#growing pains

TAG Rewatch - S3, E5, Growing Pains

i was so relieved the day
i realized i’d outgrown
revenge.
even though there may have still been
some self loathing
loitering as echoes in the hallways and
smoking under the streetlamps at night,
there was finally indication of
how
forgiveness may be a strength.
i impressed myself. i felt impressive. 
but i knew even then, that day,
how
feeling impressive
is counter-productive.

storyunrelated:

Allow me to piss in your ear a moment.

A Candidate for Completion (those capitals letters Are Important) is one of those ideas I have on the boil that could, perhaps, turn into something greater were I bothered enough to put the effort in.

I believe The Kids in the WRITEBLRSPHERE might call them ‘WIP’s’ or something like that. And while they could never be ‘good’ even if I did do anything with them they might at least be, well…

Something.

So with that laid out let’s go and talk about

Growing Pains

Of course, everyone always thinks they’re the one exception. The one person who’ll be able to control themselves, the one who won’t need those horrible drugs or the check ups. The one person who’ll be special.

It is an unavoidable human failing that everyone considers themselves possessed of a certain quality or qualities that are lacking in all others. They are special. 

Everyone is special, obviously, but they are the most special, and will succeed where others haven’t on account of this.

But they never are, and no-one ever will.

WHAT

A normal, well-adjusted human being (whatever that might look like) with access to super powers was an uncomfortable enough thought in the first place. Most people wouldn’t trust their neighbours with a knife and fork. 

Neighbours with superhuman tendencies? Who wanted to help? Without really grasping what this might involve? With an increasing trend towards not accepting no as an answer?

It hardly bore thinking about.

It’s about superheroes! Well, kind of. Not really. Superpowers are involved, but that’s about it.

The idea is that, at a certain point in people’s lives - typically the teenage years, though not always - they have the chance to suddenly develop superpowers. These come in three broad categories, with your strong types, your energy-blasting types and your mental powers types. Hurray.

Only not hurray because these come with a caveat and that caveat is that anyone who is found to have these powers invairable - without fail, utterly unavoidably - will succumb to a very particular form of psychosis as a result of having them.

It’s quite unique and while the details vary it usually involves a variation on the theme of the bearer of these powers believing that they know how best to protect the world and those in it and that anyone who disagrees is an enemy. And sooner or later they conclude that everyone disagrees with them.

And the level of control and power these abilities have is consumate to the level of psychosis. Which is to say, the more powerful a person becomes the more unmoored from reality they also become. Which is bad.

So. As a result of this people are quite regularly tested to see if these powers are manifesting and, if they are, that person is then compelled by law to take very potent, very unpleasant suppressant drugs. These drugs utterly dampen the powers and block them out, also blocking out the psychosis to. Hurray.

Only not hurray (again) because these drugs come with a bevy of nasty side effects running the gamut from weight loss, weight gain, uncontrollable sweating, uncontrollable flatulence, insomnia, narcolepsy, vivid and horrific nightmares, hallunications and more besides. Basically, they make your life extremely miserable.

But if you don’t take them and they find out they lock you up.

And if you don’t take them and they don’t find out and you eventually lose your grip on things and lash out at a world you’ve decided doesn’t understand you then they send someone in powered armour to beat the everloving shit out of you, at which point you are locked up for a longer time than you would have otherwise and dosed to the eyeballs on drugs.

So that’s the setup.

WHO

“You’re a very strange boy, Remi. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“It might have come up.”

The main meatpuppets of this whole sorry affair are Remi, a young lad freshly found to have some of these superpowers, and Michelle, a slightly older girl who already got herself checked out and who has been on the suppressants for a little while.

Remi is a quiet, unremarkable, background boy who no-one ever thought about twice. Most people paid attention to his brother, who is well-known as a dashing, pleasant chap. Remi though is just…forgettable. Most don’t even notice that he’s been found to have superpowers. The most that happens to him is that they now look twice rather than not at all.

By contrast Michelle is somewhat bitter. Previously a fairly outgoing, popular girl she’s found herself suddenly and entirely bereft of friends and so left to suffer the particular side-effects of her suppressants on her own.

