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ms-hells-bells · 2 months

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Because senator Kamala Harris is a prosecutor and I am a felon, I have been following her political rise, with the same focus that my younger son tracks Steph Curry threes. Before it was in vogue to criticize prosecutors, my friends and I were exchanging tales of being railroaded by them. Shackled in oversized green jail scrubs, I listened to a prosecutor in a Fairfax County, Va., courtroom tell a judge that in one night I’d single-handedly changed suburban shopping forever. Everything the prosecutor said I did was true — I carried a pistol, carjacked a man, tried to rob two women. “He needs a long penitentiary sentence,” the prosecutor told the judge. I faced life in prison for carjacking the man. I pleaded guilty to that, to having a gun, to an attempted robbery. I was 16 years old. The old heads in prison would call me lucky for walking away with only a nine-year sentence.

I’d been locked up for about 15 months when I entered Virginia’s Southampton Correctional Center in 1998, the year I should have graduated from high school. In that prison, there were probably about a dozen other teenagers. Most of us had lengthy sentences — 30, 40, 50 years — all for violent felonies. Public talk of mass incarceration has centered on the war on drugs, wrongful convictions and Kafkaesque sentences for nonviolent charges, while circumventing the robberies, home invasions, murders and rape cases that brought us to prison.

The most difficult discussion to have about criminal-justice reform has always been about violence and accountability. You could release everyone from prison who currently has a drug offense and the United States would still outpace nearly every other country when it comes to incarceration. According to the Prison Policy Institute, of the nearly 1.3 million people incarcerated in state prisons, 183,000 are incarcerated for murder; 17,000 for manslaughter; 165,000 for sexual assault; 169,000 for robbery; and 136,000 for assault. That’s more than half of the state prison population.

When Harris decided to run for president, I thought the country might take the opportunity to grapple with the injustice of mass incarceration in a way that didn’t lose sight of what violence, and the sorrow it creates, does to families and communities. Instead, many progressives tried to turn the basic fact of Harris’s profession into an indictment against her. Shorthand for her career became: “She’s a cop,” meaning, her allegiance was with a system that conspires, through prison and policing, to harm Black people in America.

In the past decade or so, we have certainly seen ample evidence of how corrupt the system can be: Michelle Alexander’s best-selling book, “The New Jim Crow,” which argues that the war on drugs marked the return of America’s racist system of segregation and legal discrimination; Ava DuVernay’s “When They See Us,” a series about the wrongful convictions of the Central Park Five, and her documentary “13th,” which delves into mass incarceration more broadly; and “Just Mercy,” a book by Bryan Stevenson, a public interest lawyer, that has also been made into a film, chronicling his pursuit of justice for a man on death row, who is eventually exonerated. All of these describe the destructive force of prosecutors, giving a lot of run to the belief that anyone who works within a system responsible for such carnage warrants public shame.

My mother had an experience that gave her a different perspective on prosecutors — though I didn’t know about it until I came home from prison on March 4, 2005, when I was 24. That day, she sat me down and said, “I need to tell you something.” We were in her bedroom in the townhouse in Suitland, Md., that had been my childhood home, where as a kid she’d call me to bring her a glass of water. I expected her to tell me that despite my years in prison, everything was good now. But instead she told me about something that happened nearly a decade earlier, just weeks after my arrest. She left for work before the sun rose, as she always did, heading to the federal agency that had employed her my entire life. She stood at a bus stop 100 feet from my high school, awaiting the bus that would take her to the train that would take her to a stop near her job in the nation’s capital. But on that morning, a man yanked her into a secluded space, placed a gun to her head and raped her. When she could escape, she ran wildly into the 6 a.m. traffic.

My mother’s words turned me into a mumbling and incoherent mess, unable to grasp how this could have happened to her. I knew she kept this secret to protect me. I turned to Google and searched the word “rape” along with my hometown and was wrecked by the violence against women that I found. My mother told me her rapist was a Black man. And I thought he should spend the rest of his years staring at the pockmarked walls of prison cells that I knew so well.

The prosecutor’s job, unlike the defense attorney’s or judge’s, is to do justice. What does that mean when you are asked by some to dole out retribution measured in years served, but blamed by others for the damage incarceration can do? The outrage at this country’s criminal-justice system is loud today, but it hasn’t led us to develop better ways of confronting my mother’s world from nearly a quarter-century ago: weekends visiting her son in a prison in Virginia; weekdays attending the trial of the man who sexually assaulted her.

We said goodbye to my grandmother in the same Baptist church that, in June 2019, Senator Kamala Harris, still pursuing the Democratic nomination for president, went to give a major speech about why she became a prosecutor. I hadn’t been inside Brookland Baptist Church for a decade, and returning reminded me of Grandma Mary and the eight years of letters she mailed to me in prison. The occasion for Harris’s speech was the annual Freedom Fund dinner of the South Carolina State Conference of the N.A.A.C.P. The evening began with the Black national anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” and at the opening chord nearly everyone in the room stood. There to write about the senator, I had been standing already and mouthed the words of the first verse before realizing I’d never sung any further.

Each table in the banquet hall was filled with folks dressed in their Sunday best. Servers brought plates of food and pitchers of iced tea to the tables. Nearly everyone was Black. The room was too loud for me to do more than crouch beside guests at their tables and scribble notes about why they attended. Speakers talked about the chapter’s long history in the civil rights movement. One called for the current generation of young rappers to tell a different story about sacrifice. The youngest speaker of the night said he just wanted to be safe. I didn’t hear anyone mention mass incarceration. And I knew in a different decade, my grandmother might have been in that audience, taking in the same arguments about personal agency and responsibility, all the while wondering why her grandbaby was still locked away. If Harris couldn’t persuade that audience that her experiences as a Black woman in America justified her decision to become a prosecutor, I knew there were few people in this country who could be moved.

Describing her upbringing in a family of civil rights activists, Harris argued that the ongoing struggle for equality needed to include both prosecuting criminal defendants who had victimized Black people and protecting the rights of Black criminal defendants. “I was cleareyed that prosecutors were largely not people who looked like me,” she said. This mattered for Harris because of the “prosecutors that refused to seat Black jurors, refused to prosecute lynchings, disproportionately condemned young Black men to death row and looked the other way in the face of police brutality.” When she became a prosecutor in 1990, she was one of only a handful of Black people in her office. When she was elected district attorney of San Francisco in 2003, she recalled, she was one of just three Black D.A.s nationwide. And when she was elected California attorney general in 2010, there were no other Black attorneys general in the country. At these words, the crowd around me clapped. “I knew the unilateral power that prosecutors had with the stroke of a pen to make a decision about someone else’s life or death,” she said.

Harris offered a pair of stories as evidence of the importance of a Black woman’s doing this work. Once, ear hustling, she listened to colleagues discussing ways to prove criminal defendants were gang-affiliated. If a racial-profiling manual existed, their signals would certainly be included: baggy pants, the place of arrest and the rap music blaring from vehicles. She said that she’d told her colleagues: “So, you know that neighborhood you were talking about? Well, I got family members and friends who live in that neighborhood. You know the way you were talking about how folks were dressed? Well, that’s actually stylish in my community.” She continued: “You know that music you were talking about? Well, I got a tape of that music in my car right now.”

The second example was about the mothers of murdered children. She told the audience about the women who had come to her office when she was San Francisco’s D.A. — women who wanted to speak with her, and her alone, about their sons. “The mothers came, I believe, because they knew I would see them,” Harris said. “And I mean literally see them. See their grief. See their anguish.” They complained to Harris that the police were not investigating. “My son is being treated like a statistic,” they would say. Everyone in that Southern Baptist church knew that the mothers and their dead sons were Black. Harris outlined the classic dilemma of Black people in this country: being simultaneously overpoliced and underprotected. Harris told the audience that all communities deserved to be safe.

Among the guests in the room that night whom I talked to, no one had an issue with her work as a prosecutor. A lot of them seemed to believe that only people doing dirt had issues with prosecutors. I thought of myself and my friends who have served long terms, knowing that in a way, Harris was talking about Black people’s needing protection from us — from the violence we perpetrated to earn those years in a series of cells.

Harris came up as a prosecutor in the 1990s, when both the political culture and popular culture were developing a story about crime and violence that made incarceration feel like a moral response. Back then, films by Black directors — “New Jack City,” “Menace II Society,” “Boyz n the Hood” — turned Black violence into a genre where murder and crack-dealing were as ever-present as Black fathers were absent. Those were the years when Representative Charlie Rangel, a Democrat, argued that “we should not allow people to distribute this poison without fear that they might be arrested” and “go to jail for the rest of their natural life.” Those were the years when President Clinton signed legislation that ended federal parole for people with three violent crime convictions and encouraged states to essentially eliminate parole; made it more difficult for defendants to challenge their convictions in court; and made it nearly impossible to challenge prison conditions.

Back then, it felt like I was just one of an entire generation of young Black men learning the logic of count time and lockdown. With me were Anthony Winn and Terell Kelly and a dozen others, all lost to prison during those years. Terell was sentenced to 33 years for murdering a man when he was 17 — a neighborhood beef turned deadly. Home from college for two weeks, a 19-year-old Anthony robbed four convenience stores — he’d been carrying a pistol during three. After he was sentenced by four judges, he had a total of 36 years.

Most of us came into those cells with trauma, having witnessed or experienced brutality before committing our own. Prison, a factory of violence and despair, introduced us to more of the same. And though there were organizations working to get rid of the death penalty, end mandatory minimums, bring back parole and even abolish prisons, there were few ways for us to know that they existed. We suffered. And we felt alone. Because of this, sometimes I reduce my friends’ stories to the cruelty of doing time. I forget that Terell and I walked prison yards as teenagers, discussing Malcolm X and searching for mentors in the men around us. I forget that Anthony and I talked about the poetry of Sonia Sanchez the way others praised DMX. He taught me the meaning of the word “patina” and introduced me to the music of Bill Withers. There were Luke and Fats; and Juvie, who could give you the sharpest edge-up in America with just a razor and comb.

When I left prison in 2005, they all had decades left. Then I went to law school and believed I owed it to them to work on their cases and help them get out. I’ve persuaded lawyers to represent friends pro bono. Put together parole packets — basically job applications for freedom: letters of recommendation and support from family and friends; copies of certificates attesting to vocational training; the record of college credits. We always return to the crimes to provide explanation and context. We argue that today each one little resembles the teenager who pulled a gun. And I write a letter — which is less from a lawyer and more from a man remembering what it means to want to go home to his mother. I write, struggling to condense decades of life in prison into a 10-page case for freedom. Then I find my way to the parole board’s office in Richmond, Va., and try to persuade the members to let my friends see a sunrise for the first time.

Juvie and Luke have made parole; Fats, represented by the Innocence Project at the University of Virginia School of Law, was granted a conditional pardon by Virginia’s governor, Ralph Northam. All three are home now, released just as a pandemic would come to threaten the lives of so many others still inside. Now free, they’ve sent me text messages with videos of themselves hugging their mothers for the first time in decades, casting fishing lines from boats drifting along rivers they didn’t expect to see again, enjoying a cold beer that isn’t contraband.

In February, after 25 years, Virginia passed a bill making people incarcerated for at least 20 years for crimes they committed before their 18th birthdays eligible for parole. Men who imagined they would die in prison now may see daylight. Terell will be eligible. These years later, he’s the mentor we searched for, helping to organize, from the inside, community events for children, and he’s spoken publicly about learning to view his crimes through the eyes of his victim’s family. My man Anthony was 19 when he committed his crime. In the last few years, he’s organized poetry readings, book clubs and fatherhood classes. When Gregory Fairchild, a professor at the Darden School of Business at the University of Virginia, began an entrepreneurship program at Dillwyn Correctional Center, Anthony was among the graduates, earning all three of the certificates that it offered. He worked to have me invited as the commencement speaker, and what I remember most is watching him share a meal with his parents for the first time since his arrest. But he must pray that the governor grants him a conditional pardon, as he did for Fats.

I tell myself that my friends are unique, that I wouldn’t fight so hard for just anybody. But maybe there is little particularly distinct about any of us — beyond that we’d served enough time in prison. There was a skinny light-skinned 15-year-old kid who came into prison during the years that we were there. The rumor was that he’d broken into the house of an older woman and sexually assaulted her. We all knew he had three life sentences. Someone stole his shoes. People threatened him. He’d had to break a man’s jaw with a lock in a sock to prove he’d fight if pushed. As a teenager, he was experiencing the worst of prison. And I know that had he been my cellmate, had I known him the way I know my friends, if he reached out to me today, I’d probably be arguing that he should be free.

But I know that on the other end of our prison sentences was always someone weeping. During the middle of Harris’s presidential campaign, a friend referred me to a woman with a story about Senator Harris that she felt I needed to hear. Years ago, this woman’s sister had been missing for days, and the police had done little. Happenstance gave this woman an audience with then-Attorney General Harris. A coordinated multicity search followed. The sister had been murdered; her body was found in a ravine. The woman told me that “Kamala understands the politics of victimization as well as anyone who has been in the system, which is that this kind of case — a 50-year-old Black woman gone missing or found dead — ordinarily does not get any resources put toward it.” They caught the man who murdered her sister, and he was sentenced to 131 years. I think about the man who assaulted my mother, a serial rapist, because his case makes me struggle with questions of violence and vengeance and justice. And I stop thinking about it. I am inconsistent. I want my friends out, but I know there is no one who can convince me that this man shouldn’t spend the rest of his life in prison.

My mother purchased her first single-family home just before I was released from prison. One version of this story is that she purchased the house so that I wouldn’t spend a single night more than necessary in the childhood home I walked away from in handcuffs. A truer account is that by leaving Suitland, my mother meant to burn the place from memory.

I imagined that I had singularly introduced my mother to the pain of the courts. I was wrong. The first time she missed work to attend court proceedings was to witness the prosecution of a kid the same age as I was when I robbed a man. He was probably from Suitland, and he’d attempted to rob my mother at gunpoint. The second time, my mother attended a series of court dates involving me, dressed in her best work clothes to remind the prosecutor and judge and those in the courtroom that the child facing a life sentence had a mother who loved him. The third time, my mother took off days from work to go to court alone and witness the trial of the man who raped her and two other women. A prosecutor’s subpoena forced her to testify, and her solace came from knowing that prison would prevent him from attacking others.

After my mother told me what had happened to her, we didn’t mention it to each other again for more than a decade. But then in 2018, she and I were interviewed on the podcast “Death, Sex & Money.” The host asked my mother about going to court for her son’s trial when he was facing life. “I was raped by gunpoint,” my mother said. “It happened just before he was sentenced. So when I was going to court for Dwayne, I was also going for a court trial for myself.” I hadn’t forgotten what happened, but having my mother say it aloud to a stranger made it far more devastating.

On the last day of the trial of the man who raped her, my mother told me, the judge accepted his guilty plea. She remembers only that he didn’t get enough time. She says her nose began to bleed. When I asked her what she would have wanted to happen to her attacker, she replied, “That I’d taken the deputy’s gun and shot him.”

Harris has studied crime-scene and autopsy photos of the dead. She has confronted men in court who have sexually assaulted their children, sexually assaulted the elderly, scalped their lovers. In her 2009 book, “Smart on Crime,” Harris praised the work of Sunny Schwartz — creator of the Resolve to Stop the Violence Project, the first restorative-justice program in the country to offer services to offenders and victims, which began at a jail in San Francisco. It aims to help inmates who have committed violent crimes by giving them tools to de-escalate confrontations. Harris wrote a bill with a state senator to ensure that children who witness violence can receive mental health treatment. And she argued that safety is a civil right, and that a 60-year sentence for a series of restaurant armed robberies, where some victims were bound or locked in freezers, “should tell anyone considering viciously preying on citizens and businesses that they will be caught, convicted and sent to prison — for a very long time.”

Politicians and the public acknowledge mass incarceration is a problem, but the lengthy prison sentences of men and women incarcerated during the 1990s have largely not been revisited. While the evidence of any prosecutor doing work on this front is slim, as a politician arguing for basic systemic reforms, Harris has noted the need to “unravel the decades-long effort to make sentencing guidelines excessively harsh, to the point of being inhumane”; criticized the bail system; and called for an end to private prisons and criticized the companies that charge absurd rates for phone calls and electronic-monitoring services.

In June, months into the Covid-19 pandemic, and before she was tapped as the vice-presidential nominee, I had the opportunity to interview Harris by phone. A police officer’s knee on the neck of George Floyd, choking the life out of him as he called for help, had been captured on video. Each night, thousands around the world protested. During our conversation, Harris told me that as the only Black woman in the United States Senate “in the midst of the killing of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery,” countless people had asked for stories about her experiences with racism. Harris said that she was not about to start telling them “about my world for a number of reasons, including you should know about the issue that affects this country as part of the greatest stain on this country.” Exhausted, she no longer answered the questions. I imagined she believes, as Toni Morrison once said, that “the very serious function of racism” is “distraction. It keeps you from doing your work.”

But these days, even in the conversations that I hear my children having, race suffuses so much. I tell Harris that my 12-year-old son, Micah, told his classmates and teachers: “As you all know, my dad went to jail. Shouldn’t the police who killed Floyd go to jail?” My son wanted to know why prison seemed to be reserved for Black people and wondered whose violence demanded a prison cell.

