up and down down

troubled sea so deep, troubled none no sleep Phoebe, 19

[phoebepruitts-blog]

rdahar:

Rafael didn’t mean anything bad by arranging a meeting with his parents right before their first date. For Raf, this was normal. If his mother didn’t like the girl he was dating, there was no use in taking things any further. He wasn’t going to tell Phoebe that, though. There was no use in stressing her out, and he knew that mama would love her. “Uh, kinda,” Rafael shrugged, casual. He’d told his parents about Phoebe. A lot. Samuel had heard a lot of it, too. Sam thought it was annoying. Mama loved it. At her next statement, Rafael frowned slightly. “Whoa, why do you think that? I think you’re great. You’re a good person. But we don’t have to,” he clarified, making it very clear that if Phoebe was uncomfortable, the plan was out the window, no matter how much it mattered to him. She could always meet the parents later, when they’d been dating for longer than a few weeks. “We don’t ever have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay? I’m serious.”

“-No. No, it’s fine. I’m not, uh, I’m not uncomfortable.” Phoebe stutters, rushing to assure. Bullshit. It’s a lie- the thought does have her uncomfortable, in unfamiliar territory, but that doesn’t mean she wants Rafael to think she’s unwilling. Only uncertain. She likes him- it’s scary, really, how much she does. If she needs to break down a few boundaries, force herself out of her comfort zone, well. Phoebe will try. Even if Rafael won’t ask it of her. There’s pre-date stress already winding itself tightly inside the hollow of her rib-cage, but Phoebe makes a conscious effort to relax the stiff line of her shoulders, her mouth. To smile. This will be fine. “Your family is obviously important to you. So. I want to meet them.” And that’s that. Rafael’s openness is not something she wants to match, or even can, maybe, but his willingness to share his life makes her stomach flip in a funny sort of way. A good one. One hand moves to rest against the muscle of his chest, the other slips its fingers between his own with a squeeze.

[phoebepruitts-blog]

jacksondonovan:

Jackson had changed a lot over the years. But Phoebe was probably the only person in his life that hadn’t known who he was before, and more importantly, she was probably the only one who never expected him to be that person. That was… nice… Letting everyone down got exhausting after a while. “We do the best we can with the shitty cards we get dealt. Seems to me that’s what you’re doing now,” he said. He didn’t know what hands Phoebe had been dealt, and he wasn’t planning on asking her to share something she clearly didn’t want to talk about. “Or something,” he added to echo her, a wry smile crossing his lips.

Phoebe bobs her head in a half-nod at Jackson’s words, returns the smile. It sounds less convincing in her own head. Hearing the same from someone else, from someone older- it makes it somehow easier to believe. Jackson, for all his quiet, seems to have a rational head on his shoulders. Sound. Maybe they’re as sound as an ex-felon and teenage stripper can get. At least at this point in their lives. Draining the last of her mocha, Phoebe feels as if she’s gotten a stronger grasp on the subject- marginally. “One more problem, I think. After this, I’m gonna like. Take a long nap. You?” A fucking shame she can’t major in sleeping. 

[malamente1992]

[phoebepruitts-blog]

jacksondonovan:

Jackson made a face at the memory. “Actually, it was. I was such an obnoxious teenager, it was disgusting. I was in Yearbook and everything.” He rolled his eyes. It was hard for him to imagine being that person. The kind of person that was in yearbook. “But I mean, seniors have mostly checked out, anyway. There was a guy in my class that wore different hats every day of the year and then used them to hide his face while he slept in the back of the classroom. Again, you didn’t miss much.”

“Yearbook?” Phoebe echoes with a small, wry smile. “-Very, uh, school spirit. I like the idea of you snapping pics at all the football games.” It’s a hard scenario to picture. But as she knows from personal experience, the person you were at high school and the person you are today can be two vastly different realities. Phoebe snorts quietly, fiddles with her sleeve of saltines. “I checked out long before senior year. I kinda, uh, wish I did high school differently- like, a lot of it was out of my control. Stuff I couldn’t help. But.” Too much. Phoebe takes a long sip from her mug, chides herself for venturing even that far. “Whatever. No time like the present to do things differently. Or something.” 

