"Brave is the only choice I ever had"

notbravebychoice·:

Well, now he’s mad. Which was to be expected. But he’s also undressing, which was….not what she was expecting at all. And actually, the calmness in his reaction is unsettling. She was expecting him to yell, or at least say something to her. Instead, he’s standing half-naked in her living room, quetly glaring at her.

“No witty comeback? That’s a good boy.”

Part of her knows she needs to be careful if she doesn’t want things to turn ugly. But, again, she did warn him. And he did break into her house (again) with every intention to scare her witless (again).

“Bathroom’s that way, in case you want to clean up. We’ll find you something to wear while those dry off.”

Should she count this as a victory? Probably. But she doesn’t want to jinx it. So, she’ll wait until he’s back.

Consider the turning of his face from that sallow yellow to bright red his response. It’s like he’s back in high school with the back of his underwear pulled up over his head in an atomic wedgie, courtesy of Bo Briggs. For a moment, he swears his dick shrinks in the shame that he’s trying to hide as he trudges towards the bathroom, hands over his crotch like a freshman.

In her bathroom, he soaks up the remainder of the tea on his skin with a towel before hastily embarking for the bedroom. After a few minutes pass, he’s emerging once more, not knowing if he was better off naked.

Becky’s trousers are too short for him, you see. At least they’re not too small, given that she has more width to her hips and thighs than he does – but approximately one mile of leg and ankle are showing above his shoes. Likewise on sleeves, they reach to the middle of his forearms. The length of the shirt is wanting as well, given that the last few inches of his midsection are showing.

Looking down at himself and then back to her, the glare is even stronger now. Seething is the word for it.

“I will have my revenge for this. Mark my words.”

In the time it takes him to come back, Becky considers just for how long she should let him suffer. After all, he has caused her no bodily harm as of yet, and he’s already embarassed as it is. At the very least, he deserves a warm drink. For a split second, she thinks about serving him tea, then realizes that giving him weapons to get revenge with is probably not the smartest idea. Coffee, perhaps. He would never waste coffee like that.

It takes her an inhuman ammount of effort not to laugh when he comes out of her room, wearing some of her clothes. She almost wants to ask how he knew where to find them, but for the sake of her own mental health, decides against it.

“Looking good, Jon.”

She points at the cup of coffee waiting for him, still smiling.

“But you already warned me revenge is coming. Now I’ll be prepared.”

Well. She did warn him.

Sitting there looking like a wet cat with his extinguished cigarette in his mouth, Jonathan is stunned for a moment as he processes the fact that he is soaked in scalding hot fluid. Then, after that fraction of a second, he’s shot up out of his seat and started tearing off his soaked clothes. Hitting the floor with sad plops, his wet shirt and trousers reflect his demeanor – which is to say scalding.

But, there he is in his underpants, glaring at a girl half his height. She’s the one with this shit-eating grin now, isn’t she. And he can’t do much about it because whatever intimidating air he might adopt would instantly be neutralized by the fact he’s in his briefs.

Completely disarmed. How to be terrifying after such an affront? He’s speechless.

Well, now he’s mad. Which was to be expected. But he’s also undressing, which was....not what she was expecting at all. And actually, the calmness in his reaction is unsettling. She was expecting him to yell, or at least say something to her. Instead, he’s standing half-naked in her living room, quetly glaring at her.

“No witty comeback? That’s a good boy.”

Part of her knows she needs to be careful if she doesn’t want things to turn ugly. But, again, she did warn him. And he did break into her house (again) with every intention to scare her witless (again).

“Bathroom’s that way, in case you want to clean up. We’ll find you something to wear while those dry off.”

Well, she gave him a chance.

Now, to consider her options.

She could hit him with the cane, but he’ll probably be expecting that. At this point, it’s basically her signature move. She could also reach out, take the cigarette off his hands and force him to swallow it, but she doubts that will have the desired effect. She wants to actually scare him, not make him enjoy it, too.

So she settles for option three, and hopes her dyspraxia doesn’t ruin the moment.