“In the criminal-justice system,” Harris replied, “the irony, and, frankly, the hypocrisy is that whenever we use the words ‘accountability’ and ‘consequence,’ it’s always about the individual who was arrested.” Again, she began to make a case that would be familiar to any progressive about the need to make the system accountable. And while I found myself agreeing, I began to fear that the point was just to find ways to treat officers in the same brutal way that we treat everyone else. I thought about the men I’d represented in parole hearings — and the friends I’d be representing soon. And wondered out loud to Harris: How do we get to their freedom?

“We need to reimagine what public safety looks like,” the senator told me, noting that she would talk about a public health model. “Are we looking at the fact that if you focus on issues like education and preventive things, then you don’t have a system that’s reactive?” The list of those things becomes long: affordable housing, job-skills development, education funding, homeownership. She remembered how during the early 2000s, when she was the San Francisco district attorney and started Back on Track (a re-entry program that sought to reduce future incarceration by building the skills of the men facing drug charges), many people were critical. “ ‘You’re a D.A. You’re supposed to be putting people in jail, not letting them out,’” she said people told her.

It always returns to this for me — who should be in prison, and for how long? I know that American prisons do little to address violence. If anything, they exacerbate it. If my friends walk out of prison changed from the boys who walked in, it will be because they’ve fought with the system — with themselves and sometimes with the men around them — to be different. Most violent crimes go unsolved, and the pain they cause is nearly always unresolved. And those who are convicted — many, maybe all — do far too much time in prison.

And yet, I imagine what I would do if the Maryland Parole Commission contacted my mother, informing her that the man who assaulted her is eligible for parole. I’m certain I’d write a letter explaining how one morning my mother didn’t go to work because she was in a hospital; tell the board that the memory of a gun pointed at her head has never left; explain how when I came home, my mother told me the story. Some violence changes everything.

The thing that makes you suited for a conversation in America might be the very thing that precludes you from having it. Terell, Anthony, Fats, Luke and Juvie have taught me that the best indicator of whether I believe they should be free is our friendship. Learning that a Black man in the city I called home raped my mother taught me that the pain and anger for a family member can be unfathomable. It makes me wonder if parole agencies should contact me at all — if they should ever contact victims and their families.

Perhaps if Harris becomes the vice president we can have a national conversation about our contradictory impulses around crime and punishment. For three decades, as a line prosecutor, a district attorney, an attorney general and now a senator, her work has allowed her to witness many of them. Prosecutors make a convenient target. But if the system is broken, it is because our flaws more than our virtues animate it. Confronting why so many of us believe prisons must exist may force us to admit that we have no adequate response to some violence. Still, I hope that Harris reminds the country that simply acknowledging the problem of mass incarceration does not address it — any more than keeping my friends in prison is a solution to the violence and trauma that landed them there.

In light of Harris being endorsed by Biden and highly likely to be the Democratic Party candidate, I thought I would share this balanced, understanding of both sides, article in regard to Harris and her career as a prosecutor, as I know that will be something dragged out by bad actors and useful idiots (you have a bunch of people stating 'Kamala is a cop', which is completely false, and also factless and misleading statements about 'mass incarceration' under her). I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to be criticised or that there is nothing about her career that can be criticised, but it should at least be representative of the truth and understanding of the complexities of the legal system.

#I think this article also touches well on the flaws of 'abolish prison'

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taeswolfie · 11 months

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𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆

☽︎𝑾𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏☾︎

Ch.2

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 9.3k

a/n: I started writing this in November of 2020 on Wattpad and finished a few years later, and although it's kind of old now it's still one of my favorite things I have written so far. I wanted to give it a bit of new life here on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it. There were about 90 chapters so wish me luck on this massive, and probably slow, migration 😅

A teenage girl sits cross legged in the middle of her bed dressed in pajamas. A book is held up in front of her. The cover of black leather has no title but the Triple Moon is embossed vertically in the middle, a moonstone sewn into the middle moon. Her head moves slightly as she reads and she mutters the words under her breath. She suddenly looks towards her window, a flash of purple is reflected when her eyes meet themselves in the glass before she blinks and they're back to their original color. She tilts her head a bit as if listening for something and squints her eyes before she gets up. The book closes and plops down onto the covers in front of her as she gets up, her hands unfolding from their place in her lap.

She pauses a few steps from her window with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. She takes the last few steps and quickly pulls open the window, sticking her head out and startling the brunette boy currently scaling the trellis on the side of the house. "What are you doing, Stiles?" She asked once he regained his hold on the structure.

"God! Y/n! You nearly scared me to death! How did you know I was here?" He asked, slightly out of breath from the combination of climbing the side of her house and getting a scare.

She shrugged a shoulder. "I heard you."

"How?! I was super careful not to make a sound. Also why weren't you answering your phone?"

"Not careful enough, apparently. And I was busy reading. I didn't want to be disturbed. Now, again, what are you doing, Stiles?"

"I saw my dad leave like 40 minutes ago. Dispatch called, everyone from the Beacon Department and even State Police were called in because two joggers found a body in the woods."

"No."

"No? What do you mean no?"

"I mean no. School starts tomorrow and I don't want to spend my last night of summer traipsing through the woods looking for a body."

"Half body." He corrected.

"Let me rephrase. I don't want to spend my last night of summer traipsing through the woods looking for a half body. Go drag Scott out of bed and make him go with you."

"Uh, he already did." Scott's voice drifted up to the two and Y/n looked past Stiles to see Scott giving her a sheepish grin.

She gave him an unimpressed look before leveling it on Stiles. "There's no way I'm gonna get you to leave me alone tonight, is there?"

"Nope." He grinned at her when she rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Fine." She pulled her head back in her room and stalked over to her closet.

"What are you doing?" She glanced behind her to see Stiles now haphazardly hanging onto her window sill.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm putting on some clothes. I don't want to go out, but I don't want to go without proper clothing more. Now, you can either watch me change or get off my window, but choose wisely."

He flushed a bit as he started to stammer. "Uh-um- I'm uh- I'm gonna go. Down there. With Scott."

"Good choice." She squinted her eyes at him with a sarcastic smile. Once he was out of sight and on the ground with a quiet 'thump' she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Idiot." She mumbled under her breath but still couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her lips. She hurried and got dressed in a sweater and some pants before climbing onto her window sill and down the trellis, leaving her window ajar for when she came back. When she was on solid ground she made her way to the blue Jeep that she has come to associate as purely Stiles.

Stiles comes to a stop in front of a sign labeled Beacon Hills Preserve No Entry After Dark. All three teens hop out of the Jeep, Stiles holds a flashlight. "We're seriously doing this?" Scott asked with worry in his tone.

"You're the one who's always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town." Stiles shot back with a pat on Scott's shoulder when he passed. Y/n comes up next to Scott with a sigh.

"He's kinda got you there, Scotty." She also pats his shoulder before reluctantly following behind the overly excited boy.

"I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow." Scott also reluctantly followed.

"Right, 'cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort." Stiles retorted from five steps ahead of them.

"Hey, be nice Stilinski. Scott's trying to play this year."

"I will play this year." Scott corrected. "In fact, I'm making first line."

"Hey, that's the spirit." Y/n smiled at Scott with a nudge that he returned with a smile of his own.

"Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one." Stiles said.

"Like chasing after Lydia Martin." Y/n mumbled under her breath.

"What was that?" Stiles couldn't hear her over the crunching of leaves and Scott's scoff.

"I said 'how much can these woods darken?'' Stiles threw a questioning glance over his shoulder at Y/n's innocent expression. He then looked at Scott, but the shaggy haired boy just shrugged. Stiles shook his head and continued looking forward as Y/n smirked to herself.

"Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?" Scott asked.

Stiles slowed in his walking for a moment. "Huh! I didn't even think about that." He chuckled.

"I've got a question too." Y/n said with a finger raised slightly in the air. "What if whoever killed this person is still out here?"

"Also something I didn't think about."

"Of course you didn't." Y/n shook her head.

"It's... comforting to know you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail." Scott joked as they climbed up a steep incline making him start to breathe a bit harder.

"I know."

"Maybe the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?" Scott leaned against a tree and pulled out his inhaler. Y/n stopped with him as Stiles kept going.

"You good, Scott?" She asked, concerned.

He simply nodded as he shook the inhaler and waved her on. She took a few steps still looking at him before facing forward as he continued to walk with her. Stiles stumbles to the ground to lay on his stomach, Y/n following more gracefully with Scott falling beside her like Stiles had. Scott wheezes as they watch several flashlight beams scan the area, the figures holding them looking for any sign of the other half of the body.

"Okay, come on!" Stiles suddenly jumps up and runs in the direction of the other people.

"Stiles!" Scott calls but he doesn't answer.

Y/n groans. "I'll go after him." Y/n also jumps up and starts running after him.

Scott takes a puff of his inhaler before he also follows. "Wait up!" The three run through the woods, Y/n whisper yelling at Stiles at how much of an idiot he's being. "Stiles!" Scott also tries to whisper yell at the boy.

"Stiles, stop!" Y/n's forceful tone finally gets him to slow to a walk, looking behind him for his friends. Y/n catches up just as a dog barks at him, scaring him into falling back, which happened to be right into Y/n, sending both teens to the ground.

"Hold it right there!" An officer yells, the dog still barking as lights are shined on the two.

"Hang on, hang on!" Another voice calls over the ruckus. "This little delinquent belongs to me."

"Get off me, you oaf! You're crushing my ribs." Y/n groans with effort as she pushes Stiles off while he tries desperately to get up.

"Dad, how are you doing?" Stiles greets his father once he manages to stop crushing his friend.

"Y/n." Noah Stilinski greets.

"Hello Sheriff." She gives an innocent smile as she stands.

"Does he know you're out here?" Y/n didn't need him to name anyone to know who he was talking about.

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" He just looked at her and she looked away. "Yeah, thought not."

"So, do you, uh, listen in to all of my phone calls?" He then asks Stiles.

"No, heh." Stiles tries to deny, but then, "Well, not the boring ones." Y/n shakes her head.

"Now, where's your usual partner in crime?"

"Who, Scott?"

"No, the Gingerbread Man. Yes, he means Scott!" Y/n sasses before she gives the Sheriff a polite smile. "Scott's not with us, right now. He said he wanted to get a good night's rest for tomorrow's practice and he didn't want to come." What she said wasn't a lie, Scott wasn't with them because he trailed behind and he had said those words earlier.

Stiles nodded in agreement with what she had said. "It's just us. In the woods. Alone."

She gave him a short jab in the side with her elbow and a look that said shut up. Noah raises his flashlight and scans the surrounding trees. "Scott, you out there? Scott?" He calls but gets no answer. He sighs and lowers the light. "Well, young man, I'm gonna walk you back to your car. And you and I are gonna have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy." He grabs the scruff of Stiles' clothes and pulls him along, glancing back at Y/n. "And you, missy, I'm gonna give you a ride back home."

"Yes, sir. That sounds great actually." She takes one more look out at the trees with a small frown before following the Stilinski's.

After Noah made sure Stiles got in his car and drove away, he led Y/n to his car where she got in the front seat. Thunder crashes in the distance as she stares out of the front window, a worried look on her face. Rain gently patters against the road. She fidgets in her seat, an uneasy feeling in her gut. Her head whips towards the passenger window as she faintly hears a distant howl, the feeling getting just a bit worse.

When Noah pulls in front of Y/n's home she winces at the sight of Alan Deaton on the porch and sighs. "Thanks for the ride, Sheriff." Y/n glumly says as she unbuckles.

"No problem." He waves goodbye when she gets out and she watches him leave, prolonging the time before she has to face her guardian.

"Y/n." He says in his normal cool tone.

She slowly turns to look at him. "Yes, Alan?"

"Why did I get a call saying that you were wandering around in the woods in the middle of the night?"

"Because I was." She responded plainly.

"Why?"

"Stiles, being Stiles, listened in on the Sheriff's phone call and he heard about a dead body being found, but it was only half, and there was a search party for the other half and Stiles wanted to be the one to find it. He dragged Scott out too, and what kind of a best friend would I be if I had let them go by themselves? But now what kind of best friend am I that I left one of them in the woods after we were caught." She frowned.

"Who?"

"Scott. The Sheriff didn't see him because he hid behind a tree."

"And you know that how?"

"I heard him."

"I see." He nods in understanding. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Scott's a strong boy, he'll be okay. Come on, let's get inside. School starts tomorrow."

"Yeah." She mumbled. He held his arms out and she obliged by hugging him. He pulls away but still keeps an arm over her shoulder. Just before she steps inside she looks over her shoulder, back to the woods.

"What's wrong?"

She shakes her head a bit, a frown still tugging at her lips. "I don't know. Just a feeling." She sighs as she turns away and follows him into the house.

…

Y/n rides into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High School on her bike. She balances on one foot as she smoothly glides up to the bike rack, using her other foot as a brake once she's close enough. She notices Scott's bike and Jackson's Porsche as she's fixing up her bike lock. "Oh, yay, I'm parked next to him." She mutters sarcastically. She turns to face the school, fixing her bag on her shoulder, and takes a deep breath. "First day back to school. What a joy." With one more breath she makes her way to the front doors. She scans the crowd and spots Scott and Stiles, the former holding up his shirt to expose his side. Y/n squints and catches a red splotch on the gauze he has taped there before he puts it down and the two continue walking. She picks up her pace and jogs to the two, catching up when they stop again and she can clearly hear what they're saying.

"All right, well, if you don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you I found the body." Scott's tone lowered with the last few words he spoke.

"What's this about a wolf?" Y/n asked once she stood next to the two, her curiosity piqued.

"Did you not just hear him about the body? Are you kidding me?" Stiles directed the last at Scott.

"No, I wish. I'm gonna have nightmares for a month."

"Oh, God, that is freakin' awesome."

"Yeah, awesome. You saw a wolf?" Y/n looked at Scott in question.

"No, but I heard one howling."

Y/n's brow furrowed a bit in worry but her thoughts are cut off by Stiles groaning out a sigh. "I already said that that was impossible. There are no wolves in California."

"You'd be surprised." She pointed out.

"Look, enough about the wolves. How are you focusing on that more than Scott found the body? I mean, this is seriously gonna be the best thing that's happened to this town since..." He trailed off as he spotted a particular strawberry blonde head. "Since the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey, Lydia... You look..." Lydia passes without a glance at Stiles but a small wave in greeting towards Y/n who returns the gesture. "Like you're gonna ignore me." Stiles sighs and looks at Scott. "You're the cause of this, you know?"

"Uh-huh." Scott 'agrees' with a smile.

"Draggin' me down to your nerd depths."

"Uh-huh." The three continue walking as the bell rings.

"I'm a nerd by association. I've been Scarlet Nerded by you. At least you haven't tarnished Y/n with your nerdy influence. How are you friends with Lydia, by the way? How did you get in there?" He rounds on Y/n.

She scoffs. "There's no 'in' to get to. We just so happen to be very best friends."

"I thought we were your best friends?" Scott points between himself and Stiles.

"You are, Scotty, don't worry." She pats his shoulder. "You're my guy best friends and she's my girl best friend."

"You think you could put in a good word for me so I can be her guy best friend?" Stiles asks with a hopeful tone.

"No." She shoots down immediately, giving a playful coo when he pouts and she lightly pinches his cheek. He bats her hand away with a laugh and the trio continue down the halls.

...

"As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night." Mr. Curtis informs as he writes on the white board. Scott shares a knowing smile with Y/n and Stiles, the h/c in the seat next to him with Stiles right behind her. "And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody," Mr. Curtiss turns to face the class, Scott throws a questioning look at Stiles who shrugs, "which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining this semester."

Y/n picks up the paper to skim it over, barely glancing out the window when she heard the cell ringing outside. She sees a pretty brunette girl on the bench outside that she doesn't recognize yet doesn't really give it another thought. She looks back to her paper, but her eyes are drawn to movement beside her. She glances over and sees Scott looking around before rubbing his ear in confusion. She narrows her eyes at his actions and keeps watching him as his focus is drawn out the window and his eyes slowly sweep across the room until they stop at the door. A moment later the Vice Principal walks in with the brunette girl behind him.

"Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome." The VP leaves and the girl, Allison, moves to sit in the empty seat behind Scott. Y/n watches as Scott grabs one of his pens and turns to give it to Allison.

A confused look flashes across her face before it lights up with a smile. "Thanks."

"We'll begin with Kafka's Metamorphosis, on page 133." The teacher started speaking again as they looked at each other for a minute before Scott turned around. Y/n raised a brow at the exchange and caught Allison's confused look return. With one more glance at Scott Y/n turns back to her own papers, noting to herself to watch Scott a bit more closely.

...

The bell rings and students flood the halls. Scott fiddles with his locker's lock and glances down the hall spotting Allison. She looks over at him and smiles. He just blinks at her in a slight daze as Y/n comes up behind him. "Hey, Scott."

He turns to her. "Oh, hey, Y/n."

"I was meaning to ask, I saw you had a bandage on your side as I was catching up to you guys? What happened? Are you okay?" She asked in concern and he gave her an easy going smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Stiles doesn't believe me but I think a wolf bit me. It was dark and I couldn't see well but I heard a wolf howl."

