#please note that serving dish man is as long as my forearm for the bowl part alone

[gophergal]

Update on Serving Dish Man

Skull bowl

I've been working on incorporating figures into functional pottery

Also J and I have been doing some slip casting. These were our test pieces, but we have a lot more done lmao

[bitches-who-write]

Can you do headcanons siblings of the gang ? Like, how they act with them and how they treat them and how they let the gang act with them ?

Somewhat important note below~

So we know we said we take requests on a first come, first serve basis; however for the sake of time today (and due to the fact that we did not post anything last week) we decided to take on this request early. PLEASE do not be offended or upset if you are still waiting for your request! We promise we will be getting to them ALL. After this post now, we will go back to our fist come, first serve rule.

We have a few requests which we'll be writing longer stories for vs casual headcannons. Stories typically take us several hours to complete since your 2 lovely bitches who write do not live close enough to one another. We write together via FaceTime and Google Doc. We appreciate all your support and patience with us as we write you guys the best content possible! Enough rambling now, Enjoy these headcannons!!!

Patrick With A Little Sister-

Oh boy… Patrick is crazy over protective of his little sister.

Maybe the word should be obsessive and controlling instead~

He watches her every move. He even comes into her room as she sleeps just to occasionally check on her.

Whenever she gets out of Belch’s car heading to school, Patrick keeps a close eye on her again. Mentally noting everyone she talks to.

He makes sure everyone is in line. It doesn’t matter if it’s an adult or a kid. If they do something Patrick doesn’t like, they’re getting fucked up.

Patrick refuses to let guys talk to her. Only Henry, Vic and Belch are allowed to.

When Patrick isn’t around, he puts the other Bower’s Gang members in charge of her. And she knows well enough to listen to them.

He sometimes makes inappropriate comments about her, resulting in a smack off the head by the other guys.

Patrick LOVES to mess with her.

Always holding things over her head so she can’t reach.

Laughs as she tries to jump up and grab it from him.

He’ll lean down and rest his arms on the top of her head since she’s so much smaller than him.

When she doesn’t listen to Patrick, he will literally just pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and laugh as she struggles to get down.

Even though she’s a girl and a few years younger than him, doesn’t mean she’s safe from how rough Patrick gets.

He still wrestles her to the ground and puts her in a damn headlock.

Definitely gets a few bruises from Patrick playfully hitting her. (Patrick doesn't realize his own strength.)

One word… tickled. Patrick is always tickling the shit out of her to tease her.

It’s even worse when the entire Bower’s Gang joins in on torturing her.

Look… this is Patrick. So he still has a mean, sadistic side.

He gets off on fear so he loves to scare her anyway he can.

Whether that is by jumping out at her, or doing something dangerous and reckless like picking her up and dangling her over the cliff edge to the quarry. (she hates heights and doesn’t know how to swim.)

“Uh no! You’re slipping! Better hold on, sweetheart. I know you don’t know how to swim.” He chuckles darkly, smirking down at her as she grips onto his forearm tightly and cries.

Patrick doesn’t hesitate on the low- blows, either. Making comments that he knows will make her cry.

If she threatens to tell their parents on him, Patrick will grab her from behind agressively, making her gasp as he covers her mouth tightly and whisper tauntingly in her ear:

“Now, Now.. Just why would you say that? You know that only gets you in trouble, little one..” He chuckles darkly and tightens his grip in a painful manner.

Patrick With A Little Brother-

…… I think we all know how this ended…. Patrick disliked his little brother, Avery… a lot. You see, Patrick likes being the only male sibling. It’s less competition and less hassle for him. Only Patrick is allowed to make (more like break) the reputation of his family’s name in the small town of Derry, Maine. Bottom line, if Patrick had another little brother, it would result in the same outcome as Avery. Sorry.

Belch With A Little Sister-

Very protective. Does not let her out of his sight for a second.

Hovers over her when they walk in the woods so she doesn’t trip or fall down.

He brings her along when he goes out with the guys sometimes, unless he knows they will be partaking in illegal activities.

Keeps snacks in his car for whenever she rides with him and always makes sure she eats 3 proper meals during the day.

Not only does he have extra snacks but he has a first aid kit, too.

He’s always prepared knowing she’s small, so there’s a good chance she’ll accidentally get hurt hanging around the guys.

And yes, it has happened on more than one occeasion.

He checks on her during school and makes sure no one is messing with her.

After school, Belch makes sure she does her homework but never really helps her with it. Why would he? He doesn’t even do his own assignments.

For the most part, he’s pretty sweet but sometimes the big brother power goes to his head.

He makes her do her chores and his around the house.

If she ever did something wrong, Belch goes right to blackmail.

“I won’t let mom know about that F on your report card… only IF you wash my car everyday the rest of this week.

Henry purposely spills his drink on the hood of the car right after she just got down cleaning it.