Before she gives her body time to betray her, her hand darts across the table, fingers hooking around the handle of a mug of considerable size, which she herself filled with tea earlier. Next thing she knows, the contents of said mug have been thrown in Jonathan’s face, effecively putting out the offending cigarette.

Jonathan, standing two heads taller than his lab partner and easily half her weight, flinches when she says the word spooks. It’s one of the names he’s been called by the other kids since he started school. One of many – spook, scarecrow, beanpole, anything to point out his grotesquely slight frame. But he knows she doesn’t mean it. He can’t recall this specific girl ever throwing rocks at him or tearing pages out of his books. Girls are usually the ones that are the kindest to him. Something about masculinity prompts the other boys around him to prove their worth by beating him down and taking away his.

“Oh, uh. My great-grandmother gets home from bible study. She, uh. Wouldn’t like me having a girl over.” The library being closed for fumigation really doesn’t leave him a choice, though. Moths eating the paper. “She’s, uh. Strict.”

Nobody at school knows what he goes through at home. But they’ve certainly noticed the bruises and the cuts. Volunteer candy-stripers at the hospital would know of his worse injuries – the times he’d been burned and broken beyond what can be handled covertly with a first aid kit. Those people – usually girls at his high school – left him alone. But they also didn’t say or do anything to stop the bullying beyond the situation at home.

And, here it is. The Old Keeny Farm. The cornfield and the silo face the old country road and make it smell like chlorophyll and sweet kernels. The dirt road that spouts off the main road opens up into a sort of cul-de-sac full of old, broken down farm equipment. A doghouse is empty at the foot of the old Victorian house that overlooks the field. Further beyond, the weeds have grown waist-high and a trail through the grass leads off into the woods beyond, where the canopy keeps the path in the darkness – a portal to the chapel that Jonathan dreads.

The door to the old Victorian opens with a long creak, and Jonathan opens it slowly because of his anxiety at breaking the rules. The moment Becky Albright sets foot in this house is the moment he’s sealed his fate. Beyond the front door is the living room, set up with antique furniture that is clean, but falling apart. The floors creak as they enter. The door, closing behind them, seems louder than before as the latch sinks into place.

Jonathan puts his book bag down on the floor beside the door.

“Sorry. There’s no food in the fridge. Do you, uh, want a sweet tea?” Southern hospitality. Jonathan feels terrible he can’t offer more. 

Something about Jon’s great-grandmother doesn’t sound right. Or maybe it’s the way his voice changes when he mentions her, how his body language shifts completely... Becky definitely doesn’t like it. But she’s not going to ask about it, or at least not today. Today, they clearly need to focus on the project.

The house itself is intimidating in its enormity. Even without the rumors, Becky would understand why people want to stay away from it. The way it stands in the middle of the fields, an imposing reminder of better, wealthier times, both for the family and the town itself, commands respect, if not fear. And Becky wishes she had more time to spend there, exploring every corner of it.

Stepping in, she feels an odd sense of doom overcome her, and it takes her a moment to steady herself. She’s going to be in here, alone with a boy, all afternoon. No matter the reason, the prospect itself is a bit scary.  And that’s all there is to it, she tells herself as she follows Jonathan into the living room. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not hungry.” She turns her head to really take in the house, not wanting to miss any details, and she almost doesn’t register the last of his sentence. “Um...sure. You need help with that?”

It is then that she notices the book under his arm, and she can’t help but smile.

“Is that ‘Ulysses’? How far in are you? I’ve never read it myself, but I really want to. Dad says it can wait until college, though. He’d love to know you’re reading it!”

It is, indeed, one of her father’s many favorite books. When Becky tells him about it, she’s certain Jonathan will become one of his favorite people.  “Are you taking lit? He’s the one teaching!”