"You're sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Can I see? The bite I mean?"

"Yeah, sure." He glanced around before he lifted his shirt enough for her to see. She carefully pulled the top part of the bandage away and he winced. Quickly, but carefully, she put the bandage back and he let his shirt fall.

"Yeah, that's uh... That's some bite." Stiles came around to Scott's other side at that point and she tuned out their conversation as her mind swam with the new information and worry. She only snapped out of her head when Lydia called her name from down the hall. She was standing next to Allison and waving Y/n over. "I'll see you guys later." She said to the boys before she made her way over to Lydia and the new girl.

"Allison, this is my best friend, Y/n. Y/n, this is Allison." Lydia introduced.

"Nice to meet you." Y/n held her hand out which Allison took.

"You, too." Allison gives her a kind smile.

Jackson sidles up beside Lydia with an arm thrown around her. "Hey." She greets and gives him a kiss. Jackson spots Y/n and rolls his eyes.

"Y/n." He says in obligatory greeting.

"Jackson." She says boredly. The two proceed to ignore each other as they talk to Allison.

Across the hall Scott and Stiles watch the exchange as another girl stops beside them at the sight of the four. "Can someone tell me how new girl is here all of five minutes, and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?" The girl questions the two boys.

"Because she's hot." Stiles answers.

"Does that mean you think Y/n's hot?" Scott smirks at him.

"What?" Stiles looks at him almost offended. "I'm just saying beautiful people herd together."

"You just called Y/n beautiful." Scott's smile got wider as Stiles glared at him.

"Your point is?"

Scott shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing."

"I'm just stating facts. Y/n is obviously pretty hence why she's with Lydia and the new girl."

"I'm not saying anything." Stiles rolled his eyes as Scott just smiled at him and turned to the girl they were talking to. Scott's smile slowly fell as he looked back over at the four. His ears were able to pick up the conversation taking place across the hall.

"So, this weekend, there's a party." Lydia hints to Allison.

"A party?" The brunette questions.

"Yeah, Friday night." Jackson informs. "You should come."

"Uh, I can't. It's Family Night this Friday. Thanks for asking."

"You sure? I mean, everyone's going after the scrimmage. Even Hermit over there is going." Jackson gestured towards Y/n and she gave him a sarcastic laugh with squinted eyes.

"You mean like football?"

"Football's a joke in Beacon."

"The sport here is lacrosse." Y/n informed. "It's like... A big thing."

"We've won the State Championship for the past three years."

"Because of a certain Team Captain." Lydia smiled up at Jackson and fixed a piece of his hair.

"Well, we have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don't have anywhere else-"

"Well, I was going to-"

"Perfect." Lydia cut Allison off. "You're coming." Lydia grabbed Allison's wrist with one hand and Y/n's with the other and started to pull them both along.

"Is she always like this?" Allison whispered to Y/n.

"You get used to it." Y/n shrugged with an unbothered expression.

...

Lydia leads the trio as they make their way to the stands and sit. Y/n spots Scott and Stiles already geared up and on the field. She gives them a wave when they look over although Y/n notices Scott wasn't looking at her but at the brunette next to her making her smirk to herself. Coach Finstock talks to Scott and Y/n sees him hand Scott the gear for goalie. Oof. That's gonna be rough. She thought as Scott takes position in front of the goal.

"Who is that?" Allison asks.

"On goal?" Y/n clarifies and when Allison nods she smiles. "That's Scott. He's one of my best friends." Y/n looked back at Scott to see him already looking in their direction with a tilted head and her smile dissolved into a slight frown. Coach blows the whistle and Scott grips at his head as if someone was shouting at him, Y/n's frown goes a little deeper. Another player throws the ball and it goes right into Scott's mask making him fall flat on his back. Stiles grimaces and Scott gets back up. He braces himself as another player throws the ball again, but this time he caught it.

He looks at it surprised and smiles. The lined up players all look around each other to see what McCall had done. Stiles sits up and yells, "Yeah!" Scott catches ball after ball and Stiles whoops. Y/n watches with raised brows and a disbelieving scoff.

"He seems like he's pretty good." Allison comments.

"Yeah, very good." Lydia agrees.

"Uh oh." Y/n mutters when she sees Jackson skip the line to take his shot at Scott. The air is tense as everyone watches Jackson run up and hurl the ball at Scott. But to everyone's surprise he swiftly catches it. Stiles jumps up, hooting in joy. Y/n stands with Lydia as the strawberry blonde cheers and Y/n cups her hands over her mouth. "GO SCOTT!"

"THAT'S MY FRIEND!" Stiles yells making Y/n laugh. Lydia screams some more cheers and Jackson glares over at her. When he catches her eye she just gives him a what? look and sits back down.

...

"I don't know what it was." Scott leads the way through the woods and across a small stream as his two friends follow him. "It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And it's not the only weird thing. I can... hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear. Smell things."

"Smell things? Like what?" Stiles questions from behind Scott.

"Like Mint Mojito gum in your pocket. And Y/n smells like flowers."

"I do?" The girl muttered as she pinched her shirt and sniffed it, only smelling her laundry soap and a bit of animal from her time at the Animal Clinic. She then held her wrist up to her nose, focusing on her sense of smell, and there it was. A faint scent of flowers that clung to her skin like a mist. Something she had almost forgotten about because there wasn't anyone who would notice it like her.

The three pause as Stiles rummages through his jacket pockets. "I don't even have any Mint Mojito-" He cuts himself off as he pulls a slightly opened piece of gum from his pocket. Y/n raises a brow as Stiles looks up at Scott who gives him a see? gesture. They continue walking and Stiles shoves the gum back in his pocket. "So all this started with a bite."

"What if it's like an infection, like my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?"

"You know what? I actually think I've heard of this- it's a specific kind of infection."

"Are you serious?" They all stop again, Y/n looking between the two, nervousness flashing through her system as she realizes what Stiles is getting at, albeit jokingly, but this was anything but a joke to her.

"Yeah." Stiles puts his hands on his hips in seriousness. "Yeah, I think it's called Lycanthropy."

"What's that? Is it bad?" Scott worries.

Y/n folded her arms. "He's talking about Werewolfism."

"Yeah! You know, the full moon and the awrooo." Stiles howls. Scott lightly pushes him away and continues walking as Stiles laughs. "Hey, man..." He follows, an unusually quiet Y/n following. "Hey, you're the one who heard a wolf howling."

"Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me." Scott frets.

"I know! You're a werewolf! Ow!" He rubs his arm from Y/n's sudden attempt to make him shut up. He looks at her in question and she glares at him.

"Don't joke around like that, Stiles." She catches up with Scott. "Ignore him. I'm sure that it's nothing too bad, okay?"

Scott just sighs and Stiles speaks up. "Okay, obviously I'm kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all the silver I can find, It's 'cause Friday's a full moon." While Scott ignores Stiles, Y/n bites her lip in worry. If it was just a random ordinary wolf, Scott should be fine. But if it wasn't... If it really was what she thinks it was, then things were going to get very complicated very soon.

Scott looks around on the ground but doesn't see anything. "No, I- I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler." Scott crouches to look through the leaves.

"Maybe the killer moved the body?" Y/n suggests.

"If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like 80 bucks." Y/n chuckles a bit but when she feels another presence her head shoots up and she spots a broody looking man with dark hair and a black leather jacket. Stiles notices the man a second later and pats Scott to get his attention. Scott looks back and stands up to face the man.

The man starts walking closer to them at a brisk pace making Y/n take a few steps of her own to where she now stood in front of the boys. Used to her protectiveness neither of them give the action a second thought. "What are you doing here? Huh?" The man asks quickly. "This is private property."

"Sorry, we didn't know." Y/n speaks up for them. "We were just looking for something. You wouldn't have happened to see an inhaler around, would you?" Without another word the man pulls something from his pocket and tosses it towards Scott, but Y/n catches it from the air without looking away from him. She tossed the object back to Scott which he sees as his inhaler. After another moment of Y/n and the stranger staring each other down he turned and walked away. Once she was sure he wasn't coming back she turned to see Stiles gaping towards where he left and Scott frowning.

"All right, well, I've gotta get to work." Scott went to leave only to be stopped by Stiles.

"Guys, that was Derek Hale."

"Hale?" Y/n questioned, the name sounding vaguely familiar to her.

"You remember, right?" He asked Scott. "He's only a few years older than us. This was, like, a few years before you moved here, Y/n. His family burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago."

"That's awful." Y/n frowned.

"I wonder what he's doing back?" Scott mused.

Stiles scoffs and shrugs his shoulders. "Come on." He started to walk away, Y/n and Scott following after one more look towards where Derek Hale disappeared to.

...

Y/n sat at home that night, curled up in the corner of the couch and worrying at her bottom lip. She stared into space as her mind swirled in a mixed mess. It was only the first day back at school and things are already kind of stressful. She didn't notice the other person in the room until the couch sagged next to her. She turned her head to see Alan giving her a concerned look. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know." She said honestly.

"Well, I don't think the wall will be alright if you keep burning a hole through it." She gave him a weak chuckle as she looked at the wall again. "What's bothering you?"

She sighed and shook her head a bit. "It's hard to explain."

"Do your best."

She was quiet while she tried to get her thoughts in order. "The other night, I heard a howl. It was distant but I know what I heard. And now I find out today, Scott heard it too and he swears a wolf bit him." She looked at him again, concern, worry, and a slight bit of fear written on her face. "He's been acting strange too. He's hearing things only I would normally hear, and he's smelling things like my natural scent of flowers. I think that... I'm scared that..." She sighed in frustration. "My thoughts are so jumbled."

He put a comforting hand on her knee. "Tell me what you feel, then, instead of what you think."

She closes her eyes for a moment and when they open, they glow a slight purple before dimming back to e/c. "I feel like he's been bit by an Alpha. He's turning."

Alan's face turns serious. "Well, if your feeling is correct, and I've never known it to be otherwise, then Scott's going to have a tough time ahead of him."

"Tell me about it." She huffed. "What do I do?"

He was quiet for a moment as he thought of what best to advise. "Just be there for him and help him. If he's really been bitten, he's going to need his friends more than ever."

"What if he or Stiles starts asking questions about what I know? I can't tell them about me." She frowned at the thought. She's never had a reason to reveal what she was and when they learn about the supernatural she'd be lying about it.

"They'll be too preoccupied with Scott's new transformation to wonder about it much. For now, at least, don't worry about it."

"I'll try. Thanks... For helping me." She gave him a small smile and hugged him which he returned. "It's what I'm here for." He patted her back and pulled away. He got up and left her to her thoughts again, but this time they weren't as stormy.

...

"Y/n! Y/n!" The girl looked to the spastic boy who was yelling her name across the lacrosse field as she sat on the stands. She squinted her eyes in confusion watching Stiles run like a bat out of hell and got off the stands so that he wouldn't pile-drive people just to get to her.

"Whoa, whoa!" She cried out when he nearly rammed into her and held tightly to her shoulders. "Calm down there, Speedy. What's wrong?"

"Scott was right." He blurted.

"What? Right about what?"

"Scott was right! About a wolf! There was animal hairs on the body, wolf hairs!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he rushed off as he spotted Scott, which was probably a good thing because she wasn't even sure what she would say. Her feeling is turning out to be more and more correct as the seconds ticked by. As the game started Y/n could only watch in concern and a slight bit of awe as Scott easily skirted around other players and flipped over three other guys blocking his path to take a quick shot. The team gathered around Scott, praising his score and patting him on the shoulders. Coach called Scott over and she listened in, smiling a bit when he put Scott on first line. Maybe being a werewolf wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for him. Maybe it'll actually be good. Maybe.

But the pit in her stomach told her that maybe it won't be as good as she hopes. She looked over to Stiles to see him with a worried expression. She went over to him and sat next to him. "What's on your mind?" She nudged his shoulder lightly.

"I think- and I know this sounds crazy- but I think I might have been right. That joke I made the other day. I don't think it's much of a joke anymore. I think Scott is actually a werewolf." He looked at her in worry and all she could do was put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"Whatever is happening here, we'll get through it. I know it." Stiles didn't answer. Just continued watching Scott in worry.

Later that day Y/n pedaled to a stop in front of Stiles' house, Scott doing the same a minute later. "Hey." She greeted.

"Hey. Do you know what Stiles called us for?" He quizzed.

"Nope." She shook her head. Well, she had a pretty good idea what it was. They both made their way into the house and up to Stiles' room where Scott knocked loudly.

The excitable boy opened the door and sighed in relief when he saw it was his friends who smiled at him. "Get in. You gotta see this thing." Stiles closed the door. "I've been up all night reading- websites, books. All this information."

"How much Adderall have you had today?" Scott asked.

"A lot." Y/n and Scott shared a smile at that. "Doesn't matter. Okay, just listen." Stiles urged.

"Oh, is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?" Scott sat his bag on the bed and sat himself down on the edge, Y/n placing herself next to him.

"No, they're still questioning people, even Derek Hale."

"Oh, the guy in the woods that we saw the other day." Scott realized.

"Yeah! Yes. But that's not it, okay?"

"What, then?"

"Remember the joke from the other day?" Stiles scoffed. "Not a joke anymore." When Scott didn't catch on to what he was saying he elaborated. "The wolf. The bite in the woods. I started doing all this reading. Do you even know why a wolf howls?"

"Should I?"

"It's like a signal." Y/n finally spoke up, both boys turning to face her. "A wolf howls to tell its pack where it is." When they both just stared at her she raised her brows at them. "What? I live with a vet and I like animals."

"Right." Stiles agreed. "So if you heard a wolf howling, that means others could have been nearby. Maybe even a whole pack of 'em."

"A whole pack of wolves?" Scott wondered.

"No... Werewolves." Y/n frowned. This had been exactly what she thought this was about. But, while she was nervous, Scott was unbelieving.

"Are you seriously wasting my time with this?" Scott got up and started to grab his bag. "You know I'm picking up Allison in an hour."

"Scott, maybe you should listen to him."

"Not you, too." Scott looked at Y/n, slightly aggravated.

"He's got a point. I mean, Scott, we saw you on the field today. What you did wasn't just amazing, it was practically miraculous."

"Exactly!" Stiles pointed at her excitedly.

"Yeah, so I made a good shot." Scott brushed it off.

"No, you made an incredible shot, I mean..." Stiles grabbed Scott's bag and put it back on the bed. "The way you moved, your speed, your reflexes. People can't just suddenly do that overnight. And- and there's the vision and the senses, and don't even think I don't notice that you don't need your inhaler anymore."

"Okay!" Scott interrupted. "Dude, I can't think about this now. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?! What? No! The full moon's tonight. Don't you get it?"

"What are you trying to do?" The tension in the room rises and Y/n stands, feeling the spiking emotions. The first moon is sometimes the worst for newer wolves. "I-I just made first line. I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it?"

"He's not trying to ruin anything, Scott. He's trying to help you."

"You're cursed, Scott. You know, and it's not just the moon that will cause you to physically change. It also just so happens to be when your bloodlust will be at its peak."

"Bloodlust?"

"It's like an uncontrollable urge to maim and kill." Y/n provided the info again.

"I'm already starting to feel an urge to kill, Y/n." Scott said irritably.

"I'm sure you are." Y/n muttered under her breath.

"You gotta hear this." Stiles continued to rant. He grabbed a book and searched for what he wanted from it. "'The change can be caused by anger or anything that raises your pulse.' All right? I haven't seen anyone raise your pulse like Allison does. You gotta cancel this date. I'm calling her right now." He moved around Scott to his bag and rummaged around for Scott's phone.

"Wait, Stiles. You shouldn't-" Y/n tried to warn but she was cut off by Scott.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm canceling the date." Stiles had finally retrieved the device.

"No, give it to me!" Y/n felt heat flush her body as she felt Scott's anger reach a crescendo making him grab Stiles and shove him against the wall, fist raised and ready to strike.

"Scott, stop!" Y/n yelled forcefully. Scott's fist shook and he yelled as he swiped at Stiles' desk chair making it clatter to the floor.

Scott panted heavily as he looked between Y/n and Stiles. The air was thick as Scott realized what he was going to do. "I'm sorry." No one spoke. "I-I gotta go get ready for that party." He, more calmly, got his bag from the bed and went to the door, pausing to look at his friends again. "I'm sorry." And then he left, closing the door behind him.

Y/n let out a breath to calm herself as Stiles leaned his head back onto the wall and she looked over at him. "Are you okay?" She asked. He didn't answer but nodded his head a bit. Even with his assurance she wanted to assure herself so she went over to him and pulled him into a hug, which he gladly reciprocated. The two teens stood in silence for a moment before he pulled away with a sigh. She raised her brows in question and he nodded at her again.

"I'm good. Thanks." He gave her a small, appreciative smile.

"Anytime." He looked at his fallen chair and went over to it. He crouched down and picked it up, sitting it back on its wheels, but paused in his movements. He looked over his shoulder at Y/n with furrowed brows and moved for her to see. She frowned when she saw the three slash marks that scarred the chair from Scott's hit.

...

Y/n sat in her room and bounced her leg anxiously. The party was soon and she didn't want to go, she wasn't much of a party person unless she was in the mood for it, but tonight was the full moon and so she had to. She had to watch out for Scott. The first change is often the hardest and it'll be no different for him.