“Opps.. looks like you missed a spot. Better get to it, kid.” Henry says mockingly as he ruffles her hair walking by.

Belch always makes sure she’s safe in bed by the end of the night though.

He even kisses the side of her head when the guys aren’t around.

Belch With A Little Brother-

He takes him under his wing.

Loves to talk about cars- the makes and models, horsepower, you name it.

Even though his little brother isn’t old enough to drive yet, that doesn’t stop Belch from giving him driving lessons.

But bet your life he threatens him before taking off. “I swear to fuck though man, if you crash my car, I will end you. Okay, now put it in reverse. Let’s go”

Belch watches sports with him and even plays in the backyard, as well.

Belch acts as if he’s his coach to prepare him for the school’s team.

He also teaches him how to properly lift weights and spots him, too.

Belch told him “the ladies love a man with muscles, so to keep lifting bro.”

Speaking of girls, Belch was the one who gave him ‘the talk’... in very elaborate and explicit detail leaving his brother shocked, disgusted, and intrigued all at once.

Although he does hang out with his brother from time to time, sometimes Belch chooses friends over family and takes off for long periods of time.

Belch for the most part tries to be patient with him, but still gives his brother tough love as a form of preparing him for the real world.

Overall, Belch is a pretty decent big brother.

He means well but sometimes misses the mark.

Henry With A Little Sister-

Their father works long shifts, often resulting in an absence in their home life.

Henry’s dad basically tells him he’s fully in charge of his little sister.

Henry acts pissed off about that like she’s a bother and interrupts his life but deep down, it makes him feel important for once in his life.

Henry is both very strict and protective over her.

He’s also very controlling such as who she’s allowed to talk to or what she’s allowed to wear.

Nothing short or low cut is allowed. She better not even think about talking back, either,

Henry doesn't have much patience for anything and his temper is even worse.

For example- Her short legs means she walks slower than the rest of them.

Henry rolls his eyes and ends up dragging her by her wrist or sometimes just throwing her over his shoulder because he can’t stand waiting for her.

When it comes time for school, Henry makes sure everyone knows she’s a Bowers. If anyone (child or adult) even just so much as looked at her funny, Henry is throwing hands.

Speaking of school, Henry doesn’t help her with any bit of projects or homework. “Don’t fuckin’ ask me! You do it, or don’t, I don't really give a shit.”

When it comes time for dinner, Henry makes simple stuff like peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, mac n’ cheese, or sometimes just fixes a bowl of cereal. But he always makes her clean up the mess / dishes after.

If she talks back, Henry has no problems getting in her face and yelling loudly.

Sometimes when his anger gets the best of him, he’ll smack her across the face.

He stiffens up when he sees the tears form in her eyes. Sometimes he just walks away and doesn’t want to deal with it, and other times he stands there stiffly and gives her an awkward hug.

“Sorry kid. I didn’t mean to hit you. You just pissed me the fuck off.”

Henry would never let anyone ever see this but occasionally he gives her a quick kiss to the side of her cheek when he’s feeling extra guilty. 

Similar to Patrick, Henry loves to get on her nerves.

Tripping her as she walks by.

Embarrassing her in front of the other guys just to see her blush.

Smacking her off the head as he walks by- her angry face makes Henry laugh.

Tickling her to make her admit something or as a form of punishment because he knows she hates that.

Barges in her room without knocking first.

Warns her she's never, ever allowed to have a boyfriend. And if she has a crush on either Vic, Belch, or Patrick...she’s dead meat.

Won’t allow her to drink alcohol or smoke. If she sneaks and does it, Henry teaches her a ‘lesson’.

“Find you wanna drink? Then here, take it. But now you have to drink the entire thing.”

He smirks and watches her get sick from the alcohol thinking that actually taught her a lesson and will deter her from it in the future.

Speaking of drinking-

When their dad comes home drunk, Henry is the one to take all his shit just to protect her because deep down he does care about her even though he calls her a “little fucking shit” daily.

Henry With A Little Brother-

In Henry's warped mind, his brother is a guy too, so he doesn’t need to be coddled like his little sister does.

If Henry has to withstand hits and verbal abuse, then his little brother should too. “Why should he get a pass?” Henry scoffs.

Henry gives him a lot of tough love.

He tries to make him ‘stronger’ by saying some really rotten shit to him. “Builds character, get used to it, kid.”

Henry does teach his brother how to fight though. “Put those stupid fuckin’ books down pussy. Books can’t teach you how to be a fucking man, but throwing punches will.”

Henry gave his little brother his own knife for his birthday.

He told him since he’s a Bowers, he's a target so it will come in handy~

Gives his brother “advice” on girls and sex; telling him which girls around town ‘put out’ the most.

One day when his brother asked Henry about a particular girl Henry responded with: “Ooh yeah, (random girl’s name), the only thing good about her is her pussy. Face is busted.”