❝ Touch them and I'll kill you. ❞

❝ Come back again and you won't be able to even come here ever.❞

❝ If you don't have what I asked for before the deadline, you can kiss your loved one/s goodbye. ❞

❝ If you don't step down from your position, I'm taking drastic measures to make it happen. ❞

❝ Shut up and answer what I request. ❞

❝ Do as I say or suffer the consequences. ❞

❝ Shut up, and hand it to me, now. ❞

❝ You were too reckless. You reap what you sow. ❞

❝ Don't touch me ever again. ❞

❝ Don't move or they die. ❞

❝ I just need it and I'll be off. ❞

❝ This'll hurt less if you don't move. ❞

❝ Shut up or I'll make you shut up. ❞

❝ I mean you acres of harm. Untold quantities of harm. I will visit a whole continent of harm upon you before we are through. ❞

❝ If you run from me, I will pursue. ❞

❝ I guarantee you I'm not going to forget your voice. We're going to run into each other down the road sometime, and when we do, I'm going to pop you apart one rivet at a time. Got it?❞

❝ How about this? Shut your mouth or I’ll kick your teeth down your throat and I’ll shut it for you. ❞

❝ One night I'm going to come to you inside of your house or wherever you’re sleeping and I’m going to cut your throat. ❞

❝ Don’t fuck with me buddy or I’ll kick your ass so hard you’ll have to unbutton your collar to shit! ❞

❝ I’m going to give you three seconds – exactly three fucking seconds – to wipe that stupid-looking grin off your face or I will gouge out your eyeballs.❞

❝ You and that other dummy better start getting more personally involved with your work or I’m gonna stab you through the heart with a fucking pencil. ❞

❝ Say ‘What?’ again. I dare you. I double dare you. ❞

❝ Don’t push it or I’ll push you off the ledge, don't test me.❞

❝ I'll see to it that you'll be severely executed. ❞

❝ Do you really not know anything? ❞

❝ Don't lie to me! ❞

❝ I want to crush you... ❞

❝ Move, and I'll shoot.❞

❝ Don't mess with me! ❞

❝ How dare you?! ❞

Jonathan’s favorite subjects in school are chemistry and English. He signed up for AP Chem and English at the start of the year, but since the classes at Seville High School are small and resources are low, he only placed in the latter. It wasn’t much of a disappointment for him, though, because reading is his one true passion. Holding To Kill A Mockingbird and his chem textbook, walking home down the long dirt road, he can’t politely read while he walks, as usual, because he’s not alone, as usual.

He doesn’t know how Granny will take it. Luckily, she attends a bible study group every Wednesday from 3:00 in the afternoon to 6:00 in the evening. So she’ll have been freshly gone in her 1940s Ford pickup, cane in hand and bible in tow.

Walking beside Jonathan is his lab partner, Rebecca Albright – the pretty, awkward redhead that sits on the other end of the classroom. They got paired when no one else would pick either of them as a partner for the project.

“So, uh…” His accent is thick – the bumpkin type that drawls too much. “I was thinkin’ we could do somethin’ like… the Pavlovian experiments? There’re tons’a rats in th’barn we could catch. Ring a bell and… give ‘em little pieces’a cheese. Or… somethin’. But we gotta be done by 5:30 tonight.”

He can’t look her in the face. She’s a girl.

“5:30. No later. Please n’thank you.”

@notbravebychoice  wants a high school au

People never walk this way. It’s too far away from anything interesting, and the rumored consequences of being caught near the property with no valid reason to be there are enough to keep curious kids away. Personally, she has always wanted to see it up close. And now she has a reason to. Another interesting thing about her day is her lab partner. Stories about Jonathan Crane, his family, and the house he lives in, are a dime a dozen in this town; everyone always seems to have something to say about him.And while she doesn’t like the things people say (or rather, how they say them), she can’t help but find him a little bit fascinating because of them,

Getting permission to work at her partner’s house is not a problem. Her father is a teacher at the same highschool where they study, and he’s always encouraging Becky to make new friends, and do her best in school. It’s only when he hears exactly where she’s going that he shows some hesitation, but it’s gone almost as soon as it comes. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. And you’ll be safe.”