too! it’s something i’ve picked up only in the last like six months or so. i surprisingly like to camp, too. most people don't know that, but it’s nice because paps don't find you in the middle of the desert or the forest! i enjoy going to live music shows or festivals.”

What is your most treasured possession? “i’d say jj’s favorite hoodie!”

What is your favorite color? “i like soft purple.”

What is your favorite food? “avocados! i think i could turn into one with how much i eat them.”

What, if anything, do you like to read? “i like to read fiction novels as well as historical books.”

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? “everything!!! i love art in any and every form.”

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? “i do smoke and i do drink. i have used drugs in the past, but not often especially after jj’s death.”

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? “on my couch with my dogs or in my backyard drinking.”

What makes you laugh? “i love to laugh, i try to laugh at most everything at hand because there is humor in everything.”

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? “racism! i cannot believe it still exists. it’s disgusting.”

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself?

How do you deal with stress?

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan?

What are your pet peeves?

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted?

What is your greatest strength as a person?

What is your greatest weakness?

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

Are you generally introverted or extroverted?

Are you generally organized or messy?

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at.

Do you like yourself?

What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…)

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime?

Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

If you could choose, how would you want to die?

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left.

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

What three words best describe your personality?

What three words would others probably use to describe you?

If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…)

0 notes

comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog · 6 years

Text

Wendy Testaburger

I’d let Wendy kick my ass and thank her afterwards.

Wendy has been accepted! Please send in a blog and a face claim if you want to a featured on the main blog!

out of character info

Name/Alias: Mak Pronouns: she/her Age: 20 Join Our Discord: Yes/No? Sure! @ohmak#5799 Timezone: CST Activity: 6-7, and probably higher the closer we get to winter break. Triggers: none to date, really. Password: dildo, lmao

Character that you’re applying for: Wendy Testaburger Favourite ships for your character: Wendy/Stan, Wendy/anyone tbh she’s not picky

in character info

Full name: Wendy Testaburger Birthday: April 16th Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Bisexual, female, she/her Age and grade: 17, 12th grade Appearance: Wendy is about 5’4 and weighs approximately 130 pounds. Her signature pink beret sits atop a mess of long dark hair that falls down her back and curls slightly at the ends. She’s average height for her age and her frame is petite in nature. She’s got olive skin that gives her the appearance of a perpetual tan. Wendy has sharp grey eyes that hold a sense of innocence with their wide, doe-like appearance. She’s got a button nose and thin lips with a small yet pointed chin. Wendy’s makeup is typically light and natural, using not much more than mascara and chapstick.

Wendy’s appearance, while sweet in nature, tends to garner attention in a more subtle way. She’s a wallflower. She’s never been the jaw-dropper of her class (like her best friend,) but takes pride in her own appearance with a little help from Bebe. She dresses nicely every day per the request of her parents, though every once in a while she’ll wear something a bit bolder to spite her parents: and when she does, she’s sure to turn heads. Wendy is your ‘girl next door.’ She’s the type of girl you can bring home to your parents, take to your family dinners, and have around to keep your parents from questioning about your high school antics.

Personality: Wendy is a bright student who puts more effort than probably necessary into her schoolwork. She’s strong-willed and stubborn, and while she typically can keep a level head, she is notorious for letting her anger get the best of her. She is kind and generous, willing to give what she can, when she can. Sometimes people take advantage of this. She takes into account everyone’s opinion before making a decision that affects the group, but isn’t afraid to shut someone down if their opinion is harmful or isn’t beneficial in the slightest. Wendy is a rule follower. She’s been called a ‘goody-two-shoes’ more times than she can count and tends to respect authority unless absolutely necessary. Wendy is known to be the ‘mom friend.’ She’s constantly worrying over her friends and ensuring that they’re doing okay in their classes and getting enough sleep at night. In fact, she worries more about her friends than she does herself. Wendy is incredibly active in extracurricular activities at all. She is bubbly about being active in her community and takes pride in being Student Body President and a member of the cheerleading team.

While she may not admit it, Wendy has found herself victim to what her parents would define as ‘peer-pressure.’ She doesn’t see it that way. She’s a good girl for sure, but is always willing to get into risky business with her friends if it means that she isn’t a downer. After all, Bebe is her best friend. How can she be so prude when the life of the party plays such a vital role in her life? Let’s just say, she’s a fun drunk to be around. She’s allowed to let loose the person she isn’t allowed to be during the day due to her parents’ watchful eyes and the time constraints per all her extracurricular activities. She’s got a wild heart and hopes that by doing well in school and getting accepted into her dream college, she’ll finally be able to get her parents off her back and finally be the bold and independent person she dreams of being.