Overall, Henry isn’t too bad towards his brother but once again, when his temper is raging, no one is safe from him.

Vic With A Little Sister-

Overly cautious and protective of her. He’s basically like a helicopter parent.

When the guys are swearing around her, he covers her ears and tells the guys to cut it out.

“Guys! Language!”

“I’m only a few years younger than you guys, I’m not a child!” she retorts.

Patrick, being classic creepy Patrick circles around her. “Just give it a few more years babe. Based on how your mom looks...” Patrick licks his lips envisioning Vic’s mother until Vic smacks him in the balls making Patrick hunch over in pain.

Vic likes to keep her in sight so right after school, he goes straight to her locker and makes sure she rides home with them, too.

When they get out of the car to bully some kids, Vic tells her to stay put. He doesn’t want her involved in anything.

When walking through the woods to the quarry, He always has a hand around her upper arm for support when climbing down the embankment.

He watches her like a hawk when swimming, so paranoid something will happen. Again, think helicopter parent

While he’s sweet for the most part, there’s times he just loses his temper.

He’ll explode and begin yelling at her, only inches from her face.

Sometimes when she does something really, really out of line, Vic will shove her into Henry and Patrick.

“Here guys, teach this little bitch a lesson for me. And don’t go easy on her.” Vic says walking off to calm down.

A part of him feels a little guilty when he sees her cry but other times he feels it’s justified.

He isn’t overly affectionate with her around the guys, the most he does is put an arm around her shoulder.

Sometimes sneaks behind her and tasers her sides and laughs when she jumps and collapses to the ground.

But when no one is around, he 100% gives the best hugs.

When she’s going to a sleepover at a girl-friend's house, Vic tells her to be safe and mumbles, “love you.”

Back at home before bed, Vic will tease her for being paranoid as she makes her way around the house, triple checking to make sure all the windows and doors are locked.

“What? Afraid the boogeyman is gonna getcha?” Vic mocks.

If she’s having a nightmare and calls for Vic, he’ll come and sit on the bedroom floor next to her bed until she falls asleep again.

Vic With A Little Brother-

Vic isn’t as protective over his little brother as he is with their little sister; but he still cares for him.

He just feels that his brother is able to hold his own while his sister needs more protection/ guidance.

He let’s his brother tag along with the guys. They all don’t mind. If anything, they refer to his little brother as Vic number 2.

He genuinely listens to his brother’s interests. Okay.. sometimes he zones out when he drones on and on but he always acts interested.

Vic is pretty book smart so he helps his brother with school work, especially in math.

Tries to make his brother more confident when it comes to talking / picking up girls.

Basically acts as his wing man.

The guys try to give his brother tips on how to pick up girls...Vic usually tells him to ignore everything they say because all that's gonna earn him is a slap in the face.

Tells him not to listen to Henry or Patrick for girl advice.. EVER.

He does teach his brother how to fight though.

Just because Vic is one of the sweeter ones in the gang; that doesn’t change the fact that he’s in a gang to begin with…

When his brother told him he was being picked on, Vic taught him how to fight, but also got involved himself.

Nothing like sending an intimidating message to a few assholes.

When Vic and his brother fight with each other, he doesn’t hold back just because that’s his little brother.

Overall, they get along for the most part and Vic is a pretty decent older brother to his siblings.

[sxfterhearts]

wounded

24. [7:25 pm]

➳ pairing: yugyeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: slow burn, fluff, slight bad boy!yugyeom, triggers; mentions of violence, injuries, physical abuse

➳ word count: 2,504 words

➳ summary: 24. “Just because,”

➳ author's note: this will probably turn into a two-shot, inspired by new era yugs. all creds for the gif below to @jinyoungot7​, thank you so much 💖 i’ve been sitting on this idea for a bit too long + rewrote it 3 times (bc my dumb self forgot to hit save) so i really struggled to form the right words. i hope you’ll forgive me for this! any form of feedback will be very much appreciated 💕 (also: imo = aunty)

wounded // scarred // healed

A rush of stiflingly hot summer air pummeled through the double doors of your family’s restaurant, disrupting the once cool atmosphere created by the air-cons. Being reminded of this season’s unforgiving behaviours urged you to lift the straw of your cool drink to your lips.

The sip of iced Americano, however, got stuck in your throat when you laid eyes upon the restaurant’s newest patron.

Yugyeom. Kim Yugyeom, with his untucked shirt and loosened tie, took confident strides across the dining area in the direction of the kitchen window where chefs would place finished dishes, ready to be served. Your brain short-circuited for several moments as you did nothing but watch him from your position behind the cashier. His actions were that of a regular’s as he arrived at the window and stuck his head through the opening in the wall, his hand coming up in a small wave to catch the chefs’ attention.

It was then that you registered, quite belatedly, the bruises and splotches of crimson littered across the back of his raised hand, tarnishing the fair skin.