[phoebepruitts-blog]

jacksondonovan:

Jackson gave Phoebe a nod of thanks for the drink. “Hey, I mean, that comes out to $30 per year of high school, which, if you think about it that way, isn’t that unreasonable.” Looking on the bright side was not Jackson’s specialty, as he was sure neither of them had $120 to spare. “You really didn’t miss much by not going to high school, I promise.”

Phoebe nods, gives something akin to a shrug- wouldn’t she just love to be payed to go to school instead. “I mean, I went for most of it.” Phoebe drums her fingers against the side of her mug, tucks both legs up into the booth. It’s strange, talking about that part of her life. Even if only in vague mention. “-I missed senior year. But that’s like, rallies and ‘senior sunsets’ and shit, right? Your kinda stuff.” 

[forkeepsblog]

“Courage, dear heart” - C.S. Lewis.

[phoebepruitts-blog]

jacksondonovan:

Jackson slid the book closer to check the problem. The processes were coming back to him slowly as he looked over it, which was a good sign. Probably. “More coffee’d be nice, actually. I think my blood is slowly being replaced with this shit,” he said, without looking up. He’d never known how much he appreciated coffee until he only had access to vaguely coffee flavored water for five years. It contained enough caffeine to keep the inmates from strangling each other to death in addiction withdrawals, but it also tasted like ass and the word “lukewarm” was generous. He flipped to the back of the book to find the answer to the problem, just to be on the safe side, then nodded. “Not bad, tiny one,” he told her. “You’ll be at college level in no time.” Part of him sort of wanted to ask why she’d never finished high school, but he wasn’t exactly a nosy person. He figured it she wanted to tell him, she would eventually, and if not, it was none of his business.

Phoebe nods, scooting out from the booth in an instant with wallet in hand. Jackson’s drink is a large, plain black coffee with a fistful of sugars and creams to accompany it if so desired. Her own drink is significantly smaller, smothered in whip cream and a pinch of chocolate shavings. Blended sugar, essentially. She takes small, measured sips, sliding the other cup towards her older counterpart. Her answer is, surprisingly, correct. Fuck yeah. There’s no victory fist-pump, but Phoebe does nod her head in something like excitement, quirk her lips into a small smile. “Lucky me.” Who doesn’t want to be swamped in college-level math? The next problem seems considerably more difficult, but Phoebe steels herself for the task. At least she’s not braving it entirely alone. “Y’know it’s like a hundred and twenty dollars to take the test? High school was free. But. Objectively even less fun.” At least the test could be completed in one fell swoop. Instead of four years.  

[phoebepruitts-blog]

rdahar:

She was smiling. That was a good sign, Raf decided. Over the years, he’d learned that bringing a girl to his house for the first date wasn’t always the best idea. But if mama didn’t like who he was dating, then what was the point in pursuing things further? He wasn’t worried about Phoebe, though. Mama would love her right away. “Of course,” he said, turning around to place her on the counter. He rested a hand on the side of her waist. “It shouldn’t take too long. Maybe, like, an hour. Tops. Then we’ll finally go on a date. Just me and you,” Raf said, placing a free hand on the side of her face.

“-Oh.” Phoebe says, nodding once. The only thought she can manage is holy shit. He’s fucking serious about this- a whole fucking hour with his parents, right before the first date. Is this normal, for Rafael? Is he trying to scare her off? She’s baffled. “Did you, uh, tell your parents anything about me? I don’t want to have them be, uh…” She trails off, frowning at her hands. Disappointed. Surprised. Those were the words Phoebe had been thinking. “-I just don’t know if I’m like, the best option to take home. To parents.” Despite Rafael’s smile, Phoebe feels a burst of mild panic, a strong kick of inadequacy. What kind of impression would someone like her have, anyway?  