History: Wendy’s childhood could be described, at best, as average. She grew up in a loving home with two loving parents and a grandmother that was always there when she needed her. She may not admit it, but she holds a deep-rooted resentment for her parents and their constant desire for her to be more. Because of this, Wendy has made straight A’s since the second grade and is as involved in extracurriculars as she can be without being too detrimental to her health. She’s fluent in three languages and plays multiple instruments, yet still feels like her parents expect more of her. But, she will chastise herself, she cannot complain. She has never gone without and her parents have always provided the best for Wendy. She hates to say it, but she errs on the side of spoiled. Her parents make up for their endless pushing by buying her all the nicest things. Wendy can’t help but feel that her parents are trying to buy her love.

Middle school was a humiliating time for Wendy Testaburger. She’d developed acne and had to wear glasses and the other kids would never let her forget it. She was a true activist and always tried to educate her peers on important issues in the hopes that she could bond with the other kids over mutual interests. But despite her efforts to build friendships she was bullied relentlessly. She felt like the only person she could count on was her best friend. With Bebe giving her constant assurance and fiery pep-talks, Wendy finally developed a backbone and stood up for herself. She will never forget the power she felt when she dumped her lunch all over the same girl who’d been bullying her for four years. Wendy laughed at the crying girl and spat at her feet before walking away. Nobody messed with Wendy after that. After that, she refined her attitude and walked with a purpose, and is now far more outgoing than she ever was before.

High school, on the other hand, has been wonderful for Wendy. She’s got a nice car, makes good grades and works on her studies relentlessly, even if it means losing sleep and forgetting to eat. She’s popular among her peers and her friendships have never been stronger. She’s stayed single since her relationship with Stan, claiming that she just doesn’t have time to cultivate a relationship with anyone. She’s made it perfectly clear to all that try that she’s perfectly happy being single. Maybe if she says it enough times it’ll become true. She can only hope.

Sample paragraph: “The cheerleading team, huh?” Wendy’s mom eyed her with a raised brow. Wendy nodded excitedly, her face breaking into a beaming smile. “Yeah! I’ve already reorganized my schedule and have made time for practices and games in between study sessions with my friends and Student Council! Aren’t you proud of me?” Wendy’’s smile faltered slightly as she watched her mother’s unwavering expression of incredulity. “Wendy, you know that the debate team is accepting applications starting next week, and your father and I really wanted you to apply, we talked about this.”

Wendy huffed and crossed her arms, leaning back into her chair. The two women were sitting opposite each other at Tweak Bros. Coffeehouse before school. It was tradition for Wendy and her mother to have coffee or breakfast before school once a week, but Wendy found herself wishing more and more that her mother would give up on the bonding time. “Mom, I know we talked about it, but think about it. Physical activity has been proven to boost dopamine and disciplinary skills. Besides, it’s good for my health. I don’t understand why you’d be upset with this.”

Wendy grabbed her coat and stood. She picked up her coffee and drained the last of it before tossing it into the garbage. Her mother said nothing in return, only sighed and grabbed her purse. “I suppose it’s time to get you to school, now.” Wendy nodded without looking her mother in the eye. This was a stale argument between her and her parents. It was never about the same thing specifically, but always revolving around the same theme: college. It was like nothing Wendy did was good enough for her parents. “I love you, sweetie. Now let’s hurry, we don’t want you to be late for your poetry club meeting before class.”

Headcanons:

Wendy has an enthusiastic appreciation for art.

She drives a brand new Lexus, of which all her friends have dubbed ‘The Mom-mobile.’

When she has the free time, she loves to go sit out at the pond and watch the sky change colors.

She has a bad habit of thinking out loud.

She has a cat named Archibald.

Still a virgin.

Wendy can’t stand when people click their pens. She will NOT hesitate to rip it out of someone’s hand during class to throw it across the room.

Listens to bands ‘you probably haven’t heard of.’

Anything else: Not much!

#application #admin mona #wendy testaburger #south park #submission

5 notes · View notes

sthsdestories · 7 years

Text

Chapter 1: Alice Got Hot

FP Jones was just putting on his jean vest when he heard the familiar sound of Fred Andrew’s van pulling up to his family’s trailer. Before he could even finish getting ready, Fred was already through the front door and collapsed onto his bed.

“Don’t be so fussy FP,” he said, as FP flipped up the collar of his vest.. “It’s the first day of summer before we graduate and we have a lot of living to do before high school is done.”