She jumped slightly when she heard a honk from outside. She looked out her window and smiled when she spotted the blue Jeep, giving Stiles a wave when he spotted her. She took one more glance in the mirror and flattened out any wrinkles in her clothes before she went downstairs. She spotted Alan on her way and stopped in front of him. "How do I look?" She asked.

He twirled a finger and she obliged by turning for him. When she faced him again he smiled. "Stunning as always." He finally said.

She rolled her eyes but still smiled. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true." He was silent for a moment, a tender look in his eyes. She felt a nostalgic feeling from him as he looked at her but also at something else, something not quite in the same space as them. "You look just like her."

A sad smile graced her features as she looked down and remembered her face. It's been a long time since she last saw her mother in person. Yeah, she has pictures, but it's not quite the same. The camera doesn't quite catch the proud gleam in M/n's eyes when Y/n showed off her growing skills. All she has is the memory that she desperately holds onto. And that's enough for now until she can see her again, one day in the future.

She looked back up at Alan and gave him a sudden hug. He huffed a laugh in amusement but hugged her back. "Thank you." Her voice was soft but he still heard her. He just squeezed her a bit tighter before they both pulled away. "Okay. I should go now. Stiles is waiting."

"Have fun. And be careful." He warned gently.

"I will." She gave him one more smile before she turned and rushed out the door and hopped into the Jeep. "Thanks for giving me a ride."

"No problem. You look really good, by the way." Stiles complimented.

"You don't look so bad yourself." They smiled and he started to drive to the party.

Music pounded through the house as teens danced together, several of them holding red or blue cups. Stiles and Y/n stood in the middle of moving bodies and looked around. "I don't see Scott." Stiles yelled over the noise and looked at her.

She took one more glance around. "He's probably not here yet. Stay in here. I'll keep an eye out for him outside."

"Sounds good." With that Y/n made her way to the backyard where more people were having a good time together. She looked around for her friend, but spotted someone unexpected. Her eyes narrowed as she made her way to the mysterious Hale, his eyes already watching her cautiously.

"I know what you are." She said as soon as she was close enough and folded her arms. "All I wanna know is, are you an Alpha?"

"No, I'm not."

"Show me." He rolled his eyes before they flashed a brilliant blue. She frowned at the color but decided to ignore it for now. "Okay. Then what do you want with Scott?"

"I'm just looking out for him. There are Hunters here."

A rush of fear coursed through her and she nearly stopped breathing. "What?" It came out a little more breathless than she intended, but wouldn't you be breathless too if you were presented with one of your biggest fears?

He didn't say anything else as his eyes were drawn behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Scott had arrived with Allison. Scott spotted them, looking between his friend and the stranger as a dog started barking. Derek looked behind him at the dog and then back at Scott, Y/n giving the canine creature a glance. Scott kept staring until Allison had gotten his attention. Derek took this chance to leave. Y/n gave the moon a nervous glance before returning to the party. She wandered aimlessly until a pair of familiar hands grabbed her and she found she was inside the house again. She looked up to see Stiles giving her a worried look.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but slowly shut it realizing she didn't really have anything to say. So she just settled with, "Yeah, I'm fine." A sudden pull in her gut told her that something was happening and that that something was Scott. "But I don't think Scott is." Not even a moment after she said that Scott had started to practically stumble into the house, sweat on his brow and breathing heavily.

"Yo, Scott, you good?" Stiles asked as he got closer.

"Are you okay?" Another girl asked yet he just bypassed everyone and made his way to his car, speeding off as fast as he could. He was gone by the time Y/n and Stiles made it outside and they just barely caught Allison getting into Derek's car and driving off.

Y/n huffed in frustration and grabbed Stiles' wrist. "Come on." She dragged him to his Jeep and he drove them to Scott's house. Melissa wasn't home as the two bounded up the steps and to Scott's door. That was probably for the best. She tried to open the door and found it was locked so she pounded on it instead.

"Go away." She heard his meak reply.

"Scott, it's us." Movement from the other side and the door opened just a crack. They tried to open it further but Scott wouldn't let them. "Let us in, Scott. We can help."

"No! Listen, you gotta find Allison."

"She's fine, all right?" Stiles assured. "We saw her get a ride from the party. She's- she's totally fine."

"No, I think I know who it is."

"You just let us in. We can try-"

"It's Derek. Derek Hale is the werewolf. He's the one that bit me. He's the one that killed the girl in the woods."

"Wait, no." Y/n tried to correct. "No, Scott, he didn't-" She was cut off.

"Scott.. Derek's the one who drove Allison from the party."

"Oh, shit." Y/n felt Scott's mood shift a second before the door slammed on them and was locked again.

Stiles banged on the door. "Scott!" Stiles kept trying the door as Y/n heard a thump. Her breath hitched when she heard a roar and she pushed Stiles from the door and out of the house. "It's too late. Just check on Allison. I'll try and follow Scott."

"Wait, what?! You can't go out there by yourself! You could get hurt! Whoa!" He nearly fell as Y/n practically shoved him into the Jeep.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself. Just go." She didn't give him anymore time to argue as she started sprinting towards the woods. There wasn't time to track him so she just went in the general direction she had heard him run for a bit before she resorted to getting some help. She stopped for a minute and closed her eyes. When she opened them they blazed with a violet glow and she looked around at the few people now standing around there. "Have you seen a boy run through here?" She got a few nods. "Please, show me which way he went." One by one the figures pointed and she continued running, now following the dead's guidance.

She felt them before she saw them, the wolves and the Hunters. Her eyes returned to e/c as she saw a flash of light and heard Scott's scream of pain. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw three Hunters there. Like a truck hitting her, memories flashed through her head. Running through the woods. She was crying and she heard her mother scream. "Y/n! Run, just run!"

She was snapped out of her flashback when she heard, who she assumed, the lead Hunter speak. "Take him." That's when she spotted Scott, shifted and pinned to a tree by an arrow through his forearm. Suddenly one of the other Hunters was yanked back and she caught a glimpse of Derek. A rush of adrenaline urged her forward and to Scott where she broke the arrow and pulled him away as Derek threw the second Hunter before following them.

The three ran through the woods until Scott collapsed to the ground against a tree, panting. When he turned around and sat with his back on the tree he was back to normal. Y/n dropped to her knees taking deep breaths, her hands gripping onto any fabric they could find to stop from shaking. Derek looked around to make sure they got away for now. "Who were they?" Scott asked.

"Hunters." Derek answered. "The kind that have been hunting us for centuries."

"Us? You mean you! You did this to me!" Scott jumped up from the ground and shouted angrily.

"Is it really so bad, Scott? That you can see better... Hear more clearly, move faster than any human could ever hope? You've been given something most people would kill for. The Bite is a gift."

"He should have had the choice to receive it." Y/n spoke up, finally finding her voice again. She shakily stood up, clenching her hands to stand stronger. "It should have been his decision."

"There's nothing to be done about that now. He has it."

"I don't want it." Scott said.

"You will. And you're gonna need me if you want to learn how to control it." Derek bent over and placed his hand on Scott's shoulder. "So you and me, Scott... We're brothers now." Derek walked away, leaving the teens by themselves. Scott gripped his injured arm and leaned his head back.

Y/n looked at him and his arm. She carefully made her way to his right so she could see it better. "Can I see?" She asked. He looked up at her like he was just realizing she was there but nodded and moved his hand. She gently took his arm and inspected the wound. It wasn't too bad, she could easily heal it. But the problem was healing it would raise more questions than she was willing to answer so soon. So instead she tore off a strip of her clothes, not really minding since she could always fix it later. She tied the fabric around his arm and he hissed at the contact. "Sorry." She pulled her hands away when she was done and looked up at him. "That should do for now. It might take a while, but you'll heal."

"Thank you." She gave him a small smile and a nod. She looked around with a sigh and stood up, holding a hand out to him.

"Come on. It's a ways before we get back home. Better start walking now." He took her hand, she helped him stand and they both started to trek through the woods.

...

By the time the sun was up Y/n and Scott were going down the side of the road, Scott still babying his injured arm. The sound of a car coming drew her attention and she looked over her shoulder, smiling in relief when she saw the most beautiful blue Jeep she had ever seen. She tugged on Scott's good arm to get him to turn as Stiles pulled to a stop next to them. Scott got into the front and Y/n happily hopped in the back, tossing a spare blanket at Scott before curling herself up in one and sprawling in the back.

"You know what actually worries me the most?" Scott asked after a while.

"If you say Allison, I'm gonna punch you in the head." Stiles responded.

"Leave the boy alone, Stilinski." Y/n mumbled tiredly from the back.

"She probably hates me now." Scott practically lamented.

"Ugh." Stiles sighed. "I doubt that. But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology. Or, you know, you could just... Tell her the truth and... Revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you're a frickin' werewolf." Scott gave him a look and Stiles backpedaled. "Okay, bad idea. Hey, we'll get through this." Stiles patted his arm. "Come on, if I have to, I'll chain you up myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once. I could do it."

"I'm pretty sure l could get some puppy chow from the Clinic." Y/n offered with a sleepy smile. Scott scoffed at them with a smile and they continued their drive in silence.

After Stiles dropped Y/n off at home a few hours before school she closed the door behind her and just stood there for what felt like hours but was only a few minutes. Her eyes were glued to the floor, her mind filled with white noise. Alan had been waiting for her to get home and when she didn't come through the living room a bit after the door closed he decided to go to her. When he spotted her her expression looked almost exactly like it had years ago when she was a terrified little girl in front of his door, eyes watery with shadows of the past flickering in the e/c depths. This worried him because she wasn't one to be scared so easily. Something had to have happened that truly shook her.

She didn't seem to notice his presence, even when he was stood right in front of her. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders as if he was handling a scared animal, and by all rights, he was. Her eyes flicked up to his and she just stared at him for a moment. Then it seemed like the night's events finally caught up to her as her breath hitched and tears spilled down her cheeks.

She practically fell into him and he held her up, not asking any questions because right now, all she needed was to be comforted. He would get answers later when she calmed down and was finally able to tell him what happened without choking up. It was moments like those she was thankful that she had found Alan and had been taken in by him and she would always be grateful for it.

Ch.2

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maaarine · 6 months

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The Troubling Trend in Teenage Sex (Peggy Orenstein, The New York Times, April 12 2024)

"For the past four years, Dr. Herbenick has been tracking the rapid rise of “rough sex” among college students, particularly sexual strangulation, or what is colloquially referred to as choking.

Nearly two-thirds of women in her most recent campus-representative survey of 5,000 students at an anonymized “major Midwestern university” said a partner had choked them during sex (one-third in their most recent encounter).

The rate of those women who said they were between the ages 12 and 17 the first time that happened had shot up to 40 percent from one in four. (…)

Twenty years ago, sexual asphyxiation appears to have been unusual among any demographic, let alone young people who were new to sex and iffy at communication.

That’s changed radically in a short time, with health consequences that parents, educators, medical professionals, sexual consent advocates and teens themselves urgently need to understand.

Sexual trends can spread quickly on campus and, to an extent, in every direction.

But, at least among straight kids, I’ve sometimes noticed a pattern: Those that involve basic physical gratification — like receiving oral sex in hookups — tend to favor men.

Those that might entail pain or submission, like choking, are generally more for women.

So, while undergrads of all genders and sexualities in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys report both choking and being choked, straight and bisexual young women are far more likely to have been the subjects of the behavior; the gap widens with greater occurrences.

(In a separate study, Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues found the behavior repeated across the United States, particularly for adults under 40, and not just among college students.)

Alcohol may well be involved, and while the act is often engaged in with a steady partner, a quarter of young women said partners they’d had sex with on the day they’d met also choked them.

Either way, most say that their partners never or only sometimes asked before grabbing their necks.

For many, there had been moments when they couldn’t breathe or speak, compromising the ability to withdraw consent, if they’d given it.

No wonder that, in a separate study by Dr. Herbenick, choking was among the most frequently listed sex acts young women said had scared them, reporting that it sometimes made them worry whether they’d survive.

Among girls and women I’ve spoken with, many did not want or like to be sexually strangled, though in an otherwise desired encounter they didn’t name it as assault.

Still, a sizable number were enthusiastic; they requested it. It is exciting to feel so vulnerable, a college junior explained.

The power dynamic turns her on; oxygen deprivation to the brain can trigger euphoria.

That same young woman, incidentally, had never climaxed with a partner: While the prevalence of choking has skyrocketed, rates of orgasm among young women have not increased, nor has the “orgasm gap” disappeared among heterosexual couples.

“It indicates they’re not doing other things to enhance female arousal or pleasure,” Dr. Herbenick said.

When, for instance, she asked one male student who said he choked his partner whether he’d ever tried using a vibrator instead, he recoiled. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

Perhaps, she responded, because it would be more likely to produce orgasm without risking, you know, death.

In my interviews, college students have seen male orgasm as a given; women’s is nice if it happens, but certainly not expected or necessarily prioritized (by either partner).

It makes sense, then, that fulfillment would be less the motivator for choking than appearing adventurous or kinky. Such performances don’t always feel good. (…)

Now consider that every year Dr. Herbenick has done her survey, the number of females reporting extreme effects from strangulation (neck swelling, loss of consciousness, losing control of urinary function) has crept up.

Among those who’ve been choked, the rate of becoming what students call “cloudy” — close to passing out, but not crossing the line — is now one in five, a huge proportion.

All of this indicates partners are pressing on necks longer and harder.

The physical, cognitive and psychological impacts of sexual choking are disturbing.

So is the idea that at a time when women’s social, economic, educational and political power are in ascent (even if some of those rights may be in jeopardy), when #MeToo has made progress against harassment and assault, there has been the popularization of a sex act that can damage our brains, impair intellectual functioning, undermine mental health, even kill us.

Nonfatal strangulation, one of the most significant indicators that a man will murder his female partner (strangulation is also one of the most common methods used for doing so), has somehow been eroticized and made consensual, at least consensual enough.

Yet, the outcomes are largely the same: Women’s brains and bodies don’t distinguish whether they are being harmed out of hate or out of love."

#article #weaker sex #tw abuse #peggy orenstein

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blametheeditor · 3 months

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Day 12 | Foggy

Gt July Prompt List

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When stranded on an uncharted underwater planet, alone and surrounded by hostile lifeforms, there are only two possible outcomes: adapt and survive, or die trying.

Spoilers: For the game Subnautica

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and violence. Mentions of drowning and suffocation. Mentions of isolation.

________________________

Fritz appears at the designated cave opening to check back in with David. Grins at the sight of the leviathan trying his hardest to look as relaxed as possible. Because even though his eyes might be closed and his breathing slow, his mandibles are rigid and there’s a scowl on his face.

“David?” is called to offer an excuse to ‘wake up’ without admitting defeat. It’s not taken, the leviathan stubbornly continuing to feign sleep.

What can he do this time...

Fritz glances down at the rocks in his arms. Grins when he figures out the perfect plan. Because if David wants to pretend he’s asleep, the teenager is more than happy to make it seem much more believable. Even though he doesn’t know who’s supposed to be tricked, he can still help!

Swimming closer to the leviathan, he carefully spills the rocks he collected onto the sand. Picks up two pieces of quartz as he glances up to see if he’s being watched. The eyes are still closed, but now the mandibles sitting ominously high above begin to twitch.

He waits for a hand to make a grab for him. When nothing happens, Fritz proceeds to slowly swim even closer. Stops five feet away from the powerful arms being used as a pillow in order to set the two rocks in the sand side by side. With the plan in motion, he checks to make sure David’s still ‘asleep’, swimming back to grab two pieces of titanium and place them next to the quartz.

The leviathan continues to remain as still as a statue, leaving the rocks undisturbed. This will work perfectly.

Opening his pack, Fritz carefully spills out all the materials he’s gathered today, leaving only the quartz and titanium on the ground as he puts everything else away. Carefully swims back and forth as he carries two at a time, adding them to the growing chain of quartz and titanium making an outline around the massive being.

See, this will prove David’s asleep. Because how would someone who’s awake let themselves get trapped like this!

He has to keep himself from laughing at the sight of David looking undeniably angry even though he’s supposed to be completely unaware of what’s happening. Darts back to the cave to collect more rocks to add before the leviathan decides it’s not worth it and lunges after Fritz.

When he comes back with a full air tank and more materials, the leviathan still hasn’t moved.

He let’s a few laughs slip out as he continues to outline the leviathan. Constantly checking if David’s going to finally break. Unable to help a feeling of pride when this goes longer than every other time he’s ‘helped’ with proof. The time he did it with peepers lasted only two minutes, and ended with Fritz cutting the day short after nearly getting eaten himself.

As much as he trusts David, it’s clear the love of peepers is not to be joked around with.

The longer it goes on, though, the harder it gets to try and find materials to continue the outline. If he’s being honest, there will never be enough rocks combined to make a complete line all the way around the massive being. He’s already set down 40 and it’s not even as long as the width of the leviathan’s arms. But that doesn’t mean he can’t try! David’s counting on him!

Fritz darts back to the cave, navigating up and around toward the cliff opposite of where the leviathan is currently resting. Looks down at the safe shallows to decide which cave he should go to get more supplies.

I’d leave David behind.