Not helped at all by her particular powers being (and being known to be) the ability to not only read minds but also put thoughts into those minds. That these abilities are entirely numbed by drugs is immaterial - people don’t like it.

Previously finding Michelle unapproachable on account of being older than himself and also not really being able to relate to her situation Remi now goes to go keep her company, feeling it the right thing to do. Michelle isn’t exactly enthusiastic but is by this point so close to desperately lonely that she’ll take any port in a storm.

They do get better though, as it turns out they have some shared interests.

Also later there’s a villain but they’re a secret, shh.

WHERE

“We figure it’s better people know how to handle themselves and what they can do. People who don’t know their limits generally overestimate them, and that’s never good for anyone, especially with this kind of thing. It’s dangerous.” 

The plot - such as it is - basically involves Remi discovering he has these things, having to take suppressants, making friends with Michelle, Michelle (whose mother knows people who knows people) informing her new friend about a hush-hush place where they are apparently working on some way of avoiding taking the drugs while also avoiding going mad and getting locked away, going there, doing stuff and then…

Yeah.

WHY

“I wonder what all this could be seen as a metaphor for, you know? If someone was looking at our struggles and tribulations from the outside, as it were. If they were watching us in a film,” said Bellamy, holding his hands up with his fingers out at angles to form a rectangle he squinted through. The others looked at him. Bellamy said odd stuff, yes, but this was a step beyond.

“My life is not a metaphor,” Ruth growled.

There’s no real overarching message or theme in the story. I’m not trying to make a point. You might think, what with the drugs and the emphasis on the side effects and the negative attitude towards those with powers that I’m trying to make a point, but I’m not.

Ultimately it’s an excuse to have a grumpy characters (Michelle) make one friend (Remi) and…stuff.

Also power armour!

WELL

“I was an adult. A regular adult. Drugs kept me safe, kept me in the lines. Paid bills, fretted over money, got spat on - you know, the usual. And for what? What? What did I get out of it? Nothing. What does anyone get out of that? Nothing! At least when the wheels come off - and oh, the wheels are coming off, let me tell you - there’ll be something for people to do!” 

The issues with Growing Pains are many. Remi needs adjusting. The plot needs to be a plot. Everything needs tightening up.

Presumably if I GOT IT DONE I could then look at it as a whole and see where the larger problems lie, but that sounds dangerously close to drafting and that’s just INSANE.

So who knows?

Growing Pains cast on the Phil Donahue show in 1988

Finally started a comic!! Its called Growing Pains and you can read it on Tapas <3 Two highschoolers, Taz and Verna, make a bucket list to finish during the summer before college and they learn more about themselves and each other along the way

growing up with acne is really hard

It’s the return of Ryan Brenner, and it will be quite a journey! It’s also the introduction of Gracie, our main OC in this story. I’m super excited to share part one of a one-shot turned series I’ve been writing for months now. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy so far!

Word count: 2525 

Rating:PG

Tag list:  @obscurilicious@the-blind-assassin-12@something-tofightfor@logan-deloss@lexxierave@madamrogers@gollyderek@yannii04@carlaangel86@vetseras@maydayfigment@thisisparadisemylove@malionnes@thesandbeneathmytoes@delos-destinations@tenhargreeves@luminex3@fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes@witchygagirl@fific7@everything-lost-and-unsaid@pheedraws@my-rosegold-soul@commanderlola@leeanncodes@citrusmun@bisexual-space-slut @bendro-pascarnes@torresbarnes 

As always, if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list, just shoot me and ask or DM!

A loud whoop made her jump where she sat, and page 43 of the book she was attempting to read— The Giver by Lois Lowry— was sprayed with water. Laughter, louder than the whoop that startled her in the first place, erupted from the mouths of the four boys that were chest-deep in the lake as water lapped at their skin. 