FP shrugged as he laced up his boots. Sometimes he couldn’t imagine how he and Fred ever became friends. FP was born into a family that had been on the Southside for generations. He was hardened to the bone and he didn’t share Fred’s enthusiasm. Typically, people who come from a broken home didn’t tend to fare too well.

Fred couldn’t really understand him. His family moved to the North side of Riverdale just before his freshman year. The very definition of a nuclear family, Fred came from a good home with loving parents and enough money to get him an old van for his 16th birthday. Soon after starting Riverdale High, Fred got into one fight that landed him on the Riverdale chain gang, as they call it, picking up trash near Sweetwater River. That’s when FP, no stranger to delinquency, met him for the first time. For Fred, their friendship was fated. They bonded instantly, despite Fred’s optimistic outlook on life. Fred liked to tell FP it balanced out FP’s generally gloomy demeanor.

As FP grabbed his house keys and made his way out of his bedroom he heard a long whistle leave Fred’s lips. He turned around and saw Fred staring out the window. “Man, Have you seen Alice Smith? She got hot.”

“Loud-mouthed, mousy Alice Smith?.” FP quickly joined Fred at the window. “I didn’t even know she was back.” To his surprise, Alice had indeed gotten hot. His eyes slowly moved over her body as she jumped out of her dad’s car, swinging a duffel bag behind her. In the year since FP had seen her last, Alice seemed to have matured. Her hips were wider and she had filled out. Her shaved head was now full of brown hair that fell down her back. She was definitely not the gangly girl he had grown up with. Before FP could avert his eyes, Alice raised her head and looked straight at him

------

“Take a photo—it’ll last longer, idiots,” Alice yelled, ignoring her father’s scowl. She had only been back for 20 minutes and she already felt stifled. Not that living in Greendale with her aunt was better. That house was so strict that Alice had actually looked forward to finally coming home, but she wasn’t prepared for what being home meant. All she knew was that she wanted to spend this summer with Maia before they went their separate ways.

She imagined nights full of parties and dancing under the stars. Alice just wanted one perfect summer with her best friend Maia, before everything changed.

“Maia,” Alice said in surprise as she entered her bedroom. “How did you even get in here?” She tossed her bag into the corner and jumped on the bed next Maia, trying to hide the smile that spread across her face.

“Please, how many years have we known each other? I am a master at sneaking into your house by now,” she laughed. “Don’t try to hide your excitement from me, girl. I know living in your aunt’s puritanical house was hell. For one thing, you couldn’t see fabulous me for weeks.” Maia flipped through the pages of a YM she’d taken from her neighbor’s before tossing it on the floor.

Maia and Alice had been inseparable since they were six years old. Some of the other neighborhood kids had been picking on Alice on the way home from school one day, when a tiny afroed girl came out of nowhere. Just as Mustang was about to push Alice down, Maia had gone up to him, half his size, and hit him square in the face. Since then Alice had always admired Maia’s fearless nature, even when it got them into trouble. Even so, despite the consequences, Alice wouldn’t trade her for anything.

“Alice, I—oh, hi Maia,” Mr. Smith spared her a passing glance. “Your mother is going to be late so she won’t be at dinner.” Alice gave him a look of acknowledgement before signaling for him to get out.

“I’ve got plans for Alice tonight anyway, Mr. S,” Maia said with a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t keep her out any later than usual.”

Mr. Smith turned slightly red before leaving the room. He had decided it wasn’t worth his energy to deal with those two, and at any rate he hoped Alice wouldn’t be friends with Maia much longer. He had no idea why his daughter had tied herself to that nobody of a girl. Being stuck living on the Southside was one of his biggest failings, and he couldn’t accept that anyone like Maia could be so proud of living in this dump.

“Plans for me?” Alice asked curiously.

“Yeah, it was supposed to be a surprise but the Whyte Wyrm agreed to host a welcome back party,” Maia told her. “We missed you. This place wasn’t the same without our Angry Alice,” Maia teased . Alice rolled her eyes. She hated that nickname, but she also couldn’t dispute it. Her generally loud and aggressive demeanor was well known.

“And now that your boobs have finally come in, tonight is the night you can get yourself a serpent in training for the summer.”

Maia squawked as Alice pushed her off the bed before going went to her closet to look for something to wear to her surprise party. As if reading her mind, Maia produced the bag she’d brought and unzipped it with a flourish.

“We both know you have nothing to wear to match your new...assets. So, I brought some of my clothes over for you to try on.” Maia pulled out an impressive array of clothes on the bed, giving Alice time to look over each piece.