[phoebepruitts-blog]

rdahar:

The french toast hadn’t burnt. Good. It would’ve been a little pathetic if they’d ruined it twice in one morning, but he found it incredibly hard to do anything but focus on her. Rafael took an average sized bite from the toast, chewing slowly. He closed both eyes, made a satisfied sound with his mouth closed, and swallowed. “That’s so good. How’d you do that?” He said, tempted to take a second bite. He decided against it, letting her finish the rest if she wanted. Rafael contemplated whether or not to tell her that the pit stop was actually a meet the parents pit stop. From the moment he developed feelings for Phoebe, he realized that she was special. Different. He didn’t want to throw anything her way that she couldn’t handle. Maybe a few day’s notice was good. “Uhhhhh,” Rafael trailed off, fighting to keep a serious face. “I want you to meet my parents,” he finally said, completely unaware of how ridiculous that sounded to someone he’d only been dating for a short amount of time.  

Phoebe bites at the toast’s corner, sets the remainder back down on the counter. “Just practice. And extra sugar.” It was good- even better since they’d made it together. Sort of. ‘Meet my parents.’ Her lips quirk into a small, almost dry sort of smile. That’s a good one- meet the parents. It’s a funny joke, and Phoebe’s about to tell him as much until she gives pause. Watching him, there’s something in his tone, in the expression that Rafael is wearing that makes her think otherwise. Phoebe blanches. He isn’t- he can’t be serious, right? God.“-Wait. Like, for real?” Her voice is neutral, careful, a little higher than normal. They haven’t been together a month- and there’s nothing about Phoebe that seems take-home friendly. Not her age, her occupation, her living situation. Which is why this has to be a joke. Obviously.

[jacksondonovan-blog]

Jackson shrugged. Compared to others, his total amount of loans had been relatively small, thanks to scholarships, although managing said loans while in prison had been an adventure. He felt that pointing out that he had a rather nice looking Bachelor’s was doing absolutely nothing for him in the job market was probably the opposite of what she wanted to hear. He finally settled on “it’ll be worth it.”

[phoebepruitts-blog]

“Yeah.” Phoebe says mildly. “Hope so.” Getting her GED, applying for colleges seems like a step towards normalcy- isn’t that what you should be preoccupied with, at nineteen? Midterms and dining-hall food and parties. Not heroin addiction. Or the slippery unpredictability of one’s mental state. So math or no- this is good. Phoebe traces out the last of her answer in neat, bubbly handwriting and spins the paper for Jackson to check. “I think at least part of my answer is right.” Hopefully all of it. “-Do you want, like, more coffee? Or one of those little scone-things to make up for having to look at math?” 

[fairtradebananas]

a gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.

richard siken, snow and dirty rain (via sunkenghoulplayingtheukulele)

[jacksondonovan-blog]

Jackson nodded. “It’s important to find something you’re interested in.” It sounded too cliche, especially coming from someone who had made it an art to not seem too interested in anything, but it was true. “Loans are acceptable, too. Paying for college on your own in the city is gonna be near impossible,” he pointed out. He refrained from saying ‘you should probably quit the job you already have because the Castillos are awful’ which he considered was his win for the day. As far as he knew, Phoebe was the only person in his life who was not aware of the Jackson-Castillo connection, and he was okay with it staying that way.

[phoebepruitts-blog]

Phoebe doesn’t grimace, but the thought of student loans is enough to create the echo of a tension-headache. “Yeah. It’d be pretty hard.” Practically impossible, really. She makes decent money stripping, far more than she would working retail, or fast-food, or anything else a nineteen year old could get. But still- it’s not enough. Not for tuition. “They got a pretty smart system figured out- go to college to earn more, then spend all your salary paying off student debt. Or, like, no college at all, no debt, but no okay-paying job.” Phoebe isn’t surprised- she was born dirt poor, grew up dirt poor. This is just a familiar reality, this catch-22. “Guess that’s just life.” 