“Thought you were gonna jump out yer skin and end up a pile’a bones,” her brother, Jonathan, called out to her as he laughed. Jonathan was 3 years her elder, and his mission at thirteen years old was to torture his baby sister Gracie. Jonathan’s friends from school, Steven and Ryan, usually joined in, not with the teasing as much as the laughing. And Ryan’s cousin Eric had tagged along that day as well— an extra gross boy to laugh at Jonathan’s stupid jokes. Gracie had decided she didn’t care for Eric. He was the whooper.

“Shut your mouth, Jonathan. I’m trynna read!” Not that she was really all that able to see with water splashed over half of page 43– she could swear the ink was beginning to run.  

“Maybe you shouldn’t be such a nerd and bring a dumb book to the lake!”

Still grinning, Ryan swam a few strokes closer to the lake coast, though he was still a yard or so from her. If she had to pick between one of her brother’s stupid friends, it would be Ryan, but only because Steven was just like Jonathan, and one Jonathan was enough. 

“Whatcha readin’?” Ryan asked, squinting over at the girl. Gracie squinted back, regarding Ryan, and then held up the paperback.

“The Giver,” she told Ryan. She put the book down over her right knee, cover side up. “Until someone splashed water all over page 43.” She averted her eyes to glare at Eric, who was farther out in the lake joking with Jonathan and Steven. Gracie wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Why do you hang out with them, anyway?”

Instead of answering right away, Ryan just swam closer until he was there on the shore, towering over Gracie and dripping wet. “Why don’t you, li’l bit?” 

Gracie just glowered up at him. She may choose Ryan out first out of the four boys, but it didn’t mean she liked him. “Name is Gracie, Ryan Brenner. And don’t drip on The Giver.”

                                             *     *      *     *

All Gracie had asked to receive for her eleventh birthday was permission to go to the lake without Jonathan as a chaperone. Her mother was reluctant, but after several instances of begging and a conversation  with Gracie’s father, her birthday wish was granted— with the understanding that she’d be home before sundown. The lake wasn’t far from home— about a quarter of a mile— and the rural Virginia town where Gracie lived was safe, and she was responsible for her age. 

There were still a few small gifts to open and cake and ice cream to be had, but she had two free hours until then  Gracie wanted to spend them at her favorite place, alone, soaking up the sun and diving into Anne of Green Gables— the first of two gifts she’d opened. The second was a watch, insurance that she’d be back home in time to sing Happy Birthday. 

Book in hand, she ran almost the whole way to the lake, book in hand. The sun was warm and bright, but there was a lazy breeze rustling the leaves on the clusters of towering trees she passed on the way. It was a perfect day for some quiet reading, the only sounds surrounding her that of the breeze, the quiet rippling of the water, and the turning of pages. 

Slowing down, her chest heaving at the effort to catch her breath, Gracie froze in place. Did she hear music? No, it was impossible— just her imagination. Shaking her head, she made her way to the lake and stumbled upon the source of the music. 

“No.” She made a beeline for Ryan, stopping a yard away from the old wooden swing that hung from a low, looming tree branch. “No way. Get outta here with that noise, Ryan.” 

He had stopped strumming long enough to squint up at Gracie, the sunlight casting an ethereal glow around her form. He could barely see the exasperated and annoyed expression on her face due to the sun’s rays. She had a book crooked in her arm and cradled against her chest— as always. 

“C’mon, Lil Bit. I ain’t gonna bother you.” He looked back down to his old guitar, placing three fingers side by side on three of the six steel strings. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Gracie’s brows rose in slight surprise. He’d remembered. Relaxing her stance, she continued to look down at him for a moment. “Thanks.” Turning and taking a few steps back, she tucked her book under her arm and grabbed the two fraying ropes that held the old, wooden swing from a thick, sturdy tree branch. The ropes were fraying and rough in her hands, the material  weathered like the seat she gingerly perched herself on. That old  swing had been hanging there as long as she could remember, and it creaked under her weight. “Are you coming to eat cake?” 

“It looks beat up, Gracie,” Ryan warned as she sat. The creaking made her feel a bit wary, but the old swing seemed sturdy enough to hold her weight if she kept mostly still. He watched her for a moment after she sat, and she shrugged her shoulders, offering him a satisfied smile. “Don’t fall, Li’l Bit.” 