You distinctly remembered that you saw plasters wrapped around his fingers earlier today when you sat beside him in class. His current wounds made the older ones seem like insignificant paper cuts. It wasn’t unusual for Yugyeom to turn up covered in fresh cuts and purple bruises, though. In fact, you had grown so accustomed to this that you started stocking up on assorted Rilakkuma plasters. Since the start of the semester when you were assigned the furthest desk from the whiteboard, you learned how to disinfect open wounds with saline solution and cover it properly with pastel-coloured dressings, all courtesy of Kim Yugyeom.

“Imo, can I please order takeaway? One bibim naengmyeon and one mul naengmyeon, double serving of pickled radishes, two eggs and extra-”

“Yugyeom-ah!” Your mother’s unmistakeable voice pierced through as her head peeked out of the little window, coming face to face with your desk partner. She addressed him with such a warm and motherly tone, which left you surprised and confused. “Oh, oh dear… It’s best if you take a seat, you can have your dinner here. I’ll pack Mark’s in a takeaway container, don’t you worry.”

“But Imo, I need to get back, Mark-”

“No buts, Yugyeom. I already memorised your orders. Sit down, your food will be ready in a second.”

“Imo, I can’t-” Yugyeom protested weakly, waving his hands in refusal, but you knew it was all for nought. Attempting to deny your mother’s orders were an impossible feat.

A short silence ensued. You guessed this was caused by your mother’s signature death stare. Having been on the receiving end countless times during your lifetime, you were well aware that it could make anyone’s skin rise with goose bumps or a chill to run down their spines.

“Okay, Imo…” Came Yugyeom’s resigned voice as his lanky legs dragged himself over to the vacant seat closest to the kitchen.

You took this as your cue to question your mother in detail about how she became so familiar with your class’ bad boy. Unfortunately, you were met with a curt reminder of the first-aid kit in the cupboard under the counter as she busied herself with blanching the buckwheat noodles. When she was in her element, there was no way to deviate her attention from the task at hand.

Rummaging through the cupboard, you fished out the white box with a red cross stuck on the top of the lid. Taking a few moments to steel your quickening heart rate, you were struck by the realisation that this would be the first time seeing Yugyeom outside of school in the entire five years you spent as classmates. He was a quiet boy, never uttering a single word in school, even when the teachers were asking him questions, landing him a semi-permanent spot in detention. Most days, he would plug one earphone into his ear and rest his head on folded arms, taking frequent naps as the class learned about organic compounds or Punnett squares. He was also handed multiple demerits for breaking the school rules, which ranged from getting into fist fights with seniors who bullied students for their lunch money, or wearing one too many piercings (especially the shiny ones), to refusing to get a haircut when his fringe began to grow past his eyebrows, obscuring his eyes.

The most intimidating aspect about sitting next to Kim Yugyeom, however, was that nearly every week you were forced to come face to face with angry gashes and wounds that he seemingly gained overnight. He always turned a blind eye when you succumbed to your curiosity and inspected his injuries from your seat, mere inches away. Wordlessly, you would clean the damaged skin with practiced hands, then patch it up with a plaster. Rilakkuma, you decided, suited him best. The plasters matched his yellow Rilakkuma earphones. You even caught him occasionally staring at the plasters when you stayed in class during lunch, the only period in which he remained awake.

“Y/N,” Yugyeom called as you drew the seat next to him. He stared at the table, refusing to meet your eyes.

Your ears perked up the moment your name left his lips; you were not used to this. It was a rare occurrence for the two of you to speak. Usually you went about your everyday tasks silently, with little words being exchanged. It was a silence that grew comfortable over the semester, and you found yourself appreciating the peace it brought during stressful times.

Conversations between the two of you had only started up recently. This was largely attributed to your father, who worked front of the house, being ridiculed by your classmate’s parents when they visited the restaurant. They complained about your father’s complete lack of competence when they had to wait forty-five minutes for their food to arrive, only to receive the wrong dishes in the end. Furious, they shoved the plate of food off the table and stormed out of the restaurant, not even bothering to settle the bill. Your father was left to clean up the scraps in front of all the other customers, severely damaging the restaurant’s reputation.

The classmate, a snobby, pampered girl, confronted you in school the next day by rudely pushing your books and stationery onto the floor, just like her parents did. You held back angry, frustrated tears as she ridiculed you and your family in front of all your other classmates, tearing you down to shreds. Yugyeom, rousing from his nap, caught the girl’s wrist before she had the chance to slap you across the face with a notebook.

Everyone grew quiet then. The boy had never done anything to gain attention, always preferring to remain behind the shadows in perfect silence. “Keep it down, you’re ruining my sleep.” Yugyeom hissed threateningly. She cowered in fear and backed off, never to provoke you again.