[jacksondonovan-blog]

“Okay, I know you and Raf both have your collective heart set on that double date idea, but don’t change the subject.” He didn’t even look up at sweater guy, or acknowledge the way the word ‘date’ stuck in his throat when he said it. He had better things to worry about, like the trig problems they were having, or climate change, or literally anything else. “If business major’s off the list, what’s on it?” he asked. 

[phoebepruitts-blog]

Though she’s still in the private opinion sweater guy’s stare veers dangerously towards flirtatious, Jackson is right. Phoebe’s lips purse as she knocks her shoes together idly, uncertain in her answer. “I’m, uh, not sure.” She glances down at her notebook, scratches out a few more numbers. Planning a future wasn’t priority number one in the few years she actually had attended high school. Or after, until very recently. “-I like films, critical analysis of stuff.” She taps a fingernail against the handle of her mug. “Gonna worry about getting enough money for college before anything else, though. Get a second job.” 

[jacksondonovan-blog]

Jackson pulled the book closer and scanned it. He remembered knowing how to solve these problems, but the actual step by step processes of how were just out of his reach. “Okay, try 14,” he suggested, before sliding it back to her. “It’s kinda like what you did on the last page, but with that extra step.”

[phoebepruitts-blog]

Phoebe bites at her lower lip, digs her nail into the side of her pencil. Okay. Okay okay okay. She begins to write, copying the equation from page to notebook, glancing back at similar problems with a squinting eye. This is going... hesitantly well. But her attention isn’t kept for long, “-I think that, uh, guy in the green sweater is staring at you.” It’s a neutral statement, just an observation, but Phoebe thinks maybe it’s an interested, open sort of stare coming from the adjacent table. 

[limitlessplaylist]

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Wait, they don’t love you like I love you…

[jacksondonovan-blog]

“We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.” This was about the nicest way Jackson had ever shut down a conversation that was taking a dangerous turn toward himself. All of his photography shit was in boxes, shoved to the back of his closet with tape still on them. He had no intention of breaking that tape to invite in the unwanted ghosts of his past. He reached over and snagged one of Phoebe’s crackers. “If that problem’s giving you trouble, you should move onto the next one. 

[phoebepruitts-blog]

“-Right.” The problem is, they’re all giving her trouble. Phoebe gamely turns her attention back to the next question, eyes the arrangement of numbers and words with growing agitation. Math was never her forte. Especially not after dropping out of high-school, spending the last few years in a drug-induced haze. Phoebe drops her hands into her lap, hunches her shoulders as she scans the page for the easiest looking equation, for something, anything she can at least start on. Finally, she spins the book towards Jackson. “Will you pick one?” She reaches for her pencil in preparation, takes a fortifying sip of coffee. “I know I’m just gonna end up choosing the easiest problem.” New tactic. Maybe working from hardest to easiest will make the task go faster. 

[jacksondonovan-blog]

“Not unless you’re gonna be a business major,” Jackson told her, recalling a few times he’d made the mistake of looking over Luis’ shoulder at his homework when they were in college. He wasn’t unconvinced that college-level calculus wasn’t actually just Pictionary. “But you’re at least gonna need some algebra.” He raised a brow at her suggestion of clown school. “While I see the appeal of being stoned to death by Penn State students, clowns are supposed to be funny. Neither of us are funny.”

[phoebepruitts-blog]

“-Uhh. No way.” Business major is already crossed off the list. Phoebe feels flustered, overwhelmed at the prospect of having to face math for however many undetermined semesters. Ugh. Phoebe too sees the appeal in being stoned to death by Penn State students. But apparently, according to Jackson, it wasn’t a viable career option. She places another half-cracker on the surface of her tongue, chews quietly. “What if you use your photography degree to do family portraits? Y’know, kids in pumpkin costumes and engagement announcements. That’d be like, emotionally fulfilling.” No it wouldn’t. Jackson might as well work for a Sears portrait studio. (See, funny. Or not).