“Nobody’s fallin’. And I told you— my name is Gracie.” She paused for a moment, unopened book still perched on her lap. Ryan just winked in response and turned back to his guitar. Before he could strum, Gracie spoke up again. “You can’t call me Li’l Bit forever, you know. I’m eleven.” 

Eleven years old, Gracie thought, was much more mature than ten. Ten year olds were just kids. She’d been eleven for half a day now, and felt much more grown up than she felt the day prior. 

She heard Ryan chuckle, and she knitted her brow. “Eleven? I apologize, ma’am. Miss L’il Bit.” 

Gracie’s jaw dropped in surprise, but she couldn’t help the laughing that followed. “You must not want any cake,” she said in mock indignance, narrowing her eyes. “Just play your guitar, Ryan Brenner.” With that, she finally  cracked open her book, flipping past the first few pages and stopping at Chapter 1. If someone else had to be at the lake, Gracie guessed she’d choose Ryan over any of the other boys. 

                                              *     *      *     *

Gracie didn’t know what was up with Ryan. It was mid-July, so steaming hot outside it was almost hard to breathe, and Ryan had been sleeping over at her house for over two weeks straight— as a matter of fact, had been staying over with Jonathan so long that Gracie’s mother was threatening to give him chores. She was laughing, Jonathan was chiding his friend, and Gracie was going stir-crazy. It was miserably hot, but maybe she’d go for a swim. The water would be warm, but a nice reprieve from not only the sun, but also Ryan and her brother. 

She was perched on the countertop, legs folded. Gracie had initially come into the kitchen for an ice cream sandwich, only to find an empty box in the freezer. Jonathan— and her new housemate, it seemed— had gone through the entire box in less than a week, not counting the single ice cream sandwich Gracie had snagged just after coming home from grocery shopping with her mother. 

She didn’t loathe Ryan like she did her brother, but he had cut into her ice cream quota. Her distaste for the guy was slowly rising. 

“What do you think, Gracie?” Her mother’s voice directed at her had caught her attention; all the chattering between her and the two boys, she had drowned out. She had no idea what her mother was asking. What do I think about what? Two fifteen year old boys under one roof? A lot of things I’d get grounded for saying. 

“I think there are too many boys here and not enough ice cream.” Instead of looking at the two boys, she made a point of not looking at them, and hopped off the counter, making a beeline for her room. Quick as lightning, she stripped off her clothes, changed into her swimsuit, and redressed. On her way out, she stuffed a towel and a copy of The Outsiders into an oversized tote. 

Back in the kitchen, Gracie slid her feet into a pair of cheap flip flops that she’d discarded when she’d walked into the door. “I’m going to the lake and I really don’t want company.” Before Jonathan could reply with some stupid remark, Gracie was our the door and in her way. 

It had been roughly two minutes when she heard footsteps hitting the concrete behind her. She refused to look back. Continuing on her way, she quickened her pace. The footsteps were still behind her. 

“Hey, Little Bit, wait up!”

Only one person called her Little Bit. “Go home, Ryan.” He caught up to her, matching her pace. Gracie ignored him. 

“Listen… I have—“

She stopped short and turned to glare at Ryan. Maybe she was acting childish, pouting like she was. She didn’t care. “I said I don’t want company! Go home.”

“Gracie…”

Gracie. The indignant expression she wore faltered for a short beat of time. Ryan never called her by her name. She surveyed him, from his face, down to his feet and back up again. Without another word, she turned away and continued her trek to the lake. She heard Ryan’s steps on the concrete behind her, and then there he was, walking beside her. She kept her eyes focused straight ahead. 

“Got ourselves a scorcher today.” Looking sideways at Ryan, she didn’t answer. He wasn’t following her uninvited to talk about the unrelenting heat.  “Know what would really hit the spot?”