“Look up, Yugyeom.” You instructed, returning to the task at hand. With a concerned gaze, you conducted a thorough examination of his injuries. The cuts on his hands and the bruises on his knuckles were fairly standard – a quick clean and plaster should do the trick. You got to work, pulling out the alcohol-free cleansing wipes and dabbing over the torn skin with gentle fingers. The boy flinched slightly upon the first contact but behaved rather well as you continued to tend to his hands. Your gaze flitted over the two spherical scars on the underside of his left forearm as he reached forward, closing the distance between the two of you. They were cigarette burns, you figured. You could feel Yugyeom’s fingers brushing against your temples as he pushed strands of your short hair back to rest behind your ears, the tips of which glowered pink at his actions.

“What happened this time?” You asked, somewhat rhetorically. You knew full well that Yugyeom would never divulge the events that led up to his injuries, no matter how persistent you were.

He hummed in response, as though that were an appropriate answer, and scrunched up his face slightly to express his reluctance in answering your question.

The wound smack bang in the middle of his nose presented itself as a bit more of a challenge. While Yugyeom was no stranger to facial injuries, often sporting shallow cuts close to his brow or near his chin, this was much deeper; much larger. It drew unwanted attention and tarnished his otherwise handsome features.

A dull thud sounded as a bowl of cold noodles landed on the table. Your mother stood over the two of you, shaking her head as she handed you a warm towel. You accepted it, still utterly clueless about how your mother was so well acquainted with Yugyeom and his injuries. “Y/N-ah, use this to clean the wound. If it’s still bleeding a lot, apply some pressure to it.” She then turned to the boy, tutting in disapproval. “Yugyeom, I’ve always respected your privacy when you show up in my restaurant covered in cuts and bruises, but this is where I draw the line. Your injuries are getting more serious. You and I are going to have a serious talk once you finish your dinner, young man. It’s been two years and I can’t watch from the sidelines any longer, are we clear?”

You watched as Yugyeom nearly heaved out a sigh, but decided against it in the last minute. “Yes, Imo. Thank you, Imo.”

Your mother, with her hands perched atop her waist, nodded gravely before strutting over to the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone once more. A million questions swarmed in your head as Yugyeom took the towel from your hands, pressing it onto his wound as he began to devour the bowl of cold noodles. This has been going on for two years? You wondered to yourself. Two long years, and yet I’ve never even ran into him in the restaurant. There’s no way, he must’ve been here when I worked over the summer. Maybe he was just sitting in a corner, eating in silence… As usual.

“You’ve been coming her for two years?” You asked before you could stop yourself, your curiosity getting the better of you. “But why?” Why didn’t you tell me? You thought silently, the rest of the sentence unable to leave your mouth.

Yugyeom shrugged as he picked out two halved egg yolks from the boiled eggs with his chopsticks. “Just because,”

Because you pitied me? Because you were ashamed of me? Because you couldn’t face me in school without thinking about that incident caused by the girl’s parents?

“It’s not like that.” The boy said flatly, his eyes meeting yours with a resolute gaze when he noticed you withdrawing, getting lost in your thoughts. “This is the only place that sells naengmyeon all year.”

“What?” You muttered in disbelief.

“I have naengmyeon every Friday, even in winter. The food is good and I only live five minutes away.”

You nodded at his explanation. Perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

“I was also trying to hide most of my injuries from you.” He admitted in a low voice, barely audible above the white noise of the restaurant. Yugyeom took another mouthful of noodles into his mouth, chewing appreciatively as the refreshing flavours soothed his senses. “Fridays…” He paused, eyes wandering vacantly around the vicinity of the restaurant. “Fridays are gambling days for my uncle. He’ll gamble, lose, drink and come home for dinner. You know my older brother, Mark?”

“Yeah, I know Mark.” It was hard not to know about Mark. Before he graduated four years ago, rumours about him spread like wildfire throughout the entire school. The one rumour you distinctly remembered as a first-year student was that he maintained good grades by doing, for a lack of better word, favours, for his female teachers.

“Mark would rush me out of the house before our uncle got home. He acted as my uncle’s babysitter by cooking him dinner, and then as his punching bag when he had to take out his frustration. I was home once when it happened, some time last year. After that I made Mark agree for us to take turns.”

Your head started to spin as your brain worked to process this new information. “Wait so, the cuts, the bruises, the burns, all of that…?”

Yugyeom nodded, still staring beyond the double doors. The sun was beginning to set. In the back of his mind, he registered that his uncle would be home soon. “Honestly, Mark had it worse, especially in the first few months after.”

He meant after his parents passed away two years ago. A car accident. They were coming home from their anniversary dinner. It was raining. There was a truck going around the corner at insane speeds, towards their car. It swerved. Their car plummeted off a cliff. They died instantly, the aunties gossiped as they filtered in and out of the restaurant. Poor kids, they would remark, casting pitied looks at the brothers.