“I want you to have the welcome back you deserve, so leave the outfit to me,” Maia said as she pulled out a dress and opened her makeup caboodle.

------

It was dusk when Alice and Maia made their way to the Whyte Wyrm.

“Now remember, act surprised,” Maia said, walking a few steps in front of her. They’d spent the entire day perfecting their looks for the party. Maia had convinced Alice to go out in a dress more revealing than she’d usually wear, but she couldn’t deny she felt powerful in it. It felt like the beginning of a perfect night.

Alice saw a face quickly appear in the window of the Whyte Wyrm before the lights turned off. Maia stepped inside first before Alice crossed the threshold to a loud “Surprise!” from all inside. While Alice smirked at them, looking around the room coolly, she couldn’t help her heart from melting at the sight. She hadn’t realized how much she missed this place before being gone for an entire year. This was the first time today she felt truly welcomed back. Her dad couldn’t seem to care less that she was back and her mom didn’t even try to get off work on time. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, it had stung. She pushed those thoughts aside as she made her way around the room.

Michelle, Jimena, and Angela were in a group, as always. They each gave her a brief hug, complimenting her on growing her hair out and catching her up on everything she missed. Apparently, Michelle’s boyfriend had finally been made into a full Serpent, while Jimena and Angela were planning to go to New York for the summer. At her side, Maia handed Alice a cup while she continued her tour through the room. As she greeted everyone in the room she couldn’t help but feeling as though someone was watching her. Out of the corner of her eye, leaning against the wall with a beer dangling from his fingers, was FP Jones. Their eyes met and immediately she froze, her smile turning briefly into a scowl.

Alice and FP’s history wasn’t the greatest. He had been apart of Mustang’s group in school and Alice did her best to kept her distance, but it wasn’t easy when Fred always wanted to hang around Maia.

“Earth to Alice.” Maia was waving her hand in front of Alice’s face. “I get you’re making the rounds, but you’ve been so quiet since you’ve gotten back. You didn’t even tell me about your year in Greendale. We also need to plan our class schedules for next year.” At the mention of school Alice’s expression tightened.

“Can’t we do all that later? Tonight, I just want to enjoy being back.” She took another sip of her drink as Fred approached, with FP trailing behind.

“Maia, looking great as always,” Fred said, sliding next to her. Maia’s head rolled back with a smile.

“Fred, you’re cute for a white boy, but haven’t we been down this road before? In fact, every summer.”

“Well, it is the season,” Fred said as he put his arm around her. “Why don’t we talk about it while I grab you a refill.” Alice watched as the two of them shuffled off in the direction of the bar and out the door.

“Angry Alice. Back from the dead,” FP said.

“Fuckup Jones,” she retorted, pointing a finger at his face. “I see you’re attempting to grow facial hair.” FP shook his head and reached a hand toward her hips. He opened his mouth to say something just as Alice grabbed his wrist. “I suggest if you don’t want to lose that hand, you’ll keep it to yourself.”

FP dropped his hand and shook his head again. “Still as fiery as ever I see.” He sounded more amused than annoyed. Alice let out a small chuckle, standing there examining him. She wasn’t sure why FP was still hanging around, since he and Fred were attached at the hip, but she found she didn’t mind it as much as she had before.

Alice heard the jukebox kick on as the crowd erupted. FP offered his hand to Alice. “Let me be the first to welcome you back with a dance.”

She reluctantly agreed and joined him on the dance floor. As she danced with him, she noticed he was watching her closely. She felt her heartbeat quickening.

Then out of nowhere, Rick appeared and tapped FP on the shoulder. “It’s time,” Rick grunted, motioning to the back room.

FP nodded, leaning down to Alice’s ear. “Thanks for the dance, but I have to go.” Alice nodded wordlessly and watched as he and Rick sauntered off. She knew FP had been doing odd jobs for the Serpents, but maybe he was finally going to get his leather jacket this summer.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Maia joined her on the floor, her deep brown skin glistening. “How was that refill?” Alice asked.

Maia just laughed and pulled Alice closer. “Well, you know how it is, Fred is just such a sweet talker.”

As the next song came on, Alice tried to clear her thoughts and focus on this night. This was the first day of summer after all—no need to worry about things that weren’t going to matter for months.

Right, Alice thought. Nothing is changing. Not yet.

subscribe at https://tinyletter.com/southsidestories

#riverdale #Alice Cooper #fp jones #southside serpents #southside stories #fanfic

3 notes · View notes