He would be. Not completely, they’d be within 20 meters of each other, but David’s been adamant on knowing where Fritz will be and follow to be close. If he goes to another cave without saying he is, all in the name of using the leviathan’s pride against him, there’s a chance the teenager will have to watch his back for a couple days. And as much as he’s been enjoying the game, it’s not worth loosing the trust he’s worked hard to earn.

He sighs. Decides to take a moment and watch the fish swimming. Freezes when he sees a bit of purple appear in the corner of his eye. Turns his head to see the newest addition to the shallows silently swimming toward him.

He completely forgot about Vincent. The unfamiliar leviathan’s been here for a few days, but they’ve rarely interacted. Though that’s mostly due to David not letting them be less than 50 meters apart.

Fritz...doesn’t know how he feels about Vincent. Because he’s not upset about the attempt to kill him. If he was, then he’d have to hold David to the same standard, and he has a feeling that kind of sentiment wouldn’t be appreciated.

It’s not a great feeling knowing that David was deliberately attacked when he came to protect Fritz, though. Especially when it seems like they’re friends. The thought of him being the reason why someone got hurt no matter how minor it was sends a sharp pain in his chest.

David hasn’t been attacked since. He doesn’t hold it against Fritz, either. Actually, the leviathan has become even more protective than before, staying as close as possible and no longer going back to the trench every night.

It leaves Fritz uncertain as to why? Is David just worried the teenager will get eaten? Are the two leviathans no longer friends because of what happened? Should he try to befriend Vincent, or is he just seen as a meal?

As the purple leviathan gets closer, Fritz moves deeper into the cave opening, heart in his throat at the thought of getting attacked again. Good news, at least David’s close by and not actually asleep. But there’s still the possibility he can get hurt before help arrives, not when the wings on Vincent’s back are strong enough to cut into rock.

“What are you doing?”

Fritz feels like the breath was knocked out of him, gasping for air as he realizes someone just spoke common to him. Not the bits of phrases he’s taught David, not the low and rumbling language he’s been slowly learning. No, that was a flawless sentence in what he’s known his entire life.

He never thought he’d hear someone else speak it ever again.

“’Did’ I kill you?”

The thunderous voice speaking the language Fritz originally expected snaps him back to the present. Loosens the tight feeling around his chest at the unintentional reminder that he’s completely alone on an alien planet.

...not completely alone. David has his back.

“S-Sorry,” Fritz stutters out as he takes a deep breath. Carefully leans out of the opening to see Vincent coiled up on the seafloor below, watching him with multiple glowing yellow eyes. “Uh, I just, I hadn’t expected you to speak my language.”

The leviathan hums. “Good or bad?”

It feels like he’s getting shocked when common is spoken again. Because it’s not just surprise he’s feeling, it’s like he’s being jolted awake. Like this is all just a bad dream and he’s about to wake up. That it’s all over now. This will all turn into a foggy memory as he opens his eyes and realizes he’s been home all along.

But nothing happens. There’s a leviathan sitting before him. He’s completely surrounded by water. This isn’t a dream.

“B-B-Both,” Fritz murmurs. Feels his body begin to tremble. Hugs himself as his fingers grip his arms tightly.

“”So’ what were you ‘up to’?”

He glances down at the slow, rumbling words, not knowing all of them but understanding the important part. “Rocks.”

Vincent gives a smile. “For...”

Fritz takes a shuttering breath. “David.”

“Can I ‘help’?”

A laugh bursts out of the teenager at the leviathan wanting in on his protect without knowing the full details. The fact it revolves around David is enough.

Thinking it over a moment, he nods. Motions for Vincent to follow him to the other side of the rock. Waits until the leviathan is off the ground before darting off to beckon from the next cave opening. He’s surprised by how the massive being not only happily follows, but is patient despite Fritz most likely stopping too often. David definitely would’ve gotten frustrated by now and swam off in the wrong direction so the teenager follows him instead.

They make it to the ledge David had claimed, Vincent obediently waiting by the edge after Fritz motioned for him to wait. He keeps an eye on the leviathan as he then darts toward his designated entrance to make sure the person ‘sleeping’ doesn’t get lunged at. Has to steel himself before slowly swimming into the open, sending fearful looks over as he expects an attack.

Nothing happens as Vincent watches with amusement, most likely having noticed David struggling to keep his mandibles from shifting too much.

Fritz quickly grabs the few rocks he managed to collect the last run. Carefully lines the four up along with the rest. Checks back on Vincent to see a quartz carefully being flicked into a cave opening with a giant smile before silently darting off.

A grin then stretches across his own face as he swims over to grab it.

He should’ve known David would realize something was up when Fritz got a lot quicker at adding rocks to the ever growing line. Vincent was able to provide an armful every time he came back from collecting. Meaning the resting leviathan was never left alone for more than a minute. Which is honestly very suspicious considering he’s never been that fast before.

“Fritz.”

Said teenager freezes where he’s setting down a quartz, feels a shiver of fear race up his spine at his name being growled directly beside him. Slowly looks up to see David glaring down at him.

“Y-Yes, David?”

“What are you doing?”

Fritz’s eye catches Vincent frozen where he was adding quartz to the pile. Realizes he’s about to get snapped at the moment he explains himself. Immediately points toward the purple leviathan to make sure he’s not the only one in trouble. “Vincent helped me!”

“He what!”

“You little-!”

David doesn’t let the insult finish as he launches himself with a roar, leaving Fritz screaming as he tumbles from the powerful current. Manages to right himself in time to see the two leviathans wrestling to try and get the upper hand.

“He ‘started it’!”

“You ‘helped’ him!”

Fritz runs in the hope he can get back to the lifepod before either of them decide to come after him instead.

“FRITZ!”

#mistakes were made #G/t July 2024 #Day 12 | Foggy #FNAF bois #g/t #giant #tiny #BTE writing #Subnautica AU #cw #content warning

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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 2 years

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It's the Little Things

Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Joel hadn't pictured himself a dad to an orphan not after losing his only daughter in a car crash, but when a dear friend is dying of cancer what is he to do but take her in? A/N:this is an AU where the apocalypse does not happen, but Joel is still older than the reader(think upper 40's Joel whereas the reader is late 20's, early 30's)and is a surrogate dad to Ellie, if you do read please leave some feedback! warnings:none really, Joel being grumpy because he's old

This wasn’t the life Joel thought he would have for himself, he’d always thought it would be him and Sarah against the world, before the car accident happened. Now Joel didn’t blame anyone but himself for that happening, even when they were the ones t-boned by an oncoming semi, he should’ve looked both ways twice before turning. Except that wasn’t the case, and now he was being asked to take in his friend’s daughter because she was also dying. It wasn’t fucking fair, and at the rate he was going Joel was sure he’d be completely gray by the end of the year. Ellie was a good kid though, stayed out of trouble when it mattered most. Of course that wasn’t to say Marlene didn’t sneak her out of the house when his back was turned. She always came back in one piece though, and for that he was grateful.

“C’mon, don’t start trying to give me that look, you know damn well the answer is still going to be no,” Ellie had been begging Joel to take her to a concert, claiming she deserved to see what all the hype was about.

Joel on the other hand thought they were too loud and downright obnoxious, they weren’t even playing actual music on the radio anymore, it was just noise. So he dug his heels in and refused no matter how much she begged, or pleaded. Ellie knew he’d eventually give in, it would just take a ton of convincing for him to do so first.

“What if we see a band you like?” Joel simply stared over at the young girl, lips pulled into a frown as he started to consider what she was saying.

It would be a great bonding experience, and Joel wouldn’t have to endure some pop artist he couldn’t even pronounce the name of. If it finally got Ellie off his back for a little while, maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

“Fine, but after this you don’t ask for anything until your birthday, alright?” Granted her birthday was only three months away, which meant Joel was in for a whole heap of trouble with her.

Ellie was ecstatic, this was absolutely perfect! There was no way Joel could say no if Ellie just so happened to invite Marlene’s friend along with them, it would be so rude if he did. Plus Joel really needed someone by his side, man was grumpier than anyone else she’d ever met. Shit, but what if Joel actually gets upset though? That’s gonna derail the entire plan, and make for a very rough few months.

“What’re you planning over there?” Joel raised a brow at Ellie, waiting to see what was going on in the teenager's mind.

“Just thinking about who we could go and see,” Okay it wasn’t her best lie, but she was working on it.

Joel didn’t pay her much attention, heading off into the kitchen to start prepping everything for dinner. Ellie knew you had planned on stopping by, needing to “drop something off” according to Joel, he wouldn’t say as to why when she asked. He always seemed to get flustered whenever you walked into their house, stumbling over his words like he was a teenager with a crush.

“Holy shit!” That explained everything! No wonder Joel wasn’t willing to go on any date that Marlene tried to set him up on.

“What?! What’s going on?” Joel ran into the room, chef's knife clutched tight in his right hand.

Ellie stared at him dumbfounded, unsure she was willing to blow his cover.

“Nothing, thought I saw a spider but it was just a dust bunny,” Smooth Ellie, real smooth.

Joel’s posture relaxed, shaking his head before going back into the kitchen to continue doing what he was before Ellie had nearly given him a heart attack. Now all she had to do was convince you to go to the concert, wherever it was, when they decided on a band.

“Hello! Anyone home?” Your voice echoed throughout the house as you stepped inside, bag clutched tight in your right hand, cake balancing in your left hand. “Kitchen!” Joel’s voice was booming, much louder than your own, but a clear indicator of where the man was.

You smiled to yourself, making your way to the kitchen with your goodies. Joel had praised your cakes every time you brought one over, so why not indulge the man? It was a recipe you held near and dear to your heart, especially since it was the first dessert you ever made for him.

“Hey there good looking,” You snickered when Joel threw a glare your way, it was all in good fun.

Ellie practically threw herself into you, wrapping her arms around your waist in a tight hug, she was another reason you’d loved coming over. You hugged her back, being careful not to jostle the food that was in your hands.

“Hello to you too miss, why don’t you go hang out in the living room while your dad and I get dinner made,” You wanted to talk with Joel a little more privately, get everything off your chest.

“Did you bring the cake?” Ellie looked more excited about the cake than Joel did, which wasn't too surprising considering the sweet tooth the kid had.

You held the plate up a little higher, showing that you did indeed bring the oh so famous chocolate cake for the two Miller’s. She squealed excitedly, clapping before running off back into the living room. Joel was keeping himself busy cutting vegetables, keeping an eye on the steaks browning in the pan on the stove.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think she can tell,” You set the cake down on the table, turning to face the older man with a brow raised.

“I don’t think Ellie would know if it smacked her directly in the face,” Joel was trying to figure out the best way to break the news to her.

He hadn’t dated since Sarah had passed away, it felt wrong to worry about himself when there were so many other things going on. And then once Ellie came into the picture Joel put all of his focus into helping her settle into the home. Meeting you had been a blessing in disguise, one he’d been thankful for for the last few years you’d known one another.

“Joel, don’t be mean, she needs to focus her energy on something,” You couldn’t help but giggle when Joel rolled his eyes.

“She needs to stay out of my personal business is what she needs to do,” Joel was surprised Ellie hadn’t caught on sooner, she’d been watching him like a hawk lately.

The two of you worked in tandem, helping Joel prep the dinner he’d offer to cook to finally break the news to Ellie. Would it be weird telling her that you’d been together for nearly six months, keeping the secret from almost everyone you knew? Tommy had his suspicions, though it sounded like Maria was entirely sure Joel had someone special in his life.

“She called me dad last week, don’t think she noticed though,” Joel smiled fondly at the memory, stirring the vegetables around to make sure they didn’t burn.

“Oh Joel, that's so sweet!” You’d known all about Joel’s fears that he wasn’t being enough of a parent to Ellie, she hadn’t hit her rebellious years and the two of you were thankful for that.

Joel peaked around to make sure Ellie wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, something she tended to do way more than he was happy with. He’d nearly told Tommy about you before noticing the tip of Ellie’s shoe sticking out in the doorway. She played it off acting like she wasn’t trying to listen in on what Joel had to say. He was going to finally admit it to her tonight, tell the truth that was starting to weigh on him so heavily.

“Ellie! Dinner’s ready!” You had started to plate up the food, sliding behind Joel to grab enough silverware for the three of you.

Ellie came running into the room, taking the plate from you so she could finish plating her food. You grabbed a plate for Joel, piling the food up higher than you would for your own, the man could eat his body weight and food and still be ready for more.

“Go sit and eat, I can make my own plate,” Joel nudged you towards the dining table, fingertips lingering on the fabric of your shirt.

“I’ll sit down when you do,” You giggled when he rolled his eyes, grabbing your own plate of food and joining Ellie.

The three of you ate in silence, the sounds of forks and knives scraping against plates. Luna, the cat Ellie had insisted Joel get, was sitting by your feet. Joel was struggling to find the perfect time to bring up your relationship, how he was thinking of having you move into his home. He’d been debating it for a while, unsure of how you’d feel about moving with him.

“Hey, Ellie?” It was now or never, he was either going to tell his adoptive daughter that you were together, or he would continue to chicken out.

“Mmm?” She looked over at him, cheeks stuffed with food while he forced himself not to say anything.

He glanced at you for a brief moment, taking a deep breath to calm the nerves that were beginning to fray at the seams.

“I just wanted to let you know that Y/N and I are together. We’ve been dating since Tommy’s birthday,” There it was all out in the open and therefore no longer a burden on Joel’s shoulders.

Ellie’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, jaw dropping open to show the half chewed food still sitting in her mouth. Joel was ready to scold her, there was nothing more inappropriate than having food fall out of your mouth.

“I knew it!” Ellie leaped off the chair, chewing and swallowing the food that was in her mouth. “What?” Joel was confused, how the hell could she have known?

“You get so giddy whenever she’s around, I just figured it was nothing more than a crush,” Ellie shrugged, laughing at the stunned look on Joel’s face.

You weren’t surprised the teenager had figured out, she had almost caught on during the first month of your relationship when she’d knocked on Joel’s door and nearly caught you in bed together. Sliding under his bed definitely hadn’t been your proudest moment, but neither of you were ready to announce your relationship.

“Wait, so who knows if you’re just now telling me?” She had a put out look on her face, arms crossed over her chest.

“No one besides you knows, and no you will not be spilling the beans to Maria before I can say something to Tommy,” Maria and Ellie were thick as thieves together, getting into trouble when both Joel and Tommy had their backs turned.

“You told me before your brother?” Ellie’s voice was soft, quieter than either Joel or you had ever heard her before.

Had this meant more than they realized? Getting to be in on the big secret about the man who’d become her father. He was going to have to tell Tommy and Maria sooner rather than later anyway, lest they find out through the grapevine and get upset for being out of the loop. You held your arms open, gesturing for Ellie to join your embrace. She didn’t hesitate to run over, arms wrapped tight around your ribs as she sniffled. Joel was thankful that she wasn’t upset they hadn’t told her, there was nothing worse than a pissed off teenager.

“Wait, does that mean you’re staying over?” Ellie pulled back so quickly from your embrace you were afraid the poor girl gave herself whiplash.

“Yes I am, as long as Joel’s alright with it,” You’d never try and overstay your welcome, no matter how much Joel would beg at times.

Before Joel could answer for himself Ellie piped up with a quick “who cares what he wants? We can have a sleepover!” It was adorable how much the teenager adored you, something Joel had been nervous about. He hadn’t brought anyone that wasn’t family, until you came into his life, around her before. The two of you had clicked as if you’d known Ellie her entire life, and not the two hours you’d first spent together. Joel had started heading over to your apartment more often after that, not wanting to be too affectionate around the teenager and give away his secrets. Now that the cat was out of the bag he could breathe easier, until it came time to tell his brother and sister-in-law. Nothing more exciting than telling your family you’ve been seeing someone nearly ten years after you lost your daughter, at least in Joel’s case.

A knock at the door caught everyone’s attention, you were already here so it definitely wasn’t you arriving late, so who the hell would it be?

“Joel! Open the damn door!” Why the fuck was Tommy here?

“Alright! Give me a damn minute,” Joel abandoned you and Ellie in the kitchen, going to unlock the front door to see what was so important.

Tommy all but shoved past Joel, complaining the weather outside was too damn cold for making him stand outside in it. God did he hope you and Ellie stayed in the damn kitchen while he dealt with his brother.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my house without letting me know you were coming over?” Had he and Maria gotten into an argument? Nah, Tommy knew better than to piss off Maria to the point she kicked him out.

“Ellie texted me, said there was some kind of emergency and that I should come right over,” Oh he was going to strangle that girl until she was blue in the face.

Joel turned and headed right towards the kitchen, not stopping until he came face to face with you, Ellie was doing her best to use you as a personal shield.

“You are dead, you hear me?” Joel reached around you towards Ellie, fingers barely grazing the hoodie she had on.

“You were going to tell him anyway, just rip the bandaid off!” She was doing everything she could to avoid Joel’s grasp, slipping under his arm to run into the living room.

Joel groaned lowly, Ellie was going to tell Tommy before he could even open his mouth and say a single word himself.

“Let’s go tell him together, okay?” You laced your fingers together, leading Joel out to the living room so he could finally face his brother.

Tommy and Ellie were having a heated discussion about what sounded very close to dinosaurs, that was a small win.