“Your mother, she’s really something else.” He said with a small smile while picking up a few pieces of cucumber and radish. “The first time I came in, the restaurant was about to close. She took one look at me and forced me to press a piece of frozen beef on my bruise. She talked to me the entire time she was dressing my wound, I swear my ears nearly fell off.”

That sounded exactly like your mother. She loved to nag, but it always came from a place of genuine concern. “Imagine being her daughter.” You joked, grateful for the slight comedic relief from the heavy nature of the words you shared. It was one of the few proper conversations you had with your desk partner.

“Sometimes I have to remind myself that she isn’t my mother.” Yugyeom said, his tone so broken and devastated that you felt your heart ache within your chest.

You placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, trying your best to provide him with some form, any form of comfort. “I’m sure she cares for you like her own son. Especially since she’s been making you dinner every Friday for the past two years.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“She even nurses your injuries.”

“But you do that too.” He pointed out without missing a beat, a teasing glint in his eyes as he finally turned to look at you.

“I…”

“Nevermind, forget I said anything.” Yugyeom replied with a knowing grin, returning back to his dinner.

I care about you too, a lot. You confessed silently, resting your heavy head on your palms as you watched him eat. The golden shine of the sun casted upon his pointed features. Despite the old scars and the new wounds, he glowed.

A part of you realised that after so many months, you had finally broken-down Kim Yugyeom’s iron walls. School would be very different from now on.

[pjdredful]

The AV Club

Chapter 7

 "So what are you going to do about that Tony guy?" I have no idea. I don't like the idea of taking him up on his offer to help me. It will be hard to trust him when he's been lying his pants off since day one. I shrug and rest my head against the warm glass of the window. I can tell that Mo is trying to keep my mind off the fact that we're almost to my house so I give the thought my full attention.

 "He says he can help me but how do I know he's not just trying to use me. Or that he even knows what he's talking about?" I shake my head more firmly. No. I don't want his help at all. "I think we should stick with what we know and my mom's journal. We're got a few years of research and the internet what more do we really need?"

 The underworld can't be that big and bad can it? I mean we can hold our own when we need to and maybe I'll learn how to control my…ability or whatever by myself. My gaze shifts to Lirae in the seat next to me who looks thoughtful before nodding. "Well I don't think we should trust the guy. What do we really know about him? Is he even a therapist for real or is that just a cover to get close to you?"  

Huh. Well now I feel really weirded out. It never even crossed my mind that he wasn't a real therapist. Not that I had plans to continue being his patient now and I never really told him anything in the first place but I still feel all kinds of violated. "I don't know. If he's not, he's really working the long game pretty hard. He's not the only therapist in the office and he sees other people."

 Mo pipes up from the driver's seat as we roll to a stop at a light a few blocks from my street. "Well if he's the real deal he'll have a digital footprint somewhere. I can spend some time digging around tonight." I nod my agreement at that. It's a good idea. Even if I never speak to him again it's good to know who's out there that knows about me and this stuff. "Not much else we can do other than follow him around for a few days but that'd be a little hard considering he knows what you look like and we all have school."

 The car lurches forward as the light turns green and I frown. Man. I was totally thinking about Nancy Drew'ing it and following him around. "I might actually have that covered." I give Lirae a raised brow and she shrugs lightly. "What? I know a guy who could do it for cheap." I roll my eyes and snort because Lirae always knows a person who can do something shady. Wait. That includes me too. Hm. Well that will teach me to throw stones from my crystal manse.  My stomach sinks a little when I see my dad's truck in the driveway. Mo parks at the curb, his engine idling roughly and loudly.

 "Dude you gotta get that shit fixed its embarrassing." Mo just flips Lirae off as she slides out of the car after me. The car could be held together with duct tape and prayers and only roll downhill but Mo would still love it. It's not actually that far off from my description and I make a mental note to ask Jo-lynn for the name of our mechanic. Just in case Mo needs it. I take the steps up to the porch heavily and sigh. I warm hand slips in to mine and I stop at the doormat. "Hey, it's gonna be okay Evie. You know that right?"

 I turn my back on the house, preferring not to look at it for the moment. Lirae tugs my hand lightly and moves to stand in front of me. Well. This is a much better view anyway. "Yeah I know. I'm still kind of butthurt but you're right, they love me." I tug Lirae closer and touch my forehead to hers. "Thanks for walking me to the door but you know nothing would have happened to me from the car to here, right?" Lirae gives me a slightly guilty look when I call her out on it. I've let it go for the past few days but ever since my beacon status became active and especially after that thing with the weird fox guy this morning I haven't been alone except to pee. And even then one of the boys or Lirae was standing just outside the door waiting for me. That could get old fast.

 Lirae leans in and kisses me, trapping my lip between her teeth playfully for a second. "Maybe I just wanted to scandalize your dad a little bit." Oh. Well. If that's the case then probably it's not so bad then. I chuckle and cup her face for another kiss. I'm thoroughly enjoying the softness of her full lips and the scent of her shampoo as her soft long curls blow around us in the wind. I'm enjoying it a little too much for Mo's liking because he honks the horn impatiently. Oops. Kinda forgot he was her ride home.