She narrowed her eyes and made a sharp turn, walking on grass instead of concrete. If Ryan was insinuating ice cream and not just a swim in the lake, she would throttle him… or hit him, at least. He was fourteen, and tall, and maybe she was eleven years old–she lifted her chin in indignance– but she knew a hit from her wouldn’t even hurt Ryan, and wasting the energy would be foolish. She sped up her steps, but Ryan’s strides were longer than Gracie’s, and he caught up to her quickly.

“Can’t you take a hint, Ryan? Leave me–”

“A dip in the lake.” 

Gracie paused her authoratative walk long enough to give Ryan a suspicious look. Why had he seemed desperate to catch up with her and not go away like she clearly wanted him to? Surely, not for a swim in the lake on a hot day when all she was craving was ice cream while reading her book– alone. She didn’t know what Ryan’s aim was, but he could swim while she read because what she thought was small talk was as pleasant on nails down a chalkboard. 

She began walking again, her pace slower as a slight breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees. Weaving between two ancient oaks, she’d be at the lake in two minutes using the shortcut she always did to get there. As she and Ryan approached the water, he stripped his shirt off, tossing it to the side as he ran for the lake and jumped in. Gracie wasn’t close enough to get wet, but an overabundance of water splashed as the result of his jump, and she couldn’t help herself. Dropping her tote onto the ground and stepping out of her flip-flops and shorts, she ran for the lake as Ryan surfaced, shaking water out of his dark hair. She let out a little shriek as she jumped into the water, her body going under the gentle current of the lake before she swam to the surface. She had droplets of water running over her face, cutting the heavy heat in the air by a long shot, and she laughed as she rang out her hair. 

“Thought you were readin’ and wanted to be left alone,” Ryan teased in jest. His voice held no connotation of any type of bullying, not at all mean-spirited, but almost gentle. Gracie narrowed her eyes as she treaded water, just a yard away from Ryan. 

“That was the plan,” she responded, fighting a smile and losing the battle. “I’ve read The Outsiders before. It’s one of my favorites.” She slipped under again, swimming past Ryan and popping up to breathe behind him. “I don’t usually pass on readin’ for anything but since you refuse to leave me alone…”

Ryan chucked as she trailed off, and a glint of mischief set his eyes alight. “Hey, Lil Bit, you know what would really hit the spot?”

“Ryan Brenner, if you say–”

“Ice cream,” he interjected, lips spreading into a grin and showcasing his dimples. “Cold and creamy, melting over your fingers and makin’ ‘em sticky… I got money. I mowed the lawn for old Miss Butler, cleaned up the yard for Mr. Elliot next door while he was in New Orleans, stuff like that.”

Gracie went from preparing herself to yell at him for mentioning ice cream, squaring her shoulders and all, only to wilt as Ryan continued to talk. He had money. Had his motive in following her been buying her ice cream? 

She looked down at the water, her shadow being distorted by the rippling surface of the lake. “It was mostly Jonathan hogging the ice cream,” she said, her brow furrowed. Her older brother was becoming more insufferable by the day and he wasn’t the type one could simply ignore. He was loud and obnoxious and unaware of anything that didn’t have to do with himself, and Gracie could never understand for the life of her why Ryan was his friend. Jonathan would never offer to buy her ice cream, unless he did it begrudgingly because her Mama made him. 

“I had at least four of those ice cream sandwiches,” he confessed with a smile. “Over the course of a few days, one by one. I didn’t stuff four at a time down my throat like Jonathan did.” Turning his back to Gracie, he began trudging through the water toward the land. “C’mon, let’s go to TCBY.”

She stayed in the lake, suspiciously eyeing Ryan’s back as he made it to shore. She slowly and somewhat reluctantly began following suit, heading for the shore as Ryan made his way onto the sand. His shorts and hair were dripping with water, and he raked his fingers through his thick, dark hair, slicking it back and out of his eyes. “C’mon,” he urged Gracie again, offering her a smile. Maybe she’d been acting like a petulant brat, but really, Ryan wasn’t a bad guy– and Gracie still really wanted ice cream.

From the “Growing Pains” season 2 episode “Thank You, Willie Nelson.” Gordon’s third appearance as Maggie’s father.

Some things you can’t make up.