“Ellie called you over here because she wanted me to tell you, and if Maria had been here too, that I’ve got a girlfriend,” It felt weird admitting to his younger brother that he was dating someone, let alone someone as gorgeous as you.

Tommy stared dumbfounded for a brief moment before bursting into a full belly laugh that left Joel more confused than anything. Was it really that surprising he was dating someone that everyone felt the need to laugh at him? Ellie shrugged at him, unsure as to why Tommy was laughing.

“C’mon Tommy, don’t be mean to dad, he’s old and fragile,” Tommy was still laughing though much quieter.

You and Joel were stunned, it was the first time in the almost two years that Joel had that Ellie had said anything of the sort. He didn’t want to make it awkward though, there was nothing worse than making her feel uncomfortable.

“I am not being mean to him at all, stop being dramatic, if anything you’re the one calling him old and fragile” Tommy pointed a finger at her, catching the comment she’d made about Joel.

“Well it’s true, even Y/N agrees with me, isn’t that right?” All eyes were suddenly on you, leaving you flustered and unsure whether you wanted to answer truthfully.

You threw your hands up in surrender, not willing to answer the question that Ellie had so gladly thrown your way. That wasn’t to say you hadn’t made plenty of old man jokes with Joel before, he was forty-eight which in his eyes meant he was ancient. Ellie knew you were younger which explained why she never seemed suspicious of you and Joel spending time together.

“Really? You think I’m old and fragile there darling?” Joel stepped closer to you, quickly closing the space that separated the two of you.

“I mean I may have made a joke once or twice,” You backed away slowly, reaching blindly behind you to make sure you wouldn’t fall over and hurt yourself.

“I’ll show you old,” Joel lunged forward, fingers barely grazing your arm as you turned and ran towards the front door.

The sound of your combined laughter echoed throughout the house, the two of you running around in the front yard. The neighbors had seen the two of you running around like fools in the past, so this was nothing new to them. You knew better than to let Joel win though, he would hold it above your head for weeks and would brag if that happened.

“Should we get them back inside?” Tommy looked over at Ellie, watching as the couple tussled outside.

“Nope, Joel will eventually catch her and they’ll probably say a bunch of cheesy shit before coming back inside. Y/N brought her famous chocolate cake and there’s no way dad’s going to miss out on that,” Ellie would fight someone for a slice of that cake, it was earth shatteringly good.

Tommy thought better than to ask anymore questions, he’d gotten an answer already and would wait to see what all the fuss was about. A loud squeal echoed before the two of you hit the ground, Joel reigning victorious. Luna was sitting in the doorway watching the pair, she’d been patiently waiting to be fed her dinner and this was another thing holding everything up.

“Wait, you’re saying that like they’ve done something like this before, but you just found out they’re dating,” Tommy was suspicious now, had Ellie secretly known about the relationship?

“I did just find out, but they’re like a couple of kids whenever they’re around each other. I swear I’ve never seen him so happy before, damn how did I miss all the signs?” Ellie muttered the last few words to herself, thinking back on all the time Joel came home late, claiming he’d been working with Tommy when in reality he’d been on a date with you.

It didn’t hurt, finding out that Joel had kept something like this hidden for so long, he was more worried about raising Ellie without pushing his own beliefs onto her. She was a kid with a personality, and thoughts, Joel wanted to give her a chance to figure out who she was. You and Joel headed back inside a few minutes later, grass stains covering most of your clothes as you laughed together.

“Can we have dessert please?” Ellie was ready to beg, the cake was whispering things and damnit she was hungry.

“Yes, we can have cake,” You pressed a kiss to Joel’s cheek before rushing off to cut a slice of cake for everyone.

Tommy could see the lovesick smile on his brother's face, the way it radiated through his body like a beacon of life. It was sickeningly sweet. Ignoring his brother in favor of eating some cake Tommy made his way out to the kitchen with Ellie. Joel headed into the pantry to get food for Luna so she wouldn’t scream at them all night for being fed a little later than usual. Once everyone was sat down at the dining table you handed out plates and forks, settling close to Joel’s right side.

The cake was fluffy and delicious, the icing just sweet enough without being overbearing, it was truly a slice of heaven. Were you a baker that Joel had been keeping hidden, or was this something you just did on the side for the people you liked?

“I might have you bake a cake for my wife’s birthday, this is amazing,” Tommy would have to introduce the two of you first of course, but once she’d taste a slice of the cake Maria would surely be won over.

“Well if you two are free this saturday we could do a double date so she can meet Y/N, Ellie will be fine at home by herself,” Joel had stuffed the last piece of cake into his mouth, groaning happily at the taste.

Ellie was ecstatic, Joel only left her home alone if he was working late to make sure nothing went wrong with any of his contractors, this would be so different. Tommy nodded in agreement, it wouldn’t be hard to get his wife to agree to a date night, she liked Joel well enough that spending a few hours with him and his girlfriend didn’t sound like a chore.

“Sure, I’ll ask her when I go home tonight,” The night had started out a little strange, having to drive over to his brother's house because of Ellie’s panic, but now it just felt right.

You offered to cut a slice for Tommy’s wife, saying that there’s no way the three of you could eat anymore cake. Joel protested immediately, stating that he could eat nearly half the cake himself before he would need to stop. Ignoring the man you’d fallen in love with, you sliced a hefty piece of cake and set it into a container for Tommy to take home.

“This way she can see if she might want me to bake a cake for her birthday,” You playfully glared over at Joel as he tried to protest once more, huffing and crossing his arms as you all but shoved the container into Tommy’s arms.

The three of you said goodbye as he left, saying he would ask Maria about the double date to make sure she didn’t already have plans. You waited patiently for Ellie to say something, or even Joel as you all stood in the living room together.

“Alright, it’s late, you need to get to bed and I need to take a shower so time to get a move on,” It was barely past eight, but Joel liked to stick to a regimen.

For once Ellie didn’t put up much of a fuss about having to get ready for bed, or getting ready to relax for the night. Normally she’d complain and say that “well I’m not a baby, I don’t need to go to bed at eight” and Joel would brush it off. Now though? He was shocked as she all but ran up the stairs to head into her own bathroom and shower. Joel turned to look at you, raising a brow in silent question. You knew exactly what it entailed, happily following him up to his bedroom and into the ensuite.

Joel’s touch was always so gentle, whether the two of you were simply cuddling with a movie on, or were engaged in more intimate moments. Right now he was being careful not to irritate your skin, noticing that when you tackled one another you’d both manage to get a slight turf burn. It wasn’t anything serious, nothing worse than explaining to your coworkers why your arms had burns from spending the night with your boyfriend. Maybe you could steal one of Joel’s flannels so no one would ask questions.

While Joel washed your front, you spent that time scrubbing any dirt and grass that had managed to get in his hair. He was ready to melt in with the water that washed down the drain, your hands always felt so good.

“Don’t fall asleep on me Miller, we have to get into bed first,” You smiled watching the way he grumbled, claiming he wasn’t about to fall asleep on you.

It took a few more minutes, the two of you enjoying a quiet moment under the scalding spray from the shower head. Joel had redone both bathrooms by himself when he moved in, complaining the people before him had been stuck in the seventies. It was more modern, but with a comforting touch about it, that was partially due to you. Sarah had once occupied the room Ellie was in, updating it with her interests the older she got. It was Ellie’s turn now, the walls covered in posters of different musicians and some of her favorite comics covering the dresser and nightstand.

“I’m stealing your clothes, need something comfy to sleep in,” You had clothes hidden away in some of Joel’s drawers, mainly so Ellie hadn’t seen them, but his clothes just felt better.

“That’s alright hun, take whatever you want,” Joel grabbed his own pajamas, giving you some privacy to get dressed.

Most people were shocked to hear that you and Joel weren’t getting freaky nearly all the time, but it wasn’t at the forefront of your mind all the time, plus with Ellie not knowing about the relationship that made things more difficult. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to, there were definitely times you wanted to jump his bones, but you behaved. Joel crawled into bed first, pulling the blanket back to help you settle in.

“I was thinking, I want you to move in,” Joel was terrified. What if you said no and broke things off with him because he was moving too fast?

“Oh you’re lucky my lease is about to run out Miller,” You cuddled into his chest wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Is that a yes?” His heart felt as if it stopped, there was no way in hell you were actually agreeing to move in, he was obviously dreaming.

“It’s a yes, but you get to help me move any of my furniture out that you don’t want to keep,” Granted you had planned on donating almost all of it, except for your mattress since it was nearly as old as Ellie.

Joel chuckled to himself, tightening his arm around you to pull you flush to his side, tonight went better than expected. Ellie had welcomed you with open arms, and now you were going to be living with him permanently. He laid back against the pillows, listening to your soft slow breathing as you succumbed to sleep.

“I love you so much darling, sweet dreams,” Joel pressed a kiss to your hair before falling asleep himself.

And if you had all of your things moved in that weekend, well that was no one’s business besides yours and Joel’s.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us hbo #the last of us #hbo the last of us #tlou hbo #tlou #ellie williams #tommy miller #pedro pascal

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gch1995 · 1 year

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I always find it hilarious how often casting directors of Wuthering Heights film adaptations portray Ellen “Nelly” Dean as this elderly housekeeper next to Catherine Earnshaw, Hindley Earnshaw, Heathcliff, Edgar Linton, and Isabella Linton because that’s not who she is in the book at all.

In actuality, she’s about the same age as Hindley Earnshaw, who was only around 27-28 years old when he died, due to alcoholism. She’s only roughly six years older than Heathcliff and eight years older than Catherine Earnshaw/Linton Sr. She was only 14 years old when Mr. Earnshaw brought Heathcliff to Wuthering Heights, and they met. She was only in between her early-mid 20s when Cathy Sr accepted Edgar Linton’s proposal, and Heathcliff ran away after overhearing about how “it would degrade [Catherine] to marry him.” She was only in her late-twenties when Cathy Sr and Hindley Earnshaw died.

By the time we get into the second generation coming of age, Nelly’s story to Mr. Lockwood about these fucked up people she’s known and worked for from these two families since she was a child, Edgar Linton’s death, Isabella Linton’s death, Heathcliff’s death, and Cathy Linton Jr’s and Hareton Earnshaw’s engagement/upcoming marriage, Nelly is between her early-mid 40s.

At the end of the novel, Nelly has still just barely approached the beginning of “middle age” by the time Heathcliff and all this family drama surrounding the Earnshaws and Lintons. It’s why it just cracks me up how she’s always portrayed as this much more cynical and mature elderly lady in nearly every film. I guess, her being everyone else’s caretaker/servant everyone else’s favorite confidant, and her practical makes her attitude and personality comes across as someone you’d expect to be much older than her actual years

Granted, they also have often cast actors and actresses who are between their late-twenties to mid-thirties to portray Heathcliff and Cathy Sr as teenagers to early twenties. Of course, it’s also not uncommon for many people between their late-twenties to thirties, and sometimes even early 40s, to still get physically mistaken for being between their late-teens to mid-twenties since those are still fairly young years in adulthood, too. Juliet Binoche looked to be her actual age of 28 years old when she played the much younger 14-18 year old Cathy Sr and Cathy Jr Earnshaw/Linton, though.

Ralph Fiennes is actually my favorite actor’s portrayal of Heathcliff. I think he captured the anger, the charisma, the instability, the moodiness, the mystery, the obsessiveness, and the vague underlying sense of sympathy in Heathcliff the best. Physically, Ralph Fiennes is a white Caucasian actor, but to the the costume/make up department’s credit, they did have him wear a black wig and tan his skin enough to make him come across as mixed Romani in descent for this movie. Yeah, Nelly says his skin is “blacker than the devil,” but we also know that England was a very racist country towards outsiders who were not of pure white Anglo Saxon British descent back then, so Heathcliff could have been a lighter shade of tan than she said or he could have been dark brown. We don’t get a clear answer.

I also do love this scene of him talking to Nelly about being tired of getting revenge at the end of the 1992 Wuthering Heights film adaptation. They both appear to be around the right ages from the book here, and I love Nelly’s exasperated “Oh, for God’s sake…Can you please, stop staring like that!” She is so over and done with Heathcliff’s crazy bullshit, and the actress portraying Nelly here portrays that so well!

youtube

#wuthering heights #film adaptations #emily bronte #they always portray Nelly as an elderly woman in film adaptations of Wuthering heights #whereas in the novel she’s only just approached middle age by the time she meets Lockwood and heathcliff dies #heathcliff #nelly dean #janet mcteer #ralph fiennes #1992 Wuthering heights #Juliet binoche #hindley earnshaw #Youtube #in the novel Nelly’s the same age as Hindley Earnshaw and roughly three years older than Heathcliff

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phantomdialogue · 1 day

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˗ˏˋ. ݁₊ ✶ ˖ 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝟏𝟑 𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐨𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡 - 𝟓/𝟓 ☆ . ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

boys of tommen book two

premise: shannon lynch has never felt as loved as she does with johnny kavanagh. he says that he wants her "for keeps" but everything seems to be going too well for that to be a reality. she knows that the other shoe will drop eventually, and while johnny recovers from his poor choices with his health, she just keeps waiting.

couple: johnny kavanagh and shannon lynch

tropes: sports romance, high school age romance, friends to lovers, found family, slow burn, grumpy/sunshine ish

CHECK TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE READING!! - includes themes such as physical and verbal abuse (familial and not), bullying, sexual harassment, and more.

available on kindle unlimited

review below!

review:

i cried profusely through the last 5-10 chapters. i am so unbelievably attached to these characters and i could read about 500 books of them and never have it get old. i loved this book. this was better than book one to me in a few ways but i think most of all, it was the fact that we were already settled into the "world" and knew the people involved. the boys of tommen series involves a lot of characters that i think the reason i gave binding 13 4.5 stars instead of 5 was because there was a lot of the introductions that took a bit (even if i didn't fully mind it). this book, we are able to just jump right in and go back to these characters that we already know and love and that felt so good as a reader to do.

johnny's journey through this book made me so happy. i was nervous for what his choice would be at the end of the book but i think that chloe walsh does a great job of making sure that his thought process feels natural for a teenage boy in his shoes. he's not an adult thinking through all the things thrown at him and i feel like we got to see him be comfortable enough tapping into that still younger boy part of himself in this book which i adore.

oh, shannon. i wanted to give shannon the biggest hug through pretty much the whole book. she really deserves the world and when we got to see her start to come out of her shell towards the end and find her footing amongst her friends and her life, i was weeping because i just felt so proud of her (in the way you can be proud of a fictional character i guess haha). i feel like in the first book, we got to see what her weaknesses were, and in this book, we got to see her discover her strengths, and that made me so unbelievably happy.

this book has my heart. this series already has my heart. i need a little fluffy breather book before i keep going because i know joey's books, which are next, are going to hurt way more and i'm so excited. johnny kavanagh is one of the best book boyfriends of all time and i understand the hype now 100%.

q & a:

are they endgame? - yes. i don't know how to explain it but i just know that they are still together in the present day while they are nearly 40 years old and they have cute kids and the sweetest family with everyone involved as aunts and uncles. it's just something i know for a fact and i think if you read the books, you'll understand. they are just such a strong couple that grows so much individually as well as together that i have total faith they'd make it work long term.

did i cringe? - as i said for binding 13, the irish slang and teenage antics is an adjustment... HOWEVER i can't tell if i just have adjusted to it after the first book but i feel like this book has a lot less of the "cringey" aspects that i mentioned from binding 13. it has become far more natural in this book even more so than the first one and so it just is something that i don't really pay any attention to. like it's important to understand that, yes, these are teenagers. they will do and say stupid teenage things but i think you get used to it and it's not as standout in this book.

favorite part? - the found family. hands down. 100%. getting to read how everyone came together for shannon at the beginning and end of the book really just hit me so hard and the end with them all supporting johnny as well. i just really really adore this found family and the love they all have for each other while still having their flaws. they don't all get along 24/7. they fight and they mess up and they come back to together and i think that's part of what makes it so heartwarming. it's that idea of almost unconditional support, if not love. they are there for each other even when someone is upset with another. i can't wait to keep reading the series and get to see more of it because it truly just makes me so happy to read.

least favorite part? - this is another one where i'm not sure if i have an answer again just like the last book because i think that everything in here served its purpose. if i ignore what i know about the upcoming books, i'd say that i wish we had more of what was going on with gibsie+claire and joey+aoife. but i know that we get to go back to it in the next books and read it from their perspectives so it doesn't really bother me and just makes me more interested/excited in reading more.

favorite quotes (some spoilers here, of course, but minimal):

Promises made, promises broken—the Lynch family motto.

“Wrong school,” I offered with a half-hearted shrug. “Wrong life,” he whispered.

“I need you to take the lead here, Shannon,” he whispered. “You need to tell me what you want from me.” I could feel his heart hammering hard in his chest. The rhythm seemed to match mine. “Because I’m not making any mistakes with you.”

“Better. Alive. Free. Safe. Important. I feel like I can breathe for the first time in days, and that’s only because you’re here—because I’m with you.”

It was different because it mattered—because we mattered to each other.

“Thank you,” I whispered, pulling back to look at him. Johnny frowned in confusion. “For what?” “Asking the right questions.”

It’s like you see me—and I see you. Christ, I think you saw through me that very first day on the pitch at school, because I sure as hell haven’t been the same since, Shannon.