 We both turn to give him irritated looks but I take a step back with a sigh. "Guess we'll have to talk about that some more later."

 "We are definitely talking about that later. So tomorrow I'm gonna go see my guy about Tony. You should come with me." Probably I'd go anywhere she asked me to but I just nod and steal one last kiss. Lirae pulls away gives my hand one last squeeze before lightly bouncing down the stairs and jogging to the car. I watch them pull away before turning back to the house. I might as well get it over with. A few steps in the door I can hear hushed voices go silent and my step mom pokes her head out of the kitchen.

 "I thought I heard the door." She makes her way out of the kitchen toward me. Jo-lynn stops just short of hugging me and arranges a lock of my hair awkwardly as if it's the only gesture she thinks will be safe. "I'm glad you're back, are you hungry? I wasn't sure if you'd be back tonight but I made pesto tortellini and chicken…just in case." That's my favorite dish and she made it special for me. I feel like an utter pill for not realizing, or not wanting to realize how much she really cares about me before. I don't know I'm hugging her until Jo-lynn gives a surprised but pleased exclamation. "Oh, honey, if I had known you liked it that much I would have made it for you special before."

 The joke doesn't keep her from hugging me back, or stop her from sniffling just a little but it does make me clear my throat and step back a little. "I'm starving." My stomach gives a loud growl as proof and she chuckles, poking my belly with a finger.

 "You could use with some feeding. You're gone two days and you look like a stick. Come sit down and eat, your dad hasn't had dinner yet either." She leads me in to the kitchen where my dad is sitting at the table looking tired and busted as he's reaching over for the garlic bread. "Frank! You can't wait five minutes? Evie, honey go wash your hands. Honestly Frank I can't leave you alone for a second."

 My dad's shoulders sink and he leans back in his chair with a grunt. "I was just making sure it was warm." That is the worst excuse ever. I chuckle as I drop my bag on the floor and wash my hands in the kitchen sink. At least he doesn't sound angry, just playfully annoyed. "You don't hurry kiddo I'm eating your serving too." Well. I can't let that happen. It's pesto tortellini.

 "Dunno if you're fast enough old man." I steal his fork right out of his hand as I sit down at the table across from my stepmom at my dad's right side. He half chuckles at that and takes his fork back with a jerk. It’s familiar. Safe. And I am so freaking relieved about it. I really didn’t want to get into any deep discussions and I for sure don’t want to fight with them. Either of them. Maybe taking the weekend to stay at the clubhouse was the best thing I could have done. For all of us.

 "You hear the mouth on this kid?" Jo-lynn doesn't even bother to hide her happy grin as she watches us playing at the table.

 "Hm. You'd think she was a Rossi or something." We both give her identical mock offended stares before dissolving in to laughter. Jo-lynn piles a shallow pasta bowl high and my stomach growls again. Oh God. It smells so good. My dad holds out his hand expectantly when she's done placing a side of bread artfully on the plate but she passes it across to me. "What? You could use with skipping a meal everyone once in a while, if Evie doesn't eat, her stomach will keep us up all night."

 "Hey!" There's another round of chuckles but we settle down and dig in. I take a slow bite, savoring it before I just suck it all in to my face like a Hoover vacuum. Oh. God. It's so good. My eyes cross and I hum in appreciation the same time my dad does. Probably Jo-lynn could die of happiness right now the way she's looking at us. I'll say this for Jo, she is an amazing cook, and not so bad of a mom either.

 About halfway through my ENORMUS plate of tortellini my dad clears his throat and starts shifting in his seat. Uh oh. I knew it couldn't be so easy as joking fun times like we'd all just forget about the argument. I take a deep breath and lean back in my seat a little. Maybe if I keep chewing I won't have to do any talking. I think he might be just as uncomfortable as I am because my dad makes a frustrated grunting sound and scratches at his jaw. Jo-lynn watches him subtly for a second before smiling a bit at me.

 "Evie, your dad wants to tell you something. Go on Frank." The last is a little more direct and I stop my chewing and look at my dad. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here right now. I know the feeling.

 "It's just that um, I'm glad you're back kid. House wasn't the same without you."

 I put my fork down slowly and straighten my back. "You mean because you didn't get woken up by my nightmares or the police?" I don't say it with an attitude because I know that my life and my particular circumstances are no peach to deal with. It might hurt to hear him say it but I can't blame him for feeling that way. Even I feel that way about myself sometimes. My dad rests his forearms on the table and looks at me fully for the first time in I don't know how long.

 "I'm sorry I said those things, Peanut. I was just really mad because…well because I'm scared that I will lose you like I lost your mom." He hasn't called me Peanut since he put mom away. I look at my silverware, playing with my setting as I nod once.

 "That's a valid fear I guess." I hate to admit it but I could end up like my mom. It's kind of terrifying to think about so I try not to dwell on it but it keeps popping up in the back of my mind. If I had a Guardian it would be okay but the only one available is Tony and well. That's just not an option right now.

 "No damn it, no it is not. You're not your mom, Evie. You might look like her and you might have her great big heart but you've got my stubborn streak. You're stronger than she was, and you're stronger than I am now. We can do this, we can get you all the help you want and need. It doesn't…" He trails off and I look up at him struggling to articulate something difficult. "I don't have to make the same mistakes I did with your mother."

 I think my heart breaks a little hearing him admit that. Jo-lynn rests a hand on his arm reassuringly, letting him know she's here for him. Just like she always has been. Like she's always been here for both of us. "I think that you did the best you could then, Dad. And I think you're doing a pretty dang good job with what ya got going on right now. But..." He quirks his mouth in to a half grin and nods his head.

 "But probably I could still try harder." I nod at that accepting his implied apology and acknowledging that he could be more present in my life. I know he loves me, and I've never doubted that but he drifted after mom. I missed him and he's been here the entire time.  The sound of Jo-lynn blowing her nose and sniffling through tears makes us both shift uncomfortably. Look. We're a passionate people but we're not big on deep expressions of love here. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to have your mom’s stuff Evie. I just…I wasn’t ready for you to have it.”

 I lower my head a little and shrug at that. I want to be angry. I want to be really angry. I just don’t have it in me right now. “That doesn’t make it okay for me, Dad. There are things I need to know. That I haven’t been able to understand and no one can explain it to me better than mom could. Keeping things a secret from me isn’t helping me. Or any of us.” I know I have to get back to reading her journal. Especially since I pitched a fit about it and all. It’s just that maybe like my dad, I’m just not ready to read it yet. “Maybe probably I could have tried not to throw a tantrum about it though.” He gives me a slow grin that I return knowing that while we’re not one hundred percent okay right this second, we’re gonna be.

 "You two. Peas in a pod. Eat your dinner it's getting cold." She blows her nose again and I stab a tortellini ruthlessly and shove it in my mouth. Alright. That wasn't so bad. A little heartbreaking but not terrible. And my dad called me Peanut and wants to be there for me. There's just one problem. I'm eventually going to have to get around to telling him and Jo-lynn what's really happening. I chew meditatively for a few minutes before Jo-lynn composes herself enough to derail my thought train entirely. "Honey now that you've you know, come out, there are going to have to be some new rules about girls staying over."

 The tortellini gets stuck in my throat when I suck in a surprised breath and I have to cough a few times to clear it. Uh. Why are we talking about this? What's happening right now? I look at my dad in a panic as he continues to shovel food in to his mouth as if Jo-lynn didn't just refer to the idea of me getting down with a girl during a sleepover. He stops to slap a big beefy hand on my back a few times to unstick the tortellini in my throat then goes back to eating. I continue to stare at him until he looks at me.

 "Well don't look at me. You're never coming home knocked up, that's good enough for me."

 "Frank!" Oh God. Oh. My. God. I can’t handle this. Where is that earth rending portal to another universe when you need it? I tap the ground tentatively hopeful at my feet with the toe of my shoe. Nope. Still solid. Damn I'm stuck here. "This is serious, don't you care about your daughter's dating habits?" Oh well. I don't date so that's not really an issue is it? Although now maybe that will be changing since I have this unnamed…thing…with Lirae.

 My dad sighs and grunts before turning to look at me, fork in one hand, beer in the other. "Look kid, my advice to you is pretty much the same. No means no, and if someone doesn't like it ya kick 'em right in the crotchular area. Or you know maybe…" He makes a vague boob gesture then frowns as the idea fully hits him. "You know maybe we just don't do the whole dating thing at all until you're 35."

 My stepmom sighs and swats at his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Tsk. Frank. She's doesn't have to be a spinster because she's gay."

 "OKAY!" I clear my throat and push my plate away a little trying to interrupt the flow of this particular conversation. "How about we just say I don't do anything that you wouldn't allow me to do with a boy and leave it at that? Please?" Thank God none of my friends are here to see this. Orson would find my discomfort entirely too entertaining. My dad just shrugs, I think he's just relieved he's not likely to be a grandfather any time soon. Jo-lynn considers then gives me a slight nod.

 "You know you can talk to us about anything. Your father and I are not like our parents were. We're a little more hip with the times. You can tell us about girls…"

 "No! No, thank you. Um. That's great and I'm glad but I'm good. We don't need to do that. Like. Ever. Please." Please God let's not do that. My dad reaches over and pats Jo-lynn's arm lightly as if to say there there, we've done enough needling for one night.

 "Pass the bread please." And just like that we move on to something much more important. Food. Guess I didn't need that inter-dimensional rift to hell after all.