“My life is complicated.” “I want your complications.”

“That from the very first day you walked into my life, you changed me. That very first time I saw you? You sparked to life something inside of me.”

I wanted the world to stop and let us both off because this, right here, was where I wanted to be—where I wanted to stay.

“I’m not in your corner, Shannon,” Johnny replied in a gruff tone. “I’m standing right beside you.”

“You woke me up, Shan. Made me see things differently. Gave me a life outside of rugby. Something to look forward to.”

“You smell like home.” Shivering, I curled my body around hers and pressed a kiss to the curve of her jaw. “You are home.”

“You’re my little darling,” he slurred. “My whole heart’s inside of ya.”

When we’re apart like this, I feel unsteady, like I’m balancing a weight on my shoulders and my reward for not dropping it is seeing your face again.

I belonged with this boy and he belonged with me.

#⊹₊ ⋆ᯓ★ book review #bookblr #book review #review #keeping 13 #chloe walsh #boys of tommen #keeping 13 chloe walsh

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didasgomas · 1 month

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All it takes is one bad day

Day 26 of @augusnippets

Prompts: Nightmare/Warm blanket/Snuggling

Trigger warnings : Heavily implied PTSD nightmare on a teenager, referenced terrorist hijack, death of a child, referenced loss of family members

Important part of "In Mortality", an au of Cut Down The Altar, story created by @missr3n3

Author's note: The title references one of Joker's most famous lines during his multiple monologues

February 19th, 1972

Everything was okay. They were going to spend a week in Rose county as part of their vacations.

Mom and dad were there with her, as were all her siblings: Jan, Grace and Georgianna, Jade and Timothy.

The train ride was fun at first. Everyone was happy and there were so many pretty sights to admire through the window.

But then something changed.

People in red masks, shouting orders. Some left for the other carriage while one stayed, holding a gun. A man jumped behind him, Timothy made a run for one of the carriage's exits.

The sound of two gunshots, loud screaming, her little brother's dead body facing all of them.

Then the whole train derailed and the carriage collapsed on top of everyone.

They were stuck under the metal until her dad managed to lift up part of ceiling with another man's help. Those that could climbed out as soon as possible, but not everyone was conscious or able to move.

She was the last one to climb out. She had lost track of her family, there was too much going on for her to be able to follow any of their voices, and Winter made it so the first rays of sunshine were only just becoming visible.

The air was so cold. She tried to call out to her dad, she wanted to help him out too, but he told her to run.

She did, running straight inside the nearby forest, not seeing anywhere safer to hide in. Cateline heard more gunshots behind her, and what sounded like her father screaming, but she did as he told her and kept running.

She was able to find Jade at some point, still alive, but the darkness made it impossible for her to notice her little sister's almost crushed leg and the infection on it. Then when she thought she had heard their mother's voice, she left Jade alone for just a few minutes.

Cateline was so desperate. Her mother's voice started to fade, and she went back to her sister, scared and confused.

Jade was no longer talking or breathing.

Cateline yelled out for help in tears, cradling her sister's lifeless body. She didn't know what else she could do. She wasn't a child anymore but she was still so young and had never been in such a situation before.

She heard several men talking loudly, and there were lights nearby.

They tried to calm her dowm the best they could, said they'd take her to her mother, that they'd found her too.

She had to let go of Jade's body.

…

February 23rd, 1973

Cateline Viderlan woke up covered in sweat.

She bolted out of bed towards Jan's bedroom.

On that terrible attack last year, she had lost her father and three of her five siblings. Only Jan, Georgianna and herself remained.

Her mother had been left with neurogenic atrophy in nearly all of her leg muscles, not to mention a widow plus having lost half of all her beloved children. Mom left her job at Eclipse Academy, and turned dad's study into her new bedroom, incapable of sleeping in the room she had shared with her husband for 40 years.

Cateline passed next to it on her way to her brother's room. Mom had just locked it up for the foreseeable future, but it was like their dad's presence still hadn't left.

She simply walked faster. She could have gone to Gina's room, but Jan was the eldest and his room was the closest to hers.

There was a small light inside his bedroom. His insomnia had already been present before, but following the incident, it had worsened tenfold. He had needed to freeze college for a year, and would only return to his course that September.

Softly knocking on the door, she didn't wait for his answer before opening the door. She could apologize in the morning.

Jan got up from his desk. Cateline didn't manage to identify what he had been reading.

"Cat? What happened?"

"Nightmare. Bad one."

Her voice was somewhat shaky, but she wasn't going to cry. She rarely cried before, she couldn't afford to cry now that her family was still only beginning to recover.

Jan went up to her and took his sister in his arms. Neither of them cried, but God, did they need this hug.

"I know, Cat, I know. We're going to be alright."

#augusnippets day 26 #cdta #cut down the altar #cdta in mortality #my writing #cdta cateline #cdta the viderlans #tw ptsd #tw terrorism #tw child death

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mydisenchantedeulogy · 1 month

Text

True [Chapter Two] Swan Dive [Bakugou Katsuki]

Warning(s): OCs, nostalgia, reunions, Katsuki being Katsuki, sadness, aged-up characters, memories, post-breakup, heartbreak.

No Minors Allowed!!

From the nearest international airport, Airi took the United Airlines to Chicago, then flew to Haneda. The final leg of her journey took her from Chitose in Hokkaido to Shizuoka on the All Nippon Airways (ANA). She arrived in Musutafu on Friday morning, nearly 2 days after she left Falmore in America. Tired was an understatement.

Kaito Usui, her father, then picked her up from the airport. He was a meek man in his early 50s with unkempt hair that made him appear feral despite his passive demeanor. His eyes were tired, but he looked no less happy to see her. Airi tried to insist that she would rent a room while she was in Japan, for him to drop her off at the nearest, cheapest hotel, but he refused to let her; there was no reason she could not retake her old bedroom, he claimed. She was in no position to argue.

Part of the reason she wanted to stay in a hotel was because she did not want to mooch off her parents, the other reason was because even though she had come home for a reunion, she still had work to do. Akinori Chibana pulled some strings with the higher-ups of 'Synergos', giving her a week. There were no clear orders as to what she would be doing, but Airi was told to keep her phone close.

She put the matter aside for the time being and stared nostalgically out the passenger side window at the quiet, charming neighborhood as Kaito pulled into the driveway of a two-bedroom single-family home. It looked the same as when she left, with its stained white exterior siding that was in desperate need of a power wash. The garden was still there, alive with hydrangeas and tulips, and so too was the hemlock that grew beside her bedroom window; the same hemlock she used to sneak in and out when she was a teenager. Leaving the car, she took a deep breath, then stretched her sore back.

"Home sweet home, right kiddo," Kaito stated.

Airi smiled widely. It certainly was. She retrieved her suitcase from the trunk, then followed her father inside, humming as the silence of the house permeated her ears.

"Is Mom awake?"

"She didn't tell you?" Kaito asked, raising a curious brow. "She got a temp job at the bank."

No, she certainly did not tell her. While Airi was glad that her mother was again healthy, she wished that she would take it easy. Mao Usui was bedridden from the time Airi was in Junior High to the time she graduated from the Hero Course. It was not a serious illness, but due to years of Quirk drawbacks, she suffered terrible headaches that made it hard for her to function. When Airi joined 'Synergos' the severeness of her mother's headaches fortunately lessened, and her days of bedrest were over.

"So long as she doesn't exert herself," Airi uttered.

Kaito smiled. "How happy she would be to hear that." He paused, removed his shoes at the door, then ambled into the kitchen. "Do you want something to eat?"

Airi followed suit.

“I ate between the flights. I honestly might just rest for a while. Izuku and I are meeting after he gets off work. I promised to help him decorate the event hall where the reunion is taking place.”

“Busy day,” Kaito pointed out.

He had no idea.

“You know where your room is,” he added. “Mao left you a change of sheets on the bed.”

Patting her on the head, Kaito Usui wandered into the living room. For a moment, Airi felt nostalgic; she felt like a teenager again, standing in the kitchen with her father - in his early 40s at the time - as he listened to her whine about boy troubles. That was the least of her problems back then.

She sighed in regret, then toted her suitcase upstairs. Her room, ironically, was just as she left it. Most of her belongings, the ones she did not take with her to America, were packed in boxes in the closet, but the bones were still there; the twin-sized bed, the dresser, and the writing desk in front of the window. Memories came flooding back to her, both happy and sad.

Airi quickly prepared the bed, tossed a warm floral comforter over the matching sheets, and then laid out her suitcase. Even if she was just home for a week, her mother would scold her if she did not at least put away her clothes. She paired them, put her underclothes in the dresser, and then opened her closet. Before she left home, she stacked the boxes haphazardly inside, a fact she had forgotten until a loose box tumbled out at her. The contents spilled onto the floor, making her jump, then groan protest.

“What a warm welcome.”

Reluctantly she bent down to gather the contents, coming upon the realization that the box had been used to store knickknacks that had no place among the other boxes. Airi noticed a strip of RC paper, the kind used in photo booths, and turned it over, seeing two individual black and white images; the last was slightly torn as though she had carelessly ripped the next wallet-sized picture off and accidentally damaged it. She had, and she knew exactly why. Each one was of her and Katsuki.

The afternoon these were taken was the day after the U.S.J. incident. Katsuki took her to the arcade, even though at first, she did not want to go. In the end, she caved, because she realized that the two of them needed some normality after the fight. He did not act fazed, but she knew that the events were weighing on him; they certainly were weighing on her.

The faith she had in herself, as a novice hero, was shattered. Airi considered telling Katsuki he was right; she was not suited to be a hero. The drawback of her Quirk was too much. It almost mimicked the same drawback her mother suffered; severe headaches.

She tightened her jaw, rubbing her sore temples as though the action alone would ease the pain. Something about the vibrant lights from the machines made her eyes sensitive, a fact that she did not disclose to Katsuki as she sent him to get her a cupcake from the nearby kiosk, much to his irritation.

Why was this happening to her? Now of all times. She hardly used her Quirk beyond her ten-minute limit during the fight inside the Downpour Zone. Tokoyami Fumikage put forth the most effort, capturing the most villains. All Airi did was support him, yet she wound up damaged the most by the drawback. It hit hard, especially after the incident when she stood back and watched her classmates come out more firm in their decision to be a hero. But not her. She was scared.

Airi sighed in sadness, feeling tears sting her sore eyes. It was not fair. She knew the dangers; she told herself that this was what she wanted, but nothing could prepare her for what she went through. It was infuriating. Her vision blurred, but quickly so as not to draw attention to herself, she stood and squeezed into a nearby photo booth. With the privacy curtains hiding her from the rest of the arcade, she sobbed, covering her mouth to hold in the noises.

For a moment, the dark corners of her mind closed in on her, judgemental and suffocating, but then the curtains abruptly slid back and like an electric shock, Airi stiffened and stared in surprise at Bakugou Katsuki as he peered into the booth. In his hand, he held the cupcake.

“The hell are you doing?” He rasped. His brows knitted in suspicion.

It was not hard to see that Airi was crying. Her tears gave her away. They did not pour down her cheeks; with her Quirk, the tears floated in front of her face.

“I um…I–”

Katsuki growled beneath his breath, then strode in, sitting beside her. The cupcake he shoved into her hands, ignoring her squeak of protest as he dug into his pocket for a handful of Yen. He put 500 worth into the machine, then pressed a vibrant white button near the top of the screen. A countdown soon began.

“W-why did you–”

“Just sit back and focus on the damn screen, fuck munch,” Katsuki interjected.

Her tears fell to the floor with a soft plip as she hurried to make herself more presentable. Airi forced a smile, then the light flashed as the image was taken. She knew she looked terrible, but the sentiment was appreciated. Before the flash went off again, she linked her arm around Katsuki's upper arm and leaned her head against his shoulder.

The next photo was much the same, with Katsuki looking flushed and Airi smiling mockingly. Then the final, much to her annoyance, was an image of him, pressing the cupcake into her face. The chocolate icing was smeared across her skin while Katsuki grinned in satisfaction.

She would then later give the final two images to Katsuki. The first two she kept, stored away in the depths of the box until now. An array of emotions washed over her, as she stared down at the young faces forever captured in silent bliss. She missed him; missed the way he subtly made her feel better about herself. Tears blurred her eyes. She shoved the strip back into the box, cleaned up, then laid down for a nap.

Those days were over. Like it or not, she was not getting them back.

–

Around lunchtime, Airi left the house and traveled into the city. She made sure to text Izuku before she got off the train, heading to their meeting spot, an intersection that sat between their houses. While she waited for him, she bought a bottle of water from a nearby vending machine, quenching her thirst. The heat was almost unbearable, a sign that she had gotten used to the AC in her little Honda. She whined, fanning herself with her hand. Honestly, she considered pouring the water over her head, but before she built up the nerve, someone strode into her eyesight.

Airi smiled widely. Midoriya Izuku stood before her, mid-twenties and somehow still as pure as she remembered, even with the scars on his face and the ones peeking out from beneath the cuffs of his suit.

“Izuku,” she uttered.

The urge to hug him was too tempting. Airi stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his back. He returned the hug.

“It's good to see you again,” He stated.

Airi agreed with a nod, then stepped back, chuckling as he tried to cover the blush on his face. She looked him over, then raised her hand, gesturing toward him.

“Look at you, all dressed to impress.”

“I work as a teacher at U.A. now,” Izuku mentioned with a soft smile. He ran a hand through his fluffy green hair. “But I'm more interested in hearing what you've been up to. I saw on the internet some of the work that Synergos has been doing. It's impressive the traction they have gained overseas.”

Airi felt her face heat up. While she was not surprised that Izuku was looking in on his friends, it felt nice to have him gush over her like he used to with the Pro Heroes from his past. She was glad to see that he had not changed much.

To humor him, Airi talked briefly about her past few years with Synergos; the rebuild in Falmore, and the job before that, which let her travel to one of the biggest cities in America for charity work. She learned, as they walked, that Izuku and Aizawa Shouta, their former instructor, worked together; the latter semi-retired from being at the front line as a hero. By the time the two were at the event hall in downtown Musutafu, the weather only seemed to get hotter. Airi was relieved to feel the cool air circulating through the building. She hummed, then stood in shock at what she saw.

The event hall was in the process of being decorated, but already so much had been done to it. Numerous round tables were lining the outside of what Airi assumed - if Ashido Mina had a say so in the way things were decorated - was a dance floor, though currently it was being occupied by fog machines and bags of party favors colored to match U.A. colors; gray and green.

“Woah,” Airi uttered in awe.

“It's coming along well, isn't it?” Asked a familiar voice.

Airi turned, widening her eyes. Two of her fellow U.A. alumni stood in the doorway, having wandered in from the humid summer heat.

The first was Yaoyarozu Momo, former vice president. She was taller than Airi remembered with multiple thin strands of silky hair hanging in her face, having fallen loose from her ponytail. Then beside her, being the one to catch Airi's attention, was Kirishima Kairi. As twins, Kairi was the spitting image of Eijirou, though, unlike her brother, she shared no admiration for his hero Crimson Riot and wore her hair natural and long.

Around her arm was a reusable bag from the nearest convenience store, which she dug through, handing a bottle of water and a granola bar to Izuku, who thanked her softly.

“I'd give you a kiss, Bunny, but I'm all sweaty,” she stated, with a shark-line grin.

Bunny. Wait! Airi glanced between the two of them in shock. Were they…

They were. Izuku's face was heated, trying to hide behind his arms, which were crossed in front of his face.

“No one told me,” Airi pouted.

“I found out a week ago,” Momo admitted.

Kairi rocked on her heels. They had not told many, though Airi should not be too surprised; the two were rather close in U.A.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “Everyone was busy, so we kept it to ourselves. Well, and Eijirou.”

Airi playfully narrowed her eyes.

“I see how it is. Yaomomo and I will just leave you two cinnamon rolls to your dirty secret.”

Momo nodded in agreement, but Izuku was mortified, steaming like a vegetable. He waved his hands in defense.

“I-it's not like that.”

The three laughed at his reaction.

–

As the afternoon went on, the workload lessened and the event hall transformed into a paradise of sparkling streamers and paper flowers. Airi sat with Momo on the floor, hand-painting a welcome banner to hang above the dance floor for everyone to see. She was in awe of her former classmate.

Like her, Momo traveled abroad after graduating. Based on her stories, she toured elementary schools, expanding the Hero role; Quirk Counseling, and similar essential roles. It was impressive, even more so when she learned that Uraraka Ochaco spearheaded the operation.

“Italy was a beautiful country,” Momo mentioned fondly. She painted another layer on the ‘L’ in ‘Welcome’. “I hope you get the chance to see it one day.”

Airi too. At the moment, ‘Synergos’ was stationed in America, but there was talk about an expansion. She would love to see every country. Peeking up from her work, she hummed as she did not see Izuku or Kairi in the room. She had not seen them in a while, she noted.

“Do you know where the love birds went?”

Momo glanced at her briefly, then returned to her task.

“Most likely they went to meet with Eijirou. He is supposed to be coming by with supplies.”

Airi hummed. She worked quietly for a while until she heard the entrance door come open. Peeking over her shoulder, she smiled as she noticed the love birds walk in. With them was Kirishima Eijirou looking more untamed than ever. His hair was red; longer and spiker. In one arm he held a large box, having no problem toting it. The other waved at them.

“Yaomomo…Airi, hey!”

The two waved back. He brought up a finger as if to say ‘Just a moment’ then held the door open with his foot. Then someone else entered, toting two boxes stacked on top of one another. Airi should have recognized him immediately; his bare scarred arms held her briefly the day she boarded the plane for America. She bristled.

“Pull your damn weight, hair-for-brains,” Bakugou Katsuki rasped. “I can't carry the entire damn haul myself.”

“I can get it, Kacchan,” Izuku suggested.

The blonde shot him a glare.

“I didn't ask you, Deku.”

He was just as loud as ever. The only difference Airi noticed was that his hair was styled in an undercut. In addition to the scars on his face - a product of the war - and his pierced ears, he looked more feral. As handsome as he was, she knew there was no way he was popular with the citizens of Musutafu. Outside the class, not many people even knew he had a softer, honorable side.

Then as if he felt her eyes on him, he met her gaze. Airi froze. Her stomach twisted in dread and she considered hiding her face from him, but it was far too late. Despite the others talking, the silence between them was deafening. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, and then to her shock, he turned away from her.

“Hey, diamond girl!” He shouted, gaining Kairi's attention.

Airi did not hear what he said to her, but he passed to her the boxes, which she held with ease, and then he turned and walked out of the building. Her heart sank. What did she expect? That he was just going to be pleased to see her? No, she knew it would be this way; she knew it would hurt. And it did. It hurt so much.

Katsuki was the one who deserved to be upset. Not her. At this moment, Airi wished that she had just ignored Izuku's message.

#mha katsuki #my hero academia fanfiction #katsuki bakugou x oc #oc #katsuki bakugou #my hero academia fandom #Spotify

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fuckyeah-jessicabiel · 2 years

Photo

Jessica Biel for Vogue, February 2010

The Real Biel

You can learn all sorts of interesting things about a person on a road trip together. For example: Jessica Biel is a very good driver. She is behind the wheel of a Subaru heading north from Vancouver toward Whistler, one of the ski resorts hosting the Olympics this month. Because of record-breaking snow, Biel has decided to ditch the more traditional plans she’d made for our interview and hit the slopes instead. So here we are, side by side, snacking on trail mix and listening to the sound track to Where the Wild Things Are. In the car in front of us is Biel’s assistant and best friend, Lindsay Ratowsky, who is being driven with all of our bags and equipment. Our mini caravan left Vancouver in the late afternoon in a downpour, and now we are driving in the dark in a snowstorm. Wearing jeans and hiking boots, Biel, who grew up in Boulder, Colorado, and has been snowboarding since she was a kid, is utterly in her element. “This is very much a me moment: in the snow, in the Subaru, listening to music,” she says. “I feel really at peace in this environment.”

It’s a far cry from where we were two hours ago, when Biel had 40 pounds of ammo strapped around her waist and an M4 semiautomatic assault rifle hoisted above her right shoulder. We were on the outskirts of Vancouver in an empty warehouse the size of a Walmart, part of the soundstage where she has been filming The A-Team. Paul, a dashing fellow with a British accent whom Biel describes as the “resident badass,” was teaching her the finer points of racking and reloading. After Biel squeezed off several deafening rounds, Paul calculated the number of mistakes she made and then said, “Twenty-four!” She dropped to the floor and gave him two dozen push-ups. It was only then that I noticed that she is as thin as a teenage boy and all muscle. Her usual Jessica Rabbit curves have all but disappeared, the red-carpet Sex Bomb nowhere to be found.

Who is Jessica Biel? Let’s admit it: She is a bit of a cipher. The girls who read the tabloids think of her as Justin Timberlake’s on-again, off-again girlfriend; my aunt Nancy thinks of her as little Mary Camden from the mid-nineties WB series 7th Heaven; and most men under 40 think of her as the smokin’ hottie who let Adam Sandler massage her breasts in I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry. I think it is fair to say that Jessica Biel has not yet experienced a unifying cultural moment. In other words: She can still ride the subway, which, in fact, she tells me she just did the other day. “I talked to a girl who liked my shoes,” she says. “ ‘Oh, those are cute. Where’d you get those?’ ‘I got them at Barneys.’ ‘Are you from New York?’ ‘No, I’m from out of town.’ ‘Oh, cool. Nice to talk to you.’ ‘Nice to talk to you!’ ”

My own expectations were equally off-base; I imagined her as a sort of modern-day Raquel Welch. I thought she would purr. But that notion was shattered the instant I met her. It does not take long to figure out that Jessica Biel is a mellow creature, a young woman who appears to be completely at ease with herself and who meets the world on her own terms. I spent nearly two full days with her, and not once did I see her tense up. This is at least partly due to how she was raised. She describes her parents as hippies. “They are major outdoor people,” she says. “They rafted the Grand Canyon when they were in their 20s. They are an incredible couple.”

Her father, Jon, worked for GE for many years and ran his own business consultancy in Boulder. “He is extremely motivated and ambitious,” she says. “I get those qualities from him.” Her mother, Kim, grew up one of six kids in a small town a few hours southwest of Denver where Jessica and her parents both own cabins on adjoining properties. Her mother’s side of the family is part Native American: Those crazy-high cheekbones are shared by her younger brother, mother, and grandmother. When she tells me that her parents dehydrate their own food, culture their own vegetables, and make their own coconut kefir, I can’t help laughing. “I actually do, too!” she says.

One of the benefits of having hippie parents is that they tend to indulge whimsy. Handbell choir! Jazz and tap class! By the time Biel was in her early teens, she was training as a level-six gymnast and starring in local musicals. One summer she took a commercial-acting class. It led to a talent convention in Los Angeles, which landed her an agent and a scholarship to a kids’ acting school. “I was hooked,” she says. It was around this time that her parents started making sacrifices so she could be in L.A. for pilot season. “It was stressful, for sure: my mom leaving my brother when he was so little for months at a time; my dad having to deal on his own. Sometimes I look back and think, God, you guys were crazy for letting some twelve-year-old do what she wanted. I mean, they did everything for me.”

It paid off. In 1996, when she was fourteen, Biel was cast as the levelheaded eldest daughter, Mary Camden, on the weirdly successful Aaron Spelling series 7th Heaven, a treacly morality lesson dressed up as a weekly family drama about a progressive reverend and his family. It ran for eleven seasons and is—get this—the longest-running family drama in television history. But as the show became a staple in Middle America’s living rooms, Biel blossomed into a knockout and began to chafe at the limitations of playing the same Goody Two-shoes year after year. She wanted out. It is now part of showbiz legend—and one of Biel’s enduring regrets—that just a few weeks shy of her eighteenth birthday, she posed nearly naked for the cover of Gear, a magazine owned by Bob Guccione, Jr., and got her wish. If in the end it turned out to be a savvy move, freeing her from a stultifying character, at the time it infuriated her colleagues. Stephen Collins, her TV dad, called it “child pornography,” and Spelling released her from her contract after the fourth season.

Now, as she is focused, laser-like, on getting us through the storm, she seems thoughtful about the whole episode. “I really wanted to go to college, and it all kind of happened at the same time. I did this photo shoot; the photo shoot came out; it was terribly embarrassing. I had to apologize to everybody, including my parents. It was a big learning experience: learning how to have boundaries and how to say no.”

Not surprisingly, Biel has a lot of empathy for young girls dealing with adolescence in front of an audience. “I have this overwhelming motherly feeling toward them. Just do what you gotta do, girls! Hold it together! I wish everyone would just leave them alone.” Biel has clearly figured out the importance of maintaining some semblance of autonomy in a highly scrutinized life. She likes to drive by herself the eighteen hours from L.A. to Boulder with her dogs—even though everyone tells her it’s dangerous. When I mention that Gwen Stefani wrote the song “Just a Girl” about this very phenomenon—pretty girls being cautioned not to go anywhere alone—Biel says, “Rock on, girl. I feel her pain.”

Suddenly we hit a backup on the highway. There has been an accident. If we have a minor accident, it will add drama to the story, I say. “I was thinking that, too!” she says. “Actually, I was just thinking, Where are my gloves? Because if we crash we’ll have to get out, and we’ll have to be warm.” She laughs. “And then I took it to another level: What if I kill him? My other thought was, At least they would test me for drugs and alcohol and I would be clean. I would not go to jail. But you would be dead, and it would be horrible! There’s no good outcome!” We are laughing when we finally pass the scene of the crime. “What is she doing in a skirt?” says Biel, looking at the woman who has obviously caused this mess. “And high-heeled boots?” She looks over at me and smiles. “We are going to get there alive. I just know it. I have good karma.”

If Jessica Biel seems to live a charmed personal life (rumors of breakups notwithstanding), she hasn’t had such great luck in her career. Not long after we arrive at our hotel, we meet for dinner at the restaurant downstairs. Biel shows up wearing black Frye motorcycle boots, dark-blue jeans that look like leggings, a loose black scoop-neck T-shirt, a droopy red Steven Alan cardigan, and a chunky white Chanel watch. Once again, she winds up in the driver’s seat, engaging our waitress on the wine list and then talking me into ordering a Gewürztraminer. At one point she asks the waitress about the halibut. “Is it still in season? Is it nice?” It’s really nice, says the waitress perfunctorily. “I don’t know if I believe you,” Biel says to her in the most startling, matter-of-fact way. “Talk to me more about it.” The waitress admirably rises to the challenge. Finally convinced, Biel orders the dish (and cleans her plate).

The conversation quickly settles on her vexed post-TV career, which goes like this: ill-conceived remake of famous horror film; tragic Bret Easton Ellis adaptation; even more tragic Kim Basinger vehicle; meaningless third installment of Blade franchise; terrible movie; terrible movie . . . The Illusionist! Starring Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti, it is easily the best film Biel has been in. Though it was not a commercial hit, it is a pleasure to watch, and Biel is believable as a Viennese woman from the turn of the last century. “A lot of times people I work with have said, ‘Oh, this movie is going to be the one,’ and then nothing happens. But with The Illusionist I felt it more than ever, that people really started to see me differently.”

And then there is Biel’s run of bad luck with great directors. Cameron Crowe cast her in Elizabethtown, a film that flopped on a grand scale, and David O. Russell gave her the lead in Nailed, based on Kristin Gore’s novel Sammy’s Hill, about a woman with no health insurance who gets a nail lodged in her head and goes to Washington to fight for justice. “Jess was tired of being cast as merely sultry and was more than ready to throw down for all the weird behavior a nail in the head gives her character,” says Russell. “She auditioned and went for it—she is fearless.” Gore (Al’s daughter), who co-wrote the screenplay with Russell, spent three months with Biel on the set in South Carolina. “I think her range is something that has yet to be discovered by the larger world,” she says. “She also has this preternatural self-assurance.” The production shut down because of money problems with just one thing left to shoot: the scene where Biel gets the nail shot into her head. That was in 2008, and with each passing month it grows ever less likely that her most challenging film work to date will make it to the screen.

Meanwhile, the film industry has gone through a major upheaval since the recession. “The last year in this business has been harsh,” says Biel. “There’s no material. Nobody wants to make dramas. And that’s what we all want to do.” What is getting produced, she says, are “commercial movies—horror movies, big romantic comedies, and action movies. Those can be great, but you don’t want to do only those kinds of films. You can’t live on éclairs alone. You have to have a spinach salad every now and again.”

For now, however, she gorges on éclairs. This month she stars in Valentine’s Day, an ensemble romantic comedy, directed by Garry Marshall, that features a galaxy of A-list stars: Julia Roberts, Jamie Foxx, Anne Hathaway, Jennifer Garner, Patrick Dempsey, and so on. Biel plays a neurotic sports publicist and toxic bachelorette. “I really get to play crazy,” she says gleefully. “A girl who has hit the wall with wanting to find a man. And I get to do some broad comedy; it’s a little Lucille Ball-esque.” And who better than Garry Marshall to direct her? “She was so eager to do physical comedy, in particular, because she knew I worked with Lucy and with my sister on Laverne & Shirley,” Marshall says. “She sings a wild song in the movie; it’s kind of down-and-dirty singing, and it’s really great.”

Biel and Garner became friends on the shoot. “She’s incredibly girly and warm and open—all of the things she seems to buck against when she’s looking at roles,” says Garner. “The first scene that I did with her, she was drunk in the scene. It’s hard to play drunk, not to overdo it. But she did it in such a subtle, real, kind of pathetic but very, very deeply funny way. I was, take one, totally impressed.”

The dearth of good material has pushed Biel to diversify her portfolio, so to speak. Last August, she was cast alongside Brian Stokes Mitchell when the Los Angeles Philharmonic did a three-night concert version of Guys and Dolls at the Hollywood Bowl. Biel took everyone by surprise with what director Richard Jay-Alexander described as her beautiful, “silvery” singing voice. On the last night, she received a rousing standing ovation from 17,000 people. More recently, she landed a part in Lincoln Center Theater’s two-week-long workshop of the musical version of the Pedro Almodóvar classic Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, along with Salma Hayek, who plays the lead. “I think they are going to put it up in the fall,” she says hopefully. “And I think they will approach me again.” A girl can dream, can’t she? As far as Garner is concerned, Biel should: “There’s nothing between her and bigger things except for one job.”

The next morning we wake up to discover that the snow has turned to rain. By the time we arrive at the base of the mountain, there is only one gondola running, and the line stretches all the way through the village. Deflated, we decide to eat breakfast in a honky-tonk saloon that reeks of last night’s beer. Amid the German techno music, the Madonna/Justin Timberlake song “4 Minutes” suddenly blasts over the sound system, and we stare down at our plates awkwardly. Biel looks up at me with a big smile on her face and punctures the silence: “Dance break!” (We had another awkward moment in the car during our drive when Biel was talking about her style. “I like really überfeminine, classic-looking things mixed with something rougher around the edges. I’ve been looking at Rihanna a lot, checking her out. She’s got something going on that I am sort of craving a little bit.” I nearly choked on my trail mix. I could not tell whether this was a Freudian slip, some worrisome Single White Female voodoo, or a calculated little piece of spin designed to show me that she is unthreatened by the rumors that her man has eyes for the diva from Barbados.)

Biel and Timberlake have been an item since 2007 and for a long time looked like a happy couple. Recently, however, they have had to endure all manner of tabloid speculation about their private lives. Biel recently laughed off the rumors to a reporter, saying, “It’s definitely been weird and sort of bizarre to deal with. But you have to have a sense of humor about the whole thing. Honestly, I look at a magazine and they know more than I do.” Last night at dinner I brought it up and was met with steely resolve. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “I don’t feel the need to clear anything up. It’s the most precious thing that I have in my life, and I care about it so much that I don’t care about what anyone says or thinks. I have just not addressed it in any real way, and I’m not going to. It’s mine. And I really like that about it.”

There is something refreshing about a girl with boundaries, someone who has her priorities in order despite the relentlessness of the tabloids and the strangeness of doing drills in some warehouse far away from her own life. And if there is a sense that potentially great things await Jessica Biel—that she has not yet shown us who she is and what she is capable of—it’s hard not to wonder what exactly is holding her back.

One possible answer came up during our dinner, when we were talking about her va-va-voom image—so at odds with how she really is. “When I see myself in pictures with makeup on, even to this day, I think it looks weird. My eyes get squintier and smaller. On the red carpet, I’m playing a character. As soon as I get off that thing I think, Oof, wipe that gloss off. I’m wiping and wiping and pulling my hair out and trying to change my outfit. I’m immediately trying to get comfortable. It’s really a part I play.”

One wonders why she can’t just play herself. In person she projects such a winning and natural beauty. As Jennifer Garner puts it, “She’s not just beautiful, she’s kind of on another level, but there’s an earthiness and a strength to it.” Too much makeup and the wrong dress seem to smother all that, and it’s a disconnect that clearly extends to the roles she chooses.

We eventually make our way up the mountain, and above 1,200 feet, it is snowing: The skiing is sublime. Not surprisingly, Biel is both goofy and confident on her snowboard. Afterward, we head back to the hotel lounge; her assistant, Lindsay, joins us, and Biel orders an old-fashioned. At one point someone took a picture of her on the slopes and she said to me, “Smile for Biel.” Now she explains: “My grandmother, whom we call Biel, thinks it’s very unbecoming of me not to smile for the paparazzi. So every time I see them I think, Smile for Biel!”

This is a reminder of why Jessica Biel is so grounded: Her family keeps her that way. When I point this out, she says, “I might just be way too boring to ever be a really great actress.” Great actresses can live boring lives, I say. It’s great stars who kick dust up everywhere they go.

“I don’t do that,” says Biel. “Maybe I should do a little bit more of that.” She laughs at the thought. “A dust kicker-upper might be kind of fun. . . .”

Lindsay pipes up: “Think of your life if you were like that, though. I would probably hate you. Your boyfriend probably wouldn’t be that into you. You’d be a big bitch.” But it’s clear that Lindsay thinks the world of her boss. “If you met her at a barbecue, you would never know that she was a movie star,” she says. “To her friends, Jess is the most compassionate, caring, kind, loving, wonderful human being that they know.”

“See?” says Biel. “Nothing that interesting!”

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